The Pursuit Of Knowing: Thoughts On American "Ignorance" (Part 2)

"Never make promises you have no intention of keeping."

I see the finger wagging in my face. I hear the sternness of the voice. I feel my self-esteem sinking to new lows.

I admit I've not kept my promise to complete in a timely fashion a discussion I began about knowledge and ignorance in the United States. This is more the result of time constraints than it is of neglect, or even avoidance. I've been busy. Not that I offer this as excuse. It's offered as fact. Plain, simple.

In haste, let me complete what I set out to do. In my last essay (see above link) I noted that in an admittedly simplistic study of the opinions of more than a dozen Americans chosen from a variety of intellectual and social classes, I found that the majority opinion was that scholastic achievement was worthwhile for its eventual financial benefit to each student. Learning was preparation for earning.

This, of course, is suggestive that money justifies one's academic achievement: higher pay suggests higher aptitude. Such an idea reduces learning to pragmatics, where one learns in order to practice the art of meriting a high (or higher) financial status.

The bitter pill in all of this, as shown perhaps most clearly in my former students' resistance to learning at all, is that money is the accreditation of a person's role: it is assumed that one's salary like one's diploma is proven by grades, even pay grades. "Low" role, low pay; "high" role, high pay. The bitterness, though, comes not with the realization that this is bunk. It comes when we see those folks deemed apparently intellectually inferior -- think my students' idolized rock stars -- achieve great fiscal prosperity.

(That we also suck the life out of learning for more inspired purposes is part of the double-edged sword here. Many believe their great learning is purely for attaining wealth; when they don't achieve it, they surely do not call themselves stupid. Blame is often cast elsewhere, giving the lie to the "learning equals earning" philosophy. And then those who do achieve great wealth without the suitable intellectual credentials are chided for not earning their wealth for more noble, even cerebral, purposes. They are deemed dumb or called cheaters; their work is dismissed as tawdry or even low-brow.)

Indeed, when "dumb" folks do achieve great financial success, we get commentary like the essay which began our discussion here at Contratimes. For surely that is why country star Kellie Pickler is picked on: She is apparently too stupid to have justifiably earned her great wealth and notoriety. That Ms. Pickler is singled out is curious, especially when "great wealth" is almost ALWAYS a reason the media (yes, even the New York Times) seek the political and cultural opinions and thoughts of various folks. Media do not turn to Madonna or Oprah or Tereza Heinz-Kerry or Donald Trump because they are intellectuals, or even bright. Media turn to them because they are rich, and are thus assumed to be bright.

Unfortunately for those like Ms. Pickler, some in the media miss out on at least some of the grace extended to Madonna. Surely Susan Jacoby and Patricia Cohen have not sought her opinion on the state of education in America or the Bush administration's policies in Israel. Her success is probably in the wrong sort of place to win an interview: she's too countrified for the urbane.

My broader point throughout this whole discussion is that those who condescend to even consider the "stupid Americans" ignore two things. First, that technology, the product of the brightest and best applications of the human mind, has created a paradox: human intelligence creates artificial intelligence, thus permitting humans to become dumber. Memory is now digital memory; computation is done not in the head, but in RAM. Our intelligence has made us stupider, in a sense.

Second, what is ignored is the compartmentalization or specialization of knowledge. Like St. Paul's analogy of the body of Christ, the corporate body of culture and state is made up of various and necessary parts, each doing their various functions. Any state that was all brain, just like a person that was all brain, would not function. A culture that was only arms, or only feet, would end in a quick death. Diversity of knowledge is necessary in the body, as is specificity: Lungs and hearts and pancreas all need to know what is essential for them to function, but they NEED NOT KNOW what the other organs must know.

That is why we all bring our cars to mechanics for repair, and not to Ms. Cohen. We bring our bodies to doctors who are specialists, and we don't care if they know the capital of Turkey. I do not need a lawyer who understands specific gravity; I do not need a hair stylist who can toss out Latin phrases. The man who empties my neighbor's septic tank (mine is always fine) is doing a very necessary job; his work is not one whit enhanced if he knows the difference between a libretto and an aria. In a functioning society, knowledge is distributed according to need.

And that is an interesting point, I think. One can hardly think of a culture surviving or thriving on the strength of the generalist, that person who knows a lot about a lot, but not enough of any one thing to be an expert. Such a well-rounded individual may indeed make a great conversationalist, but beyond that, one can't really find much essential value in the generalist. Imagine a bodily organ that can do a little of everything; imagine a body consisting of only a bunch of generalized organs. Common sense tells us that such a body generally would die quite quickly, and would be a mediocre body at its most vital best. A healthy body NEEDS a diversity and hierarchy of knowledge.

THREATS TO LEARNING

I made mention (here) of the irony that certain liberal thinkers bemoan the demise of academic and intellectual excellence. The irony, of course, is rooted in the liberalism touted by many of America's critics: liberals are devoted to radical egalitarianism and radical individualism. That these two are more often than not in opposition hardly matters. What matters, ultimately, is first that everyone in the classroom (particularly) defines for him or herself what constitutes "achievement," "value," and "purpose;" and second, that everyone ends up at the same level. "Over-achievement" should be a vapid redundancy, but it isn't: over-achievers are indeed often if not always seen as oddities and aberrations to liberal conformity. The goal of education in many liberal minds is the equality of outcomes: every kid on every team gets a trophy.

Learning, then, becomes less about individual greatness and more about bland and comfortable conformity -- where no one gets hurt, where no one stands out. And where no one gets paid too much. No wonder Americans are (allegedly) dumb. They don't want to be envied; and, furthermore, liberal thinkers don't want anyone to envy.

WHY LEARN?

I once talked to a colleague about the reason for learning, and he recalled a teacher of his who inspired his students to learn by appealing to hedonism: You can seduce more women, you can enjoy more of life's Epicurean delights, if you master literature (so you can recite poetry), music (so you may serenade), mathematics and economics (so you can excel in managing large and seductive portfolios), athletics (so you can be heroic and fit), science (so you look progressive), and so on; all for the purposes of securing and maximizing pleasure.

No doubt this appears a better philosophy of learning than mere fiscal ambition or foolish equalizing. But surely it is not the sort of thing one might want to share in public.

This writer, if pressed, would answer that his personal learning is motivated not only by a need for financial security (nor do I believe it off limits to learn in order to get the most out of life), learning is ultimately about overcoming error and deception. It's about seeing what REALLY IS. It's about avoiding the damnation of ignorance, or even revolt. I learn in order to be a more able bodied and able minded person; I learn to improve the lot of others; but I learn mostly because I do not want to fall prey to deception. I learn because I want to be free.

Not that I've achieved clairvoyance. I probably don't see what REALLY IS. But I am trying. At least, I am learning to try.

(I will leave it that this hardly amounts to a philosophy worth sharing.)

Peace to you,

©Bill Gnade 2008/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

On Belief: My Great Protest

My dear readers,

I've been too busy to write here, but I have not been away from blogging. I won't steer you toward what I've been up to -- elsewhere -- but I will say that I am tired. My fatigue is not the kind one feels after some arduous task or struggle; rather, it is the kind one feels from spending too much time in one's head.

Suffice it to say, I am tired of trying to sound convincing.

________________________

Why do any of us believe what we do believe?

________________________

A Tangent

A few questions come to mind. They emerge randomly to me; they carry no import of any expedience. They just merely show up, bowing their heads while standing atop a ball: ?????

• If Jesus the Christ is real, and if He was a blogger, what would He blog about? What tone would He take?
  
• If Christ accepted comments at His blog, what would be the first question you'd ask?
• If Satan is real and he had a blog, what would he write about? What question would you ask him?
• If there is a God, does He love Satan? If so, why? If not, why not?

Ahh, the questions seem so silly once I write them down. They do not hit me as being more than the ruminations of a sophomore. But I wonder.

_______________________

THE QUESTION EXPLORED

Why DO we believe what we do? Is it not a matter of desire, of will? Do I believe in Christ merely because it is my desire to do so? Is belief nothing more than an act, a choice, a decision?

My non-believing friends, be they atheists or agnostics or materialists or empiricists, inform me that the cosmos possesses no inherent "meaning." In other words, there is nothing of religious import -- or the equivalent -- in the universe that exists independent of human consciousness. Moreover, there is no meaning or purpose not only intrinsic or extrinsic to the universe, there is no equivalent in human consciousness: there is nothing in your thought-life that impels you -- by force of law, rule or precept -- to think certain ways. You can, pretty much, do whatever you believe is right, meaningful and purposive. Ultimate meaning and purpose is up to you: the object of your adoration, worship or motivation is yours to create, and you need not even create a thing.

This, at least to me, is the materialist/atheist worldview in a nutshell. It is an idealism of mammoth proportions, for it only exists in the human mind and that mind is the only place it can ever exist.

And yet ...

I wonder if it's true? For I note that now that I've written down this great truth about the cosmos -- that no truth exists independent of the mind who creates or at least affirms it -- there seems to be some possibility -- however remote -- that the very act of communicating this truth -- by merely writing it down -- renders the truth false. The proposition "All minds find meaning on their own terms" appears to this writer as something quite like an absolute that transcends any individual mind, for it is meant to apply as the law of all minds. In other words, there is something extrinsic that binds humans together: Humans must create. There is no exception. You have no choice in the matter. And I communicate this to you: you do not find it for yourself.

That seems rather problematic.

Moreover, if I say that morality is always evolving, that an individual's personal ethics are shaped by the expectation of any social group in which an individual exists, I must admit that morality is absolutely always evolving, mustn't I? And if I admit that, then I must admit other absolutes, like what was once preferred is not now preferable; what was once good is now not; humans must change; standards are dynamic and never static. Of course there is something static, e.g., humanity, evolution, society (as a concept), and choice: humans (static) evolve (static) in society (static) willingly (static).

Have I, as I wrestle through all of this, merely mangled my arithmetic? If humans MUST create, then there is no choice; if humans evolve by willing to create, then choice is real. Irrespective of my apparent fallaciousness, the assumptions are meant absolutely: they are not created.

But none of this matters. What matters is that I do not see how to explain why a person believes what he or she does independent of that person's will. I can never, ever present a case for the truth of Christianity that could be described as irresistible. I think such a thing impossible. And I note that those who aim to discredit Christianity or theism cannot possibly argue from a position of absolute compulsion, either. There is nothing any of us can say to each other that can change another's heart. We believe, and belief is a choice.

Perhaps, then, a good question in debating another person about God's existence or non-existence is to ask what it is our interlocutor desires? What does he or she want to believe? What sort of universe do they want to accept? For if an atheist, for example, says to me that he wants his beliefs in the universe to conform to what the universe is as described and defined by science, then he is admitting that his beliefs come from outside him: he is saying that something that he did not create defines his beliefs: he can't help but submit to reason and the hard, brute facts afforded him by his senses and the scientific method. But surely this is utterly unhelpful, because now we are back where we started: we do not create meaning. Instead, the universe gives it to us -- and we submit. Absolutely. Or, so we should.

Have you ever been stymied by that person who tells you that all truth, logic and meaning are subjective, and then berates you for being a Christian, calling Christianity a "lie?" I sure have. And I am quick to note that if all truth is subjective, then, it follows that Christianity is -- at least for me -- one of those subjective truths. And if it is a subjective truth, then why is my subjectivist interlocutor critical of my choice? Or does his subjective quest for meaning include his right to be critical: he derives further meaning by berating my freely chosen worldview? How, pray tell, can my choice be wrong or even inferior? What, does it fail to correspond to some objective truth? What is that truth, how do we know it, and why are we discussing subjectivism if there is in fact an objective truth?

Such puzzles.

I am left, of course, nauseous, just like Mr. Sartre, as I consider these conundrums. But despite the nausea, I fight, nay, I WILL to believe in a universe that is fundamentally rooted in purpose, the purpose of love. I choose to believe in a universe that can and will answer our deepest questions; I choose to believe in a universe where all goodness, beauty, joy, bliss, art, genius, justice, laughter, music, color, taste -- and so many more lovely things -- are not crushed into oblivion. I choose to believe like Friedrich Nietzsche that suffering makes humanity heroic; and I believe with him that life is everlasting. But unlike that great atheist, I refuse to believe that human heroism ends in nothingness, crushed in the vast emptiness forever forsaken, cast into some unconscionable hell; nor do I believe that life recurs in some endless and vicious circularity, where we can live out our futility ad infinitum in Nietzsche's "Eternal Recurrence."

I recall once reading in The Boston Globe a review of the lovely film about Sts. Francis and Claire, "Brother Sun, Sister Moon." The capsule review, wherein the film was given one star, included this: "A film only a saint could love." I remember sneering at the reviewer's smug and ridiculous words. For latent in the remark was nothing but disdain for the holy. I retorted, "What sort of person would not want to be a saint? What sort of person gives the pursuit of holiness but one star?"

In a meaningless universe, where holiness means nothing, where love is but a dream and a whim, I protest with all due rebellion: "This is my pride -- to believe in a lie that is more beautiful than the truth! I shall be a saint!"

The empty universe does not deserve such a compliment.

Peace to you, this day, and forever.

BG

©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.