Sunday, January 16, 2005
Existentialism and Privacy
Until recent times, the classical way of approaching moral philosophy was to begin with a set of universal truths, apply some logical analysis, and arrive at a set of moral principles valid for all people, times, and places. After a few millennia of constant squabbling over what those universal truths might be, a few bright people decided to truck the whole business and start afresh. Consequently, Existentialism was born.
The main principle of Existentialism is that people have no a priori purpose in the world, so they are essentially left to make something of themselves without any real directions on how to do so. This is a subtle point, so it's worth emphasizing. The classic example of something that has an implicit purpose is a knife: someone designed it to cut things, so there's a decent argument for using it that way. On the other hand, marble doesn't appear to have any implicit reason for existence, so it's really up to Nature what happens to it, whether it ends up in a cliff face or a statue of David.
One could point out that man appears to be designed (by analogy with every other living thing) to hang around for a few decades and possibly make a few children in the process. But, to put it honestly, there's no accompanying sheet of instructions that explains to people what they should be doing when not procreating. Hence, according to Existentialism, it really doesn't matter whether you become a doctor or a lawyer or a bum.
The real trouble with Existentialism is that the people who came up with it didn't stop here. They realized that they wouldn't actually have a moral philosophy unless they invented some system of accountability, which materialized in the form of Existential Angst. That is to say, there should be an angst that people feel when deciding how to act because, in the absence of universal truths, one's actions serve as examples to others.
But on further examination, the "angst" is largely a fictional entity. People have Brains in order to think for themselves, which in fact happens with some regularity. If I wanted to have spinach and root beer for lunch every day, I would do so without a care in the world that other people might be tempted to try the same. This is the delicious luxury of not being famous or powerful: also known under the names of "privacy" and "lack of responsibility."
In fact, we value these things precisely because they strip us of the feelings of angst that Existentialism argues we ought to have all the time. It's not only that people have things to hide (we all make mistakes), but the constant thought that someone is watching you is debilitating for many people. Performers call it "nervousness" and speakers call it "stage fright," but the very fact that people only discover it once they appear in front of a large group suggests that it is a particular and unusual emotion, not something that's a part of everyone.
Thus, one is bound to disregard Existentialism (as it stands) as a workable moral philosophy for everyone. But can it be fixed?
Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion next week.
The main principle of Existentialism is that people have no a priori purpose in the world, so they are essentially left to make something of themselves without any real directions on how to do so. This is a subtle point, so it's worth emphasizing. The classic example of something that has an implicit purpose is a knife: someone designed it to cut things, so there's a decent argument for using it that way. On the other hand, marble doesn't appear to have any implicit reason for existence, so it's really up to Nature what happens to it, whether it ends up in a cliff face or a statue of David.
One could point out that man appears to be designed (by analogy with every other living thing) to hang around for a few decades and possibly make a few children in the process. But, to put it honestly, there's no accompanying sheet of instructions that explains to people what they should be doing when not procreating. Hence, according to Existentialism, it really doesn't matter whether you become a doctor or a lawyer or a bum.
The real trouble with Existentialism is that the people who came up with it didn't stop here. They realized that they wouldn't actually have a moral philosophy unless they invented some system of accountability, which materialized in the form of Existential Angst. That is to say, there should be an angst that people feel when deciding how to act because, in the absence of universal truths, one's actions serve as examples to others.
But on further examination, the "angst" is largely a fictional entity. People have Brains in order to think for themselves, which in fact happens with some regularity. If I wanted to have spinach and root beer for lunch every day, I would do so without a care in the world that other people might be tempted to try the same. This is the delicious luxury of not being famous or powerful: also known under the names of "privacy" and "lack of responsibility."
In fact, we value these things precisely because they strip us of the feelings of angst that Existentialism argues we ought to have all the time. It's not only that people have things to hide (we all make mistakes), but the constant thought that someone is watching you is debilitating for many people. Performers call it "nervousness" and speakers call it "stage fright," but the very fact that people only discover it once they appear in front of a large group suggests that it is a particular and unusual emotion, not something that's a part of everyone.
Thus, one is bound to disregard Existentialism (as it stands) as a workable moral philosophy for everyone. But can it be fixed?
Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion next week.
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