Thoughts 11 Jan 2022

 

The Matter With Things

Iain McGilchrist

Total independence is an imaginary construct, the limit case of interdependence, which is universal. And the whole is shot through with purpose (a notion, by the way, that has nothing to do with some sort of engineering God), and endlessly creative, not pointless and passive. This cosmos is one from which we are never separate, but out of which we arise, in which we dwell, and to which, finally, we return.

The Matter With Things

Iain McGilchrist

My ultimate aim is to contribute a new perspective from which to look at the fundamental ‘building blocks’, as we think of them, of the cosmos: time, space, depth, motion, matter, consciousness, uniqueness, beauty, goodness, truth, purpose and the very idea of the existence or otherwise of a God. . . . Of course, these are vast topics, ones that have been grappled with by the ablest human minds for millennia; naturally I don’t presume to try to settle the disputes that have arisen. Moreover, I am very far from being the first person to argue that the prevailing view is badly mistaken. But I do believe that the [brain] hemisphere hypothesis casts a very revealing new light on those disputes and strongly suggests that the view that has prevailed – a view heavily indebted to a belief in reductionism – very seriously distorts the evidence of the nature of reality that is before our eyes if only we would attend to it fully. It provides a genuinely new and compelling context in which to revisit these issues, one that may encourage us toward very different conclusions.

The Price of Peace

Zachary D. Carter

“Underlying most arguments against the free market is a lack of belief in freedom itself,” Friedman wrote. “A free market” was “a system of economic freedom and a necessary condition for political freedom.”

This equation of the "free market" and "economic freedom" as a "necessary condition for political freedom" bamboozled a lot of people. In short: it isn't. This isn't to say that markets aren't often useful (they are) or that decentralized economic decision-making implied by markets isn't efficient (it can be), but to equate economic decision-making with political decision-making is a category mistake.

The Shape of Ancient Thought

Thomas McEvilley

Zeno, or possibly Chrysippus, introduced yet another distinction within the “indifferent” class, that of appropriate and inappropriate actions (making, finally, seven categories of actions: virtuous, preferred, appropriate, indifferent, inappropriate, avoided, vicious). The distinction between appropriate and inappropriate actions is again one which the Cynics rejected. It was primarily a concession to social stability, a concern of the Stoics which the Cynics did not share.

The Inevitability of Tragedy

Barry Gewen

Indeed, anyone who had lost patience with traditional politics and was looking for a new direction was a potential Nazi. They were the “catchall party of protest,” calling for people to put aside social divisions and class differences for the sake of a larger ideal, the nation, the Volk. The message had enormous appeal to any unaffiliated (and non-Jewish) voter, and to students and the young, who provided the party with its bustling energy, it was a political elixir.

The Inevitability of Tragedy

Barry Gewen

Coming from a country [Germany] where “the people” had overridden all legal processes for the sake of what was viewed as the common good, she [Hannah Arendt] was highly sensitive to maintaining the role of law in society. And that role, pace [Sidney] Hook, was definitely not to enforce some notion of morality, which was a private matter and which she knew—obviously with Nietzsche whispering in her ear—could be defined any which way, depending on the momentary mood of the public. Hook’s government-enforced morality was a path on the way to the thought police and the midnight knock at the door. Against the vicissitudes of popular opinion, the law, developed through reason, persuasion, and judgment, provided stability and protection for the individual. The critics never really did understand her distinction between state and society. “Metaphysical mumbo jumbo,” one of them contemptuously called it. But then he had never experienced—or couldn’t even imagine—the damage that a tyranny of the majority could wreak (and he received an even more contemptuous flick of the wrist from Arendt in response).

Philosophical Intimations

James Hillman

Where is this unconscious today? Where do the roots suffer? Where are the sparks of Sophia buried in our present world’s darkness? Attention to them is Jung’s therapy of culture.

Doom

Niall Ferguson

Contrary to popular belief, Chesterton did not say, “When men stop believing in God, they don’t believe in nothing. They believe in anything.” The nearest thing is in his short story “The Miracle of Moon Crescent”: “You hard-shelled materialists [are] all balanced on the very edge of belief—of belief in almost anything.”

A Review of Antifragile: Things That Gain from Disorder by Nassim N. Taleb

Probably every book authored by Nassim Taleb should include a warning label. It should state something like the following: 

Warning: The following book may be hazardous to your health. Exposure to this material may cause irritation, anger, outrage, or other severe emotional disturbances. In addition, it may change your mind.

To those who aren’t acquainted with the Taleb, you should know that he is a native of Lebanon, where he grew up in a prominent and Christian family during the civil war. He came to the US and attended Wharton business school. After completion of his MBA, he went to work in the banking and investment industry. After having made sufficient money (“f--- you” money, as he terms it), he became an independent scholar and writer. He is at once innovative and very cantankerous. While at times I can find I find his style abrasive, as he liberally hands out insults and putdowns, he nevertheless always seems to provide mind (and practice) altering insights. So, if you read this latest of his books, Antifragile, you stand forewarned of this risk.

Taleb started his career as a popular writer talking about probability, and he made a very big splash when he published his book, The Black Swan, which discusses the impact of the highly improbable in markets and in life. Philosophically, he’s dealing with the problem of induction, the kind of thinking that says all we ever see are white swans, therefore, all swans are white. For Europeans, that was true until they went to Australia and discovered black swans. Induction has its flaws. 

In Antifragile, Taleb builds on his previous work and argues that while some things are fragile (e.g., a china cup) and some things are robust (e.g. the Timex watch that “can take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’”), other things are antifragile. Antifragile things actually gain from volatility (shocks or disturbance). The outstanding example that Taleb identifies is evolution, where a certain amount of volatility allows for change. Taleb is quick to point out that things that are antifragile can only withstand a certain degree of volatility. In other words, there can be too much of a good thing. In fact, this is one of the intriguing issues left open by the book: even for systems that could benefit from increased volatility, such as an economy, how do we determine the amount of volatility that we should condone (assuming we can control volatility)? Taleb seems to support (although he does not address the issue directly in the book that I recall), allowing the economy its ups and downs. This hands-off approach makes a certain amount of sense—up to a point. However, in a situation such as we have experienced since 2008, should we really allow market mechanisms to run willy-nilly without any intentional interference on our part? This is something that I don’t think he addresses, yet he suggests, following up laissez-faire economic line of thinking, that this would be correct. He does not directly address the argument of Keynes. Taleb, I think, knows that Keynes had keen insights into issues of probability and uncertainty and humility about our lack of knowledge about the economy. Taleb doesn’t provide or even address the issue of how to provide us with a heuristic or principle by which to judge the amount of volatility we should actively tolerate.

I find his thinking persuasive in the field of medicine, for instance, where a little bit of volatility or exposure to negative influences, such as germs, actually enhances our immune system and makes it stronger. Taleb mentions that he puts it drop of tap water on his tongue when he comes to visit India, which makes a fair amount of sense. Again, the challenge seems to be engaging the right amount of disturbance to tolerate or promote. The same goes for physical training, when we subject ourselves to a stressor, such as weights, and our body reacts by stronger. Our body exhibits antifragility by adapting to the insults of a heavy (beyond normal) weight. Too much weight, however, or an insufficient recovery time, will actually harm the body, causing injury or a failure to thrive. Again, the question is how much is enough or how much is too much.

Taleb also understands the potential ethical problems with his perspective. He is not suggesting that we through the less fortunate over board in order to allow untrammeled volatility in society or the economy (essentially the idea of Social Darwinism). Furthermore, he makes a very persuasive ethical argument that decision-makers should have “skin in the game”. In other words, “banksters” should suffer losses as well as gains when their bets go wrong, as they did so terribly in 2008. Under the existing system, Wall Street was in a “heads we win, tails you lose” mode. The situation was made worse by government bailouts that created moral hazard (although to my mind, the bailouts, while odious, were necessary). Again, I think Taleb skirts some of the bigger issues, but his overall perspective adds an important element of consideration as to how we should run economy and society.

Following are couple of quotes that are worthwhile:

The Italian political and legal philosopher Bruno Leoni has argued in favor of the robustness of judge-based law (owing to its diversity) as compared to explicit and rigid codifications. True, the choice of a court could be a lottery – but it helps prevent large-scale mistakes. (90)

For those readers who wonder about the difference between Buddhism and stoicism, I have a simple answer. A stoic is a Buddhist with attitude, one who says “f*** you” to fate. (153)

As to the first quote about the common law, I think there is a good deal of truth in that. The argument between the English (and American, Indian, etc.) legal systems and those of the Continent have been over the use of codes versus judge-made law. While the U.S. has moved to greater use of codes, we still have a benefit in judge-made law that should improve the flexibility of our legal system. 

As to the second quote, about Buddhism and Stoicism, I’m still looking for a good comparison, because I think that there is a close relationship, in attitude, if not in genealogy. His passing comments fails to say enough, buy it is tantalizing. 

Overall, it’s a very worthwhile and important book. Laugh and snicker when he rails against those whom you also dislike, and ignore him when he offends you, and you’ll gain all the benefits without suffering the warned-against side effects.

Gandhi: Two Books to Guide

Sitting alone in a motel room one night in Hawarden, Iowa, after working a long day blacktopping roads, I turned on the TV and came across a movie about this man Gandhi. I only caught the end, but I learned that he was a saintly man and that when mortally shot by an assassin, he uttered the words “God, God, God”. (To what extent this is accurate, I don’t know, although I think that the actual recitation would have been “Ram, Ram, Ram”.) In any event, I don’t recall if I’d heard of this man before, but the brief exposure the film piqued my curiosity. (N.B. This was well before Richard Attenborough’s 1982 film biography, Gandhi.) I went on to read Louis Fisher’s biography, The Life of Mahatma Gandhi (1948) and then Erik Erickson’s Gandhi’s Truth: On the Origins of Militant Nonviolence, a consideration of Gandhi from Erickson’s unique psychoanalytic perspective. After that flurry of interest, college and an introduction to a wider world of ideas and experiences led me off in other directions—until now, when I find myself in Gandhi’s homeland. I look upon his continence each time I hold a piece of paper money. 

The 20^th century is marked by a handful of titanic political figures. Hitler, Stalin, and Mao comprise a trio of titanic evil marked by war, genocide, and mass murder. Yet each is a complex, daunting, and fascinating human being embedded in their unique times and cultures. Franklin D. Roosevelt and Winston Churchill were titans in liberal democracies who rose in response to the crisis of the Great Depression (FDR) and WWII (WSC). Each led his respective nation into and through the war. Together they led their nations into a mutual alliance that triumphed by the end of the 20^th century. Both of them were immensely complex figures, certainly not angels, but canny politicians and strategic thinkers. And then there is the titan Gandhi. Gandhi, the rather unassuming young man turned barrister, turned activist, turned ascetic, turned politician, turned saint, turned father of the nation. One might argue that he proves more difficult to grasp than any of the other titanic political figures of the 20^th century. 

Two books of late, both by authors who attended and presented at JLF, have provided me with new insights into Gandhi. Richard Sorabji’s Gandhi and the Stoics: Modern Experiments in Ancient Values (2012, 203 p.) delves into Gandhi’s thought through the lens of the ancient Stoic philosophies. In Sorabji, a British academic born of Indian immigrant parents, one could not find anyone more qualified person to make this comparison. Sorabji is a revered scholar of ancient philosophy and a wonderfully precise thinker and writer. Sorabji makes his case through careful consideration of Gandhi’s writings and Stoic teaching, while acknowledging from the beginning that Gandhi was not acquainted with Stoic thought (except perhaps to the extent of some fleeting exposure to Epictetus). While Sorabji cannot locate any direct Stoic influence on Gandhi, he does note a number of other well-documented influences: Socrates, Jesus (Mathew’s Gospel and the Sermon on the Mount, in particular), Thoreau, John Ruskin (Unto this Last), Tolstoy (e.g., The Kingdom of God Is Within You), and the Bhagavad Gita are the most prominent and influential. (Gandhi was very well read man, and he continued to expand his reading while jailed.) In addition to knowing what Gandhi read, we have what he wrote, which is immense. Indeed, Sorabji argues that Gandhi qualifies as a philosopher because he led a very examined life, and he did so publicly in order to invite comment and criticism. 

Despite the lack of a direct connection between the Stoics and Gandhi, the comparison proves quite fruitful because both traditions (Gandhi alone, I think, can constitute a tradition) attempt to deal with love, emotion, and our engagement with the wider world. Our current, popular notion of Stoicism is quite warped in relation to the ancient practice. We think of Mr. Spock as the ideal Stoic, at his best when he allows his emotions to overcome his rational mind. But this understanding, along with any sense of Gandhi as bound by any absolute standards, misses the very carefully considered analysis of emotions (including love and care) that mark these two traditions. Sorabji’s thorough, point-by-point consideration of the particulars of each position, takes us deeply into each. And, as I believe, each tradition has a rich vein of wisdom that we should mine, the book proves very worthwhile. 

In perusing the speaker list for JLF,  I came across the names of Lloyd and Susanne Rudolph, and I learned that they are retired (but very active) University of Chicago political scientists who have written very extensively about Indian politics (and whom are part-time Jaipur residents). Upon checking, I learned that my trusty Kindle could deliver Postmodern Gandhi and Other Essays: Gandhi in the World and at Home (2006) to me, and I purchased it. This book of essays considers Gandhi, his life and thought, from a number of different angles: his critique of modernity, his reception in America, the effect of Nehru’s different relation to modernity on partition, the ashram as public space, and importance of courage to Gandhi and his movement. Each essay mines its topic carefully and with revealing and insightful conclusions. By referencing political thinkers with whom I have prior acquaintance, like Reinhold Niebuhr, Hannah Arendt, and Jürgen Habermas, the Rudolphs help better situate Gandhi and his project in my existing political taxonomy. 

Perhaps the only contention I have with their work is their designation of Gandhi as postmodern. I often worry that the term “postmodern”, along with its predecessor, “modern”, is too slippery. But even setting aside that concern (which can certainly be addressed by careful acknowledgments up-front), this designation of Gandhi as postmodern seems to reach too far. One can argue more persuasively that Gandhi is pre-modern: his dedication to spinning and village life hardly smack of 19^th century ideals, not to speak of 20^th or 21^st century norms. Gandhi and those he draws upon, like Ruskin and Tolstoy, are certainly critics of modernity that demand a hearing, but none of them strike me as having provided a compelling counter-narrative (although I’m sadly not well enough acquainted with Ruskin’s work to say that with certainty). Ashrams and village life may have their place in postmodern world, but only as one alternative in plural world. People in India and around the world have voted (and are voting) with their feet by leaving villages and migrating to cities for reasons economic and cultural. While I have a homespun (khadi) vest, I don’t delude myself that I and about 1.1 billion fellow humans here in India can cloth ourselves adequately without the aid of mechanical looms. People want the benefits of economic development and of (at least some) cultural freedom that the traditional (pre-modern) Indian life that Gandhi extolled can’t provide. Indeed, I perceive the village (and villagers transplanted into Indian megacities) as a huge and difficult challenge to India, especially for young Indian women who aspire to some level of gender equality and greater personal dignity, it appears to me that the pre- modern village mentality is a mortal threat. What Gandhi did not provide, and that we must, is a way through the problems of modernity, the problems of environmental degradation, rampant consumerism, and social alienation. In their place, we are challenged to establish new forms of meaning and society consistent with Enlightenment values. Gandhi as a critic of modernity and as a philosopher of personal values holds some sway with me, but Gandhi as political visionary does not. (N.B. Gandhi’s political heir, Nehru, did India no great favors with his modernist and statist political vision.)

I’m looking forward to reading more about Gandhi and grappling with the enigma of this amazing man, and I can do so with the greater insight having read these two excellent books.

Cross-posted on Steve's View from Abroad

 

Reading the Sunday Papers

Some thoughts from reading the local paper (IC Press-Citizen & the Des Moines Register) as well as the NYT:

1. DMR article about U.S. ambassador to India, Nancy Powell, native Iowan, UNI grad, and former teacher. This will give Iowa Guru something to chat with the boss about if she gets to meet her!

2. DMR notes that Idina Menzel of Wicked & Glee fame is coming to DM this Friday. Should I tell Iowa Guru? Only if I want to go! (Maybe she should follow this blog. Yeah, that's right.)

3. Maureen Dowd normally skewers with wit and satire, but her piece in the NYT today is deeply troubling. Not because of what she writes, but the fact of the real, troubling truth of what she writes about. One can't treat these issues with any lightness. I'm talking about predatory sexual abuse stories and the many persons who did not intervene or tried to cover-up these terribly evil acts. We've all talked about "good Nazis" or "good Germans" with some disdain, but at least some of those persons who remained silent could be excused for fear of their lives. And in the Kitty Genovese case of fame from the mid-60's, we can understand a perverse social circumstance that might help us understand the the lack of response (and the accounts vary so as to question the moral culpability of bystanders.)  Dowd suggests it's our institutions that are flawed, but these behaviors that she describes in contemporary America really do go to character and moral standards. It's really shocking and troubling. (BTW, she quotes from Robert Bolt's wonderful play/screenplay about Sir Thomas More, "A Man for All Seasons", which I believe that I read for a political philosophy course and a quote from which I consider a great one about the importance of the law & legal procedure, even for "the devil", so I knew MD was on to something right away.)

4. On a more pleasant note, and going to the quotidian (but vital) search for serenity and balance, this NYT article by James Atlas about Buddhism in America (which he cutely dubs "Newddism") is a consideration of a growing appreciation, if not outright adoption, of Buddhism in the U.S. I certainly count myself among those greatly influenced by and receptive to Buddhist perspectives. (Thanks to Iowa Guru's graduate student friend Hedecki, who stayed with us before he returned to Japan and got me interested in Buddhism. He also provided wonderful entertainment for the infant 1HP with his "Indian elephant, African elephant" routine.)

5. An interesting companion piece to the Atlas article is this NYT article by Robert Zaretsky & John T. Scott, which is a consideration of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, the great French Enlightenment (or Counter-Englightenment or Romantic) thinker (whose 300th birthday approaches). Now, compare the take of this article with that Atlas's on Buddhism. Am I alone in seeing some very interesting parallels? A comparison of Rousseau and contemporaries of his like Hume & Smith (don't forget The Theory of the Moral Sentiments!) might really provide some food for thought. I haven't found much exploration of these two traditions (Western Enlightenment, non-French variety, and Buddhism), but I think that it could prove fruitful. Pankaj Mishra touched on the topic in interesting way in his fine book, An End to Suffering: The Buddha in the World, but he didn't go deeply into the subject (not his intention in that book, which is a fine read.). A book by David T. McMahan might provide some answers, and an interesting book-length comparison of Gandhi and the Stoics will be coming out later this year from Richard Sorabji, and it could prove very insightful (although we're not talking Buddhism with Gandhi, but still I think, somewhat birds of a feather.). Well, read it and weep--or laugh--or smile--or try to enjoy happiness in the moment!

P.S. I enjoy theater & J-J, whom I've read mostly as a political philosopher, could be a bit of a drudge. He reacted too strongly, in my opinion, the the excesses of Ancien Regime culture. No Shakespeare, no O'Neil--no thank you. Jettison Moliere if you must.

Tim Ferris on Practical Pessimism

This talk of < 6' by Tim Ferris highlights some salient points of Stoicism. It's worth watching, as Ferris has latched on to at least one important aspect of the Stoic ethic. More on Ferris to come, as I just finished his new book, which, like this short piece, is chuck-full of interesting ideas.

David Brooks on Mental Courage

David Brooks in the NYT today, "A Case of Mental Courage", once again uses contemporary cognitive science, mixed with older ideas of character, to ask us to step away from our tendency to have great faith in our personal opinions. In contemporary terms, he asks us to use "metacognition". Be forewarned, Brooks relates a horrific tale at the beginning of the piece to demonstrate the commitment to truth and honesty held by at least some of our forbearers. His point, properly tempered by reference to what's good in our contemporary culture, is valid, especially in politics (and one might add about any other field of human knowledge). Compare this article, by the way, with my recent cites to Lerner & Thaler. Also, note how his line of thinking melds into virtue ethics (see Haidt "The New Science of Morality", which deserves its own post), as well as Buddhist and ancient Western thought (Stoics, Epicureans, and early Christian ascetics). Some gold there.