Up@dawn 2.0

Thursday, November 29, 2018

Say Hey!

About Jamil's inspired analogy (left field = idealism, center field = dualism, right field = materialism)...

What do we make of versatile stars like Willie Mays who "play all the fields"? Are they "neutral monists," roaming the outfield of what William James called pure experience?





neutral monism
Belief that both mental and physical properties are the features of substances of a single sort, which are themselves ultimately neither mental nor physical. In distinct varieties, neutral monism was defended by James and Russell.
Recommended Reading: William James: Writings 1902-1910, ed. by Bruce Kuklick (Lib. of Am., 1988); The Cambridge Companion to William James, ed. by Ruth Anna Putnam (Cambridge, 1997); Ray Monk, Bertrand Russell and the Origins of Analytical Philosophy (St. Augustine, 1997); and Mafizuddin Ahmed, Bertrand Russell's Neutral Monism.
Also see EB and DPM



Hagan; HIMYM Pt. 2

My report is a little funky, and instead of going forward it jumps back a chapter to something that intrigued me. Last time, I focused on Barney’s nonsensical manner of avoiding his feelings. This time around, I’m going to focus on why we like Barney Stinson so much even though he’s a terrible human being. Even by his friends’ standards, he’s a moral wreck, with his friend Lily even saying that he’s emotional equivalent of a sewer rat. I’m going to go through the different reasons that audiences love to watch such disgusting characters, and analyze the philosophies that underlie it.
First, we reason that Barney’s “not so bad.” We see him do things that get on our nerves or make us feel something negative, but some of the time we get a look behind the scenes of these actions. In the episode, “The Scorpion and the Toad,” we see Barney stealing girls from Marshall while he’s trying to get over Lily. Later in “Bachelor Party,” it’s revealed that Barney did this in hopes of Marshall getting back together with Lily. We see him as a naughty little child. He’s not a bad guy, he’s just immature.
Next, maybe we’re not meant to identify with Barney. The three main men of the series are Ted, Marshall, and Barney. Ted was created for single men to identify with, Marshall was meant for married men representation, and Barney...well, he’s for us to laugh at. Throughout the beginning of the series he’s someone that we laugh at, and even his friends call him a “dork” and a “loser.” There’s always the possibility that Barney is just a the comic relief of the show.
Another idea is that of Schadenfreude, the feeling of happiness at others’ misfortune. Instead of laughing alongside Barney, we’re meant to be laughing at him. In “The Ducky Tie,” Barney’s disgusting objectification of Lily’s body is seen being punished after he loses a bet and is forced to wear a tacky tie with rubber ducks on it for a year. Another example of Barney’s objectification of the female body is seen in “Burning Beekeeper,” when after sleeping with a friend that Lily specifically warned him not to, he is stung by a swarm of bees.In almost every episode Barney gets what’s coming to him, and we are provided with countless evidence that Barney may just be someone that we like seeing facing the consequences.
An interesting idea is that we like imagining from the inside when it comes to Mr. Stinson. We connect with the character on an emotional level, and we try to reason with his actions. It’s like when you’re watching a movie and the main characters commit a robbery, and the police are on the way to catch them. You know the situation is morally wrong, but you can’t help hoping they escape with the money. With Barney, we give the reasoning of “there’s nothing evil about the evil character’s situation.” This connects to emotional contagion, an automatic and unconscious action. You put yourself in the character’s shows and that emotional connection you’ve created furthers your interest in the character. This doesn’t fully explain why we have such a positive reaction to Barney, but this next idea might.
We like to live vicariously through Barney. We ourselves wouldn’t commit the actions that he is because we know better, but this is a fictional character. Our emotional contagion allows us to feel as though we have committed these sociopathic behaviors, even though we would never do so in real life. We do this because it’s amoral for us to commit them, but it’s not to watch Barney do so. “Being bad has it’s appeal, but an indirect and vicarious one.”

Quiz Questions:
  1. What audiences were the characters of Marshall and Ted meant for?
  2. What was the concept of Schadenfreude?
  3. What allows us to feel as though we’ve committed the actions of a character we’re watching?
Discussion Question:

  1. Why do you think we like bad/immoral characters in fictional media?

Anakin Skywalker and the Fear of Death


Leanna Prince, H02

Darth Vader is, arguably, the most iconic villain in cinematic history. But what is it about him that makes him so popular? Is it the wonderful voice of James Earl Jones? His awesome sci-fi samurai armor? His propensity for force choking dissenters? Or is it something else? Perhaps Anakin Skywalker’s descent to the dark side resonates so powerfully because it represents something we all face – an all-consuming fear of death. Through Vader, Star Wars explores two different philosophical responses to death. By exploring these competing ideologies, we can better understand how Anakin Skywalker came to be the Dark Lord of the Sith.

What will ultimately turn Anakin Skywalker into Darth Vader is fear—specifically, the fear of death. In his 1973 book The Denial of Death, cultural anthropologist Ernest Becker argued that almost everything we do is a way of managing the fear of our own demise and the demise of those around us. This anxiety, known as death denial, is especially present in Darth Vader, and is rooted as far back as his childhood. When we first meet Anakin Skywalker, he’s an implausibly wise and articulate nine-year-old boy genius with superhuman piloting skills. He’s the product of a virgin birth, he’s smarter than any of the adults around him, and there’s a prophecy that suggests he just might be the messiah.

But even young Jedi Jesus isn’t immune to being terrified of death. Anakin’s distress over his mother’s mortality will haunt him. And as he gets older, this fear will become a fixation. Yoda figures out this fear is going to be a problem pretty early on, which could actually explain why the Jedi are so hesitant to train Anakin on account of his age. See, when kids are youngest, it’s easier to indoctrinate them to not fear death. Children, according to psychologist James A. Graham, begin to understand death as permanent between the ages of 5-9, but only as something that happens to lame old people. It’s only later, around the age of 10, that kids realize the permanence of death comes for us all. Anakin is 9 – able to understand his mother’s mortality, and likely on the cusp of understanding his own.

The Jedi council ultimately allows Obi-Wan to train Anakin anyway, but it comes at a terrible cost. According to Becker, human violence is a natural response to death denial. As he writes: “only scapegoats can relieve one of his own stark death fear.” Doling out death gives people a sense of control over it, whether that happens on the battlefield or as regular ol’ homicide. For Anakin, that means a one-way ticket to the Dark Side.

When Anakin finds that his mother has been mortally wounded by Tusken Raiders, he slaughters the entire village. This kind of revenge makes sense according to Becker, who argues that killing other people gives us the illusion that we can control death, assuaging the fear that the Jedi Council warned him about. The more Anakin kills, the more death feels like something he owns.

After Anakin’s mother dies, he starts having anxiety dreams again—this time that Padmé will die in childbirth. He’s ready to blame himself for both deaths; his mother died after he left her, and he believes his wife will die because he got her pregnant. It’s at this point that Anakin is given a choice on how to deal with death – the Sith way or the Jedi way. Anakin goes to Yoda with his concerns. Yoda’s answer comes straight out of Buddhism—not surprising, considering that its said Lucas specifically based Yoda on the Tibetan Buddhist lama Tsenzhab Serkong Rinpoche. According to the Buddhist text “The Pali canon”, jaramarana—the desire to escape old age and death—is a dangerously seductive human impulse. Nonattachment – or letting go of your desires – is the only way to defeat it. And Yoda practices what he preaches: when he meets his own death in Return of the Jedi, he’s so chill about it.

Becker would call Yoda a “knight of faith,” a term he borrowed from the Danish existentialist Soren Kierkegaard. According to Becker, having real, authentic faith in something more powerful than death is a great way to manage our terror. For Kierkegaard, this meant faith in God. For Yoda, his nonattachment to jaramarana is grounded in his faith in the light side of the Force. Either way, it’s not something you can choose. This kind of faith is, in Becker’s words, “a matter of grace and not of human effort.” Anakin doesn’t have Yoda’s faith, so he goes to Palpatine for an answer. The Sith approach is to embrace your desires — in this case the desire to prevent Padme’s death – aka: death denial. In telling him an old Sith legend about Darth Plagueis the Wise, Palpatine lets it slip that the dark side of the force may enable you to defeat death.

Anakin takes sides and becomes a Sith Lord—on one condition. Anakin sacrifices his name, his loyalty to the Jedi, and even his conscience to learn how to protect Padmé from death. In refusing to accept death, Anakin is set down a dark path: he kills children, his wife, and even tries to kill his mentor. He has completely sacrificed his personality and values and become little more than a zombie trapped in a machine. This is the terminal point of death denial, according to Becker. He writes: “the person seeks to avoid death, but he does it by killing off so much of himself and so large a spectrum of his action-world that he is actually isolating and diminishing himself and becomes as though dead.” Left with nobody to protect from death, Darth Vader has become an instrument of power and little else.

We can also see this discrepancy between death denial and death acceptance in how Anakin and Luke confront death. Anakin’s most telling confrontation with death was when he indiscriminately killed the Tusken Raider’s to avenge his mother. Ultimately, Anakin even killed Padmé in his rage. Or she just died from bad writing, it isn’t really clear which. Meanwhile, Luke is willing to give up his own life to avoid turning in the thing he hates. When asked to kill Vader by Darth Sidious, he refuses. This willingness to accept death is what truly separate a Jedi from the Sith. It is only when Anakin takes a cue from his son and learns to renounce his own life that he embraces the reality of death and conquers jaramarana.

The story of Anakin Skywalker is the story all of us have to live through. Jaramarana can rot out our personalities, strip us of our values, and drive us to do terrible things. According to Becker, denial of death is responsible for our drive to inflict violence on each other, to conquer, and to control our surroundings. But no matter how much of ourselves we’ve invested in our denial, accepting the reality of death can give us dignity, build our courage, and expand our compassion. It’s never too late for Darth Vader, and it’s never too late for us.


Questions:
1. What do Buddhists call the fear of death?
2. Who wrote the 1973 book The Denial of Death?
3. Around what age do children realize that they, too, can die, not just old people?

Discussion Questions:
1. Are you afraid of death?
2. Do you sympathize with Anakin? Would you have a similar (though presumably less intense) reaction in his situation?

The Philosophy of John Locke

Locke’s focus was on “life, liberty, and property,” which I would, and many others would, say Thomas Jefferson plagiarized in his saying “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” Locke had a huge influence on American ideology following the revolutionary war. His beliefs were pivotal in the forming of the United States government after the colonies had broken off from the monarchical British rule, but who was John Locke and what made him so influential? 
Locke was a philosopher, much like Thomas Hobbes, who had major influences on politics. John Locke was born on August 29th, 1632. He was an Englishman who is known for his philosophy of the tabula rasa, and the “natural rights” of man. Locke’s belief in the tabula rasa, or blank slate, was the matter that human beings were born without any innate concepts. That there are no natural behaviors, and everything we do is learned. Locke’s belief in the blank slate defined him as an empiricist, though Locke was willing to believe that anything that could be disproved would be incorrect. Locke even stated that “whatever I write, as soon as I discover it not to be true, my hand shall be the forwardest to throw it into the fire.” This shows us how Locke was not so set in his beliefs that he would ignore the facts. 
Though Locke and Hobbes’ were both philosophers with heavy influence on the political world, the two of them didn’t agree on their views of government. Locke spoke passionately on what we would recognize as “unalienable rights.” He believed that God had given the world “to men in common,” meaning that God had given the world to Adam, and all his descendants shared that land. That would mean in his day, all men (which were all descendants of Adam) would have equal share to land. This was Locke’s belief on the basic principles of land. However, property was a different story. I believe that in Locke’s Second Treatise of Government, he made a significant distinguishment between what land was, and what property was. Land, in itself, was to be owned by the commonwealth of people. Whereas property was the product of one’s own labor. Locke believed every man was entitled his labor and to the product of his labor, whether it was land, a crop, or anything else. By working on a piece of land, farming on it, a man would mix his labor into the soil of that land. Since man owned his labor, and the soil was now mixed with his labor, the land would now become his property. 
Locke was the optimistic counterpart to Hobbes. Both men had firm beliefs in the philosophy of politics. Locke believed that everyone was entitled to life and liberty. That no individual may infringe upon another life or liberty. This is a stark contrast to Hobbes’ social contract theory, in which, without the ruling of a “leviathan” government, people would be inherently evil. Locke saw this state of nature in a different light, however. Locke thought that people weren’t inherently bad in nature, and that, without rule, one man would respect another man’s right to life, liberty, and property. This was directly opposed to the theory Hobbes’ had presented, that all men were evil; Hobbes’ thought that it was necessary to prevent this evil, and to do so, the people must sacrifice their absolute, individual freedom for a more restricted freedom that would prevent any one person from harming another. 

Quiz Questions 
1) What writing of John Locke’s was the focus of this presentation? 
2) What is the distinction between land and property? 
3) Who did God give the world to, according to Locke? 
4) Who, among the U.S. government’s founding fathers, showed the most prominent influence by John Locke? 
Discussion Questions 
1) Do you side more with Hobbes’ beliefs on man in the state of nature, or Locke’s? 
2) Do you think we are born with a “blank slate?”