Eden, Paradise, What We Had, Have and May Have

While exploring the steadily expanding universe of electronic books, I came upon Pagan and Christian Creeds by Edward Carpenter.  It's a good summary of the enormous debt Christianity owes pagan religion and philosophy.  It also is a summary of, and the author speculates on, the similarity of myths throughout human history relating to a Golden Age or Eden which existed in the distant past and a Paradise to come.

Many cultures have myths which relate to a time when humans lived in harmony and innocent bliss with each other, their fellow creatures and nature, just as they have myths of savior gods born of virgin mothers, or mothers somehow impregnated by a god, who are killed and rise again.  The belief in an Eden, common to humanity according to Carpenter, may be a kind of race-recollection of a time when primitive humans though superior in intelligence to other animals nonetheless lived very much like other animals in unity with those of their kind and their environment in general.  According to Carpenter, what drove us from this Eden was the development of self-consciousness (emphasis on the self).  We became concerned with ourselves, our pleasure, and our own personal interaction with God and our salvation, to the exclusion of our relations with each other, nature and our fellow creatures.  From this there came forth a grand procession of evils, culminating for Carpenter in the oddly named Great War (why not the "Great Big War"?).  He wrote in 1919.

Despite the colossal idiocy of that particular war (which he seems to have thought of as the last great paroxysm of selfish evil), Carpenter was hopeful that humanity was on the threshold of a great transformation, which would allow it to once more achieve that ancient harmony with the retention, though, of a kind of intelligence which transcends that of what were once called "savages", i.e. the less civilized of humans.  Religions, and Christianity in particular, would have to acknowledge and accept their evolution from the One World Religion or dissipate.  The emphasis on self would vanish, as would all sorts of nasty things, and we would achieve a kind of paradise, ultimately.

One can't help but wonder whether Carpenter may have been a bit disappointed when things began to go very sour twenty or so years after he wrote, if he lived that long.  I suspect, though, that the Second World War would have been merely grist for his mill; just an indication that we weren't quite there yet--paradise was to be deferred for a time.  Such is human nature, once it succumbs to grand systems of explanation.

I have a certain fondness for practical intelligence and what it can achieve, but flatter myself that I am aware of its limitations.  It's not a very emotionally satisfying product of our species, and we do like to be emotionally satisfied.  In fact, we would rather be emotionally satisfied than anything else.  There's nothing wrong with being emotionally satisfied, and we may have to be emotionally satisfied in order to be truly content.  So, we struggle to achieve such satisfaction, and no doubt always will.

We run into problems, however, when we seek such satisfaction in spite of or separate from the use of our practical intelligence.  We become un-intelligent;  we become grandiose, get mystical--we come to think that our salvation lies in abandoning ourselves to some imagined "real nature" of our species which is, we somehow come to think, irrational.  We might start believing in a great Volk, for example, of which we are but a part, or unifying on a grand quest to achieve a high destiny under an inspired leader.

The quest for unity, "brotherhood", "oneness" with nature need not be exclusively through the irrational, though it cannot be ignored.  The stoics felt it could be obtained through the exercise of intelligence and reason, which they thought to be peculiar to humans--the extraordinary aspect of our nature, compared with that of other creatures.  The emphasis on intelligence as a vehicle, though, necessarily results in a lessening of expectations.  We no longer believe we will march as a vast army against evil, or dance ecstatically towards revelation.  We no longer seek to convert (or destroy, or banish) those who stand in the way of our destiny.  We become cautious, thoughtful.   We seek to resolve problems that present themselves in a more immediate fashion, and which are more likely subject to resolution.  We doubt our conclusions, and those of others, but respect others as well.  We understand that there are things beyond our control, and seek to do what we can to reasonably employ that which is in our control.

This is in some sense a selfish course of action, as it is directed to our own conduct, our own contentment.  But the content don't seek to dominate, repress, kill, torture or imprison others.  There may be a less inspired, quieter path to paradise.

Romanticism and Heroes

Being something of an fan of the history of the Roman Republic and Roman Empire, I took up and began to read, though not through the agency of a divine voice like St. Augustine, a book called Imperial Purple by Edgar Saltus, and was reminded again that there are those who feel excessive admiration for "great men of action" and wondered just why they do.

Saltus essentially drools over Julius Caesar, working himself into a seeming frenzy of adoration, and then proceeds to heap scorn on his chosen heir and adopted son, whom we know as Augustus Caesar.  This puzzles me.  In salivating over Julius, Saltus reminds me of Colleen McCullough, who did much the same in her entertaining books on ancient Rome, and Mary Renault, who may have worshipped Alexander the Great, in her fine novels regarding that remarkable figure, as well as her "non-fiction" effort breathlessly entitled The Nature of Alexander.

It's interesting that these authors glorify the characters and careers of men who were responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands if not millions while simultaneously criticizing, often in a very ad hominen fashion, their more sedate contemporaries.  For Saltus the opposite of his hero is the "cool politician" Augustus (which is how Gore Vidal once referred to him); McCullough selected Cicero as target for her barbs, and Renault chose Demosthenes and Aristotle.  Renault goes so far as to imply that Aristotle had some part in causing the death of Alexander (if her novels are any guide, she seemed disinclined to believe, as do others, that he caused his own death by self-destructive stupidity).

Augustus, Cicero, Demosthenes and Aristotle were certainly not warriors.  What glory they achieved didn't involve wholesale slaughter, at which Julius and Alexander excelled.  They didn't inspire men to race to their deaths or send others to theirs; they probably were not even loved by all but a few.  But we remember them nonetheless.  They are great figures of history.

To focus on Augustus, he was ruthless in his pursuit of power, and condemned hundreds to death in obtaining it.  He was a very poor soldier, and even frail, physically.  He managed, though, to give the Roman world decades of peace--something Julius never could do, and didn't seem particularly interested in doing.  Julius Caesar was certainly a brilliant man, as was Alexander, and neither were "mere" soldiers.  They each had many talents.  But they were also in some sense incapable of imparting peace or stability to the worlds they dominated, assuming they were concerned to do so, which is questionable.  The same could be said of another great romantic hero, Napoleon.  Augustus had enough sense to realize that he could wield almost absolute power without encouraging others to murder him, and had the wit to find a way to structure the state for that purpose.  Julius apparently was incapable of such an effort.

Why do many of us succumb to hero-worship of great military men?  I think we do so for emotional reasons, or perhaps more accurately psychological reasons.  If we paused enough to think, we would likely realize that no reasonable person could admire the devastation wrought by such men in pursuit of what was ultimately their personal glory, regardless of their skill and talents.  But we don't care to stop and think, in this and other things, far too often.  Romanticism is excessive by nature and its heroes are excessive as well.  Reason is skeptical of excess. 

"Graphic Images" Get In Your Eyes

I find the current controversy regarding the plan to emblazon what the media enjoys describing as "graphic images" on cigarette packages interesting as a study in the exercise of governmental power.

I will first establish my bona fides.  I smoked for twenty years--cigarettes mostly, but I was also a pipe smoker.  I'd smoke a cigar once in a great while.  I haven't smoked for many years.  I quit "cold turkey" as we like to put it, although I did use nicotine patches for a time rather half-heartedly.  I don't miss cigarettes, but feel the occasional urge to light up a pipe--I like the smell of pipe tobacco (well, some pipe tobacco).

I smoked many different brands of cigarettes.  I started with Camels; no filters, the hard stuff.  I also smoked Lucky Strikes, Pall Malls and Chesterfields.  I would sometimes smoke Players when I could find them, as they seemed exotic.  The filtered cigarettes I smoked were Viceroys, Marlboros, Marlboro Lights, and even the silly True brand, sometimes.  I never smoked menthol cigarettes.

I can't say I was ever induced to smoke by the images displayed on cigarette packaging.  I found the Pall Mall package amusing, especially the use of the Latin phrase supposedly heard by Constantine in his dream before the battle of the Mulvian Bridge, "In Hoc Signo Vinces."  What, I would wonder regarding the package, was the sign supposed to be, and what was to be conquered?  At least they didn't display the image of the Emperor lighting-up while gazing in amazement at the cross in the sky.

I frankly don't know how I would have been effected by any of the "graphic images" being considered by our wise regulators.  I tend to doubt it, but those were very different times.  Smoking in public was quite common.  It was, in a way, social.  Cigarettes were borrowed, people would ask each other for lights (matches or lighters) during or in the course of striking up a conversation.  Gruesome, ugly packages would have been weird, certainly, but I don't think anyone noticed the packaging in any case, except to identify the brand.

Let's start, as we always should, with the law.  The FDA probably has the authority to make cigarette packing really ugly and disgusting, if it can be reasonably concluded that this will in some manner decrease smoking.  This is a matter of the police power of the government, as the health and welfare of the public are involved, and government has a great deal of discretion when it comes to imposing its police power.  One would hope the government has taken the time to make a record that the regulation proposed will have such an effect.  If it hasn't, and if instead this is the brainchild of some disapproving, but well-meaning (no doubt) bureaucrat, then it is a different story.

I think that adults should be able to smoke if they want to do so, provided it doesn't harm or inconvenience others.  I have no problem, therefore, with laws prohibiting smoking in the presence of others without their consent.  Tobacco being a luxury, and as I don't believe in some kind of absolute right to smoke, I have no problem with taxing or otherwise regulating the sale and use of tobacco, provided the regulations are reasonable.  Prohibiting someone from smoking in his/her home while alone or with other smokers would strike me as unreasonable, regardless of the fact that tobacco may be addictive.  We are long past the point where sneaky tobacco companies can lure people into smoking with ease or through trickery.  Tobacco's effects are too well known, and advertising is heavily regulated.  Adults should be allowed to make choices, even foolish ones, where they harm only themselves.  We have not (yet?) granted government the authority to make us healthy, wealthy or wise as it considers to be the case where only our individual status is concerned, nor should we.

There comes a point, I think, when government intervention of this kind becomes excessive, and that point is reached where the government treats its citizens as if they were utterly incapable of making choices, i.e., where government feels that it must make choices for them, or influence them to make the choices the government believes desirable for them (as opposed to others they are likely to harm by the choice to be made).  There is something in us which makes us think we know better than others what is good for them, and we tend to compel them to do what we think is best for them when we have authority and power.  This is dangerous, as we often don't know what is best for others, and we shouldn't get into the habit of viewing fellow humans as incapable of knowing what is best for them--because what we come to feel for them in that case is, too often, contempt.

Regarding Secularism and Government

The curiously named Newt Gingrich enjoys referring to something called "secular socialism", primarily in reference to what he seems to consider the goal or nature of government as conceived by the Obama administration or, perhaps, liberals in general.  I'd like to focus on his use of the word "secular" for a moment, putting aside the question of socialism.

One wonders just why reference is made to secular socialism.  Is there some religious kind of socialism to be distinguished from the secular sort?  Christian Socialism, perhaps?  This seems a necessary consideration, given the definition of "secularism" one finds lurking in dictionaries.  Is Mr. Gingrich a religious socialist, socialist in the sense that some have claimed Christianity is socialist, to reserve his scorn for secular socialism?

I doubt it.  I think it's more likely that Mr. Gingrich either associates socialism with secularism (or knows the meaning of neither term; which is I suppose to say much the same thing) or is asserting that government should not be secular.  I think it most likely he feels government should not be secular.

It's troubling that some think secularism in government is somehow inappropriate.  That government is secular does not mean that those in government, or those subject to government, must be atheist or in some other sense irreligious.  A secular government is, however, not a religious government.  We've had religious governments before, of course, and there are those who apparently think government should be religious now.  Thus we have nations which have what are called Islamic governments--the rule and law they impose are purported to be Islamic.

If Gingrich and others believe our government should be a religious government, then they could be said to favor a form of government which can fairly be described as un-American.  Our revered Founders quite deliberately and wisely sought to assure that our government would not be a religious government in the sense that it would not be a government dominated by any organized religion.  One doubts even the more extreme of our so-called conservative politicians and pundits (including Gingrich) would deny this fact.  But what could they otherwise mean by criticizing secular government?

Do they feel that if our government representatives would merely invoke God more often, or pray more often, publicly, our government would lose the taint of secularism?  If that's the case, it seems that they would like our government to at least have the appearance of being religious in some sense.  Do they desire that Christ in particular be publicly invoked?  Do they contend that liberal policies are necessarily secular, while conservative policies are necessarily non-secular, if not religious?

None of these seem likely.  If this is the case, though, the probability is they want something else, something which would render government religious in substance and not merely form.  And that is a disturbing thought, for those whose idea of religion may differ from those controlling the government.

Musings on the Midterms

No doubt virtually all on earth have an opinion regarding the results of the midterm elections here in this remarkable nation.  That is not a good reason for expressing mine, but I will do so nonetheless.

Naturally, the first reaction is one of relief; we will not be bombarded with relentless advertisements for the politicians which are foisted upon us by their investors--for a time, at least.  There will be those who will blame the peculiarly uninteresting and repetitive commercials we've endured this election on the Citizens United decision, but I doubt it made any material difference.  The stupidity of the advertising is more annoying, to me, than their negativity.  After all, the reviling on those seeking office is a part of the American tradition.  In the early years of the Republic, politicians were regularly lambasted and even slandered, in an almost fantastic manner.  This gives the vituperation of those days a kind of charm.  Ridicule can be amusing, especially when it is exaggerated.  What we experience today, though, is a kind of dull, ponderous, heavy, plodding, sanctimonious disapproval, transmitted in a simplistic, almost insulting fashion.

After this relief, what I feel most is curiosity.  I can feel no joy or even satisfaction in the outcome.  I don't think the Democrats have lost in status and power because they are evil, or incompetent (any more than any other politicians are incompetent) or venal (any more than any other politicians are venal).  I don't think the Republicans have gained in status in power because they are good, or competent, or less inclined to grease their palms and those of their buyers.  The results of this election seem to me to be caused by a very real dissatisfaction.

I'm curious whether those who benefited in the election are aware of this, and will act upon it.  The dissatisfaction seems to have its basis in economic fears more than anything else.  For my part, I doubt our economic problems will be resolved unless we make a concerted effort to reduce our debt, and the bulk of our expenditures are military.  Whether those in government are capable of making any significant reduction in expenditures is an interesting question.  A significant reduction must be made, but in order to be made those who govern must give up power, and those without power must accept that it cannot be employed to their relief in all cases, and neither of these possibilities are likely in this demanding age.

After curiosity, I'm ashamed in a way to admit that what I feel is fear.  In this country, conservative  politics is too much associated with social and religious concerns and views which are restrictive.  Those who profess to favor limited government often feel that the power of government should be employed in imposing certain social and religious norms.  This is one of the reasons why I prefer to describe myself (when I want to or must do so, which thankfully isn't often) as a classical liberal or even libertarian rather than a conservative.  One hopes that those newly elected won't concern themselves with things like prayer in schools, or teaching of creationism along with evolution, or that eternal American fixation, sexual conduct, and its implications for marriage and reproduction and other things, rather than focusing on restoring economic prosperity and stability.

The question is, I believe:  Can we achieve a limited government without imposing unreasonable limitations on thought and conduct?