Friday, 4 September 2009

Niceness, Nastyness and Moral Luck

I've just finished re-reading Kingsley Amis's hilarious 1954 novel, Lucky Jim, which I first read perhaps fifteen or twenty years ago. I loved it back then, and I still love it as much as ever today.

The novel follows the fortunes and mis-fortunes of a reluctant Medieval History lecturer, Jim Dixon. Much of the action revolves around his relationship with two women: Margaret Peel and Christine Callaghen.

Fellow-lecturer, Margaret, is an emotional blackmailer who plays on Dixon's sense of duty and pity in order to keep him tied-up in a deeply unsatisfying relationship with her. Christine is an attractive young women, who is dating the son of Dixon's boss, Professor Welch.

At one point, Dixon muses upon what it is that has made these two very different women the people they are. He reaches the conclusion that it is largely down to luck.

Many of Margaret's problems and her most unappealing character traits have arisen as a consequence of her sexual unattractiveness. Similarly, much of what is appealing and nice about Christine has come about because of her sexual attractiveness. Neither women are ultimately responsible for their level of attractiveness. Therefore, Margaret's nastyness and Christine's niceness are really just a matter of luck.

But here's the kicker. We might be tempted to think that these considerations somehow diminish the importance of Christine's niceness and Margaret's nastyness. But not so.

Here's how Jim Dixon puts it: "To write things down as luck wasn't the same as writing them off as non-existent or in some way beneath consideration. Christine was nicer and prettier than Margaret, and all the deductions that could be drawn from that fact should be drawn: there was no end to the ways in which nice things are nicer than nasty ones."

I think this is a wonderful and perceptive quote. I've been turning it over in my mind a lot since re-reading Lucky Jim, and it seems to me to be very much tied up with the philosophical concept of moral luck.

I'll explore the topic of moral luck in my next blog update.


Wednesday, 24 June 2009

Two amazing philosohy podcasts

It's a reasonable assumption that if you're visiting this site you're interested in popular philosophy. If so, here are two recommendations for brilliant podcasts where you can learn more about the subject.

Philosophy Bites

This weekly podcast is presented by Nigel Warburton and David Edmonds. Nigel is Senior Lecturer in Philosophy at the UK's Open University, and has written some of the best introductory philosophy books you can buy, including Philosophy: the Basics. David makes radio programmes for the BBC, and has written a number of books including Bobby Fischer Goes to War, a fascinating account of the 1972 World Chess Championship between Bobby Fischer and Boris Spassky (Yes, I have read it. I loved it.)

To date, there are more than 100 fifteen-minute podcasts available at PB, on subjects ranging from Socratic Method to Kant's Metaphysics. Each episode involves an interview with an expert guest. It has to be said that some of the guests are more interesting than others. But on the whole, this is a fabulous resource, with dozens of dozens of interesting topics explored and expounded. And it's free.

Philosophy Talk

This one-hour weekly radio show is presented by Ken Taylor and John Perry, philosophy professors from Stanford University. John and Ken are as engaging as they are erudite, and do a great job of bringing ´the richness of philosophical thought to everyday subjects´.

During the past four years, Philosophy Talk has covered subjects ranging from Terrorism to Intelligent Design; Baseball to Beauty; and Making Decisions to Overcoming the Terror of Death.

Past programmes are available on streaming audio for free, or as downloadable podcasts for just US$2.95. I always pay for the download and then put the file onto ITunes.

Friday, 22 May 2009

The best-spent hour of your life...

Over the years, I've read many books that have influenced and inspired me. Certain passages have had such a profound effect that it would be fair to describe them as life-changing.
Here are some examples:
  • The opening paragraphs of Descartes' Meditations
  • Sartre's short lecture/essay, Existentialism and Humanism
  • The opening chapter of Robert Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
  • The chapter where Digory rings the bell in C. S. Lewis's The Magician's Nephew
  • Hume's Essay, Treatise and Enquiries (can't single out any particular bits: they're all good)
  • Etc.

Today, I have another life-changing work to add to my list: Seneca's essay On the Shortness of Life. A Straits Times reader brought it to my attention recently after reading my Mind Your Body series about growing old. I can't thank him enough.

I've read and re-read Seneca's essay, and will doubtlessly re-read it many more times in the coming years. It's a wonderful, inspiring and challenging work, in which the Stoic philosopher demonstrates just how much of our time we spend existing rather than living.

I'll be exploring his views in an upcoming Mind Your Body series. But anyone who's interested in going straight to the source can check out the full text here: http://www.forumromanum.org/literature/seneca_younger/brev_e.html

It takes less than an hour to read, and might just turn out to be the most wisely-invested hour of your life...

Saturday, 2 May 2009

A brand new paradox

Last weekend, some friends and I were guests at a wedding reception. Afterwards, on the taxi-drive home, the conversation turned to goal-setting.

"I'm sick of goal-setting," I said. "This year, I'm going to set myself just one goal: not to achieve any goals."

My beer-soaked brain turned this over for a few moments, and then I exclaimed, "Hey - that's a paradox! If I don't achieve any goals then I've achieved my goal... which means I've failed to achieve it. But that means I've achieved it after all. Which means I've failed to achieve it. Which means..."

"Who brought him?" grumbled someone from the back of the taxi.

"Not me. I've never seen him before in my life," my wife replied.

Which just goes to show how unappreciated we philosophers are. I invent a brand-new paradox, and am repaid with scorn. Now I know how Socrates felt.