Posts Tagged ‘Philosophy’

As Is

October 10, 2009

I started this post months ago, and never quite got it right.  So it’s being posted as is. Enjoy!

As The Alder Fork continues to grow and evolve my focus adapts to incorporate new elements.  I hope my writing continues to explore many exciting avenues, and although I don’t know which aspects of this blog will remain in the future, I do hope that I can stay fresh.  Lately, in the podcast, blog and my private writing, I have been reintroducing myself to the philosophy of religion.  In particular, I have been interested in large, cross-religion ideas like dialogue, definitions, and conceptualizations of the afterlife and other religious imagery.  Has this move helped the popularity of my work? Actually no, in fact it might even be driving people away.  I am not concerned about that because The Alder Fork is primarily an outlet for my creativity and ideas, rather than a promotional device (though it can do both).

I recently read someone’s opinion that atheism should not be called a religion because it is exactly the opposite of that.  This argument swept my mind back to the endless discussion of how to define religion that I encountered as an undergrad. Indeed, one of the core questions of religious studies is how do we define the thing we study? What are the parameters for saying something is a religion, religious or spiritual?  Is it really a “I know it when I see it” kind of thing, or can we put limits on what falls inside our focus?  If we cast our net to narrowly we may leave out some obvious religious groups. For example, if we say a religion is a group of people who believe in God, we leave out those who do not believe in God, like buddhists. If we cast too wide a net we risk including organizations that are clearly not religious in any manner.  This brings me back to the question about whether atheism is itself a religious movement.  If you require that a belief in supernatural existence is a requirement of a religion then perhaps atheism is on the outside, although I don’t know that all atheists completely reject the possibility of supernatural activity, say ghosts for example.  But if we take atheism in a strict definition as those who do not believe there is a god or gods, or that there is a supernatural order to the universe, can we then say they are not a religion?

Atheists define their beliefs in relation to religion.  Without theists there would be no need for a category called atheists.  This is important because it shows the roots of the atheist’s objection to being called a religion.  For them the very notion of religion is almost an insult, though that language may be a bit harsh.  With that in mind it is tempting to say that atheism is more philosophy than religion, and that it only relates to the latter as a contradiction.  For a moment I would like to flip this idea on its head and say that because atheism exists as a contradiction it is more religion than philosophy.  Returning to the question of how we define religion (and I will likely write a whole entry on this) I have always been in favour of being more inclusive.  I don’t think religious activity is limited to those who understand themselves in supernatural terms exclusively.  We all have to accept that there are elements of the universe beyond our current understanding and then decide what we believe is the truth behind that unknown layer.  Some people believe there is nothing there, outside of physics problems and mysterious matter.  Others choose to see god in the cracks of human knowledge.  I am not here to make a value judgment about who is correct, but rather to say that by drawing these conclusions people have entered the realm of faith.

I realize this is a troubling statement to make but it grows out of my definition of religion.  In my view, religion begins in the individual and then expands into group behaviour and convention where it changes and flows back into the individual.  All people are religious people, even if they choose to disregard traditional human religions in favour of a rational or humanistic approach.  In the moments that we contemplate the mysteries of life, draw or adopt conclusions, and then act on those beliefs we are acting religiously.  For me religion at its core is not about ritual, creed, ethical action, social conventions or adherence to authority, it is the fundamental act of believing in a blueprint for the universe, whether ordered or not.  By having faith in ourselves, in our god, in science or math, we are being religious beings.  Religion as it is commonly understood by people refers to the big -isms in the world. Maybe we can add a few more isms to the list.

I’m On My Way From Misery To Happiness Today, Part I

August 24, 2009

You can burn down my church, but I shall be free!

Simon & Garfunkel

A Church Is Burning

Theodicy was one of my many academic wanderings as a graduate student.  It is essentially the study of the relationship between the Christian notion of God and pain/suffering/evil in the world.  Of course, it could be extended to any of religious reflection on the meaning of the negative aspects of life.  There are those who would argue that religion itself was born out of people’s need to explain pain and death in particular. It is compelling to ask why life can suddenly end, and why this type of loss is an essential part of life.

I’ve recently been re-reading Suffering by Dorothee Soelle, as well as a great deal about the Holocaust.  Needless to say, evil and suffering have been on my mind. I want to explore several ideas around the idea of suffering.  I begin with a look at whether suffering is essential to being human, from a theistic perspective.

There are many elements that define the human being.  Our general shape, cognitive awareness, behaviour, and emotional capacity are among them.  The concept of both heaven, and heaven on earth (that post judgment day/rapture idea that appears in some eschatological literature) seem to imply a changed condition for people.  This could include the physical state, such as the form of spirit or energy, as well as a psychological and emotional well-being that is not found on earth. It can then be suggested that suffering is excluded from this state of being.  After all, a heaven composed of a perfect union with God would not include pain of any form.  Thus the ideal and perfect form of human exists without suffering. This line of thinking exists in all of the religions I have studied (though not always dependent on a concept of heaven), and perhaps even fits into more secular worldviews, particularly those advocating the pursuit of science and humanitarianism.  This is likely because one element of the human condition is a desire to escape suffering, except for those more masochistic people, and even they would like to avoid intense uncontrollable suffering and human depravity.

For Christians, this question is answered in the creation account, where Adam and Eve are punished with the pains of labour for their actions in Eden.  People were created without the capacity for suffering, or more accurately there was no such thing as suffering. Heaven is an extension of this suffering-free existence. Yet so very much of life is suffering.  People experience many different types of pain. Soelle quotes Simone Weil’s three levels of suffering, physical, psychological, and social.  Virtually every day of our lives we will ourselves experience some pain, or we will witness it in another. Failing that we are aware that in the world people are suffering, and it is only a matter of time before we do again.  Although we do experience times of joy and happiness, it may not be possible to isolate those incidents to the point that a true notion of suffering free life can be imagined.

A final question can be asked, does essential humanity require suffering?  Is there such an idea as being human with suffering? It is difficult to reflect on both sides of this question because the one argument is so hypothetical.  The real answer lies in the value and role ascribed to suffering in the human experience. Is it merely an accessory to life, like breathing air, or consuming food, or is it a fundamental aspect of the emotional and psychological course of life?  Much like breathing suffering is more or less ever present in life. Our lungs, however, work mostly unnoticed throughout the day.  While we are asleep any knowledge of breathing is lost.  When we suffer, we must make a conscious effort to ignore the pain, for its presence is announced at all times.  It can prevent us from reaching sleep, and often affects our dreams. Suffering becomes an integral part of our lives whenever it occurs.  Imagining a life without it, while very attractive seems impossible.

For all these arguments there is one final point.  We do not consider suffering to be normal.  Pain, torture, illness, depression, and violence are all viewed as abnormal.  We have created entire professions to combat it, and to use it as a weapon because it is so powerful.  Very few people actively seek pain in their lives, and only the very sick, mentally ill, or in some cases devoutly religious seek death.  In some of those cases they want to die to escape overwhelming suffering.  Although it is a normal part of life, it is not an essential part of being human.  Could we live without pain? Certainly, we could.  Those who argue that suffering builds character or shows commitment to a belief system or prepares people for the harsh realities of life, would probably still trade their pain for a suffering-free life.

Who Can It Be Now?

February 19, 2009

(3) There is a tree outside my window,

Alvin Plantinga

Religious Belief As ‘Properly Basic’

As a student of religion I often encountered arguments both for and against a myriad of spiritual issues: the existence of a god, gods, or some spiritual essence, the value of organized religion, the reality of faith, among others.   Virtually every university hosts regular debates on the question of “god.” I have never attended one but I usually take the time to read any material about them, including the basic premise of the debate and the general positions of the participants.  Philosophers have managed to devise a limited number of arguments for both sides, and these are generally repeated in each and every debate.  The main problem with all arguments for and against the existence of god is very simple, no matter how we rationalize the unknowable, it remains unknowable.  We place faith in people, objects, our bodies and senses, nature, the universe, and, for some, god (or a supernaturally ordered universe). As we make progress towards better understanding our universe we still struggle to comprehend some of the most basic premises of existence.  Why do we die?  Why is suffering part of life?  Why are intelligent beings, such as ourselves, such a small part of an enormous universe? We have figured out parts of these questions, but we have yet to put it all together in a meaningful way outside the context of religious explanation, and even those often struggle to adequately address these questions.  We are regularly reminded that what we don’t know vastly outweighs what we do, and the answers aren’t coming quickly.  Outside of attempted conversion to one ideology or another what is the point of debating the supernatural?

Occasionally (though not very often) someone will ask me about my religious beliefs.  I think many just assume I have some deep conviction to a specific belief system because I studied religion.  People in my field range from the very religious to the very not.  Our common thread is an interest in the beliefs of people around the world, and a desire to probe the limits of what is known and what is thought. Much like the behavioural psychologist who studies people to see why they act the way we do, religious studies scholars concern themselves with the more than the how and what of belief, to break open the why.  For me it has always been part of a quest to be understand ultimate truth, the elusive answers to the questions I posed above.

Once, when I was an undergrad, I attempted to systematically document my own beliefs. I have long since lost that document, and it would be irrelevant now anyway.  A person who deeply considers their faith will normally fluctuate in what they believe over the course of their lives.  After all, when dealing with grand ideas, there are many possible points of contact, and a plethora of directions to explore.  Although I am not quite as adventurous as some, I have been exposed to a large number of different ideas about spirituality.

The common debate of religion versus spirituality, one that seems to have found its way around Western society on its own, has so many permutations it challenges even the best religious thinkers.  But that is not a question for this post.  The real question that concerns me today is, can we resolve the issue of the existence of god if we accept that neither sie will concede (short of god appearing on the mountain and moving it)?  Let me first state that I do not have the magic answer that proves or disproves the reality of the supernatural.  I have read the arguments that exist and none satisfy me in any real way. They sometimes work rationally, but most fail the “so what?” test.  It is fantastic to say that an ordered universe implies an intelligent designer, but we can then ask about the obvious flaws in that design, sickness, suffering, and the dark side of human nature.  Surely we could demand a better blueprint.  This is, again, beside the point.  I don’t want to convince you to believe in a supernatural idea.  In fact, I am mostly interested in people accepting moral responsibility for their actions and adhering to a code of behaviour that promotes the value of the person as an interdependent member of society.  Thus for me there is no need to argue about the existence of god, although I do think it is a healthy exercise as part of spiritual development (or lack of). I also see the value of philosophical discussion, even if its just a repeated thought experiment, every term, on every campus.

If we are going to get serious about the question of god’s existence, and I have no doubt that many people are serious about it, we need to ask ourselves about our endgame.  What do we hope to accomplish from this? Why are we arguing? Why is it so important to you to prove or disprove somethign that by its definition can’t be known for sure?  I can see three main motivations for engaging in this conversation, though I am sure there are more.  The first is the desire to discuss the topic at hand in a scholarly way, and thus be part of the academic community.  in other words, the participant wants to be involved in the debate because it is one of the classic debates of the last few hundred years, in particular the last century or so.  This group might also be motivated by the need to definitively convince the other side of the truth of their position.  There are certainly those who think they can change the beliefs of others by presenting them with the “facts,” and to some degree I’m sure they can persuade the undecided in one direction or the other.  But the thought that someone who is entrenched will suddenly change, even as the result of vigorous debate is mostly a dream.  Debates tend to increase people’s belief in their own cause rather than softening them to the other position.  The final main motivation I can see for such a debate is insecurity. Certainly there are those who need to convince themselves that what they believe is the truth, and by dismissing the ideas of others with rational arguments they give themselves the security blanket they desire.  Now there is nothing wrong with any of these reasons for entering a debate, and if you enjoy the process then you should get involved. I only mention them as a contrast to my own ideas about discussing the supernatural meaning of life.  I have never felt the urge to participate in such a debate, mostly because I don’t agree with the purpose of it.  If I want to discuss the nature of the universe, and learn other people’s beliefs I’d rather do it a a dialogue, not a debate. Certainly their ideas will challenge my long held assumptions, but as I mentioned on an episode of the podcast that is exactly what I want.  I don’t want to be able to hide behind the walls of my own beliefs (as ill-defined as they may be at any given time).  Can I speak with conviction about how I see the world? Of course I can, and from time to time I do so on the blog or podcast.  I think that the focus of a discussion about the existence of god should be on meaning of such a universe rather than the veracity of the claim.  We should present the arguments for and against every kind of belief for people who wish to explore them, but when we meet to discuss beliefs it is more useful to look at the impact of belief.  By all means engage in debate if you like, but I will be off sorting out what existence means for those who are experiencing it.

I recently heard a prominent fictional character say that they don’t believe in an afterlife because they don’t want life to be a test.    In a future post I will be exploring the notion that the afterlife exists independently of life on earth. In other words, heaven is not a reward for a life well lived, but the next step in the process.  Thus it is more like experiencing puberty than graduating high school.  The implications of that line of thought are enormous, and I should say that I don’t believe in acting justly because there is a supernatural reward.  I think any reward cheapens the activity, though it does not diminish its inherent value independent of the actor.

On the Value of a View

January 31, 2009

Ever since I was a child I’ve had a habit of stopping and staring off into the distance.  I don’t really gaze at people, rather I lose myself in the sky or in the horizon, or in the city below.  As humans we love lookouts and have built trails to high places all over the world. I greatly appreciate those people. Houses that come with beautiful scenery cost more, and hot air balloons were popular in part because they gave passengers a million dollar view. What do we see when we gaze at a static scene.  The stars twinkle and slowly move, but we don’t really perceive that.  The mountains certainly don’t go anywhere, and although trees wave in the wind, I doubt people really notice, I know I don’t.  For me, a great view is not about attention to detail. Rather I think it relates to two important factors, the primordial connection with trees and nature, and the opportunity to become lost.

A couple of years ago, I attended a symposium on “green” urban planning.  I was there because I am interested in the use of greenspace in the city.  One of the presenters was a University professor in Chicago who studied the effect of trees on the mood of residents in low income housing.  He discovered that people who lived in units with trees around them were happier, felt safer, and committed fewer violent crimes then those who did not have trees.  Since the units were more or less identical in every other regard, and the tenants were randomly assigned to their units, he hypothesized that the trees could explain the discrepancy.   He drew our attention to the primordial landscape, which was predominately the Savannah plains of Africa, with the occasional lush oasis.  In a time when finding water was a matter of life and death, the sight of vegetation was comforting, and would have represented temporary refuge.  Thus scenes of nature, particularly those with trees, help people relax.

Beyond that nature can be observed and enjoyed passively. This is what I mean by becoming lost and it is another reason that nature is so relaxing to watch. The theory goes that viewing a natural scene does not require the human brain to analyze in order to comprehend.  Essentially, we enjoy the natural world because it is easy for us to grasp.  Reading, watching films or tv, viewing art, attending a play or sporting event, all require a degree of higher thought to appreciate, whereas viewing a static scene of nature is simple and straightforward.

I suppose to some degree I am advocating increased greenspace in urban environments. I am actually very interested in the role of gardens in institutional settings.  In homeless shelters, prisons, and hospitals there is some evidence that greenspace could improve the mood of clients/inmates and decrease incidents of violence.  There is also the added environmental benefits that come from adding plant life to the urban landscape.

She/He Runs/Walks From/Toward Herself/Himself

December 28, 2008

The streets youre walking on, a thousand houses long, and that’s where I belong, and you belong with me, not swallowed in the sea.


Swallowed in the Sea

In an earlier post in this blog I briefly discussed the work of Viktor Frankl and his thoughts on the search for meaning. In the Christmas Eve episode of the podcast I discussed the religious quest for answers.  As I was walking home from the library today, clutching three good books and a film that promises to be part of Monday’s podcast, I was contemplating my own quest for identity.  There is a transition point in most people’s lives where they go from being a learner to being a doer.  The Coldplay song I have quoted deals with that question by positing ways that a person could carve out their niche in the world.  Others are always asking me, “so what will you do now? What are you doing now? What’s the plan?” and obviously I can’t answer them. I could say, oh I’m writing a blog, I’m making a podcast, I’m recording music, and I’m exploring the world as much as I can.  That doesn’t get to the meaning of their question I’m sure, but it does speak to my current hunt for an identity. Although in the podcast I talked about the search for meaning as a fundamental experience of life, the quest for identity is arguably more important.  I think most people can live without a meaning in life if they have a sense of who they are and how they fit. I guess the two ideas are intertwined in that in order to have an identity you must find some meaning in who you are, and vice versa.

The only reason I can really sit and question my own identity is because I have free time. Having nothing to do is the fertile soil in which philosophy grows.  I’m sure if I had 100 things t accomplish I would not give myself a second thought. Things would just be as they are.  It’s funny actually, because I spent many years studying other people’s ideas about identity and answers to the qeustion of meaning without ever fully developing my own.  The tendency to ignore your own thoughts when learning those of others can be one of the challenges of education.  It doesn’t have to be that way of course, and I would say that my experiments with writing and music stand as an example of my own seeking during my formative years.  But can I find my identity in lines of melody and text?  My girlfriend said to me the other day (in reference to some other band’s song), that she liked their music because it was clear what it was about.  She continued by telling me that my songs were incomprehenisble and confusing, though she still liked them.  I am open to that criticism and I’ve said before that the songs don’t always make sense to me at first.  But I’ve lost my way a bit here.  I think identity is something best understood in retrospect because in the moment it’s hard to see clearly what is really going on. Regardless it’s important to me that I look. How about you?

You’re Gonna Come Down

December 18, 2008

It’s a lifetime’s decision, recovering the satellites

Counting Crows

Recovering the Satellites

I wasn’t sure when I’d have time to write this post. Turns out it’s at 4:41am Wednesday.  It’s very close to 24 hours before I will actually post it.  I couldn’t sleep tonight, so mother nature provided me with something to do. I have spent the last hour and a half shovelling several houses worth of snow, while enjoying a great many songs on my iPod. For some reason I had never thought to bring it out with me on a snow adventure before. The world is so quiet at this time of the morning. I used to work nights and I loved the period between 2-7am when most of the world shuts down for a bit to sleep.

Tonight has provided me with a chance to think. My mind wandered a lot has I was thoughtlessly shovelling snow. In a previous (and perhaps future?) life I was a bit of a philosopher. I was especially mindful of the topic of religion.  Many people will say to you, oh I don’t talk about religion, but I think they are just denying themselves an opportunity for an enriching dialogue. Unless of course they are close minded on the subject and reject any prspective beyond their own. Tonight the falling snow, the solitude, and to some degree the Bright Eyes song I Must Belong Somewhere encouraged me to think about religion once again.  It doesn’t hurt that I’ve applied for a job in a religious community. Anyway a singular idea occured to me, namely that religion is the simplest proof that life is what you make of it. People are capable of believing just about anything. Don’t believe me? Think all religions are basically the same? I guess it depends on your definition of what “religion” is. If you think there is only one definition then you have not taken Religious Studies 101. We all define religion in our own way.  I’ve read stories of the cargo cults who built wooden airports in the hopes of appeasing the “gods,” American supply planes. Or how about the Breatharians whose leaders convinced several people that they could live off air alone. Those people consequently starved to death, tragically.  My point is we are all faced with choices.  Some are of course easy, like what to have after dinner (hint: ice cream is always the correct answer).  Many are a lot harder. What should I do with my life? Who should I date? Or who will date me? Should I stay or should I move? Do I want orange juice or coffee with my eggs and bacon?  What do I believe?  This last question speaks to the fundamental human dilemma. Unlike other animals we are blessed and burdened with the awareness of and the ability to contemplate everything.  Once again we have a choice. Some people try to explain it all. Some try to ignore the issue. Som listen to the wisdom or lunacy of others.  Some believe we can never know it all, and knowing that is enough.  I don’t think any of these people are wrong.  Everything must belong somwhere.