On Society and Power

by Alexandros on October 17, 2007

“Something is wrong.” That is the feeling one gets if he observes long and wide enough. It doesn’t take long for most people to get that feeling. What takes longer are the excuses we give to ourselves for not doing anything about it.

The size and complexity of the problems we face today are literally unprecedented. Never in our long evolutionary history were we called upon to solve such problems. In the past, things were pretty simple. Thus, the thought patterns that are most natural to us were developed in response to simpler times. When confronted with today’s extremely complex situations they tend to simplify our problems and suggest solutions that can have ultimately catastrophic consequences.

In an environment that is relatively stable, organisms soon were able to easily recognize the common threats and benefits in it. The ones with the fastest responses to the regular threats and benefits, survived and flourished. What has changed the last couple of thousands of years are not only the environment but also the threats and benefits in it. In addition, the rate with which these things have changed was much faster in comparison to our ability to harmoniously adapt to them.

Thus, it comes as no surprise, that with people moving into cities, and cities growing larger and more complex, and division of labor and stratification reaching unprecedented levels, we have phenomena that are new, either in kind or in scope. The new forms of violence and conflict between men being a rather prominent example.

Thus, with dramatic changes outside of us (environmental, societal etc.) came accompanying dramatic changes within us. Certain types of human beings were extinguished forever, while new ones took their place. Other times archaic forms were replaced with new ones. For example the shaman who combined knowledge of medicine and religion has since given rise to the professional physician, the priest, the psychologist, and psychiatrist.
With the Industrial revolution and the rise of science and technology, the pace of change has increased exponentially. Yet we as human beings, have changed little in comparison. I’m sure this phenomenon has been described by many others in many ways. One way to summarize it could be that our moral progress has not been as fast as our material progress. I know, being aware of the spirit of the times under which I am living at least when it comes to the West, that the mere presence of the word “moral” serves as anathema to many. Cynicism runs rampant everywhere and whenever one even hints at a common ground everybody shouts “difference!”.

Ironically enough, the mere shouting of difference in fact presupposes a deeper similarity because the concepts are logically interconnected. When you say for instance: “This is a different tree than that one,” you inevitably imply that both these things share enough to be called “trees” but it is just that one of them has enough differences to warrant the assertion that it is a different kind of tree – but nevertheless still a tree. On the same vein, even though human beings are different, they still share a common human nature. In fact, it is those similarities that make common life possible and those differences that make it interesting.

Going back to the observation that our moral progress has been slower than our material one, let me add more detail so as to make it more concrete of a statement. Electric light has spread throughout the globe and lights the darkness of people of all colors. Yet the plain truth that it is not the color of one’s skin that determines the quality of one’s character even though recognized for hundreds of years by eminent human beings before the discovery of electric light has still not penetrated the whole of humanity. In short, electric light is more widespread than moral light even though younger in its discovery.

Yet even though few will doubt the importance of eradicating racism for the future of humanity, billions of dollars are poured for new electrical infrastructure and only thousands are spent for moral infrastructure. With our actions we prove that illuminating moral darkness is not our priority.
Morality has a bad reputation. To young people it is usually a collection of seemingly absurd and unjustified restrictions upon their freedoms and desires imposed by others for their own interests. However, there were times and places where morality was of an utmost importance. During Christian times, it was the difference between an eternity in heaven or hell. And in Ancient Greece, your morality, or its synonym and Greek derived word for it, ethics, determined whether you’d live a happy and virtuous life.

The Greeks understood that the best life is not lived in isolation but with others. To live the best life requires thought, effort and imagination. Living well with others was for them an art. They named that art politics.
Politics has a worse reputation than morality. Instead of being considered the art of communal living it is considered the art of manipulation for special interests. Priests and politicians are not trusted anymore, for good reasons. In other words, we do not trust the people who were supposed to save our souls in heaven nor the people who were supposed to help us make heaven on earth.

But science we trust. Because our phones work. So do our cars, most of the time, and our electricity grid. But science cannot tell us how to live. It tells us how to the world is, not how it should be. It has been a recurring dream amongst intellectuals that we use the scientific method to arrive at unshakable conclusions regarding morality as we have done regarding physics. That dream has proven to be a nightmare in most cases, where “science” was used to justify horrible atrocities. If the scientific method aims at the truth, then it cannot but assist us in our search for a better future. But certain scientists tend to overestimate the methods of their own domain, and try to apply the same methods in different domains resulting in absurdities. However, as long as we are cautious in our thinking, the scientific approach will be a useful ally in our quest.

We live in an age where science, technology and the interconnection between nations and industries make our mistakes have serious global consequences. The personal greed of a few individuals can result in the poverty and death of the many. The lessons of history teach us that accumulated injustices create a volatile climate where explosions of blind revenge are not uncommon. Given the havoc that modern weaponry can cause, it becomes all the more necessary to follow the dictates of impartial justice which would undermine any cause for revenge and further an atmosphere of solidarity and trust among nations. Ironically, we also live in an age where the funds and expertise to drastically improve living conditions throughout the planet are available. So common sense begs the question: Why don’t we use our resources and expertise to improve our lives?

The question is not just global. It is local too. Take your city. Why don’t the rich people at the top act as benefactors to the rest of society? Not just in the form of charities that only alleviate urgent problems from time to time. But benefactors in the sense of transforming society to higher levels of general well being. The problem is not the redistribution of wealth, though that could be part of the solution. The problem has to do with how human nature responds to the situation it has found itself in. Lord Acton famously remarked: “Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.” What is it that happens to human beings in power that disables them from acting towards the best interest of the people that entrust them with this power?
The Pharaohs of Egypt wouldn’t have been able to move a single stone if others didn’t assent to their wishes. It is we as a whole that give power to the people who rule us. If soldiers don’t obey their commanders there can be no war. Immense power is based upon consent.

Think of this: Let’s suppose I am strong and skilled enough to beat three to four weak people. I beat them up unless they do as I say. If I beat them all the same, they will eventually conspire against me and assassinate me. If, however, I treat the strongest a bit more fairly and give them certain privileges, they will help me keep my power longer, and even expand it. The more I give to them, the more they trust me and the more they have to lose if I were to be eliminated. This model of social organization (I am not claiming it is the only one) has appeared throughout the centuries. What has changed over time is the amount and kind of privileges trickling down to the rest of the population.

Now think of this: In the distant past the social division of power was pretty obviously demarcated. Everyone in society knew who had the power, where they lived, how they looked like. They even interacted with them, provided you go back enough. Power was usually divided among three groups. The leader at the top had maximum privileges and authority, his minions underneath had less, and the “public” had almost none. If the public was dissatisfied it had to convince the minions that a different social organization ought to be established. However, many times the privileges that the public wanted were already enjoyed by the minions, so the minions had no reason to be motivated to change the existing social organization and risk betraying their leader and losing everything they had. So usually one or more of three things happened. Most of the times, the people within the public pushing for reform were simply killed or put to jail. That “solved” the problem and also acted as a deterrent towards others. If the number of dissenters were bigger and more organized, a prudent leader might recognize that it would be better to give some concessions to the public. That way he would appear gracious and he would avoid conflict. Finally, the first method might have the opposite effect. Instead of acting as a deterrent it would fuel rage and resentment against the leaders and his minions and ultimately lead to a revolution, in which the public simply overthrow the leader and his minions and replace them with a hierarchy that would give them the privileges they wanted.
Funnily enough, at times the revolutionaries would retain the overall structure of society and merely swap places with the ones in power. Other times the structure itself would change allowing for a different distribution in power. That is why the former types of rebellion should be called revolutions and the latter evolutions. There could be another form of rebellion where the group of rebels that get power in fact implement a societal organization that belongs to the past. In that case it should really be called a devolution.

Today however, the amount of groups that comprise society and the different amounts and kinds of power each group holds is much bigger. To believe that society is divided into three classes: Upper class, middle class and low class is simply naive. That is because there are many types of power. A professor might make a modest income but he commands more respect than a plumber who makes more. So the professor might be objectively poorer, but he has more social power than the plumber. So different people have different types of power to lose with the restructuring of the status quo, regardless of where they stand in the social hierarchy. The more groups there are, and the more complex the kinds and types of power that exist within society, the harder it is for a common vision to be found that would mobilize all those groups in restructuring society in a significant way. By now, most Western societies have supplied their public with enough goods, privileges and freedoms that the majority of the public belongs to the middle classes (or wants to think it does). Thus, most people believe that they have too much to risk from a significant restructuring of society, and tend to be supporters of the status quo. Looked at it from this perspective, ironically enough this would mean that the West at the moment contains perhaps the most conservative societies in the world.

While it is true that it has managed to create mechanisms with which reform can be achieved without conflict (voting etc.) it is also true that getting them to move is far from easy. Strangely enough, political issues that have been at the top of the concerns (e.g. universal health care) for most Americans (to take the US as an example) have consistently failed to come up in the political agendas of the candidates. And when they do, they show up in some ridiculously watered down version that is almost an affront to the American people. Even the road to high administrative positions is very difficult if you don’t already belong to the elite. Even though in principle open for all, in practice the examples of people from the gutters of society to emerge to the highest offices are very rare. A casual glance at the background of the vast majority of US politicians proves the point.
When was the last time you helped a stranger? We don’t do it often, do we? When was the last time you helped someone you knew? We do that very often. Does it come as a surprise then, that Western nations genuinely help distant nations of which they have little affinity much less frequently than they help nations they’ve been friends with?

We care more about our friends. We are literally wired by our evolutionary past to care more about people who are close to us because they have more chances of helping us survive than strangers half-way across the globe. When I say close, I mean it in a broad way. Today the internet has showed that people can care about people half-way across the globe provided they become close friends, even though they are far away in terms of physical proximity.
Now think of this: You grow up with a bunch of friends. You go to the same sports and social clubs. You have common friends. You go to the same colleges together. You marry within the same social circle. Then you end up with this same bunch of old friends in government together. Who do you think you are going to help first? The unknown, faceless farmer in the Midwest? Or your childhood friend who has done so much for you and now needs you to cover his back for some misdeed? Who do you think you’re going to grant favors to? Your college buddy or some annoying lobbyist who fights for rights you’ve enjoyed most of your life and thus have never felt the injustice one feels who is deprived of them?

It is the sum of small and big favors to and from friends against the interests of strangers that eventually result in grave national injustices. Satanic conspiracies orchestrated by evil people are usually a very naive way of looking at big problems. They rest on the psychological hope that given that the problem is caused by a handful of people, getting rid of them will get rid of the problem. So the solution seems easy and within reach. If however, the problem is *not* simply the cause of a handful of people but an outcome of an extremely complicated interaction of causes of which even ourselves are implicated, then the solution becomes almost impossible to grasp in its complexity. Conspiracies in fact offer hope because they make sense out of chaos. The truth, on the other hand, is much more complicated and might lead to desperation – unless you develop your mind and will to rise up to this noble challenge.

The heroes of the future are those who will see our problems for what they are and do something about them, rather than die fighting straw men and ghosts.

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The Dancers of Thought

by Alexandros on April 1, 2007

My mind works aphoristically. It comes up with insights about a variety of particular things effortlessly, but it takes me a lot of effort to put those insights together into a coherent system. When I try to put them together, they seem to lose their life. It is the difference between an orderly military march and an improvised dance solo. Though the dancer’s movements are not following the movements of any other dancers, they seem to have an organic harmony of their own; they are spontaneous but not chaotic; they are like the music a master piano player creates while improvising. You cannot necessarily predict the next move by the previous, but the harmony is there. It is not accidental but rather flows from a mysterious creative necessity. It is unclear whether the master follows something or something follows him. It is not the mere novelty that fascinates us, but the leaps of improvement from one pattern to the next. Improvement usually presupposes fixed standards, but the dizziness that comes when reading the mental dances of great thinkers is not solely caused by the speed with which they move within those standards but by those extra steps that transcend them without transgressing them. The great thinkers embody the spirit of the standards; the footprints they leave after their dance make up their letters and their writings.

No one ever danced philosophy like Friedrich Nietzsche. Many philosophers, accustomed to military marches, give up on him and blame him for being contradictory, confused, crazy. But anyone who was fascinated by the dance, and kept trying to learn it like they used to teach music in the old days – by ear and imitation – slowly realized it’s intrinsic order and profundity. We are now living in the tertiary generation of Nietzsche scholarship, and after the clearing of many gross misinterpretations, his importance is now secured in the annals of intellectual history. Even in hard-nosed Anglo-American analytic universities, at least his Genealogy of Morality is seen as an important though eccentric contribution to moral philosophy.
Never had a philosopher stimulated my mind in such diverse ways as Nietzsche. His writings tried to reflect the spirit of the dance of philosophy, not its letter. When I was being tortured by the likes of Heidegger and Hegel on the one side, and Davidson and Wiggins on the other, I used to open a book of The Gay Science in order to escape the morgue of thought for a breath of fresh air. I am not denying that one cannot learn a great deal from dissecting the corpses of thought. But to mistake dissection for philosophy requires you to kill her in the process. And that is what most philosophers have been doing over the last century, killing philosophy and making a living by being the anatomists of thought. No wonder the number of philosophy departments has been shrinking over the years and lay people don’t see its use in everyday life.

I am still plagued by doubts as to whether I should dance or come up with a military formation. I’m trying my feet at both, always experimenting, like my mentor. In the end, they don’t send dancers to the front. Soldiers win the wars – but only dancers know how to celebrate victory.
Philosophy is not just about winning the good life, but celebrating it after you’ve won it. It is not only about dissecting problems, it is also about living the solutions. A philosopher who has remained in the dissecting room is only half a philosopher. He may know the steps, but he doesn’t know how to dance. I’ve been in and out of the dissecting room, but I always felt the difference. The ultimate gift of philosophy is a flourishing life. A life geared towards actualizing the conditions, both inner and outer, for your maturity and the subsequent natural inclination to share its fruits. This is what I’ve been living from the end of 2002. I don’t know exactly how it occurred, but I’ve been trying to find out – it’s not much fun dancing alone, though it’s damn better than not dancing at all.
I belong to those musicians of thought who learned by listening and imitating, till they learned the spirit behind the music, and started to dance to their own, novel music. But many people want to dance to their own music before they know how to play. They want to follow their own drummer before knowing how to follow. They believe learning from another constrains their own creativity. They are fools. They will never become great artists. Because Art requires humility and no child ever lost its creativity by learning a language it did not create.

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Philosophy is not boring!

by Alexandros on February 23, 2007

Philosophy is not boring. It talks about the most important issues in life – and it doesn’t tell you which those are. It is not an order, it is a question. You are supposed to find the answer.

Philosophers who are boring are failing in life. A boring life cannot be a good one. “So what if a philosopher is boring? He may still be a good philosopher.” Yes – only if you subtract one of the main aims of philosophy: Living the good life. That contemporary philosophy is filled with boring professors of philosophy only accentuates Thoreau’s remark:

There are nowadays professors of philosophy, but not philosophers. Yet it is admirable to profess because it was once admirable to live. To be a philosopher is not merely to have subtle thoughts, nor even to found a school, but so to love wisdom as to live according to its dictates, a life of simplicity, independence, magnanimity, and trust. It is to solve some of the problems of life, not only theoretically, but practically. The success of great scholars and thinkers is commonly a courtier-like success, not
kingly, not manly. They make shift to live merely by conformity, practically as their fathers did, and are in no sense the progenitors of a noble race of men. (from Walden)

Someone who has been a philosopher for years should be discernibly different in the things that matter from most people. He has supposedly made it his life’s task to live the good life. If he isn’t living better than most who haven’t set such a conscious goal for themselves, he is evidently not a good philosopher. Philosophy is not just another profession. It is a calling. You cannot be a philosopher from 9 to 5 and be a layman at night. Being a philosopher means being an example of your own philosophy. Walking the talk and talking the walk.
Of course, being a philosopher is a process, as most things are. If someone has just created the ideal to which he wants to strive, it is unfair to expect that he’s going to match it overnight. Because the ideals of philosophy entail the whole way of life. Changing your whole way of life overnight is highly improbable if not completely impossible. But being only a shadow of the ideal you still believe yet have sketched 20 years ago, should raise doubts about your sincerity or your strength of will. Doubts that you should at least have personally raised and examined. That is why philosophies have been called confessions. They are the sublimated confessions of personal struggles to live out ideals; the triumphs and tragedies of human actualization.

To restrict yourself to offering a little nugget of truth (which seems to be the rule among philosophers these days) while living in a fortress of falsehood can hardly be called noble. Will noble remain an honorific term for people who don’t deserve it? Why don’t people aspire to greatness anymore? And why should greatness always be equated with arrogance and conceitedness? Isn’t it time to believe that there is something more than a nihilistic humility? Have philosophers forgotten Kant’s motto? Sapere Aude damn it!

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The fragmentation of knowledge

by Alexandros on February 7, 2007

We are flooded by fragments. Countless bits of information are given to us from everywhere: the media, experts, friends and last but not least – are own experiences. The sheer amount of information is overwhelming for any individual. We thought a solution would be for everyone to concern themselves with only a small portion of reality; this way we would collectively achieve something like a big picture by combining the particular visions of specialists. But who, among a society of specialists, can do that? A collection of short-sighted individuals does not result in collective long-sightedness. We do not live in the details. We don’t live in the big picture either. We live in between and in both, and blindness in one sphere has effects on the others. We may sigh for the past, smile in the present, and cry for the future. We have memory, awareness and vision. We enjoy the thrill of chaos as much as we fear it. We may choose the safety of order yet regret in not avoiding its boredom. We are complex and simple, pathetic and glorious, beautiful and horrendous. A view of our history sometimes fulfils our grandest hopes, other times our worst nightmares.

How do we make sense of it all? From the grand mosaic of life, what is worth our time, which is after all, so short? What are the conditions, both inner and outer, which we should be looking for? How do we know we’ve found them? And if we cannot find them, how can we create them?

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