Introduction to this Chapter
The following is an "abridged and annotated version" of a famous
Bertrand
Russell essay. I include it here because it illustrates how a sentient
being
who has wrestled with life’s dilemmas in a commendable way achieves a
measure
of detached compassion for the predicament of existence. When I first
read
this essay I was overwhelmed by a feeling that I could have written it
if
only my writing skills were better.
I salute Bertrand Russell for having written the best essay I've ever
encountered!
It captures my "feelings" about the predicament of being an automaton,
the
product of an evolution about which I have ambivalent feelings, and it
illustrates
the humanistic attitudes that I have for my fellow man. This essay is a
thing
of beauty, it is prose verging on poetry.
To the purist who dislikes abridgements I offer should offer an
apology,
but others have expressed their confusion over what Bertie was trying
to
say. I still encourage the reader to consult the source, which is only
about
twice as long as my abridged version. In the following annotated
abridgement
I will use un-italicized, bold font to indicate what Bertrand Russell
wrote,
while my annotations will be italicized.
Since the time of Greek and Roman philosophers, there have been
attempts
to replace a spirit haunted world view with a mechanistic world view.
Lucretius
believed that not only was the mechanistic view correct, but it also
freed
men from humiliating and unnecessary spirit appeasing rituals.
Primitive
ways of thinking are so entrenched that even today, surrounded by
technology
and scientific insight, most people still believe in spirits, angels,
superstition,
life after death and some version of a god. I believe that humans will
carry
this ancient burden with them into all future centuries that they
somehow
manage to reach.
The Philosophes of the 18th Century Enlightenment viewed the workings
of
Nature as mechanistic. They were reductionists, and removed God from
the
role of dictating everyday events. Whereas some of the Philosophes
believed
God set things in motion and then stepped back to watch his handiwork,
others
(like Holbach) gave Him no role whatsoever thereby denying
God's
existence. In either case, the mechanistic universe viewpoint answered
the
"how" questions (how things work), while in the process denying the
existence
of "why" questions (Dreiser, 1932). The mechanistic universe
perspective
failed to provide guidance on "how one should live" questions. Voltaire
spoke
for many in Candide when he portrayed the world as filled with
misfortunes
due to a universe that doesn't care about humans as well as widespread
evil
that is endemic to human nature.
Nietzsche, in the mid 19th Century, had in mind the "uncaring universe"
and
its implications for "how to live" when he wrote (approximate words):
"When
God is at last dead for Man, when the last gleam of light is
extinguished,
and when he is surrounded by the impenetrable darkness of an uncaring
universe
that exists for no purpose, then at last Man will know that he is alone
and
must create his own values to live by."
Near the end of the 19th Century H. G. Wells wrote The Universe Rigid
(a
manuscript that was lost by his publisher, prompting him to write The
Time
Machine, 1895). He understood more profoundly than even most
contemporary
scientists the implications of their mechanistic universe (i.e., a =
F/m).
The uncaring nature of the universe was an important part of "the
climate
of opinion" at the turn of the Century, when Bertrand Russell wrote "A
Free
Man's Worship" (1903). Russell takes on the challenge of how a Godless
person
might view the "predicament of existence," and even how he might
"worship"
existence.
Russell touches base on all these points, but he does it with such
powerful,
poetic prose, that all other attempts to write what he manages to
convey
are pale in comparison. That is my humble opinion.
Please feel free to skip over my italicized annotations if you grasp
Russell’s
meaning. The continuity of his prose might flow better that way. Since
I
don’t want the other readers to be left out of this greatest of all
essays,
I have inserted my humble interpretations before Russell’s passage. I
hope
that by inserting my prosaic prose ahead of Russell’s poetry your
reading
of him will be more enjoyable.
"A Free Man's Worship"
Bertrand Russell
Published in Independent Review, 1903 (Also reprinted in Mysticism
and
Logic as Chapter 3, W. W. Norton and Company, New York, 1929.)
Abridged and annotated by Bruce L. Gary, 1998.08.27
Science has removed the veil of mystery from the workings of the
universe,
forcing Man to accept a view in which all things are the result of
cold,
uncaring forces. Man must accept that his existence is an unforeseen
accident
of Nature, and our understanding of the blind workings of these same
forces
persuades us that Mankind will eventually perish, along with his proud
achievements.
"... Such ... is the world which Science presents for our belief.
...
That man is the product of causes which had no prevision of the end
they
were achieving; that his origin, his growth, his hopes and fears, his
loves
and his beliefs, are but the outcome of accidental collocations of
atoms;
... all the noonday brightness of human genius are destined to
extinction
in the vast death of the solar system, and that the whole temple of
man's
achievement must inevitably be buried beneath the debris of a universe
in
ruins..."
How ironic that blind forces created a creature that thinks and
aspires
to understand the forces that created it, with an understanding denied
the
creating forces since they are blind. And more, this
creature
has feelings of good and evil, which also are denied the creating
forces.
And this new creature uses these insights and feelings to make
judgments
about the universe that created it.
"A strange mystery it is that Nature, omnipotent but blind, in the
revolutions
of her secular hurryings through the abysses of space, has brought
forth
at last a child, subject still to her power, but gifted with sight,
with
knowledge of good and evil, with the capacity of judging all the works
of
his unthinking Mother."
In spite of being powerless within this mechanistic universe, as
metaphorically
emphasized by the fact that we die after just a few short years of
existence,
this thinking and feeling creature is nevertheless "free." He is free
to
ponder, to understand, to pass judgment, and imagine things that
theoretically
could exist. All these things are denied to the rest of the universe,
to
the forces that bind the sentient individual, and this makes the
sentient
"superior" to the creating and enslaving forces.
"In spite of Death, the mark and seal of the parental control, Man
is
yet free, during his brief years, to examine, to criticize, to know,
and
in imagination to create. To him alone, in the world with which he is
acquainted,
this freedom belongs; and in this lies his superiority to the
resistless
forces that control his outward life."
Even primitive people understand that they are subject to forces
more
powerful than themselves. Those of our ancestors who acknowledged the
power
of stronger men and prostrated themselves in their worship, were more
likely
to be spared, and therefore tended to survive. The powers of Nature
were
dealt with similarly, because of the savages imperfect understanding of
the
differences between Nature and Man; hence, our ancestors prostrated
themselves
before the imagined Gods who represented Natural forces and offered
sacrifices
of valued things as if these would evoke compassion.
"The savage, like ourselves, feels the oppression of his impotence
before
the powers of Nature; but having in himself nothing that he respects
more
than Power, he is willing to prostrate himself before his gods, without
inquiring
whether they are worthy of his worship. Pathetic and very terrible is
the
long history of cruelty and torture, of degradation and human
sacrifice,
endured in the hope of placating the jealous gods: surely, the
trembling
believer thinks, when what is most precious has been freely given,
their
lust for blood must be appeased, and more will not be required."
The savage relates to Nature the way a slave relates to his
master.
A slave dare not complain to his master about the unfair infliction of
pain.
Similarly, the savage dare not complain about the unfairness of his
Gods.
"The religion of Moloch as such creeds may be
generically
called is in essence the cringing submission of the slave,
who
dare not, even in his heart, allow the thought that his master deserves
no
adulation. Since the independence of ideals is not yet acknowledged,
Power
may be freely worshipped, and receive an unlimited respect, despite its
wanton
infliction of pain."
The thinking person bravely acknowledges the imperfectness of the
world.
Unlike the savage, for whom survival is paramount and which constrains
his
thinking, we thinking people refuse to surrender our wish for the world
to
be better. We boldly worship "truth" and "beauty" and other concepts
which
are luxuries for the savage. The savage is enslaved by his excessive
concern
with the Powers of Nature, which for him are too complex to challenge.
We
have become "free" by refusing to worship fear driven Power, like a
slave
worships his master, and to worship instead an imagined world of
goodness,
fairness and perfection. Even when the world does not bring forth
goodness
in our lives, we can at least imagine it, and seek solace from the
imagined
state. Although we know that we are mortal, we can at least imagine
immortality,
and be comforted by the thought. No matter how buffeted our lives may
be
by uncaring natural forces, we can still imagine a tranquil state, and
use
it's vision to survive the real world with equanimity (cf. Ch. 19).
"... Let us admit that, in the world we know, there are many
things
that would be better otherwise, and that the ideals to which we do and
must
adhere are not realized in the realm of matter. Let us preserve our
respect
for truth, for beauty, for the ideal of perfection which life does not
permit
us to attain, though none of these things meet with the approval of the
unconscious
universe. If Power is bad, as it seems to be, let us reject it from our
hearts.
In this lies Man's true freedom: in determination to worship only the
God
created by our own love of the good, to respect only the heaven which
inspires
the insight of our best moments. In action, in desire, we must submit
perpetually
to the tyranny of outside forces; but in thought, in aspiration, we are
free,
free from our fellowmen, free from the petty planet on which our bodies
impotently
crawl, free even, while we live, from the tyranny of death. Let us
learn,
then, that energy of faith which enables us to live constantly in the
vision
of the good; and let us descend, in action, into the world of fact,
with
that vision always before us."
Part of growing up is surrendering the Mother Love that bathed our
self
centered baby years. Our wishes cannot always be met by crying, as they
once
were. The adult must abandon childhood dreams when Fate denies them,
and
we must emotionally accept that this is normal. This acceptance of
limitations
is a precondition for further growth.
"... To every man comes, sooner or later, the great renunciation.
For
the young, there is nothing unattainable; a good thing desired with the
whole
force of a passionate will, and yet impossible, is to them not
credible.
Yet, by death, by illness, by poverty, or by the voice of duty, we must
learn,
each one of us, that the world was not made for us, and that, however
beautiful
may be the things we crave, Fate may nevertheless forbid them. It is
the
part of courage, when misfortune comes, to bear without repining the
ruin
of our hopes, to turn away our thoughts from vain regrets. This degree
of
submission to Power is not only just and right: it is the very gate of
wisdom."
After learning that the outer world was not created for our
benefit,
but that we are mere unintended products of its blind forces, it
becomes
easier to accept the limitations of living within it. We can forgive it
for
whatever unintended calamities occur, for the Universe does not seek
out
its victims. It is unconscious, and uncaring, so there is no point in
worshiping
it for the purpose of avoiding its anger. This frees us to begin to see
beauty
within it. Because it is powerful it deserves our respect, but because
it
does not take notice of us we are free to think about it any way that
we
want. That which once scared us becomes beautiful, and worthy of our
worship.
But this is a new worship, for instead of being driven by fear and the
need
to propitiate, we are driven by the idealization of beauty, by
aesthetics.
This is a sort of triumph of the human mind over a once intimidating
universe.
"... When, without the bitterness of impotent rebellion we have
learnt
both to resign ourselves to the outward rule of Fate and to recognize
that
the non human world is unworthy of our worship, it becomes possible at
last
so to transform and refashion the unconscious universe, so to transmute
it
in the crucible of imagination, that a new image of shining gold
replaces
the old idol of clay. In all the multiform facets of the
world
in the visual shapes of trees and mountains and clouds, in the events
of
the life of man, even in the very omnipotence of Death the
insight
of creative idealism can find the reflection of a beauty which its own
thoughts
first made. In this way mind asserts its subtle mastery over the
thoughtless
forces of Nature."
Death represents another challenge to the person who has shaken
off
the shackles of savage thinking. There is no denying that it is
inevitable
and irrevocable. The vastness of the unlived future, matched by the
vastness
of the unlived past, would seem to diminish the significance of the
short
span we do live. How ironic that during our brief span there should be
so
much travail and pain. Seeing that much of this sorrow is produced by
petty
strivings, we are less eager to pursue the endless and trivial
struggles
that once constituted our everyday life. Ever more freed from
conventional
shackles, and more aloof, it is easier to comprehend the poignancy of
the
human predicament: we are all subject to the same brief existence,
surrounded
by an immense and uncaring universe, we invent meaning and work
together
to achieve imagined goals, but most of these goals are transitory and
petty,
so in effect we squander our short tenure. And finally, we die alone,
carrying
the burden of knowledge that our struggles were for imagined causes,
and
that our final defeat is a passage into an uncaring, inanimate
oblivion.
However, with our contemporaries we share the realization of the
aloneness
of Death, and this recognition can bond us. Out of this shared dilemma
can
arise a new empathy for our fellow Man.
"... In the spectacle of Death, in the endurance of intolerable
pain,
and in the irrevocableness of a vanished past, there is a sacredness,
an
over powering awe, a feeling of the vastness, the depth, the
inexhaustible
mystery of existence, in which, as by some strange marriage of pain,
the
sufferer is bound to the world by bonds of sorrow. In these moments of
insight,
we lose all eagerness of temporary desire, all struggling and striving
for
petty ends, all care for the little trivial things that, to a
superficial
view, make up the common life of day by day; we see, surrounding the
narrow
raft illumined by the flickering light of human comradeship, the dark
ocean
on whose rolling waves we toss for a brief hour; from the great night
without,
a chill blast breaks in upon our refuge; all the loneliness of humanity
amid
hostile forces is concentrated upon the individual soul, which must
struggle
alone, with what of courage it can command, against the whole weight of
a
universe that cares nothing for its hopes and fears. Victory, in this
struggle
with the powers of darkness, is the true baptism into the glorious
company
of heroes, the true initiation into the overmastering beauty of human
existence.
From that awful encounter of the soul with the outer world,
enunciation,
wisdom and charity are born; and with their birth a new life begins."
Whereas the savage continues to view the inanimate world as
animate,
and therefore worships false gods (in the manner of a slave), and
whereas
the savage continues to be driven by petty strivings with transitory
rewards
of personal happiness, thereby squandering a finite life, and whereas
the
savage refuses to accept the inevitable victory of an uncaring universe
over
his petty struggles, and therefore invents pitiful palliative realities
promising
everlasting heavenly happiness, the thoughtful man is free of all these
false
worshippings, false strivings, and false hopes. This emancipating
perspective
opens the way to the free man's worship.
"... The life of Man, viewed outwardly, is but a small thing in
comparison
with the forces of Nature. The slave is doomed to worship Time and Fate
and
Death, because they are greater than anything he finds in himself, and
because
all his thoughts are of things which they devour. But, great as they
are,
to think of them greatly, to feel their passionless splendor, is
greater
still. And such thought makes us free men; we no longer bow before the
inevitable
in Oriental subjection, but we absorb it, and make it a part of
ourselves.
To abandon the struggle for private happiness, to expel all eagerness
of
temporary desire, to burn with passion for eternal things
this
is emancipation, and this is the free man's worship."
Thoughtful men, who have freed themselves from the savage's slave
worship
mentality, are bound together by an acknowledgement of their shared
fate.
Each of us faces the existential dilemma, each confronts an uncaring
physical
universe and an evil animate one, each of us endures this for a brief
time,
and each of us will die alone. To the extent that I understand my
individual
fate, I also understand the fate of my fellow man. Our shared doom
creates
a feeling of fellowship. Together we march through the treacherous
fields
of life, and one by one we fall down to die. We are fellow sufferers,
and
it feels right to reach out with a helpful hand to those who we shall
later
become. We may see their shortcomings, and know that we have ours; and
remembering
their burden of sorrows, we forgive.
"... United with his fellow men by the strongest of all ties, the
tie
of a common doom, the free man finds that a new vision is with him
always,
shedding over every daily task the light of love. The life of Man is a
long
march through the night, surrounded by invisible foes, tortured by
weariness
and pain, towards a goal that few can hope to reach, and where none may
tarry
long. One by one, as they march, our comrades vanish from our sight,
seized
by the silent orders of omnipotent Death. Very brief is the time in
which
we can help them, in which their happiness or misery is decided. Be it
ours
to shed sunshine on their path, to lighten their sorrows by the balm of
sympathy,
to give them the pure joy of a never tiring affection, to strengthen
failing
courage, to instill faith in hours of despair. Let us not weigh in
grudging
scales their merits and demerits, but let us think only of their
need
of the sorrows, the difficulties, perhaps the blindnesses, that make
the
misery of their lives; let us remember that they are fellow sufferers
in
the same darkness, actors in the same tragedy with ourselves. And so,
when
their day is over, when their good and their evil have become eternal
by
the immortality of the past, be it ours to feel that, where they
suffered,
where they failed, no deed of ours was the cause; but wherever a spark
of
the divine fire kindled in their hearts, we were ready with
encouragement,
with sympathy, with brave words in which high courage glowed."
Let our little day in the immense scheme of things be free of
unnecessary
pain, and be filled with gratitude. Let us worship, during our few
precious
moments, at our self built shrine dedicated to aesthetic beauty. If we
cherish
these few good things during our journey, then we will be less buffeted
by
the uncaring universe that unknowingly created us. This is the only
worship
worthy of free men.
"Brief and powerless is Man's life; on him and all his race the
slow,
sure doom falls pitiless and dark. Blind to good and evil, reckless of
destruction,
omnipotent matter rolls on its relentless way; for Man, condemned today
to
lose his dearest, tomorrow himself to pass through the gate of
darkness,
it remains only to cherish, ere yet the blow falls, the lofty thoughts
that
ennoble his little day; disdaining the coward terrors of the slave of
Fate,
to worship at the shrine that his own hands have built; undismayed by
the
empire of chance, to preserve a mind free from the wanton tyranny that
rules
his outward life; proudly defiant of the irresistible forces that
tolerate,
for a moment, his knowledge and his condemnation, to sustain alone, a
weary
but unyielding Atlas, the world that his own ideals have fashioned
despite
the trampling march of unconscious power."