The intrusion not just of religion, but of a particular kind of religion, into the presidential campaign of our beloved United States is disturbing but not entirely surprising. The people of this nation revel in public displays of affectation, particularly when it comes to religious affectation, and there is a certain subset of the population which makes up a portion of the Republican Party and what is called the Right which expects this of our politicians. But it seems that others do so as well, as we see our President thinks it necessary to tell us his religious beliefs inform his political beliefs.
It is somewhat surprising that a Catholic candidate is indulging in these displays and being lauded for it by "social conservatives." This is still in many ways a Protestant country (though that is changing), and American protestants have never given up thinking of the Roman Church as the Great Whore of Babylon. But politics makes strange bedfellows, to coin a phrase.
I have a sentimental fondness for the Catholic Church and its God--the God of my joy and my youth, as we altar boys used to say with our knees resting on marble or some kind of stone, even in Latin until Vatican II sent its great wind blowing through the Church, making it even less universal than it had already become by that time. I have little respect, though, for those religions which insist that there is a devil, though the concept of the devil has been the source of many great works of literature which are worthy of respect. Satan is in some respects a great literary figure; Milton's titanic rebel comes to mind.
The devil as a malignant, evil being or force presents certain problems for the religious, I think. One can't help but wonder why his existence is tolerated by God, who presumably would be allowing him to wreck havoc as he does if God is all-powerful. Addressing this difficulty by concluding God is not all-powerful doesn't seem very satisfying. Of course, those who believe in a devil manage to find an explanation for his existence of one kind or another, or simply dismiss the dilemma as yet another instance of God moving in mysterious ways.
A more practical problem is that such a conception of the devil, to me at least, inclines us to excuse, or even deny, our responsibility for the evil we do. Who are we to resist the Prince of Darkness? We are deceived, overwhelmed by his machinations when we do evil, we have been turned astray. We are poor little lambs and have lost our way.
Of course we will also say that we should not have listened to the Father of Lies, or that we should have sought God's assistance and so evaded him, or that if we had been truly good, full of grace would not have done evil. In this way we can say that we have done evil and sin when we do so. We can maintain that we are ultimately responsible, to God that is. But it seems to me that if we believe in Satan in this fashion we at least manage to insist that we share responsibility for the evil we do with a powerful, supernatural being necessarily even more responsible for that evil. I think this a craven, cowardly point of view. We should accept full responsibility for our acts and omissions.
Worse, the belief that there is some powerful evil force at large that is apart from us and has set its sights on us inclines us not to seek the abolition of evil by transforming ourselves and our environment. We look to be saved from evil by some higher power rather than taking the steps available to us (beyond praying) to control ourselves, our communities and institutions.
Satan hasn't set his sights on America. We are quite capable of destroying it all by ourselves, and may well do so if we fail to take responsibility for the decisions we make and fail to make them intelligently.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Thinking about the Law
I'm a practicing lawyer, but am inclined now and then to read, and wonder about, the philosophy of law. Sometimes I read and wonder about it in the same sense I sometimes read and wonder about the "philosophy" of other things--with a combination of fascination and disbelief. The disbelief is the result not necessarily of scepticism regarding what has been written, but amazement that it has been written. Some of us have a colossal desire to explore, define and map out the limits of the otiose. Other times, I read it because I think it may have a use.
Since the philosophy of law addresses the law, it addresses something we must take account of a great deal of the time as we live out lives. Particularly in the United States, the law is pervasive, and administered by a variety of institutions and entities that are almost literally everywhere one goes. It is something that is not only useful to know, but it must be known because it governs our conduct and is in some cases accompanied by a sanction. In certain instances, it mischievously takes the position that regardless of whether we know it, we are charged with knowing it ("ignorance of the law is no excuse").
I find myself torn between those philosophers of law who are proponents of natural law and those who are positivists. By "natural law" I don't mean the view that good human laws are derivative of the laws of God imposed by divine command, and that those laws accordingly ought to be obeyed on that basis. Instead, I mean the view that good laws (laws which are beneficial to people) may be derived from the consideration of our nature and our place and conduct in the world of which we are a part. For purposes of this post, I will define legal "positivism" as the view that for purposes of determining what to do with the law it is most useful to analyse it as it exists and functions, not to theorize regarding its most perfect form and organization.
I'm rather leery of those who philosophize regarding the law yet have no significant experience in the law as a system. Those who participate in the system that is the law have more knowledge of it than those who do not. I suppose practicing scientists must feel the same way about the philosophy of science as a practicing lawyer (or at least this one) feels about the philosophy of law. There may be value of a sort to taking a detached view, but the philosopher of X often is too detached from X simply because he/she is ignorant of it as it actually exists. Most especially, ignorant of it as an operating system. This can lead them to hypostasize their own view of the law, and seek to impose it. An example of this tendency is Plato's view of the law, and of course the state, as the means by which we are marched in separate, rigidly organized platoons of differing purposes towards the good.
The law as a system has become so vast and all-encompassing it probably doesn't lend itself to the kind of categorization and defining beloved of philosophers. The Austinian view of law is far too narrow, for example, and has been justly criticized as being applicable solely to criminal law if to any kind of law. The law as an operating system should be considered just that, and this requires that it be considered in itself without consideration of what it ought to be; it is what it is, and we don't come to understanding something as it is by determining what it should be. This is the manner in which positivism can be useful. Establish how we may productively change the law requires that we consider what should be the case, and this is where sophisticated systems of natural law may be useful. But we can't understand how or to what extent the law should be changed or the extent to which it does or does not serve a desirable purpose unless we know it as it is.
Since the philosophy of law addresses the law, it addresses something we must take account of a great deal of the time as we live out lives. Particularly in the United States, the law is pervasive, and administered by a variety of institutions and entities that are almost literally everywhere one goes. It is something that is not only useful to know, but it must be known because it governs our conduct and is in some cases accompanied by a sanction. In certain instances, it mischievously takes the position that regardless of whether we know it, we are charged with knowing it ("ignorance of the law is no excuse").
I find myself torn between those philosophers of law who are proponents of natural law and those who are positivists. By "natural law" I don't mean the view that good human laws are derivative of the laws of God imposed by divine command, and that those laws accordingly ought to be obeyed on that basis. Instead, I mean the view that good laws (laws which are beneficial to people) may be derived from the consideration of our nature and our place and conduct in the world of which we are a part. For purposes of this post, I will define legal "positivism" as the view that for purposes of determining what to do with the law it is most useful to analyse it as it exists and functions, not to theorize regarding its most perfect form and organization.
I'm rather leery of those who philosophize regarding the law yet have no significant experience in the law as a system. Those who participate in the system that is the law have more knowledge of it than those who do not. I suppose practicing scientists must feel the same way about the philosophy of science as a practicing lawyer (or at least this one) feels about the philosophy of law. There may be value of a sort to taking a detached view, but the philosopher of X often is too detached from X simply because he/she is ignorant of it as it actually exists. Most especially, ignorant of it as an operating system. This can lead them to hypostasize their own view of the law, and seek to impose it. An example of this tendency is Plato's view of the law, and of course the state, as the means by which we are marched in separate, rigidly organized platoons of differing purposes towards the good.
The law as a system has become so vast and all-encompassing it probably doesn't lend itself to the kind of categorization and defining beloved of philosophers. The Austinian view of law is far too narrow, for example, and has been justly criticized as being applicable solely to criminal law if to any kind of law. The law as an operating system should be considered just that, and this requires that it be considered in itself without consideration of what it ought to be; it is what it is, and we don't come to understanding something as it is by determining what it should be. This is the manner in which positivism can be useful. Establish how we may productively change the law requires that we consider what should be the case, and this is where sophisticated systems of natural law may be useful. But we can't understand how or to what extent the law should be changed or the extent to which it does or does not serve a desirable purpose unless we know it as it is.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
"According to Nature"
This may be considered the ultimate directive of Stoicism, its answer to the question: "How should we live?" Taken in itself it seems rather vague guidance, however.
There are some systems or theories of ethics that purport to set forth a single rule to govern us in moral conduct or making moral judgments. The quasi-hermit Kant, who seemed (naturally enough, perhaps, given his very limited experience of the world) to think it necessary to develop such a rule to avoid the horror of having to make judgments on a case-by-case basis, came up with his categorical imperative. The Utilitarians manufactured (it seems an appropriate word) the principle of utility. It would certainly be convenient if we had one rule on which we could rely whenever decisions are to be made. Then we could avoid thinking, which is such a chore for us all. It in any case seems that we have, throughout our history, sought for single rules and explanations for those things, questions and problems that concern us.
This seems a hopeless quest in most cases, though. The classical Pragmatists thought there can be no single rule where moral judgments are concerned. They valued thinking and the application of intelligence, which Dewey called "inquiry." Rules such as the categorical imperative, the principle of utility, the Golden Rule, may all provide guidance to us in our decision making, but they should be considered guidelines, not rules or laws to be relentlessly and absolutely applied in all cases regardless of the circumstances. Moral judgments are practical decisions; they should not be based on some absolute law or injunction. Each ethical problem we encounter will be unique, as we will not encounter exactly the same circumstances in each case. We consider the situation in the context of our history, various norms cultural and otherwise, our desires, means and ends, past decisions and their consequences, we employ our intelligence, make a decision and take the results into consideration in making future decisions.
Does Stoicism make the same attempt to establish one rule to be employed in all cases? "Live according to nature" seems vague indeed, but some clarification is provided by the Stoics, and it will be seen this directive can be very broad. Living according to nature apparently includes discerning things in our control and things out of our control, focusing on what we can control and remaining indifferent to what is not. It requires the employment and development of our reason, which is peculiar to human nature (and traditionally said to be the part of the divine in which we share). It mandates that we recognize ourselves as citizens of the world, that we honor the "brotherhood of man." It teaches us not to be acquisitive or selfish, i.e. to seek and obtain mere things.
By living in accordance with nature, we perceive ourselves to be parts of nature, parts of the universe, and rather small parts at that. Wealth, glory, power, popularity, domination all appear insignificant in that context. Our acknowledgment we are parts of the universe encourages us not to see other parts of the universe as subject to our exploitation, i.e. as there exclusively for our use and enjoyment.
The dictum "live according to nature" may most sensibly be seen not as a single rule, but as encompassing various guides to living--not only to achieve personal tranquility but to beneficially interact with other parts of the universe, not merely humans but other creatures and things. The criticism sometimes made of Stoicism, that it is essentially selfish, is unfounded as Stoicism is based on considering life from a universal perspective, and such a perspective renders selfishness infantile.
There are some systems or theories of ethics that purport to set forth a single rule to govern us in moral conduct or making moral judgments. The quasi-hermit Kant, who seemed (naturally enough, perhaps, given his very limited experience of the world) to think it necessary to develop such a rule to avoid the horror of having to make judgments on a case-by-case basis, came up with his categorical imperative. The Utilitarians manufactured (it seems an appropriate word) the principle of utility. It would certainly be convenient if we had one rule on which we could rely whenever decisions are to be made. Then we could avoid thinking, which is such a chore for us all. It in any case seems that we have, throughout our history, sought for single rules and explanations for those things, questions and problems that concern us.
This seems a hopeless quest in most cases, though. The classical Pragmatists thought there can be no single rule where moral judgments are concerned. They valued thinking and the application of intelligence, which Dewey called "inquiry." Rules such as the categorical imperative, the principle of utility, the Golden Rule, may all provide guidance to us in our decision making, but they should be considered guidelines, not rules or laws to be relentlessly and absolutely applied in all cases regardless of the circumstances. Moral judgments are practical decisions; they should not be based on some absolute law or injunction. Each ethical problem we encounter will be unique, as we will not encounter exactly the same circumstances in each case. We consider the situation in the context of our history, various norms cultural and otherwise, our desires, means and ends, past decisions and their consequences, we employ our intelligence, make a decision and take the results into consideration in making future decisions.
Does Stoicism make the same attempt to establish one rule to be employed in all cases? "Live according to nature" seems vague indeed, but some clarification is provided by the Stoics, and it will be seen this directive can be very broad. Living according to nature apparently includes discerning things in our control and things out of our control, focusing on what we can control and remaining indifferent to what is not. It requires the employment and development of our reason, which is peculiar to human nature (and traditionally said to be the part of the divine in which we share). It mandates that we recognize ourselves as citizens of the world, that we honor the "brotherhood of man." It teaches us not to be acquisitive or selfish, i.e. to seek and obtain mere things.
By living in accordance with nature, we perceive ourselves to be parts of nature, parts of the universe, and rather small parts at that. Wealth, glory, power, popularity, domination all appear insignificant in that context. Our acknowledgment we are parts of the universe encourages us not to see other parts of the universe as subject to our exploitation, i.e. as there exclusively for our use and enjoyment.
The dictum "live according to nature" may most sensibly be seen not as a single rule, but as encompassing various guides to living--not only to achieve personal tranquility but to beneficially interact with other parts of the universe, not merely humans but other creatures and things. The criticism sometimes made of Stoicism, that it is essentially selfish, is unfounded as Stoicism is based on considering life from a universal perspective, and such a perspective renders selfishness infantile.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Our Fascination with Futility
I sometimes wonder what we would achieve if we followed the Stoic dictum that we should concern ourselves with things within our control, and disregarded things beyond our control.
Someone might object that there are things currently thought to be beyond our control that would in fact be within our control if we but attempted to control them. Well and good; but this is something we address by doing things we can control (say, engaging in experiment) in the course of living our lives, in encountering problems we seek to solve.
This Stoic dictum is I think one of the aspects of Stoicism which is consistent with Pragmatism. As I've no doubt mentioned before, I tend to agree with "Big John" Dewey that we only think when confronted with problems, and feel that problems are not problems, properly speaking, if they do not admit of a solution. A solution is possible only if it may result in some resolution of the problem on which reasonable people will agree--otherwise, there can be no determinable, satisfactory, outcome.
We may infer that some "problems" are insoluble, and therefore not problems with which we should concern ourselves (as they are quite beyond our control), from various factors. Among them would be the fact that they have been debated relentlessly for thousands of years, and are still debated today, generally using the same arguments or at best variants of those arguments that have been employed for centuries. Most of these "problems" seem to be philosophical or religious in nature.
Clearly, such "problems" recur, and as they are ostensibly insoluble by any reasonable measure their recurrence must be due to some characteristic of humans which disposes us to consider them regardless of the fact that we never arrive at their solution. Perhaps because we never arrive at their solution?
These so-called great questions are not necessarily great because we believe them to be of such importance that we continue to ask them without finding any answer. They may simply be questions which are based on misapprehensions. Or, our reasons for asking them may be fundamentally irrational.
More and more, I feel that many of the "great questions" of humanity have their basis in our failure to take a reasonable view of the universe and our place in it. More specifically, they are caused by our spectacular self-concern, self-love, self-regard.
Note the word "spectacular." There is nothing wrong with the fact we are concerned about ourselves and each other. We should be so concerned. There is less and less reason, however, to believe that we are of particular or peculiar concern from the perspective of the universe or, if you will, God. Each day seems to bring revelations regarding the existence of extra-solar planets, for example, which may harbor not only life "as we know it" but life of other kinds. The immensity of the universe, and the possibility that other universes, equally immense, may exist, renders the view that we are special or have a special importance and significance incredible.
The search for some special, inherent, meaning to our lives, or special purpose, seems misguided from this perspective. So does our tendency to seek explanations for things that do not admit of explanations which humans in particular would be pleased by.
Whether God exists is not something within our control. Whether evil exists is not something within our control. Why evil exists if God exists is not something we can determine through argument. Why we exist is not something we can determine through argument.
How we exist is something within our control. We can determine how most people want to exist, as we can determine what most people desire. We can make reasonable, equable, decisions on how to allocate resources available; we need not be selfish, angry, hateful, superstitious. We have but to control what is in our control, but to do that we must disregard what is not in our control.
Someone might object that there are things currently thought to be beyond our control that would in fact be within our control if we but attempted to control them. Well and good; but this is something we address by doing things we can control (say, engaging in experiment) in the course of living our lives, in encountering problems we seek to solve.
This Stoic dictum is I think one of the aspects of Stoicism which is consistent with Pragmatism. As I've no doubt mentioned before, I tend to agree with "Big John" Dewey that we only think when confronted with problems, and feel that problems are not problems, properly speaking, if they do not admit of a solution. A solution is possible only if it may result in some resolution of the problem on which reasonable people will agree--otherwise, there can be no determinable, satisfactory, outcome.
We may infer that some "problems" are insoluble, and therefore not problems with which we should concern ourselves (as they are quite beyond our control), from various factors. Among them would be the fact that they have been debated relentlessly for thousands of years, and are still debated today, generally using the same arguments or at best variants of those arguments that have been employed for centuries. Most of these "problems" seem to be philosophical or religious in nature.
Clearly, such "problems" recur, and as they are ostensibly insoluble by any reasonable measure their recurrence must be due to some characteristic of humans which disposes us to consider them regardless of the fact that we never arrive at their solution. Perhaps because we never arrive at their solution?
These so-called great questions are not necessarily great because we believe them to be of such importance that we continue to ask them without finding any answer. They may simply be questions which are based on misapprehensions. Or, our reasons for asking them may be fundamentally irrational.
More and more, I feel that many of the "great questions" of humanity have their basis in our failure to take a reasonable view of the universe and our place in it. More specifically, they are caused by our spectacular self-concern, self-love, self-regard.
Note the word "spectacular." There is nothing wrong with the fact we are concerned about ourselves and each other. We should be so concerned. There is less and less reason, however, to believe that we are of particular or peculiar concern from the perspective of the universe or, if you will, God. Each day seems to bring revelations regarding the existence of extra-solar planets, for example, which may harbor not only life "as we know it" but life of other kinds. The immensity of the universe, and the possibility that other universes, equally immense, may exist, renders the view that we are special or have a special importance and significance incredible.
The search for some special, inherent, meaning to our lives, or special purpose, seems misguided from this perspective. So does our tendency to seek explanations for things that do not admit of explanations which humans in particular would be pleased by.
Whether God exists is not something within our control. Whether evil exists is not something within our control. Why evil exists if God exists is not something we can determine through argument. Why we exist is not something we can determine through argument.
How we exist is something within our control. We can determine how most people want to exist, as we can determine what most people desire. We can make reasonable, equable, decisions on how to allocate resources available; we need not be selfish, angry, hateful, superstitious. We have but to control what is in our control, but to do that we must disregard what is not in our control.
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