We hear much in this endless presidential election, though not much of any substance. Among the many things spoken of are Judeo-Christian values, or ethics. They have been fodder for pandering politicians for many years, of course. I wonder, though, whether anyone knows just what they are. I personally find them hard to describe. I find it even harder to grasp why they are considered Judeo-Christian.
As they're characterized as Judeo-Christian, there may be a tendency to infer that they consist of values or ethical precepts held in common by Judaism and Christianity. Presumably, then, they may be ascertained through contemplation of similarities between the two religions. One can't help but note, though, that a Jew cannot be a Christian, nor can a Christian be a Jew, because of certain fundamental disagreements pertaining to God's nature and plan. The two religions are contrary in significant respects. Thus fundamentally opposed, what can they have in common?
The Ten Commandments are usually claimed to be part of Judeo-Christian values. Certain of those commandments seem to call to mind the differences between the two religions, however, and not their similarities Just who do Jews and Christians, jointly, believe to be the Lord their God prohibiting them from having any other gods? Jews necessarily don't think Jesus is God; Christians necessarily do. Is there some other God that's the subject of their agreement? The part about graven images presents some problems as well, at least as far as certain Christian communities are concerned. The two religions don't even agree on the Sabbath which is to be kept holy.
It's notable that those who speak of Judeo-Christian values, ethics and tradition seem to be professed Christians in particular. I suspect this is because those who believe in things of any kind that are Judeo-Christian mean when referring to them that they are, in fact, Christian. They are "Judeo" in the same sense Christianity is, Christianity being what true Judaism became and should be. It's convenient to refer to them as Judeo-Christian, though, as it's convenient to acknowledge that Jews exist and much as one may try, one can't get around the fact that what is called the Old Testament was prepared when there were no Christians but there most certainly were Jews.
We Americans seem most inclined to refer to these ethics, values and tradition. And if Google is any guide, it seems that we believe that our Great Republic is founded on them; is in fact their embodiment. The Declaration's evocation of a creator endowing us with inalienable rights is generally cited as being Judeo-Christian. So of course are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. So likewise is the rule of law. Locke, it seems, and the Enlightenment generally didn't influence this document. Something Judeo-Christian did.
The belief in a creator, human rights and the rule of law isn't peculiarly Judeo-Christian, though. Such beliefs, such values, may be peculiarly Western, in the sense that they are Graeco-Roman. It's no coincidence that so many of our institutions are modeled on those of the Roman Republic. One may find these beliefs and values in Cicero or the Stoics. They found their way into Christianity as did so much else of the ancient pagan world, and via Hellenism even into Judaism after Alexander's conquests. But there is nothing particularly Jewish or Christian about them; there's nothing even particularly religious about them, unless the belief in God in itself is religious in the same sense as Judaism and Christianity. Clearly, though, the "god of the philosophers" and the Stoic deity are not gods of the kind worshipped by Jews and Christians.
These days, "Judeo-Christian" is generally distinguished from Muslim, just as it was in the past distinguished from Communism. But if we must draw such distinctions we can do it just as well by referencing the even more ancient past of the West, and in doing so we have a greater claim to accuracy.
Much as we may want to, we can't disregard the many centuries in which Christianity governed the world through the Church and various surrogates of the Christian Roman Empire in defining Christianity or Judeo-Christian. "Liberty" isn't something we can easily associate with those many years, and "happiness" in those times was not properly attainable on Earth, but rather in heaven. We may maintain that Judeo-Christian values suddenly came into being in the late 18th century when the U.S. was formed, but if we do we fool ourselves.
Monday, February 29, 2016
Monday, February 22, 2016
Pascal's Dreary Pensees
The remarkable mathematician Blaise Pascal wrote his Thoughts, as they are called, apparently with the (additional) thought in mind that he would one day publish them in a more refined, finished form. Some believe he intended an apology for Christianity. It is within these Thoughts that his famous, or some would say infamous, "Wager" appears.
If he intended to publish, death intervened; mercifully. I say "mercifully" because if there is one thing that can be said with any certainty, judging from these Thoughts, it is that Pascal held a monumentally dismal view of life. So dismal, in fact, that he describes Montaigne, that sedate, even-tempered gentleman, as "lewd." Perhaps the word in the version I read is a mistranslation; perhaps "lewd" meant something then it doesn't mean now, but one who thinks Montaigne lewd is, it would seem to me, otherworldly in the extreme. Regardless, Pascal's dreary view of life can, I think, explain something about the "Wager."
Perhaps there were moments when Pascal enjoyed being alive. That's difficult to imagine in reading this grim succession of pronouncements, but it's possible. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that what he held in the low esteem so relentlessly expressed in this work was not life but human intelligence, or even knowledge or the pretense of it. We can know nothing for certain, says Pascal, and for him this is the equivalent of saying we can know nothing at all. And indeed, why should we? We are, as he is eager to tell us, insignificant in the universe; he was well aware of this being a mathematician and a physicist. Even at that time it was clear our world is but a small speck.
This plainly was of great concern to him. These dour musings seem to radiate with the conviction that this should not be; to shimmer with the resolve that we cannot allow this to be, or in any case cannot tolerate it being the case. Fortunately for us, God exists, and we are significant to him. We must be significant because God deems us to be, and God must be because we must be significant.
So Pascal is amazed and angered by those who doubt the existence of God. He resents them, in fact. Nobody should doubt the existence of God, according to Pascal, until he has made every effort to believe in him, to not doubt him. Only those who have done this and failed to believe in him should be viewed with anything but contempt. Those failures, it seems, would according to Pascal be worthy of pity if not respect.
The view that we should try as hard as we possibly can to believe before we don't believe is an interesting one. If one has an open mind on the question of God's existence, it would it seems be difficult to do one's utmost to believe in God nonetheless. It's possible that what Pascal is saying is that one should participate diligently in the worship of God, act as if we believed in God and thereby open oneself to God. If after that diligence one doesn't conclude God exists, then at least one made the effort.
Pascal, of course, thinks that if we seek God we'll find him, so it's doubtful he had any expectation that there could be such a thing as an atheist who had tried very hard to find God. It would seem, instead, that he was merely urging those who doubt to be insincere and act as if they did not doubt. They would thereby believe. By acting, sincerely, as if we believe we will come to believe. As an argument, this doesn't appear persuasive, to me at least.
Pascal's difficulty (if I may hazard a guess) appears to arise from the conviction that it is without question that we should believe in God. Atheism is inexcusable as a result, even perverse.
As for the "Wager", a review of it as it appears in this work reveals that it is premised on what seems to me to "stack the deck." Pascal creates a choice which he then maintains is not a choice, as the only choice to make is clear. According to Pascal, there is no question that we must accept that after we die, either we are "annihilated" or not. We are not annihilated if God exists. We must--literally must--choose to think we will be annihilated on death or that God exists, which means we will continue after death. Nobody really wants to choose annihilation, nobody with any sense would do so. So, we naturally choose not to be annihilated, which means we must believe in God.
The Epicurean view that death is nothing and therefore should mean nothing to us is not one Pascal favored. Apparently, he didn't even think it was possible to hold such a view. Nonetheless, it was accepted by Epicureans, and this seems to render dubious Pascal's claim that we must choose God.
Pascal was a man who required certainty, although he was well aware of probabilities. It seems that lacking certainty in life he imposed his own certainties in the form of assumptions which would mandate a certain choice, in the ultimate form of God. How disappointed he must have been with life, and how desperate to contrive a certain afterlife! The "Wager" is no wager, really; there is no chance, no risk, in Pascal's mind, in any case.
If he intended to publish, death intervened; mercifully. I say "mercifully" because if there is one thing that can be said with any certainty, judging from these Thoughts, it is that Pascal held a monumentally dismal view of life. So dismal, in fact, that he describes Montaigne, that sedate, even-tempered gentleman, as "lewd." Perhaps the word in the version I read is a mistranslation; perhaps "lewd" meant something then it doesn't mean now, but one who thinks Montaigne lewd is, it would seem to me, otherworldly in the extreme. Regardless, Pascal's dreary view of life can, I think, explain something about the "Wager."
Perhaps there were moments when Pascal enjoyed being alive. That's difficult to imagine in reading this grim succession of pronouncements, but it's possible. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that what he held in the low esteem so relentlessly expressed in this work was not life but human intelligence, or even knowledge or the pretense of it. We can know nothing for certain, says Pascal, and for him this is the equivalent of saying we can know nothing at all. And indeed, why should we? We are, as he is eager to tell us, insignificant in the universe; he was well aware of this being a mathematician and a physicist. Even at that time it was clear our world is but a small speck.
This plainly was of great concern to him. These dour musings seem to radiate with the conviction that this should not be; to shimmer with the resolve that we cannot allow this to be, or in any case cannot tolerate it being the case. Fortunately for us, God exists, and we are significant to him. We must be significant because God deems us to be, and God must be because we must be significant.
So Pascal is amazed and angered by those who doubt the existence of God. He resents them, in fact. Nobody should doubt the existence of God, according to Pascal, until he has made every effort to believe in him, to not doubt him. Only those who have done this and failed to believe in him should be viewed with anything but contempt. Those failures, it seems, would according to Pascal be worthy of pity if not respect.
The view that we should try as hard as we possibly can to believe before we don't believe is an interesting one. If one has an open mind on the question of God's existence, it would it seems be difficult to do one's utmost to believe in God nonetheless. It's possible that what Pascal is saying is that one should participate diligently in the worship of God, act as if we believed in God and thereby open oneself to God. If after that diligence one doesn't conclude God exists, then at least one made the effort.
Pascal, of course, thinks that if we seek God we'll find him, so it's doubtful he had any expectation that there could be such a thing as an atheist who had tried very hard to find God. It would seem, instead, that he was merely urging those who doubt to be insincere and act as if they did not doubt. They would thereby believe. By acting, sincerely, as if we believe we will come to believe. As an argument, this doesn't appear persuasive, to me at least.
Pascal's difficulty (if I may hazard a guess) appears to arise from the conviction that it is without question that we should believe in God. Atheism is inexcusable as a result, even perverse.
As for the "Wager", a review of it as it appears in this work reveals that it is premised on what seems to me to "stack the deck." Pascal creates a choice which he then maintains is not a choice, as the only choice to make is clear. According to Pascal, there is no question that we must accept that after we die, either we are "annihilated" or not. We are not annihilated if God exists. We must--literally must--choose to think we will be annihilated on death or that God exists, which means we will continue after death. Nobody really wants to choose annihilation, nobody with any sense would do so. So, we naturally choose not to be annihilated, which means we must believe in God.
The Epicurean view that death is nothing and therefore should mean nothing to us is not one Pascal favored. Apparently, he didn't even think it was possible to hold such a view. Nonetheless, it was accepted by Epicureans, and this seems to render dubious Pascal's claim that we must choose God.
Pascal was a man who required certainty, although he was well aware of probabilities. It seems that lacking certainty in life he imposed his own certainties in the form of assumptions which would mandate a certain choice, in the ultimate form of God. How disappointed he must have been with life, and how desperate to contrive a certain afterlife! The "Wager" is no wager, really; there is no chance, no risk, in Pascal's mind, in any case.
Monday, February 15, 2016
R.I.P. Antonin Scalia
It's difficult to assess the work of a jurist qua jurist in these raucously political times. Appellate judges are increasingly judged themselves not by the quality of their opinions or devotion to the rule of law, but by the extent to which their decisions are consistent with those called liberal or conservative, Republican or Democrat.
Judges are themselves responsible for the politicalization of their courts when they openly pledge allegiance to particular political or social positions. Justice Scalia, unfortunately, did so repeatedly and loudly off and sometimes on the bench, and as a consequence there is a tendency to focus, on his death, on his status as a conservative in a court increasingly divided in politics as is the nation itself. As our politics are increasingly mean-spirited, contentious and vulgar, so is our assessment of those who make themselves political figures, judges included.
I think Justice Scalia was very much an activist judge. But as a conservative activist judge he wasn't subject to the condemnation of other judges who were activists in liberal causes. Activist judges were once considered to be liberals almost by definition, but that time has passed. It's doubtful there ever has been or ever will be judges uninfluenced by ideology, but jurisprudence suffers when judges become overtly ideological. So, jurisprudence suffers now, as he nomination process consists of the questioning of nominees regarding their ideological positions only.
It may surprise some that Justice Scalia was a very able supporter of the rights of criminal defendants, thought flag-burning protected by the First Amendment, voted against an effort by the State of California to ban certain video games. He could be a witty and formidable champion of civil liberties. He was generally witty and clever, it seems, which can serve to relieve the ponderous nature of the law and legal opinions.
Perhaps his defense of civil liberties will be seen by some as consistent with his conservatism, but what is now and has been for some time described as conservatism in the United States has been less and less concerned with civil liberties, except those which assure the accumulation of property and money and those associated with the exceedingly broad definition of freedom of religion being used to favor certain religions. Nonetheless, his opinions in favor of civil liberties are what I think most important in his legacy. It seems to me that his conservatism became more like the restrictive, exclusive conservatism of American politics towards the end, though, and that is unfortunate.
He will be remembered as a jurist perhaps primarily for his championship of the somewhat bewildering doctrine of originalism. Originalism provides that judges in ruling on constitutional issues must divine the intent of those who prepared and adopted the Constitution. Ascertaining the intent of those 18th century lawyers and gentlemen is no easy task, however, and like scripture their writings may be used to support various positions. Then there is the undeniable fact that things have changed significantly since 1787, and it seems imprudent to assume that the Constitution should be deemed to reflect only the values and thoughts of those particular men of 229 years ago who would be dumbfounded by much of the world we now live in. It would seem to give little credit to the intelligence of those men to maintain that they would feel and think now just as they did then in light of all that has taken place in more than two centuries.
Perhaps he favored what he believed were 18th century values regardless of the fact that they would be those typically held by those then living and those who drafted and adopted the Constitution. That would explain his decisions which were in opposition to civil liberties as I would define them. His defense of laws against sodomy was disturbing, as it was premised on the position that states should be free to determine what is or is not acceptable conduct. More disturbing to me, however, were the decisions in Citizens United and the dreadful Hobby Lobby case. There it seems to me that he abandoned the defense of civil liberties while purporting to protect them. Finding money to be speech in our mendacious system is to assure than the liberties of some few will be preferred to those of others, as is finding that corporations runs by those with certain beliefs will be free to do things other corporations cannot.
Regardless, it can't be denied he was a formidable judge. We may prefer to see other judges on the Supreme Court for various reasons. It was sad that Learned Hand never became one of the Supremes. But we have seen worse on the High Court.
Judges are themselves responsible for the politicalization of their courts when they openly pledge allegiance to particular political or social positions. Justice Scalia, unfortunately, did so repeatedly and loudly off and sometimes on the bench, and as a consequence there is a tendency to focus, on his death, on his status as a conservative in a court increasingly divided in politics as is the nation itself. As our politics are increasingly mean-spirited, contentious and vulgar, so is our assessment of those who make themselves political figures, judges included.
I think Justice Scalia was very much an activist judge. But as a conservative activist judge he wasn't subject to the condemnation of other judges who were activists in liberal causes. Activist judges were once considered to be liberals almost by definition, but that time has passed. It's doubtful there ever has been or ever will be judges uninfluenced by ideology, but jurisprudence suffers when judges become overtly ideological. So, jurisprudence suffers now, as he nomination process consists of the questioning of nominees regarding their ideological positions only.
It may surprise some that Justice Scalia was a very able supporter of the rights of criminal defendants, thought flag-burning protected by the First Amendment, voted against an effort by the State of California to ban certain video games. He could be a witty and formidable champion of civil liberties. He was generally witty and clever, it seems, which can serve to relieve the ponderous nature of the law and legal opinions.
Perhaps his defense of civil liberties will be seen by some as consistent with his conservatism, but what is now and has been for some time described as conservatism in the United States has been less and less concerned with civil liberties, except those which assure the accumulation of property and money and those associated with the exceedingly broad definition of freedom of religion being used to favor certain religions. Nonetheless, his opinions in favor of civil liberties are what I think most important in his legacy. It seems to me that his conservatism became more like the restrictive, exclusive conservatism of American politics towards the end, though, and that is unfortunate.
He will be remembered as a jurist perhaps primarily for his championship of the somewhat bewildering doctrine of originalism. Originalism provides that judges in ruling on constitutional issues must divine the intent of those who prepared and adopted the Constitution. Ascertaining the intent of those 18th century lawyers and gentlemen is no easy task, however, and like scripture their writings may be used to support various positions. Then there is the undeniable fact that things have changed significantly since 1787, and it seems imprudent to assume that the Constitution should be deemed to reflect only the values and thoughts of those particular men of 229 years ago who would be dumbfounded by much of the world we now live in. It would seem to give little credit to the intelligence of those men to maintain that they would feel and think now just as they did then in light of all that has taken place in more than two centuries.
Perhaps he favored what he believed were 18th century values regardless of the fact that they would be those typically held by those then living and those who drafted and adopted the Constitution. That would explain his decisions which were in opposition to civil liberties as I would define them. His defense of laws against sodomy was disturbing, as it was premised on the position that states should be free to determine what is or is not acceptable conduct. More disturbing to me, however, were the decisions in Citizens United and the dreadful Hobby Lobby case. There it seems to me that he abandoned the defense of civil liberties while purporting to protect them. Finding money to be speech in our mendacious system is to assure than the liberties of some few will be preferred to those of others, as is finding that corporations runs by those with certain beliefs will be free to do things other corporations cannot.
Regardless, it can't be denied he was a formidable judge. We may prefer to see other judges on the Supreme Court for various reasons. It was sad that Learned Hand never became one of the Supremes. But we have seen worse on the High Court.
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
The Unbearable Triteness of "Being"
One finds the word "ontology" referred to quite frequently. So frequently, in fact, and in such varied and disparate ways, that poor wanderers through the vast halls of intellectual history such as your charming and delightful old Uncle Ciceronianus find it hard to determine just what it is, and indeed whether it is anything at all.
Ontology you must understand is no longer the concern merely of philosophers, which would of course make it of no concern to most. The word, at least, is thrown about in discussions of all kinds, as carelessly as one might throw a Nerf Ball, secure in the knowledge that nothing of significance will result or subject one to blame.
If we gather our strength enough to consult a dictionary, we'll find that "ontology" is said to be a branch of metaphysics concerned with the nature or relations of being, or a theory regarding the nature of being or the kinds of things that have existence. If you're anything like me, this definition raises all kinds of questions, but none which have to do with the apparent subject matter of ontology. Instead, those questions would involve whether anybody actually devotes time to the study of ontology, and if so why they do.
If the nature of being refers to the nature of existence, we all seem to have some idea of the fact that we exist, and may even be said to know we exist. No great effort is involved in arriving at these conclusions. We may indulge in faux doubt as did Descartes, but that is futile and tiresome. We may indulge in the same kind of doubt as to the existence of other people and things if we really want, but nobody does that sort of thing in fact, i.e. we do what we need to do to live and living involves interaction with other things and people; if conduct is any kind of guide to what we in fact think, it's silly to maintain we think they don't exist.
Are there (still) people who seriously wonder whether they exist, or whether other creatures or things exist? Perhaps there are, but if so I question whether there are enough of them to make "ontology" the kind of buzz word it seems to be. Are there people who seriously ponder what it is for them or other creatures or things to exist? It's likely there are more of such folk than there are those who seriously wonder whether they or others exist, but think that if they ponder this "question" in the abstract, without addressing it in a particular context or set of circumstances, their habitat is the university, i.e. the academy.
What it means for us to exist, or for other things to exist, may be something which presents questions which actually require or may result in answers in certain circumstances. We may have reason to describe what is taking place and what we do in interacting with other things and people, which may be said, speaking rather awkwardly and in a contrived fashion, to relate to the nature of our/their existence or being. Even then their being/existence isn't an issue. But to refer to being as an attribute of all things and define just what that attribute is as to all things and in isolation (without addressing a particular situation) clearly isn't something we do or would seem to have reason to do in ordinary circumstances. Nor does it seem there is any reason to inquire what it is for anything to be, though it may be something we do when drunk or high or in a philosophy class.
We say something exists, has being, when it's present in time and space. We consider or recognize the characteristics of what is present in time and space when we interact with it, which we may do for various reasons, or when we encounter it, interact with it. Sometimes we do that for a reason or for a particular purpose, sometimes we don't (we may, for example, bump into something accidently). But existence isn't an issue unless whether something exists is unknown and it's important in some manner to know if it does or does not. Ontology won't answer this question, however. I don't think it's intended to answer it.
We may, if we really want to, engage in the study of what it is for anything to exist, unconnected with any circumstance or context, what "being" is, but in doing so I don't think we can do more than say, e.g., that it must have substance, be part of the universe, not be something which only one person can see, touch, etc.; in other words, we would only come to conclusions which are obvious and trivial, which achieve nothing.
So I think that what is referred to as ontology or ontological so often these days has nothing to do with "being." The existence of something or some person isn't being studied or analyzed, in and of itself. That existence, or being, is taken for granted. What we are doing in fact is ascertaining the characteristics of something we know has being, determining how we should or can interact with it, generally for a particular purpose. Our concerns may be practical, scientific, instrumental, economic, religious or otherwise, but our concern is not being, not our being or that of any other thing or creature. Instead, we accept being and concern ourselves with the consequences of being.
Why we choose to call this ontology, or describe it as the study of being, I can't say. I'm reasonably certain, though, that we gain nothing by doing so, and have concerns that in doing so we merely render obscure matters which may usefully be considered if only we refrain from indulging in what Dewey liked to call "The Philosophical Fallacy"; roughly speaking, the neglect of context.
Ontology you must understand is no longer the concern merely of philosophers, which would of course make it of no concern to most. The word, at least, is thrown about in discussions of all kinds, as carelessly as one might throw a Nerf Ball, secure in the knowledge that nothing of significance will result or subject one to blame.
If we gather our strength enough to consult a dictionary, we'll find that "ontology" is said to be a branch of metaphysics concerned with the nature or relations of being, or a theory regarding the nature of being or the kinds of things that have existence. If you're anything like me, this definition raises all kinds of questions, but none which have to do with the apparent subject matter of ontology. Instead, those questions would involve whether anybody actually devotes time to the study of ontology, and if so why they do.
If the nature of being refers to the nature of existence, we all seem to have some idea of the fact that we exist, and may even be said to know we exist. No great effort is involved in arriving at these conclusions. We may indulge in faux doubt as did Descartes, but that is futile and tiresome. We may indulge in the same kind of doubt as to the existence of other people and things if we really want, but nobody does that sort of thing in fact, i.e. we do what we need to do to live and living involves interaction with other things and people; if conduct is any kind of guide to what we in fact think, it's silly to maintain we think they don't exist.
Are there (still) people who seriously wonder whether they exist, or whether other creatures or things exist? Perhaps there are, but if so I question whether there are enough of them to make "ontology" the kind of buzz word it seems to be. Are there people who seriously ponder what it is for them or other creatures or things to exist? It's likely there are more of such folk than there are those who seriously wonder whether they or others exist, but think that if they ponder this "question" in the abstract, without addressing it in a particular context or set of circumstances, their habitat is the university, i.e. the academy.
What it means for us to exist, or for other things to exist, may be something which presents questions which actually require or may result in answers in certain circumstances. We may have reason to describe what is taking place and what we do in interacting with other things and people, which may be said, speaking rather awkwardly and in a contrived fashion, to relate to the nature of our/their existence or being. Even then their being/existence isn't an issue. But to refer to being as an attribute of all things and define just what that attribute is as to all things and in isolation (without addressing a particular situation) clearly isn't something we do or would seem to have reason to do in ordinary circumstances. Nor does it seem there is any reason to inquire what it is for anything to be, though it may be something we do when drunk or high or in a philosophy class.
We say something exists, has being, when it's present in time and space. We consider or recognize the characteristics of what is present in time and space when we interact with it, which we may do for various reasons, or when we encounter it, interact with it. Sometimes we do that for a reason or for a particular purpose, sometimes we don't (we may, for example, bump into something accidently). But existence isn't an issue unless whether something exists is unknown and it's important in some manner to know if it does or does not. Ontology won't answer this question, however. I don't think it's intended to answer it.
We may, if we really want to, engage in the study of what it is for anything to exist, unconnected with any circumstance or context, what "being" is, but in doing so I don't think we can do more than say, e.g., that it must have substance, be part of the universe, not be something which only one person can see, touch, etc.; in other words, we would only come to conclusions which are obvious and trivial, which achieve nothing.
So I think that what is referred to as ontology or ontological so often these days has nothing to do with "being." The existence of something or some person isn't being studied or analyzed, in and of itself. That existence, or being, is taken for granted. What we are doing in fact is ascertaining the characteristics of something we know has being, determining how we should or can interact with it, generally for a particular purpose. Our concerns may be practical, scientific, instrumental, economic, religious or otherwise, but our concern is not being, not our being or that of any other thing or creature. Instead, we accept being and concern ourselves with the consequences of being.
Why we choose to call this ontology, or describe it as the study of being, I can't say. I'm reasonably certain, though, that we gain nothing by doing so, and have concerns that in doing so we merely render obscure matters which may usefully be considered if only we refrain from indulging in what Dewey liked to call "The Philosophical Fallacy"; roughly speaking, the neglect of context.
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