“Man is the only real enemy we have. Remove Man from the scene, and the root cause of hunger and overwork is abolished forever.” – George Orwell
What is progress?
What are we saving ourselves from?
What is the human condition?
What is the ultimate purpose of man?
These preceding questions are some we would have to agree on an answer to, if we were to think about and plan for ways we could “progress” as a species. We would have to know what progress was defined as, if we were to plan to ever get there. The trouble with the postmodern age’s predominant thought, is that it defines everything as relative in regard to truth, and therefore progress is not actually possible under this paradigm. Progress is not possible in a postmodern age because if all truth claims are relative, progress does not exist. In a broader sense, neither does language exist, if you can believe it, because language is an agreed upon form of representations of truth. Remarkably, George Orwell, author of “1984”, Aldous Huxley, author of Brave New World, and FA Hayek, author of “The Road to Serfdom”, all saw this trivialization of language itself back several generations ago when they remarked on “the end of truth” at the end of World War II.
Now, if you reject postmodern relativism (the denial of truth) as I do, and think there are truths out there, then we can continue to discuss and argue and have a conversation about what we think is true and what we think true progress is. The simple fact that people do argue about what progress is, is strong evidence that it does exist, though it may be elusive and hard to find because if true progress did not exist, we would have nothing to discuss and nothing to argue about! In this regard, I am hopeful for more conversation, arguing, and thus progress.
So now we are back to the original questions, which must be answered before we can proceed towards our goal:
What is progress?
What are we saving ourselves from?
What is the human condition?
What is the ultimate purpose of man?
Dr. Charles T. Rubin makes a valiant attempt to grapple with these questions in his excellent book, “The Eclipse of Man: Human Extinction and the Meaning of Progress” (pictured above). I highly recommend the work as an exploration for the quickly proceeding “transhumanist” movement, born out of both a consumerist culture of maximizing choice, and rapidly expanding artificial intelligence and technology. Technology and particularly the internet has had a much deeper and harsher effect I think than we realize. I know it has on me. I like this quote from Wendell Berry:
“It is easy for me to imagine that the next great division of the world will be between people who wish to live as creatures and people who wish to live as machines.”
It would take several pages to summarize The Eclipse of Man, but the last chapter of the book offers us 3 possible scenarios for the future, illustrated by 3 paintings of Icarus, the tragic mythological figure. A little background first. Icarus, from Wikipedia:
In Greek mythology, Icarus is the son of the master craftsman Daedalus, the creator of the Labyrinth. Often depicted in art, Icarus and his father attempt to escape from Crete by means of wings that his father constructed from feathers and wax. Icarus’ father warns him first of complacency and then of hubris, asking that he fly neither too low nor too high, so the sea’s dampness would not clog his wings or the sun’s heat melt them. Icarus ignored his father’s instructions not to fly too close to the sun; when the wax in his wings melted he tumbled out of the sky and fell into the sea.
3 Possibilities
Dystopia
The first painting Rubin offers us in his closing thoughts is Daedalus & Icarus, 1799, by Charles Paul Landon. The beautiful painting illustrates a future of what looks like at first site to be possibility, magic, ingenuity, flight, and potential. But if you closer look at the painting, what else do you see? Look in the background and at the details. There is no time, place, personality, distinction, or circumstance, only an androgynous pair. And is Daedalus pushing Icarus to a certain death, or grasping to hold on because he knows the tragedy which awaits? Regardless, though it’s not evident in the painting, we know the likely outcome when Icarus eventually falls from his hubris, and his desire for permanent flight away from his condition.
Certain Disaster
The second painting is The Death of Icarus from 1979 by Bernard Heisig. In this painting, we see only fatal tragedy as Icarus is burned by the sun. Failure and pain are evident in the abstract scream and crying out from the mythic icon as he falls painfully back to earth. This is a clear look at a someone who has flown too close to the sun, despite his Father’s warning. Realistic but Hopeful
In the final painting, Landscape with the Fall of Icarus by Bruegel, Rubin shows us a hopeful and grounded, but realistic view of the tragic flight of Icarus. Life goes on, agriculture, travel, commerce proceeds, as they always have as part of the human experience, as Icarus subtly but fatally crashes into the water at the bottom right of the painting. The land must be cultivated, and there are limits to change. Animals are present, as are goods to be bought and sold. You must look hard to even see Icarus landing in the water with scattered feathers. Bruegel neither denies technology- the boat, the plow, the city, nor attempts to move forever beyond them. His work acknowledges the human condition, then subtly suggests we ourselves must work to improve as individuals, like all our ancestors have.
I really enjoyed this book. I think sometimes it’s easy to get caught up in other things and forget to look at all the beauty, and things to be in awe of right in front of our face, as well as the work that needs to be done in our own lives, own neighborhoods, and our own communities. The truth is that most things that have been around for a long time are not going anywhere, and the true magic is right in front of our face.
At the end of the book, Rubin ties in a line from War and Peace about the character Bezukhov’s great internal transformation of character:
In the past he had never been able to find that great inscrutable infinite something. He had only felt that it must exist somewhere and had looked for it. In everything near and comprehensible he had only what was limited, petty, commonplace, and senseless. He had equipped himself with a mental telescope and looked into remote space, where petty worldliness hiding itself in misty distance had seemed to him great and infinite merely because it was not clearly seen. And such had European life, politics, Freemasonry, philosophy, and philanthropy seemed to him. But even then, at moments of weakness as he had accounted them, his mind had penetrated to those distances and he had there seen the same pettiness, worldliness, and senselessness. Now, however, he had learned to see the great, eternal, and infinite in everything, and therefore–to see it and enjoy its contemplation–he naturally threw away the telescope through which he had till now gazed over men’s heads, and gladly regarded the ever-changing, eternally great, unfathomable, and infinite life around him.
If there is a progress, or a happy and healthy future, to me it sounds something like this. Like Bezukhov, heaven sounds and feels to me less like the latest, greatest technology, and more like a great big banquet around a table with friends, a walk in the park or on the beach in October, learning something new, a sunset on the lake, some popcorn, fishing with your Dad, or a hug from somebody you love dearly. The key to a healthy and sincere progress seems to be to remind ourselves of this, of the awe-inducing beauty of the mundane, known, and simple, as the pervasiveness of technology grows every day.
What do you think?
The Eclipse of Man: Human Extinction and the Meaning of Progress is available for purchase on Amazon.
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