The "Becoming" of Man

This morning, one of my professors recounted the unfolding of a massive, three part civil war in Congo-Brazzaville that spanned most of the 1990s. He ended his description by stating that the situation had essentially been doomed from the beginning, that "rational actors could have acted in no other way."

In a sense, the message echoed the theme preached to elementary and high schools throughout the Cold War: inevitably, because of who man is, he will destroy himself.

In a slightly different context, this idea and its powerful implications came up at a recent conference on Machiavelli's Thought. In his Discourses on Livy, Machiavelli attacks Christian humility as the cause of massive political abuse. Taught by Christian doctrine to turn the other cheek and wait for heaven, he believed that the peoples of Christendom were giving an open invitation to repressive, weak statesmanship. Mid-way through a discussion on this topic, a professor observed that by removing Christian humility, Machiavelli also removed the possibility of being more than human. To avoid the cost of this heavenly perspective (whether rightly or wrongly perceived by the church at this time) Machiavelli chose to reject the spiritual realm entirely for what he saw to be the good of actual, tangible reality. However, as the professor rightly perceived, under the right circumstances, the rational nature of man might very well lead to the abolishment of man.

Josef Pieper, in his essay on Hope, writes about what it means when we describe humans as pilgrims. He explains that this is more than a convenient metaphor, it is a metaphysical truth. To be human is to literally be "on the way." Though we may seek after the good, we do not yet possess it--to fully know the good would mean we were like angels, or even God himself. God is a "being" in the fullest sense, but man is perpetually in the state of "becoming." The implications of this, if we follow Pieper's logic, is that to talk about man in terms of only man himself isn't to talk about man at all! If man is in the process of becoming something more than himself (or, as is also possible, less than himself) he can only be properly understood in terms of the spiritual ends which he is pursuing.

Democracy and Moral Obligation: Is the West above Self-Interest?

Consistently, international relations literature will refer to the "incompetence" of the West's response to crisis situations around the world. Gerard Prunier, in an overwhelmingly masterful study of the 1990s Congolese war, refers to the UN's "toothlessness" and the international community's "stilted humanitarian style" which he attributes to outdated cognitive frameworks, a lack of interest, and a low pain threshold on the part of Western states. He goes so far as to describe the West's typical plight as being "caught between a Shakespearean tragedy and a hiccuping computer."

By contrast, Prunier describes the African elites themselves, who are the actual physical catalysts in the conflict, as being perfectly competent. Little engines of rational theories of gain maximization, they use the ignorance of the West as part of their "basic tactical kit."

Now, Prunier is also quick to denounce the actions of many of these elites as monstrous, hideous blights on humanity. There is no nostalgic paternalistic panache for the innocence of all Africans present in the work. What is worthy of note, however, is the inference behind this highly rational choice scholar's work: while it is not incompetent for African leaders and states to act self-interestedly and with little to no regard for human life within their own borders, something in this equation changes when we turn to the West.

As democratic states and defenders of self-evident truth, somehow the rational choice model only partially applies to the West. There is an assumtion that the West ought to be above the kind of self-interest that is expected elsewhere, and when it fails to fulfill that role, even the most rational amongst us assume that this isn't just the way all states naturally operate, but that actual incompetence has crept in to separate us from what ought to be our natural goal. For example, Al-Bashir's recent hoop-la in Sudan is despicable but expected, while a misdemeanor on the part of a UN Secretary General is despicable and unexpected.

Odd, isn't it, that we have a framework through which we can account for why people act the way they do, but which can't tell us why we always want, even expect, them to act better? And especially why, in a world where we are told that humanity is set apart by its rational powers, at the end of the day we find gross calculations of our own self-interest so dehumanizing?

Work and Utility…

There is another worthwhile distinction to be made when we consider the “utility” of our efforts: even very rough and mediocre work is important as a step toward later development—we simply cannot produce our ideal without practice. This is a straight foward proposition, but one that we consistently forget as we battle perfectionism, a world in which so many of our desires are attained instantly, and a society obsessed with its productive capacity (in academia, why is publishing itself always more important than what we publish?).

One of my art professors would consistently tell us to expect “the ugly stage” that every work must experience, as well as "the ugly phases" that individual artists experience. He said that the greatest obstacle toward developing as an artist was to give up at this stage instead of understanding that it is a necessary part of the process. We had to learn to patiently keep working on projects which were not immediately fulfilling our ideal instead of tearing them up and walking away for good.

It's dangerous and delusional to disassociate all of the beginning stages of learning from the finished product. The modern world loves production and symbols of achievement, but often makes the grave mistake of disassociating these objects from their creators. We love someone (an author or film star) not for themselves, but for what they have produced. Similarly, we tend to think of how we can obtain similar trappings of success before thinking of who we want to become. This is the even more fundamental danger than that of divorcing work from the ends of an art, to divorce our work from our person hood, from all of the other facets of our lives. It shows how deeply Machiavellian we have become when we value effects so highly and care so little about how or why they came about. Materialism and individualism collide to form a painfully misconstrued picture of reality.

As a perfect example of this divide, I once heard Walter Hooper (CS Lewis’ secretary) recount a conversation he had with a lady visitor to the Kilns after Lewis’ death. After talking about the many difficult people which Lewis supported throughout his life through funds and friendship, the lady remarked something to the effect that “It was too bad Lewis’ time was wasted on these difficult relationships, or else he could have written more books.” Hooper asked the woman in reply, “But what books could he have written? Certainly not the Four Loves.”

Who we are, in all of our many roles and interactions, effects the quality and purpose of everything we do.

So What’s the Use?

The word "blog" has a flat, amorphous quality to it, and its connotations, in my own mind at any rate, fare just as poorly. There is a hint of narcissism in its atmosphere and a triumphant celebration of the equal validity of all opinions that can render the term noxious to the lungs and painful to the ears. But, even though blogs can be stages for the endless gratification of the self -- for rants, rumors, and vanity--like all other mediums for thought, they do not have to. Roses and weeds both grow in the same soil. And so it is with virtue and vice in the human soul.

Beneath this shallow, surface level dislike of blogs lurked a more alarming discovery that had to be overcome: my distrust and dislike for blogs was rooted in utilitarianism! What was the use of a piece of writing that is too immature to be published? Does the world really need one more essay on what a graduate student thinks about something? Soon we begin asking other questions, like why draw if our work will never earn a place in the Louvre? Or if our pieces never even leave our sketchbook? Why learn music, dance, take philosophy classes, or do anything that will neither bring about tangible benefits or bring us great fame? Why cook a feast when top ramen does the job? This line of reasoning can suck all the pleasure out of our pursuits, and it is why we envy children’s joy in their talentless finger painting, and despise or humor adults (thinking them childish) who indulge in joy over their own talentless creation.

To add a little personal drama to this thought piece, let's consider the situation of a young friend of mine, Joey. Joey is moody, rakishly good looking, and has a Kerouac edge to him. Not surprisingly, Joey wants to write fiction. However, every time he walks into a bookstore (or worse, hops on Amazon) he feels overwhelmed by the vast amount of fiction already available. His dashing streak is humbled. Does the world need one more book? Or is it kind of horrible in a way to contribute to the vast glut? Maybe if you were a genius and had Dickens dusted by age twelve there might be an exception, but what hope is there for the rest of us?

Joseph Pieper, in a pithy little essay entitled "Learning to See Again," addresses this very paranoia. The act of writing, the process of putting pencil to paper and drawing--however crudely--works to develop our understanding of the world, it fosters within us the ability to see! In other words, "seeing" does not simply occur; it is something that we must be trained in. As we seek these things simply for their utility--for fame or success--or quit seeking them because they are not "useful enough," our ability to see the world actually diminishes. Thus, all of these joyful, but seemingly "useless" acts actually achieve something far greater than fame, success, or loads of cash--they are good for their own sake!

More thoughts on this to come...