Recently a friend of mine linked me a video justifying terrorism. Or at the least explaining how terrorism may be justified. It was from a Bollywood movie I think. The arguments aren't sound and very sensationalist so I won't waste your time by linking it here. (The response by one of the characters for "Explain 9/11" was a comparison of how more people died in the Afghan bombings by the USA as compared to the World Trade Centre. The explanation for an event happened after the event. Although to his credit, his point was that Afghanistan suffered more. An arguably valid point to make by itself, though not as a response/explanation of 9/11.) In any event, the question that bugged me the most was "Is terrorism wrong?" Or rather more accurately, are acts of terrorism which target civilians wrong? Of course, the thing is that when the USA invaded the Middle East, there were civilians which were injured as well. There has also been considerable debate about whether civilians were actually targeted as hostile elements in the battlefield.
Sometimes we react very strongly especially when death is involved. We tend to either support what we already believe in or we end up diametrically opposed to what believe in. Rather unfortunately, life does not always fit our thought paradigms. Sometimes innocuous questions lead us down a slippery path and we slip into thought processes which aren't so ideal. "Is terrorism wrong?" is one of them. Ask around, there will probably only be two answers. Either people think terrorism is not morally justified or they think that it is. The reasons are plenty for why it isn't, and significantly less for why it is.
Rather more specifically though, there have been those who think the 9/11 attacks were unjustified, and those who think it was justified, or at least understandable. I've read through both sides and I'm not going to prime your mind towards any particular side, so make your own decision on that. The point I will make however, is that I think both sides are failing to see the bigger picture. Political scientists and historians have come together to debate on this. Philosophers as well, in a rather detached and slightly irrelevant manner as is befitting; debating whether it can be justified, instead of whether it actually is. If we examine the facts of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, I think both sides can agree that the US set events in motion which led up to it. The problem is pinpointing where the fault lies. With the US? For meddling in the affairs of the Middle East? Or with Al Qaeda? Who unilaterally attacked the US? General sentiment seems to be that either US or Al Qaeda is wrong, although some might be inclined to think they both did something wrong.
What I don't seem to understand is this idea that someone did something wrong. Here we have an unpleasant situation, that of terrorism. And rather strangely (or interestingly), the question is primed in such a way that we seek out someone to blame. "Is terrorism wrong?" Granted, not everyone asked themselves this question, but if you ever did or have ever been asked this question, did you stop to think why the question was formulated in such a manner? It seems like a perfectly innocuous question. It seems disguised as an ethical issue. "Is terrorism wrong?", "Can it be morally justified?" Why are we seeking to know if it can be morally justified? Why do we seek to know if we can blame someone for this? Inherent in the question is the idea that someone 'should have known better than to do this'. Why should someone have known better?
I don't think anyone has done right, we're definitely not right. The fact that the world isn't a peaceful place where we can take planes without fear is good reason to think that we didn't get it right. However, it doesn't mean that we're wrong either. It doesn't mean we made a mistake. I think we need to discard the narrow, dichotomous thought paradigm. Yes, the US didn't do the best of jobs when they were in the Middle East, yes, Al Qaeda didn't make the best decision when they decided to go ahead with 9/11. But they weren't wrong. They weren't right, but they weren't wrong either. Each was doing what they could within their capacity to attain 'happiness'/their ideals for themselves, and they came into conflict. Does this mean we endorse terrorism? No, like I said, Al Qaeda isn't right. They didn't make the best of decisions, but that doesn't make them wrong. They had good justifications for acting this way, even though they may not have had the best of reasons. I think the same applies for the US. It was probably not the best idea to meddle in the Middle East. But I don't think it was wrong to do so.
I do not think that we can carry over the moral gauge/compass that we use for criminals during peacetime onto this protracted 'war against terror'. Here we have an enemy that is so integrated with the civilian population that the old adage of targeting only military personnel no longer works simply because the enemy is not a military. And what terrorists are doing are very similar from the violent revolutions that have rocked the world. The desire for change and their belief in their cause is so strong it leads them to violence. Neither are the best of actions, but they're not wrong either. We would have to radically re-think our conception of 'wrong'. Something is not wrong simply by virtue of it not being right.
If we have a moral system, then perhaps we can adjudicate who was morally wrong, although getting people to agree on the same moral system presents another problem. However, what I do want to highlight is that the thought paradigm that there is something INHERENTLY wrong with the 9/11 attacks is flawed. The thought that there is someone that is to be blamed for it, or that there is someone who made a mistake is flawed. What we've done isn't right, but it isn't wrong either. Sure, we don't live in the most perfect of worlds, sure, shit happens all over the world. That doesn't mean we made a mistake. Just as the world is flawed in so many ways, it is also precious and valuable in many ways as well.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Friday, October 15, 2010
A tribute to Philosophy.
Quite frankly, it's nonsense.
Nothing is really made from it, it doesn't really do anything, and it's filled with anal-retentive people. You sit around all day in chairs and mumble to each other while not really listening to what the other has to say. All of the time you never understand what is going on, and all of the time you try to somehow make whatever you do manage to eventually understand, fit into your world view...and then realizing that it doesn't, you throw it away. You could otherwise be earning money, instead of collecting dust. And wondering why the books aren't in alphabetical order.
As I said, it's rubbish.
But it's like an old house or car. It stinks and it's filled to the brim with trash. The air-conditioning doesn't work, the sink doesn't work, the clutch is spoilt, the throttle is gone, the brakes lock up unevenly, the window doesn't open properly, the bed collapses on one end, the fan breaks down every alternate hour, the television set is as clear as the sky during a thunderstorm, and toilet flush spews water out.
Everything isn't working, and anything that actually works, is about to stop.
But you've lived or driven in it for such a long time, you know all these little tricks to get it going again. How to tweak the settings so the air-conditioning starts, how to control the water flow so that the sink functions, how to position the clutch lever so the clutch connects, where to step to get the throttle going again, how to steer the car to avoid the wheels locking up, how to push the window so that it opens, how to sleep so that the bed doesn't collapse, how long to keep the fan running before it breaks down, how to adjust the antenna and the various stuff around the house so the television works, and how to push the button without the sewage coming back up.
It's like an annoying sibling. You know exactly how to move him/her and exactly how to stop him/her. You've stuck by it so long that yes, it's annoying, yes, it's rubbish, yes, it's nonsense, yes, it's useless, but it's also something that you know best. It's the grandfather of academia itself. It has all these accolades and you can't really get any more academic than Philosophy. But that's not why I love it. Audi has won tons of rallies and made the marvel that is the R8. But I hate them. The TT and R8 look like frogs while the rest of the line look like hotdog buns.
If I had to draw an analogy, Philo is like an Alfa. It's complete nonsense. The interior is made from straw and the engine runs on lard. You'll get annoyed multiple times in a day, you'll tear your hair out, you'll curse and swear, you'll knit your brows so much you'll tie a knot in them, and you'll want to strangle people. But at the end of the day, when the engine cackles to life, that rush of accomplishment and fulfillment makes everything alright again. When you drive an Alfa, you're driving in the crucible of drivers. The Alfa tests every single skill in you as a driver.
Philo is no different. It's not something you make money from, it's not something you throw money at and then it churns out diamonds. It's not even something you just know, and then never use again. Philosophy stands as a crucible to all knowledge. You want to know something? You want to be really sure? Throw yourself against it. You'll be broken, smashed, demolished, traumatized, and deranged. At the end of the day, you'll find that you really have nothing, you'll get annoyed at other people who seem to have gotten something, you'll get annoyed at yourself for being a twit, you'll want to quit and you'll want to shoot yourself. But. And that's a big but. When it all comes together and you realize your beliefs are consistent and make sense, the kind of security that gives you, the sure-footedness of your mind, that makes everything worth it.
It is absolutely annoying, and it is rubbish. But stick with it for awhile, learn how to open the spoilt door, learn how to step on the brakes, learn how to turn the steering wheel, learn the worldviews and the arguments behind them. Learn what is important to you. Learn how you think. Learn the minute but important distinctions. Take your time, and get them down, and you'll definitely find that you begin to truly start to enjoy the ride. Because then, you're not just smashing yourself against a wall. You're starting to fight back.
I don't love it because of how grand it is, or how revered it is. I love it because it embodies the soul and passion of progress. Be defeated, but always, always, rise from the ashes.
Nothing is really made from it, it doesn't really do anything, and it's filled with anal-retentive people. You sit around all day in chairs and mumble to each other while not really listening to what the other has to say. All of the time you never understand what is going on, and all of the time you try to somehow make whatever you do manage to eventually understand, fit into your world view...and then realizing that it doesn't, you throw it away. You could otherwise be earning money, instead of collecting dust. And wondering why the books aren't in alphabetical order.
As I said, it's rubbish.
But it's like an old house or car. It stinks and it's filled to the brim with trash. The air-conditioning doesn't work, the sink doesn't work, the clutch is spoilt, the throttle is gone, the brakes lock up unevenly, the window doesn't open properly, the bed collapses on one end, the fan breaks down every alternate hour, the television set is as clear as the sky during a thunderstorm, and toilet flush spews water out.
Everything isn't working, and anything that actually works, is about to stop.
But you've lived or driven in it for such a long time, you know all these little tricks to get it going again. How to tweak the settings so the air-conditioning starts, how to control the water flow so that the sink functions, how to position the clutch lever so the clutch connects, where to step to get the throttle going again, how to steer the car to avoid the wheels locking up, how to push the window so that it opens, how to sleep so that the bed doesn't collapse, how long to keep the fan running before it breaks down, how to adjust the antenna and the various stuff around the house so the television works, and how to push the button without the sewage coming back up.
It's like an annoying sibling. You know exactly how to move him/her and exactly how to stop him/her. You've stuck by it so long that yes, it's annoying, yes, it's rubbish, yes, it's nonsense, yes, it's useless, but it's also something that you know best. It's the grandfather of academia itself. It has all these accolades and you can't really get any more academic than Philosophy. But that's not why I love it. Audi has won tons of rallies and made the marvel that is the R8. But I hate them. The TT and R8 look like frogs while the rest of the line look like hotdog buns.
If I had to draw an analogy, Philo is like an Alfa. It's complete nonsense. The interior is made from straw and the engine runs on lard. You'll get annoyed multiple times in a day, you'll tear your hair out, you'll curse and swear, you'll knit your brows so much you'll tie a knot in them, and you'll want to strangle people. But at the end of the day, when the engine cackles to life, that rush of accomplishment and fulfillment makes everything alright again. When you drive an Alfa, you're driving in the crucible of drivers. The Alfa tests every single skill in you as a driver.
Philo is no different. It's not something you make money from, it's not something you throw money at and then it churns out diamonds. It's not even something you just know, and then never use again. Philosophy stands as a crucible to all knowledge. You want to know something? You want to be really sure? Throw yourself against it. You'll be broken, smashed, demolished, traumatized, and deranged. At the end of the day, you'll find that you really have nothing, you'll get annoyed at other people who seem to have gotten something, you'll get annoyed at yourself for being a twit, you'll want to quit and you'll want to shoot yourself. But. And that's a big but. When it all comes together and you realize your beliefs are consistent and make sense, the kind of security that gives you, the sure-footedness of your mind, that makes everything worth it.
It is absolutely annoying, and it is rubbish. But stick with it for awhile, learn how to open the spoilt door, learn how to step on the brakes, learn how to turn the steering wheel, learn the worldviews and the arguments behind them. Learn what is important to you. Learn how you think. Learn the minute but important distinctions. Take your time, and get them down, and you'll definitely find that you begin to truly start to enjoy the ride. Because then, you're not just smashing yourself against a wall. You're starting to fight back.
I don't love it because of how grand it is, or how revered it is. I love it because it embodies the soul and passion of progress. Be defeated, but always, always, rise from the ashes.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
It's pouring.
What words can I use?
What words do I use?
What words can be said?
What words should be said?
Your silence speaks for more than I will ever hear.
My silence speaks of the emptiness in my mind.
Nothing I say now will mean anything to you.
Anything I say now is only air exhaled from my mouth.
Where once you sat and slept,
only space occupies it.
Where once you talked and laughed,
only silence occupies it.
Death is something we cannot avoid,
but something we can always defeat.
I can only hope that in your last few moments,
you looked death in the eyes and was able to smile.
At the end of it all,
was it worth the pain and suffering?
At the end of it all,
I hope you enjoyed it.
As we set your world on fire,
As we sent what was left of you away,
As we searched our minds for memories we could take,
We paid our last respects to the man you were.
The searing heat and flames of the furnace snatch your corporeal from us,
returning everything to the desert of existence.
But on this side of the glass window,
The skies are grey and it is pouring.
What words do I use?
What words can be said?
What words should be said?
Your silence speaks for more than I will ever hear.
My silence speaks of the emptiness in my mind.
Nothing I say now will mean anything to you.
Anything I say now is only air exhaled from my mouth.
Where once you sat and slept,
only space occupies it.
Where once you talked and laughed,
only silence occupies it.
Death is something we cannot avoid,
but something we can always defeat.
I can only hope that in your last few moments,
you looked death in the eyes and was able to smile.
At the end of it all,
was it worth the pain and suffering?
At the end of it all,
I hope you enjoyed it.
As we set your world on fire,
As we sent what was left of you away,
As we searched our minds for memories we could take,
We paid our last respects to the man you were.
The searing heat and flames of the furnace snatch your corporeal from us,
returning everything to the desert of existence.
But on this side of the glass window,
The skies are grey and it is pouring.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Essence of Philosophy
Why do philosophy?
For truth? For knowledge? For certainty?
To ensure that everything we know, we can know for certain, and anything we don't know, we shall endaveour to discover.
That was the reason I always gave myself. Legitimate? Probably. I mean we all go on through life and we all die one day. I would at least like to know that what I believed in was true. That in my transient life I can somehow hold on, or at least touch something that lasts for eternity. To me that was truth.
Some do philosophy because it makes them think, it moves the mind and challenges it to break barriers and extend the frontiers of their minds. Some relish this intellectual challenge. Some are artists, they enjoy sitting back and observing the situation as other people live out their lives in front of them, and then reflecting on their own lives. I can say with no doubt in my mind, that they are all legitimate reasons.
But I still often find myself wondering why I want to do philosophy. The practice of philosophy and the study of philosophy are two entirely different things. I may be in love with the practice of philosophy, the expanding of my mind, the many windows of learning, the whole obession with rigor and what I love the most is the confidence that my beliefs are as clear and as true as I think they are. I love all these things and they motivate me to find out more, to clarify more, to know more and ultimately to think more. But, they only explain why I like the critical thinking and the pitting of minds against one another. Why do I want to study Nietzsche, Wittgenstien, Kierkegaard, Bertrand Russell, so on and so forth? Why do I want to write essays about them and be graded according to how much I know of them and what I think of their ideas?
It is one thing to do something and another thing to study it.
One can be philosophical, and do Business. One can have all the right frames of mind, the principle of charity, the logical consistency and accuracy, and an open-mind. He is a great philosopher, but he need not study Philosophy. So I thought about it long and hard. (For over a year. Some of you would know I struggled deciding if I should do Philosophy or Business.) Because if I had done business, I would not need to worry about supporting myself in the future.
Why do I choose to do Philosophy, and indeed why would anyone in their right mind even want to MAJOR in Philosophy? Everyone is curious, and for these 2 years I have failed to give them any substantial answer. For 2 years I have struggled with this very issue, what to do and what direction my future should take. I always answered, because I like it, or because I want to find out the truth. But I can no longer say that with the confidence in the past. Two years ago, that was sufficient, because I was young, and the young need heed no pragmatism. We can dream, and we can build our castles in the air, because that is where they belong, but after that we must always begin to put the foundations under them. If these foundations cannot be built, the castle will fall.
Going through the motions and doing stuff just because it is neccessary of me to do so has never been my strong suit. It is my greatest flaw. So saying that I want to study philosophy because I like it and want to find out the truth when I myself know that it is inadequate, will serve as no motivation for me in the future. Simply because I can study a myriad of things while still upholding the values and principles of philosophical thought. If I cannot believe in my own reasoning, how can I expect others to believe me.
I will admit that at many many many points in time, I regretted not thinking about this when I chose to enter FASS. I am sure every single one of you have thought that the reason I was doing philosophy was because of blind love for a subject. And to be honest it was. And like I have said before, it is a valid reason to do philosophy, but it is not an airtight one. Under close scrutiny it falls apart. If I can't even believe in myself, if I doubt myself, then I have no right to doubt the thoughts and opinions of others, and that is fundamental to the study of philosophy. I lingered on and off on the issue for 2 whole years of my NSF life and before I knew it I lost my chance at changing courses and I was going to do philosophy simply because there was no other choice. It was probably going to be the subject I can get the best grades in compared to other subjects. For 5 months after I ORDed I did nothing, not being able to find any inspiration to the direction my life was going. Just treating it as the consequence of a mistake, and just hoping for the best. I was dead.
I lamented the fact that I had not considered all these. I remembered that I had abandoned all my studies in secondary school and JC solely so I could do something I love. I thought that if I had known I was going to slog through life without doing what I really wanted I might as well have taken the sciences, at least it's a more profitable slog. I asked some of my friends if I should take business or philosophy, hoping that their answers would provide some comfort. I asked knowing that they would definitely ask me to do philosophy, if I were in their shoes I'd do the same. As a friend we should always support each other's dreams. It was like a drug, at that point in time you feel assured that you didn't make a mistake, but after some time you know it was an illusion. After all, I asked it knowing their answer. Sometimes it didn't work, sometimes they tell you to consider political science or yes indeed, business. And that's when reality hits you like a train. I didn't even dare to touch a philosophy book or any kind of idea during that period. There was simply no motivation. I was dead.
But to find a reason to do something is no easy task. It must be an airtight reason, that way it can sustain your motivation for years to come. To find motivation to study a subject I started to seriously ponder on the essence of philosophy. A subject with 2479 years of history, from the time of Socrates, to our present day Dawkins. I am no expert on philosophy, and that is why I was confused. Logic, accuracy, truth and all these things are so important in philosophy that over time I came to associate them together. That logic is philosophy, that philosophy is truth and so on and so forth (you catch my drift). But they are not. Logic may be paramount in ensuring accuracy and truth, but none of them are the essence of philosophy. I am not sure if any of you have, like me, come to equate the search for truth as philosophy. After seriously thinking about it over and over and over again, something felt empty, as if I wasn't doing a good job of summarizing philosophy. I tried over and over again to define philosophy, to capture the essence of it. Without knowing it's essence it is impossible to want to study it. But tonight, it hit me all of a sudden.
The essence of philosophy is not about being right or accurate about something, it is not about knowing something substantial and it is not about prescribing a certain way for others to live. It is not about finding the Golden Rule, the Theory of Everything or the one simple truth that holds everything together and gives our life meaning. That is not the essence of philosophy, it is what philosophers do, it is the result of the hard work of philosopher upon philosopher, but it is merely the result of philosophy, it's the goal we seek to achieve but not our motivation.
The essence of philosophy is merely the story of each and every philosopher trying to solve the conflicts and contradictions in their own lives. From Plato, to Descartes, to Hume, to Kierkegaard, to Nietzsche and so on and so forth.
They write treatises, they write discourses and they write essays. We think about what they write, we evaluate and we try to see if they were right. Often this desire for truth often gets mixed up in the whole purpose of philosophy. Yes, we are philosophers, we have to be logical and we have to make sense, we have to be precise and accurate in our expressions and our thoughts, we have to be objective and unbiased when it comes to things we believe in. But we are also human. We have problems in our lives and we can choose to confront them. For Nietzsche it was Nihilism. For Wittgenstein, Language. For Locke, Understanding what it means to be human. What I think is the essence of philosophy is the simple desire to confront our problems and our conflicts in life.
To do that we must know things, to do that we must be sure of what we know, to do that we must be sure it is true. And now the obession with truth becomes clear. Truth is not the be all and end all. the obession with truth comes from the fact that if we solve our problems without truth, then it is only self-deception. We fail in our purpose to confront them.
Philosophers write to spread knowledge, and to ensure that their solutions are true by verification with outside sources. I may be speaking out of turn here, but I daresay that at least a few of them hope that through whatever they are writing, be they true or false, through the solutions that they have thought about, someone elsewhere with the same problem can come to solve his as well. And that is what philosophy is. Not about truth. It's about life. Always has been, and probably always will be. I guess somewhere along the way I have lost sight of something that simple.
Philosophy's goal is to resolve every conflict in the world so that everything makes sense and is in order. That is the goal of all sentient life isn't it? Happiness and bliss? It works towards that goal, but that is not why we do philosophy, that is why we live.
Why do philosophy?
To solve my own problems. That is why. To study how others solved theirs, so that I can solve mine. So that I can be happy.
For truth? For knowledge? For certainty?
To ensure that everything we know, we can know for certain, and anything we don't know, we shall endaveour to discover.
That was the reason I always gave myself. Legitimate? Probably. I mean we all go on through life and we all die one day. I would at least like to know that what I believed in was true. That in my transient life I can somehow hold on, or at least touch something that lasts for eternity. To me that was truth.
Some do philosophy because it makes them think, it moves the mind and challenges it to break barriers and extend the frontiers of their minds. Some relish this intellectual challenge. Some are artists, they enjoy sitting back and observing the situation as other people live out their lives in front of them, and then reflecting on their own lives. I can say with no doubt in my mind, that they are all legitimate reasons.
But I still often find myself wondering why I want to do philosophy. The practice of philosophy and the study of philosophy are two entirely different things. I may be in love with the practice of philosophy, the expanding of my mind, the many windows of learning, the whole obession with rigor and what I love the most is the confidence that my beliefs are as clear and as true as I think they are. I love all these things and they motivate me to find out more, to clarify more, to know more and ultimately to think more. But, they only explain why I like the critical thinking and the pitting of minds against one another. Why do I want to study Nietzsche, Wittgenstien, Kierkegaard, Bertrand Russell, so on and so forth? Why do I want to write essays about them and be graded according to how much I know of them and what I think of their ideas?
It is one thing to do something and another thing to study it.
One can be philosophical, and do Business. One can have all the right frames of mind, the principle of charity, the logical consistency and accuracy, and an open-mind. He is a great philosopher, but he need not study Philosophy. So I thought about it long and hard. (For over a year. Some of you would know I struggled deciding if I should do Philosophy or Business.) Because if I had done business, I would not need to worry about supporting myself in the future.
Why do I choose to do Philosophy, and indeed why would anyone in their right mind even want to MAJOR in Philosophy? Everyone is curious, and for these 2 years I have failed to give them any substantial answer. For 2 years I have struggled with this very issue, what to do and what direction my future should take. I always answered, because I like it, or because I want to find out the truth. But I can no longer say that with the confidence in the past. Two years ago, that was sufficient, because I was young, and the young need heed no pragmatism. We can dream, and we can build our castles in the air, because that is where they belong, but after that we must always begin to put the foundations under them. If these foundations cannot be built, the castle will fall.
Going through the motions and doing stuff just because it is neccessary of me to do so has never been my strong suit. It is my greatest flaw. So saying that I want to study philosophy because I like it and want to find out the truth when I myself know that it is inadequate, will serve as no motivation for me in the future. Simply because I can study a myriad of things while still upholding the values and principles of philosophical thought. If I cannot believe in my own reasoning, how can I expect others to believe me.
I will admit that at many many many points in time, I regretted not thinking about this when I chose to enter FASS. I am sure every single one of you have thought that the reason I was doing philosophy was because of blind love for a subject. And to be honest it was. And like I have said before, it is a valid reason to do philosophy, but it is not an airtight one. Under close scrutiny it falls apart. If I can't even believe in myself, if I doubt myself, then I have no right to doubt the thoughts and opinions of others, and that is fundamental to the study of philosophy. I lingered on and off on the issue for 2 whole years of my NSF life and before I knew it I lost my chance at changing courses and I was going to do philosophy simply because there was no other choice. It was probably going to be the subject I can get the best grades in compared to other subjects. For 5 months after I ORDed I did nothing, not being able to find any inspiration to the direction my life was going. Just treating it as the consequence of a mistake, and just hoping for the best. I was dead.
I lamented the fact that I had not considered all these. I remembered that I had abandoned all my studies in secondary school and JC solely so I could do something I love. I thought that if I had known I was going to slog through life without doing what I really wanted I might as well have taken the sciences, at least it's a more profitable slog. I asked some of my friends if I should take business or philosophy, hoping that their answers would provide some comfort. I asked knowing that they would definitely ask me to do philosophy, if I were in their shoes I'd do the same. As a friend we should always support each other's dreams. It was like a drug, at that point in time you feel assured that you didn't make a mistake, but after some time you know it was an illusion. After all, I asked it knowing their answer. Sometimes it didn't work, sometimes they tell you to consider political science or yes indeed, business. And that's when reality hits you like a train. I didn't even dare to touch a philosophy book or any kind of idea during that period. There was simply no motivation. I was dead.
But to find a reason to do something is no easy task. It must be an airtight reason, that way it can sustain your motivation for years to come. To find motivation to study a subject I started to seriously ponder on the essence of philosophy. A subject with 2479 years of history, from the time of Socrates, to our present day Dawkins. I am no expert on philosophy, and that is why I was confused. Logic, accuracy, truth and all these things are so important in philosophy that over time I came to associate them together. That logic is philosophy, that philosophy is truth and so on and so forth (you catch my drift). But they are not. Logic may be paramount in ensuring accuracy and truth, but none of them are the essence of philosophy. I am not sure if any of you have, like me, come to equate the search for truth as philosophy. After seriously thinking about it over and over and over again, something felt empty, as if I wasn't doing a good job of summarizing philosophy. I tried over and over again to define philosophy, to capture the essence of it. Without knowing it's essence it is impossible to want to study it. But tonight, it hit me all of a sudden.
The essence of philosophy is not about being right or accurate about something, it is not about knowing something substantial and it is not about prescribing a certain way for others to live. It is not about finding the Golden Rule, the Theory of Everything or the one simple truth that holds everything together and gives our life meaning. That is not the essence of philosophy, it is what philosophers do, it is the result of the hard work of philosopher upon philosopher, but it is merely the result of philosophy, it's the goal we seek to achieve but not our motivation.
The essence of philosophy is merely the story of each and every philosopher trying to solve the conflicts and contradictions in their own lives. From Plato, to Descartes, to Hume, to Kierkegaard, to Nietzsche and so on and so forth.
They write treatises, they write discourses and they write essays. We think about what they write, we evaluate and we try to see if they were right. Often this desire for truth often gets mixed up in the whole purpose of philosophy. Yes, we are philosophers, we have to be logical and we have to make sense, we have to be precise and accurate in our expressions and our thoughts, we have to be objective and unbiased when it comes to things we believe in. But we are also human. We have problems in our lives and we can choose to confront them. For Nietzsche it was Nihilism. For Wittgenstein, Language. For Locke, Understanding what it means to be human. What I think is the essence of philosophy is the simple desire to confront our problems and our conflicts in life.
To do that we must know things, to do that we must be sure of what we know, to do that we must be sure it is true. And now the obession with truth becomes clear. Truth is not the be all and end all. the obession with truth comes from the fact that if we solve our problems without truth, then it is only self-deception. We fail in our purpose to confront them.
Philosophers write to spread knowledge, and to ensure that their solutions are true by verification with outside sources. I may be speaking out of turn here, but I daresay that at least a few of them hope that through whatever they are writing, be they true or false, through the solutions that they have thought about, someone elsewhere with the same problem can come to solve his as well. And that is what philosophy is. Not about truth. It's about life. Always has been, and probably always will be. I guess somewhere along the way I have lost sight of something that simple.
Philosophy's goal is to resolve every conflict in the world so that everything makes sense and is in order. That is the goal of all sentient life isn't it? Happiness and bliss? It works towards that goal, but that is not why we do philosophy, that is why we live.
Why do philosophy?
To solve my own problems. That is why. To study how others solved theirs, so that I can solve mine. So that I can be happy.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Random Stuff
Welcome to Earth
We live with the winter in our minds,
Hopes and dream frozen in thick ice.
Truth and falsity slip and fall,
We thought it was funny, and had a ball.
I saw a man who was a true knight,
He saved his damsel and won the fight.
He told the crowd to value their lives,
For even clowns had that one right.
I look at the stars and they wink their eyes,
But what I see are shadows in time.
I saw in that twinkle my true size,
And I got confused, what am I?
We hold in our minds two utterly contradictory beliefs; that each of us is precious and that none of us matter at all. (adapted from a quote by Jane Emily Bowers.)
This is the Human Condition.
Philosophers speak of things we condone,
The Law speaks of things we don't.
An act of kindness can hold true,
But even then we can't trust in full.
We lie, we cheat, we hurt, we steal,
We rely, we believe, we aid, we heal.
We judge, we condemn, we hate and speak ill.
We do these things but do not see.
Each one of us is fighting for the same thing, a small piece of happiness each day. (adapted from a quote by Paul Thomas Anderson.)
This is the Human Condition.
The world of man is a vast thing.
So are the choices man can choose between.
There are roads filled with danger,
and roads like straightaways.
Where we walk we can perhaps decide,
Where the road goes, now that, we roll the dice.
We pull ourselves through with decreasing vigour,
To escape we drown ourselves in pleasure.
Men is born free, but everywhere he is in chains. (Jean Jacques Rousseau)
This is the Human Condition.
Life is not easy, that I assure.
Answers to doubts elude us, but it is no terror.
Terror is where our hearts go,
Right off the road, where no man goes.
I can only say, live your life so well that death trembles to take you. (adapted from a quote by Charles Bukowski.)
Welcome to Earth, enjoy your stay.
Existential Angst
What we've lost we can never get back.
What we've done we can never undo.
That is the truth borne by the world.
That is the reality we are born into.
In this wind, hope grinds to dust.
In this wind, memories fade to white.
Visions of the past bring regret.
Visions of the future show only heathens.
The screams of those alive are wild.
The screams of the dead are in mockery.
Kings & Queens rule with benign facades.
Kings & Queens judge with lampoonery.
Worlds collide with rapacious violence.
Worlds collide into spiraling accusations.
Time watches as shadows consume men.
Time watches, devoid of intentions.
Life rushes as men become vapid.
Life rushes as vapid becomes mechanic.
How far have we come?
What have we become?
We live with the winter in our minds,
Hopes and dream frozen in thick ice.
Truth and falsity slip and fall,
We thought it was funny, and had a ball.
I saw a man who was a true knight,
He saved his damsel and won the fight.
He told the crowd to value their lives,
For even clowns had that one right.
I look at the stars and they wink their eyes,
But what I see are shadows in time.
I saw in that twinkle my true size,
And I got confused, what am I?
We hold in our minds two utterly contradictory beliefs; that each of us is precious and that none of us matter at all. (adapted from a quote by Jane Emily Bowers.)
This is the Human Condition.
Philosophers speak of things we condone,
The Law speaks of things we don't.
An act of kindness can hold true,
But even then we can't trust in full.
We lie, we cheat, we hurt, we steal,
We rely, we believe, we aid, we heal.
We judge, we condemn, we hate and speak ill.
We do these things but do not see.
Each one of us is fighting for the same thing, a small piece of happiness each day. (adapted from a quote by Paul Thomas Anderson.)
This is the Human Condition.
The world of man is a vast thing.
So are the choices man can choose between.
There are roads filled with danger,
and roads like straightaways.
Where we walk we can perhaps decide,
Where the road goes, now that, we roll the dice.
We pull ourselves through with decreasing vigour,
To escape we drown ourselves in pleasure.
Men is born free, but everywhere he is in chains. (Jean Jacques Rousseau)
This is the Human Condition.
Life is not easy, that I assure.
Answers to doubts elude us, but it is no terror.
Terror is where our hearts go,
Right off the road, where no man goes.
I can only say, live your life so well that death trembles to take you. (adapted from a quote by Charles Bukowski.)
Welcome to Earth, enjoy your stay.
Existential Angst
What we've lost we can never get back.
What we've done we can never undo.
That is the truth borne by the world.
That is the reality we are born into.
In this wind, hope grinds to dust.
In this wind, memories fade to white.
Visions of the past bring regret.
Visions of the future show only heathens.
The screams of those alive are wild.
The screams of the dead are in mockery.
Kings & Queens rule with benign facades.
Kings & Queens judge with lampoonery.
Worlds collide with rapacious violence.
Worlds collide into spiraling accusations.
Time watches as shadows consume men.
Time watches, devoid of intentions.
Life rushes as men become vapid.
Life rushes as vapid becomes mechanic.
How far have we come?
What have we become?
Sunday, March 21, 2010
March 17 2010, Shangri-La County, Shika Snow Mountain.
I am writing this from part of the Himalayas range. Almost 4000m above sea level. Temperature, probably -10 degrees celsius. Wind speed...very strong. As I write I struggle to keep pen on paper and paer on hand. Why anyone would come to ths place in this godforsaken weather is a mystery, until you experience it for yourself.
The glaring sun shines against the snow-capped peaks, reflecting a white that hasn't been seen before. It glares back at the sun with almost the same ferocity, but also with a certain dullness. It's a white that is both striking and calm. As I walk on the wooden pathway, the wind rattles the structure and shakes it to its roots. Gingerly walking, I slowly make my way across a ridge, and all at once the world seemed to stop. The wind howled, the pathway rattled, the sun shone on and my breathing was still heavy from the thin air. But for those few moments none of it registered. In front of me, was the Himalayas, the roof of the world. It was a sight to behold. No. I believed at one point I stopped seeing and felt. It was a feeling of awe.
There are many points in life where we hear people or that we ourselves have spoken, of how man is a part of Mother Nature. We speak of it because we know that we depends on her and to some, that we are a part of her. It makes perfect sense and it is reasonable to believe in them. But they are blind statements. Here on this mountain, with only wind, snow, sun, trees and man, humans being part of nature is an experience. It is not a bunch of words scribbled on paper, not the electrical signals that find their way into your screens and ear pieces and not the sound waves that ravel through the air from another's mouth. Like the blind man who has read about the color red through Braille. Here on this mountain, the blind man, for this first time in his entire life, sees the color red. In that instant, nothing goes through his head. It is the child in him that holds in in place, reveling in awe. It is the adult in him that holds him in place, trying to understand this experience using his life's knowledge. At the end of the day he reaches only one conclusion. Whatever Braille said about red, it wasn't even close.
Standing on part of the pathway overlooking the Himalayas range, I place my camera on the handrails of the walkway and took a quick photo of myself. It will serve to remind me of this place in time to come. What I write now will serve to remind me of of the experience I had in this place in time to come. Time is a funny thing. It comes and goes, but here time has little meaning. In a city, a 15min difference can meaning being late for a job interview, and costing you a future career. Here in the Himalayas the difference only means a stronger wind and a higher sun. Nothing here changes, and for once in your life you can only hear yourself.
The winds howl a tune that drown out everything. At this height it's not like there is anything to drown out anyway. But as soon as the wind stopped I realised something. This stop in howling is also part of the larger orchestral piece the winds were playing. The break away from a routine is part of it. When a musician plays, the pauses between notes is just as important as the notes themselves. They determine the pace and the mood of the entire piece. The many pauses and breaks that we take in our life are part of our lives as well. Sometimes we do not get to our goal immediately, sometimes we get to them extremely quickly. There are times we feel distressed that obstacles get in our way, but take a step back, and see how these events color your life. Is it a piece in Staccato? Or a piece in Legato? There are times we are so used to sound that soundlessness feels empty, but this soundlessness is a sound as well.
The air is still when the wind dies. There is only the sound of my breath. I stop. Soundlessness. A silence that speaks more than sound could. Broken by the cry of a lone eagle. Strange. An eagle? I walk on, intrigued by the possibility of another creature wandering on this godforsaken terrain. Over another ridge, the possibility became reality. Tibetan prayer towers, constructed from random stones, with scriptures placed on them. On top of the discordant mess of rock, stood an eagle. Proud. It was white. I approached it and it took off. I felt sorry for disturbing the eagle's rest. A few seconds later the wind howled again. The sound was back. I climbed further on, partly wondering if I had disturbed it or saved it from the gale. Soon I was at the peak of the mountain. Behind me, a sharp slope down and a city beyond. In front of me, a deep valley and the rest of the Himalayas beyond. It was nothing short of beautiful.
These Tibetan prayer towers stand as a testimony of a time when monks climbed up to this very place to meditate. It is not hard to see why. Admist the howling wind and sun-baked terrain, you can only hear yourself. In all that noise and temperature, it is silent. Not a single voice. No rush of mad people fighting for their thoughts to be heard, no rush of mad people fighting for their thoughts to be accepted and no rush of mad people fighting for their thoughts to be accepted. This is a place for the tired. Where scientists come to die, where artists are born. This is a place where you don't have to convince others and hear then clamouring to say utterly nothing. This is a place for the world-weary. A place for the thinker that needs no recognition. For the lone seeker of truth. This is the birthplace of the introspective religion of tibetan buddhism. This is the Himalayas.
This is Shangri-La.
The glaring sun shines against the snow-capped peaks, reflecting a white that hasn't been seen before. It glares back at the sun with almost the same ferocity, but also with a certain dullness. It's a white that is both striking and calm. As I walk on the wooden pathway, the wind rattles the structure and shakes it to its roots. Gingerly walking, I slowly make my way across a ridge, and all at once the world seemed to stop. The wind howled, the pathway rattled, the sun shone on and my breathing was still heavy from the thin air. But for those few moments none of it registered. In front of me, was the Himalayas, the roof of the world. It was a sight to behold. No. I believed at one point I stopped seeing and felt. It was a feeling of awe.
There are many points in life where we hear people or that we ourselves have spoken, of how man is a part of Mother Nature. We speak of it because we know that we depends on her and to some, that we are a part of her. It makes perfect sense and it is reasonable to believe in them. But they are blind statements. Here on this mountain, with only wind, snow, sun, trees and man, humans being part of nature is an experience. It is not a bunch of words scribbled on paper, not the electrical signals that find their way into your screens and ear pieces and not the sound waves that ravel through the air from another's mouth. Like the blind man who has read about the color red through Braille. Here on this mountain, the blind man, for this first time in his entire life, sees the color red. In that instant, nothing goes through his head. It is the child in him that holds in in place, reveling in awe. It is the adult in him that holds him in place, trying to understand this experience using his life's knowledge. At the end of the day he reaches only one conclusion. Whatever Braille said about red, it wasn't even close.
Standing on part of the pathway overlooking the Himalayas range, I place my camera on the handrails of the walkway and took a quick photo of myself. It will serve to remind me of this place in time to come. What I write now will serve to remind me of of the experience I had in this place in time to come. Time is a funny thing. It comes and goes, but here time has little meaning. In a city, a 15min difference can meaning being late for a job interview, and costing you a future career. Here in the Himalayas the difference only means a stronger wind and a higher sun. Nothing here changes, and for once in your life you can only hear yourself.
The winds howl a tune that drown out everything. At this height it's not like there is anything to drown out anyway. But as soon as the wind stopped I realised something. This stop in howling is also part of the larger orchestral piece the winds were playing. The break away from a routine is part of it. When a musician plays, the pauses between notes is just as important as the notes themselves. They determine the pace and the mood of the entire piece. The many pauses and breaks that we take in our life are part of our lives as well. Sometimes we do not get to our goal immediately, sometimes we get to them extremely quickly. There are times we feel distressed that obstacles get in our way, but take a step back, and see how these events color your life. Is it a piece in Staccato? Or a piece in Legato? There are times we are so used to sound that soundlessness feels empty, but this soundlessness is a sound as well.
The air is still when the wind dies. There is only the sound of my breath. I stop. Soundlessness. A silence that speaks more than sound could. Broken by the cry of a lone eagle. Strange. An eagle? I walk on, intrigued by the possibility of another creature wandering on this godforsaken terrain. Over another ridge, the possibility became reality. Tibetan prayer towers, constructed from random stones, with scriptures placed on them. On top of the discordant mess of rock, stood an eagle. Proud. It was white. I approached it and it took off. I felt sorry for disturbing the eagle's rest. A few seconds later the wind howled again. The sound was back. I climbed further on, partly wondering if I had disturbed it or saved it from the gale. Soon I was at the peak of the mountain. Behind me, a sharp slope down and a city beyond. In front of me, a deep valley and the rest of the Himalayas beyond. It was nothing short of beautiful.
These Tibetan prayer towers stand as a testimony of a time when monks climbed up to this very place to meditate. It is not hard to see why. Admist the howling wind and sun-baked terrain, you can only hear yourself. In all that noise and temperature, it is silent. Not a single voice. No rush of mad people fighting for their thoughts to be heard, no rush of mad people fighting for their thoughts to be accepted and no rush of mad people fighting for their thoughts to be accepted. This is a place for the tired. Where scientists come to die, where artists are born. This is a place where you don't have to convince others and hear then clamouring to say utterly nothing. This is a place for the world-weary. A place for the thinker that needs no recognition. For the lone seeker of truth. This is the birthplace of the introspective religion of tibetan buddhism. This is the Himalayas.
This is Shangri-La.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Tempered.
As the world behind burns, the winds' only victims are ashes.
As I walk on, the stones beneath my feet crumble into sand.
As you watch on, the frigidity of our lives is reflected in your eyes.
The sun riseth not on wanion shores.
The cold rain pours down unrelentingly, intent on putting out the fires of the past.
The sand thickens and becomes wet mud, spraying its insults with every step of mine.
I watch as fire, wind and rain ravage my past.
I watch as the mud slows me and makes my every step increasingly harder.
I watch as you watch me with nary a shred of emotion on your face.
Eyes like tempered glass.
A face like tempered steel.
I realise then, that I am looking at something that isn't human.
I realise then, that I am looking at something that has betrayed me.
I realise then, that I am looking at nothing.
The road I have walked and am walking, burns and crumbles.
The monster at my side is walking on his own.
The direction I am heading, is unknown.
As I lament my fate, you nod and smile, but do nothing as I trudge on amidst flames, lightning and mud.
As I see you smile, I look away.
As I look away, I see that on this road, I walk alone.
The rain, fire and wind die down eventually as I walk further on.
The whole time I fixed my eyes on the horizon.
The sun was rising.
I watch as the sun's rays shower warmth on my cold body.
I watch as I see you fight your own fires, winds and rains.
I watch as I find the look of desperation in your eyes when you look at me, and I show you,
Eyes like tempered glass
A face like tempered steel.
As you watch on, the frigidity of our lives is reflected in your eyes.
The sun riseth not on wanion shores.
The cold rain pours down unrelentingly, intent on putting out the fires of the past.
The sand thickens and becomes wet mud, spraying its insults with every step of mine.
I watch as fire, wind and rain ravage my past.
I watch as the mud slows me and makes my every step increasingly harder.
I watch as you watch me with nary a shred of emotion on your face.
Eyes like tempered glass.
A face like tempered steel.
I realise then, that I am looking at something that isn't human.
I realise then, that I am looking at something that has betrayed me.
I realise then, that I am looking at nothing.
The road I have walked and am walking, burns and crumbles.
The monster at my side is walking on his own.
The direction I am heading, is unknown.
As I lament my fate, you nod and smile, but do nothing as I trudge on amidst flames, lightning and mud.
As I see you smile, I look away.
As I look away, I see that on this road, I walk alone.
The rain, fire and wind die down eventually as I walk further on.
The whole time I fixed my eyes on the horizon.
The sun was rising.
I watch as the sun's rays shower warmth on my cold body.
I watch as I see you fight your own fires, winds and rains.
I watch as I find the look of desperation in your eyes when you look at me, and I show you,
Eyes like tempered glass
A face like tempered steel.
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