A Historical House

A Historical House

I live in a historically designated house. Recently, I decided to look more closely into the history. It has changed my attitude to where I live. The house was built in 1923 of locally sourced coral rock, mined from the Venetian pool. It lies half a mile outside what is now Coral Gables, and is the only coral rock house in this part of Miami. Coral Gables itself has quite a few coral rock houses built around the same time as mine. Such houses ceased being built soon after because of a shortage of rock, so they are in short supply; they are now regarded as rare gems. George Merrick’s house was built as early as 1906, the oldest house in what would become Coral Gables being built in 1899; the others were built between 1921 and 1926. Coral Gables itself was created and incorporated in 1925 (Coconut Grove was incorporated in 1919). So, my house was part of the beginnings of what is now a famous town—the “City Beautiful”. It is indeed a very nice house. It still has the original tiled floors. The beige rock still reflects the sunlight beautifully. It has an extensive tropical garden with many rare plants. My study looks out over a lush green landscape. It is possible to find a nice video about in on YouTube by Ashley Cusack, a local realtor, by searching under 2411 SW 62nd Avenue, 33155. Somehow, I had been taking all this for granted, but now I see why the house is historically designated and cannot be torn down or extensively reworked. It was constructed at roughly the same time as the historic Biltmore hotel, which is a couple of miles away. These were the original buildings of what would have been a small village a century ago. It is now regarded as the equivalent of Beverly Hills, and is indeed rated as more expensive than that location.

I don’t know who built this house and for what purpose, or why it is at some distance from the cluster of similar houses that constituted the nascent town. The connecting road, Coral Way, was not constructed till 1922 and would have been primitive by modern standards. The other houses surrounding my house were built in the 1950s and 1970s; there is nothing like my house near me. It is unique in what is now South Miami. I picture it as isolated, proudly alone in a tropical landscape. Was it some kind of plantation or just a choice by the owner to keep his distance? I assume the original owner knew George Merrick, given his proximity and importance to the town. The owner will have seen the Biltmore grow up, though living in splendid isolation. I have my own kind of isolation, though now I am surrounded by newer houses with a children’s hospital at the end of the road. I skateboard where there used to be only vegetation. I do regard it as a haven and have found it conducive to contemplation. It is quiet and restful. I have my trampoline, table tennis table, and knife throwing range; also, two motorcycles and a car. I sold the attached property recently, so now another big modern house has been built next to mine—the march of progress, I suppose. I now contemplate this history and wonder about previous occupants going back 102 years. It seems fitting that the house should now be occupied by a philosopher nostalgic for the past.

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American Philosophical Association

American Philosophical Association

I first attended the APA in 1977 and have attended it many times since, in various capacities. I found it quite enjoyable. I would go to papers, look at new books, hang out with old friends. I thought it was a good thing. But I haven’t been in twenty years, and it has been really impossible for the last twelve years. You know why; it begins with the letter C. No doubt there have been earnest meetings devoted to the subject, peopled by strident zealots and weak-kneed enablers—I would not expect to receive any invitations from this institution these days. Do you think I was ever contacted to offer my point of view? Of course not. Par for the course, you might say. But that isn’t really the problem: what would it be like for me to attend an APA meeting? Socially, personally—what would it be like? Some would feel it their duty to shun me; others would be sheepish. What would people say? What would I say? There’s the rub: I would float in a haze of hatred. I would look at people with ill-disguised contempt, utter disdain. If anyone spoke to me, I would be cool at best, furious at worst. It would be awkward beyond belief. What if I spoke up at a paper? How would that be received? What if I ran into old friends I haven’t heard from in years? How would the conversation go? It is unimaginable. I see myself walking into a crowded room and the chatter quieting to a hush, with some people walking out. Or would people just pretend I wasn’t there? Do you think I would try to make myself agreeable? I would not. It’s fortunate that I live in Miami where the APA never travels, or else this thought experiment might become actualized.

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A New Seven Deadly Sins

A New Seven Deadly Sins

I reject the old list of deadly sins, but what do I put in its place? The following: cowardice, conformity, credulity, malicious envy, stupidity, irrationality, ideology. These are mainly designed to fit contemporary academics, particularly American philosophers.

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Semantics of Sin

Semantics of Sin

We all know about the so-called seven deadly sins: envy, gluttony, greed, lust, pride, sloth, and wrath. These are curious words; we do well to delve into their meaning. What is the correct semantic theory of sin words? We can contrast these words with other words in the moral vocabulary: murder, theft, lying, ingratitude, promise-breaking, betrayal, and others. These words designate types of action that are intrinsically and necessarily immoral; it isn’t that these things are immoral only when excessive or extreme or out of control. But the sin words aren’t like that; they designate types of action that are only immoral when excessive or extreme or out of control. The underlying act isn’t immoral at all, just its degree. Let’s go through them one by one to verify this claim.

The dictionary will be our guide. For “envy” the OED gives us “discontented or resentful longing aroused by another’s possessions, qualities, or luck”. On the face of it this does not amount to sin (“an immoral act considered to be a transgression against divine law”). Surely, you can long for what someone else has without doing or thinking anything immoral—you might long for their virtue, for example. This may lead to discontent and even resentment, but not to any immoral behavior. We get closer to sin when we read in the Shorter OEDof “hostility, malice, enmity” occasioned by such longing: that is, envy is sinful when and only when it leads to such attitudes or actions. Malicious envy is bad but not envy as such. True, the longing involved can easily lead to bad envious behavior, but the longing is not itself a sin—or else we are all doomed before we get started. Of course, we often wish for what others have. The underlying desire or emotion is not the sin but rather its expression in bad behavior and attitude. So, don’t berate yourself for feeling envy, or fear eternal damnation, just don’t give in to any tendencies you may have towards nasty behavior directed against the envied individual.

For “gluttony” we read “habitual greed or excess in eating”. That gets it right straight off the bat: there is nothing sinful about acting on a healthy appetite or lengthy starvation, just don’t do it excessively or selfishly. Suppose you first consume a good amount of food but then go on to stuff yourself excessively: that is not a good thing to do, especially if others are thereby deprived. But the underlying act of eating a lot is not in itself bad—as murdering or stealing even in moderation clearly is. The sin is one of excess not merely eating heartily. Do it, by all means, but don’t overdo it. But we don’t say “Break promises, by all means, but don’t over-break them!” Gluttony is (habitually, compulsively) eating beyond requirements, not eating till you are adequately full when hungry. There is nothing even a bit wrong about eating as such—as there is always something a bit wrong about murdering, however moderate. Sins are sins according to degree, not by nature or definition of the act in question.

The third deadly sin is called variously “greed” or “avarice”, so we get “intense or selfish desire for wealth, power, or food” and “extreme greed for wealth or material gain”, respectively. A pattern is emerging: it isn’t a desire for wealth, power, and food that is the problem, or even a strong desire for these things; it is extreme or excessive desire for them. Not so for murder and theft: here any desire for these things, or action based on such desire, is morally wrong. What counts as extreme or excessive is left open, but it is supposed that there is such a thing as too much such desire—enough to tip the balance into sin. It is not sinful to desire wealth, power, and food, even strongly, but it is sinful to do this excessively (whatever that means). When the desire for material gain reaches a certain point, it turns from healthy accumulation to mortal sin (capitalists will feel relieved).

Now we come to lust, everyone’s favorite deadly sin. The dictionary supplies “strong sexual desire” and then adds “a sensuous appetite regarded as sinful”. Well, which is it? Clearly, there is nothing sinful about strong sexual desire—isn’t all sexual desire strong (or nearly all)? Two people in love will be strongly sexually attracted to each other—is that supposed to be bad? Of course not—what, we should all be weakly attracted to the one we love? Not even the hint of a sin is in sight here. We only get into sin territory when we say “regarded as sinful”. The word “regarded” is doing sterling work here—rightly or wrongly so regarded? Obviously not wrongly, but then rightly on what basis? We might try “excessively”, but relative to what? Perhaps the idea is that we shade into sinful lust, as opposed to healthy sexual appetite, when we do it all day every day, or anywhere we happen to be, or make undue noise. This is all pretty shaky stuff, and doesn’t really correspond to the intent of the concept—which is really to press a puritanical agenda. In any case, it is hard to see what the sin is supposed to be—it certainly isn’t tantamount to rape or assault. The underlying act is hardly sinful by anyone’s standards—badly wanting to sleep with your lover is not any kind of crime or moral failing. It is difficult to see why lust is on the list at all, now or ever, lexically speaking.[1] Perhaps a lust for puritanical punishment lies behind it.

Pride is an interesting case: why should having a high opinion of oneself be a sin? If solidly based, it is simply an acknowledgment of truth. Proper pride is not improper! Can’t you be proud that you are not guilty of the other sins on the list, given that you are not? The puzzle is removed by noting the dictionary definition, but it is important to see that pride as such is not sinful: what is bad is “the quality of having an excessively high opinion of oneself”. The sin is in the error not in the nature of the attitude—exaggerating one’s own qualities, not soberly recognizing them for what they are. If you are proud of your tennis stroke or handwriting, you may simply be aware of their merits; the fault comes when you overestimate these qualities. This may be just bad judgement on your part, or it may spring from a need to compete with others irrespective of the facts. In any case, there is nothing intrinsically sinful about pride, as long as it is correct and rationally based. Having a good opinion of yourself is nothing like being a liar or a thief or a traitor. Would Newton go to hell for having a good opinion of his scientific abilities?

Sloth is an odd one too: how does it differ from taking a well-earned rest? The OED gives us “reluctance to work or make an effort; laziness”. Don’t you think a coalminer after a long strenuous shift deserves to put his feet up? He is very reluctant to do any more work or make an effort of any kind; he feels “lazy”. Taking a rest is no kind of immoral act. What is objectionable is being excessively work-shy—never working, always shirking. The hard question is when taking a rest turns into culpable laziness—the alleged sin of sloth. What is the criterion for this? When is the sin upon you? Many people don’t get enough rest because they are afflicted with the “protestant work ethic”; many are “addicted” to work; many can’t leave their work “at the office”. This is a fault that can rise to the level of wrongdoing, as in neglecting one’s family or one’s “deeper self”. And it is hardly a sin to sleep in on Saturday morning. What is bad is laziness in the face of moral demands—not giving a shit about anybody but yourself. Moral sloth is a sin, no question; but much inactivity has no moral dimension—it’s just lying about doing nothing. Sloth can be sinful (immoral), but it isn’t always. Doing nothing all day is nothing like actively murdering and robbing.

Finally, my personal favorite, wrath or anger. I am all in favor of it. We need much more of it in my view. Anger, I love it. Why? Because anger is the chief force opposing evil—the more anger there is, the less evil there will be. Someone who is never angry at injustice and cruelty is morally defective in my book. So, why is it included in the list of sins? It’s because anger can become extreme, excessive, overdone, out of control. The dictionary is well aware of this, defining “wrath” as “extreme anger”. Again, it is not clear why extreme anger should be counted a sin—can’t you be legitimately extremely angry about vile despicable actions? Should you be only mildly angry at history’s worst tyrants, or your traitorous friends? Absurd: anger can have degrees and a high degree of it is no sign of sinfulness. What is meant, presumably, is the normative judgment that the anger in question is excessive compared to the facts—unreasonable, hysterical, dangerous. This is certainly a moral failing, a “sin”. An irascible individual is not a virtuous individual, especially if he or she expresses anger unrestrainedly. This is certainly deplorable. But that isn’t always the case; there is plenty of justified moral outrage in the world—not enough, in my opinion. Anger is the backbone of morality. Bad anger is bad, for sure, but anger as such is not always bad.

The pattern here is obvious. None of the actions and attitudes named on the list of seven deadly sins is really sinful; what is sinful are certain immoral examples of these actions and attitudes. When the dictionary definition uses words like “extreme” and “excessive” it is slyly introducing a normative evaluative element. All the work of defining sin is done by this element; the names of the alleged sins tell us nothing morally relevant, though they clearly purport to. There is nothing sinful, even slightly, about feeling envy, dining heartily, wanting nice things, sexually desiring strongly, being proud of one’s accomplishments, avoiding work when tired, or being angry at evil actions. Things only go wrong when these attitudes slide into immoral territory—into malice, selfishness, acquisitiveness, sexual misbehavior, self-aggrandizement, culpable laziness, and unwarranted anger. When this is the traditional list does not tell us; so, it is next to useless as a guide to right conduct. Indeed, it is positively misleading, because it brands perfectly okay attitudes and actions as sinful, or leaves the moral agent unsure when he or she has crossed the line. It makes people nervous, especially when the penalties are so high (hell etc.). It should really be abolished. It has done real harm in the sexual sphere and has encouraged false modesty in the pride department. It has also given anger and hatred an unfairly bad name. It is actually a recipe for pointless guilt, perhaps intentionally so; politically, it is pretty suspect. It’s a good way to keep people down and under authoritarian control. Virtually everyone is “guilty” of the underlying acts, though not of the excessive immoral versions of them.[2]

[1] Simon Blackburn has a nicely tolerant attitude to lust in Lust (2004).

[2] Instead of the seven deadly sins we should call them the seven harmless pastimes. Some are even quite enjoyable, such as buying stuff, eating, and copulating.

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Absurd Cults

Absurd Cults

One of the more hilarious aspects of my situation has received virtually no attention. The university actually accused me of trying to start a cult. Yes, you read that right—I am (or was) an aspiring cult leader! True, this is not against university rules, so I couldn’t be formally charged with it; but it was thrown in there as evidence of my dangerous tendencies. I am actually surprised the media and philosophy profession did not latch onto this—isn’t it juicy enough? Why would I be accused of trying to form a cult? It all has to do with my work on the hand and human nature. I had remarked to the student that we could form a cult of the hand—as a joke. I even wrote a humorous statement going into the beliefs of such a cult. Of course, there is nothing wrong with cults as such: the OED defines “cult” as “a system of religious devotion directed towards a particular figure or object”, which pretty much covers all religions. My “cult” of the hand was not intended to be religious but scientific, but the point is that it was tongue-in-cheek. Evidently, the lurid connotations of the word “cult” were sufficient to alarm university administrators. A quick word from me would have cleared the matter up, but I never had that word—also pretty funny. I lost my job (partly) because of suspicion of forming a cult. Isn’t that hilarious? Isn’t it very Monty Python? There could be a Life of Colin like the Life of Brian in which a philosophy professor loses his job (or is crucified) because he had the idea of jokingly forming a cult. You have to laugh.

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Bald Eagles and Religion

Bald Eagles and Religion

Religion is typically composed of beliefs, emotions, and practices. These are logically detachable. In particular, existential beliefs in respect of supernatural entities are not necessary to the existence of religious emotions and practices. In fact, they can undermine such emotions and practices if they are wildly implausible or rebarbative. If people find the beliefs hard to accept, they will tend to discard the other components of the religion in question. Moral: don’t build crazy beliefs into your religious system. Christianity does a lot of this, while not emphasizing emotion and practice. Buddhism does the opposite. Zoolatry asks for nothing but ordinary natural beliefs combined with attitudes, emotions, practices, and moral prescriptions. It is therefore not vulnerable to ontological doubts.

Bald eagles have been in the news lately, an account of a family of them in Colorado. A camera has been installed in their nest giving them fulltime worldwide exposure. They are watched, religiously. Just yesterday a big event occurred: a fledging took flight for the first time and we all saw it happen. There was universal celebration. It was indeed a stirring moment: the hesitation, tentative flapping, and then the launch into space and successful flight. The symbolism was obvious: the tight-knit family, growth and maturation, then bold independence in the form of actual soaring. What struck me was how easy it was for people, especially children, to become riveted and inspired by this real-life story. It would be so easy to build a religion around these experiences. But this religion wouldn’t postulate any supernatural eagles—eagle gods—but stick with the actual specimens we can all see with our own eyes. Nothing else is necessary to generate the required uplift. Don’t make the actual eagles look less than their supernatural counterparts; accept them for what they are in all their glory. And emphasize the ethical aspects of the situation—how wrong it would be to disrupt the proceedings or (heaven forbid!) kill the eagles. By all means take pictures and try to learn more about eagles. Don’t belittle or infantilize the birds. I myself own a large glossy book dedicated to eagles, covering all 68 species of them, with magnificent illustrations (The Empire of the Eagle, by Mike Unwin and David Tipling), which I have read from cover to cover. (I have similar books on whales, lizards, and butterflies.)

I would say that the Abrahamic religions have been, if anything, anti-animal, not merely neglectful of animals (some of this no doubt has to do with sex). Greek religion was too humanistic and the Abrahamic religions have been too theistic. I would describe myself as an anti-humanist and anti-theist. Animals need a place in religion—and it is entirely natural to human beings to find a place for them. The eagle readily evokes religious feelings, as recent events illustrate. I am not the first to surmise that religiously based mistreatment of animals has fed into mistreatment of other humans; and of course, much violence has sprung from religious intolerance. It isn’t the existence of religion that causes these problems, as one might be tempted to suppose; it is choosing the wrong religion. Probably, this stems from an attachment to monarchical political arrangements—politics precedes religion. Democracy has yet to include animals apart from the human animal. It is all very well to dwell on utilitarian arguments in favor of better treatment of animals, but we need a deeper basis in religious sentiment. Hence, zoolatry.[1]

[1] I don’t think it’s a good idea to make religion too formulaic and formalistic; better to keep it flexible and loose. Religion should be plastic not rigid. Too many rules spoil the spirit of it. The hippies were right about this. But I don’t subscribe to the slogan “All you need is love”; I prefer “All you need is respect for life”.

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Anger and Lust

Anger and Lust

Anger is closely related to hatred. The OED gives us “strong feeling of annoyance, displeasure, or hostility” for “anger”. For “hate” we have “intense dislike; strong aversion”. Hatred typically begins in anger at a perceived wrong; anger becomes hatred. It isn’t exactly the same as anger: there can be hatred without anger and anger without hatred. But the two are frequently found together. Anger is typically expressed in certain kinds of behavior: hostile, punitive, violent. Hitting is characteristic of it. It is therefore body-directed in its intentionality: beating a child or animal, striking someone, slapping, kicking, etc. It is an emotion hard to control, often morally bad, seeking outlet. It is dangerous. When it congeals into hatred, we have a toxic or explosive situation; the angry hate-filled person is best avoided, especially if you are the object of it. The irascible individual is not fun to be around and is roundly condemned.

Love is the opposite of hate. The OED gives us “an intense feeling of deep affection—deep romantic or sexual attachment to someone”. Here we are thinking of ordinary adult love and marriage—not more abstract forms of love with other objects (e.g., love of literature). But what is the analogue of anger in the case of love—what often precedes love or turns into love? Is it friendship or moral approval or respect? None of the above. Surely the answer is lust: first strong sexual attraction, then enduring love. There is generally a lust stage in the formation of romantic love—though lust may not lead to love in all cases. Lust and love are not identical. Lust, like anger, is a strong emotion that can easily develop into something deeper or more serious or longer-lasting. Notably, it is body-directed: the intentional object of lust is the other’s body, and characteristic forms of behavior may be predicted. In the case of anger, hitting is the indicated behavior; in the case of lust, touching is the preferred expression. Hitting and touching are powerfully present in anger and lust. A person may need to show serious self-control in order not to express the emotion in these ways, and of course not always succeed in suppressing the indicated action. Bad things can happen in both cases. What is interesting, conceptually, is the natural pairing of these emotions: love and hate going with lust and anger, along with their characteristic behavioral expression. There is a settled long-term emotion that is tied to a more episodic short-term emotion with urgent behavioral consequences. Thus, love and hate have a shared “logic” in respect of etiology and background. Anger is hatred’s lust, and lust is love’s anger. Anger and lust are functionally similar: both involve body-directed action—striking and stroking, respectively. Your body makes contact with the other’s body.

The brain must organize these reactions appropriately: it must not substitute one for the other—striking instead of stroking, or stroking instead of striking. It might get confused on occasion. Lust might come out in the shape of violence, and anger might come out in the shape of erotic touching. The two are uncomfortably similar, perhaps sharing brain circuits. Love and hate may coexist, notoriously, and anger and lust may share a deep structure. This could lead to a conflicted psyche, a Freudian frenzy or foul-up. What if the object of a person’s anger is literally identical to the object of his or her lust? That could produce a combustible situation—does the person strike or stroke, or both? Is this what “make-up sex” is all about? (Just asking.) This is dangerous territory, rooted in the architecture of the emotional system. No wonder people are so messed up.

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