The random deaths of two friends
within the past half year has again shown me how much we are in the thrall of
Chaos, as if the horrors in daily newspapers weren't enough to convince
me. One friend was killed by a
motorist who ran through a red light.
The other was slain by a psychotic with whom he had no connection. It is one thing to read of Chaos in
some distant city or land, another to be shocked by its making off with
friends.
I suppose I should not have been so shocked, for I believe
that Chance—all the random and unpredictable things that happen to us—is a
major determinant of our lives. In
addition to its downside, Chaos, it has the upside of Fortune. It's as if we lived in a casino, our
fates determined by random turns of cards, wheels and dice, further muddled by
the vagaries of other players. We
try to play well in this casino: to recognize and seize an opportunity when
Fortune smiles and to diminish Chaos by using caution. Even for the best players, though, there
is a sufficient abundance of the random and unpredictable to seize control.
My own response to the arbitrariness of Chance has become a
curious combination of resignation and hope. It is reflected by some previous writings in this blog,
which I think blend into a more or less coherent philosophy of life.
I have become reconciled to Chance's sovereignty [1],
which I see stemming from two sources.
On the natural level, it starts with the uncertainty inherent in quantum
physics [2]
and ascends to such indeterminate phenomena as DNA combination at conception,
genomic mutations [3],
the weather and earthquakes.. The
odds here are pretty much fixed by nature. On the man-made level, Chance arises from the erratic
interactions among all six billion of us: the up- and downsides of competition
and markets, the only-downsides of criminal acts and war, and the like. Here the odds are more malleable
because they depend on how we ourselves act—we use our analytical abilities and
intuition [4],
exercise free will [5] and engage
in concerted societal action [6]. I have moments of pure hope, for
instance when I see signs of fresh life bubbling up in a new generation, with
all the promise of a new start that entails [7]. I perceive hope as the essential
ingredient in survival [8] in the face of
Chaos.
At my age, Chaos is more on my mind than Fortune, since the
latter has probably blessed me with all that I am likely to get in an already
fortunate life. In an attempt to
evade the angst of Chaos, I have lately become less and less an active
participant, more and more a removed observer, above all seeking equanimity [9]. It is as if I have at long last tried
to withdraw from the casino.
Voltaire had scathing words for those who reach this state,
calling them sapless with ennui.
He assuredly was not one of them, living to a ripe 84—two years older
than I am now—and remaining vital and passionately engaged, despite threats of
imprisonment, until dying not much before the French Revolution that he helped
precipitate.
Voltaire undeniably understood Chaos. He savaged those like his fictional
character Dr. Pangloss (modeled after Leibniz), who believe that Chaos doesn't
exist in this "best of all possible worlds" and contend that each
thing is made for a purpose and therefore necessarily for the best purpose, no
randomness involved. In
representing the actual world in Candide,
Voltaire has his eponymous hero suffer endless natural calamities—earthquake,
fire, shipwreck, etc.—and succumb to multiple acts of human cruelty through the
misfortune of being at the wrong places at the wrong times. Meanwhile, in one scene, he drolly has
Pangloss dissuade Candide from trying to save a friend who is drowning in the
Lisbon harbor by "proving" that the harbor was formed expressly for
that friend to drown in.
No, Voltaire didn't Pangloss over natural and man-made Chaos
with metaphysical claptrap.
Accepting it, he resolved to live in and improve the real world. If that was good enough for Voltaire,
even as he aged, why not for me?
Instead of surrendering to ennui, losing my sap, shouldn't I still defy
Chaos as he did and stay involved?
Excellent questions to ask myself.
My detachment, however, runs very deep. For example, take politics. Man-made Chaos can flow from it, like
Vietnam and Iraq. I used to
participate in it more heavily than now, hoping to help suppress such
Chaos. But I can no longer abide
the Chaos of the political arena itself—its cacophony, destructiveness and
ineffectiveness—so have largely disengaged myself. As for natural Chaos, one is still more impotent to control
it, so "che sarà, sarà" seems appropriate for it too. I therefore disentangle myself from
what Chaos I can, specifically when my ability to control it is minimal to nil.
But wait before you denounce my being sapless, for I haven't
sunk into callousness. I now focus
on small domains that I believe I can influence. I provide scholarships to a few talented youngsters—fresh
life bubbling up—who could not otherwise afford a first-rate education, hoping
to help them take advantage of Fortune and minimize Chaos in their lives. I steer clear of backing party-hack
organizations, whose true agenda is obscure to me, instead selecting for
support a scattering of political candidates across the country who seem to be
both sincere and of my own mind. I
give to charities that are small enough for my contribution to make a
difference, especially those that might reduce the effects of Chaos on the
unfortunate.
In a word, if I have little power to manipulate the full
thrust of Chance's torrent, I might be able to help channel some of its
isolated rivulets. That's an
expression of resignation, tinged with hope, by a jaded would-be retiree from
the casino.