7/27/2006

 

Religion and Philosophy

I just came back from the youth project "The Dream Factory". It was very heavy but also very nice.
Below is something I wrote for a philosophy discussion group. I will translate it to English soon when I have time.


Het onderstaande is mijn reactie op de vraag van Dries:

“Is het terecht om filosofie gelijk te stellen met redelijkheid en religie met gehoorzaamheid aan dogma's?”

Mijn antwoord is nee. Lange tijd heb ik gedacht dat religie en filosofie niet samen kunnen gaan omdat filosofie kritisch is en religie dogmatisch.

Eigenlijk ben ik door Levinas te lezen van gedachten veranderd. Een fundamenteel verschil tussen filosofie en religie is denk ik dat in de filosofie in principe alles ter discussie gesteld kan worden, terwijl dit voor religie niet geldt, uiteindelijk is er een basis waar je in wilt geloven en die je dus wilt aannemen en niet ter discussie wilt stellen. Hoewel er aan de andere kant, ondanks de keuze om te geloven, tegelijkertijd toch nog twijfel kan zijn of waar je in gelooft de waarheid is of niet.
In het geloof van Levinas is ethiek heel sterk aanwezig, eigenlijk vindt hij ethiek belangrijker dan religie. Alles wat hij zegt over God en geloven staat in dienst van dat mensen goed omgaan met hun medemensen. Het goddelijke is een gebod om goed te zijn voor de ander.
Maar Levinas' religieuze filosofie is niet dogmatisch (ondanks het woord "gebod" dat ik net gebruikte). Volgens Levinas kan de ander mij bevrijden uit mijn egoïstische wereld waarin ik precies weet hoe alles zit en waarin ik anderen vertel wat zij moeten doen. Ik zit opgesloten in mijn eigen gedachtewereld, mijn vastgeroeste ideeën die ik van vroeger heb meegekregen. De ander kan mij laten zien dat er meer is dan mijn persoonlijke gedachten, mijn subjectieve perspectief. Iemand anders kijkt heel anders naar de wereld. Wat ik als waar beschouw is mijn subjectieve waarheid, geen absolute universele waarheid. De ander kan mij wakker schudden en laten zien dat er meer is. Als ik mij openstel voor de ander kan ik daarvan leren. Dogma's zijn benauwend, beperkend. Als ik mij openstel en mijzelf en mijn gedrag ter discussie stel, kan ik zien dat er oneindig meer is. Misschien kijkt en handelt de ander op een manier die voor mij ook goed is en kan ik daarin leren van de ander. De tegenstelling is groot tussen mijn eigen kleine gedachtewereld en de oneindige wereld daarbuiten met al die andere mensen met een eigen bewustzijn. Die oneindigheid is God. En door mij open te stellen voor de oneindigheid transcendeer ik, stijg ik uit boven mijn eigen kleine wereld.

Het lijkt me duidelijk dat deze manier van geloven niet dogmatisch is. God is geen boze man op een wolk die bevelen geeft en straft en beloont naar hoe hem dat uitkomt. God is een kracht van oneindige goedheid die mensen wakker schudt, hen aanspreekt op hun geweten en hun verantwoordelijkheid voor de medemens. En dat gebeurt door de ander die voor mij staat en een beroep op mij doet.
Ik denk dat deze vorm van religie de filosofie/ethiek sterker maakt, dus het botst juist niet maar het versterkt elkaar. Religie heeft ergens een cirkelredenering in zich als basis. Ethiek heeft dat ook. Uiteindelijk is er geen antwoord op de vraag: "Waarom zou ik in God geloven?" of "Bestaat God?" en ook niet op de vraag: "Waarom is de ene daad goed en de andere slecht?"
Je kunt zeggen dat er tekenen in de wereld zijn waaruit blijkt dat God bestaat of je kunt zeggen dat je zijn aanwezigheid kunt voelen. Maar uiteindelijk weten wij mensen nooit zeker of God wel of niet bestaat.
En je kunt zeggen dat het slecht is om andere mensen pijn te doen of dood te maken, of dat een samenleving beter functioneert als je wat ethische regels hebt, maar uiteindelijk kun je de vraag niet beantwoorden wat het universele onderscheid is tussen goed en kwaad, en waarom.

Maar als je die twee dingen aanneemt, dat God bestaat en dat het mogelijk is om op een onderbouwde manier onderscheid te maken tussen goed en kwaad, dan leidt dit volgens mij tot een hele krachtige religieuze ethiek of ethische religie, bij Levinas.
Het is een verhaal dat intern klopt volgens mij, en dat als een leidraad tot ethisch handelen kan dienen, een leidraad die geweld afkeurt en die stimuleert dat mensen zich bewust zijn van wat het effect van hun handelen op anderen is. Volgens mijn persoonlijke maatstaven leidt deze ethiek tot een moreel goed resultaat.

En voor Levinas is het doel van religie precies hetzelfde als van ethiek: dat mensen goed met elkaar omgaan. Dat is wat God wil voor de mensen.

Groeten,

Esther

7/05/2006

 

Generalisations and reductionism

Here's an interesting Orkut discussion, partly in reaction to my post about ethical receptiveness.
(Sorry, I don't have time to make a nice layout.) In a discussion about "Myths about Muslims", Shane asked: Why generalise ever?


The Emperor (SRK)

7/5/2006 5:18 AM

"Why generalise EVER?"

Typecasting and generalisatios happen all the time and is perfectly acceptable. The entire marketing branding business runs on generalisations. Every person who generalises knows that whatis being said is not applicable to 100% of the population sample being referred to.Thinking that is absolutely immature really.

Shane

I hate generalisations in general 7/5/2006 5:51 AM

SRK I think on the generalisations thing, I have been the exception to so many generalisations over the years - about children, teenagers, adults, men, Irish people, Europeans, social class, heavy metal fans ( ) and so on - that I began to think that generalisations were just bullshit dishonesty.So perhaps my aversion to them comes from my personal experience. It gets annoying when people CONSTANTLY make wrong assumptions about me based on the above criteria. So I avoid doing it to others.(Ha ha, actually if I was to generalise about the Muslims I know I would say - friendly, enthusiastic, highly sociable, music-loving, artistic, tolerant, peace-loving and easy-going. Seriously! )

Esther

7/5/2006 6:14 AM

I think generalisations should be avoided as much as possible.It is possible to present statistics, like: In Holland 30 percent of the Christians goes to church every Sunday (I don't know the real percentage).But it is wrong to say: You are a Dutch Christian so your are this type of person who never goes to the church, I know you people.

shane

7/5/2006 6:25 AM

Exactly Esther
So go play some cricket, eat curry, worship some multi-armed god, work in a call-centre and hate Muslims like all the rest of you Indians SRK!(In case it's not completely obvious - I'm totally joking! Now I'm off to track down a leprechaun who owes me money... )

The Emperor

7/5/2006 6:34 AM

"You are a Dutch Christian so your are this type of person who never goes to the church, I know you people."
Generalisations are not rude as you make them to be. It is just your resistance to be clubbed into a group, for fearing of losing you individuality that makes you rebel against the concept of generalisations. If only 30% of the Dutch Christians go to Church, then it would be a valid generalisation if somebody were to say that Dutch Christians don't go to Church.When one deals with factual accuracy, it has to be backed up accurately and with a source.Nevertheless people are welcome t their biases and prejudices against 'generalisations'.

The Emperor

7/5/2006 6:40 AM

"work in a call-centre and hate Muslims"
A very tiny proportion of Indians, even in orkut, work in call centres or hate Muslims. This part of your statement is patently wrong and that is an incorrect generalisation.Besides, you spoke your thoughts out, masked in a light hearted vein - no joke.

Esther

7/5/2006 7:17 AM

"Generalisations are not rude as you make them to be. It is just your resistance to be clubbed into a group, for fearing of losing you individuality that makes you rebel against the concept of generalisations. If only 30% of the Dutch Christians go to Church, then it would be a valid generalisation if somebody were to say that Dutch Christians don't go to Church."

I rebel indeed because my individuality is reduced to a category. It is very well possible that I belong to the 30% percent who goes every week without any exception, then I feel insulted when you assume that I don't go to the church (this is all just an example still, I don't really go to church).And if 98% of the Indians like cricket (not that that's a realistic percentage) it is still possible that you belong to the 2 percent who hates it

shane

Myths about dividing individuals into groups 7/5/2006 7:54 AM

If there was a newspaper headline saying "DUTCH CHRISTIANS DON'T GO TO CHURCH" I wouldn't be too bothered so long as the first line read:"A new study shows that 70% of Dutch Christians do not go to church..."

The newspapers have an excuse in their headline because there is a shortage of space that they can make up for by being specific within the body text. There's no such excuse for people on orkut - all they need to do to VASTLY increase the accuracy of their statement is to add the words "some," "many" or "most" to the statement Anyway at what point does a fair generalisation become an "unfair generalisation?" Supposing 40% of Dutch Christians go to church? Or 49.9%? Is it still okay to say they don't?In China there is 1.06 males for every 1 female.http://www.cia.gov/cia/publications/factbook/geos/ch.htmlDoes that mean it's a fair generalisation to say that Chinese people are men?

Prateek

7/5/2006 7:58 AM

I agree with Esther and Shane that generalisation should be avoided as much as possible but I dont agree when you say "some are bad and most of the muslims are good". Definitely the acts of fanatics don't represent the majority but there is no doubt that majority of the muslim population is brainwashed and are easy targets for the fanatics

shane

7/5/2006 8:02 AM

Fair enough Prateek. You're right there in India with a high Muslim population and many Muslim neighbouring countries so I imagine you'd know more about it than me so I can't really say.

The Emperormanage

7/5/2006 8:22 AM

"I rebel indeed because my individuality is reduced to a category. It is very well possible that I belong to the 30% percent who goes every week without any exeption, then I feel insulted when you assume that I don't go to the church (this is all just an example still, I don't really go to church)."

When you personalise, that is where you are wrong. When the generalisation is about Dutch Christians it is not about you. You cannot infer from the generalisation that I mean that you don't go to Church.

The Emperor

7/5/2006 8:25 AM

"Anyway at what point does a fair generalisation become an "unfair generalisation?""

It becomes an incorrect generalisation, when the generalisation lends itself to misrepresentation. Knowing when to draw the line while generalising is important and that requires maturity, honesty and skill.

The Emperor

7/5/2006 8:26 AM

"Does that mean it's a fair generalisation to say that Chinese people are men?"

People who don't know how to use generalisations, shouldn't obviously use it!

Esther

7/5/2006 8:33 AM

That's it, generalisations in newspapers because of lack of space is fine, reductions of an individual to a category is not ok.

(as long as the generalisation is based on research and the real numbers are mentioned as well)

shane

7/5/2006 8:39 AM

Why not say "MOST Dutch Christians don't go to church?"Why do you have to say "Dutch Christians don't go to church?"If I made a generalisation like the latter one in an article my editor would kill me.


7/03/2006

 

Ethical receptiveness and the stranger

The text below is a long one again, but on the other hand you will have three weeks the time to read this post, since I won't post here the coming weeks, until the 22nd of July, because I will be leading the project of "The Dream Factory".

During my vacation in Spain I read the book “The philosophy of Emmanuel Levinas”, from Jan Keij. As a writing exercise I will apply a chapter of that book – called “Ethical receptiveness” (Ethische raakbaarheid) to the specific situation of an ethical relation / meeting between a native (me) and a stranger (the other).

Ethical receptiveness / affectedness means that I am sensitive for the suffering of others, that I am not indifferent towards it. This receptiveness is a condition which enables ethical responsibility. If I could not be touched by the suffering of another person, I wouldn’t feel an impulse to take my responsibility for the other upon me. I experience the being touched by the other as being called by him, as be
ing directed towards him.
Ethical receptiveness makes it possible that in my actions, I am not only guided by selfish motives, but that I can put them aside for a while and care for another person. His request to me contains an absolute ethical command and principle, which can serve as a guide for my ethical actions. The principle says t
hat I am not allowed to be indifferent towards others. It’s a command to care about their well-being.

To be directed towards the other
As long as I am alone in a world with ‘things’ only (no other humans), I can do whatever I like. But as soon as the vulnerable but also demanding face of the other appears in front of me, I must reply to that. I can refuse to react, but with that act I still cannot make the original demand from
the other undone. Anyone can be the other who makes this request to me. It can be my neighbour, a good friend, my family, or a complete stranger. But according to Levinas, some people are “the others par excellence”, namely the widow, the orphan and the stranger. Why specifically these groups? Because they are extra vulnerable, with their lack of a partner, parents or a home. And because of that, their command to me becomes stronger, the urgency of the appeal and my obligation to react, and my responsibility for the other, they will become extra big. In an ethical relation between me and the other, my attention should be directed towards the other. With his appeal, the other awakes me from my dreams in my isolated selfish world and that I start to care for the well-being of the other.

In case of a stranger
In case of me as a native person and the other as a stranger, this means that the stranger makes an appeal to me and that I am obliged to respond to that appeal. The central question in this respect is: “What can I do for the stranger?” What does it mean concretely that I am responsible for how I treat him, for his well-being?
To ask these questions, which are focused on the well-being of the stranger, is a completely different approach than to act out of selfishness only. Then the question would be: “What can I do to avoid being bothered by the stranger?”
The main answer to the question: “What can I do for the stranger?”, is: be hospitable, respond to his needs. My house is not only there to offer me protection towards the surroundings, a safe place where I can rest. The fact that I have a house with a
door which I can open to the world, means that I can use it to offer protection and a place to rest to my guests as well. My house offers me a place from which I can be hospitable and show solidarity with the stranger.
This question – what can I do for the stranger – is a totally different question than: “What can I do to keep my house all for myself?” or “What are the conditions that the stranger should fulfill before I would be willing to accept him in my house?” In the second
case, at a national level, it means that strangers first have to learn the local language, to get used to the local habits and standards and values, to adapt/assimilate to the local culture and to behave well, before we are willing to let them in. I don’t mean that it would not be a good thing for a stranger to learn the local language and to adapt to the local culture, I just wanted to say that the second approach from the natives is completely selfish and only defines the obligations of the strangers, not of their own obligations with regard to the reception of strangers.

Directness to the other should be my focus in an ethical relation. The native is responsible for how he treats the stranger. The other way around, the stranger is also responsible for how he treats the native, but that is in the first place his own responsibility, not the responsibility of the native. This doesn’t mean that the native should accept whatever the stranger is doing to him, and that I should open the doors of my house widely to barbarian strangers who break down everything in my house. If my guests turn out to misbehave themselves I am totally entitled to put them out of my house. But my first aim should be to give the stranger – whom I don’t know yet – a warm welcome and hospitable reception. I should not lock away my house to the whole world to avoid the risk of letting unwelcome strangers in.

An asymmetric relation
Another important issue in relation to ethical receptiveness, is the asymmetry in the relation between me and the other. Levinas says that I experience the appeal from the other as coming fr
om high above me, since he turned out to be able to demand from me that I should reply to him, he sends me an order. But at the same time he is “less than me”, because he makes an appeal to me in his need and fragility, and I can give him what he needs, so I have more than him. From a selfish perspective, I am inclined to consider the other, the weak stranger without a home, as less than me. I possess my house, I am powerful, he possesses nothing, he is depending on me. And he is less than me in house because it is my house, with my rules, which he doesn’t know yet, he doesn’t know how he should behave in my house, so I will tell him what I want him to do. I am his master, I can tell him: “If you don’t do as I say I will kick you out of my house.”

According to Levinas, however, it is always the other who is my
master, not the other way around. The other awakes me from my isolated selfish world, he brings something new in my house, something that makes that I start to think again about the old things in my house which I always took for granted, I start to look with new eyes, I can see that there is more than my own small world. And the other makes an appeal to my responsibility for him, I cannot continue with my private business, I have to open up and to respond to what the other asks from me. This waking me up, shaking me, opening up and widening my world, this is something I cannot do all by myself, I need the other for that. That is why the other is my master. The other can show me my responsibility, my obligation as a host to offer hospitality to the stranger. This means that I can not treat him as some dirt on the floor, a stand in the way or an inferior creature. I should treat him as an equal human being, with respect.

Thou shalt not kill
A last remark related to ethical receptiveness and the stranger concerns the absolute ethical principle: “Thou shalt not kill”. Levinas understands this principle in the broadest possible sense, not only in a literal but also in an abstract sense. To ignore the other, to silence him to dea
th, or to reduce him from a human being to an object, an image in my mind, is also deadly. The command expresses in fact a continuous reluctance to use violence towards the other.
According to Levinas it is impossible to kill another human. It is not impossible in a literal sense – it happens often enough – but in an ethical sense it is impossible. It is possible to kill a human being, but only when you no longer look at the other as a human being, as a unique particularity. An abstraction, a reduction from a human to an object is necessary to be able to harm / kill him. In that case, in my perception I don’t kill a unique individual, but I kill an exemplary of a category, a group, a race.

Keij says: “Only through an abstraction, by replacing a concrete person by an abstract category, can I commit violence, can I harm that person, then it becomes a nigger, a dirty Turk, yellow peril, or a homosexual. So violence requires reductionism, it requires the reduction from a unique personality to a subhuman.”

Discrimination and racism
Discrimination and racism are forms of this kind of violence towards the other, in most cases the stranger. The process of reductionism through which the stranger is being dehumanized takes place in the form of prejudices, stereotypes, exaggerations of perceived negative characteristics of a group, generalizations, aggressiveness.

By reducing a person to a group, category, culture or race, I can forget about the real person and replace him by an image that I drew of him in my mind, a picture of a category of ba
rbarian monsters. When I successfully replaced the person by my image of a monster, it has become very easy to use violence against him, because that is what one should do to monsters and demons. To recognize this process provides the key to counteract and prevent racism. The best cure is direct personal contact in a constructive and respectful setting. The stranger should get a chance to wake up the native from his selfish perspective of fear / dislike / hatred towards strangers, which resulted in racism. (In my opinion this is the most common form of racism, but it does exist the other way around as well, that strangers consider natives as inferior or other groups of strangers.) With direct contact I can put away the images I invented of the other and look at the real other who is standing in front of me and who is talking to me. He can explain to me why my image of him doesn’t fit. Only real people matter, not the images in other peoples minds.

Why listen to Levinas?
So according to Levinas, it’s an absolute ethical principle that we should try not to harm the other and that we should care for his well-being. How does he come to this conclusion, how is his principle founded? Why should we do what he says and not just do what is good for our own well-being? In the end this principle cannot really be founded on opinions or reasons. If you keep asking why, in the end there is no answer. Levinas just believes that it is ethically just to be directed to the other. But there is one more thing that can be said about it: if I care only about my own well-being and not about the we
ll-being of the other, it means I am indifferent to what I do to the other, I don’t feel responsible. And that means that the chance is big that sooner or later I will use violence to the other, I will do him harm. It is very difficult to construct an ethical theory in which it doesn’t matter what people do to each other, it is very difficult to build a peaceful happy society based on that principle. So if I want to be an ethical just person, to do good deeds, to be responsible, to listen to my conscience, I think it is inevitable that I should listen to the appeal that the other makes to me.

***

Mysterious stranger cartoon

***

No Matter Where You Go, There You Are
by Luka Bloom


I'll sing to you of a carpenter, a Muslim man
He was forced to join an army, he chose to leave his land
He was born in Northern Africa, with the desert all around
He loved his innocent childhood in the bosom of a desert town
Mohamed left Algeria, his family and his friends
Knowing he would never see his loved ones ever again

You must go, follow your star
No matter where you go, there you are
No matter where you go, there are you
So don't let go of what you know to be true

Mohamed went to Amsterdam, to Paris and to Rome
Nowhere in these cities did Mohamed feel at home
He'd walk the streets into the night, thrown-out wood to find
Making wooden boxes occupied his mind
Little wooden boxes in a line on Mohamed's stand
Bringing food and shelter to a Muslim man

You must go, follow your star
No matter where you go, there you are
No matter where you go, there are you
So don't let go of what you know to be true

One summer's day in Paris, he heard a haunting sound
Of a lonesome Irish fiddle, he let his tools fall down
Looking up he could not see the man, whose music filled this place
But he knew his heart was breaking, and the tears rolled down his face
Mohamed walked until he saw the man, with a fiddle to his chin
He stood and let the music glow, underneath his skin
He felt longing for Algeria, and loving for this song
How the music of a stranger helps the dreamer move along
The carpenter and the fiddler became the best of friends
And Mohamed lives in Galway, where the music never ends

You must go, follow your star
No matter where you go, there you are
No matter where you go, there are you
So don't let go of what you know to be true

By the Claddagh in the evening, you might see this southern man
Selling boxes, toys and fiddles, made with Muslim hand
Don't you feel no pity, nor think he is alone
For the music in his spirit, is his shelter and his home
Mohamed's fire ignited with the ancient jigs and reels
He sometimes chants in Arabic across the Galway fields
His prayers go to Moher, out to the Atlantic sea
And echo to Algeria to the land he had to flee

You must go, follow your star
No matter where you go, there you are
No matter where you go, there are you
So don't let go of what you know to be true

There's a woman in Algeria, she looks across the sand
And hears a loved one's prayer from the distant land...


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