Anti-Natalism Philosophy

David Benatar’s ‘Anti-Natalism’ is philosophers’ logicking, not Wisdom on Life.

I have always had a distant image of philosopher David Benatar that he has a lot to contend with in a difficult place at a difficult time.  I came across one of his actual ideas by chance on the Web.  And in what I write below, I base myself entirely on what I find on the Web.   

This idea has been called Anti-Natalism by other philosophers (see here and here and here; and for personal flavour, herehere and here).  

Benatar begins by saying that human life is so painful that one shouldn’t have been born in the first place. He begins by conceiving life’s experiences as ones of pleasure and ones of pain; then to observe that the balance in many people’s lives is one of pain; so it was immoral to bring them into the world in the first place.

Also, he thinks, that while the balance in some people’s lives may be one of pleasure, it would not be bad if they too had never been born, because then they wouldn’t actually be around to notice what they had missed! This thinking applies to all sentient life.

Also, writes Benatar: once you are born, suicide is not always the right thing, because people have come to depend on you.

As for those of us who insist our lives aren’t so bad, and therefore continue to have children and not commit suicide, we are just fooling ourselves, says DB:  Firstly, we have a mistakenly rosy view of our lives; also, we adapt to our situations by lowering our expectations; and also, we compare our lives to people even worse off.  He says that these psychological tendencies encourage the survival and reproduction of people who think like that.

I may have got details of his argument wrong, but I feel I’m pretty close.  It is the frame of mind I am exasperated with, rather than with the details of postulating and logicking in this case.  

He calls his initial postulate, that there is more pain than pleasure in life, a ‘Crucial Asymmetry’.  And he has extended his thoughts, it seems, into two books, spelling out all the logical steps after his initial postulate.  This logicking is sometimes tabulated, so it comes close to looking mathematical.  For me, this logicking is unerringly correct and obvious, and can be briefly done. 

David tells us he was already beginning to think these thoughts in childhood. 

One of DB’s books is called “The Human Predicament: A Candid Guide to Life’s Biggest Questions,” which sounds as if he polishes off other questions of Life for us.  I saw in passing that another modern philosopher has written a book on Meaning and Meaninglessness in Human Life, which sounds a similar project.  Oi!  They were published by great publishing houses and translated into many languages.  

Up to the time he was writing these posts, he himself hadn’t committed suicide, and refused to tell us whether he had begotten children on the grounds that he is ‘a very private person’.  It is relevant to know because it would indicate whether he himself takes seriously his own views for his own life, or whether they are just part of his career as a philosopher.  Despite the despair of his philosophizing, his photographs show him in a high state of good humour. 

Perhaps the tragic sense of life that he has in this case makes his life worth living.  

If people are going to write words on life, here I think are some examples of how they should do it.  Here firstly an excerpt from The Woman in White, by Wilkie Collins, in 1859:

These thoughts came to me, and others with them, which drew my mind away to the little Cumberland churchyard where Anne Catherick lay buried.  I thought of the bygone days when I had met her by Mrs. Fairlie’s grave, and met her for the last time.  I thought of the poor helpless hands beating on the tombstone, and her weary, yearning words, murmured to the dead remains of her protectress and her friend: ‘Oh, if I could die, and be hidden and at rest with you!’  Little more than a year had passed since she breathed that wish; and how inscrutably, how awfully, it had been fulfilled!  The words she had spoken to Laura by the shores of the lake, the very words had now come true.  ‘Oh, if I could only be buried with your mother!  If I could only wake at her side when the angel’s trumpet sounds and the graves give up their dead at the resurrection!’  Through what mortal crime and horror, through what darkest windings of the way down to death, the lost creature had wandered in God’s leading to the last home that, living, she never hoped to reach!  In that sacred rest I leave her – in that dread companionship let her remain undisturbed.

Also just think how George Eliot in the last pages of The Mill on the Floss deals with the drowning of Maggie Tulliver and her brother, clinging together in the flood.  I can only give here the last lines of the penultimate chapter:

The boat re-appeared — but brother and sister had gone down in an embrace never to be parted – living through again in one supreme moment, the days when they had clasped their little hands in love, and roamed the daisied fields together..

And look at this from Tom Brown’s School-Days, not exactly recognized as one of the great or seminal works of Victorian literature, probably still laughed at for its muscular Christianity.  It concerns Tom Brown himself, when he is saddled with the responsibility for his own good of looking after and protecting Arthur, a frail new boy at Rugby School in the 1830s (where the boys were given weak beer to drink at breakfast, lunch and tea):

This increased his consciousness of responsibility; and though he hadn’t reasoned it out and made it clear to himself, yet somehow he knew that this responsibility, this trust which he had taken on himself without thinking about it, head over heels in fact, was the centre and turning point of his school life, that which was to make him or mar him, his appointed work and trial for the time being.  And Tom was becoming a new boy, though with frequent tumbles in the dirt and perpetual hard battle with himself, and was daily growing in manfulness and thoughtfulness, as every high-couraged and well-principled boy must, when he finds himself for the first time consciously at grips with self and devil. 

[Some pages earlier, Arthur (the frail new boy) had knelt down by his bed before lights out to say his prayers, to the jeering of the other boys.  But Tom Brown and Harry East are soon following his example, and then so do some other boys.] 

OK, so Tom Brown isn’t great but it’s one of the excerpts I had to hand.  Better to dip anywhere into Jonathan Swift, Anthony Trollope, D.H. Lawrence, or Jane Austen (whom I have seen dismissed as a romantic novelist) and many others in the 19th century.  Jane Austen’s little chestnut, ‘A very narrow income has a tendency to contract the mind and sour the temper’ is already of a different order and far above anything written by Socrates and other philosophers on human life.

These fictional excerpts are laced through with Christianity because they were novels of the 19th century.  One could still write profoundly about the lives of human beings on Earth without bringing God into it, but modern novelists since about 1930 don’t.  They are smart contemporaries writing about ‘issues’ and stopping short of saying anything worth reading that I can’t get in the newspapers.  What happened?  I don’t think disbelief in God should necessarily lead to this secular trivialization of life and death.  It didn’t in D. H. Lawrence’s case for example.  (Anyway, even conventional religion is better than Philosophy when it comes to Wisdom.)

Compare the above fictional excerpts to David Benatar’s categorizing of human experiences under columns for pain or pleasure, adding them up, averaging them out to see whether one has had an overall painful or pleasurable life; and logicking to further conclusions with the help of some diagrams.  This is the mentality of the clever schoolboy and of the philosopher

Philosophy has always been an expression of minds that lack that special intelligence and capacity for understanding that human beings have been blessed with (See other posts under Philosophy on this site.) They either lack it or leave it  disregarded and fallow.  Logic,mathematics and science are presently or historically the extent to which philosophers’ minds work. They inevitably have a facile understanding of the life of the self, and then use this facile understanding as a basis for step-by-step logicking into abstractions which impress people as Wisdom on human life.  That certain something of human intelligence that philosophers lack hasn’t even got a name and is considered to fall outside Reason and Rationality.  No-one can encompass everything.        

 

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