Philosophical Tangents: Culture Wars (Part One)

If you could live in a simulation...

Imagine you could be attached to a virtual-reality machine which ran an utopian simulation. It promised you everything; an extended lifespan, endless pleasures at your fingertips, the freedom to roam wherever you wished, safety from harm, the power of a God. Would you choose to plug yourself in? Would you experience a hyper-reality greater than anything you could have on Earth? I would not. Here is why.

i) It would not feel real to me: The challenges in life would have to be perfectly mirrored in the simulation for me to feel any sense of accomplishment - in which case, why be in a sim at all? I think the fact that life is once, and that it can all go horribly wrong is what makes it what it is. This 'yin-yang' of suffering and joy which we try to balance makes up the totality of our life. Whilst the worst forms of suffering are inexcuseable and must be eradicated, the 'normal' level of suffering for those of us alive today is part and parcel of being alive. It gives us something to push against, to overcome our selves and the darkness outside, to be virtuous in a world of hypocrites and expedient interests, to make the most out of what we have and truly achieve some moral, intellectual or artistic project. Will the Great Sim always be a roller-coaster of good, or endless tranquility, without challenge or woe? Will the Great Sim turn us into a flaccid, limp, domesticated, formless blob?

I think it would. Worse still, it would not even genuinely create sensory happiness. As all pleasures and experiences are relative to others (think of how much better water tastes when you are thirsty) eventually we would become accustomed to our simulated joys and would require ever new heights in order to feel those sensations. Those who could not control their sense of pleasure would be more like sim-addicts than free individuals. In short order we would take for granted the pleasures of the Great Sim, and remain as unsatisfied as we are in the real world!

ii) Lack of sentient interaction: If I was experiencing a simulation alone, I would be isolated from every other person and animal. Unless other people were also plugged in to my sim, and I knew this, non-sentient programmes could have no meaningful intentions toward me (i.e. love, hate and such). The difference between winning the trust of the next-door neighbour's cat and programming a robo-cat to auto-purr every-time you come to within three metres, is the same difference between the intentions of a sentient being and the intentions of a computer programme.

If there was a sentient artificial-intelligence programme in the sim, why be in a sim at all and not in real life? And if there was a sentient artificial intelligence in the sim, my actions would no longer have a consequence only on me - the consciousness of a sentient programme is as valid as my own. Once we start creating artificial intelligences, they have every right to life and liberty as any human-animal does. To use sentience as a means for our own ends is as immoral as slavery.

iii) Natural Intuition: Philosophers have asked since the dawn of thought: how can I know what is real? My answer to this question lies in something beyond the senses - a natural intuition. This intuition is the offspring of the 'will to live'; the evolved drive which pushes us to continue existing and replicating. It guides us to survival through a sometimes-hostile world. In short, there is more to our perception than the five senses. We have an inner-sense that cannot be fooled.

Regardless of whether we are plugged into a simulation or not, this natural intuition will be part of us. The 'parent reality' from which we evolved over millions of years will be distinguishable from virtual reality. Even if this intuition became totally obsolete (and to a great extent it is - we are no longer hunter-gatherers for example) it would still be active. If we could find a way to 'turn it off' we must then answer the simple question this raises: How much of myself can I alter before I cease to be myself?

iv) External control of the simulation: The technology to create virtual realities is not the province of science fiction: it could happen in our lifetimes. This may appeal to some people, but we must ask from a political-ethical perspective: who would control the sim? Suppose there was a Great Sim which enhanced our lifespan by hundreds of years - if it it could be hacked by a malignant entity, the person plugged in to the sim could suffer for the entirety of the simulation.

That is a suffering way beyond anything found in nature. Even prey being eaten alive by African hunting dogs will die eventually, the suffering that could be caused to human-animals or artificial intelligence is worse to a far greater magnitude.

Just as no one could have predicted the extent to which computer viruses would be launched against innocently gormless users, who could predict the malice of those who wanted to lock someone into a simulated hell? Even with safeguards (escape words to end the simulation, outside forces being able to intervene and so on) there is no guarantee that something will not go disastrously wrong.

Conclusion: The future is both exciting and terrifying. We might live to see technologies that radically alter our way of life: self-replicating robots, life-like simulations, quantum computers, cybernetic humans, genetic engineering, ever-faster modes of transport, digital sentience, extra-terrestrial colonies.

If we do not start to think now about these impending changes, we may not be prepared for the ethical challenges they will inevitably raise. The less aware we are of these massive paradigm-changers, the greater the likelihood that they will fall into the wrong hands, or be put to malicious use.

We need to start imagining our techno-utopian societies now; the degree to which we will allow good technology to alter our lives. By dreaming of a positive future, we might then strive to generate it.

Selim Talat

Stories

From the pond they call life,

the fame they make believe,

seven billion lives ascend

asleep in their own dreams,

with the weight of life upon them,

trying their best to make amends

forever beyond their reach.

Conjecture: The moral dilemma of when/if it is right to kill another only arises in a society where the sheer weight of its population guarantees the act of murder. Conversely, the smaller the population, the less likely it is that murder will occur and hence the need for its moral argument, as it would seem absurd to kill in an environment where every individual is required to work with the group in order that the group survives.

Where the population is great, hegemony ensconced, resource capture and distribution industrialised and an economy of self-created scarcity in motion, then it will follow that the life of the individual, in such a programmed mass, is of little consequence to the whole and murder, whether by the state or an individual, will be more likely for this fact.

People will need to be convinced of the immorality (or morality when the state is the perpetrator) of the act of murder and laws imposed to control those who see through this ‘story’ and attempt it all the same.

The story given will omit any mention of population as a cause and instead will divert the reader’s attention to powers outside of their normal perception: a God, a form or an ideal. The reason for this is that the makers of the law must never be threatened, or their laws brought into question, by values arising from our direct physical relation to the world/environment about us, experiences of which are rudimentary and within the grasp of all.

When such values are realised the structure of power/control crumbles and is most likely to be replaced by another hegemony once a better ‘story’ is found, and so we witness the succession of philosophies, religions and political ism’s.

Given this set of circumstances we can use pragmatism in our daily lives to work our way through, however, we are often simply responding to ever new structures of power rather than ‘realising’ our actual relationship to our environment: our actual ‘being-in-the-world’. To put it another way: while we are busy fighting the spectacle and creating our own stories, like the one I am telling you now, we forget that we are animals preoccupied mostly with eating, defecating, sleeping, procreating and dreaming, and it is here we find the essence, eternally sought yet never to be found, hidden by ourselves.

Simon Leake

Aren’t we grand. - By George Dunn

Aren’t we grand.

We are animals, first and foremost- we want to survive, to reproduce, to eat and sleep and be alive for the sake of it because that's what our body tells us to do. But it seems that we have an extra thing tacked onto us, a thing that many call a mind, and this thing seems to give us the power to override what we might consider our more natural desires, our instincts. This power has immense potential.

Where many (if not all) other animals are slaves to their desires, we can break free;  and so when our body tells us to eat, to sleep, to mate, to run or to stand our ground we are not obliged to agree, no, we can deny them. We can stay up all night despite of our fatigue, or sleep when we are already well rested; eat nothing when our belly rumbles, or eat more when we are full; stand up to threat or run from that which is harmless. As humans, it seems, we have a nature that can transcend nature... Are we not then God's?

There are many, I'm sure, that would love to subscribe to this notion: the human as God, with the divine power to do as He wishes! To act for reasons that exist outside of His body, to ignore His natural inclinations and act instead in the name of some perceived absolute Good. It is this sort of thought that has led religions past and present to brand the desires of the body as lesser, immoral, evil. It allows humans to stand upon a pedestal of egotism, and to look down upon all else and to genuinely believe that this power to ignore ones instinct makes them better.

Well, then, does it? Is our capacity to negate nature enough to stamp our superiority upon the world of living things? There is the argument that this ability makes us free, which in turn makes us capable of moral decisions: we humans, the moral animal- free to do that which is Good! And so, freedom is part of human nature, and surely it is better to be free than not?

Perhaps.

But if we are free because we can choose not to follow our instincts, then it can be said that we are free in so far as that we are not inclined to do one thing over another. The less inclined we are, the more free we are. And so it must follow that he who has no inclination towards either good or bad is more free than he who is inclined towards that which is good... and then surely he who only does what is good is even less free than he who is only inclined towards that which is good. And so we have it, that the most free is the one who acts with complete indifference! The one who only does good is a slave, just like the other animals, unable to negate his desires: he just desires that which is good. Is it really better to be free?

It appears that any freedom that pertains to human nature is not so clearly a hallmark of our superiority, but evidence of an immense capacity that should be treated with caution. Yes, it is the capacity to act well, to be good, and perhaps this is the way that we are inclined (although I see no evidence that this is the case), but it is equally the capacity to do wrong, to be evil. We have a power, as I have said, to negate whatever inclination we have, natural or otherwise, and therefore we have the capacity to act terribly, negating all that our intuition tells us. And, in doing so, we will likely pat ourselves on the back, raise our glasses and cheer as we and only we could have done this! We, humans, free to negate nature, free to destroy and annihilate, to create and nurture... whatever we do, it will be grand, as it could have only been us. Maybe we are superior, insofar as we are more powerful, but better? The ego to make such a claim could only be human.

By George Dunn

The Philosophy Takeaway 'Human Nature' Issue 36

Ethics: nature or nurture?

Some 40 years ago, when the youngest councillor on my council, I was furious that my comrades chose to ban Last Tango in Paris, and I sat down with the Ten Commandments in from of me and despite ignoring much of them, came out with four principles. They were:

i) maximise human potential subject to the limitations of both present and future environments, (person+environment: ‘Green’)

ii) when two or more people are involved in an activity, provide relevant knowledge, (group: Rights, often civil)

iii) share equally the burdens imposed by the limitations of the natural environment, (group+environment: here Socialism)

iv) be free to do as one wishes, as long as others are not affected. (person: here ‘Social Liberalism’)

The last seemed to me to be crucial, and the other principles stated the relations with both other humans and the environment required to achieve this. Banning Last Tango in Paris was clearly a violation of (iv).

Now I have shown how ethical principles might be built up from key concepts, here individuals, groups and the present and future environment, though I have the most difficulty with (ii). But how far are such principles in-built to nature? My view is that (i) and (iv) are in-built, at least for the present environment, and when that person is oneself. A principle about person+environment is a key feature of bringing up the young and indeed caring for the old, who still have a role to play. It is Rule (iv) is all about wishes and will, and it is custom that ensures that people learn how their actions affect other people.

In other respects we have what might be considered ‘original sin’, including violation of the future environment, withholding crucial knowledge and greed. Custom leads communities acting more ethically towards each other to a greater or lesser extent, for the survival of the community, but that does not imply they will respect the rights of other communities. In effect the group mentioned above is not wider than the community.

And not everyone would agree with my principles. An economic liberal might say:

i) socialism is theft,

ii) socialism goes completely against human nature, and

iii) theft is every bit part of human nature.

Martin Prior

Philosophy Takeaway Newsletter 36 – Human Nature

X, the philosophy of X and the ethics of X - By Martin Prior

X, the philosophy of X and the ethics of X

An interesting question relates to the dichotomy of X versus the philosophy of X, and that is: where does ethics stand?  It is indeed part of philosophy, and indeed overlaps with formal logic.  But one cannot really say that for example, the philosophy of language and the ethics of language are the same thing.

Let us first of al draw of table of  -ologies, whether or not of that name-form:

-ology	philosophy thereof	ethics of players	ethics of -ologists
Religion	philosophy of religion,  religious philosophy (same?)	religious ethics
Language	philosophy of language	ethics of language	philological ethics
Archaeology	philosophy of archaeology	!	archaeological ethics
Anthropology	philosophy of anthropology	social ethics	anthropological ethics
Politics	political philosophy	political ethics
Economics	economic philosophy	economic ethics
Sociology	philosophy of sociology	social ethics	sociological ethics

Now clearly there is difference between economic philosophy and economic ethics.  According to Wikipedia on ‘Philosophy and Economics’:

Philosophy and economics (also philosophy of economics) may refer to the branch of philosophy that studies issues relating to economics or, alternatively, to the branch of economics that studies its own foundations and status as a moral science.

And in relation to non-orthodox economics at least:

.

The philosophy of economics defines itself as including the questioning of foundations or assumptions of economics. …

But in the same article, we read the following in connection with economic ethics:

The ethics of economic systems deals with the issues such as how it is right (just, fair) to keep or distribute economic goods. Economic systems as a product of collective activity allow examination of their ethical consequences for all of their participants. Ethics and economics relates[sic] ethical studies to welfare economics.

I have indeed spelt out what may well be obvious.  Note that with the –ologies, the ethics relates to the investigators, but with the “icses” the ethics relates more to the players, as do language and religion.  But in each case, there is also the ethics of investigators, though I haven’t listed them; and indeed the ethics of players, however named, though obviously this does not apply to archaeology – nor of course non-contemporary history.

In this article I shall argue that ethics can be built on axioms, reflecting the various aspects of society.  This parallels the axioms of propositional calculus – very similar to those of algebra - where the precise form will vary:

(1) one variable: p≡p&p, (2) two variables [known as commutativity]: (p&q) ≡ (q&p), 

(3)  three variables [known as associativity]: ((p&q)& r) ≡ (p&(q&r)) ….

Unless a system has axioms it will be circular, just like life and love discussed in an earlier paper.

My first ordering represents the build-up of complexity:  person, person-person, person-environment, person-person-environment, present person-future person-environment.  That is probably the order in which a child might acquire ethics, the first representing me-me-me.

There is an important exception to this build-up – universalisation: what would happen if everyone did it?  But this does not allow for variability, for example gays.

My second ordering attempts to recognise the authorities’ incorporation of ethical values: I. person-environment (e.g. religion), II. person-person (including ‘freedom from’), III. person-person-environment (for the left, socialism, for the right, the market), IV. person (‘freedom to’), V. relating to the future environment.

a ‘maroon’ socialist	a cultural analysis of exploitation
I (person-environment): (Semi-)taming the environment, self-fulfilment, etc	I (person-environment): Technology and skills; religion
II (person-person): Co-operation, freedom-from, sharing of knowledge, etc	II (person-person): Fear, ignorance
III (person-person-environment): Socialism (cf. for neo-liberals: buyer-seller-environment?)	III (person-person-environment): Abuse of superior power (cf. for neo-liberals: government-individual-environment?)
IV (person):  Freedom(-to)	IV (person-person):  Culture
V. (present persons-future persons- environment) Green	V. (present persons-future persons- environment) Technology, possibly leading to pollution?

So how does socialism, as a person-person-environment ethic, fit into the above?  To my mind, socialism is a relationship between society (inner) and the environment (outer).  There are several steps, firstly creating a semi-tamed environment, and then a ‘tamed environment’.  Note that the maroon is associated with culture, and pink with skills, technology and not least scientific socialism.  Here we may regard socialism as aggregating three features, person-person (culture), person-environment (tamed and semi-tamed) and skills, also person-environment.  The process is effective if it achieves appropriate personal relations within the limitations of the environment.

As suggested in the table, the neo-liberal alternative to III might be buyer-seller-environment, where the limitations of the environment are governed by the sellers’ willingness to sell so much for such-and-such a price.  According to Raymond Plant in the Neo-liberal State, neo-liberals are much more concerned about freedom-from than with freedom-to.  Some day I might show that neo-liberalism is wrong in two senses: firstly as flawed and self-destructive, and secondly the evil resulting from the suffering on the way to destruction, apart from anything else.

So what should these axioms be?  I think I am clear about socialism (III), as sharing equally the burdens imposed by the limitations of the natural environment, and freedom-to (IV) means freedom to do as one wishes provided no-one else ‘suffers’, though this needs closer examination: it certainly goes against the universalisation approach. 

Item II, person-person, might spell out the requisites for a mutual relationship, i.e. information and knowledge, though ignorance or confidentiality might apply say for the prosecution-defence relationship.  The Golden Rule – to do unto others as you would have them do unto you – is certainly a candidate for person-person, but it seems to work better for don’t’s rather than do’s, and that purely on a personal level.  Some of us who are anti-gay might positively ‘have’ other people gay-bash them if they were gay. 

And I and V might be conflated to represent a dynamic socialism or socialism across time.  And because we give future generations knowledge, they will be richer than us, and we should share equally with them, hence economic growth, but not too much.  And here of course we get the good, bad and ugly in the ethics of economic growth.

By Martin Prior

The Philosophy Takeaway 'Open Topic' Issue 32

Ethical Consistency - By Selim 'Selim' Talat

Ethical Consistency

The time will come when humanity will extend its mantle over everything which breathes... ' - Jeremy Bentham

By what means do we apply natural inalienable rights, or an ethics that counts the greatest happiness for the greatest number, or an ethics that says we must not treat people as means but as ends, and so on, to human beings?

  Do we consider human life to be valueable because it is the most intelligent and capable of reason. If we do, then this must mean we attribute more value to the more intelligent among us (by whatever criteria we choose to measure it). Where does this leave children, or those mentally handicapped, or those disadvantaged - beneath consideration?

No, it seems that intelligence alone is not enough to grant something 'rights', or the measure to be considered valueable.

  Do we then consider human life to be valueable because of the magic of revealed religious teachings. Again, we have to say no, as not all of us hold such religious views and the cause of human rights is championed by secular (non-religious) philosophy.

  Do we then consider human life to be valueable because it is sentient (consciously aware), and thus has the capacity to be free, but only when it is not in a state of suffering.   

  This generalization seems to have more potency than the others, and leaves very few people outside of its mantle (only those who threaten the freedom and well being of others are themselves at risk).

It would be a fair generalization to suggest that most human beings in a stable and peaceful environment, looking in from the outside at a massacre, or a distant war, would be sickened by the images and eye witness reports. Further, regarding the more directly observable violence we find inside our own familiar boundaries, who would not be disgusted by such atrocity?

Evidently, most of us!

For if I may be so provocative, whilst it is reassuring that we do not tolerate mass suffering of our fellow humans, we seem all too willing to turn a blind eye to the suffering of animals; we incorporate their slaughter into the most pleasant and polite of our routines: 'Would you care for another slice of animal Lionel?' is not something you are likely to hear at a dinner table, instead 'meat' shall be used as the appropriate euphemism, but as you can see, the violent acquisition of food is engrained in our everyday lives.

If we do subscribe to the ethics of 'That which can suffer, should not suffer needlessly' and 'Do as you will, so long as you harm none', then this should be an ethical position consistently held. Why should an animal be made exempt from our consideration? If anything, the amount of animal suffering, if measured numerically, is now greater than ever before, to the factor of millions of animals raised in ever-worsening conditions, for the whole of their short and brutish lives.

We could separate ourselves from the world of animals, or place ourselves at the peak of some vast food chain. This is normally the knee-jerk reaction of the religious; that some divine entity has given us dominion of the earth and created the beasts that we might devour their succulent flesh. 

  On a more philosophical note, Descartes is often criticised for reducing the animal to little more than a flesh-machine, incapable of reason, or possessing any form of 'soul'; primarily on account of its lack of language. This is another means of dispossessing the animal of any ethical considerations.

Yet surely if we admit but one animal into our sphere of consideration; if we call but one animal conscious (in a way at least somewhat similar to our own human consciousness) then suddenly a large swathe of creatures in the animal kingdom gain at least some measure of worth; for no longer are we strictly dividing life into human and non-human.

  The elephant's brain has as many neurons in its cortex as does a human brain. Whatever we have that makes our suffering 'real', must surely also be in the elephant. And if in the elephant, why not the chicken, the cat, the dog, or anything which we can actively recognise as having similar components to ourselves? How can we dismiss the entire life of an animal as being a simple case of reacting to stimulus, when there is at least some capacity for an animal to learn, to recognise individuality, to recognise itself, and most compellingly to suffer.

If we rose out of nature ourselves, then by the basest logic, are we not simply the furthest reach of consciousness thus created by nature, trailed by our ape cousins and all others? How is the human body transcendent (beyond the mundane) if it is related to, and at one time had ancestors no more complex than the great ape!

  What we do have is the advantage of intelligence and creativity, that allows us to create technologies, ethical values, and so on. If these values hold that violence in nature is something beneath us; the province of starving predators or a last resort  to survive, then why not dispense with the behaviour altogether. Energy can more efficiently be grown and absorbed from plant life, and all without treading on anyone's hooves.

It would be a foolish person indeed to place all life on an equal footing, doubly so if we allocate our hearts love to smallpox bacteria, common garden weeds, fleas and such like. Human beings are the greatest of all life thus discovered, and perhaps the most powerful entity in the universe itself. Yet considering the fact that we can now slowly adjust our means to survive and thrive without causing unnecessary harm what arguments can be presented against the animal ethics position?

By Selim 'Selim' Talat

The Philosophy Takeaway 'Animals' Issue 27

Peter Singer: - By Samuel Mack-Poole

Would you like (relative) infanticide with (relative) bestiality? An insight into the morality of Peter Singer:

Since Peter Singer’s controversial interview with Richard Dawkins, his prominence amongst the global intelligentsia is on the rise. He has been lauded by Dawkins as the “most moral man” he knows. This, obviously, is quite an endorsement from one of the world’s most publicity hungry scientists. But, as philosophers, we should question Singer’s arguments. It is our duty to do so. For if we don’t, the dogmatists will. And we all know how easy it is to argue with a dogmatist…

One of Peter Singer’s more controversial arguments (to the non-scientifically minded) is that we are not special just through the virtue of belonging to the species Homo sapien sapien (please note that we are a species of a common ancestor Homo sapien within two sub-species; our evolutionary cousin being Homo sapien neanderthalensis).

It is a scientific fact that we are animals. That is not in doubt. However, what we should question is: how are we unique or ‘special’? Singer has said in an interview, which is on YouTube, that humans have an ability to see their lives in a “biographical sense”. Humans can remember the past and plan for the future to a greater extent than any other species. He also states that humans “admittedly have capacities to reason and use language that exceeds any non-human animal.”

Despite this, Singer argues, quite truthfully, that not all humans have this ability. New-born infants don’t, and whilst I don’t want to broaden this debate too much, an embryo certainly doesn’t. Personally, I think Singer’s arguments regarding new-born infants are flawed. According to a Kant’s Doctrine of Right:

“Due to the congenital nature of life per se, every parent is morally obligated to care for their child until they are able to care for themselves. As a child has no ability to consent to be born, it is the moral duty and obligation to provide care and sustenance for their child.”

This, to me, highlights a moral case for every, and any, parent taking responsibly for their child – even in the case of disability. Singer rejects this argument, quite simply, because he does not think all human life is worth saving. He peremptorily rejects traditional and conservative moral values -- which isn’t necessarily a bad thing -- by claiming only life that is fully aware, sentient and has consciousness worthy of being regarded as a person.

In his own words, Singer has stated:

“I use the term "person" to refer to a being who (sic) is capable of anticipating the future, of having wants and desires for the future.”

Not only is this grammatically incorrect, but this is a very narrow way of valuing human species.  Furthermore, this acute argument leaves Singer wide open to a very slippery slope – almost a forty-five degree glacier. If a new born baby, which can survive independent of its biological mother, doesn’t meet Singer’s highly subjective criteria, does a one year old child? What about a toddler that is not capable of speech, but who can think of plans? How “new” is new-born? It would be unfair, however, not to mention biased, of me to misrepresent Singer.

He only advocates infanticide when the parents and doctors have agreed it is in the best interests of the child – in the case of extremely severe disability. He is very careful to be relative – for morality can only be applied to special circumstances. He, in no way, shape or form, advocates the, dare I say it, bestial butchering of hundreds of healthy new-borns.

 This, naturally, leads very nicely onto Singer’s views on bestiality. He doesn’t blindly believe that any sexual activity with an animal is “wrong” per se. In no way is sexual behaviour with animals a social norm – unless you are a young male from a rural area (you can look at Kinsey’s statistics for yourself) -- yet it is true that since the dawn of man, members of our species have chosen to interact sexually with non-human animals. As there are biblical statutes on the matter, it is quite clear a law was created to stop humans doing something that the majority did not.

However, a biblical approach to life is not (actively) followed by most in modern Britain. The majority of men are Onanists; we are, for the most, a liberal and accepting society. Sodomy, homosexuality -- amongst both genders -- can be practiced openly. As this is the case, why is sex with animals deemed “immoral” and illegal?

Singer has written an article called Heavy Petting in which he outlines his views on Zoophilia – after all, bestiality has such a bad name.  It is implied that Singer is a consequentialist (someone who believes the consequence(s) of one's action determines its moral value) and that he does not take a strictly rights-based approach to ethical issues. 

The following quote will illustrate Singer’s position:

“Sex with animals does not always involve cruelty.”

If both parties experience “mutually satisfying activities” of a sexual nature, Singer does not think the act is inherently immoral. However, Singer conveniently ignores the glaringly obvious, almost neon white, elephant in the room: consent! Tom Regan, a fellow philosopher, correctly states that the same argument can be used to validate a paedophile’s lust for children. If the logic is not sound in all contexts, the argument is invalid – isn’t it?

For some reason, my moral compass is not offended by the thought of a woman riding naked on a horse, and reaching orgasm as a result – but I am offended by the thought of a man fucking a sheep. I have to be honest, and admit to my moral hypocrisy; I have to work on my contradictions. In the end, I guess, I have to admit that I’m only (a) human (animal).

By Samuel Mack-Poole

The Philosophy Takeaway 'Animals' Issue 27

Spinoza on emotions, self-preservation and our being

Emotions: pesky little things aren’t they? Some bring joy; others anguish, with a whole host of different feelings betwixt the two. Think of the first time you fell in love, or got a present you really wanted, or passed an exam or driving test. Now, think of a saddening event. Thence, think of how you felt before and after. A whole host of emotions plague us, day in day out: to be torn in all directions is the natural human condition.

For a certain Mr Baruch de Spinoza, who believed that we are all defined through a non-religious God who ultimately controls all things in the universe, emotions are beautiful, logical things. This is because God is defined by logic: he is self-causing and his essence is this self-causation – he must thus continue to produce things to continue to exist. Logical, no? If we are thus created by a logical God, and so is everything else – every imaginable thing: plants, cars, muscles, thoughts, pens and paper, musings and eyebrow raises – emotions, too, are logical. ‘Emotions can be treated and explained through logic, as if they were geometry’, to paraphrase the good man. 

Power of acting; definition of emotions

How though, do we get to this idea? What, first of all, is an emotion? Spinoza tells us in the following statement to define it as the modes of a body by which the body’s ability to act is increased or decreased, the perceptions of these and the resultant reaction. 

Let us take the following example to understand Spinoza’s idea better: I am punched in the face. I see it coming, I feel it – my face feels it and my mind registers it simultaneously. I now stumble back: I cannot act, or be, as well as I could before the punch. I feel anger – my power of acting, of moving, of doing anything, may be better than before, but still not as good as before I was punched. Emotions cannot be controlled by us, says Spinoza – they are logically defined.

Spinoza gives us two base emotions, upon which all others are constructed: joy and sadness. It is through emotions that we can see how the environment is working for us. Emotions are the link between our inner state and the outer world. We can only find our ‘power of acting’ indirectly through the emotions – it can never be grasped directly.

We constantly desire to maintain a joyous, happy state – as everyone, of course, likes to be happy. We thus attempt to repel things that will have the ability to make our power of acting decrease – be it a sad event in our lives, an argument with somebody or a punch in the face; we always strive for the happier ones, as these give us a bit more ‘oomph’ and confidence.

Conatus

The notion of the ‘power of acting’, Spinoza takes yet a step further. Spinoza notes that we all have a certain drive within us: a desire and striving to stay alive. As we are all ultimately created by God, and he, as noted above, must necessarily create to keep existing, he leaves a little imprint of his power in all things, including humans: the desire to survive, the power of self-preservation at whatever cost. This power, he coins as the term ‘Conatus’.

The Conatus is in all things: it can be as obvious as someone running at us with a knife and us fleeing, or as abstract as an electron figuratively turning away from a proton or neutron. Self-preservation is what makes us, us. We do not want to be destroyed, hence we run – this is at our very being.

As the mind and body are simultaneously aware of each other through perceptions of the outside world (as one hits the body, the mind registers it and vice versa) and as the body cannot come into contact with something that would destroy it, neither then, can the mind. This means that the mind cannot think of anything that would destroy it: it cannot comprehend or even have a vague notion of death. To have a vague notion of death, would equate to its feeling of death through the body and it cannot do this, for if it had felt that, it would, by definition, be dead and thus unthinking. As a result, for Spinoza – the mind can only feel incredible highs and the depths of sadness, but nothing beyond that: death is not an option.

A few questions...

This also means that suicide is not an option – how is this explained? Spinoza would say that we can be killed, but only through an external cause, from an outside object. The mind would have no idea that we would die if someone stabs us: it would only sense threat. Can suicide ever exist in a Spinozian world?

Spinoza goes on to elaborate on every conceivable emotion in over 40 pages, all based upon the base emotions of happiness and sadness. Is it right to say that these are the basic emotions that we all feel?

Spinoza says that our basic desire for self-preservation makes us who we are. Is there not more to us than this?

Joe Sturdy

Spinoza’s Ethics - By Joe Sturdy

 Spinoza’s Ethics

Imagine that there is a God. Not a religious God, but just a thing, a power, called God – it is in nature and is absolutely infinite, that is – it has no beginning or end and causes itself. This is a key concept. It is the only such thing in the universe and can only be so, as it causes itself and for anything else to do so, would mean that it wouldn’t be by itself in the cosmos. You get the idea.

This ‘God’ must exist. As a result, if it must exist and self-causes itself, it must have some life-force. It cannot negate itself: it must thus produce something to carry on living, says Spinoza: he calls these 'somethings' modes. This is a very versatile term: they can be thoughts, imaginings, memories or anything at all physical – not just human bodies, but animals, carrier bags, cars, trees, the molecules and atoms that we breathe and come into a contact with on a daily basis. Think of a mode like this: the cricket ball smashing the window, the person tripping over the ball that was just kicked. Each of these, the cricket ball, the window, the person are modes.  These are produced endlessly, constantly. These are an abundance of richness.

As each of these is produced by God, which has a certain power as its life-force: the power to exist and thus produce, each of these modes too, has a little bit of God’s power in them. While they cannot, as God does, create themselves, they do have a bit of life-force within them: the power to keep living at all costs. This makes sense to us with humans: we snatch a hand away from intense heat, but what about a table? Spinoza would say that its property of staying upright and not breaking would consist as its life-force.

God has this life-force and constantly has to pump these modes out into existence, for that is what its essence and self-cause is: the force of needing to do whatever is needed to carry on existing. God cannot negate itself – it must keep on existing: by production of modes. As a result, we should see God as a power.

What sort of power? ‘One that creates all events and all things’, says Spinoza rather simplistically. The things, we understand: modes. But events? Each little event – the bag floating up into the air (caused by the movement of air), or the cricket ball smashing the window? Really, this is caused by God? Ultimately, yes; except to us, we don’t picture it as that; rather we see it as the cricket ball that was thrown by the child, smashing the window. In one way, that is of course true: the cricket ball did smash the window; modes can still interact with one another – but God is, in Spinoza’s eyes, the cause of events, as he produced the modes.

At this point, then: What have we got? Let’s take stock. The following points should be able to be seen:

An infinite (never ending, never beginning), self-caused and producing being that must necessarily do this to exist: ‘God’. It is non-religious. It produces a huge abundance of modes.

Modes – thoughts, memories, imaginings; physical things – atoms, molecules, trees, animals, human beings, carrier bags, cars, sugar, wood – you name it. These are produced by God and have a little bit of desire to do what they can to survive within them.

At this point, a couple of points should be made: if this has been set out well, it should be clear by now that, while we traditionally think that life events revolve around one another: the child cries and the mother sees this and picks it up and makes it happy again; what actually occurs is that each of these events is determined by God.

As a result, choice does not exist. Everything is determined by God, through God: he is the mover and shaker of the universe – he is within everything. Even though modes (the child and mother, for example) can still interact, ultimately all this is decided by God. We are, contrary to our beliefs not the most intelligent things on Earth: we are just another mode, fighting for survival like everything else (or so says Spinoza in part 1 of his Ethics, but will he maintain this deterministic world view in later parts? - Ed).

The traditional hierarchies of the Church, and indeed life, are now abandoned. There is no more supreme being: he is in all of us, in all things. Equality, should, according to Spinoza, now exist.

By Joe Sturdy