“All people by nature,” said Aristotle, “desire to know” – at first glance a truth so obvious it seems a truism. Humans – obviously! – are the only curious creature. We want to know not just what but how, why, when. Our curiosity made us preeminent among earth’s creatures, enabling us not just to be but to become.
“Of course!” we nod. But is it true?
For nearly a decade now, I’ve been observing a nation of persons many of whom, maybe most, seem desirous not to know. These are not weird persons from some distant planet, they’re my neighbors, whom I imagined I knew at least sort of, with whom, in an ideal hour, I could sit and discuss and, if we disagreed, understand the reason. I could show them facts or arguments to change their minds, and they mine, and we could pinpoint any difference in axioms that tugged us to different conclusions. We all wanted what was best for humanity and to find our way there, however fumblingly, via a path of truth.
This was a delusion.
Some people, by nature, desire to know – and others adamantly do not. Or, as T.S. Eliot put it, “humankind cannot bear very much reality.”
Such a claim makes me sound cocky, condescending, dismissive of others’ intellects. What gives me the right to dictate true and false? Isn’t it just like some smarty-pants Ivy Leaguer to decree the truth as if any who demurred were dolts!
I reject that assertion: I’m not better. But I know, without doubt, there are two paths to our idea of actuality – the path of truth and the path of faith. The one sorts out the evidence as presented, trying to glean where it leads, and the other retrofits the evidence to prove a fantastic fiction. I’m all for God but not as a substitute for science. Let God reign in the realm of Faith, where no proofs are possible; the sort of knowledge Aristotle had in mind was scientific, fact-based, progressive, where A leads to B leads to C, no ifs or buts.
Humans have proven whizzes at science: witness modernity. But could it be many of us have had our fill of it? The path of faith is so much easier and more comforting. If I fail, let me blame a vile conspiracy not my own fool choices. If I’m glum, let the cause be admirable, not a chemical imbalance. Grievance is so much less strenuous than exertion: let me accuse, not repair, if the facts displease.
These thoughts arose watching Speaker Mike Johnson speaking to the press outside the Trump hush-money courtroom. Maybe it’s his boyish Harry Potter looks or conspicuous Christianity, I took him to be a human brave enough to face facts. And here he was inveighing against our entire justice system as a dark conspiracy – and he a lawyer – a sham and a shame – just because its results displease. Surely he knows better, knows that justice of and by the people is preferable to tyranny, can put two and two together. Was he bullshitting, kowtowing to his orange idol, or delusional? He’s not an idiot, this guy, but how could you have a conversation with him if whatever he says, he’s speaking for God?
Mike Johnson does not “desire to know,” in Aristotle’s terms. He desires not to, unless that information supports his cockamamie contentions. Don’t trouble him with truth if it contradicts his faith.
The path of faith leads to despotism. The boss-man speaks for God and doubt is disallowed. Morality means doing as you’re told not thinking for yourself.
Scary times.