A Weird and Petty Beauty
There is something I do once in a while which is a little bit weird, but I can tell you about it (and risk the ridicule that may follow) because I know that I’m really NOT that weird, that everybody does weird little stuff on their own time and this is just one of mine. Occasionally I like to take a Hall’s cough drop wrapper, and restore it to a perfectly flat piece of paper. I take the waxy, crumpled-up wrapper from a Hall’s Cough Drop, and wash it. Washing it causes it to flatten out, lose most of its wrinkles, and then I let it dry for a half hour or so, then place it (still damp) on top of a piece of paper on a flat surface, with another piece of paper on top of it and a heavy book on top of that. After a day or so the little crumpled-up piece of waxy paper becomes a flat, crisp square of waxy paper. I have a stack or 20 or 30 of these on a bookcase behind me. I do the same with currency sometimes.
I could say that I don’t know why I enjoy doing this, but actually I think I do. Why do we comb our hair—and, more importantly, why do we expect that other people should comb their hair? Because we like order, and disorder offends us. A colleague’s messy work area offends us. We all like, on some level, to take something which is out of order, and make order out of it. I like to find an old, tarnished penny dropped in a parking lot, and see if I can clean it off and restore it to a bright and shiny finish. Beauty is a form of order; a rose or an orchid has a very strong sense of order about it, whereas grass and weeds are disorderly. Taking a crumpled piece of paper and restoring it to a flat, crisp piece of paper is creating order, and thus, on a very low level, creating beauty.
Medicine and Philosophy
Many years ago I observed that everything which is a medicine is also a poison, and everything which is a poison is also a medicine. I would be surprised if there is any exception to the rule that every medicine is poisonous in large doses and poisonous in the wrong applications. For the opposite rule, that everything which is a poison is also a medicine, I do not know of any exception, but I am certain that there must be poisons which have no known medical use. But in those cases, I would suspect that this is merely that the medical use of the poison has not yet been found.
It occurred to me recently that the same is also true in philosophy: that everything which is a curative in philosophy is also a poison, and that every poisonous idea has its safe and appropriate use. By the "thing" in "everything" I mean things like a belief in order and a belief in the power of chaos or freedom, a belief in self-reliance and an openness to asking for help, a belief in the power of logic and a faith in intuition, a belief in the power of the will and an acceptance of the powerlessness of the will to overcome that which we do not understand, a belief in nature and a belief in what must be created, a belief in community values and a belief in rebelliousness, a faith in courage and a commitment to caution, a belief in altruism and a belief in self-interest, a belief in God and a belief that there is no God, a belief in humility and a willingness to act out of ego, a belief in kindness and a willingness to do what seems harsh, a belief in respect and a willingness to say and do what others may see as disrespectful, a belief in loyalty and a belief in practicality, a belief in sanity and a recognition that sanity is not happiness, a belief in the lessons of experience and an openness to new ideas, a belief in peace and a willingness to resist evil, a belief in hard work and an understanding that work is not the purpose of life, a belief in intelligence and an understanding that intelligence is not virtue, a belief in honesty and a belief in good manners.
I have listed twenty-some "scales" there, twenty medicines and poisons, and let us say that there are 100 more like that that I have not listed, and there are two virtuous ends to each scale.
My Own Poisons, and Yours
A world in which there are 150 or 200 scales of philosophy, with virtues on each end of each spectrum, is beyond the capacity of the human mind to manage faithfully. Overpowered by the options of practical philosophy, each person chooses certain cornerstones to their philosophy, which I would say were usually three to five for each of us.
There is a comic scene you have seen several times in media, in which a person is asked to name their faults, and the person says that his biggest problem is that he is a workaholic, or that she is too much of a people person, or that she is too enthusiastic, or whatever. I would suggest that these are honest answers, unartfully stated—that our faults are merely our virtues, carried to the ends of the spectrum, as medicine taken too far becomes poison. If we assume that there are 200 lines of philosophy and that each of us chooses four cornerstones to our personal philosophy, then there would be 1.55 billion philosophical variations, but reality is more complicated than that, I think. I would think that on each of the 200 philosophical scales there might be (about) 10 discernable stopping points; that is, that a person might believe 70% in honesty and 30% in good manners, whereas another person who had the same four cornerstones might believe 60% in honesty and 40% in good manners. Thus, the varieties of personal philosophies that we select is effectively infinite.
I was trying to suggest for you what my own failings were, but, like the job applicant who is just too enthusiastic and too much of a people person, I cannot really claim my failings without claiming the virtues which are on the opposite ends of the spectrum. Whatever one believes in too much, too strongly, is the poison that will ultimately undermine one’s comprehension. To mix metaphors so that a building becomes alive, a cornerstone is the Achilles heel of each philosophy. But I would say this, that my poisons have been along these scales: a belief in the power of logic as opposed to a respect for what is intuitively obvious, an undue amount of caution versus bold and courageous decisions, a belief is humility vs. a respect for the power of the ego, and the use of good manners as opposed to a recognition of the importance of speaking the truth.
Politics and Practical Philosophy
A few weeks ago Donald Trump shocked the political establishment when he mocked John McCain’s claims to be a war hero, and called a McCain a loser. The immediate reaction of commentators across the map was that this was an intolerable breach of manners, and that the backlash would sink his political ship. At the time, this was what I thought, too—but we were all wrong. In fact, there seemed to be no negative consequences at all for Trump.
In retrospect, I think I understand that. John McCain for many years now has been trumpeting his claims to military heroism. That is putting too fine a point on it; John McCain is a self-important ass. He was standing on his soap box to tell others in his party what they could say and what they could not say. Donald Trump simply walked up to him and kicked the soap box out from under him. Good for him for doing that (although he may yet pay a price for it, who knows.)
It is manners against honesty. It is entirely appropriate to respect war heroes—unless and until those heroes take advantage of that respect to regulate the political debate. When they do that, they’re asking for a smack down. Disrespect becomes appropriate when respect becomes a commandment.
A few weeks ago I was trying to explain the generation gap of the 1960s to those who are too young to understand it. You remember, in the first segment here, that I was talking about Order, and Hair. The generation before us believed in order, and in haircuts that reflected good order. Men got crewcuts and buzz cuts; women piled up long hair in complicated designs. In rebellion we just let our hair flow—men and women—as a way of saying that on the spectrum of order vs. freedom, we were choosing more freedom.
Is hair political? Sure it is. Look at Mitt Romney’s hair. Mitt Romney’s hair was a symbol of his absolute commitment to good order—and people were uncomfortable with that. There was too much order there. I’m not saying that Mitt Romney lost the election because of his hair, but he lost the election because of concerns about him that were related to that.
Bernie Sanders a year ago had wild and carefree hair that spun off of his head like sagebrush. When he started running for President, though, he cut his hair so that he looks like your Grandpa. He’s got mainstream hair.
One could say in general that in seeking a mate, or in choosing our friends, or in seeking people that we want to work with, that we tend to choose those who have philosophical cornerstones which are like our own, except to the extent that we recognize our failings. When we recognize our failings then we tend, as much as we can, to choose those who complement our failings and offset them, rather than those who are like ourselves.
In politics, however, this is less true; in politics people tend to claim all virtues as if to claim each virtue did not also tug on the rope to claim a failing. In the list of philosophical tenets that I gave in the second segment, in almost every case one end of the spectrum is claimed by one political party, and the other end by the other. Republicans believe in self-reliance; Democrats believe in the interdependence of success. Republicans believe in the creed of Invictus; I am the captain of my ship, I am the master of my soul. Democrats were instructed by their college professors that this is nonsense. Democrats believe in altruism; Republicans in self-interest. Republicans believe in the lessons of experience; Democrats believe in being open to new ideas. Democrats believe in the direct pursuit of peace; Republicans believe in the need to resist evil.
Whenever I state this more or less directly, I am confronted with the offended yelps of those who want to claim every virtue on both ends of the spectrum. How dare you say that only Republicans believe in the need to resist evil, they will squeal. . .why, I am a Democrat and I believe in the need to resist evil as much as any Goddamned Republican does. How dare you say that only Democrats believe in altruism, squeaks the offended conservative; don’t you know that studies show that Republicans give 40% more to charity than Democrats do? I am a Republican, but I believe every bit as much in altruism as any damned Democrat does.
Yes, of course you do, Dear. The people who say these things are like the job applicants whose only faults are that they are too enthusiastic and they try too hard to please others. What I think. . .well, first of all, what I think is that those of you who want to claim every virtue on both ends of every scale are full of shit. But this is what I think about politics: that about 35% of Americans are Democrats, about 30% are Republicans, and about 35% recognize on some level that what is needed is balance. Those in the latter category will ultimately vote for whoever offers us no medicine so strong that it may be toxic.