WHADYA THINK ABOUT THAT?

Let us agree that human geography is multi-faceted, to say the least. Everybody has stories: where they came from, successes and failures, comedies and tragedies. Some are extroverted, some introverted, some rich, some poor, ad infinitum. Multi-faceted indeed.

Of all the things that people might say about themselves, the thing that fascinates me most is what they think about the “big questions” and how they came to think what they do. Big questions such as what they make of being conscious on this earth in this universe. Purpose and meaning. Origins. Human nature. Good and evil. Why anything exists at all. Stuff like that.

There are at least two obstacles to engaging in such discussions. The first is that, in our time and place at least, people are private about such things. I have no idea why that is, but it is. Maybe it’s because those metaphysical questions are ultimately religious questions, and religion is a taboo subject these days. Maybe it’s because people are confused about such things, or guilty about something, or maybe angry. Maybe people don’t want to talk about that stuff because they are so used to those questions being a prelude to some kind of sales talk, often a proselytizing attempt. Nobody enjoys that. Talk about the weather instead.

The second obstacle, at least according to one of my sons, is that nobody even thinks about those questions. “You are an anomaly,” he said to me. “You are the only guy I know that talks like that.” My response is that everybody thinks about big questions because being a human being forces you to think about them. Granted, not many people read philosophy books (or any books); not many people look up the sky at night and wonder how we got here; big questions are not the subject of daily discourse, except maybe in bars and some classrooms. People are not literate regarding these issues. In spite of that, I think we all have to think about large metaphysical issues because our own humanity forces us to.

For instance. We have all heard people arguing. (Does that sound like CS Lewis?) In all arguments, there is an appeal to something that is true, to a standard. Which begs the question, what is true? Whose standard? And nobody ever says, well to hell with your truth (perhaps the Donald excepted), I’ve got my own truth. Nobody ever says, to hell with your morality, I’ve got my own morality. They might think that they’re saying that, but if they really believed that, they wouldn’t argue. There would be no point; the fact that people argue at all necessarily implies that some things are true and others are not, some things are right and some are wrong. And right there, philosophy is happening. A “big question” is being wrestled with, perhaps crudely and in a poorly informed way, but it is being wrestled with.

Or take child rearing, which is guaranteed to make a philosopher out of anybody. You beget another being—a miracle right there—and that other humanoid doesn’t do what it should. 100% guaranteed. It knows the law, it breaks it the law. Happens every time. And now you, because you are human parent, are forced to wrestle with a big question, namely human nature. Maybe the question of good and evil to boot. You are forced to do philosophy. Should you appeal to that child’s reason on the assumption that reason is infallible, immune to passion? Should you smack his ass because you are a materialist who believes in classical conditioning? Should you demand that the little bugger confess and repent, on the assumption that he is sinful? Maybe try an exorcism? Human nature. Right and wrong. Good and evil. The big questions are inescapable.

When we were in Calgary last week we had a 15 minute conversation with the guy next to us in the RV park. We didn’t get around to “big questions”, but his outlook on life was nevertheless quite clear. I think he needs to be the subject of my next post because hey, it’s only 11 am by the lake here and what else am I gonna do all day?

In the meanwhile, you must agree with me: if you are a human, you are a philosopher. If you disagree, you are only proving my point. Ditto if you think I’m being arrogant; of course arrogance is aberrant and abhorrent…how do we know that? Is there some kind of law somewhere that prohibits arrogance?

Maybe I’ll just be quiet now. My wife gets tired of such talk, and she’s probably not the only one. Think I’ll watch the birds for awhile.