Austin Hall Library

A Closed Chapter in Life

For those who have been visiting the Austin Hall Library blog for some time, you may recall that I returned last summer to a favorite Montana cabin for some reading and reflection. Here is the post mentioning the trip. If you weren't around then, you can follow the whole trip by reading each day's posts for a week or so after the initial post.

The wonderful cabin that has been such a retreat for a number of years is pictured at left. Here it is now (View this photo)--the result of a much feared Montana lightning fire that swept rapidly over the hills.

A Culture of Life Film

If you are concerned about the dignity of human persons and interested in promoting a culture of life, this is a film you will want to see.

Winner of the People's Choice Award at the Toronto Film Festival, Bella opens at select theaters around the country on the weekend of October 26, 2007 (this weekend). See it if it opens in your area, and encourage others to see it.

One of the executive producers is Steve McEveety (executive producer of Braveheart and producer of The Passion of the Christ, among numerous other films), and the powerful film is about family, principle, sacrifice, human dignity, and conversion. It is the all too rare thinking person's film. All that and romance too.

"You Need a PhD to be This Stupid"

The title of this post are the words of an Amazon reviewer of Professor David Benatar's recent Oxford Press book Better Never to Have Been: The Harm of Coming Into Existence. Benatar is a South African academic who embraces utilitarianism in its most consistent form, and he is not afraid to take it to its logical conclusion--nihilism.

Professor Benatar is a clear writer and, while it is very hard not to recoil at his central thesis--that life is so dreadful we humans would all be better off if we never existed--his conclusion seems to flow logically from his philosophical perspective. As a utilitarian, Benatar assesses the benefits of existence by balancing benefits against harms. And, for such a consistent utilitarian, the pleasure in a person's life although good, would not be missed if the person never existed. Thus, it makes sense that in a life where existence always brings unpleasantness (which is undeniable), and never existing brings no unpleasantness (which is undeniable), coming into existence is always bad.

It is not the consistency of Professor Benatar's logic that I find troubling. It is the fundamental presupposition of utilitarianism that good is to be measured by a soulless balancing of benefits against harms. It appears to me that such a view is not wrong because it cannot be logically or consistently done, but because the mechanical balancing test is not in agreement with reality. One doesn't have to have a PhD to know that certain things in life, though accompanied by a degree of pain or unpleasantness, amply compensate for such pain by love, joy, a deep sense of fulfillment, and other such intangibles.

One can, as Benatar does, go about calculating the good by a cold balancing of benefits against harms. But, the degree to which one does so is the degree to which that person has lost touch with some part of what it means to be human. A philosophical system that concludes, consistent or not, that we should cease to have children, that women have a moral obligation to have abortions, and that we should prefer death to life is manifestly false and destructive because it is not in agreement with what is.

But, Professor Benatar is not stupid. On a certain level, I must confess a certain appreciation of his views. Without an understanding of the union of suffering and joy in suffering found only in the Christ of history, Benatar’s philosophy makes perfect sense. If the incarnation and passion of Christ were not true, even our own children would become an immeasurable burden instead of a source of incalculable joy. The benefits of existence can never be fully understood and calculated unless our existence finds its ultimate fulfillment in something that transcends ourselves.    

Tractors, Art, and the Immaterial Self

The Southern Agrarian in me has been thinking of purchasing a tractor for several weeks. I have finally decided that the desire for such a purchase likely evolves from my immaterial self--the soul. Justified by the realization that my desire for a tractor comes from the part of me made up of wishes and hopes, things transcended, of imaginations, creative aspirations, and value ascriptions, I seem to have reached the point where owning a tractor makes very good sense.

I actually arrived at this somewhat tenuous conclusion over the weekend while thinking about art. In my reading I was reminded that even the most primitive people seem to have had the urge to express themselves creatively, or to depict themselves in some fashion. Man raises himself out of his surface primitiveness and poverty first through immaterial projections of how things can be if he fulfills his inner hunger and sense of wonderment by making something good, true, or beautiful out of disorder. And, it seems that the more man is daunted by the heartbreak or tragedy of his lot, the more he dramatizes his relation to the world (e.g., the Greeks, the Elizabethans, the music and art of African slaves in 19th century America). All this can't be accounted for in the reductionist formula of materialism.

And so, I am going to make some immaterial projections, get a tractor, move some dirt, and see if I can't create some culture on a small piece of material property prone to disorder. And I might get a dog if I can think of how that fits in all of this.

Intellectual Knowledge and Materialism

Recently reading Silvano Borruso and St. Thomas Aquinas (I am always reading Aquinas) has prompted me to reflect on the nature of intellectual knowledge.

While it may be true that materialism as a philosophy is not as popular as it once was, it seems that materialism is by far the dominant presupposition I encounter among people today. Perhaps few would be able to explain it in philosophical terms, but more and more people seem to regard matter as the only reality in the world. Or, at least they live and think as if matter is the only reality.

Simply stated, materialism seeks to explain everything that occurs in the universe as resulting from the conditions and activity of matter. Consequently, it denies the existence of God and the soul. But, it seems to me that to be consistent it must deny as well any intellectual knowledge at all.

Strictly speaking, that which acts and exists without involving anything material, and thus without any organ, is immaterial--like thought, or intellectual knowledge. The brain is a material organ, but thought most definitely witnesses to something immaterial. In fact, it may be said that the human mind can think of notions that are realizable just as well without, as with, matter--for example, the true, the beautiful, the good. Moreover, the human mind can even think of realities existing entirely independently of all matter--like God, an angel, a soul.

While a growing number of common people today seem to presuppose a practical materialism, it is a presupposition subject to correction. Moreover, for those intentionally wed to a philosophical or scientific materialism, it should be pointed out that such a view is irrational. People may hold such a view, but they cannot do so as the result of rational thought. For thought and intellectual knowledge itself is evidence of immateriality and, thus, a direct denial of materialism.

By the way, the photo in this post above is one I took a couple of weeks ago of the original painting housed in the Vatican Museum. Known as "The School of Athens," it is one of the most famous paintings by the Italian Renaissance artist Raphael. Enlarge the photo and you will see that the painting shows the greatest philosophers, scientists, and mathematicians of classical antiquity. Plato and Aristotle, considered the greatest Greek philosophers, are standing in the center of the painting on top of the steps. Plato is holding his Timaeus and Aristotle is carrying a copy of his Nichomachean Ethics. Their gestures correspond to their philosophical interests--Plato pointing upward toward the heavens, and Aristotle gesturing down toward the earth. Diogenes is lying casually on the steps before them to show his philosophical attitude: he despised all material wealth and the lifestyle associated with it. To the left, the man leaning on the block is Heraclitus, meant to be Michaelangelo. This figure was an afterthought. It was not in the original drawing. Raphael snuck into the Sistine Chapel to view Michelangelo’s work on the ceiling by candle light. He was so awed by the unfinished work that he added Michelangelo after the manner of his depiction of the Prophet Jeremiah, to show his respect for the artist.

The "School of Athens" is displayed next to the entrance of the magnificent Sistine Chapel, the walls and ceiling of which are adorned with the most marvelous artistic works known to man. Each time I have been in that room I have been powerfully moved almost to tears at the reality of the immaterial. While I view a composition of material colors on a material wall, it is the immaterial beautiful and the immaterial true that touches my immaterial soul.

 

The Quotable Borruso

A few memorable quotes from Silvano Borruso's A History of Philosophy for (Almost) Everyone:

"Truth has never claimed to offer happiness. Very often it offers discomfort at best, persecution and even death at the worst. The one thing it offers-and delivers-is interior freedom."

"Willingness to do anything about error depends, of course, on the ability to see it . . . But the ability to see truth or to spot error largely depends on personal integrity."

"Truth is the agreement of the mind with what is." (Although not a direct quote, Borruso draws here from St. Thomas Aquinas, who in turn got the definition from Ibn Sina, a Muslim philosopher. The truth of the definition, however, belongs neither to St. Thomas nor Ibn Sina; it belongs to philosophy).

By the way, I took the picture in this post from the vantage point of the Ponte Garibaldi, over the Tiber River in the Trastevere District of Rome--looking back toward the Vatican City and St. Peter's Basilica (enlarge the picture for a beautiful view). And, speaking of the bridges of Rome, here is a view of the Ponte Sant'Angelo (View this photo), and note the close up (View this photo). The construction of this bridge dates back to 126 B.C. and was ordered by Roman Emperor Hadrian, so that he could gain access to the Mausoleum that he had built and in which he was eventually buried. Originally called Elio, the bridge was later known as Ponte Sant'Angelo (the Mausoleum eventually changed its name to Castel Sant'Angelo and went from imperial tomb to papal fortress). In the year 600 A.D. Pope Gregory I is said to have seen a vision of an angel sheathing his sword. This was interpreted to mean that God's wrath, caused by man's wickedness, had abated, and with it the pestilence that had recently killed so many people. One hundred thirty-five meters long, the masonry bridge has five arches, the two lateral ones partially underground. At the bridge end opposite Castel Sant'Angelo (the second photo above), there are statues of angels symbolizing Christ's passion. Gian Lorenzo Bernini, the preeminent Baroque sculptor, received the commission for the angels and personally finished two of them.

Silvano Borruso--A Fascinating Thinker

While perusing philosophy stacks in the bookstores of Rome, I ran across the writings of a little known educator by the name of Silvano Borruso. Virtually unknown in the United States, Borruso began his teaching career in 1957 and lived and taught in Kenya from 1960 until 2006, when he retired from Strathmore School, a private day school in Kenya. A brief interview on his retirement may be read here .

Although on paper (apparently a single degree in Agricultural Science) Borruso does not appear particularly learned, he is a brilliant student of the history of philosophy and the development of ideas, as well as a master of the Classics. He has one of the newest translations out of The Confessions of St. Augustine, and his brand new translation of St. Augustine's De Ordine (On Order) is now available at Amazon Books.

But, it is Borruso's delightful A History of Philosophy for (Almost) Everyone that I stumbled first upon in Rome, and was not able to put down. So interested in the content, and his clear and readable style, I spent the next few afternoons on the portico of my residence in Rome reading that book. Borruso is a rare original thinker and his brief and even-handed analysis of Scholasticism and its importance is particularly excellent. I also recommend his book The Art of Thinking.

Unfortunately, Borruso's books are quite difficult to find in English. After some time, I was able to find only one place on the Internet where his books can be purchased in English (other than the one book on Amazon). It is here. The good news is that the cost is one-third of that I paid in Rome.

Read this great little article by Borruso on the study of Latin. In fact, if you are interested in the intellectual life, read whatever you can find by Borruso.

A Few Bookstores in Rome

This was my favorite bookstore (Dehoniana Books) in the area near Vatican City, only steps away from St. Peter's Square. Unfortunately, all its excellent titles are in Italian (View this photo).

For the best titles on the religious history of Rome, as well as the most informative guides to the religious sites, the John Paul II International Bookshop (View this photo) is the place to go. As the name suggests, there are English titles available (View this photo). The bookstore is in St. Peter's Square.

The store on the right (literally, "Library of Cross"), in central Rome, is an interesting place--lots of titles and a huge philosophy section (View this photo) . Most of the books were in Italian, but there were other languages as well. What I found most encouraging about Libreria Croce was the fact that it seems to have solved the problem for the dimwitted among us (View this photo). Actually, my questions led to the knowledge that these books are those written by authors who are less well known and who tend to write simple and easily readable prose.   

Important Buildings in Rome

This is the entrance to what turned out to be one of my favorite public buildings in Rome. It was a wonderful trip and there were certainly more historic, holy, and majestic buildings in Rome, but there was just something special about this place. Located in the thriving city center, here (View this photo) is a view of the inside.

The atmosphere (during the day) was conducive to thinking big thoughts, so I did (View this photo). And, it was the only place I found in Rome where televised American football games and scores were readily available.

Back in the States From Rome

This is a last evening view of St. Peter's Basilica before returning to the United States from Rome. Our residence for ten days was seventy meters to the left of this picture, just outside the Vatican City walls. Here is a night view of the top of St. Peter's from our room (View this photo).  And, here is a view of central Rome from the cupola on top of St. Peter's Basilica (View this photo), which was five-hundred, twenty challenging steps from ground level.

Across the street from our residence was this building (View this photo), which houses the Missionaries of Charity, a religious order founded by Mother Teresa. The deeply devout sisters care for the "poorest of the poor" in Rome and all over the world.