http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Lower_Decks_(episode)
[nerd hat]
In this episode of TNG, a junior officer who's had some trouble with the concept of being a Starfleet officer (she feels that the Fleet has been unjust to her in various ways, troubles with authority, etc) is sent on a dangerous mission. Part of this involves being sent back to the Enterprise aboard a tiny life capsule; there's a good chance that she'll be killed. As it happens, she is.
[/nerd hat]
When I saw this episode, I was struck by the question: is her death a tragedy? I guess the answer is: it depends. If, during that long dark journey, she was alone and terrified, quaking in fear of her death - that would be a tragedy. But if she were okay with things - if she really accepted the consequences of her decision (she volunteered for this mission) - and thus the chance of her death - then from that perspective her death is not such a tragedy. (On the other hand, it would perhaps be a great loss to the rest of us if we were to lose such a person - the world perhaps needs more such people. This is a paradox*).
It is these thoughts that led me to think of a myth, of sorts. (I'm into created mythologies). While Sito was taking that long dark trip, maybe she had the chance to talk to someone - someone who helped her accept the possibility of her own death, and be okay with that, so that when she died, she was not afraid. The myth is that everyone, before they die, has that chance - to talk with someone (in the myth, one particular person) until they can accept the contingency and finitude of life. (I think Nietzsche might say: until they learn to love fate).
This myth has a dark version. In this version of the myth, everyone talks to someone - but this conversation is not about acceptance; it's about - let's say the realization of the unalterability of sin. I say "let's say" because this pair of myths have an interesting feature: only one of them can actually make sense. It's meant to be a conversation, one that enables the dying individual to see a truth - not a coercive process meant to bring them to believe something, by any means necessary. And only one of these two opposing visions of the world can be true. The question is: which? (If you want a good fictional exposition of the dark myth, go watch Hard Candy).
* The paradox is, I think, only apparent; but it's important and revealing to figure out how it is resolved - to see how these two perspectives on death interact. Part of this, I think, involves seeing why the fact that deaths are (in some cases) no tragedy does not make it okay to kill people. I think that this involves understanding that the business of human life is action: we do the best we can, but what happens, happens; it is the past, and our actions all concern the future.
Showing posts with label a fantastical and curious place. Show all posts
Showing posts with label a fantastical and curious place. Show all posts
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
living is a risky business
This is going to be really quick, abstract, and vague, but:
I think that a flaw that corrupts some philosophy, whether it be in ethics or metaphysics, is the desire to give a final, perfect answer. In ethics, this would be a way of living that is, once and for all, morally unimpeachable. If we could just get things right, there would be no danger of acting wrongly (acting wrongly even with the best of intentions). I don't think there is any such answer, any such way of living. Life is a risky business. We can't eliminate the possibility of mistakes, of failures, of one sort or another.
One of the ways that philosophy tries to avoid the point that there is no such answer is by divorcing philosophy and its subject matter. There is the good life, and there is philosophizing about the good life. That is, it would be moronic (or exceedingly arrogant) for a philosopher not to acknowledge that their theories are controversial, doubtful, subject to criticism and revision. But by separating the good life from their philosophizing about it, they can separate it (the good life) off from all that controvesry, doubt, criticism, and revision. This is both wrong and bad.
I think that a flaw that corrupts some philosophy, whether it be in ethics or metaphysics, is the desire to give a final, perfect answer. In ethics, this would be a way of living that is, once and for all, morally unimpeachable. If we could just get things right, there would be no danger of acting wrongly (acting wrongly even with the best of intentions). I don't think there is any such answer, any such way of living. Life is a risky business. We can't eliminate the possibility of mistakes, of failures, of one sort or another.
One of the ways that philosophy tries to avoid the point that there is no such answer is by divorcing philosophy and its subject matter. There is the good life, and there is philosophizing about the good life. That is, it would be moronic (or exceedingly arrogant) for a philosopher not to acknowledge that their theories are controversial, doubtful, subject to criticism and revision. But by separating the good life from their philosophizing about it, they can separate it (the good life) off from all that controvesry, doubt, criticism, and revision. This is both wrong and bad.
Monday, January 12, 2009
a fantastical and curious place, part two
part one
Just after I interviewed the student discussed in the previous post, I interviewed another student. Football was his most important activity; he felt that he really learned a lot from it - it's made him more of a man, and taught him to persevere through the hardest times, like when you're down five points and you have to pull it together and win the game. He later discussed his interest in business; while he's got no specific interest in it (i.e. not in accounting or marketing or w/e), he always saw himself in that career, just as others dream of being firefighters or police officers. He can just see himself in a corner office with a view of a big city. "You know," he said, "Donald Trump, with the suits, and he works with people at big tables..."
It struck me, right then and there, that this kid had never seen hard times, that he really knew very little about life. So it's strange - while awful things had happened to the previous student, they had really became a better person, a more reflective person, a stronger person, for it. This student had had nothing bad happen to him - had led an idyllic life - and turned out much worse. So who really had good fortune, and who bad?
(this is close to a certain sort of theodicy)
Of course, it is true that other people, with different characters, might have been totally destroyed by watching their father's suicide. It could have been an awful thing. But, it seems that, in the end, it wasn't.
This is why, when people ask me what I think of my past, whether I wish it were different, I always tell them that I would never wish to change the past. Learn from it, yes - change it, no. Too much has happened, has become part of me, and part of other people - and how could I take that from anyone?
Just after I interviewed the student discussed in the previous post, I interviewed another student. Football was his most important activity; he felt that he really learned a lot from it - it's made him more of a man, and taught him to persevere through the hardest times, like when you're down five points and you have to pull it together and win the game. He later discussed his interest in business; while he's got no specific interest in it (i.e. not in accounting or marketing or w/e), he always saw himself in that career, just as others dream of being firefighters or police officers. He can just see himself in a corner office with a view of a big city. "You know," he said, "Donald Trump, with the suits, and he works with people at big tables..."
It struck me, right then and there, that this kid had never seen hard times, that he really knew very little about life. So it's strange - while awful things had happened to the previous student, they had really became a better person, a more reflective person, a stronger person, for it. This student had had nothing bad happen to him - had led an idyllic life - and turned out much worse. So who really had good fortune, and who bad?
(this is close to a certain sort of theodicy)
Of course, it is true that other people, with different characters, might have been totally destroyed by watching their father's suicide. It could have been an awful thing. But, it seems that, in the end, it wasn't.
This is why, when people ask me what I think of my past, whether I wish it were different, I always tell them that I would never wish to change the past. Learn from it, yes - change it, no. Too much has happened, has become part of me, and part of other people - and how could I take that from anyone?
Sunday, January 11, 2009
emotions
I have at various times been told that I am, in one sense or another, an unemotional person, or that I am disconnected from my emotions. This may be true
Earlier this fall, I was very, very unhappy. This was a persistent bad mood that lasted for at least a few months. Basically I was distressed about possible future events, and this set my baseline mood to "unhappy." It was not a lot of fun.
One day, after work, I walked outside, and it was snowing. And I suddenly became really, really happy - winter is my favorite season, after all. It was simply beautiful walking home in the snow. And I haven't been unhappy since. This is rather odd. Nothing changed about the future, after all - and yet I am happy.
This suggests to me that my moods (shall we call them) are not entirely responsive to reasons, or at least good reasons. A snowfall should not, rationalistically speaking, be the sort of thing to clear up anxiety.
Or maybe it should. Maybe it is a good reminder, for me at least, that the world is a beautiful place. And maybe I had forgotten about that - and maybe forgetting that is what my depression was all about. It's odd.
in other news:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/14/magazine/14bipolar-t.html
"The Bipolar Puzzle"
by Jennifer Egan
September 12, 2008
The New York Times
"“My feelings weren’t really going that well,” Phia [a nine year old with bipolar disorder] told me when I asked her about the previous weekend. “It was like all of a sudden, horribleish. Unexplainable mad, sad horrible feelings inside.” She blamed the several days of standardized tests she recently took at school, saying they made her anxious."
It's interesting that when she is young, Phia can see that her feelings aren't really prompted by the events around her, in a way - that they're not caused by what they purport to be about. For my part, realizing that a snowfall was enough to make me happy makes me wonder whether I was ever really upset by the future, or whether that's just what my bad mood fixated on after the fact.
Earlier this fall, I was very, very unhappy. This was a persistent bad mood that lasted for at least a few months. Basically I was distressed about possible future events, and this set my baseline mood to "unhappy." It was not a lot of fun.
One day, after work, I walked outside, and it was snowing. And I suddenly became really, really happy - winter is my favorite season, after all. It was simply beautiful walking home in the snow. And I haven't been unhappy since. This is rather odd. Nothing changed about the future, after all - and yet I am happy.
This suggests to me that my moods (shall we call them) are not entirely responsive to reasons, or at least good reasons. A snowfall should not, rationalistically speaking, be the sort of thing to clear up anxiety.
Or maybe it should. Maybe it is a good reminder, for me at least, that the world is a beautiful place. And maybe I had forgotten about that - and maybe forgetting that is what my depression was all about. It's odd.
in other news:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/14/magazine/14bipolar-t.html
"The Bipolar Puzzle"
by Jennifer Egan
September 12, 2008
The New York Times
"“My feelings weren’t really going that well,” Phia [a nine year old with bipolar disorder] told me when I asked her about the previous weekend. “It was like all of a sudden, horribleish. Unexplainable mad, sad horrible feelings inside.” She blamed the several days of standardized tests she recently took at school, saying they made her anxious."
It's interesting that when she is young, Phia can see that her feelings aren't really prompted by the events around her, in a way - that they're not caused by what they purport to be about. For my part, realizing that a snowfall was enough to make me happy makes me wonder whether I was ever really upset by the future, or whether that's just what my bad mood fixated on after the fact.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
a fantastical and curious place
I once interviewed a student. I asked them, "What would you change about the world, were I to give you a magic wand?" They thought a moment, then said that they would make everyone stronger - and not physically stronger. That is, if awful, terrible things happen to you, and they're all you can see and you just focus on the negative, then that's a real tragedy. But if, when terrible things happen, you can think 'How can I learn and grow and become stronger from this,' if you can keep in mind that the world is a fantastical and curious place, then that can be a really good thing. So in that sense, they wanted to make everyone stronger.
I then asked the student what they would change about themselves, given a magic wand. They responded that they would make themselves less nervous. They then thought for a moment, and said, "Ok, my father killed himself when I was twelve [I later found out that they witnessed the event]. And that was really hard at the time. But I've grown and become stronger and I'm okay now. But I'm still a little too careful with other people's emotions - you know - sometimes it would be better, better for them, better for me, better for the world, if I would just tell them the truth about certain things. So in that sense I'd like to be less nervous."
This is one of the students that I have interviewed that I really admire, who really impresses me, who inspires me. The world is a fantastical and curious place, and everything - everything - that happens can be an occasion for joy, of a sort, or at least for learning and growth (I include the second part of the story to demonstrate that this student actually did know what hard times are, unlike many of the kids I interview). In this mood, one might be tempted to affirm a theodicy of sorts. I don't think, however, that this thought absolves us of action - or at least, properly understood it does not. That is, a different version of the above point is that the business of human life is action. The question always is, "Where do we go from here?" And that involves learning from the past, not dwelling on it.
But I almost prefer the version that says that the world is a fantastical, a curious, a beautiful (perhaps even a dangerous) place. It is a joy to be alive, every moment - if we can just see it.
*Some months later I told this story to another student (the first wish). They responded by saying that maybe this would make things worse - because bad people as well would be better able to deal with life's troubles, and would therefore be better equipped to do bad things. I think this student really missed the point.
I then asked the student what they would change about themselves, given a magic wand. They responded that they would make themselves less nervous. They then thought for a moment, and said, "Ok, my father killed himself when I was twelve [I later found out that they witnessed the event]. And that was really hard at the time. But I've grown and become stronger and I'm okay now. But I'm still a little too careful with other people's emotions - you know - sometimes it would be better, better for them, better for me, better for the world, if I would just tell them the truth about certain things. So in that sense I'd like to be less nervous."
This is one of the students that I have interviewed that I really admire, who really impresses me, who inspires me. The world is a fantastical and curious place, and everything - everything - that happens can be an occasion for joy, of a sort, or at least for learning and growth (I include the second part of the story to demonstrate that this student actually did know what hard times are, unlike many of the kids I interview). In this mood, one might be tempted to affirm a theodicy of sorts. I don't think, however, that this thought absolves us of action - or at least, properly understood it does not. That is, a different version of the above point is that the business of human life is action. The question always is, "Where do we go from here?" And that involves learning from the past, not dwelling on it.
But I almost prefer the version that says that the world is a fantastical, a curious, a beautiful (perhaps even a dangerous) place. It is a joy to be alive, every moment - if we can just see it.
*Some months later I told this story to another student (the first wish). They responded by saying that maybe this would make things worse - because bad people as well would be better able to deal with life's troubles, and would therefore be better equipped to do bad things. I think this student really missed the point.
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