Youthful optimism & the eradication of order as defensive boundary maker. Maybe?

It is very rare for a statement, however general, to apply to all humanity. Any attempt to do so is usually met with harsh criticism, a quick rebuttal or an irrefutable objection. Despite the vast difficulties, philosophers have struggled for centuries to discern those undeniable truths applicable to all. Many intellectuals have proposed a universal truth of love, of justice, of beauty, but are quickly confronted with the subjectivity of their claims. Consequently, philosophy has acquired an air of whimsical futility from critics of this relativism. An inarguable truth, however, is often ignored; that is the truth of classification, or the inherent desire of humanity to classify.

Human beings are, by nature, social creatures. They are born into and shaped by communities dependent upon communication. As John Durham Peters describes in Speaking into the Air: A History of the Idea of Communication, “To understand communication is to understand much more. An apparent answer to the painful divisions between self and other, private and public, and inner thought and outer word... it is a sink into which most of our hopes and fears seem to be poured.” (1) Peters argues understanding communication provides us a unique window into which humanity may be examined. If one’s “hopes and fears” are understood, a person’s unique perspective is discernible. The way one processes information and classifies objects becomes apparent through their communication, which Peters contends is the fundamental avenue to understand human beings. Communication also provides a valuable means to understand our collective longing for structure and order. What happens, though, when these self-imposed boundaries dissolve? 

When presented with a blurring of the lines, where is one to proceed? As history demonstrates, uncertainty leads easily to fear. This, in turn, leads to violence and the propagation of difference as a decisive boundary-maker. Typically, this comes at the expense of the less-powerful group, often with disastrous consequences. Perhaps with a greater awareness of each other’s communicative means, these boundaries need not be erected and need not propagate violence. But then again, maybe this is just wishful thinking. 

References

(1) John Durham Peters, Speaking into the Air: a History of the Idea of Communication, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999), 2. 

Pardon the hiatus...

I haven't posted in a while. Life intervened and extenuating circumstances got in the way. In hindsight, though, this experience illuminated an entirely new realm of questions that this blog seeks to explore.

I should probably clarify a bit. That might be useful. 

About a week ago a tragic hospitalization brought many people together. Details aren't really necessary, but I will touch on the most significant recollection from that very trying week spent in close proximity to modern medical practices. 

My overall reflections on hospitals, stability and the inherence of chaos: 

Hospitals are shining bastions of stability in a turbulent sea of sorrow, confusion and anger (substitute these three terms with "chaos.") I have never experienced a more well-run, fine-tuned machine than a modern hospital; every possible need one may have has been thought of and pre-planned for. This structure, in contrast to the human emotions that run rampant through a hospital's halls, provide a comfort, an almost homely feel, that is priceless during a time of struggle. In a sense, it seems that hospitals thrive by recognizing and addressing the human need for the continued presence of order. 

With that understanding, though, and in combination with my inability to understand the past week's circumstance, I think I have come to another recognition, perhaps one that is more profound. There truly is so much that I will never be able to understand. Matthew McIntosh echoes this sentiment in this novel, Well: 

"The trick, he said, is to refuse to believe that any of this makes sense. Because when it does--when the world and life and the way things are make sense--then you know there's really something wrong with you...This world should be incomprehensible to us. Rape shouldn't make sense and murder shouldn't make sense and neither should car wrecks and bombings and loneliness and cancer and diabetes and television."(1)

I think I agree. No amount of rationalization can explain tragedy which, of course, begs the question: why do we try to explain it? Attempts to fathom the unfathomable only frustrate us further.

Sometimes, it seems, inevitable chaos is best accepted allowing us to be thankful for the opportunities we were given. Namely, the opportunity for modern medical care.

References

(1) Matthew McIntosh, Well (Grove Press: New York, 2003), 102.