A Problem Of Lighting

In trying to properly document my beliefs concerning human morality, existentialism and justice I’ve had to write mostly about things that people don’t really enjoy experiencing – let alone reading. Things like suffering, loneliness, abandonment and mourning; important experiences to me but a little heavy on the negative.

I got in a bit of a tiff with my father the other night. I asked him what hearing the news of my spine disorder made him feel; I just want to get inside his head to understand why he chooses to dismiss the problems I bring to him, rather than comfort me and help me figure things out. He responded by telling me that I’m too negative; these events and problems in my life stress him out too much. And that got me thinking: am I too negative.

If the only picture of my life you had was this blog then you would probably think I’m a fairly negative person. Today I went to apply for a provincial benefit so that I could get a new bed. This past Saturday, on a whim, my younger brother and I decided to check out some beds in Sleep Country Canada. One of the sales-reps asked me if she could help with anything. Pushy sales-reps usually really get under my skin, but she was nice and pretty and most importantly not pushy at all. She helped me look at a few beds, and when I described the nature of my back problems she seemed to be genuinely concerned. All in all, it was a good experience. When she asked how long I was planning on keeping this new bed for (whether it’s a five ten or fifteen year investment makes a huge difference when it comes to price), I let her know that I had just purchased a bed from this store not three years ago; the bed I bought then was now broken – the sides collapsed, huge indentations from my body and uncomfortable springs poking through the mattress. Long story short, she spent a solid twenty minutes making phone calls to various distributors, and I ended up getting a full refund for my current mattress; a ticket to go towards the purchase of a new mattress.

So today I went down to start the application process; in two weeks I should have about 850$. To put that into perspective, my current bed costs somewhere around 600 dollars. That means I’ll have $1450 dollars to put towards a new bed. Awesome news, but not exactly the point of this story. The place I went is called the ‘Housing Stability Center’. People from all across Hamilton, Ontario come here when they’re down on their luck. The people you’ll find applying at any given time paint a scary picture of a future most of us fear having. And that got me thinking.

When I first applied seven months ago or so, the other people applying scared the absolute shit out of me. They made my fears real. They were homeless, disabled, forgotten and abandoned. They lived hard, hard lives. And even though I had a moral philosophy at that time built from the idea that the weakest and most at-risk are the most valuable and need the most help, I couldn’t bring myself to even look at them for too long. I’m not quite homeless yet. I’m still young, fairly attractive, and I still have my wits about me; I haven’t suffered for too long. But perhaps to someone like my father, or my brother, or even my old friends, I bring out their fears and make them real.

How do you shine a light on a problem without the illumination becoming uncomfortable?

I realized something as I was walking my dog tonight. I’d be having a fairly good day; I was thinking positively. But I heard something and for whatever reason that triggered this anxiety-response. And that too got me thinking. Chronic anxiety is so difficult to just ‘will away’ because it’s very compelling. Anxiety is like an alarm. Your body senses a problem and an alarm goes off in your head alerting you of that problem. That’s essentially what happens when you’re anxious. When you have problems, like I do, which persist, it’s hard to shut that alarm off. Right when you think you’ve accepted your fate, that alarm will start ringing and you find yourself again piercingly aware of what’s wrong with you.

Maybe I can be a trigger for others without even knowing it. The solution to that is obvious: don’t be a trigger. If you don’t paint a more positive picture, no one is going to help you. The problem with that solution is that it’s not very just to ask the person suffering to suffer more quietly because their pain makes others uncomfortable. But maybe that’s what I have to do. So I’d like to briefly acknowledge some things that I’m incredibly grateful for.

I’m grateful to be born to the family I was born to. I’m happy with the person I’ve become, and although there are many, many things that make my life very difficult (unsupportive parents and siblings, disease, pain, disability etc…), I know that things could have been so much worse. I’m grateful to be Canadian, and to have live in a Country that meets my basic needs for me. I’m grateful to have the opportunity to live, and to grow, and to help others.

I’ve always been grateful for these things, but I’ve never shown that I’ve always been grateful for anything. Even though it seems slightly unjust that I have to work even harder for attention, help and normalcy, It’s the only way I’ll ever accomplish the things I wish to accomplish.

Band of Brothers

Last year when my mom kicked me out I frantically convinced my older brother to move in with me. In October of 2013 we leased an apartment near Ancaster, Ontario. For the first few months, things were great. We got along, I finally had someone to talk to. I was, before moving in with him, very excited at the whole idea of it. For so long I had been miserable and alone and I thought perhaps this was an opportunity to make some headway in that respect. Well, as so often happens, my hopes were misplaced.

This past week my brother informed me that he is taking a job at Lafarge, and will be moving to Windsor in two weeks. At first I didn’t know how to feel about it. I was indifferent and hurt all at once. I didn’t realize then how much it would affect me, and exactly how it would affect me. I’m so used to being abandoned and alone that I sometimes forget how normal certain reactions are to, well, loss and abandonment. I feel betrayed, lost, alone. I feel hopeless and I really feel like killing myself.

The title of this post is brothers, not just brother, so I think it might be appropriate now to talk about two of my other brothers. The brother directly below me (lets call him Will) is little better than my older brother (the one I had been living with). But, much in the same way that I placed inordinate amounts of hope in Gord, I also place inordinate amounts of foolish hope on my brother Will. The thing is, I’m starting to really realize that they’re never going to change. I thought for so long that if I just made myself a little more attractive, a little more inspiring and a little more optimistic then perhaps they’d change the way they treat me. But no amount of positivity in my personality will change their personalities; I know that now.

The incredibly frustrating thing about Will is the disconnect between how he likes to present himself to the world (and ultimately how he views himself) with how he actually is, and how he treats those whom he has a personal relationship with. The only time he talks with me is when I initiate a conversation; when I go out of my way, and make myself vulnerable – knowing full well that I’m just going to be rejected. I want to again address the suspicion that likely follows this admission that no one in my family wants me. I get how easy it must be to conclude that the problem does not lie with them, but it in fact lies with me. That would be true, if I was the one doing the rejecting. If they had consistently tried to reach out to me, tried to help me (hang out with me, ask me how I’m doing, generally empathize with me) and I dismissed their efforts then I would absolutely agree that the problem lies with me. But that’s just not the case. Like I said above, I’m constantly trying to think of ways to make myself appear more attractive to them; like a safe bet, almost. I have tried every approach to get their attention and their love.

You see, these brothers of mine, they lack so many of the basic and necessary qualities that a brother or a son or a family member should have. They have an incredibly difficult time personally reflecting on their experiences and incorporating their in-built conclusions (I don’t like this pain; I don’t like being alone; I don’t like being rejected; I don’t like feeling abandoned) into how they treat other people and generally view the world. They just all become the things they hate. They’re aloof, dismissive, unempathetic, immoral assholes. It’s a harsh thing to say about one’s own brothers, but things have gone past the line of pleasant exchange.

I never get a phone call, or a message, or a text. I’m never asked, by anyone, ever, how I’m doing, what I”m going through, or what it’s like being sick. No one tries to gather any information about me and my life. No one tries to get a handle on how I’m doing, or what I need. And absolutely no one tries to help me. No one goes out of their way for me. And only rarely agree to help if I beg and plead.

Will presents himself to the world as this great moral man. This stolid figure of virtue. His girlfriend fancies him a god among men, and his friends all think he’s this amazing young man. But how can that be true if he treats his own brothers this way? I’ve got to think it’s healthy and normal to have a deep dialogue with your family members. It is all so confusing and so terribly unfortunate.

When I see someone or something in pain, I instinctively try to help. I feel overwhelmingly bad (compassionate, empathetic) when I see someone or something in pain. I want to help. I want to help because I want them to be okay. I want to help because it makes me feel very good to help; it fulfills some basic need to do good in me. I want to help because I want them to succeed and I want them to perhaps reciprocate (not solely to me, but to other people; friends, strangers, future children). And ultimately, I want to help because it’s right. I do not have this apprehension that they have, or this cold indifference.

Then there’s my youngest brother, James. James is only 13. I am fairly certain that he inherited the faulty EDS causing gene that I share. He has depression. He has a hard life. When I look at him, all of those hardships and all of that pain, and all of the problems and the solutions are immediately available to me. I schedule skype calls every night. I help him develop study skills and social skills. I help guide and teach him how to think for himself; I try to cultivate confidence and independence in him (with little things like getting him to go off and collect certain items when we’re at the grocery store, or taking the bus and having him pay for himself; little stuff that seems trivial to everyone but someone who has lacked any form of instruction or guidance). When my brothers look at him, they see none of those things; and they do nothing. I can’t even remember how many times I’ve begged my brothers to step up to the plate and help him; Will in particular. I have asked him so many times. Each time he trivilizes it with ‘oh of course; absolutely. Yeah man, no worries’. But never does anything. And I don’t know why. I’m sure in his mind he doesn’t feel like it’s his responsiblity, or that he just doesn’t see that there is any resonsibility. I odn’t know. All I konw is that if he were in the same spot (which he was once upon a time), he would feel just as horribly, and his needs would be abundantly clear to him. He’s been through very similar things that James is going through. He’s felt the same things, he’s been frustrated at the things he lacks and he’s felt the sting of injustice that comes when you’re not getting things you need and deserve (things every human being needs and deseves).

Perhaps they’ve abandoned and neglected me because they think people like me are our own worst enemies. Or maybe they think we’re not worth it (although, I give them more credit than this). Of the many, many things they do not understand, it’s why morality is practically important. I’ve written about this idea many times. But basically the idea is that moral action is not just ideal, it’s always practically beneficial. It might not appear to be so immediately, but upon further reflection it’s always going to have a practical value. There are those who view morality as relative, and who think moral actions are only true if they’re sacrificial. The problem is that no moral action is truly sacrificial. There’s always an aspect of enlightened self interest. There are some who shy away from that. But they shouldn’t. It’s good that morality makes you feel good; that a moral action benefits everyone. If you’re a person who abandons a brother suffering so acutely, and doom him to loneliness and isolation, ignoring both his cries for help, and his subtle, constantly evolving attempts to foster a proper relationship, then you can’t ever fulfill you’re moral responsibility. Some people shy away from the idea of moral responsibility; and I can see why. Unless you really understand moral philosophy, ethics and metaethics all you have to go on are roughly drawn sketches of what certain terms refer to. When it comes to moral responsibility the thing most immediately think of is religious sanctity; something cold, something distant, and something terribly uninviting. People want freedom; to do what they want and when they want, within a loose structure. It’s not until a person is personally affected by their own actions that they begin to question themselves. But again, that’s also no guarantee that they’ll change (take my brothers). I’m getting a little tangential (I could talk about this stuff all day). What I’m trying to drive at is this idea that those who suffer the most are the most valuable. We can’t expect to have all of the experiences necessary to defend against the suffering life will surely throw at us. We can’t expect to have the moral maturity to treat others as the deserve to be treated, and help those who desperately need help. Thus, we can’t expect to just somehow, by osmosis, fulfill our moral responsibility. We need information to do that. So where do the disadvantaged souls like myself come into play? Well, we have a value in our ability to inform morally, to provide moral context and personal experience with injustice and suffering. We are wells of information and insight. We deserve to be treated well because proportionately it’s ethically required. We suffer more than most, and so proportionately we deserve more than what you might give to some rich suburban mother. But it’s not just about what we ‘deserve’; because you can quickly get lost in that entitlement and lose sight of the real goal. It’s what we need. We need help. So, let’s break that down quickly. Why is that important? (important enough to persuade people to give more to those whom are difficult and sad and who make us feel things we’d rather not feel). Well, we need help because it’s moral. We also need help because if we’re left alone we won’t be able to fully actualize our capacities. We are wells of insight and information. We are tremendously valuable in that respect. However, our value is often lost and unseen from our suffering. We also need and deserve love and attention and empathy and to see moral action because you all need those same things. Like my example above about my brother who can’t be moral if he treats me and others the way that he does, we can’t actualize our moral capacities if we just let those suffering the most fade and rot. Why is that important? To reach our moral potential. Well, it’s important for the exact same reasons why it’s important to not leave the disadvantaged. Because if we don’t reach our moral potential, we won’t be able to fully fulfill our moral responsibility, and as a consequence others will be stunted in their moral development (not to mention they will suffer and feel pain and existential decay). sacrifice always has a component of enlightened selfishness. And this is no exception. You can’t help yourself unless you help others (that’s trite). What I mean is more complicated. Morality has practical benefits. Morality safeguards against the harsh realities of life. Morality also helps to shade us from others who are in varying stages of their moral development. It’s very discouraging to suffer by someone else when you’re trying to be good. They’re in a different stage of development than you, and there are a lot of people. The effect these discrepancies have are readily available to us; it’s why I’m left behind, and why people like me are. It’s why Will and Gord are the way they are. Morality fuels the most human part of our pshyches when all else fails. When we’re alone and suffering and broken, moral actions and thoughts are the only thing which can quell the pain. If you know that you’ve helped a tremendous amount of people, and if you know that the world is a good place, filled with god people who are moral and kind and who help everyone. If you know that safety isn’t just a product of luck, and is actively enforced by everyone. Then any pain or suffering will be made tremendously tolerable. I have personal experience in this method of integrating moral thought. The only thing that has kept me going is the promise of these truths.

Suffering is hard, but suffering needlessly is infinitely harder. Needless suffering is suffering that either has no purpose or meaning, or suffering that occurs in a world (or life) without purpose or meaning. That purpose and meaning cannot be a vocation, or an income, or even personal, romantic love. Because those things are products of chance. NO one wants to admit that the products of their work (their success) is largely determined by luck (being born a certain gender, in a certain time, in a certain country, with health, wits, love, and without tremendous hardship; and all relative gradations). But it’s true. That means that vocation and income and personal romantic love are unstable and easily ablated. Even if you suffer long and die well before you see those things disappear, the fear that they might will still always remain the center of your focus. But ethics and justice and ‘morality’ if proper don’t fade.

Another reason why people like myself deserve better is a reflection of the human experience. No one likes to suffer. People suffer when they get a bad grade, and worry when they buy something too expensive. And they don’t like these feelings; they actively try to treat them. But yet they turn a blind eye to the loss of life, the loss of mobility, of health, of love, of basic rights – if not actively contribute to it.

We are all going to die. Because we spend our lives trying to deny this one important truth, we give so much value to concepts like ‘strength’. A strong person is a wealthy, confident person. This diametric opposition then forces those suffering much lower; and creates the absolute worst type of suffering: the pointless meaningless world without any hope of justice. So that they can’t even feel peace knowing that others won’t have to experience the same thing that they did. They not only die in tremendous pain, suffering, never living a good life (a decent one all humans basically deserve), but they die knowing that there is no justice, and that this will continue to happen to other people. Strength isn’t going through things and simply ‘surviving’. Maybe that’s strength in the context of a battle, but not life. Because in a battle the goal is to win; that’s the diametric opposition: win/lose. So strength is permissibly appropriate. But in life we know we’re going to die. So how could that term offer us anything ultimately valuable? It can’t.

In life, strength is suffering, and going through horrible things, and yet remaining a good person. If you’re immoral, and selfish, and mean, and cruel, you won’t ‘survive’. Socially, if you’re that way around others, you won’t ‘survive’. You’ll just suffer more for it. History has taught us this time and time again (which is a tragic irony, seeing history repeat itself… ad infinitum). A cruel selfish, mean, immoral and unjust leader may experience bliss temporarily, but his or her philosophy is incredibly myopic. Morality helps you personally; it makes you feel good to do good. It fosters growth and is absolutely necessary for moral development (which in turn makes you feel good, and preserves those good feelings, as well as makes you strong in the social context. And defends against those horrible fates where you’re forced to suffer tremendous loss, by allowing you the peace knowing the world is just; suffering in a meaningful way, in a meaningful, important world (and life). Take the governor from the walking dead. I’m sure there were many years where he appeared very strong. But ultimately he failed. His group fomented insurrection, his enemies saw his corrupt nature and banded together against him. If you’re moral and kind and just and inspire safety and virtue and goodness in others, you will be stronger because people will gravitate towards you. They will feel good, they will feel safe, their fear of pain and death will be dramatically less, you’ll ensure that your goals are maintained long after you’re gone.

I could continue fleshing this out and analyzing these ideas for days, but I’m afraid no one would end u reading that; plus it’s quite early in the morning and I have not yet slept.

Morality benefits everyone. Leaving people such as myself to suffer alone, is a horrible injustice, immoral action and sin (I’m not religious). Everyone looses out on the moral insight collected through years of suffering, everyone loses a part of themselves. Development is broad and emotions and empathy and compassion are as important as sureheadedness and prudence. If you let someone suffer, not only are you contributing and creating a scenario where that suffering and injustice is maintained, making others vulnerable, but you make yourself vulnerable too; you could find yourself one day ‘unlucky’ and in the mess you helped to maintain and create. If you let the truly disadvantaged suffer you deny yourself the most truly powerful meaning of life. Not to mention making the world a messy place for your children and grand children – not to mention the rest of humanity.

I don’t understand why my brothers don’t get this. I don’t understand why I’m the only one. But mostly, I don’t understand why they won’t even listen. Everyone is at a different stage in their moral development, but the only way to bridge that gap is to open yourself to opinions other than your own; to communication with everyone and anyone. Morality connects people; it brings everyone together. It creates a safe world for everyone; a happy one.

I think people take a laissez fair attitude to suffering because they think the problem is too big for anyone to handle. They think it’s unjust that they should have to carry that suffering, pointlessly. I hope the irony there is not lost on you all. The thing is though, the truth is the exact opposite. If everyone did a little, the weight would be displaced to such a degree that only the benefits would be consciously experienced. Within a very short time it would become self-sustaining.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep going like this alone. I’m currently just a day or two away from certain suicide. This is why we matter.

A Moral Sketch of Psychopaths

In psychopathy intention plays an integral role in the observers evaluation of the moral weight of the psychopaths actions.

So a psychopath slices and dices a person up. Is the psychopath wrong. Well, consequentialism would tell us yes, duty would tell us yes, and so would utilitarianism.

But, his motives may have been largely determined. Such that, an incapacity for moral autonomy decreases the ethical weight of motive in the context of an ethical crime.

This understanding of a psychopaths moral autonomy only serves the purpose of developing the idea of choice. That choice depends upon many different things. For psychopaths, the choice is comparatively very narrow.

Living things have certain biological needs. Humans have a biological need to eat. That need is reflected in us evolutionarily as a desire (explain complexity of that need-desire relationship). Yet we only call eating in certain contexts a ‘choice’.

A choice is presented when there are two or more options, reflected in one or more alternatives. In respect to people eating, there aren’t generally any choices (irrespective of feeding tubes, liquid diets, supplements etc…). The alternative to not-eating increasingly grows in complexity, leading up to fatality. If you choose not to eat once, the consequence is hunger. So the options are ‘don’t eat’ or ‘eat-later’, or ‘be hungry’ (without any plans to eat later). The third choice, is almost never a choice – because eating is a need, the third option represents an implicit understanding or admission that food si readily available, and so the choice to eat has still been made (eating later). If you repeatedly ‘chose’ not to eat, over time, you will suffer and eventually die. So in that sense, eating isn’t a choice, it’s a need.

Needs are reflected in people internally as a very compelling requirement – as a non-option (you have to do it). If you were to apply the same logic used above for ‘choice’ to ‘needs’, for the individual the options would be: a) fulfill need-requirement, or b) die. Needs represent vital biological requirements an individual must meet to survive. They are quantifiable in the life of an organism. If the needs aren’t met, there are consistent, and obvious biological implications. (There are social needs as well, but we don’t have to get into them for this explanation.). Needs are the function nature uses to awake awareness within an organism or individual.

It’s possible that for some people, certain things are biologically encoded as needs which do not represent a vital biological requirement, but are gross exaggerations of other needs taken to extremes. For instance, we can all agree that organisms have needs that positively increase with the organisms complexity, the communities complexity and the complexity of it’s environment. So things like ‘competition’ which isn’t a vital biological requirement to keep an organism alive in isolation, become vital needs in the context of a community. In certain environments (most, actually) competition is required for survival. Other needs will then act on that need depending on the environmental cues. If food is at stake, the need for competition increases. If a mate is at stake, the need for competition increases. Those needs then will evolve into requiring other needs. So aggression becomes a need in certain circumstances. (These needs can be represented giving increasing and decreasing primacy (primary, secondary etc…)

 

In psychopaths, it’s been consistently demonstrated that certain things distinguish them from any average representative in a given population of humans. They tend to be male, have a reduction in non-verbal communication, empathy, cortical dysfunctions (prefrontal cortex and amygdala), higher-than-normal levels of testosterone (there are other correlates as well) as well as certain personality traits (narcissism, a-social, detachment etc…). What all of these things share in common is that they express a decrease in the individual for a capacity of what we would call ‘free-choice’. To the Psychopath, killing, hurting, is a need. It comes at a cost – ‘choosing’ is as compelling as eating.

In the psycopath, choice is subjectively, as well as objectively, expressed far differently than in the general population. This effect has a noticeable effect on psychological functioning, on survival, on mental health and well-being, on happiness, and on morality. It’s grossly dysfunctional, but in the context of morality, whether or not the psychopath can be judged as similarly as a ‘normal’ average person (a morally autonomous individual) is still up for debate. This is particularly confusing giving the extreme weight of the moral violations which are so common to psychopaths. The crimes represent moral polarities, and so the need for conviction in our moral outrage is high. But I think this added complexity needs to be matched with added complexity – if we’re to establish some equilibrium. Or else we risk losing sight of our moral philosophy and the principles that cement it to our reality.

For a psychopath, the intention to do harm is not present like it would be in someone like myself. I understand the consequences of a wrong action, and so if I am motivate just to hurt someone, than I am intending to be immoral. For psychopaths, it’s much different.

How Can an Atheist Know Morality (This is a rough first edition – an active work in progress).

Much like probably everyone else last night I was watching the big Bill Nye debate. I found it very compelling, and very entertaining. I have gone to Christian schools my whole life, so I’m quite familiar with the creation worldview and quite familiar with the frustration Bill was probably feeling many times during what oddly seemed like a short few hours.

I applaud Mr. Nye for keeping his cool the whole time. He remained incredibly respectful, incredibly generous, courteous, and empathetic the entire time – even with Ken Ham frustratingly admitting (indirectly) that his beliefs are tautological (that is, that he can never be proven wrong, and that everything can be evidence that he’s right). What perplexes me is this fear that without religion you lose morality – that you lose a moral authority. Ironically, it was the Atheist  who was the most kind, compassionate, courteous and respectful – never poking jabs at his opponent, just respectfully at his theory (carefully choosing words like ‘remarkable’ rather than many other adjectives)

I have had a very complicated life. The evidence of that is all over this blog; I have a rare genetic disease, I spend almost all of my time alone (having been forgotten by most people, and abandoned by others). I am in constant pain, and my own survival is always at stake. My worth as a human is questioned on a daily basis. It frightens and worries me that a huge portion of society (almost half, according to many polls) believes that there comes a point where a human loses all value, and it is permissible to leave them to suffer alone – if not to directly terminate their existence. So I agree with Mr. Ham and his colleagues that his world does need morality. I just also agree with Mr. Nye that the Christian narrative just doesn’t seem to be true – at all. And thus that Religion cant be the source of our Moral Authority (even if that means quite uncomfortably temporarily losing sight of objective moral Universalism).

As you can imagine, my life as been spent preoccupied with this question of morality. I have spent the better part of two years studying moral philosophy and thinking about these moral problems. This idea that you cannot have morality without a God is just not true – it is based on a very incomplete understanding of moral philosophy. But where does that leave us?

Well… my worldview is based on the idea that you and I are so equal that we are as individuals fundamentally indistinguishable. It is from that understanding (that intuition we all have at one point, that ‘I could have been you and you could have been me’) of equality that we can reconcile our drive for selfishness and self-preservation with a complex (and ever growing) moral philosophy. We are always going to give primacy to our own self interest, but when you breakdown what that means philosophically, and what it means to exist, and how we differ in existence, you’ll see (I hope) that our best interest is always everyone’s best interest (and in that way, our best interest is always taken care of). There are many problems I’m going to work through below, but for those of you who don’t want to read a four and a half thousand word essay, that’s the long and short of it (It’s like a moral game-theory).

Regarding morality and ethics the prime unit of measurement has to be the individual. That’s a claim I’ve been mentally upholding for a long time – and all of the experiences I’ve had in-between have further confirmed that proposition.

What do I mean by ‘individual’? That’s an important question and an even more important distinction. Most people have some intuitions concerning what certain things are right and certain things are wrong. The standard way we generally evaluate the ethical weight of some action (or inaction) is by the effects it has on an individual or a group of individuals. For example, we know that punching a person in the face is wrong if the individual is innocent, and undeserving of vigilante justice. But the fundamental problem with viewing the individual as something other than oneself is that when you apply more complicated problems to the theory you find massive inconsistencies. For example, treating your children better than a stranger. Another example is the problem of disability and dependence.

Concerning the latter most people generally agree that if a person is absolutely dependant than they should not be left to suffer. And while that may seem logically appealing, for me the statement is lost in the nuance. What happens if your child happens to be disabled. Are you acting specifically with their best interest in mind, as an ‘individual’, or are you concerned more with your best interest as an individual? What if you have a hospital of disabled persons, wouldn’t it make more sense for the larger population if this small group were ‘put out of their misery’ (the greater good). What about problems like laziness and self-induced obesity (not caused directly by a medical condition)? Do those fall in the same category as well?

I’m not suggesting that those in charge of domestic and foreign policy will fall down that slippery slope, because many of those problems are superficial and easily remedied with many conventional ethical theories and commonsense morality. But the public, the ‘mass’, make judgements about people very day, and that public has a greater impact on the moral consciousness of a society than the few educated individuals who have spent the better part of their lives struggling to find answers to some of lifes most complicated questions.

If you come across a sign posted beside a rail system (GO transit, for example) which says ‘do not cross the tracks’, do you follow it always. You know that crossing the tracks is dangerous, not only mortally for yourself, but mentally for the engineer, and for the bystanders, and for the lawyers and the owners of the land and the station. A morally autonomous person would likely conclude that the reasons for following the ‘law’ are greater than the reasons for not following it. The reasons you wouldn’t follow being there are no visible trains in sight, you’re the only person on the platform, you’re not likely to cause anyone harm or yourself any harm. This is a difficult problem most of us are faced with on a daily basis, and a difficult decision we are also all faced with probably at one time or another (J-walking, for example).

So other than the harm you’d cause why shouldn’t you cross the tracks where a sign telling you not to do so is posted and clearly visible? Most people, in my experience, don’t really have an adequate answer to this problem. They might say that crossing isn’t really a big deal then, if no one is watching (like the ‘if you’re in the middle of the Country, do you run a red?).

There are situational requirements for violating a ‘law’ and there are direct consequences for violating a law. But these laws don’t say ‘if the go is clear, cross; otherwise, don’t). The laws appear Universal.

One of the reasons for that is that the person making the rule can’t successfully predict every possible situation in which the rule would have to apply. So the rule has to be general enough to accomplish its goal (the safety of people etc…) and be clear and easily followable. So perhaps it appears Universal because that’s the only safe way to generally ensure everyone’s safety.

Another reason is that if it weren’t Universal, who would get to interpret and choose who is allowed to break the law and who is not. IN road law, police officers have some say in determining how sever a ticket should be (in regards to speeding). Regarding a platform and a train, things are more dangerous and much more complex. For instance, say there is no train in sight on your track, but that you accidentally took the wrong set of stairs, and your train is coming on another track. The space between the two platforms is separated only by your visibly empty track, which is no more than seven feet wide. It would only take a few seconds to cross, should you cross? Well there is no immediate danger to crossing the track for you, or for the conductor or the people in the train-station-environment. What if there were two of you? What if you were a father with his two kids, or with his wife and a small child? What if you were a larger group of ten? Do those greater numbers change the complexity of the situation enough so that what would once appear to be an innocuous jump seems like it’s the wrong decision? It appears, for most, that they do.

Part of the reason these rules need to be Universal is because they must set a precedent for large groups. If one person crosses, then that means others can cross. Eventually it’s possible that crossing the tracks seems incredibly innocuous and it becomes commonplace. What if you’re feeling extra bold, and there is a rain in sight and yet you still cross. What if you twist your ankle? What if you have a heart attack? What if you drop a wallet, your keys, and your phone. You can’t predict every possible situation before you make an action so it’s generally safer to just take the time to walk around and follow the rules.

What does any of this have to do with individuals in the context of morality? Imagine you are a soldier preparing for battle. You’re young, your brothers in arms are young, you’re inexperienced and afraid. You’re forced into a life-threatening situation. IN order for you to succeed, as an individual, it seems plausible that the best chance you have is to run, or to hide and shy away from the fighting. Surely not fighting will ensure you’re chances of survival with a high degree of predictable success. But your cowardice depends open others sacrificing their lives for you, or on others courage. You’re an individual, and you don’t want to die. What if you’re a leader of a group of soldiers in the same battle. You know what’s at stake (lets say the enemy is particularly vile and must be defeated). How do you win when your soldiers are so afraid. Is there a high degree of predictability?

There’s this great scene in this old war movie where this group of soldiers is resting against an embankment waiting to attack and ambush the enemy. Every soldier has accepted the ‘life is better than death’ approach to warfare, and they all think it’s a waste of energy to try to be heroic. They are pressured by social norm not to run away (most of them), but they are none to happy about the risk. One soldier is incredibly heroic. He talks about how important it is to fight until the last breath. One of his friends looks at him and says ‘what is one man against an army’? It’s true; what can one man possibly do to an army of man-collective? It’s possible he’s some incredibly dynamic super soldier, and he may be capable of winning the battle. But in a greater sense, his critics seem to be right; eventually he will die, his life won’t mean anything. In the context of the battle, he is a hero among regular mortals.

I used to struggle with this question all of the time. IN the film, that hero doesn’t really end up doing a whole lot (I think he actually dies). I was waiting the whole time for him to transform into some herculean hero. I wanted him, as an individual, to do something great.

It was until recently that I’ve understood what the answer may be.

Instead of viewing that hero-soldier as one rare individual, why not view him as representative of the idea of a soldier; and in that way, of every soldier. Such that, if every soldier was heroic, than the burden of heroism would depreciate into almost non-existence. Sure, that heroism comes at an increased risk, but only marginally. Because unlike choosing to be a hero because you’re an individual who happens to be unique, or choosing to hide from conflict because you value your particular life, or choosing to kill off or leave behind a disabled person or someone of burden (convicts), the choice to see your own uniqueness in the light of this idea of person-hood permeates into every area of your life, and adds predictive success to every ethical decision and problem.

If you consider everyone else as different from you only on the basis of the idea of person-hood then most of these problems are solvable.

Our moral theories, among other things, solve for an uncertainty. We have a problem, we have intuitions about a viable solution, and we act in an uncertain environment. When the parameters of change increase and decrease in relation to the change in environment, for the public, our ethical theories come up short; there is always a degree of risk, and there is always a degree of chance, and most people haven’t worked through the problems enough to develop a cohesive moral philosophy.

If you choose to torture someone to save many, would you do it? Most would say yes. But why is the majority important? Simply because more lives are important? Well that’s not really a case of right and wrong, that’s a case of what will help us survive. To go back to the hero-soldier, each person is unique according just to themselves, then is the majority really any better? Does an individuals value reside in chance and luck (to be born in X time with X skills according to X genes)? Do we torture that person for children to come? (As perhaps happened to get each individual here in the first place?). If you look at the group of people as sharing this thing we call ‘humanity’ and judge their worth according to the idea of a human, rather than luck, than each individual matters as much as the other one – and in that case, the human you’re going to torture is as inherently valuable as the one’s you’re aiming to save. If you don’t see it that way, and you choose to torture him, than no one is safe (it’s logical to assume that your goal is safety, but it’s also logical to assume that if certain conditions were met you could potentially be the person-tortured. And in that way, everyone can be the person tortured and our worth hangs loosely according to chance – along with our morality.

Lets just take a moment to consider the value of a person according to the individual-model.

In this model it’s suggested that a person’s value is unique to them; and as such, everyone’s value is different. The moral weight of an action is individual to each person. This doesn’t determine morality to be totally subjectively relativistic, but rather it lends itself to a certain degree of relativism (it is possible to hold conflicting ethical theories that are still both true in particular contexts – that is, that they both effect some positive (moral) outcome with relative predictive success). But many who accepted this model of morality also belief that a person is capable of carving out their own worth according to their will and their unique control of their actions. It is in the everyday actions that moral relativism seems to reign supreme (you might say something rude to someone, which to an objective universalist would be immoral, and yet you still may be qualified in one circumstance to say that rude thing, or that you may be hurting so much that the intention to harm was never present, such that you’re less autonomous etc…). So a person’s value is dependent upon luck, and also upon their capacity for self-growth and will.

The aim of most moral theories is to establish what is right and wrong. In a less complex system, most moral theories work. But when you add complexity, that complexity requires your moral theories to be increasingly complex (such that the predictive success of your moral theory remains constant). Moral theories have to apply equally and consistently to each individual. If they don’t, then they don’t apply to anyone – they apply to the environment. (Because it’s logical to assume that it’s probable a person could by chance become one of the persons for whom the moral theory doesn’t help). Also, a moral theory can’t produce moral inconsistencies. That is, a moral theory based upon utilitarian ideals can’t be true and yet allow for a circumstance in which it’s permissible morally to harm innocent persons – to the point of severe suffering, disability, or especially death. (It’s important to note that the moral theories we have are always up for augmentation and change; and new problems which require change, force us to change the moral theory. This is another reason why people are so important – because people determine morality; and our morality has to serve all people, or else it serves only a few (or a majority) and is thus immoral (for explanation see: the ‘idea of a person’ above)

Lets take for instance the case of traumatic brain injury. This person isn’t capable of changing themselves in such a way so to give them worth; they aren’t capable of writing some grand play, volunteering and saving lives, or serving anyone by direct consequence of their will. Likewise, chance, the arbiter of value (worth), seems to be working against their favour. Is this person worth less to us? To most people, the answers appear to be an almost even split.

Under this model, lets take an incredibly attractive man, who is healthy and capable of doing great things. He works hard, earns a tremendous income (pays high taxes), starts some great company creating a product everyone needs. The consequences of his life are beneficial and consistent.

Lets say we are posed with the choice of killing the first man to save a group of people (large enough to be persuasive (a nation, perhaps). Imagine that there is no other choice. Do we kill the first person (man with the TBI), or the second person. Many would say we should kill the first person. They would probably reach this conclusion by reasoning the following ways: the first man is broken and suffering; he is largely unaware of his own existence. He is dependent, he is draining our resources, and the consequences of his life are less beneficial. The other man has done great things, he has given the world so much, and he is capable of experiencing and enjoying life – he has earned his life.

What if the second man, the man we choose, reached his position of power immorally. What if he pushed people around, he bullied others who were less fortunate than him (violation of utilitarianism and consequential, as well as deontology), he cheated, lied, underpaid his workers, and repeatedly violated human rights. He wasn’t a man concerned with the welfare of humanity, it just so happened that the welfare of humanity served him well.

Most people would reconsider. So it’s less about the direct consequences of a person’s life (the amoral aspects) than it is the moral disposition of the individual. Yet even then, the moral disposition of the first man is relatively unknown. But we assume that he is moral because he is not a threat (in-fact, he is quite vulnerable), and he has the markings of innocence. Upon first glance it appears this person has to agree with the popular moral disposition to have value, rather than the moral philosophy determine the value of a person, and ethically solve for uncertainty with a relatively high and consistent predictive success.

Lets take another example. What if we have an individual who is in all ways of a morally sound disposition; they are kind, they are loving, they give of themselves. They have proved their worth as a person. But what if we discovered that the circumstances leading up to their birth were tremendously immoral. What if say her grandparents slaughtered hundreds to steal resources to feed his family and ensure their unique survival. Her parents didn’t have to be as aggressive, but were nonetheless equally as savage in their own way. She was raised largely by teachers, tutors, friends and maids. She managed to maintain her moral outlook because she joined some religious order and became a nun.

Is she worth more to us before we learned of her origins, or less? Let’s consider an individual who does the wrong things their whole life, and is largely immoral, and yet due to some circumstances, wills them-self towards the moral life – climaxing in them sacrificing their life for the betterment of others. Is that person worthy?
You might wonder why I’m focusing in so much on the worth of a person. I’m choosing to focus on worth to highlight one of the major problems with the individual-model of morality: that it allows for a situation in which it is morally permissible to choose between sacrificing one person versus another (or sacrificing one person, for a large group of people). The choice for the public (most normal people) usually is based upon that persons worth. Often that worth is how moral they are, and (more)often it’s what they’ve achieved.

The first choice (based upon their morality) is very discursive; whether we agree if they live or die depends upon us agreeing on a moral philosophy – which we don’t. It also depends upon the person being capable of moral autonomy – which often many are not. When it’s a child under consideration, we generally don’t find it moral to kill the child. But even then, you could imagine a scenario in which it would be preferable for a child to die (say, the child versus ever general, or president, or doctor, or scientist; or the child versus destroying all reserves of cancer drugs, or pain medications). When it’s a disabled adult, we are less sympathetic and more inclined to sacrifice them. The problem here is that under this moral model no person is safe. If the aim of morality is to determine what is right and wrong, each person has to be safe, in almost all situations (obviously, it’s impossible for me as one person to think of every possible iteration and problem; which is why it’s good that morality adapts according to need).

A morality based upon an individual-model ultimately serves chance, rather than people. It’s people who determine morality, and it’s for people that we are moral. We are moral because morality ensures safety. Ensuring safety isn’t itself immoral – instead, it’s almost precisely immoral (it’s inherently selfish). Morality ensures safety for the idea of a person, rather than for an individual person – because as I’ve shown, individual persons are often the product of luck, and often the product of immorality. And because there very possible problems (That often happy every day) in which each person’s safety is determined by luck (if they are autonomous, haven’t suffered some accident, were born with the right skills etc…).

When you’re faced with choosing between killing someone and saving hundreds of thousands, or letting them live, and dooming hundreds of thousands, your mind convinces you that the greater number is somehow greater. It may be greater for survival, and it may be greater in that life is precious (a proposition overthrown by the very act of murder). Under that individual-model of morality it’s the idea of a greater number that hardens your sword-hand, but each individual is unsafe, has very little moral guidance, has a worth dependant on chance. They have the harsh reality of ‘life’ painted as protective morality to hide the few who are lucky enough to benefit.

We develop moral theories for safety because life is hard and unforgiving. Our experience as persons is what matters most to us. That experience, that consciousness and that life, is precious. It’s not precious because it’s inherently great or better than any other form of life. And it’s not precious according to each individual. It’s precious because our moral reasoning demands that we view it as precious. Not as an individual thing, but as an abstraction of individual things; as the ‘idea’ of a person.

My understanding of morality is that every single person is equally valuable. Not because of the products of their life, but because we are driven to form moral philosophies and principles by the harsh reality of chance and fate. If we allow chance and ‘fate’ to guide our moral decisions and thoughts then we will never be safe. Not only will we never be safe, but we will cause others to suffer. That’s important because that person could be us; it’s logical, that the person suffering could be you given the right conditions. We are separated from one another by the world our minds tells us exists, not by some gooey, metaphysical substance (i.e. a soul). In that sense, uniqueness and individuality is determined ultimately by chance (we have a say once our lives have begun, and we have consciousness and moral autonomy, but getting there is the product of chance (and often very immoral actions). Our individuality is an expression of that chance; but that’s where it stops and ends: chance. If we desire a respite from the harshness of life, and a complex moral theory that demonstrates consistent predictive success, we are ultimately no different from one another. One persons desire for life has to match in importance every other persons desire for life. In that way, if each persons desire for life and safety is as important as everyone’s, you solve the problems of the individual model of morality (where one persons need is more important (or one group).

Like the rule ‘do not cross the tracks’ we can’t abandon this model which takes the individual as the prime unit of measurement for morality – where the individual is any person (the idea of person-hood in the abstract, rather than a particular iteration(i.e. one person vs another). If we allow one person to cross the tracks, who is to determine who that one person is. Is it one person once. Even if it’s one person once ever four hours, that’s over a thousand persons a year. We trick ourselves into thinking that the bigger number is better (bigger number of persons saved) and that the smaller numbers are insignificant (one individual sacrificed, or one individual crossing (at a variable rate). We can overcome this mental bias by taking an honest, hard look at morality, and what I’ve written here. Humans determine morality. Life is complex, and we should embrace that complexity – but not at the expense of our morality. Because our morality is our safety, and because if morality benefits one, it must benefit everyone.

Its the idea of a person which matters – and which provides a unit of measurement for morality.

(This is a rough first edition – an active work in progress). IN a few days I hope to expand on what I mean and flesh out my examples and counter-examples more thoroughly (including gettier problems). But this is the best I can do right now given my health.

My New Years Resolution

A resolution can mean a decision to do (or in this case, not to do) something, or it can mean the termination of an abnormal condition. A resolution can also mean a verdict, or a judgement. When most people think of their New Years Resolution, they think in terms of the first definition – of correcting some behavior. They may want to eat less, or lose more weight, or spend more time with family. Whatever it is, the intention is always the same: to make life better. Some succeed in making their lives better, some don’t. Ultimately, for most people, these ‘resolutions’ are meaningless.

I desperately want a better life, but a better life doesn’t depend on my weight, or my eating habits, or the amount of time I spend with family. For me, a better life means one of two things; one that’s possible, and the other impossible. A better life would be a healthy life.

I say that for most ‘the resolutions are meaningless’ because most people don’t fully appreciate the concept of time – the factor resolutions depend on. In the past year I’ve ruptured more than a few disks, developed a few digestive disorders, lost my family and my friends, and, a few times, almost lost myself – all because of my health. And that’s the impossible resolution – health. I know that I can’t just become healthy – nor can I turn back the clocks to a time that I was. And yet, being healthy wasn’t at the top of my list of ‘things to change’ to begin with.

Being sick, being really sick, has afforded me a unique view of life – of my own life. Although obviously my health stands in the way of my happiness, something a little taller, with a bigger shadow, is still blocking my way. That thing that I’ve been chasing – that thing that we’re all chasing – is myself. I know it’s pithy and it’s trite, but that’s just on the outside. Every single problem in my life can in some way be improved by a stronger character- by a ‘better me’.

The new year is fast approaching, and while people plan to ‘eat less’ and ‘spend more time studying’, I’m faced with the daunting task of drastically overhauling myself. And I’m confused. I don’t know if this resolution to become a better person (a more dependable, strong, virtuous person) is a termination of an abnormal condition, or a verdict. It’s the fear we all juggle: ‘can we change’.

When we’re doubtful, we like to toss around quotes like “our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.” But let’s be honest (not only are most of us bad interpreters of meaning) our biggest fear isn’t that we’re ‘powerful beyond all measure’, it’s that we’re powerless. I don’t think we fear that we won’t meet an implicit potential, but that we aren’t capable of becoming the people our problems need us to be.

People can change; that’s something I firmly believe. But the problems we try to solve often get in the way of the solution; and the bigger the problem, the more difficult a resolution. And to me, becoming a better person feels a lot like throwing stones in a lake to build a bridge.

The common cold and other things.

I don’t like it when other people get sick – especially other members of my family. Me and my brother have both come down with the cold. He picked it up first, so he is a little more sick than I am. But we’re both sick. It’s hard to watch someone you care about suffer, unable to communicate to them what you’re really feeling.

I happen to be sick all of the time. I have had a chronic illness for the better part of three years. I have lived every day in the fog of malaise; so a few aches and a stuffy-nose is nothing new.

My brother on the other hand isn’t so use to feeling constantly run-down. He’s a young healthy guy in the prime of his life. He has a full-time job (salaried, no less). He has a loyal group of friends. And most importantly, he has options. If he decides he wants to become a marathon runner, he can. If he wants to backpack around the world; no problem. If for some reason he wants to break his arm, he can. And he can sit back for a month while it heals, waiting for everything to go back to normal. So I can imagine feeling trapped is a real shock to his system.

Growing up we didn’t have the most emotionally supportive parents. Our mother is a bit of an apathetic spaz, and my father is an anxious, disabled alcoholic. There wasn’t a day we weren’t hit or yelled at, or a Christmas eve without explosive anger and an abundance of alcohol. After we stopped being cute, and the scars of emotional neglect became visible, our parents pretty much stopped caring about us altogether. They didn’t try to undo the damage they did; not even one apology. There were no age appropriate discussions about sex or plans for the future. We weren’t prepared for life, and unfortunately the suffering we did experience fostered this insanely stupid illusion that we’d already had the worst life has to offer. So when bad things did happen, we refused help because we imagined life’s coping tools were already paid for in-full.

Over the years I’ve come to understand that the hardest part of being sick isn’t necessarily the illness itself (the pain, the fatigue, the depression). It’s the loneliness. Every day I feel like I’m living in the shadows; in some dark corner of the room watching everyone else have a good time. Only there’s nothing I can do to get anyone’s attention.

My brother went all postal today when I asked him for help doing the dishes (I was pretty spent from lugging the laundry between the basement and our ninth floor apartment). He came at me with ‘can you not tap your fingers when I’m over here sick doing YOU a favor).

God I wanted to yell at him so badly. I wanted to tell him that this is how I feel every day. Every day I feel nauseous, cold, faint, achy – and more. Yet no body acknowledges that I’m ill. Nobody asks me how I’m doing. No one helps me with my dishes; for Christ’s sake, no one even knows the name of my disease!

Instead I left the room and flung my ragged, worn out body onto my bed and yelled at him from the privacy of my own mind. I asked him to pretend our roles were reversed. I said Imagine this is how you live every day:  you feel worn out, tired. Like any moment your body is going to rebel and just say ‘I’ve had enough. You’re on your own, pal’. So you retreat into your memories or try to wrestle with the idea of some sort of solution to all of these new problems. But your mind is your own worst enemy and all you want to do is to talk with people. You don’t know why this is happening to you; you just know it’s wrong. And you want so badly for someone else to agree with you. Only nobody does.

I don’t acknowledge that anything’s wrong. Your subtle pleas for attention seem to fall on deaf ears because I make no attempts to understand you. And every day I’ll ask you to do things I should know you just can’t do. Things that I can manage without giving them a seconds thought, but don’t because it’s unfair when you don’t “chip-in”. But because I don’t ask you any questions, I have no idea that you’re in constant pain. You’re aware this is a problem and it frustrates you like crazy.  Every day you’d watch in silence as everyone around you enjoys their life; taunting you with happiness. After a while when you finally freak out I’ll give in and empathize because you’re being too annoying. I’ll tell you things like ‘I know what you’re going through. I love you and you’re just over-reacting. Things will be different’.

But you can tell by the questions I don’t ask, the concern that I don’t show, that my words are a lie. To you happiness is some kind of sick mirage; constantly disappearing and constantly beyond your reach. Imagine living that every day, because that’s what I go through’.

The hardest part of being sick is usually something that you can’t change. It’s something we discover when we think about what happiness means to us. If I had one friend, someone who would take the chance to find out who I really am, life would be good. People need love. Being sick has taught me that in order to grow, you need someone to grow with. My life is a mixture of avoidable loneliness I have no control over, and unavoidable pain I have no control over.

The hardest thing for me and my brother growing up was knowing that nobody really cared about us. I mean, Mom and Dad said that they loved us, but they never acted like they did (like that uncle who ‘says’ he’s a millionaire, only he drives a Ford Focus and is always borrowing money from your parents). And because no one showed us what love was like, we aren’t even able to care for each-other now.

Becoming the things that you hate, that’s the easy part. Trying to redo all of the good things you missed out on is the confusing bit. And unfortunately life can be a total dick, and some people never figure it out.

tolstoy“Why should I live, why wish for anything, or do anything?” It can also be expressed thus: “Is there any meaning in my life that the inevitable death awaiting me does not destroy?”

 My impulse is to say ‘well by asking ‘why should I live’ you are in fact insisting someone provide you an answer, which suggests that the question isn’t why should I live, but rather, how’.

 And that seemed for a long time to be an adequate response, but as I was reading that passage in Tolstoy’s confessions things suddenly became clear to me. You cannot say you really only want to know how to live, because that presupposes some sort of agency. When, was life not really forced on us? Did we have any say in our conception? The question then rightly becomes ‘what’s the point’.  We are forced to live, then forced to die. And inbetween those two harsh sanctions we are charged with finding some meaning.

For some men finding what can be considered happiness and living a happy life is quite enough. For others, life presents a more complex set of problems. Men like Tolstoy struggled with these problems. Problems that can’t be categorized as ‘existential’ or ‘metaphysical’ alone. These are collaborative problems that fundamentally ask the questions we all have, but with a twist. It’s not that their repressed consciousness is trying to find the best way to live life. Tolstoy for example only questioned his ideals when he found himself in the throes of decay. It was only after a lifetime believing in a positive trend of development, when he himself watched his aged body regress, that he saw the relationship of life and death in its most subjective form. We are all part of some greater biomass, some clave to which we owe allegiance. But we are also agents capable of willing ourselves off course. We can think about thinking. On the one hand we have this public ancestry, and on the other this private journey.  And as much as we try to group these aggregates we can’t help feeling dismayed on reflection of the perplexity of the lives we live; the duties we fulfill and the obligations we attach to others. As such it seems quite natural to ask ‘what’s the point’. But that very nature hints at the need for a point, which itself undoes all the great work we’ve done getting ourselves to a point of development in which we could ask that question.

Speculating on the existence of a point isn’t missing the point or somehow defeating it. The begrudging disconcertion a lack of knowledge inspires sets the very course by which successive generations find meaning. And although that’s a type of meaning in itself, its a mental trick of little value to the aching soul of a man convicted by his purposelessness.