It is not like me to have nothing to say. Talk to anyone who knows me; I am notorious for talking at length about almost anything. The fact that it has been nearly three weeks since my last post seems strange, at least to me.
This blog is for me. It is for me to write what is on my mind, when I wish to write. Perhaps I simply do not wish to write? I don’t think that is the issue. Honestly, I think it is a question of priorities. Many of my priorities have changed over the past few months, even the past few years. Those things I considered particularly important have now become much less so. Last year, I graduated secondary school, earning my first degree. This blog was, for me, a way to continue practicing and exercising my logic and reason. A way to continue writing. However, since graduating, I have slowly been sliding back into other areas of interest.
From a very young age, computers have been an integral part of my existence. I started programming at about five years old on a Texas Instruments TI99/4A. I learned to program in BASIC back then, a very slow and clunky language intended to make programming easy for people like me to learn. BASIC is very basic.
Among the reasons I think programming appealed to me was the fact that I could control something. In my life, I have observed that there is very little I have actual control over. My parents were a bit overbearing, and definitely overprotective. I had very few opportunities to express a freedom, assuming such a thing even exists. I am not surprised that I doubt the existence of free will when I consider my upbringing. I find it strange when my parents disagree with me on the topic of freedom; I guess they were on the other side of that equation.
I find myself frequently thinking about oppression and slavery. About situations where people are in some way forced to make certain sorts of decisions and choices. When I think about this long enough, I realize that everyone is a slave to determinism. That is, all the choices I make are influenced (heavily) by all the things that have come before. The insidious chain of cause and effect plays its part on all the choices I make, as much as I try to avoid it. Like an adversity to touch hot stoves, my upbringing led me directly to the point I am today. Not only was this situation I find myself in inevitable, but I really could not have done otherwise.
This is the point of contention I expect most people to dispute. This is the point my own mother argued against vehemently. As she suggested, if fate ruled then I ought to walk into the street in front of a moving bus; her reasoning was that if fate truly ruled, I’d somehow not be hit. Unfortunately, it is my belief that my mother did not truly understand what I was saying. Of course I would get hit by a moving bus were I to jump in front of one. It is just silly to suggest otherwise. After all, cause and effect is just as valid in that situation as any other.
However, I try to understand her point of view in this. I think she was trying to suggest that I don’t have to jump in front of a bus. After all, I understand the consequences of such actions, and therefore I can choose to do otherwise. That is what I think she was trying to suggest. Unfortunately, this simply reaffirms my side of the argument: I would never step in front of a moving bus because I KNOW that I would be hit by it. It is really no different than the hot stove at all, and my knowledge of how cause and effect works has already made my decision before I am aware of it. Like when the Oracle tells Neo that he has already made his choice, he only now must understand why he has made the choice. “Know thy self.”
This is why I am so passionate regarding recognition of the structures of society. This is why I fear patriarchy and consumerism. I KNOW that their influence has a hold on me, and on all those around me. I KNOW that when I feel the urge to control another person, especially a woman, it is patriarchy that has deemed that I do so. I KNOW that when I feel the motivation to make lots of money and buy lots of things, consumerism is behind it. I am smart enough to understand that control over other people is pointless, as is the accumulation of stuff.
It is at this point that I always remember what my professors told me during my education: if you don’t agree with the way something is, you need to be able to provide an alternative if you plan to argue it coherently. I can suggest that patriarchy and consumerism are the worst inventions that have ever been, but unless I can suggest an alternative system to exist under, my point is mute. What would life be without patriarchy or consumerism?
I hurt people, unintentionally, when I work my way down this rabbit hole. When I tell my wife that it is not her appearance that impresses me, but her empathy, she seems both happy and sad at my statements. I think she is happy because I see her, in the way Marilyn Frye suggests women should be seen. She is not a stage hand, she is the star of my show. However, I also think she wishes I looked at her as being the most attractive woman in the world, in the way that she exemplifies the eternal woman of patriarchy. She seems often depressed at her inability to attain the perfect hourglass shape and incomprehensible weight, the statistics fed to her through all the mass media we are exposed to. So when I indirectly suggest her appearance is not important to me, I think she might interpret it to mean that she is unattractive. Like how people, when trying to be polite about an ugly person, they suggest that the person’s personality is what is important. It is a veiled insult. I swear that is not what I intend at all, but we are all part of that same system, and so those sorts of interpretations are common.
What is the alternative? I cannot say. I don’t know. When I consider myself, all these systems and structures stripped away, it seems to me I would be nothing. That is, every aspect of my being is infused with these structures. One way or another, I am a victim of my conditioning. I am a slave. I see no escape from it. Only one thing ever remains in my deep thought: my raw consciousness.
To be clear, it is not the consciousness most people would think about. When René Descartes strips away everything he can doubt in his meditations, he suggests the only thing that remains is his existence: “I think, I am.” There is debate as to whether this actually works, but I will give him this. What comes next as he travels back to the world is where I find myself disputing. Because he follows a path brought about through his conditioning, conditioning brought about through his lived experience. He would not consider such things if he had not first lived and experienced the world, in some fashion. The very idea of God comes from lived experience.
For me, what I mean by raw consciousness is that there is this thing I have, or I am, that I cannot really describe or explain. The other term I often use is my “first person,” a term to denote that it is my perspective on the world. I recognize that this raw consciousness is fed information through the incredibly flawed interfaces that have been provided: my eyes, my ears, etc. I know that even those interfaces could have been hijacked, through something akin to simulation theory. In fact, unlike Descartes, I don’t even agree that my exercising a thought is sufficient to suggest I exist, as a particularly good simulation might be doing the work of thinking for me.
The best I can sort of suggest is that I am like a passive observer, receiving all this information from somewhere. And due to the causal nature of everything, even my choices and decisions could have been (likely are) also hijacked. I feel like the “job” of my formal consciousness (the consciousness that most people think of) is to tell stories. That is, stuff happens and I make choices (which are predetermined by causality), and my conscious mind finds a way to justify and explain what happened and why I chose as I did. My mind tells a story to explain the occurrences in the world, and the occurrences in my mind as well. That I am simply a story telling machine.
The story goes something like this: I am a raw consciousness, a passive observer of experience. I, in some fashion, inhabit this body and this mind, both which provide for me experiences to observe. But this body and this mind both are subject to a deterministic universe, where causal relationships have been playing out for some time. I have no control of this mind nor this body, I am simply a passive observer. It is sort of like watching a very long film.
It is even possible that what I think is my body, and what I think is the world, both do not exist as I think they do at all. It is possible that the experience information I receive is fabricated by some massive system, as in simulation theory. However, if this is true, it matters little. A fabricated reality is still a reality. The rules and laws of one universe don’t need to resemble the rules and laws of another, so long as there is at least some consistency. To be honest, even the question of consistency is irrelevant.
The purpose of my mind is to tell a story. Using the faculties of reason and memory, my mind tells a story about how things have come about and why, when it is able to consider a why. When a why is unavailable, magic often suffices. This is definitely why I can do something without good reasons; it simply means my mind is failing me at telling a good story, or perhaps even a bad one. If the story is unconvincing to me, then I am a hypocrite and a liar. If it is, I am honorable and trustworthy. As a person, I am really only as good as the stories I can tell.
In the end, I am always left with one thing that could possibly be me: this raw consciousness, this first person passive observer. Strip away patriarchy and consumerism, and the countless other systems and structures that exist, and I am nothing more than a remote feeling. A slave with absolutely no control over anything at all.