Haven't looked at this thing in ages, but I noticed a few anonymous comments, and am gracious for the kind words.
If you're interested, I'm restarting elsewhere (with all of these posts imported), and along with my thoughts (which are more free form, now that I'm (sadly) out of philosophy classes), but also film reviews (I'm a screenwriting student).
I hope anyway who enjoyed this will follow me there. Best of luck.
http://specific-relativity.blogspot.com/
-Derek
Monday, May 31, 2010
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Desuetude
–noun
the state of being no longer used or practiced.
~~~~~~~
Well, all things must end, and thus this blog is finally closing for me. It's spent three semesters getting scratched upon for Professor David Johnson's classes, first Professional Ethics, then Constructing Reality, and finally Nature of Human Nature. I must say my favorite class, as well as my most productive (in thought, not quantity) blogging semester was Constructing Reality, despite working another blog at the same time. My experience in the philosophy department at MCLA has been many times more enriching and rewarding than I expected heading into it, and should I ever write anything of note, the ideas I learned in my philosophy seminars at MCLA will be evident in the text. I am a smarter and more patient person for them.
As I don't particularly like to sprawl my opinions on the internet without a good reason (such as a class), I'm ending this blog for good with this post. I want to thank David Johnson for 5 illuminating classes, and wish you the best of luck in all your future seminars and endeavors. You have helped me understand more than I can explain. Thank you.
-Derek Anderson
the state of being no longer used or practiced.
~~~~~~~
Well, all things must end, and thus this blog is finally closing for me. It's spent three semesters getting scratched upon for Professor David Johnson's classes, first Professional Ethics, then Constructing Reality, and finally Nature of Human Nature. I must say my favorite class, as well as my most productive (in thought, not quantity) blogging semester was Constructing Reality, despite working another blog at the same time. My experience in the philosophy department at MCLA has been many times more enriching and rewarding than I expected heading into it, and should I ever write anything of note, the ideas I learned in my philosophy seminars at MCLA will be evident in the text. I am a smarter and more patient person for them.
As I don't particularly like to sprawl my opinions on the internet without a good reason (such as a class), I'm ending this blog for good with this post. I want to thank David Johnson for 5 illuminating classes, and wish you the best of luck in all your future seminars and endeavors. You have helped me understand more than I can explain. Thank you.
-Derek Anderson
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Elocution
\el-uh-KYOO-shuhn\, noun:
the art of speaking or reading clearly in public, including gestures, pronunciation, and tones
~~~~~~~
An honest theory of human theory sounds rather like a guide to creative writing—though many guidelines can and should be set down to help one better understand, nearly every rule can be broken. This springs from the peculiar addition of sapience, the ability to reflect on any tenet carved into the stone of humanity and, due to that reflection, change it. So while there are many things we can say are inherent to humans, few of them survive disapproving reflection and conscious action.
When I hear “nature”, I think of something that cannot be changed. The human nature, however, is not such a thing—if I were to cut up my already fractured theory of human nature, I would establish primary and secondary characteristics. Among the primary would be very few things, foremost among them the ability to change as the mind sees fit. I could reason to put needs such as eating and sex in the secondary category, as the individual, though he or she will not last very long, can overcome even these most basic instincts.
Yet still I feel there is much to find that is inherent to all humans—centered primarily in pre-nurture states. I’m still working through it.
the art of speaking or reading clearly in public, including gestures, pronunciation, and tones
~~~~~~~
An honest theory of human theory sounds rather like a guide to creative writing—though many guidelines can and should be set down to help one better understand, nearly every rule can be broken. This springs from the peculiar addition of sapience, the ability to reflect on any tenet carved into the stone of humanity and, due to that reflection, change it. So while there are many things we can say are inherent to humans, few of them survive disapproving reflection and conscious action.
When I hear “nature”, I think of something that cannot be changed. The human nature, however, is not such a thing—if I were to cut up my already fractured theory of human nature, I would establish primary and secondary characteristics. Among the primary would be very few things, foremost among them the ability to change as the mind sees fit. I could reason to put needs such as eating and sex in the secondary category, as the individual, though he or she will not last very long, can overcome even these most basic instincts.
Yet still I feel there is much to find that is inherent to all humans—centered primarily in pre-nurture states. I’m still working through it.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Caitiff
\KAY-tif\, noun, adjective:
1. cowardly and mean
~~~~~~~
I haven’t blogged nearly as much as I should have this semester, but there has been no cessation of thoughts for each topic, especially this one, so I’m parsing it as thoroughly as possible right now. I firstly assume that there exists cause and effect, and that while ambiguous as a facet of the physical world (it seems to me an identification of phenomenon, essentially the same as observing “time”—a human definition for something that changes) it is nonetheless wholly evident.
I want to initially slither through the obvious, so as to Lego upward this unusually abstruse debate (is it unusually abstruse? The field’s constructed in such a manner). Full libertarianism strikes me as blatantly false, in that it supposes, on no sufficient grounds, that we are capable of making decisions without antecedents. It ignores that we were born with certain dispositions and needs (the nature vs. nurture debate), and extricates us from the flow of cause and effect by the vessel of consciousness.
Consciousness, however, is a construction, and its foundation is comprised of several mitigating and important materials that we both have little control over and which influence our decisions. The subconscious alone, as a reserve of past trauma, instinct and genetic disposition, is evidence of this—and this is not the only foundation on which our consciousness derives its movements. We cannot be radically free with these extant.
This was further explored in class, where I found myself stumped—bias was mentioned, where antecedent states of mind influenced decisions, and therefore the actions of the afflicted were subject to those antecedents and robbed of true freedom. After all, the basis of morality is that we can act given the proper information to do so. Moral patients are defined by this lack of higher consciousness and reflection—we need to proper information to reflect fully, and without it, we are not truly free. Marx spoke in this way about many things, invoking the illusion of freedom. We may be seemingly conscious agents of free will, but this is undermined and perhaps even stolen entirely by antecedents. Why should we be free from cause and effects?
This is where I stumble on something else I feel is less obvious, but nonetheless profound—that reflection is something cause and effect does not often encounter. In most cases of cause and effect, there exists only the cause, say, a meteor striking the moon, and the effect, a hole and a dust cloud. Neither the meteor nor the moon “predicts, expects” or “reacts” to this occurrences—both are pawns in the movements of an “of-itself” universe (to call it unconscious is anthropocentric).
We, on the other hand, do not seem such willing pawns. Our ability to reflect separates us from the sentient creatures. Especially in lifeforms with lower intelligence, they seem an extension of the universe’s cause and effect. Brought to life by the desire to thrive (still working on that specific cause, scientifically), these organisms are driven by genetic antecedents and desires, and follow them rigorously in nature. While we see exceptions here and there, on the whole, there is no question that animals are at best mildly more autonomous than planets, and much less, it would seem, than humans.
Sapient beings are peculiar in that they can recognize a state of affairs—they can observe the universe as determined. From that, it is theorized they can extrapolate a series of choices, and that in the multitude, the diversity of possible courses of action—one is free. A lack of reflection in mere sentience robs them of this possibility. Reflection on a determinist state of affairs produces more options.
But is the increase in options indicative that we are “freer” than nonhuman animals or rocks, and if so, is that indicative that we are fully “free”? I am sure each polar side of this debate would have their own opinions, but I’m trying to muddle through the middle. I want to reason that we are, by manner of our reflection, freer than sentient animals, but I cannot convince myself entirely.
This is because the antecedent debate extends beyond mere faulty reasoning—such as being raised without enough information to make free choices. To be fully free, I imagine that one must be fully competent—in essence, we need be far more sapient that we are now. And as I’ve encountered with this thought experiment before, higher levels of sapience only prove determinism further, as we need first accept that we and the universe are controlled by cause and effect to have any hope of rounding it. In essence, the only road to freedom leads to acceptance of cause and effect.
Here the paradox is unveiled; I did not understand it in class. Here is where I will attempt to finish what Pojman abandoned, however. I am sure I will fail.
It is certainly the case that though we seem freer than animals or rocks, this is an illusion—our cause and effect is merely extrapolated further, and far complicated by our sapience. All the permutations of this sapience, however, does not round cause and effect. Cause and effect itself proves determinism, however superficially.
However, the rub is not whether or not we and our choices are effects to causes, but whether or not we are the final progenitor of those causes. We are not. However, we play a role—being that there is no machine to predict, being that there is no God to control, and being that there is no evil demon who pulls strings, we alone are observers of ourselves and our actions. We can observe our antecedents and make judgments on their validity in action. This access to observation, the sapience required to enact it, and the reason to employ it are all antecedent causes, and can be drawn back to determinist upbringings. However, without more insightful observers or controlling hands, we are the ones navigating routes.
What I am suggesting is that, in lieu of future selves telling us what we’re going to do, or authentic fortune-tellers who cannot be circumvented, there is a sense of autonomy. There is a sense that we can examine the possible routes of action and decide between them, even if our actions are predictable. Whether or not they are predictable does not rob us of autonomy.
Or does it? Now I’m not sure. Because when I consider an omniscient God, who is infinitely aware of our future actions, it seems to me certain that we have no free will, as it is written into the fabric of reality and known by a conscious being. But when I consider the possibility of a god-like machine that merely predicts behavior being discovered and plumbed, then I feel as if greater access to free will would occur, in that this machine would explicate its predictions and we could then act otherwise.
But if the machine were effective, wouldn’t it, then, be prepared for your change in course based on your reaction to its prediction? In essence, the machine would have to lie to you in order to tell the truth. It would mutate its predictions of the future based on how you will react to the truth of what would have happened had you never encountered it. Only in its telling you of the future would you change your predicted course of action, but if it knew your correct course of action, it would be unable to inform you of it until after the lie is told.
It follows the same logic as the grandfather paradox. There is an inconsistency to full predictability in sapience that cannot be ignored by hard determinists. Knowing our definitive course of action gives us the ability to circumvent it. Does this not suggest that we are free, that sapience, when properly informed (which I’m not suggesting it is), really does have an internal, semi-closed system of cause and effect?
Or ought we merely to call the grandfather or future-teller machine paradoxes logical impossibilities? Even so, it does not diminish the thought experiment or its implications—sapience seems, to whatever end, opposed in some way to determinism, as it can actively reflect and react to a course of events. This is a paradox indeed, as I do not doubt we have many antecedents causes, and that cause and effect is true, and that it can be traced backwards even in sapience. But when sapience butts heads with decisions it is "determined" to make, is not autonomy derived? Perhaps this is only a marginal case and no true denial to determinism, but it feels to me unresolved.
I am not satiated with determinism, but neither am I with libertarianism. Libertarianism strikes me as far more full of falsehoods than determinism, but I cannot rest content to say that sapience and all of its permutations, though constrained by cause and effect, can never be classified as “free”. I say this in the sense that logically, if only under the prescriptions above, true predictions of future behavior are mutually exclusive from sapient reflections of them. The more predictable sapience is, the freer it becomes.
A paradox indeed.
If anyone has further thoughts or answers, please post them, I am impossibly mired.
1. cowardly and mean
~~~~~~~
I haven’t blogged nearly as much as I should have this semester, but there has been no cessation of thoughts for each topic, especially this one, so I’m parsing it as thoroughly as possible right now. I firstly assume that there exists cause and effect, and that while ambiguous as a facet of the physical world (it seems to me an identification of phenomenon, essentially the same as observing “time”—a human definition for something that changes) it is nonetheless wholly evident.
I want to initially slither through the obvious, so as to Lego upward this unusually abstruse debate (is it unusually abstruse? The field’s constructed in such a manner). Full libertarianism strikes me as blatantly false, in that it supposes, on no sufficient grounds, that we are capable of making decisions without antecedents. It ignores that we were born with certain dispositions and needs (the nature vs. nurture debate), and extricates us from the flow of cause and effect by the vessel of consciousness.
Consciousness, however, is a construction, and its foundation is comprised of several mitigating and important materials that we both have little control over and which influence our decisions. The subconscious alone, as a reserve of past trauma, instinct and genetic disposition, is evidence of this—and this is not the only foundation on which our consciousness derives its movements. We cannot be radically free with these extant.
This was further explored in class, where I found myself stumped—bias was mentioned, where antecedent states of mind influenced decisions, and therefore the actions of the afflicted were subject to those antecedents and robbed of true freedom. After all, the basis of morality is that we can act given the proper information to do so. Moral patients are defined by this lack of higher consciousness and reflection—we need to proper information to reflect fully, and without it, we are not truly free. Marx spoke in this way about many things, invoking the illusion of freedom. We may be seemingly conscious agents of free will, but this is undermined and perhaps even stolen entirely by antecedents. Why should we be free from cause and effects?
This is where I stumble on something else I feel is less obvious, but nonetheless profound—that reflection is something cause and effect does not often encounter. In most cases of cause and effect, there exists only the cause, say, a meteor striking the moon, and the effect, a hole and a dust cloud. Neither the meteor nor the moon “predicts, expects” or “reacts” to this occurrences—both are pawns in the movements of an “of-itself” universe (to call it unconscious is anthropocentric).
We, on the other hand, do not seem such willing pawns. Our ability to reflect separates us from the sentient creatures. Especially in lifeforms with lower intelligence, they seem an extension of the universe’s cause and effect. Brought to life by the desire to thrive (still working on that specific cause, scientifically), these organisms are driven by genetic antecedents and desires, and follow them rigorously in nature. While we see exceptions here and there, on the whole, there is no question that animals are at best mildly more autonomous than planets, and much less, it would seem, than humans.
Sapient beings are peculiar in that they can recognize a state of affairs—they can observe the universe as determined. From that, it is theorized they can extrapolate a series of choices, and that in the multitude, the diversity of possible courses of action—one is free. A lack of reflection in mere sentience robs them of this possibility. Reflection on a determinist state of affairs produces more options.
But is the increase in options indicative that we are “freer” than nonhuman animals or rocks, and if so, is that indicative that we are fully “free”? I am sure each polar side of this debate would have their own opinions, but I’m trying to muddle through the middle. I want to reason that we are, by manner of our reflection, freer than sentient animals, but I cannot convince myself entirely.
This is because the antecedent debate extends beyond mere faulty reasoning—such as being raised without enough information to make free choices. To be fully free, I imagine that one must be fully competent—in essence, we need be far more sapient that we are now. And as I’ve encountered with this thought experiment before, higher levels of sapience only prove determinism further, as we need first accept that we and the universe are controlled by cause and effect to have any hope of rounding it. In essence, the only road to freedom leads to acceptance of cause and effect.
Here the paradox is unveiled; I did not understand it in class. Here is where I will attempt to finish what Pojman abandoned, however. I am sure I will fail.
It is certainly the case that though we seem freer than animals or rocks, this is an illusion—our cause and effect is merely extrapolated further, and far complicated by our sapience. All the permutations of this sapience, however, does not round cause and effect. Cause and effect itself proves determinism, however superficially.
However, the rub is not whether or not we and our choices are effects to causes, but whether or not we are the final progenitor of those causes. We are not. However, we play a role—being that there is no machine to predict, being that there is no God to control, and being that there is no evil demon who pulls strings, we alone are observers of ourselves and our actions. We can observe our antecedents and make judgments on their validity in action. This access to observation, the sapience required to enact it, and the reason to employ it are all antecedent causes, and can be drawn back to determinist upbringings. However, without more insightful observers or controlling hands, we are the ones navigating routes.
What I am suggesting is that, in lieu of future selves telling us what we’re going to do, or authentic fortune-tellers who cannot be circumvented, there is a sense of autonomy. There is a sense that we can examine the possible routes of action and decide between them, even if our actions are predictable. Whether or not they are predictable does not rob us of autonomy.
Or does it? Now I’m not sure. Because when I consider an omniscient God, who is infinitely aware of our future actions, it seems to me certain that we have no free will, as it is written into the fabric of reality and known by a conscious being. But when I consider the possibility of a god-like machine that merely predicts behavior being discovered and plumbed, then I feel as if greater access to free will would occur, in that this machine would explicate its predictions and we could then act otherwise.
But if the machine were effective, wouldn’t it, then, be prepared for your change in course based on your reaction to its prediction? In essence, the machine would have to lie to you in order to tell the truth. It would mutate its predictions of the future based on how you will react to the truth of what would have happened had you never encountered it. Only in its telling you of the future would you change your predicted course of action, but if it knew your correct course of action, it would be unable to inform you of it until after the lie is told.
It follows the same logic as the grandfather paradox. There is an inconsistency to full predictability in sapience that cannot be ignored by hard determinists. Knowing our definitive course of action gives us the ability to circumvent it. Does this not suggest that we are free, that sapience, when properly informed (which I’m not suggesting it is), really does have an internal, semi-closed system of cause and effect?
Or ought we merely to call the grandfather or future-teller machine paradoxes logical impossibilities? Even so, it does not diminish the thought experiment or its implications—sapience seems, to whatever end, opposed in some way to determinism, as it can actively reflect and react to a course of events. This is a paradox indeed, as I do not doubt we have many antecedents causes, and that cause and effect is true, and that it can be traced backwards even in sapience. But when sapience butts heads with decisions it is "determined" to make, is not autonomy derived? Perhaps this is only a marginal case and no true denial to determinism, but it feels to me unresolved.
I am not satiated with determinism, but neither am I with libertarianism. Libertarianism strikes me as far more full of falsehoods than determinism, but I cannot rest content to say that sapience and all of its permutations, though constrained by cause and effect, can never be classified as “free”. I say this in the sense that logically, if only under the prescriptions above, true predictions of future behavior are mutually exclusive from sapient reflections of them. The more predictable sapience is, the freer it becomes.
A paradox indeed.
If anyone has further thoughts or answers, please post them, I am impossibly mired.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Malinger
–verb (used without object)
to pretend illness, esp. in order to shirk one's duty, avoid work, etc.
~~~~~~~
6 and final.
It is interesting that Freud was so cynical, though, as his theory, as we discussed in class, makes way for sympathy regarding humans—as in all endeavors, I think, more understanding is the basis for empathy, for the deterioration of judgment, and for mutual benefits. In the example mentioned above—if people were more aware of their inclination to fear the unknown, and where that fear comes from, they might be better able to overcome it. Their understandings of both themselves and the instinctual understandings they’ve already formed could be molded. This kind of self-reflection is key to true ethics and morality, and essential for maturity. It also helps us forgive one another when we act certain ways—trading vindictiveness for understanding.
Psychoanalysis is still important, whether for its modern manifestation (psychology) or even for its proliferated effect (the knowledge of the subconscious). Knowing that something underlies our conscious experience is common sense these days, and allows the individual to explore him or herself much more deeply than has even been possible before. The biggest mass-change from behind Freud to after him is the disbelief in the blank slate—that modern science commonly acknowledges the animality of humans, and everything that comes along with it. While we will still need plenty of talks about how those foundations play a role once the self encounters society, this is the most important place to start—understanding where it comes from.
to pretend illness, esp. in order to shirk one's duty, avoid work, etc.
~~~~~~~
6 and final.
It is interesting that Freud was so cynical, though, as his theory, as we discussed in class, makes way for sympathy regarding humans—as in all endeavors, I think, more understanding is the basis for empathy, for the deterioration of judgment, and for mutual benefits. In the example mentioned above—if people were more aware of their inclination to fear the unknown, and where that fear comes from, they might be better able to overcome it. Their understandings of both themselves and the instinctual understandings they’ve already formed could be molded. This kind of self-reflection is key to true ethics and morality, and essential for maturity. It also helps us forgive one another when we act certain ways—trading vindictiveness for understanding.
Psychoanalysis is still important, whether for its modern manifestation (psychology) or even for its proliferated effect (the knowledge of the subconscious). Knowing that something underlies our conscious experience is common sense these days, and allows the individual to explore him or herself much more deeply than has even been possible before. The biggest mass-change from behind Freud to after him is the disbelief in the blank slate—that modern science commonly acknowledges the animality of humans, and everything that comes along with it. While we will still need plenty of talks about how those foundations play a role once the self encounters society, this is the most important place to start—understanding where it comes from.
Harridan
–noun
a scolding, vicious woman; hag; shrew.
~~~~~~~
5.
People we don’t yet understand and knowledge we haven’t yet gained is scarcely reasonable to fear in an intelligent, self-reflecting being, barring due cause (I’m not saying fear nothing—just have a thoughtful reason).
This is the genius that Freud began—tracing humans back to their origins, and finding a new and richer explanation for why they act the way they do. Undoubtedly most of us have felt uneasy around things that were unfamiliar, feared finding something we could not expect, and even, as Freud got correctly, felt strongly drawn to procreate and felt that influence many, many of our decisions (even if it’s wrapped up and inseparable from the need for love as well).
What I think Freud missed was the natural disposition more important—the need for security. The need for physical security is usually solved, but the need for emotional security is usually a very leaky pipe, and the solution for most of us is little more than scotch tape. We are all volatile bundles of both subconscious and conscious insecurity, often blanketed more than enough to allow the individual to function, but far from fulfilled.
Which is why, I think, many feel a sense of completeness in finding true love—the sharing of insecurity, the vulnerability, the altruism, the uncompromising compassion—these things amalgamate to solve, or at least, persistently and richly stave that leak. This is why the idea of Freud’s pansexuality is complicated—because security is juxtaposed with and among the need to procreate—for many conscious beings (humans, of course, perhaps other conscious beings would not do the same), love and sex are very closely related, as is relationship and child. The divide between love, procreation, personal security and natural inclination is small in modern society. Freud was wrong, in many cases, to draw behavior back to natural sexual disposition, but in many ways, I understand why he went wrong.
a scolding, vicious woman; hag; shrew.
~~~~~~~
5.
People we don’t yet understand and knowledge we haven’t yet gained is scarcely reasonable to fear in an intelligent, self-reflecting being, barring due cause (I’m not saying fear nothing—just have a thoughtful reason).
This is the genius that Freud began—tracing humans back to their origins, and finding a new and richer explanation for why they act the way they do. Undoubtedly most of us have felt uneasy around things that were unfamiliar, feared finding something we could not expect, and even, as Freud got correctly, felt strongly drawn to procreate and felt that influence many, many of our decisions (even if it’s wrapped up and inseparable from the need for love as well).
What I think Freud missed was the natural disposition more important—the need for security. The need for physical security is usually solved, but the need for emotional security is usually a very leaky pipe, and the solution for most of us is little more than scotch tape. We are all volatile bundles of both subconscious and conscious insecurity, often blanketed more than enough to allow the individual to function, but far from fulfilled.
Which is why, I think, many feel a sense of completeness in finding true love—the sharing of insecurity, the vulnerability, the altruism, the uncompromising compassion—these things amalgamate to solve, or at least, persistently and richly stave that leak. This is why the idea of Freud’s pansexuality is complicated—because security is juxtaposed with and among the need to procreate—for many conscious beings (humans, of course, perhaps other conscious beings would not do the same), love and sex are very closely related, as is relationship and child. The divide between love, procreation, personal security and natural inclination is small in modern society. Freud was wrong, in many cases, to draw behavior back to natural sexual disposition, but in many ways, I understand why he went wrong.
Vexillology
n
Definition: the study of flags
~~~~~~~
4.
In all animals sentient, there are two types of security necessary for survival: physical security, which is founded on healthy physiology and an ensconcing environment (or the facets necessary to navigate a harmful one); and mental/emotional security, which, through a combination of chemicals, programmed emotional benefits for performing activities that aid a creature’s survival and punishments for dangerous behavior (pleasure and pain), and the emotional responses incumbent in fear, stability, affection and loyalty, aid the creature in achieving a paragon model of survival. Survival is at the core of every creature including humans, and though our conscious minds have progressed beyond this simple model, we remain inextricably bound to it.
In animals, many of these instincts and functions work as they should: animals fear encountering unknown entities, fear night-time (unless they’re nocturnal) and many creatures maintain unchanging patterns that ensure survival. I see several correlations in humans: it is a natural inclination to fear the unknown, but why? It is not as if our conscious mind has derived, since birth, that the unknown always or even often leads to danger or tragedy—in fact, in many cases what we find is either benign or enriching to our experiences. Often times cultures will bond together and become wary when infiltrated by new people with different cultures and values—is this because the new cultures and ways of thinking are, indeed, dangerous to the individual or the community? Or is it possible that some part of this inclination is naturally derived?
I am suggested here, as an example, that our fear of the unknown, and of those whose traditions and manners differ from us is a legacy of survival programming. In the days when we were far less conscious and more animalistic, it is only reasonable that we would find (being creatures that are neither the biggest nor the strongest) a natural inclination toward fear of the unknown—to callous a traveler and too incautious an explorer would surely find him or herself dead. The conscious mind has developed much since then, but that programming—that association that the subconscious makes between the unknown and danger—is what causes our fear, not the actual unknown itself.
Definition: the study of flags
~~~~~~~
4.
In all animals sentient, there are two types of security necessary for survival: physical security, which is founded on healthy physiology and an ensconcing environment (or the facets necessary to navigate a harmful one); and mental/emotional security, which, through a combination of chemicals, programmed emotional benefits for performing activities that aid a creature’s survival and punishments for dangerous behavior (pleasure and pain), and the emotional responses incumbent in fear, stability, affection and loyalty, aid the creature in achieving a paragon model of survival. Survival is at the core of every creature including humans, and though our conscious minds have progressed beyond this simple model, we remain inextricably bound to it.
In animals, many of these instincts and functions work as they should: animals fear encountering unknown entities, fear night-time (unless they’re nocturnal) and many creatures maintain unchanging patterns that ensure survival. I see several correlations in humans: it is a natural inclination to fear the unknown, but why? It is not as if our conscious mind has derived, since birth, that the unknown always or even often leads to danger or tragedy—in fact, in many cases what we find is either benign or enriching to our experiences. Often times cultures will bond together and become wary when infiltrated by new people with different cultures and values—is this because the new cultures and ways of thinking are, indeed, dangerous to the individual or the community? Or is it possible that some part of this inclination is naturally derived?
I am suggested here, as an example, that our fear of the unknown, and of those whose traditions and manners differ from us is a legacy of survival programming. In the days when we were far less conscious and more animalistic, it is only reasonable that we would find (being creatures that are neither the biggest nor the strongest) a natural inclination toward fear of the unknown—to callous a traveler and too incautious an explorer would surely find him or herself dead. The conscious mind has developed much since then, but that programming—that association that the subconscious makes between the unknown and danger—is what causes our fear, not the actual unknown itself.
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