Posts

Posted on

Epicurean and Christian views of living well

What is the recipe for living well?

September 20, 2013

The recipe for a long healthy life is deceptively simple: eat well, exercise and learn to relax. The scientific consensus about this is clear. A recent study from University of California, San Francisco showed that diet, exercise and stress management can “extend life,” as one recent headline put it.

While the data are encouraging, this is really old news. Similar ideas can be found in many of the world’s ancient traditions, which emphasize moderation, exercise and self-control. One important source is Epicurus, an ancient Greek philosopher who taught the wisdom of a quiet life of moderate pleasure.

Our concern with healthy living and longevity is deeply Epicurean. The term “epicurean” is often connected to the idea of gourmet taste. But Epicurus does not advocate fancy dining. Over-indulgence is a problem. The solution is moderation and simple living.

But are we prepared to embrace the rest of the Epicurean philosophy? His ideas are summarized in four basic ideas that provide a formula for tranquility and happiness. Don’t fear the gods. Don’t worry about death. Remember that good is easy to obtain. And believe that suffering can be endured.

Epicurus downplays religion. He maintains that the gods have better things to do than to afflict or reward us. He also thinks that death is the end of consciousness. When you’re dead, you won’t know it. So there is no reason to fear death.

Instead, we should focus on healthy living. The key is to understand the nature of pleasure and our own desires. We should also remember that terrible things usually don’t last forever. That bit of insight can help us avoid anguish and despair.

The Epicureans thought that proper understanding of the world helped to alleviate anxiety. They were among the first to argue that the world is made up of atoms and that the universe was governed by natural causes. They wanted to remedy the pernicious idea that mysterious powers were at work in earthquakes, storms, and disease.

Epicureans reject idealism. They are not interested in radical schemes for changing the world. They don’t speculate about the afterlife or the end of time. Instead they focus on practical experience, which teaches that moderation and self-control create mental and physical health.

For the Epicurean, the best life is a private life, spent philosophizing in the company of good friends. Ethics, for the Epicureans, is focused on intimate relationships of reciprocal obligation and mutual care.

The Epicureans do not see the need to worry about distant horrors — wars and plagues and disasters — that do not affect us directly. And they warn against getting involved in politics. Ambition and struggles for power cause heartbreak and suffering.

Critics argue that Epicureanism is immoral and irreligious. The Epicureans give up eternal goods in exchange for mortal happiness that will vanish with death. Some claim that Epicureans are small-minded egoists who ignore the need to save the world.

For many centuries, the Christians opposed the Epicureans. The Apostle Paul encountered Epicurean philosophers in Athens in the first century. They seem to have mocked his idea of the resurrection of the dead. This set the stage for further Christian antagonism. Augustine — the fourth century theologian — explains that he was almost convinced that Epicurus was right. But Augustine rejected Epicureanism because he believed what Epicurus did not: that after death, the soul continues to live.

This dispute reminds us that our ideas about living well depend upon what we think about the deepest questions. Religious people might argue that while health and longevity are good, they are not the highest good. Some will even argue that our obsession with health, exercise and longevity are a kind of idolatrous worship of the body.

If there is another life, then physical health and longevity are not the most important thing. But if this is the only life we’ve got, then Epicurus is right: live modestly, eat well and enjoy your friends.

The doctors know what we should do to live a long healthy life. But they can’t tell us what counts as living well. It’s the philosophers and theologians who provide food for thought and mental exercises that help us think about the meaning of life.

Read more here: http://www.fresnobee.com/2013/09/20/3509025/what-is-the-recipe-for-living.html#storylink=cpy

 

Posted on

Syria and morality of gas warfare

Syria prompts reflection on morality of war

September 6, 2013

Secretary of State John Kerry is right to claim that gas attacks in Syria should shock the conscience of the world. The problem is that much of modern warfare should also shock our consciences. Moral reflection cannot be one-sided; and it must be self-critical.

Reflection on the problem of chemical weapons points toward the general question of the morality of war. Why is it wrong to use weapons of mass destruction but not wrong to use other weapons?

The best place to begin thinking about this is the just war theory, a moral framework with deep roots in the Western philosophical tradition. Many of the ideas of the just war tradition are also found in contemporary international law, including ideas about war crimes and crimes against humanity.

The just war theory views some weapons as wrong in themselves. Rape and torture, for example, are rejected as inherently evil. Just warriors should not rape or torture — even if these things might help to achieve victory. Some will claim that, like rape and torture, weapons of mass destruction are intrinsically immoral.

But why are weapons of mass destruction more immoral than good old-fashioned explosives and projectiles? It doesn’t make much difference to those killed and maimed, whether the damage is caused by chemical agents or by shrapnel. It might be that the evil of WMD is that they cause slow, painful death. But this is not always true. Nuclear explosions instantly kill those at ground zero. Gas can be quick. And it is difficult to see why the slow, painful death caused by mustard gas is qualitatively worse than the slow, painful death caused by bullets, bombs and bayonets.

Another argument against weapons of mass destruction is grounded in the worry that these weapons are indiscriminate killers. They cause “mass destruction,” after all.

But the sheer number of casualties is not the primary concern. Rather, what matters is who is killed. Just warriors are allowed to kill enemy combatants — in large number if needed. But just warriors are not permitted to directly target noncombatants.

From this perspective, if poison gas or nuclear weapons could be used in a limited way on a battlefield — only killing enemy soldiers — then they may be permitted. But any weapon that targets noncombatants is wrong, whether chemical or conventional.

Some worry that it is not easy to control chemical weapons. Wind can blow gas into unintended areas. The primary moral concern here is accidental harm to noncombatants. However, the same criticisms apply to conventional weapons. Even precision weapons that aim to avoid collateral damage can end up killing noncombatants. Predator drones are more precise than other weapons. But drones have still killed the innocent.

Others worry about persistent aftereffects of nuclear or chemical weapons. But conventional weapons also leave behind lingering hazards. Unexploded ordnance is a problem, including land mines and bomblets left over from cluster bombing. And dangers may linger when depleted uranium shells are employed. It is not clear that chemical weapons are qualitatively worse than conventional weapons in terms of unintended consequences and persistent risks.

The good news is that the world is responding to some of these dangers. We have worked to destroy our own stockpiles of chemical weapons. That’s progress. But we haven’t signed on to a treaty banning landmines and cluster bombs. And we still possess thousands of nuclear weapons.

Consistency in the morality of war is difficult. It is tempting to make exceptions for “the good guys” and appeal to double standards. But the same principles that condemn the use of chemical weapons in Syria can also be used to condemn American atomic attacks on Japan in 1945. Indeed, these principles can be employed to criticize incendiary weapons, napalm, white phosphorus, depleted uranium weapons, the use of torture and nuclear strategy.

One hundred years ago, the countries that are now condemning the use of poison gas in Syria employed it on the battlefields of Europe.

The nearly universal moral condemnation of the Syrian gas attacks is a hopeful sign that we have made progress in thinking about the morality of war. But we still have a long way to go. Further progress will result from a consistent and self-critical application of just war principles.

Read more here: http://www.fresnobee.com/2013/09/06/3482927/syria-prompts-reflection-on-morality.html#storylink=cpy

 

Posted on

Education and Democratic Citizenship

Education should encourage us to ask critical question

August 23, 2013

Teachers and students return to school anticipating the discovery of new ideas and the creation of new relationships. Empty gradebooks and notebooks promise transformation. But what should we hope for, as we send our kids back to school?

I heard at least one speech this week that emphasized that education is a way to make money. We celebrate the cash value of staying in school and going on to college. But emphasizing the money is a fairly superficial way to sell school to kids and their parents.

The focus on money ignores a key lesson of a good education, which is that money is not the most important thing in life. Sure, some money is needed for a decent life. But a good education should encourage us to ask critical questions about what we value. How much money is enough? How should resources be distributed? What’s an honorable way to make a living? And what’s the value of a culture that worships the almighty dollar?

Another idea about the value of education focuses on teaching kids to use tools and master the basic skills of reading, writing and arithmetic. Mastery of those skills is essential for people who live in a culture that requires basic literacy and numeracy. Computer technology skills are also becoming essential for life in our culture.

But it’s not enough to teach kids how to use tools. We also have to encourage them to think about what those tools should be used for. Ethical tool use begins with understanding the difference between the tool and its uses. A hammer can build. But it can also destroy. Words and ideas can uplift and empower. But they can also fuel violence and hate.

Our culture is often confused about tools. We fetishize our tools, imbuing them with mysterious power, allowing them to control us and the way we think. The emphasis on computers and online technology is a sign of this problem. Technology is not a panacea. It can be misused and backfire. Reading on computer screens is often more superficial than reading on the printed page. Computers make it easier to cheat and plagiarize. And electronic communication often lacks the depth and care of face-to-face conversations.

A good education helps us sort out the difference between those things that have value in themselves (love, beauty, truth, other people, etc.) and those things that do not (money, tools, computers, etc.). A good education helps us understand the relative value of different technologies and methods of communication. A good education empowers us to use these technologies for appropriate ends.

This process of understanding, assessing and prioritizing values is centrally important for citizens in a democracy. Democratic government is another tool that must be judiciously employed. Democracy can be abused by unscrupulous politicians who take advantage of a gullible citizenry. Democracy becomes dangerous when citizens are unethical and uncritical.

Human beings are not born knowing how to govern themselves. We are dependent for much of our childhoods. Our passions and instincts often rule over us, leaving us unable to properly govern ourselves. We are easily seduced and distracted. It takes long practice to learn how to pay attention, get your work done and do the right thing. A good education teaches us how to free our minds and control our behaviors so that we might govern ourselves.

Democratic citizens must learn to question authority, evaluate conventional wisdom, discuss values and deliberate about ideas. Citizens need to understand their rights. They also need to develop the wisdom and virtue so that they might exercise their rights responsibly.

Human beings are not born understanding ethics or politics. Most children do have an innate capacity for truth-telling, compassion and love. But children can also be selfish, close-minded and mean. They can bully others and show undue respect for authority and power. Ethical judgment and democratic values must be taught.

Every fall we entrust our educators with the awesome job of cultivating the next generation. I wish them luck on this difficult and crucial task. We hope that our kids end up with fruitful careers and that they learn to read, write and compute. But mostly I hope that they learn to be critical and virtuous democratic citizens.

Read more here: http://www.fresnobee.com/2013/08/23/3458110/education-should-encourage-us.html#storylink=cpy

 

Posted on

Perspective gained from the mountaintops

August 9, 2013

Summer trips to the mountains can open important vistas. The mountains provoke a sense of the sublime, offering hints of meaning that inspire reflection. Mountain vistas, oddly enough, provide a source for understanding human dignity.

It is important to occasionally observe the slow work of the glaciers, the relentless rush of waterfalls, and the immense temporal vistas of the starry night. It is edifying to lose yourself before the overpowering sublimity of the natural world. Our lifetimes are insignificant when considered from the vantage point of Half Dome. The length of human history is nothing at all when compared with the history of the planet, the solar system or the galaxy.

Romantic poets and philosophers celebrated the experience of the sublime in nature. It is sobering to know that from the standpoint of glacial time, nothing we do matters. But it is possible to be uplifted and inspired in the face of the relentless forces of nature.

Despite what the mountains tell us about our own insignificance, we know that the only thing that matters to us is this meager existence of ours. The glaciers may not care about our passions and ideas. But for each of us, present awareness is of infinite worth. The sublime contradiction between the fullness of consciousness and the fact of our own finitude is the source of deep wonder and thought.

I often ask students at the beginning of the semester whether they know the names of any of their great-great-grandparents. It is not surprising that, for the most part, they do not. The present generation has little need for remembrance that goes back beyond a few decades. We have too much to do today.

The past recedes quickly as we rush toward the edges of our lives. At some point in the not-too-distant future, we will each be forgotten. But the waterfalls will roar and the granite cliffs will silently endure, as the marks we’ve left behind are effaced by the erosion of time.

How does such an awareness of our insignificance and the experience of the sublime connect to our understanding of ethics?

One response to the sublime is to “seize the day.” A sense of your own finitude can drive you to want to live the present moment to the fullest. Time is short. So make the most of every second. But we ought to avoid nihilistic hedonism and egoistic preoccupation. An ethical approach to seizing the day teaches us to live aware and engaged, embracing the totality of experience, without narcissistic self-absorption.

Another response to our fragile mortal existence aims to develop reverence for the past and a sense of gratitude toward those who paved the way. This is a feature of many religious traditions which commemorate ancient stories about those who came before. An ethic of remembrance attempts to slow the onslaughts of time, insisting that the past has meaning.

Awareness of our own mortal frailty should also lead toward deep reverence for life. If this is the one and only opportunity for life that each of us gets, then we should work to make things better, especially for those whose lives are miserable and even shorter than our own.

The philosopher Immanuel Kant once suggested that two things filled him with awe and wonder: the starry skies above and the moral law within. The most amazing aspect of the experience of the sublime in nature is that we are able to conceive it. No other creature has a sense of the depths of time, understands the work of the glaciers or recognizes the movements of the planets. Human consciousness is a rare and precious gift in the vast and unconscious cosmos.

Likewise, no other creature is able to think about the meaning of existence and the questions of ethics. We are the only beings in the universe who conceive right and wrong, good and evil. That wonderful capacity for moral reflection is what imbues human life with dignity.

The mountains are majestic. The work of glaciers is awesome. The thundering waterfalls are inspiring. But there is nothing on earth comparable to the majestic and awesome thunder of the human mind that witnesses these wonders.

 

Posted on

Taking pity on the weak and defenseless

July 26, 2013

The National Institutes of Health is retiring most of its chimpanzees from research. The director of the NIH, Francis Collins, explained that although similarities between chimps and humans has made chimps valuable as research subjects, this very likeness shows the need for greater justification in using them in research. If they are like us in terms of cognitive, social, and emotional experience, it is difficult to justify using them in ways that we wouldn’t use human beings.

This leads to some deep questions about our supposed superiority to animals and the justification of using animals for our benefit. We are like animals in many ways — in physiology and genetic constitution, for example. We reproduce, enjoy basic pleasures, and live in social groups. We explore our environments and become attached to others. While those similarities help explain the usefulness of animal models in research, they also indicate the need to be judicious in using animals.

While animals and humans share many capacities, only human beings seem to be aware of our moral obligations to other species. Our superiority to animals — if there is such a thing — is found in our ability to reflect on morality and our ability to imagine ways to use tools and other species.

This idea has deep roots. Plato tells a creation story in which the Titan, Prometheus, distributed powers and talents to various animals. Some got fur. Others got wings. And so on. By the time Prometheus turned to human beings, all the gifts were given away. Human beings were weak and defenseless, without fur, claws or hooves. As Plato puts it, we were left naked, unshod and unarmed.

But Prometheus took pity on us and gave us gifts that he stole from the gods, knowledge of fire, other technologies and agriculture. The gods punished Prometheus for giving us these god-like capacities. Prometheus’ Titanic pity for humans is a symbolic example of the pity felt for a lower species that is weak and defenseless.

The idea of taking pity on weak and defenseless members of another species is an important one. Some ancient philosophers argued for vegetarianism and against animal cruelty along these lines. The followers of Pythagoras argued that animal cruelty makes us insensitive to suffering and that by pitying the beasts we develop compassion, which can help us develop compassion for human beings.

Most Western religion and philosophy didn’t follow Pythagoras toward his vegetarian conclusion. But the animal question returned occasionally. In the 10th century, for example, Muslim scholars in Baghdad produced a fascinating story in which animals and humans argue before the King of the Jinn. The animals complained that human beings had no pity on them — forcing them to work, stealing their babies and killing them.

The text is very sympathetic to the animals’ complaint. But it concludes that humans are superior to animals because only human beings become sages, saints and prophets. The text also notes that saints and sages often chose to live apart from other human beings — as hermits residing in the wilderness. The best human beings appear to recognize that animal company is often preferable to the corrupt company of cruel and vicious human beings. Furthermore, many of those saints and sages are remarkably kind to animals. The best humans may be those who do not lord their superiority over the beasts.

If we really are superior to animals, that superiority gives us greater responsibility to avoid being cruel to those who are at our mercy. It might be that the truly superior human being is the most modest and the most kindhearted, especially when it comes to the treatment of inferior, dependent and vulnerable animals.

The NIH’s chimp retirement plan recognizes that the suffering of members of other species matters. It is a good thing that we are developing a kind of Promethean pity for those animals who depend entirely upon our mercy. I hope the chimps enjoy their retirement.

But is compassion for animals enough? Pity for weak non-humans is wonderful. But we have even stronger obligations to pity weak and dependent humans, including children, the disabled and our own aged population. A truly superior human species would treat vulnerable members of our own species as well as we treat animals — and vice versa.