Tumble Those Trees?

I have a neighbor who decided to take action against some of his trees years ago—an action that I could never bring myself to do. I'm sure he disapproves of my not following suit. His action? Cutting down a dozen or more mature trees that surrounded his house. In contrast, I love the dozen or so trees that surround and lean over my house; I'd never cut them down!

Why the difference? Don does not dislike trees; his motivation was to avoid ever having them blow down and damage his home. He lives in the woods as I do, and enjoys his trees. He just doesn't want to risk one toppling onto his roof. Don is also a guy who likes a tidy yard. Each fall he assiduously sucks up dead leaves with a big machine and deposits them off in the woods. He definitely doesn't like dead leaves carpeting his lawn. By cutting down his trees, he has no falling trees or their leaves to deal with.

So by leaving my trees to stand tall, I am taking an unacceptable risk in Don's eyes. I like the pleasure that trees bring me: their beauty and their shade. I have written on this blog before about sitting in the outdoor tub, looking up and revering the trees, while fully aware that if one takes a notion to fall on me, I'm dead.

This contrasting approach to handling trees reminds me of the teachings of many past and present philosophers, who pondered the propensity of humans (and all critters, for that matter) to maximize pleasure and avoid pain. We constantly make choices that are aimed at enjoying things, while evading suffering. Don doesn't get immense pleasure from his trees, and he is certainly determined to avoid the pain of the expense of roof repairs. His choice is to clear out the trees. I take great pleasure in my trees, and recognize the pain that they could cause me, but choose to take the risk.

One of the crucial factors going on here is one's assessment of the probability of risk. Both Don and I enjoy and get pleasure from trees. But while he is not willing to chance a fallen tree, I am. I regard the probability of a falling tree as low enough that I need not worry about it. So it's a case of how we read the probabilities and how we weigh that against our pleasure/pain. We each make our personal decision.

As I pondered this contrast between Don and me, it occurred to me that a central reason why insurance companies exist is to allow us to take pleasure in those things we enjoy, while the companies step in to decrease the pain we get when bad things happen. We willingly pay a small amount of money each month to an insurance account, to build up a sort of savings. When disaster strikes we are covered. It's a way to game the system: keep enjoying our pleasures, while we don't have to fret the possible pain. Insurance companies are accomplished at computing the probabilities of catastrophes, as they average the costs over many participants.

The function of insurance works to benefit those who can afford to pay for it. A small payment each month is lost in the noise. A downside of this situation is that it allows advantaged people to take otherwise unreasonable risks (for example, building their house on a hillside that is prone to mudslides) and still be covered for losses. Disadvantaged people, however, (who can't afford insurance) lose everything when disaster strikes. It's just another unfortunate example of the differences between the “haves” and the “have-nots.”

Pleasure Yes, Pain No—Part 2

I do not know the ancient Greek word that Epicurus used for pain. Most contemporary writers just use the word pain. I still have a problem with that word, however, since I believe that we do not seek to avoid all types of pain. Do we not sometimes willingly take on pain in order to aid a loved one? If my spouse or my child is suffering from an affliction, would I not step in and risk some discomfort, in order to help them? 

And how about the pain of growth? There's wisdom in the old saw, “No pain, no gain.” I personally would not have benefited from a good career if I had shunned the pain of sleepless nights, while studying hard in college. How many people choose the pain of surgery, in order to correct some bodily disease? The list goes on.

What appears to be the key here, I believe, is that we seek to avoid unnecessary pain, or unjustified pain. Pain is unjust when someone consciously inflicts it on another. When that happens, we rightly feel the need to prevent or stop that kind of pain.

Then there is the unnecessary kind of pain that we needlessly inflict upon ourselves. This type of pain is often the result of foolish choices we've made in the past. At other times we experience unnecessary pain in the way that we react to events. If my mind is wandering as I walk around the house and I bump painfully into a door, I can needlessly increase my pain by also breaking a knuckle, if I get pissed off and take a foolish swing at the door.

So is there a better word than pain for those unpleasant experiences we wish to avoid? From my dictionary's thesaurus I think that the following words are good candidates: torment, misery, anguish, agony. Let me try the word “torment” on for size. It means “a severe form of suffering;” a kind of suffering that has no compensating value; it's for no good reason. It happens when someone (our ourselves) unfairly torment us.

Maybe I've belabored my point a bit excessively, but I do feel that this is a useful exercise in trying to overcome an unfortunate bias against Epicurus which our culture has absorbed, for a couple of millennia now. I'm going through this process in an attempt to counter a mental habit that I may have unconsciously developed: that Epicurus was a blatant hedonist who advocated living a life of sensual self-indulgence.

What's more, that bias can encourage us to reject the remainder of his philosophical teachings, which contain much wisdom. For example, Epicurus also taught that we need not be concerned with an afterlife, that we do not have to fear the gods, that we should surround ourselves with trustworthy friends, that even if we experience pain it seldom lasts long, and that the good life consists of seeking virtue and honesty. Maybe I'll write more on these other teachings in the future. It's good stuff.

Pleasure Yes, Pain No—Part 1

A number of philosophers over the last few millennia have advised us to make many of life's choices from the perspective of a very simple guideline: seek pleasure and avoid pain. One of the first proponents of this concept was Epicurus, an ancient Greek philosopher, living in the 4^th century BCE, who established a school in Athens. Epicurus maintained that we have an innate drive within us to want to experience pleasure and to do what we can to escape pain. It's natural; we don't have to cogitate on it. All animals instinctively do it and we humans—just another animal—do it too.

Some two thousand years later a few Enlightenment philosophers were giving pretty much the same advice. Both Jeremy Bentham (18^th century) and John Stuart Mill (19^th century) founded the Utilitarian concept that it is nature's influence which drives humans to seek happiness and eschew pain. This simple directive very much appeals to me, yet I shy away from using the terms “pleasure” and “pain.” Why? For one, I'm aware that history has not been kind to Epicurus. Look in any dictionary and find that an “epicure” is one who “takes particular pleasure in fine food and drink.” An epicurean is one who is “devoted to sensual enjoyment.” Epicureanism “advocates hedonism.” So says the dictionary.

In the 2500 years since Epicurus walked the streets of ancient Athens, his pleasure/pain message has gotten distorted; which has discredited his wider teachings in many people's minds. In fact, his reputation was being dragged through Greek gutters even as he lived, as pernicious rumors were spread by opponents of his teachings. The slandering process transformed his message from a simple, beneficial one into one of debauchery and licentiousness. His ethical teaching unjustly became unfairly reviled in the eyes of many people, over the years.

Epicurus became portrayed as a sensual degenerate, but the fact is that he and his followers lived lives of simplicity and moderation. Their aim was to put attention to what is required of us to live morally, while avoiding all forms of over-indulgence. It's unfortunate that their message of temperateness became submerged.

There is no question that Epicurus' philosophy was largely discredited because people have chiseled his message into stone, by insisting on using those terms “pleasure” and “pain.” It's unfortunate that these English words have become the accepted translations for the Greek words that he used. In fact, the words pleasure and pain are well off Epicurus' original intent; they are even misleading. So, before I proceed, let me look for two English words which I think better capture the essence of what he meant.

The Greek word that Epicurus used to describe the absence of pain was ataraxia. Its meaning is an untroubledness of mind; a tranquility; or freedom from disturbance. It implies an ideal state of mind. A few alternative English words (from the thesaurus) that also capture the meaning of ataraxia are: contentment, fulfillment, happiness, and serenity. All of these words describe a state of mind that results from the examined life—very much in contrast to a shallow life of pleasure and entertainment. So when I ponder Epicurus' message, I think more along the lines of seeking tranquility and serenity, not pleasure.

More on Epicurus' message next time...

Pleasure or Pain?—Part 2

To return to Bentham's insistence that it is our very nature to seek pleasure (happiness) and avoid pain, it is interesting that he reached his conclusion over half a century before Darwin had the insight that evolution was the cause of our innate drives. While Bentham grasped the fact that this behavior for all creatures was “natural,” Darwin described for us how it came to be. That is, those critters who were good at finding pleasure and avoiding pain were more likely to survive, because their lives were more robust and fit, and they succeeded in passing on this capability to their offspring. In contrast, animals who did not succeed were more likely to perish—if only because their quality of life was poor—and not have offspring.

One of the challenges of those who subscribe to Bentham's ideas of utilitarianism is to know when we've acquired enough pleasure or happiness. Can we control ourselves, so that life does not become one extended obsession of seeking pleasure? Humans have not been very good at reining in their greed. In fact, too many of those who get a taste of pleasure go overboard with it. A prime example is today's ultra-rich who seize all they can get and create overwhelming economic inequality. Bentham and others saw that it must be the job of government to check inequality and ensure justice for the populace. It's not working very well in the US, today, however, largely due to the fact that the super rich pretty much control government through their corporate power.

On the other side of the coin, we can ask: Should we go to extremes to avoid pain? Is all pain bad? It may be natural for us to shun pain, but are there occasions when we might need to face it? Unlike animals, our cognitive abilities can help us examine the need to avoid pain all the time, and do something about it. Doesn't it make sense to visit the dentist and endure the discomforting prick of the novocaine needle and have a cavity filled, so I won't have to endure much greater pain later, when the tooth becomes abscessed? As another example, I attribute a good deal of the enduring relationship I have with my wife to the discomfort we endured during several conflict resolution sessions we have had over the years. It was downright painful to have to admit a few times that I was wrong in something I did or said.

Volumes of philosophical tomes and many psychological studies have pondered the struggle to balance pleasure and pain. Like most issues of philosophy, there never is a clear and final truth to be discovered. Life is too complex for that.

Maybe the best we can do is to make ourselves as aware of the inherent nature of pleasure and pain as we can, and then move through life, constantly seeking the appropriate balance at each step along the way. Seek happiness, but don't go overboard with it. Control yourself. Similarly, the avoidance of pain is natural, but it seems to me that it's more a case of taking a close look and having the courage to face pain when it makes sense to—especially when it brings the opportunity to learn. It doesn't make sense, however, to invite unnecessary pain into our lives. That just causes damage.

Pleasure or Pain?—Part 1

Every creature—from gigantic blue whales down to microscopic bacteria—shares a common tendency: to seek pleasure and avoid pain. This seeking-versus-avoidance behavior is so deeply ingrained in us that we almost never think about it. In fact, it's instinctual... we don't have to think about it, because evolution has made it innate in us. We do it naturally. We humans grab for pleasure—sex, food, warmth, comfort—just as an insect does. Similarly, we back off from pain much like a worm or a bear does.

Many philosophers have pondered this pleasure-or-pain phenomenon, and have come up with a wide range of theories and explanations for this behavior. One of the early Enlightenment philosophers to delve into this topic was an oddball Englishman named Jeremy Bentham. He was both a philosopher and a social reformer who founded the school of utilitarianism in the early 1800s. Utilitarianism seeks the “greatest happiness” in the populace—defining happiness as a predominance of pleasure over pain. Bentham was convinced that it is our nature to have the pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of pain literally drive our behavior—that they “govern us in all we do, in all we say, in all we think...”

A couple of millennia before Bentham, the Greek philosopher Epicurus had some of the same ideas. Both he and Bentham felt that a lot of human behavior is driven by our desire to seek pleasure and avoid pain. In fact, Epicurus decided that the very basis of human fulfillment is dependent on our success at finding pleasure.

Unfortunately, the use of the word “pleasure” can be problematic, because it too often carries the connotation of shallow amusement or sensual gratification. Thus Epicureanism came to be associated with hedonism—a misinterpretation that has caused many people to shy away from Epicurus' ideas—especially the more straight-laced Protestants. Neither Bentham nor Epicurus advocated hedonism. So in order to avoid some of the controversy, I think a more appropriate word is happiness, rather than pleasure. We all seek happiness, in the sense that we wish for peace, health, safety, and spiritual fulfillment.

More on Pleasure or Pain next time...