The Problem of Evil; or, Bing Crosby Puffed Chron'

Hello, beautiful, wonderful brothers and sisters!

I am preparing my anus for the "holiday" season.  I don't like it, friends.  I told everyone that I didn't want any presents.  Particularly my parents.  I said "I don't want you to get anything for me."  They said "tough shit."  Then I had to go to a mall in Denver to get obligatory presents and I could see all the dark-eyed, withered souls of these formerly free people milling around with drool coming out of their mouths, hypersalivating like Pavlov's dogs over the sales and the goods and the wares and all of the bull shit plastic inanery we associate with the holiday season with such fondness.

Oh, Santa, you bastard fuck.  You have taught our children to over-eat and that their every thought should center around getting as many consumer goods into their little lives as they possibly can.  You have taught our children that love comes in a cardboard and cellophane box, brightly colored, plastered with the faces of other anonymous Photoshopped child models, smiling just as big as they possibly can, tears nearly rolling down their eyes at the wonder and magic that is the newest media-product brainwashing scam.  The "Iron Man" action figure that shows boys that men don't have feelings, nor even sympathetic human eyes with which to look upon the human race.  The "customizable hair Barbie" that teaches girls that, for fucks sake, nothing else matters to a girl aside from her ability to climb the socio-economic ladder through a system of sexual slavery we call "imposed monogamy and marriage."

But listen here.  

This might surprise you...

I love Bing Crosby.  That guy had a problem beating his wife, I'm told, which I'm not really down with.  But he also smoked a lot of cheeba, which means that he had a good side to him too.  And when I hear him singing "White Christmas," I get a little tear in my eye.  His voice is so beautiful.  Plus, the song is about not wanting anything aside from some nice weather on Christmas, which can't be bought or sold or advertised for by a multinational like Matel or Nintendo.  So it's good.

When I hear Big Bing sing, I get all warm inside and I remember that my parents buying me some presents makes them pretty happy.  And, I guess, if they're getting me a new racquetball racquet or something like that, then at least it will be something that has some actual value to me.  And the other thing is that my mom really pulls out all the stops with the holiday food preparation.  Although I am trying (struggling) to live a life of minimalist proportions, in which I don't consume more than I need, this rule simply falls by the way when I go to Mom and Dad's house (or my cousins' house for Thanksgiving, nom nom nom).  My mother's food is too good to be denied by any particular ideology or creed.  I love it.

Furthermore, many people are goddamn cheerful around the holidays.  Even if it's a phony cheeriness that they put on because they feel compelled to by some bizarre tradition.  And sometimes, phony cheerfulness is all we need to push ourselves into legitimate cheerfulness.  I love seeing smiling faces.

Santa is a capitalist prick and I think he shorted our whole economy using credit default swaps back in 2007.  He seems only interested in the plastic shit and the cash.  But my family has always been interested in the warm smile and the communal jolly laugh and the feast of ten-thousand delicious calories, more so than in Santa's hell-scape of consumerist Christmas.

I am excited for food and love.

So to anyone celebrating the holiday we call Christmas, which is supposedly the birthday of one Jesus Christ (who by all accounts was a peace loving, minimalist hippie who was way into forgiveness) Merry Christmas.  For those not celebrating Christmas, which wasn't actually Christ's birthday but rather an amalgamation of co-opted pagan celebrations which the Christians decided to arbitrarily turn into Jesus' birthday, and which the Americans decided to turn into "a strong 4th quarter, and fuck everyone else," Happy Holiday Season to you!

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Okay, now onto the meat of this thing here.  I didn't do much of my own homework in school this last semester.  I was struck by the sense that most of it was shit-busy work and that I wasn't learning anything in any of my classes that couldn't be learned in an afternoon just reading a textbook, in solitude, for free.  I was also struck by the distinct notion that school is (in some cases) only a way to syphon minds into the shackles of consumer-capitalism.  A way to transform oneself into a more perfect worker/consumer.  I never used to ask "why would I want to increase my consumption power?"  I took it as a given that I would just want to consume as much as possible for as long as possible and that that was life.  Most people in America seem to feel this way.  And school helps create that imposed dream for people.

I haven't decided yet whether I want to stay in school or not.  It seems wasteful on the one hand, but on the other hand, at least I get to see more pretty girls in school.  And I get to have lively conversations with like-minded students sometimes, when I am able to hi-jack the class session and keep the teacher from getting a word in edgewise.

Either way, my homework was not done much this semester, but I still did some homework for some other people.  I love doing the homework of others.  I'm going to share an essay I wrote for a friend with you, because I kinda liked it, and apparently my friend's professor gave him an "A" on the essay.  Tell me what you think about Bring Crosby and his sexy marijuana smoking voice, the fact that Christmas doesn't really have anything to do with anything, and was kind of an illegitimate holiday in the first place, or just tell me what you thought about my essay.  No pictures today, folks.  I'm writing a lot lately, and have had less time or patience to dick around with Photoshop.

Here you go.

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Evil, Evil, Everywhere! But Where’s the Problem?

            Since the dawn of consciousness in humankind, it appears as though people have been gazing up toward the sky in search of solace, meaning, comfort and strength.  The concept of a “God,” or of many Gods, has probably been around as long as any other human philosophical construct.  Allegiance to various Gods and the myriad religious dogmas built up around these deities has undoubtedly brought millions and millions of humans a richer and more valuable life experience.  That same allegiance has equally without doubt caused the suffering and the death of countless humans.  No wonder, then, that even up to modern times, so many philosophers have found it worthwhile to write and think and talk about the existence of God.  Many philosophers have found themselves dug deep into one side of a seemingly two-sided argument over the existence or non-existence of God.  One of the most well known arguments against the existence of God is known as the “Problem of Evil.”  Here, we will explore the structure of the Problem of Evil, and then briefly discuss its implications and its relevancy today in light of the plethora of philosophical constructs available to the young modern philosopher.

            The Problem of Evil argues against the existence of a God on the grounds that there exists “evil” in the world.  The argument goes that a God, which is presumed to be omnibenevolent, omniscient and omnipotent, would never allow evil to exist.  The proponents of this argument explain that, in a world in which evil exists, God could have any two of the aforementioned qualities at once, but never all three simultaneously.  It should be understood here, then, what the argument is really arguing.  The Problem of Evil argues against a very specific kind of God, namely the Judeo-Christian God called Yaweh.  Adherents to Judeo-Christian dogma are commonly known to describe their God as all-knowing, all-powerful and all-good.  The Problem of Evil does not speak well to other religious systems, such as Buddhism, which elevates no God, Native American religious traditions, which in some areas accept the Earth in place of God, Hinduism, which elevates multiple beings to a Godlike status, or a handful of ancient traditions which resemble some of these modern modes of religious thought.  A proponent of the Problem of Evil ought to clarify that the argument they submit only truly applies to a fraction of existing religious thought.

            Let us discount other religions and other “God beliefs,” then, and focus on any religion that elevates a single God to the status of omnipotence, omniscience and omnibenevolence.  The argument goes that God could indeed be omnipotent, omniscient, but not omnibenevolent, and evil could exist.  God, in this instance, has clear knowledge of evil, and the power to stop it, but does not stop it because God is, to use the vulgar term, a “jerk.”  The argument goes on to say that God could be all-good, and all-powerful, but not all-knowledgeable, leaving God capable and willing to stop evil, but tragically unaware of evil’s existence in the world.  Finally, the argument says that God could be all-good and all-knowing, seeing the world anguish and wanting very much to help, but that God is somehow bound and not powerful enough to destroy the evil.  At the outset, the argument makes sense, and is a compelling one in the face of common Judeo-Christian rhetoric.  The argument is so compelling that it has become a quintessential part of the current lexicon in the sense that few people grow up without being confronted with questions like “why does God let trains crash?” or “how could God have allowed the Holocaust to occur?”

            There exists a problem with the Problem of Evil, though.  The problem is this: the first assertion that the argument makes is that “there is evil in the world.”  One might exclaim, “where is the problem with this assertion?  Of course there is evil!”  Interestingly, though, this assertion is a bit shortsighted.  One must be brave enough here to look at the concept of evil for what it really is.  Most times, people seem to talk about evil, and about morality in general, as though it were some objective truth floating out in the ether, waiting for good men and women to tune in to.  This cannot be shown in any compelling way, however, to be the case.  A clear look at the term “evil,” and it’s brother, “good,” shows only two words used to describe varying levels of discomfort that we endure as a rapidly evolving species here on this carbon rich planet. 

We say that train crashes may be evil, or that the Holocaust was certainly evil.  But what we really mean to say is that train crashes and Holocausts are a terrible setback in the lives of some, or perhaps millions, of members of this species.  As preposterous as it may seem, we can be certain that there are people in the world to this day that think that the Holocaust was a good thing.  It is easy to see bigotry and anger of this nature to be the result of some academic or intellectual retardation.  But humans, as a species, have an odd compulsion to label and to segregate.  So the person who believes that the Holocaust was a desirable event is called “evil,” more often than he is called “sick” or “underdeveloped,” or “unloved.”

            In the grand natural sense, in a world governed by very specific natural laws, the idea of a definitive morality to which we are somehow privy seems absurd.  Rationale and history point to morality as being purely subjective.  The Problem of Evil supposes the opposite: that morality is objective.  But, if morality is objective, if not almost palpable, as the argument states, then there must be some kind of deity or meta-natural consciousness calling the game of “good and evil” from the sidelines.  The Problem of Evil argument, in this way, defeats itself, or at the very least makes itself moot.  Oddly, in these modern times, when people seem so entrenched in rhetoric and platitude, you will rarely find a thinker who worships Yaweh, or any such similar God, who is brave enough to let some of their ideas soften just slightly enough to make this rebuttal. 

Our rebuttal here is dependent on admission that we, as people, can know nothing of true morality outside of the very specific things we may or may not believe from whatever religious texts we may hold to be true.  Even then, all must be dependent upon an academic mind, which is willing to search for fallibility or scientifically disproven information in said texts, in order that we may parse out what might be a reasonable philosophical modality and what might just be tacked on “frill.”  The tendency of modern religious zealots, to the contrary, seems to be to proudly proclaim, at all times, a monopoly on morality, which they see as definite and exclusively theirs, coupled with a stubborn resistance to reviewing their dogma in the light of science and history.  Thus, the Problem of Evil continues to confound said zealots, and continues to impress those atheists who believe that confounding a confused human is tantamount to proving that there is nothing metaphysical or supernatural happening in the universe.  In the end, either side of this argument tends to force the arguer into a position of deliberate ignorance. 

            The Problem of Evil is a valiant attempt to tear apart a specific kind of religious belief.  Many claim that the mechanism disproves any deity whatsoever.  They are wrong.  Just as they are wrong, so it would seem are the conservatively religious, who close their minds to the wonders of science and philosophy as though they were closing themselves off from an attacking barbarian horde.  The Problem of Evil has been around for a long time, and is a wonderful thought experiment and a wonderful philosophical teaching tool.  Like so many things, though, once it has been mulled over for a time, it can be shown for just what it is: only a tool.  A way to get the imagination hustling anew.  A way to get a human back into that humble position, gazing up at the skies, muttering to herself quietly under her breath: “just what the hell is going on here?!”

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Love.