Another condition which effects what
we say we know and believe is the prevailing impact of utilitarianism on Western
culture. That is, the criteria for evaluating whether a proposition is to be believed
or not is not actually whether it is true
but whether it works. Perhaps I
have put the contrast too strongly: it would be hard to imagine that some
element of ‘truth’ is irrelevant in most people’s thinking about what they
believe. Pragmatism is a very powerful consideration, and increasingly so since
we think we can measure what works in a public and objective way and thus have
an actual discussion about it with others.
This may seem surprising since we live
in the age where our heroes and saints are scientists, who seem to have a grasp
on tangible reality more than the rest of us and so can pronounce about the
truth of the material with authority. But the real power of the scientific
paradigm is that it appears to work so successfully in making our lives more pleasurable.
It offers us a great deal on truth. ‘The Truth’ itself is, in any case, some
distance off from the ordinary person, who cannot possibly hope to evaluate the
claims and counter-claims of specialists.
Now, at the same time, many Westerners
have found this materialist pragmatism crass and disheartening – and unspiritual.
Counting the bottom line is objective, but it isn’t pretty. And at that level,
it doesn’t ‘work’ as it claims it should. It certainly doesn’t produce the kind
of happy lives that it promises. And so, many Western people have found
themselves attracted to Eastern religions and philosophies. The irony is that
Westerners cannot even at this point rid themselves of their utilitarianism –
because they find that Eastern religion ‘works’ for them. Adopting an Eastern
religion isn’t for Westerners usually a matter of believing various
metaphysical propositions, but rather of experiencing the benefits of religious
practices: a better work-life balance, a more peaceful inner world,
opportunities for doing good works and a healthier lifestyle.
What matters for people is what will
work in the living of life. In a sense this is indisputable: who doesn’t want a
life that actually works? What I think needs challenging is the criteria by
which we think we rightly evaluate whether things are ‘working’ for us. What
are these criteria? How can we accurately measure whether they are working or
not? Over what period of time should we consider whether something is working?
There’s two important things that
religious beliefs introduce into the discussion here which make an evaluation
by the simple criteria of ‘does it work’ even more complex. The first of these
is that human suffering might be redemptive in some way. That is, something
that might appear not to be ‘working’ might, through divine intervention or whatever
means, turn out to be the epitome of human action. This is an alarming thought
for relatively comfortable Westerners to confront. And I’d hasten to add that
the religions have very different ways of accounting for suffering. Some in the
Eastern traditions see suffering as a result of negative karma. Christianity,
for its part, names suffering as evil in and of itself, but capable of being
woven into the divine plan for extraordinary good.
The second element of most traditional
religious belief is that of the afterlife. Again, the religions differ
massively on the details of the afterlife. But an afterlife of any kind offers
a point of evaluation for human life that lies beyond this world. It speaks of
a perspective on human events that is beyond our knowing at this point. It relativises
our contemporary evaluations of the viability of the lives we are leading. We
cannot yet see what it mean for life to ‘work’ and so we need a framework that
gives us more than pragmatic answers to our most profound questions.
1 comment:
This post reminds me of one of my favourite passages from "Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead". Ros & Guild are trying to determine which way is north....
Guildenstern: If [...]the sun is over there for instance, that would be northerly. On the other hand, if it's not morning and the sun is over there, that would still be northerly. To put it another way, if we came from down there, and it's morning, the sun would be up there, but if it's actually over there and it's still morning, we must have come from back there, and if that's southerly, and the sun is really over there, then it's the afternoon. However, if none of these are the case...
Rosencrantz: Why don't you go and have a look?
Guildenstern: Pragmatism. Is that all you have to offer?
Post a Comment