GODS WANT TO BE HUMAN

For some reason, several religious traditions have their god/gods fixate on food.  Genesis readers know of the famous divine command not to eat from the tree of good and evil.  In Leviticus the proscriptions get more detailed. Animals of land, sea, air: all are divided into clean and unclean.  

The ancient Greek gods were not  as prone to clear-cut commands. They were, to their discredit, prone to  god-awful (literally) behavior. When it comes to food, the god-awfulness sunk to its greatest depths.  Cronus devoured 5 of

his own kids. The youngest, Zeus, was saved by his mother. Continuing the paternal tradition, Zeus tricked one wife into becoming a fly and then promptly swallowed her.

How about regular food?  Well, the gods had nectar and ambrosia. Both words indicate immortality.  It therefore makes sense that they would be the main intake for deathless divinities.  But, let’s face it, a steady diet of nectar and ambrosia would get kind of dull and repetitive.

The human case offered a sort of reversal. No ambrosia, no nectar (the main human/divine difference, after all, was mortality).  Otherwise, humans had it pretty good, even better than the gods. Roasts, vegetables, fruits, seafood--all of these pleased the human palate.

Hesiod depicted the first, “Golden” age of humans in happy terms. They “lived like gods.”   They “made merry with feasting beyond the reach of all evils.” Earth was good to them, bearing “fruit abundantly and without stint.”

There was not that much difference between Hesiod's gods and  human beings. What Hesiod got wrong was the direction of longing.  It was the gods who longed for the enjoyments available only to humans. Not surprisingly, when a Renaissance painter, Giovanni Bellini, portrayed gods at a feast, they sure (1) looked, and (2) behaved, like regular old human beings.

This makes sense.  Humans are open to pleasurable experiences  closed off to the gods. Living like gods would necessitate being disembodied. Being disembodied would bring immortality. That´s okay. But at what price?  Imagine what a dull existence would ensue. No eyes to see; no stomach/taste bud combination to savor food; no ears to hear; no tongue to speak; no arms for hugging; no lips for kissing; no ability to interact with anything.  Hesiod, I repeat, got it backwards. It is the gods who wish to live like humans (and in Greek mythology this is just what they do). Otherwise, life’s pleasures, culminatory satisfactions, shared enjoyments, are all out of reach.

This reversal is important when humans dream of eternal life. That case also involves a sleight of hand.  Officially, life beyond this one is characterized by what is known as "beatific vision,” a status of direct apprehension of the divinity. Such a mystical experience, however, doesn’t satisfy the imagination. Much better to envision an unending life that looks a lot like the pre-death one, except that all difficulties and challenges have been eliminated. The illogic of this scenario: such a life would be impossible absent the corporeality that necessitates mortality. Existence would be that of disembodied minds or souls. True, it’s possible to envision such a state. Envisioned honestly, with no sleight of hand, i.e. no sneaking in dimensions of corporeality, such existence would be far from desirable.

A disembodied status, for one, would involve an existence without hugs. Deprived of arms and eyes, immortal

grandparents would be unable to see, not to mention offer warm caress-filled welcomes for their grandchildren. The general status would be one of unalterable deprivation: no lovely sights (without eyes); no enticing odors (without nose/taste buds); no melodious sounds (without ears); no movement (without legs). Within traditional theology, these deprivations would be counterbalanced by the satisfaction of beatific vision. But even that experience, to be attractive, has to be described using a physiological metaphor, the corporeal dimension of sight.

Overall, unending disembodied existence does not provide an enticing picture.  The draw of nectar and ambrosia (immortality) is admittedly strong. But, it is so only if we ignore the rest of the picture.  Once we realize how hugs, conversation, music, good company, and good food would be absent, the temptation toward immortal existence becomes less attractive.  We come to realize why it is the gods who wanted to be more like humans.

BILLIONAIRES and CHOICE

Life expectancy, claims a report from late 2018, is moving in the wrong direction, at least in the US. This is occurring at a time

when Silicon Valley has people who believe unending life is a reachable goal.  Sergei Brin, of Google fame, for example, envisions a time when we shall be able to “cure death.”

Since folks like this are flush with cash, they can bankroll projects meant to lengthen life and overcome death.  Here we get into a key valuational issue: choice. Another web billionaire. Bill Gates, spends money toward a different aim: toilet research. People living in areas without central sewage can benefit from toilets that self-containedly  dispose of human waste.  

Philosophers often discuss how freedom and responsibility are linked. We make choices and should accept accountability. Allocation of resources stands as a blatant area for choice-making. Some

choose longevity research; others, off-grid toilets.  Is there a difference? Can philosophy help at least clarify the terms of intelligent discussion?

The answer, for “choice,” is yes.  Because the word is honorific and partnered with freedom, it often evades evaluative reflection.  As a result, two quite different meanings are not properly separated: (1) choice as “electing among options for good reasons;” (2) choice as “determining a course of action based on preference.”

The difference may not stand out at first sight, but it is significant.  Sense “1” strives to balance objective and subjective considerations. Sense “2” leans toward subjectivity.  “1” emphasizes

how choice is always a selection among options. It encourages intelligent examination of the options as part of the choosing procedure.  “2” emphasizes personal preference. It minimizes exploration and evaluation of competing options.

Getting the balance right, “moderation” as the ancient Greeks put it, presents an elusive target.  The temptation to laziness compounds the problem, encouraging a sharp either-or. The ancient world tended toward the objective side.   Within 20th century philosophy, the movement called “emotivism” tilted most famously toward the subjective. “Emotivism” sharply separated science and morality. For the former, choice was based on fact-centered evidence. The latter was relegated to the realm where choice arose from non-rational factors, mostly subjective feeling. “Choice” here lost its sense of  “electing among options for good reasons.” It transformed into “act of will based on personal predilection.”

Here is where food-related discussions can help.  Describing responsibility, people often claim something like  “it’s up to the individual.” This claim is both accurate and misleading.  It is up to the individual (subjective) to make choices about diet. At the same time, it is definitely not up to the individual whether those selections will maximize nutrition or not .There are standards, physiological standards, to which we need align ourselves(objective).  

It’s true that evidence is hardly ever perfect. (i.e. eggs are good for us, no, wait

a minute, eggs are unhealthy).  Evidence exists on the continuum of stronger and weaker. The subjective component, “(I choose, for good reasons, to accept this evidence as sufficient”) hardly ever disappears completely. The combination of objective evidence and subjective commitment is almost always in play.

The dream of perfect certitude leads to a common  temptation: “no evidence is perfect, therefore personal preference is the way to go.” This is the path of skepticism.  It is based on disappointment at not being pure minds. It is problematic because it begins by projecting a false ideal, and then framing the issue as a false dilemma: either perfect certitude or general skepticism.  Rephrased in terms of “choice”: if the evidence for selection (choice) is not perfectly compelling, then “choice” becomes mere preference. The mixed, more human, path, the one aiming at a proper blend of evidence and personal commitment is set aside.

The mixed approach is not all that tempting because it is arduous.  The tug of laziness can draw us in the direction of “perfect objectivity or pure subjectivity.”  In neither case is the difficult exercise of intelligence called for. Temptations to laziness, though attractive, mislead us about who we are.  The more challenging path has the advantage of accepting our condition as it is. It is the one which restores “choice” to its status of selection for good reasons based on evidence.