John G. Messerly's Blog, page 146

Americans Don’t Believe in Science

Yesterday’s Salon ran this depressing piece “Sorry Neil deGrasse Tyson! Over Half of Americans don’t believe the Big Bang theory.” (I have blogged on this topic before in, “Does It Matter If We Know the Truth.”)

Briefly the Salon article discusses the results of a recent poll on American’s beliefs in various scientific truths. (I use the word truth instead of theory to contrast the scientific meaning of the word theory–the most certain truths we have–with the ordinary meaning of the word–a hunch or guess. The major scientific theories–evolutionary, quantum, atomic, gravitational, relativity–are true beyond any reasonable doubt.) Such polls reveal a fundamental truth–most people don’t want to know, they want to believe. Thus they lie to themselves and others about the best-tested ideas, the most likely truths we have.

Of course such surveys aren’t new. I read this column from the New York Times more than ten years ago. It informed me that American are three times more likely to believe in the virgin birth of Jesus as in evolutionary theory. This is difficult to fathom. I understand that some want to believe in the former and not the latter–well not really–but to actually believe something contradicted by all available evidence rather than something supported by mountains of evidence from multiple sciences is simply … breathtaking. If these science doubters could just be transported back in time to the middle ages–when people prayed for cures and then died miserably–they might change their minds. Life is difficult without a germ “theory” of disease.

That humans have such limited intellectual capacities imbues hopeless about the future. To survive and flourish humans must solve exceedingly difficult problems. Such problems are hard enough to solve when we accept the facts–and impossible to solve when we reject them. Perhaps we will slowly get smarter, or artificial intelligence and intelligence augmentation will save us. This is what I’ve always hoped as a transhumanist. Yet, given that most Americans are scientifically illiterate, it is hard not to despair.

But just when despair engulfs us … there is always the cosmos to uplift us. This video is brought to you by science and technology … the true bringers of miracles.

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Simon Critchley on Hope

In today’s New York Times the philosopher Simon Critchley argues for abandoning hope in his article “Abandon (Nearly) All Hope.” In it he defends a theme similar to the one he argued for in his book Very Little … Almost Nothing. (I reviewed it on this blog.) Critchley seems to regard hope as another redemptive narrative, or perhaps as an element in all redemptive narratives. Instead of succumbing to the temptation of hope, he suggests we be realistic and brave–a view reminiscent of that held by Camus, Russell and Kazantzakis.

Critchley begins by asking: “Is it [hope] not rather a form of moral cowardice that allows us to escape from reality and prolong human suffering?” If hope is escapism or wishful thinking, if it is blind to reality or contrary to all evidence, then it is a form of moral cowardice. To elucidate these ideas Critchley recalls Thucydides’ story of the Greeks ultimatum to the Melians–surrender or die. Rather than submit, the Melians hope for reprieve from allies or the gods, despite the evidence that such hopes are misplaced. The reprieve never comes and all the Melians are either killed or enslaved. In the face of the facts Critchley counsels, not hope, but courageous realism. False hopes will seal our doom as they did the Milians. 

From such considerations Critchley concludes:”You can have all kinds of reasonable hopes … But unless those hopes are realistic we will end up in a blindly hopeful (and therefore hopeless) idealism … Often, by clinging to hope, we make the suffering worse.”

Reflections

Hope is one of the most important ideas in philosophy and I’m still trying to understand the extent to which it is justified. (I blogged about it recently here and here.) I agree with Critchley that unrealistic hopes are destructive and the recognition of hopelessness, when the situation calls for it, is the best we can do. Consider the stories we read in the news of individuals who falsely hope their loved ones are alive despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Surely such false hopes prolong misery.

But I’m more concerned with whether hope is justified concerning big issues like whether life has meaning. Can you justifiably hope that life has meaning? I think you can. The reason is that the situation is not analogous to the Mileans. In their case hope was futile and realism was called for. But regarding questions about the ultimate purpose of the ourselves and the cosmos, we just don’t know enough to say that hope is not justified. Thus we can legitimately have hope that life is meaningful without being moral cowards. Still life may be pointless and meaningless. We just don’t know.

But if we bravely accept that we just don’t know whether life is meaningful or not, then we live with moral and intellectual integrity. And there is no more honest or better way to live.

 

 

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Rebirth

“He allowed himself to be swayed by his conviction that human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.” ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez  (from Love in the Time of Cholera)

Marquez died a few days ago. I have not read any of his novels but was vaguely familiar with them from some tapes I use to listen to. The quote above is especially nice, relaying the sense in which we can continually re-create ourselves–at least to some extent. In an ideal world individuals would live in situations where this was possible, where they could actualize their potential and develop their talents.

Unfortunately we live in a world of pain, poverty, greed, lying, imprisonment and other injustices. In a world where most lack the basic necessities while others have more than is good for them; where politicians deny people health care or willingly enslave and exploit others for profit. How should we respond? I don’t know. We try to bring goodness to the little spec of reality in which we live, knowing that our efforts are feeble in the face of the weight of an infinite universe crashing down upon us.

So is the problem in the stars or in ourselves? It is in both. We are thrown into a reality that we did not make with a nature we did not choose, drifting along the current, paddling, grasping, thinking and hoping … that somehow we can change both the stars and ourselves. Hoping that everything can be continually and more perfectly, reborn.

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More on Death

I have written extensively on why: 1) we should use technology to defeat death; 2) death is one of the greatest tragedies to befall us; and 3) death makes completely meaningful lives impossible. In my recent post (“The Fable of the Dragon-Tyrant,” April 17, 2014) I summarized Nick Bostrom’s story that makes similar points. In response I received this perceptive comment:

Love that story. Given that we now see death as a result of genetic programming. Literally, programmed cell death. You could tell a similar story but have everyone born with a ticking time bomb strapped to them. same point but more accurate. People of the religious or “death gives life meaning” crowd would be arguing against disarming this bomb.

The “ticking time bomb” conveys the sense in which death is always with us, not merely at the end of the road like the dragon-tyrant. In Bostrom’s image you stand in line awaiting your fate–which is bad enough–but strapped to a ticking time bomb you can blow up anytime, which is a more accurate description of our situation. Death is always near.

The deathists–the lovers of death–don’t disarm the bomb because its detonation transports you to a better address–from a slum to a mansion. Even better, in the mansion your mind and body are eternally bathed in a salve of peace, love, and joy. That is the justification for opposing the bomb’s removal.

The problem is this story is fictional. And we know that most people agree because, as I’ve said many times in my blog and books, when humans conquer death, slay the dragon-tyrant, and learn to remove the bomb–they will. And those who have the option to live forever will be eternally grateful that they have the real thing, instead of the empty promises they now pay for each Sunday in church.

Consciousness has come a long way from its beginnings in a primordial soup … but there is so much farther to go. Let’s put our childhood behind us, and make something of ourselves.

I say no man has ever yet been half devout enough;

None has ever yet adored or worship’d half enough;

None has begun to think how divine he himself is,

And how certain the future is.

O strain, musical, flowing through the ages—now reaching hither!

I take to your reckless and composite chords—I add to them,

And cheerfully pass them forward.

~ Walt Whitman

The Beauty of Skepticism

The biologist and paleontologist Stephen Jay Gould (1941-2002) was one of the most prolific and widely read authors of popular science in the twentieth-century. (Links to a few of his books can be found below.) In addition to authoring or editing more than twenty books, he penned the foreword to Michael Shermer’s 1997 book, Why People Believe Weird Things: Pseudoscience, Superstition, and Other Confusions of Our Time. That foreword is a clear and concise statement of the value of skepticism.

Gould begins by noting that the intellectual and moral need for skepticism arises because “Our patterns of thought and action lead to destruction and brutality as often as to kindness and enlightenment.“1  In short, humans are capable of heartrending nobility and unspeakable horror. How then to save ourselves from violent crusades, witch trails, inquisitions, enslavement, genocides and holocausts? To do so we need both morality and rationality. For without reason

“we will lose out to the frightening forces of irrationality, romanticism, uncompromising “true” belief, and the apparent resulting inevitability of mob action. Reason … is also our potential salvation from the vicious and precipitous mass action that rule by emotionalism always seems to entail. Skepticism is the agent of reason against organized irrationalism–and is therefore one of the keys to human social and civil decency.“2

Reason is our most powerful instrument to combat irrationality in all its forms–psychics, young-earth creationists, faith healers, holocaust  and climate change deniers, Ayn Rand cultists, vaccination avoiders and all the other pseudo sciences and superstitions of our time. As Gould says: “Our best weapons come from the arsenals of basic scientific procedures–for nothing can beat the basic experimental technique of the double-blind procedure and the fundamental observational methods of statistical analysis.”3 The application of elementary scientific tools easily defeats almost all modern irrationalism.

Why then skepticism’s bad reputation? Perhaps because it is thought of as a debunking, nihilistic activity. Skeptics seem to take away the magical and mysterious explanations that we so enjoy. But skepticism does more than debunk–it offers a better, alternative explanation rooted in reason and evidence. As Gould concludes: “The alternative model is rationality itself tied to moral decency–the most powerful joint instrument for good that our planet has ever known.”4

I miss Gould’s voice.

Why People Believe Weird Things: Pseudoscience, Superstition, and Other Confusions of Our Time

The Mismeasure of Man (Revised & Expanded)

The Structure of Evolutionary Theory

The Book of Life: An Illustrated History of the Evolution of Life on Earth (Second Edition)

Rocks of Ages: Science and Religion in the Fullness of Life

Wonderful Life: The Burgess Shale and the Nature of History

1. Michael Shermer, Why People Believe Weird Things: Pseudoscience, Superstition, and Other Confusions of Our Time, (New York: Henry Holt & Co. 1997) ix.

2. Michael Shermer, Why People Believe Weird Things: Pseudoscience, Superstition, and Other Confusions of Our Time, (New York: Henry Holt & Co. 1997) x.

3. Michael Shermer, Why People Believe Weird Things: Pseudoscience, Superstition, and Other Confusions of Our Time, (New York: Henry Holt & Co. 1997) xi.

4. Michael Shermer, Why People Believe Weird Things: Pseudoscience, Superstition, and Other Confusions of Our Time, (New York: Henry Holt & Co. 1997) xii.

The Fable of the Dragon-Tyrant

Nick Bostrom is a co-founder of the World Transhumanist Association (now called Humanity+) and co–founder of the Institute for Ethics and Emerging Technologies. He is currently Professor, Faculty of Philosophy & Oxford Martin School; Director, Future of Humanity Institute; and Director, Program on the Impacts of Future Technology; all at Oxford University.

Bostrom’s article, “The Fable of the Dragon-Tyrant,” tells the story of a planet ravaged by a dragon (death) that demands a tribute which is satisfied only by consuming thousands of people each day. Neither priests with curses, warriors with weapons, or chemists with concoctions could defeat the dragon. The elders were selected to be sacrificed, although they were often wiser than the young, because they had at least lived longer than the youth. Here is a description of their situation:

Spiritual men sought to comfort those who were afraid of being eaten by the dragon (which included almost everyone, although many denied it in public) by promising another life after death, a life that would be free from the dragon-scourge. Other orators argued that the dragon has its place in the natural order and a moral right to be fed. They said that it was part of the very meaning of being human to end up in the dragon’s stomach. Others still maintained that the dragon was good for the human species because it kept the population size down. To what extent these arguments convinced the worried souls is not known. Most people tried to cope by not thinking about the grim end that awaited them.1

Given the ceaselessness of the dragon’s consumption, most people did not fight it and accepted the inevitable. A whole industry grew up to study and delay the process of being eaten by the dragon, and a large portion of the society’s wealth was used for these purposes. As their technology grew, some suggested that they would one day build flying machines, communicate over great distances without wires, or even be able to slay the dragon. Most dismissed these ideas.

Finally, a group of iconoclastic scientists figured out that a projectile could be built to pierce the dragon’s scales. However, to build this technology would cost vast sums of money and they would need the king’s support. (Unfortunately, the king was busy raging war killing tigers, which cost the society vast sums of wealth and accomplished little.) The scientists then began to educate the public about their proposals and the people became excited about the prospect of killing the dragon. In response the king convened a conference to discuss the options.

First to speak was a scientist who explained carefully how research should yield a solution to the problem of killing the dragon in about twenty years. But the king’s moral advisors said that it is presumptuous to think you have a right not to be eaten by the dragon; they said that finitude is a blessing and removing it would remove human dignity and debase life. Nature decries, they said, that dragons eat people and people should be eaten. Next to speak was a spiritual sage who told the people not to be afraid of the dragon, but a little boy crying about his grandma’s death moved most toward the anti-dragon position.

However, when the people realized that millions would die before the research was completed, they frantically sought out financing for anti-dragon research and the king complied. This started a technological race to kill the dragon, although the process was painstakingly slow, and filled with many mishaps. Finally, after twelve years of research the king launch a successful dragon-killing missile. The people were happy but the king saddened that they had not started their research years earlier—millions had died unnecessarily. As to what was next for his civilization, the king proclaimed: “Today we are like children again. The future lies open before us. We shall go into this future and try to do better than we have done in the past. We have time now—time to get things right, time to grow up, time to learn from our mistakes, time for the slow process of building a better world…”2

I agree, we should try to overcome the tyranny of death with technology.

1. Nick Bostrom, “The Fable of the Dragon-Tyrant,” Journal of Medical Ethics (2005) Vol. 31, No. 5: 273.

2. Bostrom, “The Fable of the Dragon-Tyrant,” 277.

Gabriel Marcel on Creativity and Hope

There are two ideas in Marcel’s philosophy, in addition to those discussed in yesterday’s post, that I would like to discuss briefly–the importance of creative fidelity and of hope.

Creative Fidelity – For Marcel to exist existentially, as opposed to just functionally, one must be creative. As he argues: “A really alive person is not merely someone who has a taste for life, but somebody who spreads that taste, showering it, as it were, around him; and a person who is really alive in this way has, quite apart from any tangible achievements of his, something essentially creative about him …”1

What Marcel calls “creative fidelity” involves giving a part of ourselves to others, which we can do by sharing love and friendship as well as through the creative, performing, and fine arts. Creative fidelity binds us to others, recognizing their subjectivity while expressing our own. Creative fidelity is the tenacious, constant desire to elaborate who we are–to have a greater sense of being, we need creative fidelity. We truly become creatively faithful when we overcome the gap between ourselves and others, when we make ourselves present  to them. 

Hope – Hope guarantees fidelity by defeating despair–it gives us the strength to continually create–but it is not the same as optimism. Optimism, like fear or desire, imagines or anticipates a favorable or unfavorable outcome. We “desire that x” or “fear that x.” Hope is different. We don’t hope that x, we simply hope. Hope reject the current situation as final, but it doesn’t anticipate a specific result that will deliver us from our plight, it transcends anticipating a specific form of our deliverance–it is a vague hoping. My desires can be thwarted, but if I maintain hope no outcome will shake me from my hope. (It seems I could say the same the same of my desires or fears.) It is the very non-specificity of hoping, according to Marcel, that gives hope its power.

Yet hope is not passive; it is not resignation or acceptance. Instead “Hope consists in asserting that there is at the heart of being, beyond all data, beyond all inventories and all calculations, a mysterious principle which is in connivance with me.”2 And hope is a willing, a wanting, not only for ourselves but for others. “There can be no hope that does not constitute itself through a we and for a we. I would be tempted to say that all hope is at the bottom choral.”3 For genuine hope we cannot depend completely upon ourselves–it derives from humility not pride.

Thus there is a dialectical relationship between hope and despair. We can respond to despair with hope, and within hope there is always the possibility of despair. To despair is to say there is nothing worthwhile in the world: “Despair is possible in any form, at any moment and to any degree, and this betrayal may seem to be counseled, if not forced upon us, by the very structure of the world we live in.”4 Hope is an affirmative response to despair. Hope affirms that your creative fidelity, your work, your concern, your love, and your life, all ultimately matter.

Reflections – I like the idea of creative fidelity. It is reminiscent of Marx’s idea of non-alienated labor, labor that elaborates who we are, connecting us with ourselves, nature and others. The world would be better if culture encouraged us to be creatively faithful.

I also like the idea of hope, but I think the distinction between optimism, hope, wishes, and longings needs to be more carefully drawn. The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language defines optimism as: “A tendency to expect the best possible outcome or dwell on the most hopeful aspects of a situation.” In neither of these senses am I or is Marcel an optimist. We do not expect our most fervent wishes to come true, nor do we dwell on the most hopeful possibilities. The same source defines hope similarly: “To wish for something with expectation of its fulfillment. To look forward to with confidence or expectation.” In neither of these senses do I or Marcel have hope, because hope thus defined anticipates or expects an outcome.

The sense of hope that both Marcel and I believe in is the verb form of hope–hoping that something happen or be the case–which is essentially the same as wishing or longing for something. We hope, wish or long for some vaguely defined outcome which we do not expect to be fulfilled. For example, we may wish or hope that life is meaningful. But to wish or hope this does not imply that we believe, have faith in, anticipate, or expect that life is meaningful–we are just hoping. Furthermore, our wishes, hopes and longings exist in the realm of emotions, and are thereby immune from most intellectual criticism. After all there is nothing irrational about hoping we win a lottery. We may know the chances of winning are remote, but as long as it’s possible to win, there is nothing wrong with wishing that we win. Of course it’s stupid to think that we’ll win a typical lottery, or to plan our life as if we’ll win, but surely it is permissible to wish or hope for the winning numbers.

Finally I will say this about hope, and I think Marcel would agree. Hope helps us to brave the struggle of life, while keeping alive the possibility that we will create a better and more meaningful reality. Hope is most precious.

__________________________________________________________________________

1. Marcel, Gabriel. The Mystery of Being, Volume I.  (Chicago: Charles Regnery Co, 1951) 139.

2. The Philosophy of Existentialism. Translated by Manya Harari. New York: Carol Publishing Group, 1995) 28.

3. Tragic Wisdom and Beyond. Translated by Stephen Jolin and Peter McCormick. Publication of the Northwestern University Studies in Phenomenology and Existential Philosophy, ed. John Wild. (Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1973) 143.

4. The Philosophy of Existentialism. Translated by Manya Harari. New York: Carol Publishing Group, 1995) 26.

Marcel on Hope

There are two ideas in Marcel’s philosophy, in addition to those discussed in yesterday’s post, that I would like to discuss briefly–the importance creative fidelity and of hope.

Creative Fidelity – For Marcel to exist existentially, as opposed to just functionally, one must be creative. As he argues: “A really alive person is not merely someone who has a taste for life, but somebody who spreads that taste, showering it, as it were, around him; and a person who is really alive in this way has, quite apart from any tangible achievements of his, something essentially creative about him …”1

To be creative we must give ourselves to others, which we do by sharing love and friendship as well as through the creative and performing arts. Creativity binds us to others, it recognizes their subjectivity while expressing our own. What Marcel calls “creative fidelity” is the tenacious, constant desire to elaborate who we are through creativity–to have a greater sense of being, we need creative fidelity. We succeed in this endeavor when we overcome the gap between ourselves and others, when we make ourselves present  to others so as to be truly faithful to them. 

Hope – Hope guarantees fidelity by defeating despair–it gives us the strength to continually create. But this is not the same as optimism. Optimism, like fear or desire, imagines a favorable or unfavorable outcome. However to hope is merely to hope, to reject the current situation as final, but it is not to anticipate a result. If I desire to win a lottery, my desire will probably be thwarted; but if I continually hope, no event or its absence need shake my hope. It is the very non-specificity of hoping that gives hope its power.

Yet hope is not passive; it is not resignation or acceptance. Instead “Hope consists in asserting that there is at the heart of being, beyond all data, beyond all inventories and all calculations, a mysterious principle which is in connivance with me.”2. And hope is a willing, a wanting, not only for ourselves but for others. “There can be no hope that does not constitute itself through a we and for a we. I would be tempted to say that all hope is at the bottom choral.”3 For genuine hope we cannot depend completely upon ourselves–it derives from humility not pride.

Thus there is a dialectical relationship between hope and despair. We can respond to despair with hope, and within hope there is always the possibility of despair. To despair is to say there is nothing worthwhile in the world: “Despair is possible in any form, at any moment and to any degree, and this betrayal may seem to be counseled, if not forced upon us, by the very structure of the world we live in.”4 Hope is an affirmative response to despair. Hope affirms that your creative fidelity, your work, your concern, your love, and your life, ultimately matter.

As I have said previously in this blog, our hope is no small thing.

__________________________________________________________________________

1. Marcel, Gabriel. The Mystery of Being, Volume I.  (Chicago: Charles Regnery Co, 1951) 139.

2. The Philosophy of Existentialism. Translated by Manya Harari. New York: Carol Publishing Group, 1995) 28.

3. Tragic Wisdom and Beyond. Translated by Stephen Jolin and Peter McCormick. Publication of the Northwestern University Studies in Phenomenology and Existential Philosophy, ed. John Wild. (Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1973) 143.

4. The Philosophy of Existentialism. Translated by Manya Harari. New York: Carol Publishing Group, 1995) 26.

Gabriel Marcel on the broken world, problems, and mysteries

Gabriel Marcel (1889-1973), who was born and died in Paris, was one of the leading  Christian existentialists of the twentieth century. Two of his ideas that I find fascinating are his notion of the broken world, and the distinction between a problem and a mystery.1 

The Broken World – According to Marcel we live in a “broken world,” where “ontological exigence” is ignored or silenced. What he apparently means is that exigencies, crises, difficulties, and pressures plague our being. This doesn’t imply that the world was once intact, rather that it is broken in essence–both in its past and present. In the here and now, our being is characterized by a refusal to reflect, imagine and wonder, which leads to denying both the tragic and the transcendent. Marcel believed this is primarily due to the functions we play in modernity–functions that reduce us to automatons who lose a sense of wonder about being. 

This ontological exigence, this desire of being for transcendence, meaning, coherence and truth, derives from the sense that something is amiss or lacking in the world. Marcel claims this longing is not mere wishing, but an urge or appeal that springs forth from our very nature. Without this sense of longing for transcendent meaning, one doesn’t notice that the world is broken. In this sense exigence is a good thing.

Commentary – I do think we live in a broken world; there is something deeply wrong with being. But I think Marcel’s wrong to say that we cannot live well without an appeal for transcendence. For Marcel transcendence is beyond us, and experiencing it involves “a straining oneself towards something, as when, for instance, during the night we attempt to get a distinct perception of some far-off noise.”2 I assume this noise is Marcel’s God. As my readers know I acknowledge the longing, but deny the existence of the object of Marcel’s longing. Like Camus I want to “live without appeal.” In my view that is the only way to life authentically and with integrity.

Problems and Mystery – The broken world contains multiple problems which are capable of solutions. With data and technology we can solve problems. But we do not completely participate with a problem as a unique individual. We could substitute one scientist for another and the problem wouldn’t change–it exists independently of the scientist. And solutions to problems become common knowledge which can be rediscovered by anyone.

But we are intimately involved in a mystery. It is a sphere in which the distinction between what is inside and outside of me loses significance. When dealing with mysteries subjectivity matter, a mystery is one’ own. Moreover, mysteries can’t be solved; they are meta-problematic. (Hence the well-known aphorism attributed variously to Marcel and others: “Life is not a problem to be solved but a mystery to be lived.”) Mysteries are ineffable, incommunicable, and yet our subjectivity is built upon participating in them. I can have a problem–I can possess it–but essentially I am a mystery for my mysteries involve my being. Ultimately, to truly confront mystery, one must open themselves up to the avenues designed for this purpose–religion, art, and metaphysics.

Commentary – Reading continental philosophy it is hard to distinguish between profound insight and arcane gibberish. There are some problems we have solved–how did the species evolve–and there are unsolved problems. Whether the unsolved problems are different from unsolved mysteries is debatable. And whether there are some essentially unsolvable, incommunicable problems/mysteries–incapable of being understood in principle–raises deep issues in philosophy of language and epistemology. On the other hand there is a certain intuitive appeal to the idea that living well involves accepting mysteries, but it seems we must just as well say it involves accepting problems. I’m just not sure if the problem/mystery distinction holds.

Still whether we call them problems or mysteries there is much that is unknown and perhaps unknowable. I agree then that there are mysteries, but I’m not sure what to make of it when mystics talk them. Perhaps mystics should head Wittgenstein’s advice: Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.” So if we do talk about mystery, we would do well not take our musings too seriously.

And yet there is something so compelling about a mystery …

__________________________________________________________________________

1. I begin with a disclaimer–my knowledge of Marcel is rudimentary. I am responsible for misinterpretations, omissions, and other mistakes.

2. 1951a, The Mystery of Being, vol.1, Reflection and Mystery. Translated by G. S. Fraser. London: The Harvill Press.

Marcel on the broken world, problems, and mysteries

Gabriel Marcel (1889-1973), who was born and died in Paris, was one of the leading  Christian existentialists of the twentieth century. Two of his ideas that I find fascinating are his notions of the broken world, and the distinction between a problem and a mystery.1 

The Broken World – According to Marcel we live in a “broken world,” where “ontological exigence” is ignored or silenced. What he apparently means is that exigencies, crises, difficulties, and pressures plague our being. This doesn’t imply that the world was once intact, rather that it is broken in essence–both in its past and present. In the here and now, our being is characterized by a refusal to reflect, imagine and wonder, which leads to denying both the tragic and the transcendent. Marcel believed this is primarily due to the functions we play in modernity–functions that reduce us to automatons who lose a sense of wonder about being. 

This ontological exigence, this desire of being for transcendence, meaning, coherence and truth, derives from the sense that something is amiss or lacking in the world. Marcel claims this longing is not mere wishing, but an urge or appeal that springs forth from our very nature. Without this sense of longing for transcendent meaning, one doesn’t notice that the world is broken. In this sense exigence is a good thing.

Commentary – I do think we live in a broken world; there is something deeply wrong with being. But I think Marcel’s wrong to say that we cannot live well without an appeal for transcendence. For Marcel transcendence is beyond us, and experiencing it involves “a straining oneself towards something, as when, for instance, during the night we attempt to get a distinct perception of some far-off noise.”2 I assume this noise is Marcel’s God. As my readers know I acknowledge the longing, but deny the existence of the object of Marcel’s longing. Like Camus I want to “live without appeal.” In my view that is the only way to life authentically and with integrity.

Problems and Mystery – The broken world contains multiple problems which are capable of solutions. With data and technology we can solve problems. But we do not completely participate with a problem as a unique individual. We could substitute one scientist for another and the problem wouldn’t change–it exists independently of the scientist. And solutions to problems become common knowledge which can be rediscovered by anyone.

But we are intimately involved in a mystery. It is a sphere in which the distinction between what is inside and outside of me loses significance. When dealing with mysteries subjectivity matter, a mystery is one’ own. Moreover, mysteries can’t be solved; they are meta-problematic. (Hence the well-known aphorism attributed variously to Marcel and others: “Life is not a problem to be solved but a mystery to be lived.”) Mysteries are ineffable, incommunicable, and yet our subjectivity is built upon participating in them. I can have a problem–I can possess it–but essentially I am a mystery for my mysteries involve my being. Ultimately, to truly confront mystery, one must open themselves up to the avenues designed for this purpose–religion, art, and metaphysics.

Commentary – Reading continental philosophy it is hard to distinguish between profound insight and arcane gibberish. There are some problems we have solved–how did the species evolve–and there are unsolved problems. Whether the unsolved problems are different from unsolved mysteries is debatable. And whether there are some essentially unsolvable, incommunicable problems/mysteries–incapable of being understood in principle–raises deep issues in philosophy of language and epistemology. On the other hand there is a certain intuitive appeal to the idea that living well involves accepting mysteries, but it seems we must just as well say it involves accepting problems. I’m just not sure if the problem/mystery distinction holds.

Still whether we call them problems or mysteries there is much that is unknown and perhaps unknowable. I agree then that there are mysteries, but I’m not sure what to make of it when mystics talk them. Perhaps mystics should head Wittgenstein’s advice: Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.” So if we do talk about mystery, we would do well not take our musings too seriously.

And yet there is something so compelling about a mystery …

__________________________________________________________________________

1. I begin with a disclaimer–my knowledge of Marcel is rudimentary. I am responsible for misinterpretations, omissions, and other mistakes.

2. 1951a, The Mystery of Being, vol.1, Reflection and Mystery. Translated by G. S. Fraser. London: The Harvill Press.