Or, perhaps, Why I Continue not to be a Philosopher. Then again, something like Why I Most Definitely am not a Philosopher, or Why I Certainly am not a Philosopher, or Why I'm no Philosopher or Why I Cannot be a Philosopher would serve as titles, as well, to this no doubt less than interesting because highly personal post.
I posted about this in the past, you see, and that should serve as an explanation of the words "still" and "continue not to be" if nothing else. In that post, I speculated that a lack of patience and a stubborn disposition against matters which seem to have no immediate application to "ordinary day-to-day life" might be causes of my failings (at least that's what I recall of the post; I'm not going to read it again because, of course, I lack the patience to do so).
Now, however, I think there is more involved, in addition to my impatience and what I suppose a real philosopher would refer to as my naive views regarding some basic metaphysical questions. I simply cannot deal with the kind of concepts philosophers apparently address on a regular basis. This has become clear to me due to my return, after an absence, to a philosophy forum I've spent a significant amount of time in, which has resulted in a renewed determination to depart from it yet again this time, I hope (and suspect others hope as well) never to return.
"Deal with" covers quite a bit of ground, in my case. It can mean something as simple as reading, to a certain extent. People start using words like "being" and "essence" and "the self" and "becoming" and "protention" and something inside me seems to scream "Stop! Stop reading this! Now!" Such words seem to not exactly frighten me, but to revolt me. Reading them for me is like eating something I strongly dislike and have no need to eat. One simply stops eating in that case, if one has any sense, makes a polite excuse and departs for home or perhaps the restroom.
Expressing strong dislike simply angers those who enjoy the food or concepts in question. It may be said that in the one case matters of taste are involved, regarding which there can be no dispute, but in the case of philosophical concepts there can be and perhaps even should be dispute aplenty. That may be so, though I feel taste does figure in a person's like or dislike for certain philosophy and philosophers. But if it is so, it has become clear to me that I can't usefully participate in such disputes. Life, I have found, is far too short to subject myself to the recriminations which result, for all I know justifiably. I may be unable to comprehend such things, though I continue to suspect that those who can could, if pressed, communicate their thoughts regarding them in language a dullard like me would be able to understand, and even to suspect that if they did so nothing very remarkable would be made apparent. Regardless, it's not for me.
I will continue to read those philosophers I can understand, albeit dimly. I may even discuss them and their thoughts in this blog, for my own edification if not for that of others. But I hope to otherwise stay off the wagon, as it were. We shall see.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Time Out of Mind
According to Cicero, "there is nothing so absurd but some philosopher has said it." I'm not sure just what it was that prompted this comment. I like to think that there are limits to absurdity, or at least limits to the deliberate promulgation of absurdities as fact, but I confess I'm given to wonder now and then.
Consider, though: there are, or apparently were, philosophers who are or were unconvinced of the existence of an "external world" independent from our minds (dealt with in prior posts) or perhaps more properly that its existence cannot not be demonstrated to their (and therefore appropriate) satisfaction, and that mind and body are in some sense separate, and that Forms of absolute, perfect reality exist regarding which that which we experience is but a poor facsimile, and that we can't know just what "things in themselves" (like, for example, the computer on which I'm typing at this moment) really are; so, perhaps Cicero was right.
I'm doing some reading at the moment regarding the question whether the past is real. Some philosophers feel it isn't. Some, unsurprisingly, think it is. Most of us common folk, I think, would maintain that it was, but is not now. Most of us would probably assert that in the past, Roman legions marched around Europe, dinosaurs walked the earth, galleys manned by slaves were used for ocean transport. However, that is no longer the case. So, Roman legions, dinosaurs and such galleys certainly were real, but as they no longer exist, they can't be said to be real now.
A philosopher may be inclined to say, however, that we have no business referring to the past as real in any sense if it no longer exists, or that we can't state anything regarding what happened in the past, past events, past people, without purporting to come to conclusions regarding that which does not exist, which we cannot do legitimately. How can we rely on our memories, or even records of the past? There is no way to verify them, properly.
Some might question this kind of view, though. There is now evidence that certain animals existed which no longer exist. There are buildings we see which must somehow have come into existence, unless we're satisfied in thinking that they suddenly appear at the time we first encounter them. There are people we knew who are no longer present. Isn't it reasonable to infer from such evidence that there was or were some animals, things, people but now there are not?
Time is I think a particularly difficult subject for philosophers to analyze and explicate now, because physics has significantly preempted the field, or at least complicated it. In the realm of physics, there be dragons I certainly cannot slay, in any event. Physics may eventually ascertain that the past continues to exist in some sense, or can be retrieved, or perhaps indicate that there is a possibility of time travel to the past (if it has not already done so). However, until that occurs, just what can be said about the past? What is it?
In answering that question, I'd be inclined to apply some variant of Peirce's pragmatic maxim (he formulated several versions of it). This would entail defining it by reference to its practical consequences. The past is something that we recall, sometimes with pleasure, sometimes sadly. It thereby and in other ways can effect us and our dispositions and our lives. It can be used as a reference. We can make decisions regarding what is transpiring now based on what has taken place in the past. The world we interact it was in many respects shaped by the past; is a result of the past, and knowing the past can help us understand the world, ourselves and our fellow participants in the world.
The past is clearly something we think about, and something that influences us and how we live and act now. In that sense, it is clearly real now, i.e. it is a part of our world, our reality. Isn't that sufficient for our purposes? Why could or should it be "real" in some other sense? In what way does it matter whether if is "real" in some other sense (again, given the extent of our abilities and knowledge in the realm of physics at this time)?
No doubt I'm just demonstrating yet again why it is I'm not a philosopher; but once more I wonder why it is we devote ourselves to questions the answers to which, and problems the resolution of which, seemingly will make no difference to how we live, and what we do.
Consider, though: there are, or apparently were, philosophers who are or were unconvinced of the existence of an "external world" independent from our minds (dealt with in prior posts) or perhaps more properly that its existence cannot not be demonstrated to their (and therefore appropriate) satisfaction, and that mind and body are in some sense separate, and that Forms of absolute, perfect reality exist regarding which that which we experience is but a poor facsimile, and that we can't know just what "things in themselves" (like, for example, the computer on which I'm typing at this moment) really are; so, perhaps Cicero was right.
I'm doing some reading at the moment regarding the question whether the past is real. Some philosophers feel it isn't. Some, unsurprisingly, think it is. Most of us common folk, I think, would maintain that it was, but is not now. Most of us would probably assert that in the past, Roman legions marched around Europe, dinosaurs walked the earth, galleys manned by slaves were used for ocean transport. However, that is no longer the case. So, Roman legions, dinosaurs and such galleys certainly were real, but as they no longer exist, they can't be said to be real now.
A philosopher may be inclined to say, however, that we have no business referring to the past as real in any sense if it no longer exists, or that we can't state anything regarding what happened in the past, past events, past people, without purporting to come to conclusions regarding that which does not exist, which we cannot do legitimately. How can we rely on our memories, or even records of the past? There is no way to verify them, properly.
Some might question this kind of view, though. There is now evidence that certain animals existed which no longer exist. There are buildings we see which must somehow have come into existence, unless we're satisfied in thinking that they suddenly appear at the time we first encounter them. There are people we knew who are no longer present. Isn't it reasonable to infer from such evidence that there was or were some animals, things, people but now there are not?
Time is I think a particularly difficult subject for philosophers to analyze and explicate now, because physics has significantly preempted the field, or at least complicated it. In the realm of physics, there be dragons I certainly cannot slay, in any event. Physics may eventually ascertain that the past continues to exist in some sense, or can be retrieved, or perhaps indicate that there is a possibility of time travel to the past (if it has not already done so). However, until that occurs, just what can be said about the past? What is it?
In answering that question, I'd be inclined to apply some variant of Peirce's pragmatic maxim (he formulated several versions of it). This would entail defining it by reference to its practical consequences. The past is something that we recall, sometimes with pleasure, sometimes sadly. It thereby and in other ways can effect us and our dispositions and our lives. It can be used as a reference. We can make decisions regarding what is transpiring now based on what has taken place in the past. The world we interact it was in many respects shaped by the past; is a result of the past, and knowing the past can help us understand the world, ourselves and our fellow participants in the world.
The past is clearly something we think about, and something that influences us and how we live and act now. In that sense, it is clearly real now, i.e. it is a part of our world, our reality. Isn't that sufficient for our purposes? Why could or should it be "real" in some other sense? In what way does it matter whether if is "real" in some other sense (again, given the extent of our abilities and knowledge in the realm of physics at this time)?
No doubt I'm just demonstrating yet again why it is I'm not a philosopher; but once more I wonder why it is we devote ourselves to questions the answers to which, and problems the resolution of which, seemingly will make no difference to how we live, and what we do.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Dis Manibus Sacrum
These words appeared on Roman tombstones, even into the Christian era. Sometimes, only the words "Dis Manibus" were used, sometimes only the initials, D M (the Romans were partial to abbreviations, particularly when it came to the strenuous and no doubt expensive business of putting letters on stone or marble). To the spirits of the dead. We come to another Memorial Day.
It is a day on which we are to remember those who have died, especially those who have died while members of, or who are or have served in, the armed forces. Instead, some of us spend the day golfing (as did your humble writer of posts on this blog) or in parades or seeing relatives; it is after all a holiday. There are memorials I should visit and would like to visit, regardless of their service. My grandparents are buried near the graves of Al Capone and Frank Nitti and among others who were of Italian descent and were in Chicago when they died. Many of my parents' generation served in the armed forces; some dead, some yet to die.
I did not. I turned 18 during the Vietnam War, and duly registered for the draft but was not drafted. I came of draft age during the latter part of that war, and less and less of us were being selected. I went to college and so no doubt was subject to deferments. I think I would have served if drafted.
In the increasingly distant days of my youth, those who served were not honored as they should have been. Now it seems they are, but because we feel (those of the Vietnam era especially, perhaps) we have not done so as appropriate in the past, we may be said to overdo it, strange as that may seem. That is due to the the seemingly constant use of the word "heroes." This devalues the word. When everyone is a hero, there are few heroes, properly speaking. It has become a kind of cant, unfortunately. There is something disturbing about the constant reference to anyone who wears a uniform as being a hero, even something insincere, perhaps even patronizing. We have become like Uriah Heep, but instead of being perpetually humble we perpetually tout our many heroes.
That those who serve do something honorable is clear. That they put themselves in harm's way when in combat is apparent. So we should honor them, but I don't think we do so when we call all of them heroes, as a matter of course.
Honoring the dead is an odd business. They're beyond our ceremonies. Nonetheless we give them honor and have done so apparently throughout our history. It is one of our peculiarities. Creatures are deemed human when they begin to do this for, or to, their dead. It is a cliche that our ceremonies for the dead are in fact for the living, but in the past there was a real concern that the dead would not take a lack of respect kindly, and would make this known.
Honoring the dead is just something that we do. I wonder if we do so merely as a custom derived from an ancient fear. I think, though, that we believe it to be something that should be done. A sense of duty is involved. It's one of those "shoulds" which raise questions regarding duty, regarding the role of ethics and morality in our lives. I'm surprised I know of no philosopher who has done so, but think there must be one who has or does. It may be similar to altruism, as we can expect no benefit from the dead, beyond the fact that they will, if placated and given their customary honors, not cause us concern. Somehow, though, they always seem to do just that.
P.S. I see someone named Chris Hayes of MSNBC has got himself into trouble for expressing discomfort with the use of the word "hero." His error, I think, was to question its use to describe fallen soldiers (instead of to anyone who has ever worn a uniform), but more importantly to speculate that the use of the word may be used to glorify war and is being used to justify "more war." I think not. The days when we sought war in order to die a heroic death are over for most of us, and I doubt those who seek to justify war, to the extent they exist, mean to do so by urging us to die in one.
It is a day on which we are to remember those who have died, especially those who have died while members of, or who are or have served in, the armed forces. Instead, some of us spend the day golfing (as did your humble writer of posts on this blog) or in parades or seeing relatives; it is after all a holiday. There are memorials I should visit and would like to visit, regardless of their service. My grandparents are buried near the graves of Al Capone and Frank Nitti and among others who were of Italian descent and were in Chicago when they died. Many of my parents' generation served in the armed forces; some dead, some yet to die.
I did not. I turned 18 during the Vietnam War, and duly registered for the draft but was not drafted. I came of draft age during the latter part of that war, and less and less of us were being selected. I went to college and so no doubt was subject to deferments. I think I would have served if drafted.
In the increasingly distant days of my youth, those who served were not honored as they should have been. Now it seems they are, but because we feel (those of the Vietnam era especially, perhaps) we have not done so as appropriate in the past, we may be said to overdo it, strange as that may seem. That is due to the the seemingly constant use of the word "heroes." This devalues the word. When everyone is a hero, there are few heroes, properly speaking. It has become a kind of cant, unfortunately. There is something disturbing about the constant reference to anyone who wears a uniform as being a hero, even something insincere, perhaps even patronizing. We have become like Uriah Heep, but instead of being perpetually humble we perpetually tout our many heroes.
That those who serve do something honorable is clear. That they put themselves in harm's way when in combat is apparent. So we should honor them, but I don't think we do so when we call all of them heroes, as a matter of course.
Honoring the dead is an odd business. They're beyond our ceremonies. Nonetheless we give them honor and have done so apparently throughout our history. It is one of our peculiarities. Creatures are deemed human when they begin to do this for, or to, their dead. It is a cliche that our ceremonies for the dead are in fact for the living, but in the past there was a real concern that the dead would not take a lack of respect kindly, and would make this known.
Honoring the dead is just something that we do. I wonder if we do so merely as a custom derived from an ancient fear. I think, though, that we believe it to be something that should be done. A sense of duty is involved. It's one of those "shoulds" which raise questions regarding duty, regarding the role of ethics and morality in our lives. I'm surprised I know of no philosopher who has done so, but think there must be one who has or does. It may be similar to altruism, as we can expect no benefit from the dead, beyond the fact that they will, if placated and given their customary honors, not cause us concern. Somehow, though, they always seem to do just that.
P.S. I see someone named Chris Hayes of MSNBC has got himself into trouble for expressing discomfort with the use of the word "hero." His error, I think, was to question its use to describe fallen soldiers (instead of to anyone who has ever worn a uniform), but more importantly to speculate that the use of the word may be used to glorify war and is being used to justify "more war." I think not. The days when we sought war in order to die a heroic death are over for most of us, and I doubt those who seek to justify war, to the extent they exist, mean to do so by urging us to die in one.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Pennies from Heaven
I tend to read a fair amount, and being somewhat eclectic in my reading (at least when it comes to politics) I sometimes read National Review just as I sometimes read The New Republic, and sometimes Reason and sometimes The Nation. I came across an article in National Review which attempted to make the interesting point that conservatives would be well advised to tout capitalism for moral reasons as well as, or perhaps even more so than, for reasons related to its purported efficiency as a tool for creation of wealth. The author noted that the Right is at a disadvantage because the Left typically attacks capitalism on moral grounds but the Right fails to defend it from such attacks. Appeals to morals are generally more persuasive than appeals to efficiency is, essentially, the argument made. Therefore, the Left is winning the ideological battle , because it positions itself on the moral high ground and the Right makes no effort to take it.
Just what, though, is compellingly moral about capitalism? Well, it can be said that it is founded on the idea that we should all have the benefits of our own labor, and on the idea that those who work harder and more efficiently are entitled to more than those who don't, and on the idea that those who demand benefits while not inclined to work for them shouldn't receive those benefits, particularly to the disadvantage of others. It can be maintained, then, that capitalism's moral basis is its appeal to and incorporation of the concept of fairness.
There is a certain danger in this approach, though, if it is used to justify the great accumulation of wealth by some in light of the poverty of others. Even those of the Right must recognize that it is at least conceivable that some are poor not due to their own laziness but for other reasons and that many of the wealthy have far more than they could possibly need to live comfortably. Is it fair that some have such wealth while others do not? What use is such wealth, unless one is interested in living a life of unmitigated self-indulgence? Does the fact that the extremely wealthy worked for their wealth (if that is the case) justify their retention of that wealth for no reason but for the fact it is their wealth?
The call for the moral justification of capitalism is presumably prompted by the hue and cry over taxing the rich more than others (said to be unfair, or class warfare), and fears that our President and his cohorts are determined to socialize the United States and redistribute wealth. But the Right has a difficult task in front of it in this respect, as it is difficult, very difficult sometimes, to sympathize with the "plight" of the wealthy.
For someone like me, who has concerns regarding government regulation of our lives, the idea of the government stepping in to assure that all is right and well is frightening. The belief that government should do this goes back at least to Plato, a kind of archetypal anti-democrat. He was rather fond of analogies, and one of them was that of the ship; the ship of state. We wouldn't trust a novice to sail a ship, we would want an expert captain to do so. Only such a captain would have the knowledge to guide the ship safely to its destination. We need an expert to captain the ship of state. We wouldn't want the passengers to do so, would we?
The problem is that in Plato's system, and I fear in the case of any government which considers itself to be the best judge of what is good for its citizens, the captain of the ship not only sails the ship, the captain determines where it is to go as well. Normally, of course, if we charter a ship we wouldn't presume to operate it, but we would expect it to go where we want it to go, not where the captain and crew think we should go.
I think that if the Right wants to make a moral case for capitalism, it will have to proceed cautiously, especially as to claims of fairness. The Right must resign itself to the fact that there is nothing admirable about the accumulation of great wealth, i.e. wealth beyond that needed for someone to live comfortably and assure that those one loves may do so as well. The claim sometimes made by the defenders of the wealthy that they "create jobs" will not play well, and it is questionable that most of them do this unless they invest that wealth, which would seem to require that they part with it. In these times especially, we can't rely on pennies falling from their pockets like those once dreamed to be falling from heaven.
For one who professes to be a Stoic, the accumulation of wealth would seem to be the accumulation of things which are indifferent, to which we should be indifferent. It would seem to lessen the chance of attaining wisdom and serenity, and increase the chance of corruption of mind and body. This is of course the great problem Seneca had in claiming to be a Stoic. Someone who tries to be a Stoic in these times walks on an edge, like many others do. The accumulation of wealth, and the wealthy, are not admirable, but for government to take their property or restrict their liberty is not admirable either. How, then, should we proceed?
Just what, though, is compellingly moral about capitalism? Well, it can be said that it is founded on the idea that we should all have the benefits of our own labor, and on the idea that those who work harder and more efficiently are entitled to more than those who don't, and on the idea that those who demand benefits while not inclined to work for them shouldn't receive those benefits, particularly to the disadvantage of others. It can be maintained, then, that capitalism's moral basis is its appeal to and incorporation of the concept of fairness.
There is a certain danger in this approach, though, if it is used to justify the great accumulation of wealth by some in light of the poverty of others. Even those of the Right must recognize that it is at least conceivable that some are poor not due to their own laziness but for other reasons and that many of the wealthy have far more than they could possibly need to live comfortably. Is it fair that some have such wealth while others do not? What use is such wealth, unless one is interested in living a life of unmitigated self-indulgence? Does the fact that the extremely wealthy worked for their wealth (if that is the case) justify their retention of that wealth for no reason but for the fact it is their wealth?
The call for the moral justification of capitalism is presumably prompted by the hue and cry over taxing the rich more than others (said to be unfair, or class warfare), and fears that our President and his cohorts are determined to socialize the United States and redistribute wealth. But the Right has a difficult task in front of it in this respect, as it is difficult, very difficult sometimes, to sympathize with the "plight" of the wealthy.
For someone like me, who has concerns regarding government regulation of our lives, the idea of the government stepping in to assure that all is right and well is frightening. The belief that government should do this goes back at least to Plato, a kind of archetypal anti-democrat. He was rather fond of analogies, and one of them was that of the ship; the ship of state. We wouldn't trust a novice to sail a ship, we would want an expert captain to do so. Only such a captain would have the knowledge to guide the ship safely to its destination. We need an expert to captain the ship of state. We wouldn't want the passengers to do so, would we?
The problem is that in Plato's system, and I fear in the case of any government which considers itself to be the best judge of what is good for its citizens, the captain of the ship not only sails the ship, the captain determines where it is to go as well. Normally, of course, if we charter a ship we wouldn't presume to operate it, but we would expect it to go where we want it to go, not where the captain and crew think we should go.
I think that if the Right wants to make a moral case for capitalism, it will have to proceed cautiously, especially as to claims of fairness. The Right must resign itself to the fact that there is nothing admirable about the accumulation of great wealth, i.e. wealth beyond that needed for someone to live comfortably and assure that those one loves may do so as well. The claim sometimes made by the defenders of the wealthy that they "create jobs" will not play well, and it is questionable that most of them do this unless they invest that wealth, which would seem to require that they part with it. In these times especially, we can't rely on pennies falling from their pockets like those once dreamed to be falling from heaven.
For one who professes to be a Stoic, the accumulation of wealth would seem to be the accumulation of things which are indifferent, to which we should be indifferent. It would seem to lessen the chance of attaining wisdom and serenity, and increase the chance of corruption of mind and body. This is of course the great problem Seneca had in claiming to be a Stoic. Someone who tries to be a Stoic in these times walks on an edge, like many others do. The accumulation of wealth, and the wealthy, are not admirable, but for government to take their property or restrict their liberty is not admirable either. How, then, should we proceed?
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Love and Marriage
They go together like a horse and carriage, as we know. And if a horse and carriage is like a marriage, why not gay marriage?
I'm being silly, of course. But as our President has caused the issue to raise its head again, as it were, I feel given to expound on it. He is an able politician; he says that he is in favor of it but thinks the states should decide whether or not it should be legal. The best of both worlds in the political universe, it would seem.
I heard on the radio recently the argument that gay marriage should be allowed as it involves the pursuit of happiness, one of the "inalienable" rights identified in the Declaration of Independence of our Glorious Republic. The drafters of that remarkable document, being lawyers, were careful not to state that happiness itself is a right. If one considers our society litigious now, just imagine what it would be like if we could sue for being deprived of happiness.
So, we have only the right to pursue happiness, it seems. If a gay person wants to pursue happiness by marriage, should not he/she have a right to do so?
Well, the pursuit of happiness is subject to some limitations. One can't pursue it through fraud, for example, or criminal conduct. Not quite the same thing, though, I hope all would agree. But the law also imposes restrictions on conduct in other circumstances, purportedly for the public health and welfare.
No doubt those who oppose gay marriage would claim that it is detrimental to the public health and welfare in some manner. It's hard to imagine, though, how it would be any more detrimental than marriage is now. The contentions being made regarding the "sanctity" of marriage are laughable. It should be obvious that marriage is not, at least in the law, a sacred or holy relationship, nor should it be. It should also be obvious that it is not treated as such by most of us, or is at most treated as a sacred and holy relationship which may be revoked at will and is revoked by many in fact; in other words, not very sacred and holy at all.
I've voiced the opinion in this blog and elsewhere that it would be useful if the word "marriage" was not used in the law, i.e. that all marriages be considered "civil unions" or "domestic partnerships" or something along those lines. That would only make sense, as for purposes of the law they are nothing more than partnerships of a special kind, which operate and are construed as business partnerships in most ways. This would it is to be hoped release us from claims being made that marriage has some kind of unique status, which cannot be sullied in any fashion. Claims made in the context of the law, that is to say. Religions may treat them as holy as they like. However, what they do would and should make no difference to the law. Whatever penalties or prohibitions a religion may impose as to marriage may be imposed, provided that they are not relevant to legal status, rights and responsibilities.
But I daresay someone would claim that this is caving in to bigotry, or that marriage does, indeed, have a special status in the law, as some federal judges have held, which renders it in a manner I find bewildering different from civil unions in the law, and that this special status should be made open to all.
Words do indeed have power. But sometimes they are accorded too much power over us.
I'm being silly, of course. But as our President has caused the issue to raise its head again, as it were, I feel given to expound on it. He is an able politician; he says that he is in favor of it but thinks the states should decide whether or not it should be legal. The best of both worlds in the political universe, it would seem.
I heard on the radio recently the argument that gay marriage should be allowed as it involves the pursuit of happiness, one of the "inalienable" rights identified in the Declaration of Independence of our Glorious Republic. The drafters of that remarkable document, being lawyers, were careful not to state that happiness itself is a right. If one considers our society litigious now, just imagine what it would be like if we could sue for being deprived of happiness.
So, we have only the right to pursue happiness, it seems. If a gay person wants to pursue happiness by marriage, should not he/she have a right to do so?
Well, the pursuit of happiness is subject to some limitations. One can't pursue it through fraud, for example, or criminal conduct. Not quite the same thing, though, I hope all would agree. But the law also imposes restrictions on conduct in other circumstances, purportedly for the public health and welfare.
No doubt those who oppose gay marriage would claim that it is detrimental to the public health and welfare in some manner. It's hard to imagine, though, how it would be any more detrimental than marriage is now. The contentions being made regarding the "sanctity" of marriage are laughable. It should be obvious that marriage is not, at least in the law, a sacred or holy relationship, nor should it be. It should also be obvious that it is not treated as such by most of us, or is at most treated as a sacred and holy relationship which may be revoked at will and is revoked by many in fact; in other words, not very sacred and holy at all.
I've voiced the opinion in this blog and elsewhere that it would be useful if the word "marriage" was not used in the law, i.e. that all marriages be considered "civil unions" or "domestic partnerships" or something along those lines. That would only make sense, as for purposes of the law they are nothing more than partnerships of a special kind, which operate and are construed as business partnerships in most ways. This would it is to be hoped release us from claims being made that marriage has some kind of unique status, which cannot be sullied in any fashion. Claims made in the context of the law, that is to say. Religions may treat them as holy as they like. However, what they do would and should make no difference to the law. Whatever penalties or prohibitions a religion may impose as to marriage may be imposed, provided that they are not relevant to legal status, rights and responsibilities.
But I daresay someone would claim that this is caving in to bigotry, or that marriage does, indeed, have a special status in the law, as some federal judges have held, which renders it in a manner I find bewildering different from civil unions in the law, and that this special status should be made open to all.
Words do indeed have power. But sometimes they are accorded too much power over us.
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