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If ethics is what you do, then it seems likely that politics is what you do, too. For instance, the other day I received two primary ballots from my county clerk's office (here in Colorado we have the option of voting in the Democratic primary or the Republican primary). Looking at all the names confirmed my commitment to abstain from voting for any of the candidates because none of these people can truly represent me and the rather out-of-the-mainstream way that I think about res publica. Then I had an additional realization: the most philosophical approach to politics is not to delegate my decision-making powers but to make my own decisions.
How do I cash out this rather abstract statement? Through the practices I've made part of my own life. As one example, I am in favor of immigration because I think that people who choose to become Americans not only help us live up to our ideals but also make America a better place; yet instead of forming opinions about immigration policy or contacting my elected representatives, I tutor immigrants in English as a second language (which, I must say, often turns into "America as a second culture"). As another example, I continue to be horrified by Vladimir Putin's despicable war on Ukraine; yet instead of closely following the situation on the ground or trying vainly to influence diplomatic efforts to end the war, I donate to charities in Ukraine that are helping the long-suffering people there. Finally, as previously described, I also serve as president of my neighborhood association, where I've been able to make a difference in the quality of life enjoyed by my neighbors. I find all of these activities much more meaningful than protesting, voting, or reading the news.
(Cross-posted at Beautiful Wisdom.)
FOR FURTHER EXPLORATION
It seems to be a truism that the real task of writing begins with the editing phase; indeed, apparently many writers slave over two, three, four, or more drafts before they're happy with the final product. Yet this is not my experience at all: almost everything I publish is a first draft. It's true that usually I think about a topic, often for quite a while, before putting pen to paper; with my forthcoming book about Aristotle I've even gone so far as to make lists of the points to cover in each chapter before sitting down to write. However, for me the composing itself flows quickly and easily. Instead of seeing the task of writing as removing the cruft, I prefer not to generate any cruft in the first place, which strikes me as much more straightforward. Am I a freak of nature or am I missing something essential? Then again, I don't consider myself to be a writer, so maybe it doesn't matter if I'm doing it all wrong...
(Cross-posted at Beautiful Wisdom.)
FOR FURTHER EXPLORATION
Recently a relative of mine observed that in many ways I'm a better Christian than a certain other member of the family who makes a great show of religion but isn't nearly as thoughtful, giving, and helpful as I am. My friend Adrian and I talked about a related topic in our most recent Psy-Phi Dialogue, but during our conversation I didn't have the reference, which I can share now: Peter Harrison's 2011 Gifford Lectures on natural theology, published as The Territories of Science and Religion and cited in Clare Carlisle's book Spinoza's Religion. Harrison uncovers the fact that the 16th and 17th centuries witnessed a substantive change from "Christian religion" as meaning how one behaves (equivalent to "Christian virtue") to "the Christian religion" as meaning what one believes (to be contrasted with, for instance, "the Jewish religion"). This change has many implications that I could explore in depth, but I like to keep things short and sweet so I won't bore you with a philosophical and historical disquisition. Suffice it to say that I have long attempted to live by the aphorism that ethics is what you do, not what you profess. This is especially so in the personal world of your relationships with friends, family, neighbors, and colleagues. Back in my ideological youth I used to get worked up about other people's opinions (of which I had plenty myself!), but over time I've mellowed out in that regard while assiduously cultivating higher standards for myself with regard to behavior. I still have a long way to go, but I'm getting there...
(Cross-posted at Beautiful Wisdom.)
FOR FURTHER EXPLORATION
In 323 BCE, Aristotle was charged by the Athenians with the capital offense of impiety (the same charge that led to their execution of Socrates 76 years earlier) - although modern scholars think that Aristotle's ties to Alexander the Great played a large role, since Aristotle was suspected of being a foreign agent for Macedonian interests and was fair game after Alexander's death earlier that year. To prevent the Athenians from "sinning twice against philosophy", as he put it, Aristotle fled to Chalkis, where a year later he died of natural causes at the age of 62.
Well, the more things change, the more they stay the same. Yesterday I learned, via a mention at The Hinternet, that an ancient philosophy scholar named Svetlana Mesyats has been put under house arrest by Vladimir Putin's goons for alleged financial irregularities related to a years-long effort to translate the works of Aristotle into Russian. As her former colleague Elizaveta Shcherbakovba explains, not only are the charges trumped up, but the real reason for targeting Mesyats is that Russian authoritarians like Aleksandr Dugin harbor a hatred of Aristotle because he was "the founder of the Western theory of democracy" - even going so far as to label the Institute of Philosophy, where Mesyats has worked for many years, as "the last refuge of scoundrels, traitors, foreign agents, defectors, Russophobes, and extremists."
Much as the Asharite school of Islamic theology felt threatened by (and ultimately went on to snuff out) the open inquiry of the Aristotelian-leaning Mutazilite school a thousand years ago, so also today atavistic authoritarians such as Putin and Dugin feel threatened by the very possibility of a translation of Aristotle's works into Russian. Apparently ~2400 years after his death Aristotle is still the ultimate foreign agent, and scholars of great integrity like Svetlana Mesyats are paying the price for their apostasy.
(Cross-posted at Beautiful Wisdom.)
FOR FURTHER EXPLORATION
Some things stick in your mind. I recall a comment that a friend made fifteen or twenty years ago to the effect that after your spouse dies you shouldn't make any major changes for at least twelve months. Why he said that I don't know, but in my experience so far the comment doesn't ring true, at least not for me.
Talking with another friend over lunch today, I reflected on the strangeness of adjusting to my new life without Elisa. My personal identity and my day-to-day life have been so intertwined with Elisa's presence for over thirty years that the scale of the adjustment is enormous. Inevitably, I find, my very identity is changing in ways that can be hard to fathom.
As one example, Elisa was fairly cautious and analytical about spending money or changing our investments. I'm pretty much that way, too, but I can also be decisive. Over the last year or so I've become comfortable with a modified investment strategy that weights more heavily toward stocks, and over the last few weeks I've been putting that strategy into effect (in fact I've gotten rid of long-term bonds entirely, contrary to the Permanent Portfolio approach I discovered and implemented about ten years ago). More radically, after a series of conversations with a good friend of mine I got interested in buying a rental property, and last week I closed on a small home about five minutes from my house, which I plan to rent out initially to one of my best friends. I doubt that I would have done these things in concert with Elisa, at least not without a few years of careful planning and discussion, but on my own I've made these changes quite quickly. And there are other examples, too - I've bought a few musical instruments, donated two old vehicles to benefit our local jazz radio station, made contributions to some new charities, etc.
In a way I feel somewhat guilty about all this, as if I'm betraying Elisa and the shared life we built together. Intellectually I realize that I'm simply exploring new paths and starting to find a more independent identity, but emotionally it doesn't always feel right. Although change is inevitable, I feel the need to honor continuity, too. It can be rather confusing at times...
(Cross-posted at Beautiful Wisdom.)
FOR FURTHER EXPLORATION
There is something garish about our garrulous society. Everything can be talked about, and everything is. No experience is so private, so personal, so serious, or so sacred that it cannot be endlessly dissected, vivisected, violated, and exposed. This strikes me as a distinctly ugly and unseemly way to live. Better and more beautiful was the attitude of the ancients, well described by Pierre Hadot on page 174 of his Selected Writings:
Generally speaking, from the fact that the ancients spoke little, or at least with great sobriety, about certain experiences that we moderns describe with such emphasis and abundance, we must not conclude that they did not live these experiences, or that they experienced them only in a vague and imperfect manner. On the contrary, it is this half-silence which betrays the importance that such experiences had for them. There was in ancient culture a tendency to remain silent about what was essential.
Someone will quote Wittgenstein: "Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must remain silent." Yet there is a vast distance between his "cannot" and the "should not" of the ancients.
Talk cheapens.
(Cross-posted at Beautiful Wisdom.)
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