Friday, May 29, 2009

Who we are instead

Humanity, I think, has more or less figured out who we are not. We are not perfect. We are not eternal in nature, at least not physically. The question posed by existential philosophy, then, is less "Whe are we?" than it is "Who are we instead?" and in this the doctrines of existentialism swiftly begin to break down. Existentialism, or the idea that people determine our own purpose and meaning, is based upon two primary postulates. I'll address each in turn.

First of these is that human purpose is open to determination. I always found this rather amusing. After all, purpose is definitionally the function an object is intended to perform. A hammer is designed to hit things and that is why it exists. If it has any "purpose" it only has one and that one is pre-determined. Sure, a hammer can be used for other things (propping open doors, holding down errant pieces of paper, etc.) but to do so is a waste of its potential. Once we acknowledge that humans can have a purpose, we are obligated to ackowledge that this purpose already exists. Thus, based on a reasonable concept of "purpose," we see that it is in no way subjective. Tying back to my introduction, people have decided, in general, that we are not purposeless. We have a purpose, one that is set by design and pre-existent intent.

In light of this the second assumption, that people are qualified to choose our purpose, looks similarly shaky. Imagine, for a moment, that people are all characters in a novel. We might do anything, but who we are is another matter entirely. Each character has a given perspective and can interact with other characters and the fictitious environment, but is powerless to alter his or her own identity beyond the natural growth and evolution all people experience as life progresses. The point here is that, within the story, we are not narrators. In a plot-driven story (as the story of human existence definitely is from a Christian standpoint) the players are defined by the plot, not vice versa. Characters lack the omniscient third-person perspective necessary to assign meaning. We are not qualified to assign ourselves identities.

In short, unless we accept a God capable of granting us purpose all we can ever know is what we are not. Our failings as a species are painfully obvious, even without a clear definition of the word "failings." Any rational individual can tell you that something is wrong with us. A sharp one might go so far as to say that we have failed to attain some standard. But without an entity to provide this standard, and perhaps even the means to attain it, we are powerless to determine who we are instead.

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