On Using Demons to Explain Personal Struggles

[Warning: This is a ‘rantish wordy’ post, not a ‘pictures with amusing captions’ post]

Earlier I wrote a quick post about some fundamentalist loonies blaming demon sex as the cause of some people’s homosexuality. While I think it is easy to dismiss these particular arguments as the unfounded and misguided sputum that they are, it nevertheless got me thinking about how often demons are genuinely invoked as having an effect on people in the real world.

Like many of the things that I object to in religious thinking, the idea of demons as an explanation for any problems we have appears too easy and convenient an answer. It seem to clearly human in its motivation. Sure this kind of explanation may have held water when our species lived in the ignorance of the Bronze Ages, much like how gods could be invoked to explain thunder; because we didn’t know any better, and it was easier. These days however, relying on such external agents as demons to explain away personal struggles and mental problems is just a cop out.

You see this all the time when people talk about battling their demons, whether it be in the form of alcoholism, depression, or any other negative aspects of their lives. It is a handy way of making it seem like the problem you are having isn’t something intrinsic to you, but rather something happening to you. In this sense it isn’t your fault.

Doing this you effectively externalise your problems, and can even further romanticise this by calling the process a struggle. It allows a certain level of detachment from responsibility, and can also make the whole thing seem less futile. To some, battling a demon is something that can be won, whereas dealing with an inherent problem within yourself can seem like an impossible task.

To a certain extent, these externalisations are not all bad things; however I think this approach gets more wrong, than it does right. This demopomorphising (can I copyright that term?) of ones problems can actually make a lot of sense when you consider the fact that in many cases, these are things that are simply beyond our control. We don’t choose to be depressed, nor do we choose in the strictest sense to be alcoholics.

In many instances things like mental illnesses are a fact of life, and so they can in effect take on the same attributes as some mysterious external force acting upon us.

But I can’t help feel that it is much better to accept that these forces which are external to us can nevertheless be contained entirely within our physical body, and that they don’t require a supernatural explanation. Our brain can work against us, without our consent, or knowledge, and bring about conditions that affect who we are, without necessarily having to be considered an intrinsic part of who we are.

Of course I realise that many instances of evoking demon battling is done in a purely figurative manner. It is however important to realise that a good deal of the public actually do believe in demons actively influencing people’s lives in the literal sense. And there are the more amorphous concepts of demons out there that others adopt. 

A man I previously worked with surprised me one night by revealing that he was a Buddhist. I had heard there were many around these days, but to have a live one in front of me seemed like quite an occasion. Much like when I manage to find a real Christian amongst the throng of unbelievers, and even though I know that Australia is apparently rife with them, they so seldom make their presence known.

Anyway, this real life Buddhist co-worker replied in the affirmative when I asked him if he believed in demons, as I had heard many Buddhists do. As I prepared to place my arguing hat on, and steeled myself for a rhetorical battle to defend reason, I was slightly dismayed when he explained that these demons weren’t supernatural beings. “It’s more like accepting that alcoholism is something that can affect all our brains, it’s something that we are all susceptible to.  There are others too; other things which can affect us negatively in similar ways. And these things are also like demons”

While this explanation doesn’t really sit quite well with me, it was nevertheless a more rational response that I was used to hearing.

Fine, I suppose if you want to refer to these negative aspects of the human condition as demons, I guess I can’t stop you.

But at the end of the day it still seems to me that to describe these negative aspects of our lives as demons just adds unnecessary nomenclature to the situations, which muddies up the waters. Similar to the folly of an atheist talking of the soul, when what they are really just referring to is their inner convictions or mind. Or when people invoke the analogy of ones heart as the seat of their emotions, rather than a muscle to pump blood. Just cut out the superfluous terms and stick to more direct explanations, it often will not only lead to less confusion, but also give a more accurate understanding of what is really at play.

I think Douglas Adams made a fine point of it when he remarked on one of his own mental quibbles, in this instance lacking confidence;

"I have terrible periods of lack of confidence [..] I briefly did therapy, but after a while I realised it was like a farmer complaining about the weather. You can't fix the weather – you just have to get on with it"

Mental problems are things to be dealt with as best we can. They generally aren’t there due to any fault of the person in question, nor are they there for some esoteric religious or mythological sense. They just are.

To try and pin meaning, or intent, onto the things that befall us leads to confusion, halts any real and effective treatment, and places blame in all the wrong places.

Of course this is all just my opinion, and I have absolutely no grounding in any of the relevant sciences in order to make these statements with even the ghost of authority (an I realise that I kind of ended up aiming this rant in the direction of mental illnesses). But hell; isn’t this what the internet is for?

Let me know your thoughts in the comments, particularly if anyone out there has any actual expertise in this area (if this even is an area one can be expert in).

Cheers,

MM

Wednesdays Words 4 - On Open Minds

For today’s Wednesdays Words, you get three quotes for the price of one. Which would be a good deal were it not for the fact these things are free anyway.

This was the quote found in my weekly offerings which spurred on increase:

“A great many open minds should be closed for repairs” – Toledo Blade

It reminded me of this quote:

"The trouble with having an open mind, of course, is that people will insist on coming along and trying to put things in it." - Terry Pratchett

And in turn, this quote, whose origins aren’t quite certain, but who most people mistakenly attribute to Richard Dawkins, after he quoted it in his book, and tv show:

“By all means let's be open-minded, but not so open-minded that our brains drop out.”

Quotes such as this, and many others concerning open minds and freedom of thought, have been finding a lot of purchase the past decade due to the New Atheism movement, and more importantly the staunch totalitarian opposition they find in religion.

Religion runs afoul of the open mind because it has what it believes to be a monopoly on truth, and an aversion to the alternative thinking that open minds can foster.

But what do we mean by an ‘open mind’, and just how open should they be? As the above quotes attest, there are problems with open minds being too open. But perhaps what we mean here isn’t such a simplistic view of the open mind.

Rather than thinking of an open mind as a room with an open doorway, free for anyone or anything to enter, I would like to think of an open mind as still having a studious guard at the door. The guard of reason, who filters through the riff-raff of religion and superstition, after they fail to present the appropriate identification.

An open mind should be thought of as a retronym for a closed mind, not as a description in itself. It is a strike back against the idea that there is a closed system; a set of what is right to think about, and what is wrong.

An open mind is open to ideas in that it is open to consider them, much like how a single person is open to advances by potential partners; it doesn’t mean that any new idea that swaggers along will be let in.

On the other hand, we can see a bit of sharpness to the other edge of this sword and need to be wary. After all even the most open minded proponent of reason and logic will have to concede that there should be some form of thing essentially closed for debate. After all to seek to have reason as the defining filter of what enters the open mind, you would have to put this form of rational analysis beyond contestation. Sure you could argue that such a system is demonstrably reliable, and philosophically persuasive, however then you have only effectively moved your crutch back onto the reliability of these methods. The question of whether such logic and reason are known to be true, or if we are just relying on a form of inference and experimental history to show this is so, still remains open.

When forming our own personal philosophies, there are a few ways we can go about it. As in the past it seems that these days many people find it easier to defer their responsibilities in this regard, and simply outsource their philosophical development and standards off to an external source, such as religion. However as I am an atheist I prefer what I believe is the more pragmatic (though also perhaps more taxing) method of having an open mind, and putting in the effort of manning the door with reason; a hopefully unbiased arbiter who is less likely to indulge those selling divine revelation or personal experience to get inside your mind.

At the end of the day, I am not denying that there are a great deal of religious people out there who are very open minded. However somewhere in one’s mind, there must be a seed of unmovable thought which we build our thoughts and values upon; some axiom which we use to define what we are and what we believe. In this case I believe that it is best to set this kernel in tune with the rational concepts of reason, scepticism and logic, rather than faith, obedience and submission.

And that’s my rant for the day. I don’t know how coherent it is, but perhaps now that I have opened my comments up so that anyone can reply I will get some interesting rejoinders.

Well, what do you all think; are open minds good, or bad, or a bit in the middle? Click on the comments link below to let me know.

MM

Dizziness of Freedom

I am somewhat scared of heights. I wouldn’t call myself acrophobic, in the sense that I am not paralysed by the experience of heights, and don’t suffer panic attacks or anything of the like. But I am uncomfortable with heights, and with the feelings I get from them.

There are obvious reasons why a fear of heights would be favoured by evolution; it doesn’t take much to see why an individual who shy’s away from cliffs may be more likely to survive than their friend who likes playing on the precipice. Likewise there can be obvious discomforts associated with heights, most common being a feeling of vertigo or loss of balance as the visual cues our brain uses to correct our motion move further into the distance, and thus afford us less accurate points of reference to work with.

However these examples are too biological to fully satisfy me with regard to my own reaction to heights. It is all well and good to say that these physiological things can compound into a fear of heights, or at least a discomfort with them; but us homo sapiens’ are one of the lucky species able to not only understand out evolutionary origins, but to also (in a sense) overcome them. There are other natural fears, such as a fear of spiders or darkness, which we can use our reason to overcome. Yet I still find myself experiencing a visceral response when I am elevated beyond the norm.

Plus this photo freaks my eyes out....

Though I may know that the handrail is secure, and that I won’t be falling; I still feel the primal pull towards something less than pleasant. I can be in a tall building, staring out a window in the complete knowledge that I am as safe as the thousands of people who use it every day; yet the pit of my stomach beckons. My mind can reason, but it is nevertheless still contained in a brain, and subject to its evolutionary idiosyncrasies.
I did however find another satisfying explanation a few years back when was reading about Kierkegaard. I came across his idea of the ‘dizziness of freedom’, whereby in some cases the fear of heights can be described not as a fear of the simple fact of being at a considerable height, but rather the second hand fear, or subconscious dread, associated with the fact that you could at any point choose to throw yourself off the edge. Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom he said; the fact that you have the will within yourself to do these things brings up an unfocused fear inside merely because of this fact.

"I must find a truth that is true for me. And someone who can draw bodies" -  Kierkegaard

This to me was a more satisfactory explanation of my own feelings regarding heights. I am not afraid of height in itself, but rather of the possibility (and dare I say urge) to throw oneself over the edge.

I get the same feeling, that quiver at the base of my stomach, when I am a passenger in a car going at speed along a highway. The knowledge that just outside my door is a similar drop to a closer, but equally fatal, moving highway. Accessible with a simple exercising of my own free will; I could just as easily open the door and plunge to the asphalt, as I could defenestrate myself from a sky-scraper.
I don’t want to do these things, for the obvious fear of the consequences; but it is a possibility, and something seemingly only kept at bay by the very will which could bring about its execution.Though I guess as with a lot of explanations, this is just pushing the onus back a bit further. After all, then we have to wonder why the tacit acknowledgement of such possible manifestations of the will is something that our subconscious minds can fixate upon. After all I feel the unfocused fear of this action much more than I do any number of other possible, yet undesirable, actions that are in my arsenal. I don’t feel the dizziness of freedom when I am near a fire, though I know I could throw myself in, nor do I feel anxiety when I am in the presence of poisons, though I know I could imbibe them.

Though some poison I do indulge in

It must simply be the undeniable visual cues, the involuntary sense data that enters our minds via the optic nerve, and sets its subconscious processes working against us. After all to recognise that we are up high takes a lot less deliberative effort than it does to understand some of the other threats mentioned.
Also, at the end of the day, it is much easier on ones pride to shy away from heights based on a reasoned philosophical argument, than it is to just admit that you are scared of heights. So perhaps I will just stick to that for now.

  

Sidenote here: In Being and Nothingness, Jean-Paul Sartre described vertigo as “anguish to the extent that I am afraid not of falling over the precipice, but of throwing myself over”, which seems to be similar to what we are talking about here. Except for the fact that vertigo and a fear of heights aren’t exactly the same thing. Vertigo is more a sense of spinning when one is remaining still. It is often associated with a fear of heights (not to mention classic movies (see above), or Arrested Development skits), but can be experienced at any time.

[Oh, and I couldn't find the vertigo clips from Arrested Development, so i settled with the best of Tobias.]



And with that I declare this random post complete.
MM