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Essays on mind and matter I

Posted by moses @ 10:53 • , , , • 0 comments


As you get older, you tend to find yourself looking back more and more.

When you're young, chances are you couldn't wait to grow up because you wanted to do things you couldn't do as a child. But as we get older, I think many of us find that we want to go back, half-wishing that somehow we could reverse time, perhaps dreaming that we could change some things about the past.

Is life doomed to be full of nostalgia and regret?

Well, I think nostalgia can be a kind of recreation, so it's not really a bad thing. Regret, however, is much more difficult to judge. I won't say that we should never have regrets, because some things are worth regretting—without the prospect of regret, we might do things that we would do well to regret later. But is it worthwhile to live a life full of regrets?

As I reflect on it, it becomes more apparent how different and perhaps incommensurate with others' every individual's experiences are. You would think that people with broadly similar circumstances would have broadly similar experiences, but that's not necessarily true at all. While today's mainstream philosophy often regards experience as very much an internal thing—experience is intangibly subjective and thus it is impossible for one person to fully apprehend another's experiences—most people still intuitively think of it as an external thing—there is a real world that we are obviously interacting with and is therefore what determines our experiences.

I think the truth is somewhere in between (or a configuration of both?). How you felt, thought and acted are determined both by your circumstances and how you perceived them. The past is like this or that because you are partly responsible for making it the way it is, not just through your externally-oriented decisions but also through an internally-oriented one—how you chose to see and internalise your circumstances at that time.

Indeed, how you perceive the past is also a choice. However, there is a relatively inflexible element to memory in that it is to a large extent determined by past decisions you made, which are unchangeable. If you saw your days as miserable, you're likely remember them as miserable today whether you want to or not because the decision has been made in the past to perceive and thus remember them that way.

How you feel about the past is perhaps more of a choice. But, by extension, you're still relatively unfree to choose since the memory that you are reacting to is, as I mentioned above, inflexible even in the internal (self-determined) sense. Therefore, I think regret is often an unavoidable feeling.

What can certainly be helped and what really matters is your decisions on the present and, to some extent, on the future. And as I mentioned on New Year's eve, past experiences can help by informing these decisions. So you may regret things in the past, but don't let the mistakes you regret bleed into the present, either by persisting or by negatively affecting your ability to choose how you live your life today.

Thus, the past may be there to be wept over and the future may be there to worry about, but the present is here to be lived and enjoyed.

As we get older, I think we would do well to keep that in mind.

For a eudaimonic society

Posted by moses @ 03:20 • , , , , , • 0 comments




What does it mean to live the good life?

That is Aristotle's question. It's also one that we would do well to think about in this day and age. Does it merely translate to pleasure-seeking, a vulgarised Epicurean way of life, or a crude Utilitarian one based on the consumption of material goods? Looking at how many people view life and its rewards today, those do seem to be very popular views.

Well, I won't be preaching about the good life here. I will merely borrow Aristotle's concept of the eudaimon life—meaning a fulfilling or flourishing life—because I think it's very appealing. Basically, it's a life in which one seeks to realise one's potential as fully as possible.

What I will instead talk about is how the eudaimon life figures in politics. After all, a coherent ethical system has to integrate the private with the public or the individual with the social and political.

I think it's a great weakness of the modern (and here I mean liberal) political system that it doesn't tackle this question. At most, it only goes as far as to praise freedom or autonomy and encourage the means that are necessary to ensure it, such as political participation. Of course, governments often do promote the concepts of a harmonious society, healthy living and etcetera, but these are a matter of policy rather than integral aspects of a coherent philosophy.

The problem comes where, instead of enabling a pluralism of perspectives that the prizing of autonomy warrants, modern political philosophy merely ends up looking away while a dominant ideology monopolises the people's consciousness.

And that ideology can do so because people have material needs, which it has been able to dictate, both through their provision and through the creation of new ones. In other words, with a pervasive market system based on the valuation of most aspects of life through currency, it has been able to dictate people's way of life. It has also been able to create a false consciousness, which I take to mean the creation of endless wants and needs that it and only it can fulfil.

It's no wonder that many view life as a long road of hard (or not so hard) work that promises to reward them with comforts and luxury. And in such a society, money (and I don't mean just hard currency), as the universal medium, becomes paramount. Everyone becomes, often involuntarily, money-minded.

That is quite contrary to the eudaimon life. What the latter seeks is not material wealth, but wealth of character and being. It teaches moderation and encourages the pursuit of excellence. It seeks a balance between the material, social and spiritual.

But only if people are released from the shackles of material domination and false consciousness would they be truly free to pursue such a way of life.

And this is why I think the eudaimon life is related to and forms a moral structure for a socialist society. Far from being an egalitarian hell, socialism seeks to collapse the structures of material domination, to put the fruits of labour in the hands of those who laboured for them so that they may live their lives to the full. It does not stand for authoritarianism and collectivism. It stands for freedom in more aspects life than just the political.

Now, on a final note, does a political philosophy that seeks the fulfilling of one's potential imply support for a meritocratic system? This is something that needs more time to be considered. But if I were to hazard a guess I'd say no, in the sense that if meritocracy gives license for material domination by the meritorious, then it would be contrary to the spirit of a eudaimonic society.

Besides, we need to be careful when we talk about meritocracy. Without a level playing field and true quality of opportunity, true meritocracy is not possible. We need to distinguish between true and idealistic meritocracy and pragmatic meritocracy, the latter which Singapore (for example) subscribes to. Which do we mean?

Pragmatic meritocracy does not make a clear distinction between those who have the odds stacked against them and those who were born lucky. And our sense of fairness, which is apparently corroborated by neuroscientific evidence, should prevent us from buying into it.

Missing the forest, or how experts can be dumb

Posted by moses @ 12:09 • , , , • 0 comments


If there is something wrong with the method of inquiry that analytical philosophy is partly guilty of, it would be the fragmentary way in which reality is examined. Each field or subject tends to be seen independently, frequently leading to big-picture incoherence.

Moreover, there is often (in less straightforwardly philosophical fields) a tendency towards a strictly realist method, focusing almost entirely on the empirical and taking revealed reality as the only plausible element in discussion. This again leads to incoherence, even where the subject is labelled as 'comparative'.

Now, (on a somewhat ironic note) all this might sound rather abstract and hence obscure. Well, I'll cut to the chase and speak from an example. After all, the empirical does have a substantiating role.

I read, with a measure of bemusement mixed with ruefulness, the 'expert' analyses on the recent trend of casino-themed toys becoming popular in Singapore.

In response to public concern, a few psychologists quoted by Today downplayed the significance of this trend. One compared it to the availability of "toy guns which encourage kids to play shooting and killing games", stating that "it is up to parents to decide what they want for their children".

At first glance, that's a pretty good comparison. Certainly, we can agree that casino-related toys becoming popular does not mean more children will grow up to be compulsive or reckless gamblers, as much as legalising homosexuality does not mean more people will become homosexuals.

However, in this case, that argument is only good as long as it stands alone. I suppose this is where psychologists who examine the individual removed from his/her social context should retire to the backbenches.

Had the toys become popular years ago, those experts would be completely right. But what makes this trend worrying is not some unfounded fear about the toys. Rather, it's the fact that it comes in the wake of the opening of the casino and all the hype that surrounds it. Hence, it's not a question of psychological effect alone; it's also a question of cultural trends.

What is worrisome, therefore, is not that the toys could exert some insidious influence on kids, but that the culture celebrating extravagance could. The toys are merely a vivid manifestation of that culture, a sign of how far down it has crept and become positioned to affect the people's psyche.

Businesses thrive on exploiting opportunities, and social trends generate the latter. Parents don't buy casino-themed toys to teach their kids "the concepts of chance and risk playing" and "the consequences of incurring debt", as one psychologist puts it glibly. After all, as the expert noted herself, more conventional games such as Monopoly could serve that purpose. Parents buy casino-themed toys now because they buy into the hype, one that is reminiscent of Wall Street's extravagantly reckless culture. That's not exactly the best thing to aspire towards, is it?

I think this is one of the instances where science, steeped in its own arcane knowledge, becomes negligent. Reason and science are not synonymous. I've written favourably about scientists (including psychologists), but I have to say that putting your faith in just any form of scientific inquiry isn't prudent either.

Here, I say that it is almost a crime to talk only about trees.

Why we are a passive-aggressive society

Posted by moses @ 20:10 • , , • 0 comments


I'm not the only one amongst the people I know to have opined that Singaporeans are easily offended. I'm also not the only one to have been on the receiving end of their knife-in-the-dark kind of wrath. Nor am I the only person to have been frustrated trying to work something out with them, whether it's a project or just a get-together, and failing due to their lack of commitment, only to have them play victim in the aftermath. At the same time, we quite frequently observe farcical outbursts and quarrels amongst strangers in the street.

All this seems to be a curious mixture. Actually, this bubbling cauldron may be a regular feature amongst urban populations living in high-stress environments. But I think there's a special dimension to this amongst Singaporeans, so let me offer a uniquely Singaporean analysis of how I think this condition comes to be.

I think by now you're not a stranger to the fact that Singapore is an authoritarian society. Dissent faces disapproval at best and sometimes even open persecution. Certainly, it's not very difficult to be obfuscatory about this in legal language. But, when it comes down to it, Singaporeans who care to defend the system would defend it on the basis that that's how things are done over there and that it works.

But we're not exactly interested in the politics of the country now. I'm going to talk about how that translates into the people's behaviour.

And not only is dissent not politically tolerated, there is a consciousness that, as a multicultural society, speech needs to be regulated. Besides the prevalence of censorship backed by the legal stick (as three guys found out recently), I think the indoctrination is so successful that people actively censor themselves from openly saying things that might provoke conflict.

Added to the mixture is a twist of Asian reserve, engendering a dislike for confrontation. The result is a people who tend to be 'quietly' unhappy. Resolving problems with open, honest communication is frequently eschewed for fear of unpleasant emotional encounters. After all, the latter are not the kind of stuff responsible members of the community should engage in.

Hence, we tend to bottle our feelings up, letting them out only behind the backs of the people with whom we are unhappy. But that's not enough sometimes. With all the pressure we are under, we might really need to let off steam. So we take it out on strangers, people that we don't have to see every day and don't have a personal relationship with—bus drivers, public servants, salespeople and etcetera. Hence the quarrels in the street.

Moreover, in such a competitive and authoritarian environment, where the stick is ready to hit and people are ever ready to take your place should you slip, we hate to be wrong. Out of concern for our own good, we will try to push the blame or at least minimise our culpability. In fact, we often want to seem to be the victims because, otherwise, the responsibility is too heavy to bear. Or we might be confronted by angry people.

And when people dare suggest that we are wrong, we bring our personal indignation to bear—we quickly feel offended.

All these symptoms seem to be the hallmarks of passive-aggressive behaviour. And I think that's what we are, a bunch of passive-aggressives. We are also irresponsible since we loathe the full implications of responsibility.

I firmly believe that politics shape the way we live. So I do wonder if the latter is surprising in light of the fact that we're not given the responsibility of political choice.

Simply put, the government thinks we are children and we let that pass. And so we are.


Challenger's defense

Posted by moses @ 10:13 • , • 0 comments


Without realising it, it's been more than half a year on. I think it's time for a little introspection. I'm actually surprised I haven't done this before, though I remember at least intending to do so. So let's take a look at where this blog has gone, where it stands and what direction it should take in the future.

Looking back at its short history, there have been a few developments. First, there was a short period of uncertainty as to whether it should continue. But I decided that this blog is not so easily found and associated with me such that unfamiliar people can pick out things that they don't like and acquire an immediate prejudice (face it, that's how people tend to operate) against me in real tangible life. So that's history now.

A more interesting development is an evolutionary one—the fact that entries have on average become longer and denser.

That is actually contrary to my initial intentions. I wanted to write short, snappy things, but influence from my studies got the better of me. And I do often wonder if this is for the better.

But, at the end of the day, many things just can't be said in a few short sentences. And, on the flip side, I'm not going to turn this into a perpetual essay-writing exercise either. Essays, though more rigorous, don't tend to get the point across effectively. I'm sure that's reflected in how most of us feel or felt when we read academic papers.

And this where the apologetics begin: I wish to defend the direction that this blog is taking.

I should say that philosophy isn't my forte—political philosophy is more like it—but I do follow broadly in the continental tradition, as opposed to the analytic one. The differences between them are somewhat confusing, but it's possible to make out some trends. Most clearly, analytic philosophy has a greater predisposition towards propositional logic.

That doesn't mean continental philosophy is illogical, though. But it does mean that analytic philosophy seeks to avoid contradictions while continental philosophy, with its dialectical tendencies, finds an important place for them. Provided that they make sense, of course.


Now this implies that continental philosophers tend to write in a more nuanced way in order to be able to capture and convey the contradictions that are present in reality. It certainly means they are unlikely to argue with the same kind of formalistic structure employed by analytic philosophers.

But, having pronounced where I stand, my sympathies are actually a little divided. Nuance to the point of ambiguity may be appropriate in some cases, but I do value clarity. A paper full of propositional logic is hell to read, but so is one filled with ambiguity.

So, in sum, I think the way that I currently write is, perhaps with a little refinement, in the right direction—a non-formalistic and sometimes nuanced way, adopting points of view that are rationally defensible (hence the need for clarity and mass) without attempting to be formally logical.

It also helps that my intention here is not to write papers. At the same time, however, I wish to retain some cautiousness. Quite a lot criticism can probably still be made from a formalist angle, but it also helps that I'm not exactly trying to be right. My intention has always been to provoke thought rather than necessarily convince anyone. I aim to question more than to provide complete answers.

And I think that suits my character rather well.

Faithless faithful

Posted by moses @ 13:48 • , , • 0 comments



The question of religious faith is something very difficult to untangle in a coherent manner. And I address it despite warnings from within and without. One would hope that this question can be addressed without evoking judgemental reactions, but I don't know if that is possible. I think the best thing I can do is to be as non-judgemental as possible on my own part. And so I write this, as I had written my previous entry, with the caveat that this is what I think without claiming that it is necessarily true. But, at the same time, in support of what I'm writing, I'd like to say that it is derived from years of experience interacting with believers (it's also worth mentioning here that my views might be more relevant to Christianity than any other faith, since the vast majority of my experiences are with it), as well as a fair measure of reasoning. In other words, I'm not doing this like Ronny Tan. And now that I've mentioned it, that's a good place to start.

I'm mildly amused by the reactions to the Ronny Tan incident in Singapore. The issue itself, however, is of little interest to me—I know evangelistic rhetoric well enough not to be surprised. The point is I see no reason why we should pay attention to some ignorant or dissembling provocateur. I mean, in a similar way, who cares about what Westboro Baptist Church says next? If these people are vested with authority in state institutional positions, then we can talk about them being irresponsible, as with the case of Thio Li Ann. Otherwise, if we think that something said from a pulpit we don't sit below is complete nonsense, the best thing to do is to ignore it. That doesn't mean it's not important to address mistaken beliefs propagated by such rubbish. That means we ought to focus on the underlying problem, not on the nonsense itself. Hence, all the righteous anger that has emerged in reaction to what was said only seems childish and misguided. It adds nothing valuable whatsoever.

And the underlying problem is what I'm going to be referring to here: The fact that religious faith seems to have become synonymous with opted ignorance.

Recently, I've come across a notion of God that I find very appealing: God is excellence
—and it isn't just referring to moral excellence. This implies that to be faithful followers we must try as best as possible to approximate God's perfect excellence. This is very interesting, but it also raises problems with religious faith and what it means to be faithful as we have encountered them.

Here is where I've been quite consistently disappointed by the religious community. I've met quite a few perfectly decent and intelligent people who say ridiculous things that are patently false simply because their worldview is coloured by their unquestioned beliefs. Even amongst congregations that profess to be intellectually inclined, I'm seldom ever impressed by the actual intellectual capabilities of their members. They may know their apologetics and hermeneutics very well, but they know very little about things outside their religious framework. And a good part of the reason for this is they don't see external knowledge as anything near as valuable as knowledge acquired within the faith. In other words, they are relatively dismissive of a vast amount of existing knowledge, things that could make the positions they have learned untenable (and many of them don't want to know it precisely because they are afraid of this).

I don't mean to say that believers are necessarily ignorant. Certainly, I'm not young enough to know everything either. However, I'm quite willing to learn from anything. And that is what I mean by intellectual capabilities: The unrestricted willingness to learn and the products of that willingness. Even many of the believers who are actively engaged in the pursuit of knowledge are unable to achieve this. Their pursuit of knowledge is frequently channelled by their religious sympathies, directed towards some things that conform to their beliefs and away from others that do not. And this tendency is even couched in moral terms—basically, hear no evil.

Now, I might be accused of having too much faith, ironically, in the ability of human reason to divine the truth. Of course, human minds are not perfect. But this doesn't mean reason flies out of the window. As a scholar during the Enlightenment might say, God gave us a brain, so we should use it. Indeed, even speaking within the religious framework, when people talk glowingly about the "leap of faith", I'm not sure they know what they're talking about. They are often unaware that the concept is not such a central part of established Christian schools of thought. There is plenty of emphasis on reason and rationality, which, I should add, is why people traditionally asked for signs; they wanted evidence, and the desire for evidence to support your beliefs is manifestly rational.

Similarly, when some believers talk about concepts such as "spiritual war", they are unaware that the notion borders on the heretical. And it's bad enough that believers don't know enough about their own theology, there are some groups that have virtually no theological grounding! Thus, the problem of intellectual inexcellence constitutes a vast malady amongst believers—that of a lack of inquisitiveness. They are content to be told what they like to hear and to be told that they like to hear it. And this is supposedly justified by the concept of faith or "simple faith".

One might say that that's true for any system of beliefs. But you could change your political views, for example, and it might not cost you anything. On the other hand, if you're convinced that the matter concerns your immortal soul, the equation changes.

To be fair, I've known a few believers whom I respect greatly. However, these people seem to be rare exceptions, and that is why I'm not sure whether one can be religious and be open-minded at the same time. It's a fine balance, and even the most excellence-oriented believer is quite likely to trip up. After all, if there are two things that might be true and they contradict each other, you'd simply lean towards whichever one your faith dictates.

So, as Kierkegaard was, I am sceptical towards the idea of congregations or indeed of organised religion. If a community of believers is supposed to help you nurture your faith, it certainly hasn't done mine any favours with what I've seen; so what's the point? Unlike Kierkegaard, however, I'm not willing to make the leap of faith. My willingness to learn seems to overcome that.

The veiled truth

Posted by moses @ 21:28 • , , , , , • 0 comments


What I'm going to talk about this time is certainly a controversial topic. And I think must state clearly that this is my opinion. I don't like saying that because I don't like how opinions are commonly regarded (i.e. as either equally right or equally wrong). But as I cannot claim to have a very informed opinion on this matter, it's better to be humble when there's reason to be, isn't it?

Recently, France has moved towards partially banning the burqa in public places. Of course this has provoked both outrage and approval, often across traditional political lines. I'm not exactly going to take a side on this issue, since my own position straddles both sides of the debate somewhat. I think that this is not a good move, especially with how it has been portrayed by its proponents—I'm not a fan of European views on foreign cultures and integration. However, I don't agree with those who say that this is a clear violation of the freedom of conscience as I disagree that the veil is Islamic.

And I say that because I have a generally positive view of Islam, which can be more progressive than Christianity in issues of social justice (as the Christian conservative majority seeks to prove daily). The notion of an Islamic veil, therefore, sits uncomfortably with me.

Ultimately, the argument boils down to whether hadiths should be seen as binding and what implications this has on one's faith and devotion. In the article, an imam answers the former in the negative, stating there is nothing in the Quran that directs women to cover their faces. And I agree with him. I think that Islam is primarily based on the Quran and that hadiths, as a secondary source on the words and deeds of the Prophet, are a matter of tradition. Thus, I don't think they can be binding, and they should certainly not reflect on the strength of one's faith and devotion.

However, as a more detailed treatment of Islamic doctrine is beyond my ability, I shall offer a logical and ethical argument for this view. There are, I'm sure, many practices based on religious traditions that are uncontroversially disallowed in modern societies. Female genital mutilation is one good example. Of course, not all of them are based on such an old and supposedly weighty set of traditions. But if an ancient and important religious authority did prescribe the practice of female genital mutilation, does that make it more acceptable? (Of course, this question presumes at least some degree of moral realism; I am assuming that we don't think something is right just because people think that it is, or that moral statements merely reflect our emotions)

I also find it disturbing that people are using the notion of freedom to support repressive ideas and practices. Is the veil even really worn for the purposes of modesty today? Cultural norms have changed, and I think the only reason why the veil remains in a lot of places is the patriarchal traditions that some Muslims subscribe to. Besides, if it is about modesty, why do men not wear it as well?

The only good thing that I've heard about it (found here) is that it potentially renders the issue of female looks irrelevant to career prospects in jobs that don't technically require good looks. However, communities that place great importance on it also don't tend to value women's education and work as much as men's. That certainly has implications on the notion that it serves as a gender equaliser.

And as with any other issue, to shout about freedom in arguing for the acceptance of repressive things is inherently contradictory. The logical conclusion of such a view would be akin to the extreme libertarian view, as espoused by Robert Nozick, that someone is free to sell him/herself into slavery. The contradiction in such a line of thinking should be clear, and if we subscribe to the notion of fundamental rights we cannot at the same time think that people can give them up. If that is the case, they wouldn't be 'fundamental'; the argument is thus self-defeating.

Hence, also noting that the ban is after all only partial, I disagree with a lot of the criticisms of this move. But, having said that, I do think that it is misguided in the way it has been conceived and recommended. Even if equality is to be merely paid lip-service, the legislation shouldn't have been expressly aimed at Muslims. Otherwise, it sends a message that xenophobia plays a part in the decision. And if you like to think in slippery slopes, you can imagine what sort of precedent this might set on the issue of integration.