A collaborative search for wisdom, at Middle Tennessee State University and beyond...
"The pluralistic form takes for me a stronger hold on reality than any other philosophy I know of, being essentially a social philosophy, a philosophy of 'co'"-William James
Plato has begun to appear in some unexpected places. On the first track of Jay-Z and Kanye West’s hip-hop album, “Watch the Throne” (2011), you can pick out the line, “Is Pious pious cause God loves pious?” This, as classicists will instantly recognize, is an allusion to a dilemma posed in Plato’s dialogue “Euthyphro,” in which Socrates asks, “Is the pious loved by the gods because it is pious, or is it pious because it is loved by the gods?” In Rebecca Newberger Goldstein’s new book, “Plato at the Googleplex: Why Philosophy Won’t Go Away,” Plato turns up not only at the search engine’s headquarters in Mountain View, Calif., but also with the obstreperous host of a cable news talk show, as a consultant to an advice columnist, and in several other places a long way from ancient Athens. In Goldstein’s neat finale, the pupil of Socrates and teacher of Aristotle eagerly disappears into the magnetic bowels of an fM.R.I. scanner to have his brain probed.
Goldstein is a novelist and a teacher of philosophy whose previous nonfiction book, “Betraying Spinoza,” was in effect a love letter to the 17th-century Dutch thinker described as “the renegade Jew who gave us modernity.” Now she has written a love letter to Plato, whom she regards as having given us philosophy. He is, in her view, as relevant today as he ever was — which is to say, very. To demonstrate his continuing hipness, her expository chapters on his writings and milieu alternate with Platonic-style dialogues set in present-day America, where Plato is on a book tour. The old chap adapts wonderfully to his unfamiliar surroundings. Presented with a Chromebook computer, he becomes addicted to Googling, and enrolls in online courses to brush up on neuroscience.
It’s diverting to speculate on which aspects of the Internet would be embraced by time-traveling ancient thinkers. The epigrammatic Heraclitus would surely have appreciated the enforced brevity of Twitter. Diogenes the Cynic, who made a spectacle of himself in order to heap scorn on conventional values (to which end he allegedly masturbated in public), would presumably have relished Facebook — until his selfie-strewn account was deleted. Diogenes Laertius, an infamously undiscerning historian, would have gleefully reposted every hoax and rumor to be found in cyberspace. It’s harder to swallow the idea that Plato would be such a Googler, given his insistence on the chasm between mere information and genuine wisdom. Aristotle, a keen collector of biological oddities, is the more plausible hoarder of facts.
But this is not a criticism. Quite the reverse: Goldstein’s resurrection of Plato actually works, which is no mean achievement. His avid Googling is slightly puzzling precisely because her character is recognizably the real thing — or rather, a plausible reconstruction of his mouthpiece, Socrates. When the rejuvenated Plato gently probes the loud certainties of Roy McCoy, Goldstein’s invented cable-news pundit, on the subjects of happiness, virtue, success and religion, we hear authentic Platonic arguments brought nicely up to date.
Plato never speaks under his own name in the old dialogues. We are told in them that he was present at the trial of Socrates and absent at his death, but otherwise we hear nothing about him. Giving Plato his own voice has been tried a few times before, notably in “The Mask of Apollo” (1966), a historical novel by Mary Renault, and in “Acastos: Two Platonic Dialogues” (1986), by the British novelist-philosopher Iris Murdoch. Murdoch’s Plato was dogmatic and impatient in one dialogue (“Oh what nonsense you all talk!”), and an emotional and tiresome youth in another. Goldstein’s Plato seems to have been modeled on the character of Socrates, because he is unfailingly modest and polite — and is thus quite unlike the “philosophy-jeerers” among scientists with whom she wrestles at various points in the book.
One of the most raucous jeers against philosophy in general, and Socrates in particular, was delivered in Plato’s own time, by the comic playwright Aristophanes. Nowadays, it is most often scientists who lead the taunting: Some physicists seem especially to have gotten under Goldstein’s skin. I’m not sure the ones she cites are worthy opponents. They are tone-deaf to philosophical reasoning and mistakenly suppose that the defect lies in the music rather than in themselves. Such uncomprehending hostility is an intriguing phenomenon, which perhaps in part reflects the narrowness of scientific specialization these days. Einstein and several of the founders of quantum mechanics were enthusiasts for philosophy, possibly because they benefited from a broader education than today’s laboratory pundits.
In the 1920s, the wife of an Oxford don once assured a dinner companion that a student with a first-class degree in classics “could get up science in a fortnight.” Today, the situation is reversed: It is some scientists who think they can grasp the fundamentals of another discipline by thumbing a few pages and having a quick ponder. Hence, for instance, the burgeoning literature by some neuroscientists and their fans in which the problem of free will, or some other venerable source of fascination, is breezily dispatched in a trice. (In some of the liveliest argument in this book, one such overconfident neuro-sage is masterfully needled by Goldstein’s Plato.)
Yet there is a problem, or at least a puzzle, about the nature of progress in philosophy, which the continuing relevance of Plato underlines rather than resolves. As Goldstein puts it: “If philosophy makes progress, then why doesn’t Plato at long last just go away?” Science makes cumulative advances, but philosophy can seem stuck in a loop — a situation made all the more embarrassing by the fact that many of its most famous practitioners, from the 17th century onward, keep announcing that now, at last, they have found the way forward (yet again). Goldstein’s response is somewhat gnomic. She claims progress in philosophy is real but “invisible because it is incorporated into our points of view. . . . We don’t see it, because we see with it.” Yet if that were so, shouldn’t Plato now be old hat to us? He would only be telling us things that, thanks partly to him, we have come to already know.
A more apt approach to the enigma of philosophical progress may be to question the question. Should we really regard philosophy as a dog-eared crossword puzzle, first published some 2,500 years ago and still pored over by enthusiasts who, after 100,000 rainy Sundays, have managed to fill in only a handful of clues? Another way to see it is as a fountain of eternally youthful questions, with which we shall always be grappling because they expose unresolvable tensions in our beliefs and concepts, and stimulate our intellectual appetites. Wouldn’t it in fact be rather disappointing to stop asking fundamental questions? If philosophy is not something we’d like to see all sorted out and put away, there will always be a place for Plato, because he was so remarkably good at it. ANTHONY GOTTLIEB
Philosophers eager to write for popular audiences are finding readers who want answers science can’t offer.
When i was 21, I was trying to decide whether to become a doctor or a philosophy professor. My older brother, whose advice I usually followed, asked me why I wanted to study philosophy. I was evasive. Finally I admitted that a lot of the books I loved had been written by philosophers and philosophy professors. Plus, one of my favorite books at the time, a book I’d read and reread since I was a teenager, was Hermann Hesse’s Magister Ludi: The Glass Bead Game, which unabashedly romanticized the life of the professor.
“Be practical. Books are dangerous things,” my brother warned me. “Just because it’s on paper, you think it’s true. Moneylove was one of the most damaging books I ever read. Not to mention How to Win Friends & Influence People.” (I should probably mention that my brother is a very successful luxury jeweler, who continues to love money and, as Dale Carnegie instructs, to “make the other person feel important—and do it sincerely.”) This wasn’t what I wanted to hear, so I called my dad, at that time a broke New Age guru and sex therapist living in Jupiter, Florida—not exactly the oracle of Delphi, and not someone whose advice I usually followed. “Every doctor I know is miserable, son,” he told me. “They work all the time and complain about insurance companies.” (Not much has changed since 1988.) “Be a professor. You’ll never be rich, but you’ll be doing what you love: reading and writing. You get summers off. It’s a good life.”
Note that my father didn’t say the good life, which is how a philosophically minded adviser might have put it to me—except that philosophy in America in the 1980s and ’90s seemed to be losing its way in dry, scholastic debates about the most lifeless of topics (what is the meaning of and?). But he told me what I wanted to hear, and a quarter century later, philosophy is making the kind of comeback that leaves a Hermann Hesse groupie glad to have headed for graduate school and ended up with tenure. Amid hand-wringing about the decline of the humanities, the philosopher (and novelist) Rebecca Newberger Goldstein can write a book like Plato at the Googleplex: Why Philosophy Won’t Go Away, confident that she’ll find readers eager to turn to philosophers for help in thinking about the meaning of life and how best to live it. Books like Sarah Bakewell’s wildly popular study of Montaigne, How to Live, and the successful New York Times blog The Stone, back her up, as does the Harper’s column Ars Philosopha (full disclosure: I am a frequent contributor to the last).
We are deluged with information; the scientific method produces new discoveries every day. But what does all that mean for us?
But Goldstein wisely doesn’t take philosophy’s revival for granted in a culture committed to an increasingly materialistic worldview—materialistic in the philosophical sense, meaning convinced that the scientific study of matter in motion holds the answers to all our questions. The impetus for Goldstein’s ingenious, entertaining, and challenging new book is the theoretical version of the very practical problem I confronted when I graduated from college: Now that we have science, do we really need philosophy? Doesn’t science “bake bread” (not to mention make money) in a way that philosophy never has? Science is responsible for the grand upward march of civilization—so we are often told—but what accomplishments can philosophy claim?
In praise of Plato, the 20th-century philosopher Alfred North Whitehead once wrote, “The safest general characterization of the European philosophical tradition is that it consists of a series of footnotes to Plato.” But this, as Goldstein points out, is precisely what might make us worry about philosophy as a discipline:
Those predisposed to dismiss philosophy—some of my best friends—might hear in Whitehead’s kudos to Plato a well-aimed jeer at philosophy’s expense. That an ancient Greek could still command contemporary relevance, much less the supremacy Whitehead claimed for him, does not speak well for the field’s rate of progress.
Or does it? The question that Goldstein’s book sets out to consider is what we mean by progress, and also what we mean by meaning. Her goal is to do more than prove how relevant philosophy still is. She aims to reveal how many of our most pressing questions simply aren’t better answered elsewhere. Much of what we take for progress delivers answers that miss the point, distort issues, ignore complications, and may be generated by badly formulated questions in the first place. Goldstein also wants to show us that figuring out how to live a meaningful life is something very different from understanding the meaning of special relativity or evolution. We are deluged with information; we know how to track down facts in seconds; the scientific method produces new discoveries every day. But what does all that mean for us? As the philosopher Søren Kierkegaard observed:
Whatever the one generation may learn from the other, that which is genuinely human no generation learns from the foregoing … Thus, no generation has learned from another to love, no generation begins at any other point than at the beginning, no generation has a shorter task assigned to it than had the previous generation.
another way to put it might be that every generation could use a Plato to tackle those genuinely human lessons. That is the creative, verging on wacky, premise that has inspired Goldstein’s approach to demonstrating why philosophy won’t (and had better not) go away. She transports Plato into the 21st century and, adopting his own preferred literary form, puts him into fictional dialogue with a variety of contemporary characters. As Socrates was for Plato—the great philosophical interlocutor, living in literary form—so Plato becomes for Goldstein. She ratchets up the entertainment value (this isn’t ancient Athens!), eager for drama and topical issues. Plato is put through his paces with an array of in-your-face conversation partners, from a smart if smarmy young employee at Google, to several experts on child-rearing, to a “no-bull” cable-TV talking head, to a neuroscientist. This sounds dangerously facile and cute, but Goldstein mostly pulls it off, cleverly weaving passages directly from Plato’s dialogues into her own.
Goldstein’s Plato, like Socrates before him, is less interested in teaching those with whom he converses than he is in helping them see that they don’t know what they think they know. In sending Plato to Google, Goldstein deftly exposes the conceptual presumption at the heart of what looks like the latest high-tech methodology. On his visit with the new masters of gathering human knowledge, Plato considers a (fictional) algorithm they have developed called the Ethical Answers Search Engine, or ease, which does just what its name suggests: it crowdsources answers to ethical problems, the same way businesses now employ crowdsourcing to predict political outcomes and stock-market fluctuations, or to select marketing strategies.
But ethical solutions are not as, well, easy as the search engine might have its users believe. Plato points out that ease uses a preferential ordering system, so its designers have already begged the philosophical question: they have built into their design their own ideas about what the good life looks like. Furthermore, easeassumes that the crowd will collectively possess greater knowledge about moral matters than an expert will—but when it comes to the hardest questions, is that the case? After all, most of us would admit we don’t know what the good life is—that’s why we turn to philosophers—so why would we trust a crowd of strangers who are likely just as confused about morality as we are?
Philosophy, at its best, probably doesn’t have to progress that much, because the most-difficult and most-important human problems don’t change that much.
Plato certainly did not think the crowd was a reliable source of ethical insight. It was the crowd, after all, who put Socrates to death. And one of Socrates’s favorite moves in Plato’s dialogues is to expose moral amateurism for the confused amalgam it is. Plato never managed to say exactly what counted as ethical expertise, but in Theaetetus and elsewhere, he has Socrates successfully undermine the moral relativism that was as popular and incoherent in fourth-century-b.c. Athens as it is today. In a similar spirit, Goldstein has Plato reduce his Google interlocutor to a sweaty, defensive mess after 30 or so pages. The whiz kid realizes that behind his clear-cut, ease-derived answers lie dilemmas that demand a kind of pondering his sorting program can’t begin to manage. At one point, for example, Plato’s media escort remarks, “We don’t do slavery,” a view that any crowdsourcing approach would endorse. ease might get it right sometimes: the moral prohibition against slavery that emerged in Europe in the 17th and 18th centuries is surely an example of philosophical progress. But easecan’t explain why it gets it right. And we expect more from truth than just collective agreement—because we often collectively agree in morally mistaken ways.
like socrates in the dialogues, Plato emerges from the Googleplex unflustered, looking “more than ever like he was carved in marble, sitting so still and staring so intently,” eager to investigate further. At first it struck me as odd that Goldstein’s Plato didn’t experience more culture shock in his American travels, but his aplomb is crucial to the point she’s trying to make—which echoes Kierkegaard’s. Philosophy, at its best, probably doesn’t have to progress that much, because the most-difficult and most-important human problems don’t change that much. The quest for answers bumps up against obstacles that don’t seem to diminish. And now as ever, the quest benefits from—as Goldstein’s Plato says, cribbing from Meno when he joins a panel discussion on the topic of “How to Raise an Exceptional Child”—“the teacher who [knows] how to ask the right questions and awakens in his mind a love for the beauty of logical connections.”
Goldstein, like Plato, is at her strongest when showing us that some questions just won’t go away. But she’s not about to deny philosophy plenty of credit for coming up with its share of answers, too—and for setting scientists on their way in searching for theirs. The list of philosophical leaps is impressive: most notable, perhaps, is the 17th-century idea of individual rights. Goldstein reminds us that virtually every scientific area of inquiry began with a question or an insight from a philosopher. Democritus proposed the atom; Ionian philosophers invented what we now think of as the scientific method; Aristotle founded biology. In mathematics and physics, she observes, the metaphysical problems considered by Plato are still being debated.
My brother was wrong, of course. Books often do tell the truth, as I learned long ago when I read Magister Ludi and was seduced by sentences like this one: “This same eternal idea, which for us has been embodied in the Glass Bead Game, has underlain every movement of Mind toward the ideal goal of a universitas litterarum, every Platonic academy … every effort toward reconciliation between science and art or science and religion.” The eternal idea here is philosophy. Goldstein is with Hermann Hesse. Philosophy doesn’t merely tell us about the subjective, leaving the objective world to science. For Goldstein, who has also written splendidly on such highly abstract thinkers as Spinoza and Gödel, the finest scientific thinking will always be driven and informed by the philosophical spirit. The grand forward push of human knowledge requires each of us to begin by trying to think independently, to recognize that knowledge is more than information, to see that we are moral beings who must closely interrogate both ourselves and the world we inhabit—to live, as Socrates recommended, an examined life. Clancy Martin
What do we really mean when we use these simplistic terms, ‘good’ and ‘evil’? ‘Good’ means a lack of centeredness. It means the ability to empathize with other people, to feel compassion for them, and to put their needs before your own. It means, if necessary, sacrificing your own well-being for the sake of others’. It means benevolence, altruism and selflessness, and self-sacrifice towards a greater cause - all qualities which stem from a sense of empathy. ‘Evil’ people are those who are unable to empathize with others. As a result, their own needs and desires are of paramount importance. They are selfish, self-absorbed and narcissistic. In fact, other people only have value for them to the extent that they can help them satisfy their own desires, or to which they can exploit them. Overall, their primary characteristic is an inability to empathize with others.
This past Sunday (a week from Halloween and the day of The Walking Dead season seven premiere), my aunt informed me of the sermon preached at the church she, my father, and my brother attend. In short, the pastor spoke of the history of Halloween as well as forms of entertainment coinciding with the holiday, such as The Walking Dead, Twilight, and etc., encouraging everyone to reevaluate what they are watching. According to him, television shows, movies, and books that emphasize death- Christians should be emphasizing life- are not good influences in living a Christian life. While he didn’t demand these things forbidden, he heavily implied that they should be removed. Agreeing with the pastor, my aunt (a big fan of Game of Thrones and Orange is the New Black) added that her children wouldn’t be watching or reading television shows or books, such as The Walking Dead or Harry Potter because of the material it portrays and she didn’t want her children to be frightened when they went to bed at night.
My first reaction: WOW. I was livid. When I was a kid, the thing that scared me the most was not a fictional form of entertainment, but the fiery pits of hell. Every night, my mom helped me recite a prayer, “..and if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take..” Dying in my sleep and living an eternal life in Satan’s domain, utterly terrified me. Of course, anyone has the right to watch or listen to whatever they want and I respect that, but this particular situation as a whole just seems hypocritical.
P.S. TWD S7 E1 was awesome... although I am still emotionally unstable.
The free-speech conference I attended at the James Union Building was immensely intriguing and starkly alarming. It had never really occurred to me just how fragile the nature of campus freedom of speech really was. The most inspiring quote I can recall from the conference was, with regards to the preacher who was on campus a couple days ago speaking of hellfire and "whorish" activity, "We should not be afraid of a man with a microphone." What I attained from the experience was that the continuous fluctuation between the various positions on the political compass is what furthers the country towards an improved future whilst maintaining the core freedoms, particularly those laid out by the 1st amendment. The potentiality of future movements for important issues like the Civil Rights Movement is contingent with these freedoms keeping it's core values.
I decided to start this weekly short essay
question with a quick internet search. That search led me to the idea that
plenty of people believe in things that they cannot necessarily prove or see.
One website had a list of ten, many of which I found interesting. Those ten
were: Aliens, Astrology, Cryptids, Ghosts, Psychic Mediums, Karma, Intuition,
Fate, Religious Texts, and God. I find myself believing in quite a few of these
things. For example, what this website calls intuition, is your gut feeling.
You ever catch yourself in a situation where you need to make a decision, but
you are at a loss as to which choice to make? A lot of people believe that when
you have a gut feeling in one direction, that's some higher universal
power telling you that your decision is correct. We've all used it, whether in
that situation or when to decide if you should trust someone or not. There's no
verifiable proof to it, there's just a deep-rooted feeling.
Is there anything wrong with this idea of
believing in what you cannot see? No, there's not. We are human beings. We are
infinitely beautiful and complex creatures. Some beliefs may seem silly or odd,
but they make us who we are. If every
person only believed in concrete ideas, that would crush creativity and ideas
and actions. Beliefs lead to action. Without them, we aren't who we were
created to be. So go ahead and believe in what you can't see, you'll be better because of it.
It is basic nature for one to pursue the path which leads to achieving their personal pleasures. In fact, this nature is one of the leading principles behind capitalism, one can pursue their desires and anyone has the chance at achieving what they want. Whether a person pursues taking a bath, eating foods, spending time with their family instead of working, or their personal strive towards fame and fortune. This is often constructive and beneficial for people in the allowance of work equals reward, however, there are sometimes when one's personal pleasures do not assist the greater good.
If someone is greedy and exploits those around them to achieve their goals in a harmful manner, should they pursue their own personal pleasure? This type of behavior is encouraged by capitalism but it left to the moral review of people's pleasures in order to decide if it should be pursued.
Many times one's personal pleasures do not directly conflict with the greater good, however, in cases in which it does, it takes the better person to sacrifice their own pleasure for the greater good of others, However, it is the fundamental idea behind our nation's economy, that if one is able, the personal pleasure of their own can be outweighed from that of those around them.
I often struggle with losing my train of thought or not being able to complete a paper because I can not seem to think of anything else to write. When i lose my train of thought in the middle of speaking with others I generally wait and struggle to remember what I was going to say. I start by going back through what all was said in the conversation and attempt to remember where my place in the conversation was going. Often times I am able to regain my train of thought. There are also other instances when specific words can not formulate in my mind. These instances are harder to recover from. When it comes to whole ideas being blocked when I am on my own I generally "give up". I walk away from whatever I am working on and focus on other aspects. I have come to realize that these blocks generally happened when I have been to focused on or stressed about one thing. So, to me, these blocks are my minds way of reminding me that I have other worries and responsibilities. It is also my minds way of making me take a break and relieve some of my stress. I actually have not had one of these types of blocks in quiet some time. I have begun to switch between tasks and time my day in a more balanced manner. I no longer spend hours on any one aspect of learning. I switch between homework, work, adult responsibilities, and down time. I am generally always doing something, but I am never doing one thing very long. (H1)
This episode of Crash Course Philosophy talks about William James. He's a little more than halfway through the video.
It's neat because it talks about William James' conditions for belief without evidence. He still thought that if evidence exists, you should look for it. That seems to refute Russell's Columbus example. There is evidence Columbus sailed in 1492, so I feel like James would still think believing otherwise would be irresponsible.
I really liked his idea of live, forced, and momentous beliefs. And
while I do believe that religion is not entirely a forced belief like
James insisted (that is, I agree with Russell that there are more
options than complete belief and complete disbelief), I think that set
of criteria is a pretty good one.
The philosopher discussed first in the video, W. K. Clifford, says there is no such thing as a private belief. We all affect one another with our words, with our actions. It's scary, but neat.
Because we live in the marvelous land of the free, one of the rights we are blessed with is that of the freedom of speech. While this allows us to freely express our thoughts without the government censoring us or locking us up, this does not mean that we are not subjected to the court of public opinion and that we are protected from people disagreeing with us, loudly and vocally.
Recently on campus, this right to the freedom of speech has been used by a few men to express their views regarding religion and the fact that we are all going to Hell. Now since there are people on campus who disagree with them, they also have the right to express their views. But is it really best to voice this dissent to these men? There's a theory in psychology that when people actively discourage the views of someone, that person becomes more set in what they believe in. This is what drives organizations like the Westboro Baptist Church and likewise what drives these men.
So voicing your dissent against people like these to their faces, especially if you do it forcefully, just drives them to continue their hate-filled speech. So should we really confront these people? While we are driven to want to "correct" these people and move them to our side, we just fuel their own thoughts. Maybe we should look for calmer and more reasonable methods to try and effect change in these people, such as through the act of trying to ignore them. But this method will never work unless everyone does this as a collective, and human nature makes this nearly impossible.
Either way, while we may agree with some and disagree with others, what is really the right method to go about confronting people and trying to change strongly-held thoughts and opinions?
I feel that many people are probably going to talk about this during their essay, so I figured my two cents in as well.
If any of you miraculously missed it, there has been two gentlemen posted up in front of the Student Union for most of the week blatantly screaming that every single one of us students are going to Hell for some reason or another, and God doesn't listen to us because we are all sinners, and so on and on.
If you did happen to miss him, you are a blessed and lucky soul.
I just feel that this person has literally sought us out to yell and claim that he is spreading the message. Now, I'm not Christian, but he is what gives Christians a bad rap. I know for a fact that literally 98.75% of what he is saying is absolutely false and has no grounds in the Bible or any other modern religion for that matter. Listening to this man speak has honestly made me lose brain cells this week and it reminded me of the cave analogy.
This man honestly believes that what he is doing is educating us all and enlightening us. He believes we are in a cave of sin and his belligerent and ignorant words of hate and hellfire are teaching us and showing us a new world. Yet, these people who are hearing his message are hearing only hate and not the love that we should be shown.
Is what he is doing good or bad? This is the question that shows up again and again in this class. Perhaps some philosophers would claim that what he is doing is good, as he is trying to spread what he believes to be 'truth.' On a more realistic side, can you see any good from belittling and telling hundreds and thousands of young adults daily that they shall soon be punished?
I just want to have a sit down with this man, no chaos and no screaming, to see why it is that he feels what he is doing is for the greatest good of society.
On our campus this week, a group has been shouting ignorant nonsense outside of the Student Union that has gathered large crowds of students and started a heavy debate about free speech and how far it should go. There's a very slim minority who want him here but I may be a part of the slim minority that says "If he wants to speak, let him speak".
As a pro-choice queer person, the epitome of what they seem to be preaching against, it's very important that those people are able to have a voice. A consequence of free speech is having to hear opinions and dialogue that you don't like, but if America wants to call itself the Land of the Free, we have to allow them a voice whether we like it or not. The great thing, however, about all this violent speech that would normally bother me on a personal level, for every one person screaming homophobic ideals, there were hundreds of students against them. It was honestly heart-warming to see all of these students come together to love one another and created a reminder that all these hateful views are outdated and unpopular. The more this man shouts, the less people will take him seriously. He has said some very offensive things, not only to me but to many other students, but no matter what he says it only makes him less respected and his voice not important. So for a few days I will bear through a single man or group shouting from a megaphone about how I am worthless and repulsive if it reinforces that his opinions don't matter while still upholding the concept of free speech that makes America so great.
While it would be nice if we could put things in boxes of
“good” and “bad,” I believe there is a large grey area between the two. It
seems that Jeremy Bentham and John Stuart Mills had a limited perception on the
matter. Mills held the opinion that pleasure is the only thing desired,
therefore pleasure is the only thing desirable. Bentham said that pleasure is
good, and pain is bad. These are hard statement to completely agree with, as
there are many situations in which the idea of what is “pleasurable” may be
of us spend our lives surrounding ourselves with the friends, family,
activities, and jobs that are most pleasurable to us. We do, generally, seek
out the things that are personally most desirable to us. However, we are also
aware that the things we personally view as pleasurable may not be viewed as
pleasurable by somebody else. A question of morality comes in to play here. Should
we be willing to sacrifice our own pleasure in order to help someone else
achieve theirs? Is the satisfaction of helping someone else pleasurable in
itself? Is there a universal standard for what is good and what is bad? The idea
of “pleasure” is abstract, and depends heavily on the situation at hand.
and Bentham’s views on pleasure are true to an extent, but have many flaws on a
larger scale. Who decides what is pleasurable? Is there really any way to
measure it? These views work as general statements, but fail when applied to
more difficult circumstances.