"The 'World' (world-for-us) not only implies a human-centric mode of being, but it also points to the fuzzy domain of the non-human, or that which is not-for-us... Thus the World implicitly opens onto the Earth. But even 'the Earth' is simply a designation that we've given something that has revealed itself or made itself available to the gathering of samples, the generating of data, the production of models, and disputes over policy. By necessity there are other characteristics that are not accounted for, that are not measured, and that remain hidden and occulted... The remainder, perhaps, is the 'Planet'."
-Eugene Thacker
How hard it is to find new philosophy books! Or, maybe I should rephrase this, as: books that set about doing 'new philosophy'. I'm sure that there are no shortage of them, but having one's ear to the ground and actually discovering them is another matter. When I'm lucky, I've been able to find one or two every few months - recent books that have something new, and more importantly, interesting to say. In The Dust of This Planet by Eugene Thacker is one such book. It is not without its flaws, and though it largely avoids making too many conclusions, the depth of exploration alone is enough to make it an interesting read. It's also fairly short, so it doesn't require much of a commitment.
I discovered this book through Radiolab, which did a story on the peculiarity of how 'a book about nihilism' has entered the peripheries of popular culture, despite being heavy reading for general audiences (although it doesn't have quite as much to do with nihilism as they imply, and when compared with most books on philosophy, it isn't exactly as 'heavy' as they imply either). The aforementioned question I will leave for Radiolab; what was more interesting to me was the revelation of its influence on the creator of True Detective, Nic Pizzolatto. Not only do I find True Detective to be hugely entertaining, but I would argue that it is also one of the most philosophical works of television ever to air.
In the book, Thacker discusses what is beyond the boundaries of human understanding, beyond what we can put into language, beyond our intellectual and emotional comprehension, beyond everything human-centric or that can even be related in human terms. He argues that the nature of this 'world-without-us' precludes being able to talk about it, at all, in an intelligible way, so we have turned to the genre of 'horror' to engage with it - thus, the subtitle 'The Horror of Philosophy'. As such, his examination is not of these actual 'beyonds', but of the art we have made in order to comprehend the beyond at all. For example, he tries to discover the underlying philosophical positions behind black metal, one of the most nihilistic and 'dark' or 'horrific' genres of music, among the book's many other projects.
I'd like to, for this first essay of the three parts, examine Thacker's book as a whole, both to critique it, and then draw a few conclusions of my own from it.
Next time, in part two, we'll examine True Detective, the show inspired by the book, and also the very thing (horror) which In the Dust of This Planet argues is the vehicle by which humanity discusses that which is beyond the bounds of our comprehension. We'll take a look at what philosophical questions the show poses, and how it answers them.
I hope to examine, in both works, the common themes of 'nihilism' - a lack of belief in any 'meaning' in the world, which would preclude any purpose or direction - in consideration of the fact that most humans do hold a belief in meaning and purpose, and that this is generally considered 'preferable', and how to reconcile this.
Finally, in the third part, we will examine black metal, and another underlying philosophical/theological position to that genre that I think is illuminating, and it's one that Thacker did not discuss. This particular belief system is interesting because, in a way, it seeks to synthesize nihilism and belief.
Through a critique of the book in this first 'rumination', we will be mostly 'laying groundwork'. We will establish what is meant by the apparent dichotomy of nihilism and belief, the conflict between them, how they relate, and pose the central questions concerning their relation. And hopefully, not just 'pose' them, but sharpen them, give them focus and polish and prepare the way for the possibility of coming to a few answers. And here, as ever, I fully expect any answers to lead to more questions.
1.
"The total amount of suffering per year in the natural world is beyond all decent contemplation. During the minute that it takes me to compose this sentence, thousands of animals are being eaten alive, many others are running for their lives, whimpering with fear, others are slowly being devoured from within by rasping parasites, thousands of all kinds are dying of starvation, thirst, and disease. It must be so. If there ever is a time of plenty, this very fact will automatically lead to an increase in the population until the natural state of starvation and misery is restored. In a universe of electrons and selfish genes, blind physical forces and genetic replication, some people are going to get hurt, other people are going to get lucky, and you won't find any rhyme or reason in it, nor any justice. The universe that we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil, no good, nothing but pitiless indifference."
-Eugene Thacker
How hard it is to find new philosophy books! Or, maybe I should rephrase this, as: books that set about doing 'new philosophy'. I'm sure that there are no shortage of them, but having one's ear to the ground and actually discovering them is another matter. When I'm lucky, I've been able to find one or two every few months - recent books that have something new, and more importantly, interesting to say. In The Dust of This Planet by Eugene Thacker is one such book. It is not without its flaws, and though it largely avoids making too many conclusions, the depth of exploration alone is enough to make it an interesting read. It's also fairly short, so it doesn't require much of a commitment.
I discovered this book through Radiolab, which did a story on the peculiarity of how 'a book about nihilism' has entered the peripheries of popular culture, despite being heavy reading for general audiences (although it doesn't have quite as much to do with nihilism as they imply, and when compared with most books on philosophy, it isn't exactly as 'heavy' as they imply either). The aforementioned question I will leave for Radiolab; what was more interesting to me was the revelation of its influence on the creator of True Detective, Nic Pizzolatto. Not only do I find True Detective to be hugely entertaining, but I would argue that it is also one of the most philosophical works of television ever to air.
In the book, Thacker discusses what is beyond the boundaries of human understanding, beyond what we can put into language, beyond our intellectual and emotional comprehension, beyond everything human-centric or that can even be related in human terms. He argues that the nature of this 'world-without-us' precludes being able to talk about it, at all, in an intelligible way, so we have turned to the genre of 'horror' to engage with it - thus, the subtitle 'The Horror of Philosophy'. As such, his examination is not of these actual 'beyonds', but of the art we have made in order to comprehend the beyond at all. For example, he tries to discover the underlying philosophical positions behind black metal, one of the most nihilistic and 'dark' or 'horrific' genres of music, among the book's many other projects.
I'd like to, for this first essay of the three parts, examine Thacker's book as a whole, both to critique it, and then draw a few conclusions of my own from it.
Next time, in part two, we'll examine True Detective, the show inspired by the book, and also the very thing (horror) which In the Dust of This Planet argues is the vehicle by which humanity discusses that which is beyond the bounds of our comprehension. We'll take a look at what philosophical questions the show poses, and how it answers them.
I hope to examine, in both works, the common themes of 'nihilism' - a lack of belief in any 'meaning' in the world, which would preclude any purpose or direction - in consideration of the fact that most humans do hold a belief in meaning and purpose, and that this is generally considered 'preferable', and how to reconcile this.
Finally, in the third part, we will examine black metal, and another underlying philosophical/theological position to that genre that I think is illuminating, and it's one that Thacker did not discuss. This particular belief system is interesting because, in a way, it seeks to synthesize nihilism and belief.
Through a critique of the book in this first 'rumination', we will be mostly 'laying groundwork'. We will establish what is meant by the apparent dichotomy of nihilism and belief, the conflict between them, how they relate, and pose the central questions concerning their relation. And hopefully, not just 'pose' them, but sharpen them, give them focus and polish and prepare the way for the possibility of coming to a few answers. And here, as ever, I fully expect any answers to lead to more questions.
On the Genealogy of Monsters
A Critique of 'In the Dust of This Planet'
(First of Three Ruminations Inspired by Above)
A Critique of 'In the Dust of This Planet'
(First of Three Ruminations Inspired by Above)
1.
"The Planet is a planet, it is one planet among other planets, moving the
scale of things out from the terrestrial into the cosmological
framework." (Thacker)
This interpretation, from the preface, outlines the perspective of the book, or at least the perspective that it is stepping into in order to 'comprehend the incomprehensible'. I am reminded of the Voyager probe. As it was leaving our Solar System, it was commanded to turn about and take a photograph of Earth from that great distance away. Carl Sagan famously compared the appearance of Earth to a 'pale blue dot'; his quotation speaks to our insignificance on the 'cosmic level':
"The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the
rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in
glory and triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction
of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of
one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of
some other corner... Our posturings, our
imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged
position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light.
Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our
obscurity – in all this vastness – there is no hint that help will come
from elsewhere to save us from ourselves."
Sagan speaks with the authority of scientist, with the knowledge of someone who has come at least as close as any mere mortal on such a 'lonely speck' could to comprehending the incredible size of the universe - and how small a part of it we are, when one knows the true scale of the cosmos. However, he quickly parts ways with Thacker; while he can approach comprehending our tininess, Sagan's moral judgments and valuations creep into his perspective:
"There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known."
"There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known."
For Sagan, the insignificance of our achievements, of us, our existence and all that we do, leads him to a position whereby 'kindness', peace and environmental preservation ought to be valued. But isn't this just the world-for-us, taking over our perception, even when we look the 'world-without-us' right in the face? If anything, on the cosmic scale, the 'rivers of blood' spilled couldn't matter any more or less than a state of 'world peace'. One cannot even see the 'human scale' goings-on from the perspective of being outside the Solar System - the dot is all there is. To the universe, which is supremely and totally indifferent to us, an abundance of kindness atop the dot would be as invisible as an abundance of cruelties. A utopia would be cooked by a Gamma Ray Burst as easily and instantly as a dystopia.
Sagan is criticizing those who would fight endlessly for more land - if they would only live in peace, they would have comfort, which is all that matters if our achievements are insignificant. But what if more land and more resources would make you and your nation more comfortable? If we are nothing more than animals, who have evolved such that we possess consciousness and powerful technologies, why would it be surprising that violent predators would use these tools to prey on one another? Ironically, we might draw upon what another famous atheistic scientist said to examine this question (also, coincidentally, featured in an episode of Radiolab) - this is what Richard Dawkins has said about the realities of existence as a lifeform on Earth:
Sagan is criticizing those who would fight endlessly for more land - if they would only live in peace, they would have comfort, which is all that matters if our achievements are insignificant. But what if more land and more resources would make you and your nation more comfortable? If we are nothing more than animals, who have evolved such that we possess consciousness and powerful technologies, why would it be surprising that violent predators would use these tools to prey on one another? Ironically, we might draw upon what another famous atheistic scientist said to examine this question (also, coincidentally, featured in an episode of Radiolab) - this is what Richard Dawkins has said about the realities of existence as a lifeform on Earth:
"The total amount of suffering per year in the natural world is beyond all decent contemplation. During the minute that it takes me to compose this sentence, thousands of animals are being eaten alive, many others are running for their lives, whimpering with fear, others are slowly being devoured from within by rasping parasites, thousands of all kinds are dying of starvation, thirst, and disease. It must be so. If there ever is a time of plenty, this very fact will automatically lead to an increase in the population until the natural state of starvation and misery is restored. In a universe of electrons and selfish genes, blind physical forces and genetic replication, some people are going to get hurt, other people are going to get lucky, and you won't find any rhyme or reason in it, nor any justice. The universe that we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil, no good, nothing but pitiless indifference."
Mankind does, factually, appear to simply be another species of animal within the natural world, upon a speck of dust that might be called a 'pale blue dot' from afar. And despite this assessment that Dawkins has made, it is worth noting that even he entertains notions of morality, and certain preferences for human behavior and society. This is the strange duality by which man lives - he must take his most cherished beliefs on faith, but everything he can say to be definitively 'true' about reality, every material fact, points to not just 'insignificance', which is a misnomer, but something more like 'anti-significance' or 'non-significance'. For what does significance mean in an objective sense, anyway? Significant to whom, significant in what fashion? Is the term 'inherently meaningful' a contradiction?
Therefore, it's not just that humanity is not significant to the universe, it's that nothing could be significant to the universe. And yet, since the beginning of human history, and likely in our prehistory, there seems to have always been belief - in such things as inherent meaning, purpose, or moral order. Assessing significance requires consciousness, and it seems that conscious also requires assessing significance - judgments, appraisals, statements of value. But nothing indicates that the universe is conscious. At least outwardly, it displays complete indifference. We're left with the reality that things are significant to us, meaningful to us, but that, as far as we can tell, significance and meaning themselves are 'human concepts'. Of course we would search for them as inherent in the universe, and of course we wouldn't find them.
2.
This is the perspective, in my words, of In The Dust of This Planet. Thacker quickly establishes three concepts, which I have already begun to use: World, which is the world as we interpret it in human terms and on human conditions, one which we imagine as being 'for us'; Earth, which is the world that does not care about us, but that we can measure and comprehend; and finally, Planet, which is the world-without-us, which does not care about us, nor can it be measured. While the religions of the world have often tried to redefine the immeasurable 'beyond' into something that is benevolent towards us, we cannot deny that our indifferent universe occasionally deals with us in terms of disasters - plagues, tsunamis, starvation, insanity, global catastrophe. Thacker's argument is that this 'unexplainable evil' is primarily explored through horror, though theology has touched on these questions as well.
Consider demonic possession, part of Thacker's first topic (Demonology) - a topic of horror, to be sure, but also a theological question. Humanity would like to view reality as constituted in such a way as to be ultimately benevolent towards man, and yet humanity has also posited the existence of powerful, largely undetectable 'demonic' forces, who are at best hateful towards man and at worst, regard him the way that perhaps we would regard a pest animal - as something to be killed for entertainment, or simply as a matter of course.
Why would we imagine such a force? There is the purely naturalistic explanation that men of earlier ages, when faced with an incomprehensible situation, such as the violent insanity of a loved one, would be forced to invent something like the 'demonic', or 'possession'. In such an interpretation, if man willed to see the world as 'about him', then he would need to imagine that there were certain elements 'for him' and 'against him' - this, in order to reconcile the imperfect, indifferent world (that occasionally harms him) with his imagined 'caring' world.
"...Demons
are, generally speaking, both malevolent and malefic. They are
understood as supernatural beings that intend to do evil to humanity,
and do so through supernatural means. Whether they are rendered as
monstrous, chimerical creatures, or as invisible and immaterial dark
forces, the demon often inhabits the edges of the human understanding of
the world. This twofold characteristic - an antagonism towards the
human, and some form of supernatural mediation - are a key part of the
theological concept of the demon." (Thacker)
Why would we imagine such a force? There is the purely naturalistic explanation that men of earlier ages, when faced with an incomprehensible situation, such as the violent insanity of a loved one, would be forced to invent something like the 'demonic', or 'possession'. In such an interpretation, if man willed to see the world as 'about him', then he would need to imagine that there were certain elements 'for him' and 'against him' - this, in order to reconcile the imperfect, indifferent world (that occasionally harms him) with his imagined 'caring' world.
Thus, Thacker explores the role that the 'demon' has played. It has been anthropological, representing harmful or dreadful aspects of humanity which might lead him to do acts of violence, cruelty, 'inhumanity to man'; mythological, which deals with non-human origins of calamities, of which there are many; and finally how all formulations of demons are, conceptually, a negation. The characters in Evil Dead (to use an example of my own) being possessed and forced to do all sorts of horrific and cruel things to themselves and one another might represent our horror at the negation of our moralities, or a sense of moral order in the universe. To put it another way, it is the horror of 'senseless violence'. Here the demon represents a human calamity - similar to real-life instances of serial killers, sociopaths, genocides, or other instances of 'cruelty for cruelty's sake'.
When 'bad things happen to good people' - such as Satan destroying Job's life in the Bible, despite the fact that he is a good man - it negates our sense of cosmic justice, and in this passage Satan stands in for non-human calamity (it's worth noting that this would be an example of a Biblical attempt to reconcile these calamities with their system of a caring, benevolent God). When a force of nature like a storm destroys everything one has, one cannot even blame other humans - the quandary shifts from something like 'God failing to protect man from man', to 'God himself assailing man'. Wherever they arise, these forces negate our ability to interpret the universe as caring in regard to humanity. It is that conflict, that challenge, that produces things like 'demons'.
Thacker touches on a number of themes - the 'magick circle' of occult philosophy, for example, and how it is a symbolic representation of a 'boundary' in both fiction and occult literature.
"The magic circle is both what allows the "hiddenness" of the world to reveal itself, as well as that which protects the human subject from the rational unacceptability of the hidden, world-in-itself." (Thacker)
It is an interesting interpretation, at the very least, and it takes some time to understand exactly the nature of what this boundary represents. In short - it is the point of confrontation, discussed above. If that within the boundary is the world as humans understand it, which includes not just factual data, but also how we'd like to understand it, in terms of morality, justice, or even theological claims about purpose and structure - then the outside of that boundary is that way in which we don't understand the world, which includes not just ignorance of factual data, but also negations of how we'd like to understand it. The confrontation then, is any information or event which points to the existence of things 'beyond the boundary'; in other words, where 'what we'd like to believe' and 'what we'd like to disbelieve' conflict. Perhaps the most straightforward example would be The Devil Rides Out, where a group of humans make their stand within the benevolent protection of their magic circle, and are threatened by malevolent forces beyond it. So long as the characters stay within the circle, they are told, they cannot be harmed - and this seems to hold true in the narrative.
"The question is, what happens when we as human beings confront a world that is radically non-human, impersonal, and even indifferent to the human?" (Thacker)
Perhaps
most troubling is when the boundary becomes blurred, or when one learns
the unsettling fact that the 'beyond' is a type of active antagonist, an aggressor, an initiator of the challenge, which can do so at any time. Lovecraft's story From Beyond is discussed as an example, whereby the motif of the 'magic circle' takes the form of a new technological device used to see into other overlapping dimensions. It reveals a world of oozing forms, possibly beings, all around them, moving through solid matter, and through each other, and who seem to 'see' the scientists once the device is turned on, just as the scientists can see them. Eventually, the 'portal' the device generates begins to fade into the background - the boundary is blurred and revealed not to be a 'portal' at all, but simply a window into the horrific truth that really is.
In the third chapter of the book, Thacker discusses the challenges Heidegger poses towards 'being', namely the lacking of an ontological foundation for the definition of 'life'. The horror of a thing who discovers that its own 'thingness' is called into question might certainly be worthy of discussion here, but it is in this third section that Thacker's project becomes most disjointed; the various sections, while loosely related, at times seem to meander. This is not to say that some of them aren't insightful. But drawing on Heidegger, for example, seems like a forced inclusion of a 'Great philosopher', whereas it might have been more apt to include the scientific challenges towards the idea of 'self' of late - of consciousness as being more like an illusion than evidence of a 'self' which experiences that consciousness. That being said, I can't help but wonder if this section within Thacker's 'Disputatio on the Horror of Theology' was what inspired Rust Cohle's musings on our perception of ourselves in True Detective - we all are so certain that we are each, 'somebody', when, in fact, everyone is 'nobody'. From a biological perspective, Cohle sees every human belief as 'programming'. If one can't be certain of one's own self, how can he be certain of anything? If one's own meaning or purpose would just be a property of his 'programming', how can he really embrace that meaning, or take that purpose seriously?
In the third chapter of the book, Thacker discusses the challenges Heidegger poses towards 'being', namely the lacking of an ontological foundation for the definition of 'life'. The horror of a thing who discovers that its own 'thingness' is called into question might certainly be worthy of discussion here, but it is in this third section that Thacker's project becomes most disjointed; the various sections, while loosely related, at times seem to meander. This is not to say that some of them aren't insightful. But drawing on Heidegger, for example, seems like a forced inclusion of a 'Great philosopher', whereas it might have been more apt to include the scientific challenges towards the idea of 'self' of late - of consciousness as being more like an illusion than evidence of a 'self' which experiences that consciousness. That being said, I can't help but wonder if this section within Thacker's 'Disputatio on the Horror of Theology' was what inspired Rust Cohle's musings on our perception of ourselves in True Detective - we all are so certain that we are each, 'somebody', when, in fact, everyone is 'nobody'. From a biological perspective, Cohle sees every human belief as 'programming'. If one can't be certain of one's own self, how can he be certain of anything? If one's own meaning or purpose would just be a property of his 'programming', how can he really embrace that meaning, or take that purpose seriously?
3.
"Clearly there are no easy answers here. The 'hiddenness of the world' is another name for the supernatural, exterior to its assimilation by either science or religion - that is, exterior to the world-for-us. But these days we like to think that we are much too cynical, too smart to buy into this - the supernatural no longer exists, is no longer possible... or at least not in the same way. In a sense, it is hard to escape the sense of living in a world that is not just a human world, but also a planet, a globe, a climate, an infosphere, an atmosphere, a weather pattern... a rift, a techtonic shift, a storm, a cataclysm. If the supernatural in a conventional sense is no longer possible, what remains after the "death of God" is an occulted, hidden world. Philosophically speaking, the enigma we face is how to confront this world, without immediately presuming that it is identical to the world-for-us..." (Thacker)
So what are we to make of this? I cannot cover the entire work here, nor would I. Despite the criticisms I'm about to make, I would stress that this is, overall, an insightful read, and I would recommend it to anyone interested in these topics so that they can draw their own conclusions. For now, here are a few of mine.
Personally, while I think the interpretation at large is interesting, I think the construction offered of the three 'worlds' is a bit overwrought. At times, the book seems cluttered with these terms and other jargon. The analogy discussed of the 'magick circle' as a boundary elucidates this much better, and I wish Thacker had used it or something similar in his preface to lay his groundwork. But even the 'magick circle' is just an analogy, an attempt to use human language to describe that which is defined as beyond the limits of human comprehension, which is problematic from the start.
This ties into another issue I have. I think it is unhelpful to assert a concept that is defined as ineffable, and therefore claim that one can't even talk about the very concept being asserted. In Thacker's construction, the terminology involves a human label for discussing the incomprehensible, which itself therefore becomes 'another thing'; the incomprehensible itself is, by definition, never truly discussed. I would argue that anything that we are able to discuss (at least to some extent) cannot be called totally incomprehensible - there are varying degrees to which we can understand something. Mathematicians can use infinity in an equation without necessarily being able to conceive of an actual infinite quantity. If we experience something that our worldview cannot explain, we still have experienced something - framing things in terms of a 'beyond' which cannot be talked about does not seem useful unless we've witnessed that beyond itself, which we haven't. This always requires the positing of another level, past the level we're talking about. This kind of philosophical system is always troubling for me.
In a way, I'm almost prepared to antithetically assert that the world we live on is just the Planet, and nothing more. The world-in-itself (explained by our science), and the world-for-us (made up of our concepts of morality, justice, meaning, etc.) are, from the perspective of the cosmos, just the by-products of our consciousness. Both these interpretations aren't 'real', but properties of the brain of a certain lifeform that happened to evolve in a particular biological system.
In principle, this needn't bother us too much, though - perhaps the best summation of this position would be that the of knowledge of our insignificance on the cosmic scale might be similarly insignificant to us. The value systems that mankind has arrived at are ultimately indifferent themselves - indifferent to how insignificant they are. Just as man's tendency to find meaning and purpose in things may lead him to the folly of looking for his meaning or purpose to the universe, the universe's indifference to man will not abate this tendency, either. I might offer an epigram: "Man need not that the universe should love him in order that he should love."
Personally, while I think the interpretation at large is interesting, I think the construction offered of the three 'worlds' is a bit overwrought. At times, the book seems cluttered with these terms and other jargon. The analogy discussed of the 'magick circle' as a boundary elucidates this much better, and I wish Thacker had used it or something similar in his preface to lay his groundwork. But even the 'magick circle' is just an analogy, an attempt to use human language to describe that which is defined as beyond the limits of human comprehension, which is problematic from the start.
This ties into another issue I have. I think it is unhelpful to assert a concept that is defined as ineffable, and therefore claim that one can't even talk about the very concept being asserted. In Thacker's construction, the terminology involves a human label for discussing the incomprehensible, which itself therefore becomes 'another thing'; the incomprehensible itself is, by definition, never truly discussed. I would argue that anything that we are able to discuss (at least to some extent) cannot be called totally incomprehensible - there are varying degrees to which we can understand something. Mathematicians can use infinity in an equation without necessarily being able to conceive of an actual infinite quantity. If we experience something that our worldview cannot explain, we still have experienced something - framing things in terms of a 'beyond' which cannot be talked about does not seem useful unless we've witnessed that beyond itself, which we haven't. This always requires the positing of another level, past the level we're talking about. This kind of philosophical system is always troubling for me.
In a way, I'm almost prepared to antithetically assert that the world we live on is just the Planet, and nothing more. The world-in-itself (explained by our science), and the world-for-us (made up of our concepts of morality, justice, meaning, etc.) are, from the perspective of the cosmos, just the by-products of our consciousness. Both these interpretations aren't 'real', but properties of the brain of a certain lifeform that happened to evolve in a particular biological system.
In principle, this needn't bother us too much, though - perhaps the best summation of this position would be that the of knowledge of our insignificance on the cosmic scale might be similarly insignificant to us. The value systems that mankind has arrived at are ultimately indifferent themselves - indifferent to how insignificant they are. Just as man's tendency to find meaning and purpose in things may lead him to the folly of looking for his meaning or purpose to the universe, the universe's indifference to man will not abate this tendency, either. I might offer an epigram: "Man need not that the universe should love him in order that he should love."
One could call this position one of 'fictionalism' in regard to religion, morality, politics, etc. Belief systems are conceptual bureaucracies of sorts - orders of rank amongst values that men hold. When a man's preferences for 'how life ought to be' are structured, they become a 'morality', but one would not claim that these 'exist', at least not in the same way as people, rocks or trees exist. It hardly seems worth refuting Plato's Theory of the Forms, or any kin-perspectives, because I'm not aware of anyone advocating for Platonic metaphysics anymore. But it seems to me that if we do leave behind supernatural explanations (God's law, or 'the good'), and acknowledge that our values are in no way objectively true or inherently true of the cosmos, then we can embrace the Planet for what it is, indifferent to us. Thus the boundary of the world as we understand it will never be 'challenged' by the demons of negation, because the world as we understand it is one that is fundamentally indifferent, and about which we don't understand everything.
But herein lies the problem. This is where we start to more deeply touch on the issue of nihilism vs. 'belief', because most moral systems, religions, or other constructions of reality do not permit the sort of relativism we're engaging in here. In order to truly accept a belief system, one must accept it as true, and become a dogmatist - for an affirmation of a belief as truth also asserts that its negation is false. So while we might argue that the way out of nihilism is to simply adopt a value system, acknowledging that it would be 'fictional' or 'relative', that very knowledge works against the belief itself.
We might stand at a distance and admire a devout Buddhist and the strength of his beliefs, how it gives him contentment, direction, meaning, purpose. Or consider what one with such devotion can accomplish! Thích Quảng Đức burned himself alive to make a political statement, being so devoted to his cause and so convinced by his religion that he was able to endure such agony without moving a muscle or screaming, according to eyewitnesses. But surely the Buddhist himself wholeheartedly believes in the tenets of Buddhism; his 'enlightenment' is not possible for us, so long as we do not actually accept his religion as fact. To put it crudely, Schopenhauer praised asceticism, Kierkegaard made his 'leap of faith', but it remains to be shown that belief can be 'willed' in such a simple sense. Even Pascal, following his wager includes a number of arguments to deal with the fact that one cannot simply 'make oneself believe' (ironic, considering that the wager is itself an attempt to 'prove' belief, strictly with argument). In short, the problem is that once we can see beliefs and values for what they are, and even see the value in values, then the acceptance of them, the task of believing in them, becomes a different matter.
We might stand at a distance and admire a devout Buddhist and the strength of his beliefs, how it gives him contentment, direction, meaning, purpose. Or consider what one with such devotion can accomplish! Thích Quảng Đức burned himself alive to make a political statement, being so devoted to his cause and so convinced by his religion that he was able to endure such agony without moving a muscle or screaming, according to eyewitnesses. But surely the Buddhist himself wholeheartedly believes in the tenets of Buddhism; his 'enlightenment' is not possible for us, so long as we do not actually accept his religion as fact. To put it crudely, Schopenhauer praised asceticism, Kierkegaard made his 'leap of faith', but it remains to be shown that belief can be 'willed' in such a simple sense. Even Pascal, following his wager includes a number of arguments to deal with the fact that one cannot simply 'make oneself believe' (ironic, considering that the wager is itself an attempt to 'prove' belief, strictly with argument). In short, the problem is that once we can see beliefs and values for what they are, and even see the value in values, then the acceptance of them, the task of believing in them, becomes a different matter.
Consequently, to many who have come to renounce all moral systems, political ideologies, or values as merely subjective, or 'human-centric' - the eventual answer is nihilism. To some, the 'will to truth' would lead them to reject all such beliefs, out of good conscience if nothing else. Others, perhaps those who are thinking on the 'cosmic scale', might be led there by the nagging thought that all of our works, even those most 'permanent' (carved into stone, like Mt. Rushmore, for example), will eventually be ground to dust and forgotten. In other words, subjective or human-centric meaning is not enduring; all becomes meaningless in the end. If one cannot force oneself to believe that there is any enduring, human meaning to existence, and one sees no reason for any meaning inherent to existence - then nihilism seems to be the only rational outcome.
4.
In a way, one could say that 'demons are the price of value' - to embrace a worldview that allows for meaning, purpose, direction, significance, one will inevitably face a cosmos that will negate this worldview. Belief, to put it one way, seems to be based on 'necessary fictions', making it all the harder to accept. And yet, to not accept such a worldview, one faces nihilism. And perhaps nihilism could be called a 'demon' in its own right - I remember reading of the psychological stress that Christians who find their faith on the wane endure, as they are wrought with fears about the 'price of doubting'. Thus we are left with a project that ultimately offers us an untenable choice between nihilism and self-deception.
Perhaps this is reflected in what Thacker charts as the various types of 'monsters' to have appeared in fiction and supernatural tales - the Wolf-man, Frankenstein's monster, and Dracula are all monsters with 'names', a clear 'thing' that can be understood and defeated. In a way, these are the most basic fears - fear of men, beasts, 'the other'. Then, proceeding to 'horrors' that are less definable - we have more amorphous monsters, like blobs, clouds, gasses, slimes, oozes, etc. - something more akin to a fear of 'forces of nature', calamities from a non-human source. Modern zombie films might be included in this fold as well, since the real 'monster' is disease and extinction. But also examined are Lovecraftian 'nameless horrors', the inexplicable spiral that appears over the town in Uzumaki, or the various horror settings where the world itself is the monster.
These are examples of the degrees to which 'the evil' - the aspect of the world being portrayed or symbolized, which is hostile to humanity - can be understood and identified. I would argue that this degree is inversely related to one's skepticism of man's 'belief systems'. The more one believes, the less one comprehends - the less one believes, the closer they come to the very worst 'monster', meaninglessness itself. Thus, paradoxically, comprehension leads to a lack of comprehension, and reason leads one to an unreasonable place. One is reminded of Nietzsche's quote about 'staring into the abyss' (I've mostly avoided Nietzsche because he'd simply be too obvious to include here, though we won't be able to avoid talking about him when it comes to True Detective). Or maybe Lovecraft will suffice. His magnum opus, The Call of Cthulhu, states what could be called Lovecraft's thesis on the nature of horror, and the underlying theme of his works. In the opening paragraph that Thacker also quotes in the book, Lovecraft writes:
"The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the
human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of
ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant
that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own
direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing
together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of
reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go
mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace
and safety of a new dark age."
Accordingly, purveyors of 'cosmic horror', like Lovecraft and his many inheritors, spun stories that were largely devoid of meaning. There is no 'moral' at the end of a Lovecraftian tale, no salvation. His protagonists, who are usually unremarkable in almost every way, are torn asunder like mannequins. The Great Old Ones of Lovecraft's mythology are not even concerned with mankind's destruction, it is merely one consequence of their existence, as a matter of course. The surreal horror films of David Cronenburg (Videodrome) or David Lynch (Lost Highway) approach this abject fear, in a sense, from which there is little to no understanding derived or emergence from the nightmare.
And perhaps it is here that I might diverge with Thacker again, while perhaps giving in to his doctrine of an 'incomprehensible beyond' at the same time. For I would argue that horror is shown by his exegesis of the genre to be extremely limited by our acceptance of the 'world-for-us'. The closer the genre proceeds to an acceptance of 'Planet', the more obscure the work. Until, eventually, one reaches the conclusion that more mental breakdowns have been probably been achieved by Camus, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche or Sartre than by Stoker, Wollstonecraft, Lovecraft or King. Horror is for those who have 'world interpretations'; philosophy can challenge the very viability of a 'world interpretation'. In one sense, the attempt to comprehend the incomprehensible world may be too-well achieved by horror, for monsters themselves put a label on the 'nameless fear' and work it into a human-centric understanding, which is exactly the function of such a world interpretation. In other words - demons may be scary to Christians, but if one is a thorough skeptic, they have no reason to believe in 'the demonic' at all. As Thacker says, after the "death of God", even the sudden, unexpected or unexplained catastrophe need not be 'inexplicable'. The cause of a tragedy should still be thought natural rather than supernatural, even if it is 'senseless' (as if the people who say such things would think of any tragedy as 'sensible').
In one sense, the theist's greatest fear might be his own apostasy - the renunciation of the belief system itself. But this is a fear that horror struggles to depict, because it comes closer to that 'nameless fear', 'dread', or maybe something more like an 'existential crisis'. Ultimately, it is a horror found in philosophy, and where it is found in horror, it is often on the outskirts, because the 'true believer' has no interest in confronting this boundary. The closer one comes to the boundary, the less they believe. So while the examination of how horror confronts 'the Planet' is revealing, it is only revealing of us, not 'the Planet' itself. In the words of Rust Cohle, it reveals that 'our mutual illusions' bear a price. It reveals that one must choose between a world-for-us, with angels and demons, or a mere Planet.
But how can we tolerate such a choice? How could one decide this? On what basis should one decide? How could one bear a mere 'Planetary existence', a perspective of total relativism and subjectivism - dare we say nihilism? On the contrary, how could one bear self-deception, or 'make oneself believe'? Is there a basis to be found for belief - in morality, significance, meaning or purpose - that wouldn't be a 'necessary fiction'? And is it really just a divide between belief or nihilism? Is there a third option, or a fourth?
***
Next time, in part two, we will dive right into True Detective. And, as I promised, our series on emotions will be continued for a second part....just not this time. Probably after the 'three ruminations' are done. In a way, this article does expand on some of those same ideas, however. Anything to add? Leave it in the comments, look forward to discussing with you!
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