#40 — Conspiracies

Greetings Philosophers!

A student recently sent me a film titled “Plandemic.” The idea behind this film is something many of you have heard about — that Covid-19 is a biological weapon, set loose intentionally. They asked me to watch it and then let them know what I thought.

The issue of conspiracies is a difficult question to answer. The Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard wrote: “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.” This means, to me, that we can know there have been conspiracies in the past. For example, there was a conspiracy to not only kill Abraham Lincoln, but also other high government officials.

My question is, can we know about conspiracies while they are happening? I have much less certainty about this. Critical thinking provides some insights.

Critical thinking is a skill that needs to be learned and practiced. But it only works well when you also have the correct information. And that is exactly what the question of conspiracies addresses. Do we have the correct information?

My overall feeling about conspiracy theories is that there is some truth to them, but we can’t really know it at the time, but only later. So, when someone claims to know what is “really going on,” I immediately become suspicious.

I think when a person believes in a current conspiracy theory, it speaks more to their need for psychological security than it does to the accuracy of what they are hearing and reading. We live in a world of uncertainty that can make us feel anxious.

One way of dealing with anxiety is to feel like, even though billions of people are victims of misinformation, somehow, I am on to the “real truth.” Emotional security is not a replacement for critical thinking. So, as a philosopher, I try to keep closer to the questions than the answers.

So, is COVID-19 a biological weapon? Perhaps. But how can I really know?

In the meantime, I think we worry too much about what we don’t know, when we do not address what we do know. For example, we know we are killing ourselves with cigarettes and fast food. Far more people die of obesity and smoking each year than from this pandemic, at least so far.

We do this because we succumb to advertising and peer pressure. That, at least, is something we can fight. No one makes us smoke or eat junk food.

Having said all of that, I believe that the only thing I can really do is transform my consciousness and inspire others to do the same. That is why I have dedicated my life to helping young people think critically, creatively, and outside of the box. I believe that true education is subversive and transformational.

To Wisdom!

Apophat

#39 — Coping with Grief and Loss

Hello Fellow Philosophers!

Another student recently asked me about death, this time about how philosophy can be a comfort when coping with grief and loss.

This is not an easy question, but none of the great questions are. There is not even a single “answer.” Religion can offer comfort because it gives us answers. “Where did Grandma go? She went to heaven, and some day you will see her again.” This is very comforting. But philosophy does not offer such surety.

But philosophy as I was taught, does ask that we “stay in the question.” To do this is not easy, nor, I think, is it supposed to be easy. This is because it requires a special kind of effort, a different kind of attention, to stay in between the consolation of religion and the opposite, what we might consider the consolation of nihilism — that nothing happens.

So, the first way philosophy is a comfort, for me at least, is that it insists on my seeing very clearly that I don’t know what happens when death comes. I experience sorrow, but what causes suffering, rather than pain, is the story I tell myself about that pain. The Buddha taught: "Pain is certain, suffering is optional." Pema Chodron teaches, “feel the feelings, and drop the story.”

The pain of loss is our experience. With time, it eventually heals, or at the least turns down the intensity of sorrow. The suffering, however, is optional. Most of the suffering, in my experience, comes from the story that “this should not have happened.” For example, this person should not have died.

But notice how this assumes I know and understand what should and should not be happening. There is also a sense that death is wrong and bad. Thoughts like these cause the suffering rather than the pain.

If I stay in the question, I realize that for all I know, perhaps death is a good thing. When I think it is bad, I am making an assumption. For all I know, it may be a a “graduation” of sorts or at least a freedom from the pain of human existence.

Another perspective I have found helpful is what you might call the cosmological perspective. This means I make an effort to see death in the light of the size and the time of the cosmos. Then the question becomes “what is life?” The longest life is but a mere flicker of light, gone before it is even registered.

Another “comfort” is the reminder that loss brings the wish to cherish every moment and each person. Sooner or later, we must all face the great unknown.

This can encourage us to measure our lives by a different standard. As the great poet Maya Angelou says: "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away."

For me, thoughts like these are the consolation that philosophy offers to me when I experience the pain of grief and loss.

Best,

Apophat

#38 Death

Hello Fellow Philosophers!

One of my students recently asked me about death and how philosophers view death. There are many different answers and I will restrict myself to sharing my own thoughts about death.

I was taught to think about my death every day. While this can come across as morbid, it’s actually a way to enhance your life. To remember you are going to die, you are more likely to waste less time. You are more likely to see the importance of forgiveness and love. You are more likely to behave in ways that increase your vitality and presence rather than in living life on auto-pilot.

As a philosopher, I’m agnostic about what happens after we die. I do not think it is bad. I have two thoughts about it, and I am not sure which one appeals to me more. One thought is that a baby about to be born must on some level feel it is being squeezed to death. To the extent it can think, I imagine a baby saying “Well, this is it. My life is over.”

However, the baby comes out of the womb to find an entirely new world awaiting it. While we can’t remember this experience, I think death might be similar. It seems we are losing everything, only to discover a far greater world than we can now imagine.

My other thought is that my individual ego is like a drop of water. My True Self is all water. But my ordinary experience is that I am a drop of water, separated and alone from the other drops around me. One drop may be rich and one poor. One may be beautiful and one not so much.

But it is not important because the drop of water has a short existence as a drop before it returns to the sea. When that happens, it loses it sense of being alone and isolated and returns to its true source — water itself and not just a drop.

Question everything! My thoughts are not to be believed, but a simple offering of what I think today.

William Shakespeare wrote: “We know what we are, but not what we may be.” I take comfort in this idea that while the future is unknown, it may be very exciting. Growth in wisdom and compassion — love — in this life points toward a continuation of unlimited growth.

It is interesting to me that a student asked me to write this, because I am in the process of having a friend of mine create a skull ring for me. This will serve as a reminder that each day is precious and that I can’t count on any future days, even as I hope I still have many to come.

Boethius wrote: “Contemplate the extent and stability of the heavens, and then at last cease to admire worthless things.” When you think of the countless generations before us, let alone the life of the cosmos, you see that our lives, even long ones, are very short, like the blink of an eye. This can help us remember what is most important and not worry so much about what is quickly passing.

Best,

Apophat