Experience and invention. — However far a man may go in self-knowledge, nothing however can be more incomplete than his image of the totality of drives which constitute his being. He can scarcely name even the cruder ones: their number and strength, their ebb and flood, their play and counterplay among one another, and above all the laws of their nutriment remain wholly unknown to him. This nutriment is therefore a work of chance: our daily experiences throw some prey in the way of now this, now that drive, and the drive seizes it eagerly; but the coming and going of these events as a whole stands in no rational relationship to the nutritional requirements of the totality of the drives: so that the outcome will always be twofold — the starvation and stunting of some and the overfeeding of others. Every moment of our lives sees some of the polyp-arms of our being grow and others of them wither, all according to the nutriment which the moment does or does not bear with it. Our experiences are, as already said, all in this sense means of nourishment, but the nourishment is scattered indiscriminately without distinguishing between the hungry and those already possessing a superfluity. And as a consequence of this chance nourishment of the parts, the whole, fully grown polyp will be something just as accidental as its growth has been. To express it more clearly: suppose a drive finds itself at the point at which it desires gratification — or exercise of its strength, or discharge of its strength, or the saturation of an emptiness — these are all metaphors –: it then regards every event of the day with a view to seeing how it can employ it for the attainment of its goal; whether a man is moving, or resting or angry or reading or speaking or fighting or rejoicing, the drive will in its thirst as it were taste every condition into which the man may enter, and as a rule will discover nothing for itself there and will have to wait and go on thirsting: in a little while it will grow faint, and after a couple of days or months of non-gratification it will wither away like a plant without rain. Perhaps this cruelty perpetrated by chance would be more vividly evident if all the drives were as much in earnest as is hunger, which is not content with dream food; but most of the drives, especially the so-called moral ones, do precisely this — if my supposition is allowed that the meaning and value of our dreams is precisely to compensate to some extent for the chance absence of ‘nourishment’ during the day. Why was the dream of yesterday full of tenderness and tears, that of the day before yesterday humorous and exuberant, an earlier dream adventurous and involved in a continuous gloomy searching? Why do I in this dream enjoy indescribable beauties of music, why do I in another soar and fly with the joy of an eagle up to distant mountain peaks? These inventions, which give scope and discharge to our drives to tenderness or humorousness or adventurousness or to our desire for music and mountains — and everyone will have his own more striking examples to hand — are interpretations of nervous stimuli we receive while we are asleep, very free, very arbitrary interpretations of the motions of the blood and intestines, of the pressure of the arm and the bedclothes, of the sounds made by church bells, weathercocks, night-revellers and other things of the kind. That this text, which is in general much the same on one night as on another, is commented on in such varying ways, that the inventive reasoning faculty imagines today a cause for the nervous stimuli so very different from the cause it imagined yesterday, though the stimuli are the same: the explanation of this is that today’s prompter of the reasoning faculty was different from yesterday’s — a different drive wanted to gratify itself, to be active, to exercise itself, to refresh itself, to discharge itself — today this drive was at high flood, yesterday it was a different drive that was in that condition. — Waking life does not have this freedom of interpretation possessed by the life of dreams, it is less inventive and unbridled — but do I have to add that when we are awake our drives likewise do nothing but interpret nervous stimuli and, according to their requirements, posit their ’causes’? that there is no essential difference between waking and dreaming? that when we compare very different stages of culture we even find that freedom of waking interpretation in the one is in no way inferior to the freedom exercised in the other while dreaming? that our moral judgments and evaluations too are only images and fantasies based on a physiological process unknown to us, a kind of acquired language for designating certain nervous stimuli? that all our so-called consciousness is a more or less fantastic commentary on an unknown, perhaps unknowable, but felt text? — Take some trifling experience. Suppose we were in the market place one day and we noticed someone laughing at us as we went by: this event will signify this or that to us according to whether this or that drive happens at that moment to be at its height in us — and it will be a quite different event according to the kind of person we are. One person will absorb it like a drop of rain, another will shake it from him like an insect, another will try to pick a quarrel, another will examine his clothing to see if there is anything about it that might give rise to laughter, another will be led to reflect on the nature of laughter as such, another will be glad to have involuntarily augmented the amount of cheerfulness and sunshine in the world — and in each case a drive has gratified itself, whether it be the drive to annoyance or to combativeness or to reflection or to benevolence. This drive seized the event as its prey: why precisely this one? Because, thirsty and hungry, it was lying in wait. — One day recently at eleven o’clock in the morning a man suddenly collapsed right in front of me as if struck by lightning, and all the women in the vicinity screamed aloud; I myself raised him to his feet and attended to him until he had recovered his speech — during this time not a muscle of my face moved and I felt nothing, neither fear nor sympathy, but I did what needed doing and went coolly on my way. Suppose someone had told me the day before that tomorrow at eleven o’clock in the morning a man would fall down beside me in this fashion — I would have suffered every kind of anticipatory torment, would have spent a sleepless night, and at the decisive moment instead of helping the man would perhaps have done what he did. For in the meantime all possible drives would have had time to imagine the experience and to comment on it. — What then are our experiences? Much more that which we put into them than that which they already contain! Or must we go so far as to say: in themselves they contain nothing? To experience is to invent? — (Nietzsche, Daybreak, 119)

When the Earth looks toward the Sun, its vision moves within the Sun’s bright blue-bounded heaven. Only when the Earth turns its back to the Sun and looks out into space through its own shadow does it gain a broader perspective on the heavens. It is comforting to imagine worlds cradled in daytime among the icy, silver specks.

Goods are necessary to sustain meaningful work.

1) We need the right goods to live right and be able to work well; and 2) we need other people to need the goods we produce, or the work lacks functional tension.

Neither means nor ends are dispensable.

*

Since the industrial revolution we’ve treated means as an undesirable nuisance, which through the help of technology we can minimize. Less work was necessary, and that necessary work became worse work.

The dialogical process of making vanished. The circling process that makes work as absorbing as conversation — where the maker listens to and responds to his own work as he works on it — the feedback loop of craft — was snipped and straightened into the linear monotony of the assembly line.

*

Knowledge workers work on assembly lines, called processes.

The same philosophy that produced and blessed assembly lines, produces and blesses processes. To this philosophy, efficiency is self-evidently good, numbers are more real than what we see, what we see is more real than what we feel, objectivity is truth, subjectivity distorts truth, ends justify means.

(Actually, this isn’t even a philosophy, it’s just “how things are”. Philosophy is what pretends things can be otherwise.)

Living by this reality, we set a specific, defined goal, then after follow a straight line as directly as possible to that goal. After the goal is defined and the line to the goal is planned out, we stop listening or looking: we execute.

If we hear or see something in the course of execution that suggests a change of course, what we hear is evidence of an error committed, and what we see is a mistake.

But through the eyes of craft, these errors and mistakes are twists and turns of a conversation.

Through the eyes of craft, the correction of a flaw, the improvisation in the face of the unexpected, the discovery of a blind-alley — these are the essence of development.

Through the eyes of craft, these meanderings, tackings, abortive explorations and failed hypotheses are the opposite of regrettable. They’re the pleasure of work.

*

Marx was wrong to attribute alienation to not owning the means of production: alienation is loss of craft.

*

Possessions and freedom only increase the odds you will be able to do what you were born to do (aka fulfill your destiny).

If you were given possession of the whole world and the freedom to do anything you wished, except for doing what you were born to do, you would feel empty and dead.

If all your possessions were taken away and were forced to do what you were born to do: you’d be happy.

The latter happens when fate thrusts exactly the right catastrophes on a person.

*

Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,
The holy tree is growing there;
From joy the holy branches start,
And all the trembling flowers they bear.
The changing colours of its fruit
Have dowered the stars with merry light;
The surety of its hidden root
Has planted quiet in the night;
The shaking of its leafy head
Has given the waves their melody,
And made my lips and music wed,
Murmuring a wizard song for thee.
There the Loves a circle go,
The flaming circle of our days,
Gyring, spiring to and fro
In those great ignorant leafy ways;
Remembering all that shaken hair
And how the winged sandals dart,
Thine eyes grow full of tender care:
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.

Gaze no more in the bitter glass
The demons, with their subtle guile,
Lift up before us when they pass,
Or only gaze a little while;
For there a fatal image grows
That the stormy night receives,
Roots half hidden under snows,
Broken boughs and blackened leaves.
For all things turn to barrenness
In the dim glass the demons hold,
The glass of outer weariness,
Made when God slept in times of old.
There, through the broken branches, go
The ravens of unresting thought;
Flying, crying, to and fro,
Cruel claw and hungry throat,
Or else they stand and sniff the wind,
And shake their ragged wings; alas!
Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:
Gaze no more in the bitter glass.

– W. B. Yeats

*

Do you know what you want? — Have you never been plagued by the fear that you might be completely incapable of knowing the truth? The fear that your mind may be too dull and even your subtle faculty of seeing still much too coarse? Have you not noticed what kind of will rules behind your seeing? For example, how yesterday you wanted to see more than another, today differently from another, or how from the very first you longed to find what others fancied they had found or the opposite of that! Oh shameful craving! How you sometimes looked for something which affected you strongly, sometimes for what soothed you — because you happened to be tired! Always full of secret predeterminations of how truth would have to be constituted if you would consent to accept it! Or do you believe that today, since you are frozen and dry like a bright morning in winter and have nothing weighing on your heart, your eyes have somehow improved? Are warmth and enthusiasm not needed if a thing of thought is to have justice done to it? — and that precisely is seeing! As though you were able to traffic with things of thought any differently from the way you do with men! In this traffic too there is the same morality, the same honourableness, the same reservations, the same slackness, the same timidity — your whole lovable and hateful ego! When you are physically tired you will bestow on things a pale and tired coloration, when you are feverish you will turn them into monsters! Does your morning not shine upon things differently from your evening? Do you not fear to re-encounter in the cave of every kind of knowledge your own ghost — the ghost which is the veil behind which truth has hidden itself from you? Is it not a horrible comedy in which you so thoughtlessly want to play a role? —

– Nietzsche

Faced with a perplexity, we can accept the perplexity as a such and try to uncover the problem concealed in it. Or we can respond to the perplexity it as a known problem — one we already know how to pose and resolve —  and bury the true problem deeper in words and activity.

*

For every premature answer, there’s a premature question.

*

Perplexities are innovation goldmines.

Most of the time we try to invent ingenious ideas to solve the same old problem.

But when we see problems in new ways, new solutions suggest themselves. It’s just like asking a question from a new angle that effortlessly brings forth a surprising new answer.

(Inspired by this picture. See also Chemical Brother’s “Salmon Dance” video and the “Ambition” poster from despair.com. I may have to make myself another stained glass salmon.)

Words are weird.

I was thinking about how unpleasant incumbent brands tend to be, compared to lean, fresh, inspired challengers. Then I became curious about the etymology of the word “incumbent”.

Incumbent: ORIGIN late Middle English (as a noun): from Anglo-Latin incumbens, incumbent-, from Latin incumbere ‘lie or lean on,’ from in– ‘upon’ + a verb related to cubare ‘lie.’

Incubus: ORIGIN Middle English : late Latin form of Latin incubo ‘nightmare,’ from incubare ‘lie on’.

So far so good. Incumbents, lying around, leaning heavily, incubi, nightmares — that all fits. But then:

Incubate: ORIGIN mid 17th cent.: from Latin incubat– ‘lain on,’ from the verb incubare, from in- ‘upon’ + cubare ‘to lie.

In goal-directed activity, a goal is to be accomplished by whatever means are necessary. The goal is primary and the activity is secondary and variable. And if the goal is met, activity is no longer valuable.

In intrinsically valuable activity, such as play, there may be multiple possible outcomes, and there may be no goal at all. The activity is primary, and the goal is secondary, variable, and possibly even non-existent.

In consummational activity, means and ends are bound together so that the end and means are inseparable. The value of the means consists in its being the pursuit of the consummating end, and the value of the end consists in its being the consummation of the means.

With consummational activities, questions of the primacy of means versus ends, often posed as theoretical — “What if we have to chose one?” — are attempts to reduce the consummational relationship to the terms of means versus ends. The proper answer is “It is both, or neither.” This answer is factually true, and it is also practically and morally true.

Practical truth: once one assigns primacy to means or to ends one begins to think in terms of satisfying one at the expense of the other within the current way of seeing the problem rather than looking for new perspective on the problem where both can be satisfied as a whole.

Moral truth: the consummational relationship is what separates moral action from the merely functional. In morality, ends do not justify means, but just as much means do not justify ends. To pursue an end one considers morally “good” by immoral does not justify the means. It desecrates the end. But also, to act according to moral precepts even when the action clearly leads to disaster — this is usually presented as showing courage, integrity and faith — but in fact, it only shows intellectual and ethical sloth — a preference for exertion of body over recognizing the finitude of the human mind, even in its ability to codify principles or interpret scripture. To believe one possesses godlike knowledge of the moral absolute is arrogant, and to apply that knowledge as if it were a technique is a cowardly avoidance of dread in the face of the infinite.

To achieve moral ends by moral means in the infinite flux of concrete situation requires constant, dreadful, excruciating effort to deepen our understanding of ourselves and our world. It is this tension that straightens the potentially closed circularity of human-animal existence into a forward-thrusting outspiral toward human-divinity.

I think destiny may just be a way to express the state of being in which a person discovers optimal harmony of all his multifarious drives and talents in goal-oriented action.

Ordinary fate offers a little bit to this aspect of the self, a little to that, while suppressing or crippling other aspects. Destiny is a moment within fate where the entirety of self recognizes in an image of accomplishment its fullest, unified potential.

*

The goal is taken as destiny, but this goal is not to be reached by whatever means are most expedient. The goal provides the focusing image of the pursuit. The pursuit itself is the root of the value, but the pursuit is consummated by the goal, and the two are inseparable.

This is another example of the consummation relationship, and it is entirely different from goal-directed activity (“the ends justify the means”) and intrinsically pleasurable activity (“the journey is the destination”).

*

A boy who falls in love with a girl is called to give her a glimpse of his characteristic reaction to destiny.

Principle — ORIGIN late Middle English : from Old French, from Latin principium ‘source,’ principia (plural) ‘foundations,’ from princeps, princip– ‘first, chief.’

A principle comes first, or it is not a principle.

A principle might be an articulation of what is already coming first, a naming of an instinctive motive. Or it can be imposed and made to precede action, in the form of a law. (These two should be kept distinct. If one behaved instinctively, one should remember it and not pretend one was following a code.) The best principles are between instinctive motive and law — the cultivation of an instinct or a constellation of instincts into a disciplined force.

Too often however, principles are added last as justifications for unjustified behavior. It is usually easy to find some principle or another to self-interpret actions as moral. The unprincipled nature of such actions and interpretations come out only in examining and comparing how one applies principles in judging one’s own and other’s actions. Is the application of the principle consistent from moment to moment and person to person? Is the memory constant, or does the story change?

We keep working to provide more and more, cheaper and cheaper, better and better products to consumers.

Nobody in our era has more attention lavished upon him than the consumer.

Why? Because satisfying customers is what brings us success, and success brings us great rewards — bigger homes, cooler cars, higher-fi home theaters — all eventually culminating in a comfortable retirement.

We work hard and make sacrifices to improve the lives of consumers so we can have better lives as consumers.

So, we, ourselves, are split between roles of slave and master: as producers we sacrifice everything; as consumers we bask in autocratic pleasure  — we expect everything, and we are always right.

But does this way of living make sense? Is it possible that we are sacrificing the better half of life?

To repeat a cliche: does consumption bring any lasting happiness at all? What if the cornerstone of lasting happiness is not having, but doing? Are we selling our only hope of fullness (of doing) for empty promises of happiness in having?

Or worse, do we actually think these sacrifices to who-knows-what make us “good people”?

*

This is not a merely theoretical question: If we see consumption as the point of production, we will naturally live a very different work ethic than someone who sees production as the point of production.

And even among those who see production as intrinsically valuable, the attitude one takes toward the consumer’s role in production will also determine one’s work ethic.

It is here — in the attitude toward the other — that people get tangled up in their thinking. Things seem to come down to terms of selfishness vs selflessness. It seems that ethically one’s self is mainly something to either indulge or overcome. The give-and-take of coming to agreements is finding the selfish-selfless balance so nobody takes more than their share of the goodness. We compromise by averaging our interests. Or we claim the higher good for our self by sacrificing our own lower interests in order to be altruistic. But what is gained, really?

I find this way of looking at things depressing. I think the example of really great gifts shows an alternative.

*

When we give an inspired gift — the kind that brings enormous pleasure to giver and receiver — the gift-giver and the gift-receiver participate together in a gift-exchange relationship. Both parties must participate in the right spirit or the gift is spoiled.

The giver must care about the receiver and act, not selflessly, but otherfully and togetherfully. The giver is attuned to the receiver’s being (in the form of the kinds of things the receiver loves in the world) but also to the relationship that binds the giver and receiver together. When the gift is loved for its especial, specific perfection — perfect in a way that shows that the giver really knows and acknowledges the receiver — the relationship is consummated in the gift.

As always, the cliche is true: It is the thought that counts. But the thought in question is not the mere intention to please (though that is very important). The best gift shows that the giver values and has thought about the receiver, about the relationship they share, about what can express that relationship in concrete form, consummate it, make it more concrete, more social, more visible to the world.

*

Let’s compare the otherful-togetherful gift with the selfish gift and the selfless gift.

A selfish gift is one that gives the receiver a sense that they as an individual did not really factor much into the gift. The selfish giver might give something he himself wants and indulged his own desire to buy it, using the occasion of the gift as an excuse. Or he might buy something he thinks the other should want to have, disregarding the question of whether the receiver actually does want it. Or he might buy the gift as a form of self-expression, showing his wealth or great taste or ingenuity, etc., but not thinking at all about the intrinsic value of the gift to the receiver.

The common quality is that the giver does not consider the experience of the receiver, only his own experience. The giver does not share the receiver’s pleasure (though he might take pleasure in his own success). The receiver is not fully present to the giver in the act of giving.

A selfless gift is one that is intended to give the receiver pleasure, but in a distant, non-involved way. The receiver is viewed as an individual independent of relationship, and so the gift does not affirm the relationship between the giver and receiver. The gift is simply the transfer of desired property from one party to another. The selfless giver will sometimes ask what the other wants and give him exactly what he wants. Or the selfless giver will buy his way out of the obligation to give a gift by simply transferring money to the receiver. Or the selfless giver will give the appropriate gift for the occasion.

The common quality is that the giver does not consider his own experience giving , only that of the receiver. As with the selfish gift, the giver does not share the receiver’s pleasure, but in this case, it is because he does not take pleasure in the giving. The giver is not fully present to the himself in the act of giving.

With the selfish gift, the gift could have been given to anyone.

With the selfless gift, the gift could have been given by anyone.

An otherful-togetherful gift could only have been given by this gift-giver to this gift-receiver.

*

Few gifts are purely selfish or selfless or otherful-togetherful, but the point here is not to create classifications. It is to point to an ideal.

The ideal of otherful-togetherful is completely outside the discourse of individualism vs collectivism, of selfishness vs altruism, and of company-centricity vs customer-centricity (or user-centricity).

The otherful-togetherful gift transcends both self-centricity and altruism and points to a paradigm of relationship-centricity.

This paradigm is the form of successful friendships, marriages, businesses, and communities. It is lack of awareness of this paradigm that has allowed so many precious cultural assets to decay into burdensome, pleasureless irrelevance.

*

When businesses learn to stop thinking their choice is either 1) selfishly foisting products they think are great on customers they barely know, or 2) selflessly losing themselves in conforming to the customer’s wishes (which takes the form of coercing employees to sacrifice their own health and happiness in the quest to satisfy the customer), and learn instead to be relationship-centric it will be far more possible for people to create, give and receive happiness in producing and consuming.

*

There’s also a selfish and selfless mode of receiving gifts, and that is also relevant to how business is done.

*

I’m beginning to see brand as the symbolic tokens of a gift-giving relationship.

We need to stop acting as if we make a decision to get married. Fact is, marriage is a collaborative change in being of two people. That change is subjective, but it is a subjective fact. There is no luxury of arbitrary invention in marriage. A marriage is discovered to have begun, and once begun it can be cultivated, or left alone, or starved, or killed.

The same is true for anything spiritual in nature, including the creation of art, the education of a child and the establishment of a brand. These entities, and the processes by which they become, are subjective facts — true or false to some real degree.

There are plenty of formal arrangements of people erroneously called “marriages”, formal arrangements of aesthetic elements erroneously called “art”, facts and skills acquired and correctly recited and performed erroneously called “education”, and formal arrangements of symbols erroneously called “brands” — and to the objective eye, they are indistinguishable. The protest “but what are the formal, measurable criteria by which we can judge the authenticity?” begs the question. Subjective truths exist, despite the fact that they cannot be judged by formal, measurable criteria.

*

So, faced with the painful “squishiness” of subjective truth, how do we satisfy the demands of objectivity? We institutionalize these things, act as though they are essentially institutional and lose the question of their subjective existence altogether. The institutional certification is the truth.

When this happens the subjective truths are lost. The solidity and outer appearance is gained at the loss of the inside essence. The outside “fact” gains honor and attention while its inner content suffocates in the dark and decays away.

Whether these objectively certified truths persist or perish, they do not live or function or bring any real good into the world. Nobody can really care about them, at least not intrinsically. But caring is yet another subjective fact.

*

A women who loses herself to her husband doesn’t have a husband and is not a wife. A man who ruins himself satisfying his wife’s demands doesn’t have a wife and is not a husband. There is no actual marriage to end or annul. What was called “marriage” was in fact only an institutionally certified arrangement of two separate individuals. It may be possible for the couple to recognize the error and become married. Or it might be necessary to declare the mistake irredeemable.

*

How is a subjective fact measured? It can’t be observed directly and it cannot be measured. It can only be detected indirectly through how it manifests in behavior.

*

We’ve got to get serious about understanding subjective truth, or our culture will lose its subjective core and stop experiencing it as intrinsically valuable. Our culture itself will become a big empty certified institution, even if it outwardly looks the same.

The inner difference will manifest in behavior: we will stop working to preserve it for future generations.

Thoughts are clothed intuitions.

*

An intuition seems more miraculous than a thought for the same reason that a 1-day-old baby seems more miraculous than an 80-year-old man. But in both cases there have been significantly more of the former than the latter.

Another way to talk about the triad is to express it as kinds of problems — or dimensions of a problematic situation:

• A moral problem involves values: Why does this situation matter?
• A practical problem involves behavior: What actions are possible in this situation and what are the consequences?
• A theoretical involves cognition: What is this situation on the whole and in part? What is essential to this situation, what are its constituent elements, how do the elements relate to one another and to the whole of the situation?

These problem dimensions are deeply interrelated. A change in any one of dimension changes the others.

The moral modifies the practical: If something has no moral significance, we lack all motivation to respond to it, or even to examine it. We only think about and act upon situations with some direct or indirect moral significance. When something has moral significance we are intrinsically compelled to respond to it.

The moral modifies the theoretical: Whatever it is that makes a situation matter to us is also what makes us regard some facts and features of the situation intensely significant and others negligible. (Consider “media bias.”)

The practical modifies the moral: Our practical responses to a situation change the situation, and reveal new aspects of it. Just as importantly, our practical response to a situation can also change us, or it can reveal new aspects of ourselves to ourselves. Whether the change is actual or perceptual, and whether concerns us or the situation as a whole, doesn’t matter: the moral situation is now a different one. A situation might escalate or resolve, or we may gain new insights into the situation. We might become worn down to the point of unconsciousness, or become hyper-alert. We might become so caught up in a situation that “we are no longer ourselves” or we might orient ourselves to the situation and figure out how to be more authentically ourselves in it. Or we might have new insights into our own moral responsibility which change how we relate to the situation. In all these cases the moral situation has essentially changed. (Think about what happens to soldiers over the course of a war.)

The practical modifies the theoretical: Besides the obvious fact that practical action is the primary way we learn (we make discoveries), our practical aims determine what we see and how we see. We concentrate on different things in our environment, and different characteristics of things stand out, depending on what we are trying to accomplish. We see through a functional lens. (When we are baking a cake, the fact that a bag of flour can serve as a doorstop doesn’t occur to us, but when we need to hold a door open, it becomes obvious.)

The theoretical modifies the moral: What we know and do not know about a situation can drastically change its moral meaning. (This is why we feel manipulated if someone omits facts when trying to persuade us of something.)

The theoretical modifies the practical: The relevant facts of a situation determine how we respond to it. (Missing facts are one major source of mistakes.)

*

My belief:

Our culture has gotten extremely good at generating theoretical and practical knowledge, and at coming to agreements on theoretical and practical matters — where moral agreement already exists.

However, when moral agreement does not exist and the moral disagreement manifests as theoretical and practical disagreement — this is precisely how moral disagreement shows itself — we try to treat the disagreements as theoretical or practical, because that is where we have our best success.

This is our age’s characteristic way of fucking up.

We are happy to theoretically acknowledge differing perspectives — in terms of “I have my taste and interests, you have yours.”

We are also more or less comfortable with treating morality as either a matter of belief (as essentially theoretical) or of obedience to laws (as essentially practical) — but we are deeply resistant to understanding morality as something greater and irreducible to theoretical or practical truth. (Think about getting into Heaven. You have to have believed the right facts and disbelieved falsehoods. You have to have done the right actions and refrained from the wrong ones to get in.)

Few of us, however, have actually moved our intellectual bodies from one part of reality’s room to another and seen what actually happens to what we see.

We have not inhabited multiple moral perspectives.

This is a whole different order of practical knowledge from the simple acquisition of new skills and new experiences we call “being experienced.”

Consequently, we are unaware of how different moral perspectives modify theoretical and practical reality. We lack the theoretical apparatus to conceptualize or discuss morally-rooted theoretical disagreements, and we have no constructive practical response to morally-rooted practical disagreements. We see what we see — and we assume we are seeing reality as it is, while the other is looking through subjective goggles and seeing things in a distorted, self-interested, and possibly depraved way.

And we congratulate ourselves that we know nothing but what our blameless, sinless, moral way of life has shown us. And when others have been blameworthy, sinful and immoral — whether they’re a criminal, lawyer, liberal, fascist, hypocrite, scribe or pharisee — it is to our credit that we lack firsthand knowledge of what it was like to be that way. We can read the law, recognize what is evil, and throw rocks to our heart’s content.

*

Very few people have practiced the spiritual nomadism advised by Nietzsche and seen for themselves that rigid adherence to moralistic law preserves the delusion that we possess morality, and is often upheld precisely for the sake of preserving that delusion.

Fact is, we are horrified at the possibility that the world we look at through our own moral perspective — our own knowledge of good and evil — does not give us an unconditioned God’s-eye-view of reality.

We remain completely unreceptive to the importance of disagreements in showing us our own limitations and orienting us to what is greater than ourselves, and the source of all moral significance — value — or to use a thoroughly-abused word: love.

This is the kind of insight philosophy gives us, but we hate philosophy because it is this kind of insight we do not want. Philosophy shows us how invisible our ignorance is, and it makes us permanently humble and prepared to discover that we are wrong where it never occurred to us wrongness or rightness could even exist.

To think dialectically means to move beyond the conceptual dichotomy of true versus false, and to think more in terms of degrees of truth. An assertion can be outright false, but an assertion can also be true in some sense, but insufficiently true.

To adopt this way of thinking is not to reject the dichotomy of true versus false, but rather to recognize it as insufficient, since the most consequential and controversial disagreements are rarely done justice when approached in those terms.

*

An individual is not obligated to question every one of his beliefs. Very few beliefs can withstand serious scrutiny, and this includes useful beliefs that allow us to live good, productive lives. However, if a belief becomes problematic — we know it when it happens — then we are not free to ignore the belief or to answer it however we please. We have to question the belief until we have a satisfactory answer.

Finding a satisfactory answer often entails finding a more satisfactory question than the one originally answered with the old belief.

*

Is it possible that the point of answers is questions? That answers are what give us access to our questions? That the intelligibility of the world comprises the questions we know how to ask?

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Respecting another person means not only finding validity in the positive content of his beliefs, but in the negative content of his questions, doubts, criticisms.

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A group is not obligated to question every one of its beliefs. Very few beliefs can withstand serious scrutiny, and this includes useful beliefs that allow a group to exist as a cultural entity. However, if a belief becomes problematic — we know it when it happens, because controversy breaks out — then we are not free to ignore the conflict or to answer it however one group or another pleases. We have to question the belief until we have a satisfactory answer.

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Irresolvable conflicts — individual and social — require dialectic.

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“True, but not true enough” is far more common, more disturbing and more difficult to resolve than “false.” True and false are objective, factual matters. “True enough” and “true, but not true enough” are a perspectival matter, and they cannot be resolved by purely objective means.