Silliest NYT Editorial Ever? Or When Sheltered Professors Go and Write Bad Op-eds

What shall humans do about the "evils" of animal predation-- in other words animals eating other animals? This is the premise of what is quite possibly the worst op-ed I have ever seen in The New York Times... at least the worst op-ed that was not overtly political.

Russell McMahan is a professor of philosophy at Rutgers. This fact may not be evident in the meandering, drunkenly aimless essay that passes, at least in the view of the NYT's editors, as an opinion piece. Yet, two other facts are made abundantly clear very soon within this essay-- (a) that McMahan's degrees are not in biology, and (b) that he has tenure.

From McMahan's laughable display of what is wrong with America's institutes of higher education (with my comments added-- I simply could not resist):

"Viewed from a distance, the natural world often presents a vista of sublime, majestic placidity. [Well, at least from a modern city dweller's perspective. The vast majority of humanity living either before modern Western civilization or outside of Western urban areas have had (and continue to have) a different view of the natural world. But hey they're outside of modern Western cities... what do they matter?] Yet beneath the foliage and hidden from the distant eye, a vast, unceasing slaughter rages. Wherever there is animal life, predators are stalking, chasing, capturing, killing, and devouring their prey. Agonized suffering and violent death are ubiquitous and continuous. This hidden carnage provided one ground for the philosophical pessimism of Schopenhauer [Ah yes, Arthur Schopenhauer-- for those who find Silvia Plath's The Bell Jar too optimistic], who contended that 'one simple test of the claim that the pleasure in the world outweighs the pain…is to compare the feelings of an animal that is devouring another with those of the animal being devoured.'

"The continuous, incalculable suffering of animals is also an important though largely neglected element in the traditional theological 'problem of evil' ─ the problem of reconciling the existence of evil with the existence of a benevolent, omnipotent god. The suffering of animals is particularly challenging because it is not amenable to the familiar palliative explanations of human suffering. Animals are assumed not to have free will and thus to be unable either to choose evil or deserve to suffer it. Neither are they assumed to have immortal souls; hence there can be no expectation that they will be compensated for their suffering in a celestial afterlife. Nor do they appear to be conspicuously elevated or ennobled by the final suffering they endure in a predator’s jaws. Theologians have had enough trouble explaining to their human flocks why a loving god permits them to suffer; but their labors will not be over even if they are finally able to justify the ways of God to man. For God must answer to animals as well [Huh... I was unaware that God's duty was to answer to man. In fact, and I'm no theologian here but, it seems a little more like man must answer to God-- you know God being the ultimate source of universal morality, and judgement, and all that stuff. Silly me. McMahan does amply demonstrate one of the falsehoods perpetrated by current moral philosophy (to charitably allow the subject to retain the name), and that is that God must answer to man's sense of self-righteousness. Setting aside the illogicality (according to the common Western definition of an omniscient and omnipotent God) and hubris of such thoughts, this has caused to horrific misreadings of philosophers such as Kant and Kierkegaard and branches of straw man-like nonsense that this essay exemplifies.] .

"If I had been in a position to design and create a world, I would have tried to arrange for all conscious individuals to be able to survive without tormenting and killing other conscious individuals. [And McMahan cried out "Let there be Vegans!" and behold there were vegans, and McMahan's sense of propriety had been self-fulfilled.] I hope most other people would have done the same. "

I wonder how many hours a day McMahan fantasizes about creating his own world? I mean is this a passing musing or more of an obsession? It doesn't really matter.

"We should start by withdrawing our own participation in the mass orgy of preying and feeding upon the weak. [One might think that we have the found "ah ha!" moment-- that point in which the true purpose of McMahan's odd ramblings reveal themselves. One might think (as I did at this moment) that this was some sort of weird PETA tract. Having become tired blaming celebrities' "odd" behavior and mental problems on an omnivorous diet, rather than drug addictions, PETA (or some such organization) has trotted out McMahan to give some Vegan screed, which he is only partially successful at. *sigh* If only that were true... Had this been the case, we might be able to assign some purpose to this scrawl of words confronting us. But no. His ranting against people eating animals is relatively short, and just arbitrarily thrown in without any real point except to condemn eating meat.]

"Our own form of predation is of course more refined than those of other meat-eaters, who must capture their prey and tear it apart as it struggles to escape. We instead employ professionals to breed our prey in captivity and prepare their bodies for us behind a veil of propriety, so that our sensibilities are spared the recognition that we too are predators, red in tooth if not in claw (though some of us, for reasons I have never understood, do go to the trouble to paint their vestigial claws a sanguinary hue) [Yeah! Way to throw in some weird dig on women's nails. My how clever...]. The reality behind the veil is, however, far worse than that in the natural world. Our factory farms, which supply most of the meat and eggs consumed in developed societies, inflict a lifetime of misery and torment on our prey, in contrast to the relatively brief agonies endured by the victims of predators in the wild. From the moral perspective, there is nothing that can plausibly be said in defense of this practice [LOL]. To be entitled to regard ourselves as civilized, we must, like Isaiah’s morally reformed lion, eat straw like the ox, or at least the moral equivalent of straw [Really? First of all, since when has being considered "civilized" an entitlement? It seems that the term "civilized" has a definition, and that a form of human society either fulfills the definition or does not. Entitlement has little to do with the process. Perhaps McMahan should gift us with his definition of the term civilized. It apparently has something to do with eating habits and specifically a Vegan lifestyle of eating moral straw. Odd. I don't recall that being in any of my anthropology, sociology, or history texts. In fact, I recall a written language being required for civilization, but that idea has been largely discredited or ignored-- the conviction that being considered "civilized" is an entitlement has perhaps grown out of that void.].

"But ought we to go further? Suppose that we could arrange the gradual extinction of carnivorous species [LOL], replacing them with new herbivorous ones [LMAO]. Or suppose that we could intervene genetically, so that currently carnivorous species would gradually evolve into herbivorous ones [LMFAO], thereby fulfilling Isaiah’s prophecy. If we could bring about the end of predation by one or the other of these means at little cost to ourselves, ought we to do it? [Why are we supposed to do all of this again? Oh that's right, because animals eating other animals upsets McMahan misplaced sense of self-righteousness (to steal a line). And by the way "at little cost to ourselves"? WTF? So drastically manipulating the genetic code of every predatory species on the planet turning them into herbivores won't cost that much?! Clearly McMahan's degrees are not in economics either. And by the way, since when has doing the right thing been dependent upon cost? You know I would be a moral person, but it's just too expensive...]

"I concede, of course, that it would be unwise to attempt any such change given the current state of our scientific understanding [Duh, no! Really?! Do you think?!]. Our ignorance of the potential ramifications of our interventions in the natural world remains profound. Efforts to eliminate certain species and create new ones would have many unforeseeable and potentially catastrophic effects."

But that last admission doesn't stop McMahan. Oh, no. Admitting that we can't do anything that McMahan suggests doesn't stop him from continuing to argue that we should.

"Yet our relentless efforts to increase individual wealth and power are already causing massive, precipitate changes in the natural world [That's right. Just go ahead and ascribe all ecological damages in this world to individuals' lust for wealth and power. We all know that those moral Socialist governments never cause any ecological damage... I mean look at the air quality of Beijing, or those super clean Chinese coal plants, or just visit Eastern Europe and look around a bit. And by the way "What is this 'Chernobyl' of which others speak?"]. Many thousands of animal species either have been or are being driven to extinction as a side effect of our activities. Knowing this, we have thus far been largely unwilling even to moderate our rapacity to mitigate these effects. If, however, we were to become more amenable to exercising restraint, it is conceivable that we could do so in a selective manner [Is it really conceivable for us to do this? Did you talk to an economist about it? Or a biologist? Or a psychologist? Or a sociologist? Or anyone?], favoring the survival of some species over others. The question might then arise whether to modify our activities in ways that would favor the survival of herbivorous rather than carnivorous species [Because we all know that eating other animals is just plain evil]."

I'm going to skip ahead now, because McMahan's silly essay is very long, and I don't want to reprint the whole thing here. Suffice it to say that McMahan anticipates a few cliched objections taken from from 1950s science fiction movies (meddling in God's domain, and his suggested actions being "against nature"). He then dismisses the first by using the tired and equally cliched argument that any act that infringes upon a completely deterministic universe would be against God (straw man argument anyone?), and then declares that there isn't a God anyway ("The second response to the accusation of playing God is simple and decisive. It is that there is no deity whose prerogatives we might usurp."). So there. Problem solved. McMahan then counters the second objection with the same strategy saying that there is no personified nature, and the one that exists is changeable anyway-- so, why not eradicate all those immoral carnivorous species. There. Problem solved, again.

McMahan then goes on to clumsily address the value of various species with an intentionally narrow focus. I'm not going to bother with it. Read it if you want to watch a contemporary academic doing what so many contemporary academics do best, narrow down definitions and then warp them to fit their arguments. Ah, that scholastic march toward truth...

I will quote a very small porttion of this argument here, because I will reference it soon. McMahan writes: "Again, the claim that suffering is bad for those who experience it and thus ought in general to be prevented when possible cannot be seriously doubted."

McMahan then concludes: "Here, then, is where matters stand thus far. It would be good to prevent the vast suffering and countless violent deaths caused by predation. There is therefore one reason to think that it would be instrumentally good if predatory animal species were to become extinct and be replaced by new herbivorous species, provided that this could occur without ecological upheaval involving more harm than would be prevented by the end of predation [that's not just a thick rug, that's a flying carpet.]. The claim that existing animal species are sacred or irreplaceable is subverted by the moral irrelevance of the criteria for individuating animal species. I am therefore inclined to embrace the heretical conclusion that we have reason to desire the extinction of all carnivorous species, and I await the usual fate of heretics when this article is opened to comment."

Heretic is far too grand a title to bestow upon McMahan, by way of his essay. Instead this piece makes him simply seem like a babbling shut-in; a man unencumbered by reality, untouched by academic subjects beyond his own area of "expertise," and so withdrawn into his self-created, academic world, that even common sense has fled him in favor of superfluous musings stemming from his own fevered theories (I will not call them principles).

Even dismissing this ridiculousness as a mere philosophical exercise, which McMahan seems somewhat unwilling to do, the incredible shallowness of his thinking is breathtaking.

First and foremost, McMahan accepts the basic premise that "the claim that suffering is bad for those who experience it and thus ought in general to be prevented when possible cannot be seriously doubted. [emphasis mine]"

This blanket statement underlies all of McMahan's inane ramblings. It is the basis from which all his weirdly dreamy talk about doing away with immoral carnivores, etc. begins. Yet, McMahan offers no basis for justifying this premise, expecting the mere mention of the concept (replete with "colorful"-- i.e. manipulative-- diction: "vast, unceasing slaughter," "prepare their bodies for us behind a veil of propriety," "inflict a lifetime of misery and torment on our prey," "continuous, incalculable suffering," "mass orgy of preying and feeding upon the weak," etc.) to be proof enough. This basically asserts that suffering is immoral, thus it stands to reason preventing suffering is moral. McMahan says as much when he writes: "we do have a moral reason to prevent it [animal's suffering], just as we have a general moral reason to prevent suffering among human beings that is independent both of the cause of the suffering and of our relation to the victims [emphasis mine]." Lazy, lazy. Lazy and ignorant.

On a personal scale, suffering (as defined as undergoing or being subjected to pain and distress) is often times beneficial. As a simple example, when you runs track, you undergo discomfort. If you push yourself, you'll feel pain. Is this suffering? Maybe. It depends. Do we have a universal pain scale that can tell exactly when mere discomfort ends and suffering begins? Do all humans feel pain to the same degree as all others? Of course not. However, if you push yourself even harder past the pain and keep going, you'll suffer by most people's definition-- anybody who's had an Achilles tendon snap can testify to this. Yet, running is beneficial to the person prior to injuring oneself. You feel better afterwards, exercise your heart, your lungs, your muscles. You live longer. Suffering, in this case and others, is a conduit to greater health and mental happiness.

Would popping a tendon be a bad act, an immoral act? Is a woman suffering through childbirth another example of immorality?

In fact pain itself, like much in life outside of conscious awareness, is neither intrinsically good nor bad, moral nor immoral. Burning your hand on a hot stove teaches you that heat is damaging to your body, that heat can kill you. Would our lives be more moral if we never learned this? Does that question even make sense?

In the realm of religious thought the idea of suffering as sacrifice or penance is common, and surely McMahan would dismiss such thoughts as superstitious and unenlightened. Butchering a lamb or a goat to eat is to participate in an orgy of death or something, so butchering one as a religious sacrifice is right out (a subject that I notice McMahan avoids. Sure, you can invoke scripture to back up your argument. But once it has served it's purpose, it's just foolish superstition from a "decisively" non-existent deity.).

Yet, what of the belief that self-inflicted suffering can lead to spiritual enlightenment? Various Native American tribes indulged in self-torture (body lifted by hooks, self-starvation, walking in place while staring into the sun, etc.) as a way to get a glimpse into the spirit world. Japanese artists (martial and otherwise) would meditate beneath freezing cold waterfalls or remain half-submerged in chilly water for hours contemplating their subject. Hindis can participate in the Thaipusam holiday by piercing their bodies with hooks, skewers, vel, and then sometimes pulling chariots and heavy objects with their hooks. Others can sometimes pierce their tongue to impede speech and focus their attention on Lord Murugan. Are these practices not immoral by McMahan's scheme? Should we, as observers, not be compelled to stop their suffering? Like many utilitarian moral plans, they work best and with less obvious contradiction when dealing exclusively with Western cultures.

Granted, McMahan might argue that he only said that suffering is "bad" and that the prevention of suffering is moral. This is an inauthentic argument, which I will quickly address below.

Without examining it in any way, McMahan seems to have basically set-up an odd variation of Jeremy Bentham's concept of utilitarianism. Instead of pleasure and happiness being the yardstick by which we measure morality, it is the prevention of suffering that defines morality-- a strangely unpleasurable variation of hedonism.

Whether pain is being inflicted or simply observed McMahan claims we are morally compelled to act (Remember that "[e]ven if we are not morally required to prevent suffering among animals in the wild for which we are not responsible, we do have a moral reason to prevent it, just as we have a general moral reason to prevent suffering among human beings that is independent both of the cause of the suffering and of our relation to the victims. The main constraint on the permissibility of acting on our reason to prevent suffering is that our action should not cause bad effects that would be worse than those we could prevent."). Effectively this equates the concept of empathy with morality, or perhaps confuses the two would be a better way of putting it. After all, the reason that we should care about another's suffering is because we ourselves have suffered-- thus the sensation of pain takes on (im)moral significance as it is the substance forcing empathy with the sufferer. Yet, any other reason for moral action becomes murky in this pleasure/pain world. Once this is done, it really makes little to no difference as to whether pain is merely "bad," or is in itself immoral, or merely the conduit toward immoral inaction, as we are expected to act upon it as though pain were in itself immoral-- as McMahan asserts we should.

In fact, Jeremy Bentham argued (more concisely) much of McMahan's ludicrous idea in the 18th century. In Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation (1789) Bentham wrote:

"Other animals, which, on account of their interests having been neglected by the insensibility of the ancient jurists, stand degraded into the class of things. ... The day has been, I grieve it to say in many places it is not yet past, in which the greater part of the species, under the denomination of slaves, have been treated ... upon the same footing as ... animals are still. The day may come, when the rest of the animal creation may acquire those rights which never could have been withholden from them but by the hand of tyranny. The French have already discovered that the blackness of skin is no reason why a human being should be abandoned without redress to the caprice of a tormentor. It may come one day to be recognized, that the number of legs, the villosity of the skin, or the termination of the os sacrum, are reasons equally insufficient for abandoning a sensitive being to the same fate. What else is it that should trace the insuperable line? Is it the faculty of reason, or perhaps, the faculty for discourse?...the question is not, Can they reason? nor, Can they talk? but, Can they suffer? Why should the law refuse its protection to any sensitive being?... The time will come when humanity will extend its mantle over everything which breathes..."

Hmm. Does that sound at all familiar, like maybe something written by a certain professor from Rutgers? Too bad that McMahan gives no credit, nor even mentions Jeremy Bentham in his lengthy essay... Indeed McMahan's conclusion, in which he offers himself up as a "heretical" martyr seems to suggest such ideas have never been expressed before.

Let's be fair, however. Bentham was advocating laws protecting animals from wanton cruelty. He was not suggesting that human beings eradicate carnivores in the name of morality. That distinction is specifically McMahan's.

Criticizing Bentham's blatantly hedonistic ideas, John Stewart Mill famously said "It is better to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied; better to be Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied. And if the fool, or the pig, are of a different opinion, it is because they only know their own side of the question." This point holds true to McMahan, of course.

So, as so many recent philosophy teachers have asked, would you rather be a satisfied pig or an unsatisfied Socrates? Amazingly, McMahan's argument favors the satisfied pig and the fool-- as long as they're both Vegans.

I have not devoted this amount of my time (only a few hours to be fair) and this blog's space merely to argue with McMahan's repackaged, "new-and-extreme!" Bentham. His argument is so cartoonish, it's like arguing with Woody Woodpecker, or the philosophical equivalent of the narrative in an episode of the 1960s action cartoon "Birdman." Things begin, things end, stuff happens, the plot is mostly absent and really none of our business anyway.

No, what I find bothersome about all this, and the reason I chose to address it, is two-fold. First, and more practically, McMahan has exemplified what so often passes for higher education in this country. Without once crediting Jeremy Bentham, McMahan mashed together Veganism with Bentham's utilitarian creed, threw in some "colorful" language and set it out among the NYT readers while staking himself out as some sort of intellectual martyr. This is your philosophy department at your local university at work. Hurrah.

More important, but less practical is addressing the argument that McMahan espouses-- not the nonsense about genetically altering carnivores and destroying the eco-system as we know it to satisfy some weird combination of Vegan/survivors' guilt. What I'm talking about is the idea of imposing moral order onto the world around us (in this case the animal kingdom). Instead of looking about and deciding what is, McMahan arbitrarily arrives at a moral conclusion (suffering in general is bad) and then seeks to radically alter the world to fit this ridiculously generalized and simplistic viewpoint.

Look at what McMahan attempts to do in his essay (the fact that he fails is not really all that important), and the lengths that he goes to try to impose his sense of moral order. McMahan tries to place God at the feet of man to judge Him. He tries to define all of human morality around a distinctly American/modern lifestyle of Veganism. He attempts to put man in the exclusive role of passing moral judgement on not just all animal species, but on nature itself. He attempts to impose his will, disguised as empathic morality, upon the very nature of the universe. Hubris? Yes. Beyond that, however, is a very real danger in opening up a totalist mentality-- a mentality that declares that all things are capable of being judged as acceptable or unacceptable.

This is a very dangerous attitude based on nothing more then ego camouflaged as empathy, and intellectual gymnastics disguised as morality.

Existentialism Part 1: Faith and the Unproven Theorem that Existence Precedes Essence

Existentialism is often defined under the auspice that existence precedes essence. The implication of such a sweeping statement is that humans are born into this world, nature-less of course, and that we assign the most basic values to the world outside of us. We label, give these items names and a sort of hierarchical essence, assigning essential value to the universe around us. In that sense one could say that name precedes the essence of others-- perhaps one of the reasons that existentialists and postmodernists pay lavish, though often quiet, attention to linguistics. Existentialists argue what this ultimately means is that there is no rational order to existence.

As an example, Jean-Paul Sartre writes in his novel Nausea "They made it [a seat in a streetcar] purposely for people to sit on, they took leather, springs, and cloth, they went to work with the idea of making a seat and when they finished, that was what they had made."

Yet later: "I murmur: it's a seat... but the word stays on my lips: it refuses to go and put itself on the thing. It stays what it is. with its red plush, thousands of little red paws in the air, all still, little dead paws. This enormous belly, turned upward, bleeding, inflated--- bloated with all its dead paws, this belly floating in this car, in this grey sky, is not a seat. It could as well be a dead donkey tossed into the water... and I could be sitting on the donkey's belly, my feet dangling in the clear water."

This small quotation encapsulates a great deal of existentialist and some postmodernist tenets including the importance of language in defining reality, the coddled fixation upon angst, the self-awareness and self-importance it champions and more. But the the power it holds and illustrates is the dislocation of reality when divorced from the rational. Reality abruptly becomes the world through the looking-glass, an odd distortion beyond the realm to identify and, for the existentialist, control.

When I was a sixteen-year-old and read that excerpt for the first time, I remember experiencing a profound sense of vertigo. While sitting on a concrete bench in the park by my high school, I felt the world pitching and rolling, my stomach dropping and yawning empty, as if on a boat in languidly rough seas. It was a curious feeling, one that I have never forgotten. Those words, beyond the dead paws and bloated donkey imagery, terrified me in a way that I thought at the time was most profound. It was as if the awesome nature of reality had finally been revealed to me, and the absurdity (another existentialists' handy go to word) of it all was horrifying.

Of course, that was precisely the reaction Sartre had carefully planned for the reader. Naive, arrogant, rebellious, losing faith in my religion, near the very beginning of my philosophical trek and looking for quick answers, well-convinced of my own unique genius and smugly self-assured in the integrity of my quest for truth, I was the near-perfect audience for Sartre's work. Like many people, I was enthralled by this glimmer of unabashed "truth."

Unfortunately, I had taken the generally insincere "question authority" quip far too earnestly. Instead of accepting Sartre's presumptions and philosophies, allowing it to internalize and imprint themselves indelibly into my thoughts and writing (which probably would have resulted in a much easier and more agreeable college life), I questioned the logic of Sartre, examined the presumptions, scrutinized the chains of thought and logic that his theories entail.

To deny the power of existentialism is foolish. Even reaching beyond the vogue and trendy adulation of career savvy academicians, the ideas themselves hold a great, dark appeal. It's not unlike the attractiveness of slasher films-- being compelled by what is supposed to be repugnant, being attracted by what is supposed to be repellent. These feelings give an illusion of freedom. By defying the expectations of what we are "supposed to do" and confronting or even embracing that which we feel (for whatever reasons) obliged to avoid, we feel the thrill of rebellious autonomy.

note: I an not using postmodernist and existentialist interchangeably. I argue from the perspective, though I offer no evidence here, that existentialism falls under the vast umbrella of postmodernist thought-- while existentialism is a postmodernist philosophy, postmodernism does not necessarily mean existentialist-- therefore an existentialist is necessarily postmodernist. One can argue endlessly about the exact relationship between existentialism and postmodernism, but it is both foolish and inauthentic to deny the closeness of the debated relationship.

Yet, does existentialism actually offer any genuine, revealing and great truths in itself? The answer is no.

Existentialism has become synonymous with what it purports to hate-- religion. It has also become a shill for Marxist oppression, rather ironic considering the postmodernist preoccupation with oppression, but that is for a different post. It is religious in the sense that it takes its tenets based upon faith rather than logic or proof.

Take for instance the existentialists' defining assertion that man is without essence, a wholly faith-based assertion. It it important to understand that the essence that the existentialist addresses is not necessarily based in mainstream religious faith, nor even in religion at all. Essence can be fairly accurately translated as nature. A philosophy espousing or decrying humanity's return to nature (in whatever way) must embrace first a belief in the existence of a nature (which the existentialist denies) and second the belief that nature is either good (e.g. Charles Dickens' work and humanist philosophies) or evil (e.g. Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness"). However such a philosophy is not necessarily based in a religion. The ethical concepts of good and evil, or watered down right and wrong, that allow for a moral definition of human nature need not be based in religious belief or doctrine. They need only some sort of value system to provide a structure to allow ethical judgement.

So with this in mind, let us examine Sartre's argument that existence precedes essence. Famously, Sartre used the example of the paper-knife to illustrate his point. Paraphrasing Sartre, the paper-knife is an instrument designed with a function in mind. Its shape, form, appearance, and judgement of functionality (whether it is a good paper-knife or not) is based upon the the purpose that the paper-knife was to perform-- its essence. In that way, the paper-knife's essence preceded its existence. Sartre then says man is not like this and then simply allows this assertion to lie. He does not offer an analogy as to what man is like.

Probably one of the reasons that Sartre does this is because it is would be impossible to find an example of something that has no essence as he himself defines it. Any man-made object would be excluded by definition. A natural object such as an oak tree exists in the form that we perceive because of evolved responses to its environment and one could argue that its essence is either likewise a result of this evolution, or that its essence is shown in this form as survival. A non-living entity, such as a rock, exists because of various dynamic factors that shapes its form, such as weathering, pressure, heat, or any myriad of other natural forces. In this way, a rock's form is determined by outside pressures (although they may be utterly indifferent and unconscious) and does not present a good sense of analogy to the concept of an essence-less human being.

note: This argument has nothing to do with the levels of consciousness spelled out in Sartre's Being and Nothingness. It is instead an attempt to show the impossibility of an essence-less existence.

By saying that an item is not something, doesn't indicate what the item is. Knowing that a table is not a pound of air does not tell us what a table is-- it only excludes from what the table can be. Likewise proving the truth of an abstract concept cannot be done through negation, unless you negate everything-- not merely the concept's antithesis.

What we are left with is an empty analogy. The paper-knife metaphor tells us nothing about essence-less existence, nor does it disprove the existence of essence (which was not its original intention but becomes a requirement). All it does is narrow the definition of human essence to the criteria Sartre defines and then denies that anything with such criteria exists. Sartre then proceeds as if he has in fact denied the full range of meanings bound to the concept of human essence. This is a common trick of a rhetorician, often employed [though by no means exclusively] by Obama.

What Sartre is actually trying to do is to deny the basis of any structure of a morality being tied into nature, e.g. Aristotle's conviction that man's purpose is to function as he is naturally intended. For Sartre's "nausea" to have any significant meaning beyond the simple dislocation of man's metaphysical place in the world (old hat by the time of Sartre), he must present the entire world as "nauseous," i.e. the world outside the conscious being must be dislocated. The only way this universal dislocation can truly be realized is by means of an empty arbitrary universe. And this can only be accomplished according to tenets of religious faith.

There is no proof of an empty, arbitrary universe, nor can there be (for if truth were divulged through a revelation of some sort this would nullify the emptiness), only supposition rendered and interpreted by the self. Simple faith then becomes requisite to the proposition-- in this case faith that the self's nausea and fear (regardless of its genuineness) is correct. In this sense, existentialism becomes a supremely humanist religion.

After constructing for so long the helplessness, powerlessness, and foolishness of man, it seems rather abrupt for existentialism to suddenly invest in man the sole means to truth. But this is what existentialism is. What might be more shocking, at least to me, is the fact that it purports to accomplish this without a scrap of either evidence or cohesive logic-- that comes later as existentialism builds its great cathedrals of absurdity and nausea. For now it is simple faith, invested in man, that claims that truth can be arrived at and definitively interpreted. This faith is a central tenet, and the foundation of existential thought.

UPDATE: Check out Jordan's post "Everything Means Nothing: My Existentialist Journey" over at Generation Patriot.

Fascism: the Badly Understood Insult

I was perusing through William A. Jacobson's Legal Insurrection blog when I came across this post: "When Fascism Comes To America, It Will Look Like Tea Party Crashers." It's a good post about totalitarian governments and political movements violently stifling free speech. However, what struck me were the comments to his post and the casual and ignorant use of the word fascism. I suggest you read through the comments section to get a full idea of what I mean. I'm there, but my lengthy (lengthy? me?!) comment will be pretty much repeated in this post.

Fascism is a word that gets thrown around a great deal, generally being viewed as an amorphous extreme right-wing ideological stance-- sort of an opposite to the communist stance. It becomes a catch-all for anything viewed as too authoritarian that is not clearly Marxist or Socialist.

Generally ill-defined, it's carelessly employed common usage aggravates the situation. While people can argue almost endlessly about whether certain regimes or political views are fascist or not, the conclusion (if ever reached) is invariably based on group-think-- various like-minded individuals ignorantly nodding their heads in agreement-- rather than any logic or coherent thinking.

The main source of this difficulty seems to be that no one really knows an exact political definition of fascism. This is unfortunate since the word itself is imbued with such emotional power and elicits charged feelings not dissimilar to the label of racist. Mussolini, probably agreed upon as the founder of fascism, was neither a political theorist, nor philosopher, nor a particularly brilliant individual.

He was a politician, and unlike Marx or the Enlightenment thinkers, was concerned with the immediate and tangible results from his publications. Marx was supremely informed by Hegel, and the Enlightenment Thinkers influenced by Descartes' concept of a clockwork universe and a plethora of scientists and thinkers convinced of the existence of natural laws. Their work is crouched in historic academic traditions, allowing for easier analysis. Mussolini had no philosophical basis for his Fascist Manifesto. While some describe the work and inspiration of the Fascist movement as reactionary, it gives Mussolini's ideas far more credit than they deserve.

"The Fascist Manifesto," published in 1919, was in reality little more than a list of demands, a pale cry of political dissent not unlike such as those issued by pathetic, modern day student protesters (see their own real-life manifesto beginning with amnesty for their takeover of the food court). I've found it reasonably difficult to find the "Fascist Manifesto" in its entirety, it's usually summed up like this (from economicexpert.com), however Vox Day at World Net Daily claims to have translated his version from the original Italian. Since it seems reasonably congruent with the summations, I'll present Day's version here:

"Italians! Here is the program of a genuinely Italian movement. It is revolutionary because it is anti-dogmatic, strongly innovative and against prejudice.

"For the political problem: We demand:
a) Universal suffrage polled on a regional basis, with proportional representation and voting and electoral office eligibility for women.
b) A minimum age for the voting electorate of 18 years; that for the office holders at 25 years.
c) The abolition of the Senate.
d) The convocation of a National Assembly for a three-years duration, for which its primary responsibility will be to form a constitution of the State.
e) The formation of a National Council of experts for labor, for industry, for transportation, for the public health, for communications, etc. Selections to be made from the collective professionals or of tradesmen with legislative powers, and elected directly to a General Commission with ministerial powers.

"For the social problems: We demand:
a) The quick enactment of a law of the State that sanctions an eight-hour workday for all workers.
b) A minimum wage.
c) The participation of workers' representatives in the functions of industry commissions.
d) To show the same confidence in the labor unions (that prove to be technically and morally worthy) as is given to industry executives or public servants.
e) The rapid and complete systemization of the railways and of all the transport industries.
f) A necessary modification of the insurance laws to invalidate the minimum retirement age; we propose to lower it from 65 to 55 years of age.

"For the military problem: We demand:
a) The institution of a national militia with a short period of service for training and exclusively defensive responsibilities.
b) The nationalization of all the arms and explosives factories.
c) A national policy intended to peacefully further the Italian national culture in the world.

"For the financial problem: We demand:
a) A strong progressive tax on capital that will truly expropriate a portion of all wealth.
b) The seizure of all the possessions of the religious congregations and the abolition of all the bishoprics, which constitute an enormous liability on the Nation and on the privileges of the poor.
c) The revision of all military contracts and the seizure of 85 percent of the profits therein."

Noticeably lacking in the text is any form of political structure or philosophical base for these demands. Instead there's dreamy quick-fixes for complicated problems-- again like American student protest's demands-- based in what is believed to be popular. In other words, it's a shallow work of public relations, and not meant for either academia or political theorists.

What is evident is the nationalization of certain industries, the seizing of churches' properties and a "strong progressive tax" to "expropriate" wealth (hardly consistent with American Right ideologies). That suggests to me a reasonably Left-thinking model where a centralized state assumes a great deal of economic and social control.

Of course, what also missing is many of the modern characteristics we associate with fascism, its trademarks so to speak. This is because Fascism did not simply stand still following the manifesto's broad strokes (how could it?).

In 1932 "The Doctrine of Fascism" was published. Written by Giovanni Gentile though credited to Benito Mussolini, the relatively short but still rambling essay lays out in much greater detail the precepts and philosophical basis of Fascism. Unfortunately to do any sort of detailed analysis of this document here, while a tempting endeavor, would take up a great deal of space in an already long posting, so I will leave that for a future posting.

Suffice it to say that Gentile was greatly influenced by Hegel (like Marx) and thus the "The Doctrine of Fascism" exhibits a number of certain Hegelian tenets. Among such tenets is the devaluation of the individual and the uplifting of the state. Hegel saw the nation-state as being the true individual in his great sweeping view of history (while Marx saw social class as being the individual).

Gentile writes "Fascism sees in the world not only those superficial, material aspects in which man appears as an individual, standing by himself, self-centered, subject to natural law, which instinctively urges him toward a life of selfish momentary pleasure; it sees not only the individual but the nation and the country; individuals and generations bound together by a moral law, with common traditions and a mission which suppressing the instinct for life closed in a brief circle of pleasure, builds up a higher life, founded on duty, a life free from the limitations of time and space, in which the individual, by self-sacrifice, the renunciation of self-interest, by death itself, can achieve that purely spiritual existence in which his value as a man consists." The innately immoral individual (the common man) is thus supplanted in both morality and importance by the nation and the country.

Unlike the atheist Marx, Gentile is like Hegel in expressing a devotion to a form of theistic spirituality, a religion. Yet, while these spiritual beliefs set standards for ethical behavior they should not be confused with mainstream religious beliefs.

Gentile states, "The Fascist conception of life is a religious one, in which man is viewed in his immanent relation to a higher law, endowed with an objective will transcending the individual and raising him to conscious membership of a spiritual society. Those who perceive nothing beyond opportunistic considerations in the religious policy of the Fascist regime fail to realize that Fascism is not only a system of government but also and above all a system of thought.

"In the Fascist conception of history, man is man only by virtue of the spiritual process to which he contributes as a member of the family, the social group, the nation, and in function of history to which all nations bring their contribution. Hence the great value of tradition in records, in language, in customs, in the rules of social life. Outside history man is a nonentity."

Again we see the reduction of the individual per Hegelian thought. While open to "an objective will transcending the individual [a spiritual morality]" the individual itself only gains spiritual virtue by what "he contributes as a member of the family, the social group, the nation." Also we see history becoming a formative, functioning and in many ways moral process. Again this is taken from Hegel who conceived of history as being a manifestation of God's will-- not unlike the Divine Chain of Being which I have mentioned in previous posts. History was a process by which God's plan was enacted, thus morality (w/ God as its basis) could be discovered by seeing the sweep of history and understanding (hubris alert) God's intent. In this manner, states could be moral in how they align themselves according to God's will and individual morality would be, to some degree, determined by how great a part one plays or how actively one participates in this great process.

Once again, I fail to see how this necessarily equates to the American Right's espousal of individual liberty and organized, mainstream religion.

The modern definition of fascism seems to be based more upon the results or assigned results of Fascist leadership. While most people are completely oblivious to the basic tenets of Fascism, and are likewise unaware of the deep philosophical connection between Hegel, Marx and Gentile (again perhaps examined in more detail in a later post), there still exists a certain popular view of fascism. This view must therefore be based on actions and perceptions of the Fascist governments themselves.

Yet, we are still left with a distinct lack of a demonstrable theoretic framework, even though the word is so commonly used. While Umberto Eco is supposed to have analyzed and presented Fascism (among other places suggested within the comments of Jacobson's post), in reality Eco's work offers little. If this fourteen bullet point essay on "Ur-Fascism" by Eco is indeed the work that many people refer to, it is all but useless in a serious analysis of fascism.

Eco's own introduction disqualifies itself. Eco writes "In spite of some fuzziness regarding the difference between various historical forms of fascism, I think it is possible to outline a list of features that are typical of what I would like to call Ur-Fascism, or Eternal Fascism. These features cannot be organized into a system; many of them contradict each other, and are also typical of other kinds of despotism or fanaticism. But it is enough that one of them be present to allow fascism to coagulate around it."

So really this "Ur-Fascism" is merely a laundry list of warning signs about repressive governments. It's really not even that, however as point #5 is "Besides, disagreement is a sign of diversity." That's a bullet point?

I think Fascism is a misused term, coming from an ill-defined and largely dead-ended Hegelian political theory. Since the term refuses to go away, perhaps it is best to define vaguely what is meant by it now. To that I offer this list I compiled from various talks with political science professors (I am not claiming to have defined or made up any of these).

Fascism supposedly is a political system that has most of these characteristics:
1) Nationalism tinted with a sense of historic mandate
2) Aggressive militarism or militancy
3) Use of violence or threats of violence against opposition and to impose their views on others
4) Cult of personality centered around charismatic leadership
5) Centralized, top-down organizational structure
6) Dehumanization and scapegoating of outsiders, presenting them as enemies to society
7) Self-images as a superior form of social organization to capitalism, democracy, and socialism, presented as a heroic national endeavor
8) Promotion of strict moral values and social control, prioritizing security over civil liberties
9) Patriarchal attitudes toward women while advocating equal involvement from both sexes
10) Romantization of a mythic heritage

Now, as I said in the comment section of Legal Insurrection, I'm not saying this is what fascism is, I'm saying that this is what political theorists claim fascism appears to be. But again, there isn't a clear consensus. You will also notice these characteristics are based on the results of fascism and not on Gentile's Hegelian foundations.

Also notable is how fascism does not stand as a polar opposite to socialism nor Marxism. All are systems which hold that the state is morally superior to the individual and thus empowered to dictate social norms, economic directions, and political ideologies. They are not antithetical, and the far right-end of the political spectrum is not fascism.

Marx was nice enough to define communism and watered down socialism for us. Unfortunately, fascism isn't nearly so clear. I hope this at least presents a beginning to understanding this misused totalitarian label.

Impeach the Pope! Because I Said So in a Rage!

I thought long and hard before deciding to post a link to this article in The Washington Post. The article by Robert S. McElvaine regurgitates standardized bile at Pope Benedict XVI. But it also represents more-- a viewpoint prevalent in the left and even in mainstream American society, and that is why I chose to address his essay. The reason I was hesitant about this link or even to write a post about McElvaine's article has nothing to do with his criticism of the Pope. I myself have profound difficulties with much of the Catholic Church's doctrine. Nor did it have anything to do with the claim that the Catholic Church is "a hierarchical institution set up, not by Jesus but by men who hijacked his name and in many cases perverted his teachings." Everyone is entitled to their opinions, and one man's ranting should in no way sway people who truly believe in their religion's philosophies.

No. The reason I was so reluctant to give this article the dignity of acknowledgment was because of this little gem by McElvaine: "As I detail in my latest book, 'Grand Theft Jesus: The Hijacking of Religion in America' (Crown)..." Cute. His whole essay is little more than a glorified advertisement for his most recent book... a tome of outraged platitudes. And I wasn't sure that I wanted to give this book any more publicity (no matter how meager or negative).

I suppose McElvaine's mercenary motives should be somewhat obvious given the relative brevity of both the article and thought contained within it. In its meandering anger, McElvaine never really seems to get to the heart of what his argument actually is. Despite the issues of birth control, misogyny, AIDS, insulting Muslims, excommunication, holocaust deniers, moral hijackings, all being raised in a vapid but outraged manner, he makes no real connection to his "Enough! No-- Too much!" opening and his ending demand that we should all get together and impeach the Pope.

Oh sure, I understand the laundry list of McElvaine's complaints and understand that the progression of his argument is: (1) I don't like the Pope because I disagree with him (2) the Catholic Church is against birth control (3) I continue to not like the Pope and disagree with him, so we should get rid of him (4) the Church's stance against birth control is because of misogyny (5) I still continue to disagree with the Pope and still think we should get rid of him. Intersperse this with some random references to Bernie Madoff, AIG, holocaust denying, ordination of women, AIDS in Africa, insulting Muslims, moral hijacking, a pantomimed call for defiant "heresy," and his shameless book plug (as I said the real gist of this sloppy piece) and you have his entire article. That's some brilliant work there professor... bet you have tenure there, don't ya?

What's noticeably missing is any sort of reasoning or actual cohesive argument. Why is the denial of birth control theologically wrong? Why should women be allowed to be priests? Why should Catholics not confront Muslims? There could be reasonable answers to these questions (and there are, though McElvaine seems to believe they are of no consequence), but they are wholly absent in McElvaine's rant. He offers no reasoning, no evidence, no viewpoint-- preferring to present only feigned outrage, issues prominent in academically liberal circles, and hot topic references.

In fact, among all his allegations the only evidence that McElvaine bothers to state is reserved only for his misogyny charge. This "evidence," merely a citation, is both deceiving and only tangentially related to his topic. It offers no philosophical, theological, nor moral base for any of its charge.

McElvaine writes: "Why does the Church persist in such a manifestly immoral doctrine [condoms as birth control]? One suspects that it must be the usual twisted thinking about sex and women. The Church's opposition to birth control is largely an outgrowth of its all-male composition and those males' attempts to degrade women's physical powers by asserting that women and the intercourse into which they supposedly tempt men are necessary evils ('It is well for a man not to touch a woman,' Paul instructed the Christians of Corinth), the only purpose of which is procreation.

"Misogyny may not be 'the Church's one foundation,' but it is a major part of the base on which it was constructed."

In this passage, the only evidence McElvaine uses, is a short excerpt from the first letter of Paul to the Corinthians (1 Corinthians. chapter 7). There are various translations but the one I use here is from The New Oxford Annotated Bible. The actual passage that this single phrase is from reads: "Now concerning the matters about which you wrote. It is well for a man not to touch a woman. But because of the temptation of immorality, each man should have his own wife and each woman her own husband. The husband should give to his wife her conjugal rights, and likewise the wife to her husband. For the wife does not rule over her own body, but the husband does; likewise the husband does not rule over his own body, but the wife does." Huh... when you read the whole passage doesn't sound quite so misogynistic, does it?

Paul's reasons for favoring celibacy are given, among other places, just a few paragraphs later in the same chapter. "I want you to be free from anxieties. The unmarried man is anxious about the affairs of the Lord, how to please the Lord; but the married man is anxious about worldly affairs, how to please his wife and his interests are divided. And the unmarried woman or girl is anxious about the affairs of the Lord, how to be holy in body and spirit; but the married woman is anxious about worldly affairs, how to please her husband. I say this for your own benefit, not to lay any restraint upon you, but to promote good order and to secure your undivided attention to the Lord."

One can disagree with what's being said in the letter's passage, but it's a bit of a stretch to call it misogynistic. It also does not suggest anywhere that sex is only for procreation, as McElvaine claims. Furthermore, it is intentionally deceiving and manipulative for McElvaine to use this single sentence, given with absolutely no context, as evidence for his statement that "Misogyny may not be 'the Church's one foundation,' but it is a major part of the base on which it was constructed." If misogyny is indeed a "major part" of Catholic doctrine, McElvaine will have to provide more evidence than a single sentence from the bible. But then this is asking far too much from someone who couldn't finish reading the entire paragraph (let alone the chapter) of the sentence he was quoting.

Let me be clear here. I'm not promoting any sort of religion in this post, nor in this blog. I do not and will not shy away from religious topics, but the purpose of this blog is not for me to promote my formal religious beliefs (should I have any-- I will say no more than to state that I am a theist). And I'm not quoting from the bible for any reason other than to give fair hearing and context to McElvaine's duplicitous "evidence."

But the sheer arrogance of McElvaine, and what he represents in this article, is astonishing. I mean, McElvaine seems to believe that his simple disapproval of the Pope on three issues is sufficient cause to call for Benedict XVI's impeachment (a process which he acknowledges is wholly absent in Catholic doctrine and institution) or his forcible removal from office. In other words, because the American left is for birth control, abortion, and "dialogue" with Muslim fundamentalists, the Pope should be removed.

McElvaine's column-- actually an advertisement for his book thinly veiled as a rant-- is nonsensical. He offers nothing except worn out bile that others of like mind can nod their heads to. And, as paradoxical as this sounds, that's why I bothered to address his essay.

McElvaine's essay and arrogance are both symptomatic of the currently popular idea that people ascribing to a religion get to pick and choose tenets of their faith. Religious doctrine is a buffet... I'll take the loving and forgiving God concept, heaven everlasting... good... but skip over the sour birth control restrictions, the anti-abortion stance, and the I have to go to church every Sunday stuff. Faith and religious conviction has been reduced to believing in comforting concepts... things people find easy to digest, that they already want to believe in. Religion must now coincide with societal values.

This view is actually from where McElvaine's advertisement springs from. The AIDS and condom "controversy" that so "outraged" McElvaine is nothing more than a pretext to claim religion should follow certain public opinion, that religious figures should be directly accountable to the voice of the left (certainly not the right). I admit that I have not been following the Pope's tour nor his statements. However from what I've read, it appears that what Benedict XVI actually said was "AIDS cannot be overcome by the distribution of condoms," an opinion factually based by the reality that condoms have been distributed in Africa for 20+ years and AIDS remains a problem. But facts, like bible citations, are meaningless to McElvaine. He demonstrates a belief that both are merely grist for his millstone, and as adaptable as the faith he champions.

McElvaine's perspective, a view that a surprisingly vast number of others share, preaches that if a religious doctrine is inconvenient to our opinions, we must adapt the religion-- thus the Pope needs to go. While this view may appeal to both our vanity and sense of democracy, religion should not appeal to either. Religion does not exist to stoke the high opinions of ourselves (just the opposite really) and is not a democratic institution. Religions purport to offer truth-- something that is not dependant on the majority.

But that's what socialism does as well, purport to offer truth, and for that reason it must confront religion and discredit it when differences arise. Just as it is popular for individual opinions to come before doctrine, so must politics come before faith, party line before religious doctrine. As party line shifts due to various pressures of political reality, so are religious tenets expected to change to accommodate governmental policy. Thus churches and faiths becomes dependant upon the state for guidance and become nothing more than mouthpieces for political leaders. While Karl Marx famously said that religion was the opiate of the masses, it was only because it interfered with the opiates he offered-- among them cathartic mass executions. Since his time the left has instead found churches to be potential buttresses for political policy and McElvaine demands that they behave as such.

I wrote in a previous post, The Trap of Government as a Moral Compass, of the importance of separation of church and state. In this post I asserted that religion is protected from governmental influence by the "free exercise clause" of the First Amendment and that such protection is fundamental for a true representative democracy. I will not repeat the argument here (read it if you would like), but McElvaine's and the left's wish to control religious doctrine bypasses this protection and is antithetical to the Constitution and the spirit of representative democracy.

To be a member of a religion is to necessarily subjugate the self to the morality and doctrine of that religion. This is the essence of faith-- to believe beyond what is obvious to the self, beyond what is comfortable. This is what makes faith difficult. Some religions (such as McElvaine's Roman Catholicism) offer some outs by possessing mechanisms to allow adaption from within their ranks. Yet, these mechanisms of change exist within the structures of the religion itself and do not function in the manner of a democracy. McElvaine recognizes but resents this, and I must question whether his moral resentment is not politically based. He offers no evidence to the contrary.

I once wrote that to truly be a "government of the people, by the people, for the people," the government cannot be morally, nor considered morally, superior to the people. A religion, however, is not a government, and its teachings must be viewed as morally superior by its truly faithful.

Morality is Not the Lack of Evil

I've mentioned in an earlier post about the danger and ultimate inability of government to dictate moral direction. I thought that maybe I would expand on the concept of morals since I might

My wife and I were watching The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian recently. In the movie there is the cliched scene where the good guys hold the main bad guy at their mercy, literally kneeling helpless, and then decide not to kill him. The movie presents this as some great moral test for young Prince Caspian (the villain had murdered his father and had tried to assassinate the prince). The fact that Caspian thinks hard on it, but does not ultimately kill this man is celebrated as some great moral victory.

Thinking on this scene though I began to wonder why this is seen as a moral victory. I mean Caspian didn't murder the man who murdered his father. Why not?

The character was not developed enough in the film to come to any conclusion (and I have to admit that I've never read the book). He did not seem to possess a great sense of ethics that could easily be defined or evidenced (he was that type of person who is the good guy because we're told repeatedly that he's a good guy). It seemed most likely to me, though, that Caspian did not kill because he would have felt bad or guilty about the action. In other words, because he was weak.

Simply not having the fortitude to kill is not a moral stance. It says nothing about one's ethics. While it is true that morality is about making a choice, the basis on which we make a moral judgement about an action must be on what is intended by the action. Intention is what provides the basis for judgement, since intent is the only aspect of the choice that a person has full control over.

In the case of Caspian, his intent is questionable. He seems afraid of what he may become, seems afraid of having to live with the guilt from the killing. --By the way, there's a fair amount of killing in the film and not all in obvious self-defense. Killing, in itself, is not presented as a necessarily immoral act.-- Weakness of this sort is not morality, nor is it a proper substitute. Compare this scene to the moment in The Dark Knight when Batman refuses to run over the Joker following the semi-truck flip. In Batman (at least the two most recent, Christopher Nolan films), we have a character with a highly developed and demonstrated moral code. Among the rules of his moral code is the fact that he does not kill. Thus, the temptation to run over the Joker (and his choice not to) is not a moral choice, but rather a refusal to be corrupted-- to make a choice he knows is wrong according to his moral code. In this case his morality is demonstrated and not chosen. Yet Caspian's refusal to kill is presented as a correct moral choice. Kill or not. Good or evil. So at the end of the day in Narnia, we're left with the film celebrating the fact that Caspian, this moral paragon, did not act in an evil manner and that seems to be enough to create morality.

This has always been a peeve of mine when this appears in the various forms of narrative. Goodness is not simply the lack of evil, and morality is not simply the lack of immoral behavior. Someone is good because of demonstrably good acts. Morality is an action taken, not an inaction of evil intent.