Provocation: Beauty and Niceness in an Accidental World
Do we need God to talk about morality?
Dear Readers:
Before you are the first results of a new experiment: The Provocation. Once a month, subscribers may pester, goad, torment one of our writers. We’ll send out a notice (like this one) designating the given individual, and then it’s a free-for-all in the comments. Post your provocation — a bothersome prompt, 75 words or less — and the designated individual might choose it and write an essay in response.
This month, it is Damir’s turn to suffer. Damir received quite a few questions about his tongue-in-cheek “nihilism.” Below, he tries to explain himself, and a few other things besides.
We hope you enjoy.
Santiago Ramos, Executive Editor
Damir:
In an ideal world, I would answer one discrete question that has emerged from the Crowd. But in this first go-around, it seemed like many of the questions centered on my supposed nihilism. So let me take a few questions in series.
Twitter’s Audrey Horne asked: “Why are you so nice and sweet even though you claim to be a grumpy nihilist? Why be nice and sweet at all?”
I don’t know that I would describe myself as grumpy or a nihilist. I do worry that I’m a crank at times — I try to check myself for that as I write. And nihilism also doesn’t feel like quite the right description. I think “skepticism” is closer to the mark?
But those are just words. The more interesting question is: “why be nice?” Is one nice because there is meaning in the world, or because it’s nice to be nice? To put it another way, do we need the world to have external meaning in order to be nice? Is being grumpy (or cranky) an expression of being unhappy with the world? Or, rather, is it possible to exist more or less in the present, acting and reacting, being pleased and displeased, and not think too much about the bigger frame?
Believers often wonder how it’s possible to structure one’s life without a belief in an overarching framework of justice and meaning. I think people nowadays talk of a “god-shaped hole” within them that can only be filled by faith — apparently a reference to a passage in Pascal. My answer is that I very rarely think about this at all (unless prompted to do so). I’m just not religious, in the sense that I am not drawn to it. It’s also why I’m not drawn to the idea of atheism, or even agnosticism. Calling myself either of those things would imply that this question of religion and meaning preoccupies me. It … just doesn’t.
This leads me to the next question. Charlie Taben, referring to an essay I wrote about the sublime, asks “Can you have [a sense of] wonder in an accidental world?”
It’s an excellent question. The ready answer is, I suppose, “yes” — based simply on my own experience. I have felt wonder without feeling compelled to ask the bigger questions of ultimate meaning.
But what do we make of that?
I’ve written about the sublime at least two other times here on this site. The first time, writing about a Martin McDonagh film, I wrote this:
The sublime experience, then, is not that the film is pessimistic, but that it succeeds in convincingly conjuring up forces far bigger than any individual, than any character. Like I said, it’s the feeling of the scale of it all.
There is a mountain pass in the Eastern Alps called Stelvio. It’s one of the most astonishing places I’ve ever been. Here’s a photo of the hairpin turns that descend from the highest point. And here’s a photo I took of myself while standing at the highest point, looking down.
The photos don’t do the place justice. You’re not exactly at the edge of a cliff —it’s steep, but not vertical. Nevertheless, you feel like you’re about to fall off, to get pulled in and pulled down. It’s more like a sense of vertigo at the vastness of it all. It’s a feeling that conjures up an appreciation of nature, and maybe the enormity of the world contrasted to the relative insignificance of the self.
So back to Charlie’s question: Maybe for the faithful — for those with a god-shaped hole — these feelings prompt reflections on bigger questions. Maybe it’s a question of temperament?
Finally, S.A. asks: “What are your values rooted in? Do you think we ought to believe in external sources of value?”
I’d ask a question back: do we need values to be rooted in something? Can’t character and personality just be — a product of biological/psychological temperament (accidents of birth) and environment (upbringing and experience)?
No, I don’t think we ought to believe in external sources of value. But I also don’t think there’s anything wrong with doing so either. I’m wholly ambivalent.
I’m often struck by how strong a role incentives seem to play in people’s moral outlook. If there’s no god and no punishment (or reward), why be good at all?
This reminds me of an exchange I had recently with
. We were joking about the SCOTUS presidential immunity ruling in a roundabout way. Justice Sotomayor, in her dissent, famously invoked the specter of future presidents not being subject to prosecution for, say, calling in Seal Team Six to dispatch political rivals.As we were bantering, it dawned on me that “if your president is using Seal Team Six to order hits, you've got bigger problems than ‘immunity’.” That is to say, deterring this kind of behavior by the threat of legal prosecution is patently absurd. If you’ve gotten to the point of granting the presidency to someone without compunctions, all is already lost.
People either have a compass or they don’t. They’re pro-social or they’re sociopaths. How they become one or the other is a complex question. But I don’t think you need transcendence to answer it.
Wisdom of Crowds is a platform challenging premises and understanding first principles on politics and culture. Join us!
Thanks for these reflections, Damir. I’d like to add two points that came to mind as I read it. First, with respect to the idea of awe and religion/goodness (inspired by your visit to the mountain), there’s a good deal of research showing that the experience of awe makes people both more open to the idea of a greater power and more prosocial. Those experiencing awe slightly shift their beliefs toward the idea that God or some other greater power / causal entity exists. It’s not a road to Damascus conversion, but a subtle shift toward believing in some sort of intentionality/no randomness in the world. In the right context and with right cues, that can be a way into spirituality. But awe also makes people feel more connected and compassionate. So it kind of does the work of religion for it.
Which brings me to the second comment. We know from basic research that many elements of religious practice can enhance virtue/goodness while people do them. For example, gratitude increases honesty and generosity. Synchronized action increases compassion. Etc. All of these parts of religious practices. So religion can nudge goodness even outside of belief.
sorry damir i dont actually think you’re either grumpy or a nihilist but it’s called provocations