A world for dogs
My life is hell because I hope. I hope that it will change, that my circumstances will alter and suddenly, I will be thrown into a world that allows me to fulfil my potentialities. My life is doubly hell because I know that that hope will not, cannot be realised. Or is it?In Myth of Sisyphus, Camus suggests that we must imagine Sisyphus happy because he is able not to hope. He knows that there can be no change in his existence. He will push the rock up the hill forever. I think "happy", for Camus, means "has peace of mind". Sisyphus is not tormented by his ordeal, because he cannot see any alternative. There is no hope of its changing, so he is able to put away any image of a different fate.
I see a parallel between Camus' idea that happiness is only achievable once one has surrendered hope and the Buddha's idea that suffering is an outcome of attachment. What is it that the Buddha believes we are attached to if not hope? Hope that we can escape the limitations of our physical existence, that we can create structures, symbols, images that will have meaning -- with the consequent suffering when they are shown not to, or are broken, as they are doomed to be.
We all understand why dogs are happy. They are happy because they know no different. Yes. And we are unhappy because we do know different. We know that things could be different: there could be peace on earth, people could be nicer to one another, we could be richer, more fulfilled, happier. So we hope for those things.
The chief hope we have, of course, is that the absurd joke that seems to have been played on us, that we are creatures who are capable of conceiving eternity but will die in only a few decades from now at most, will have the punchline of eternal life after all. We will not be plunged into oblivion, ha ha. Nice one, God.
But of course we will. I have no hope at all of anything after death. I find the prospect grim but that alone is not sufficient to inspire me to hope for any other outcome than my extinction. But having come to that conclusion, can I not find a way to accept it calmly? Well no. I approach it with screeching terror. It is a dark cloud over everything one does, thinks, cares for. I look at my children with horror, because I realise that they too must die, and that I have killed them just as surely as I gave them life.
I also look at my life with horror. I cannot surrender hope and I'm tormented by visions of what it could be (not, sadly, coherent or fully formed visions, which would hint at how to reach them, but sharded, incomprehensible dreams, which seem to be alternate realities rather than attainable futures). Worst of all, feeling that it is hopeless is the deepest torment. Feeling that I will not be rescued from this life, that I will not be recognised as talented, worthwhile, interesting (regardless whether I am any of those things, they are what I want to be), that I will not do anything that shows talent, has worth, is interesting, brings me intolerable anguish. I cannot walk down the hill with a steady tread, because I cannot convince myself that I am condemned to push my stone up the hill (or, to avoid stretching the metaphor to extinction, that I am condemned to have a boring, ordinary life that will amount to nothing, and worst of all, condemned to have it here, in this horrible, soulless place -- by which I do not just mean Brisbane).
For me though, hope is suffering. I know it. I am tormented by the hopes I had that I didn't fulfil, and those I have that I will not. There is a serious flaw in Camus' reading of the Sisyphus myth. Only a person with sufficient willingness to think about the world can come to the absurd conclusion. But that person is condemned to be unable to surrender hope cheerfully. (I have not reread enough of the Myth to recall whether Camus suggests an answer to that problem, but I do not remember that he did.) I am a smart guy, I know. I enjoy reading, learning, finding out about the world. But none of that helps me at all. I would be better off if the part of me that wants to learn were simply excised. Because it's the part that's scourging me, goading me, making my life hell. Being able to imagine different worlds is a curse of the thinking person. Dogs cannot. They have no mental space to put other worlds into. I do not know how I can close down my mental space so that I can cease to hope.
I sometimes look at those who have certainty with envy, even if their certainty is entirely illusory. Convinced Christians, fundamentalist Muslims, people with causes are able to live fulfilling lives that make sense to them. Camus criticises this kind of person for the sham of their existence, and he claims that their happiness is not real. But I've never quite understood Camus' basis for despising it, except that the thinking person can clearly see that it is false. But if it does no harm, if it creates a good life, what harm is there in being wrong? What harm is there in the simple acceptance of hope, if it makes you happier than the cruel torment of being unable to accept it and unable to surrender it both? Some existentialists, of course, having thought this far, took the leap into faith, and became Christians. They weren't fooling themselves, as Camus suggests. They were all too aware that they were manufacturing hope. They simply could not see any way to have peace of mind without it, because it is so hard to surrender it entirely.
None of this is to suggest that I think Camus is wrong about the world or that I think hope is a correct solution to the problem of the absurd conclusion. Just as I think that it is too hard for the thinking person to close down hope entirely, I also think that it is too hard for them to accept it entirely. It would not be possible for me to become evangelised. The little demon on my shoulder would not stop saying "it's all bullshit, you know", any more than it stayed silent on Kierkegaard's.
I do not imagine Sisyphus happy. I imagine that the gods have their way with him. Sisyphus was a smart guy, which was what got him into trouble in the first place. Perhaps as he marches down the hill, he puts a brave face on it, but he will surely have the lingering thought that the gods will show mercy. I am the same. I know that my efforts will be unavailing, and perhaps I could more or less accept that. But a small corner would remain confused with hope that the world -- an abstract entity less liable to change its course for me than the Greek gods! -- will show mercy on me.
posted by Dr Zen @ 10:29 am
16 Comments:
"I would be better off if the part of me that wants to learn were simply excised. Because it's the part that's scourging me, goading me, making my life hell. Being able to imagine different worlds is a curse of the thinking person. Dogs cannot. They have no mental space to put other worlds into. I do not know how I can close down my mental space so that I can cease to hope."
This has, more or less, been a recurring thought of mine as well. However, the pretense was recently shattered when, walking through the food court of a local mall, I espied a retarded woman pouring over what looked to be bills.
I think it's best to keep one's wits about oneself. It's the only way, really, to keep one's self intact.
"But I've never quite understood Camus' basis for despising it, except that the thinking person can clearly see that it is false. But if it does no harm, if it creates a good life, what harm is there in being wrong?"
It has been my observation that those who may not be as articulate about their pain are no less keen in feeling it. Personally, I can imagine no greater misery than anguish in ignorance. But then, I have since childhood approached my quest for understanding, for comprehension, as a redemptive one. By and large I feel it has worked. It has seemed to at least have kept me from what looked to be a certain path of destruction. Besides, feeling keenly is more than keenly feeling pain. It is the ability to experience pleasure, I think, that we have to work a bit harder at.
But, I suppose that we are diverging somewhat here on topic. Your languishing seems to be more concerned with your perception of your self-actualization. Beyond the absurd suggestion that those of perhaps lesser intelligence do not have aspirations of being greater! (and this, indeed, is a conceit of the worst order!), I believe that which drives you to learn, if anything, is to be desired in that it is the only thing that could possibly afford solace when faced with such a crisis of spirit. Yes, people delve into religion, but the well of religion is shallow and does not provide for long. Believers in religion seem only to believe for the promise of relief. Initially that faith will relieve, and later that death will relieve. Interestingly enough, I think the case of religion, in fact, better demonstrates the torment of hope.
I think you are being slightly unfair to me. I did not suggest that people of lower intelligence do not aspire to be greater (although I would certainly argue that they aspire to different forms of greatness because, like me, they conceive of possible fates -- however distant that possibility is), only that they were more readily able to put aside those hopes and get on with it. It's simply my experience that some people are better able not to think over much about things. Better able, as I said, to shoulder the burden and put aside unachievable hopes. I accept that I might be misattributing the reason for that ability. Perhaps it is not a function of intelligence but more so of the type of person I am. (The choice of reason is not a product of vanity though. It's part of my quest to find a road out of pointless intellectualism and into living a more satisfactory life.)
And I think you are saying religion is a shallow well for you. For many believers, it exactly resolves the problem of hope by providing all the hope you need. Which was my point. Do you think you find it shallow because you demand more (coherence maybe? structure? or just something more tangible, more "provable"?)? And do you think it's impossible that the needing more is a function of having a more inquiring mind? Or that the inquiring mind is an outcome of intelligence?
I don't know. I don't choose religion precisely because I have a part of me that does not want to subsitute inquiry for a solution. But I am less and less convinced as I go through life that that is a virtue, and that some solutions would not be a good thing in my life.
I likely am being somewhat unfair, but I don't think that I'm entirely off mark either. If it helps, I am willing to own up to having similar thoughts that I only recently put away (and perhaps not for good). My contention (which perhaps hasn't been entirely clear as it is still somewhat being formed as we have this discussion) is that I don't think that being unthinking leads one at all to contentment of self, at least not in humankind, because no matter what we seem to put off, we are rarely that unthinking. Furthermore, I contend that it is reflection and otherwise "profound" thought, that can make one's insignificance just a little more bearable. If you are interested in why I think this, say so. I can try to put together something coherent, but it will take a bit more effort, I'm afraid, than I'm able to muster now.
As for religion, I was speaking more with its effect on those close to me in mind than anything. It often seems to lead to a sort of increasing desperation one tries to surmount through the strict adherence to a code of conduct. Genuine hope, I would think, would lead to a stability and equipoise that I've seldom seen in a Christian. The Christian hope is a thing removed. A hope of a hope. Nevertheless, I think it is dangerous to speak as elliptical about a thing such as religion as I have. I'm bound to go awry somewhere.
I have these sorts of thoughts all the time. Especially at Easter.
I have the same thoughts on death as you do, Zen. In fact, I was messed up for a year (11-12) when I first fully realized what it meant. Couldn't sleep, couldn't think of anything else, etc. But no one knew - I tried mentioning it to my parents, but they brushed it off with some cliche or another. Yet, it is the people who think in the cliches who are okay with death (or who seem to be), and sometimes I envy them, but at the same time I cannot find peace in the cliches, nor can I force a faith. The more comfort people derive from religion is just more evidence to me that it is wishful thinking. Some would say that my "assumption" everything of me will end is a form of faith, since I don't "really know" ... yeah, okay.
...and here's wishing everyone a little piece of mind, however it might be found.
Such a wish may be nothing more than vicarious hope, but I would think that it has its place just the same.
I was just listening to Tom Waits' _Bone Machine_ and I thought to share some lyrics from "That Feel":
Well there's one thing you can't lose
It's that feel
Your pants, your shirt, your shoes
But not that feel
You can throw it out in the rain
You can whip it like a dog
You can chop it down like an old dead tree
You can always see it
When you're coming into town
Once you hang it on the wall
You can never take it down
But there's one thing you can't lose
And it's that feel
You can pawn your watch and chain
But not that feel
It always comes and finds you
It will always hear you cry
I cross my wooden leg
And I swear on my glass eye
It will never leave you high and dry
Never leave you loose
It's harder to get rid of than tattoos
But there's one thing you can't do
Is lose that feel
You can throw it off a bridge
You can lose it in the fire
You can leave it at the altar
But it will make you out a liar
You can fall down in the street
You can leave it in the lurch
Well you say that it's gospel
But I know that it's only church
And there's one thing you can't lose
And it's that feel
It's that feel
~enjoy~
Any claim to know empirically what happens after death is conceit. Trusting in one's own perception and philosophy is a matter of faith, regardless of one's conclusions.
It seems that if there is truly nothing but oblivion to come, that it is altogether unavoidable, and speaks to the necessity to pursue quality and relationship in life as much as we are able. It speaks to the necessity of contentment with your position in life now, because today just is, and from there, a pursuit of betterment for tomorrow for your own sake. It's not that you will achieve the precise result you seek, but that you expended all your resources and human capacity to pursue the temporal hope you choose, with the understanding that there are myriad obstacles that might conspire to change your course, but that cannot detract from the value of having lived to the fullest.
If that makes any sense...
It does. Now if only the biggest choices weren't so very Hobbesian.
efflux, I'll get back to you on your long post. Thanks for the Waits lyric. Very apt. He's my kind of whiskey priest.
Paula, I do not agree at all with the people who make your last statement. There is no "faith" in sticking to what you can observe. They are making a serious error if they compare wishful thinking based on no physical evidence with a belief that is born out of observation. Yes, it's possible to be agnostic between the two positions but they are not equivalent.
Looney, way to create a god of the gaps! How unsatisfying that is. I can tell you exactly what happens after death *empirically*. That's no conceit. You only have a belief in the afterlife because I can't yet show that your mind is an emergent phenomenon. When I can, I'll be able to show *empirically* that it ends when you die too. All you'll be left with is magic. Good luck relying on that. The rest of your post is exactly what I'm talking about. The quality is what you hope for in this life. If you cannot achieve it though, you are going to feel torment.
Don, you might temper your Hobbes with a little Rawls. I don't think Hobbes' notion of what humans consist in was the whole story. My faith, such as I have one, is that he was wrong. I daresay though that, like most faiths, it is a delusion. And not one that's ever brought me any comfort either.
Zen, you contradict yourself. You accept on faith because you assume that you'll at some point be able to show me that the mind is an emergent phenomenon. I accept that all I'm left with is immeasurable magic. I already know that. And sure, I'm counting on it.
But my real point is that we often cannot control the quality of the results because so few of the variables that affect our outcomes are actually within our sphere of control. We have to find quality within the actions of our own will toward the hopes that we have and, failing to achieve, find solace in the life lived in pursuit of those worthy hopes and ideals, recognizing that it was not for lack of living that they weren't achieved, but simply mean chance. If the result is all that matters, then I can see that being torment, but the result should be almost less important than the quality of the life expended striving for the result.
There's no contradiction, Anthony. I don't accept anything. I don't have to. There is no evidence at all for your view. I can take the quite neutral view that there is nothing, because there is, as yet, no evidence for anything. Rationalists do not enlist gaps as evidence. Being able to show definitively that the mind is extinguished too will simply close the gap you rely on.
I agree somewhat with the rest of your post, but that's the fucking problem, innit. Chance has not brought me a lottery win, or a patron, or anything that improves my lot. But too, I do believe that you can mostly master your own fate, so long as you know how. I don't really know how.
Ah, I understand your point (re: gaps). Fair enough.
However, I think you know more than you realize.
Well, I'm of a Socratic bent, Anthony, so I tend to think I know better what I don't know than what I do.
I think you have had a really easy life, with very little real adversity in it. Over coming adversity makes you appreciate what you have. I doubt you will ever experience anything other than transient happiness/contentment.
Being happy is not in your nature.
You always blame others for your unhappiness!
Everything is relative, isn't it? I am well aware that others have had much more to cope with in their lives.
That though is entirely besides the point! I wonder sometimes whether commenters, particularly anonymous ones, actually read what I write. This is nothing to do with whether I have a bad life! I'm not claiming I do. I know it's not. It's just *bad for me*.
I do not blame anyone else for my unhappiness, except where they make me unhappy. If you stamp on my foot, should I blame my foot for the pain?
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