On Criticism Desecrating Itself and the Antidote of Reverence and Wonder
“ I love the great despisers, because they are the great adorers, and arrows of longing for the other shore.” - Friedrich Nietzsche, “Thus Spake Zarathustra”
Criticism is a gift. To assess, provide clear critique, and propose improvements is essential to the cultural and spiritual evolution of humanity, our journey to “the other shore”.
Yet, this gift has the tendency to self-subvert. For many, criticism has become divorced from the discipline/skill of discernment (not cheap or easy to obtain), as well as the challenging construction that prior deconstruction necessitates.
Many of us, at one time or another, have become prone to biting cheaply “with stolen teeth”, and drunkenly “basking in the sunshine of good consciences,---thou cold monsters”, as Nietzche noted in “Thus Spake Zarathustra” .
What we need to reclaim is criticism as a precise instrument and tool in the greater process of transcendence. What we need to denounce is criticism as a spirit of irreverence and iconoclasm.
Karl Marx famously described religion as the “opium of the masses”, dulling the disenfranchised cravings for recourse. Though not unfounded, this statement is emblematic of the dismissive and hostile posture of many progressives, intellectuals, and activists who see all convention as obsolete and obstructive to progress.
The danger here lies in the tendency of other biases and attitudes to stow away amongst valid criticism. Deconstruction often devolves into defamation. Though bringing things to the light will inevitably alter somethings image, solely highlighting unsavory aspects will substitute salience for importance. This eventually manifests amongst many people as a reflexive profaneness, and amongst those who blindly borrow this profaneness, a disturbing “weariness towards hearing what has never truly been heard”, as G.K Chesterton aptly put it.
In secular and academic circles, religion has been not only critiqued but mocked. Though criticism is not always unwarranted, I fear the attitude of this ready criticism springs from false well of understanding or superiority. I fear this irreverence is also sign of a diminished capacity for wonder, and I am deeply concerned by the extinction of wonder. (I’ve written previously on the value of deep curiosity)
Science and the pursuit of truth was never meant to combat or shrink religion or man’s spirit. Carl Sagan, the astronomer and extraordinary science popularizer, said instead,
“In fact a general problem with much of Western theology in my view is that the god portrayed is too small. It is a god of a tiny world and not a God of the galaxy, much less of a universe... I don't propose that it is a virtue to revel in our limitations. But it's important to understand how much we do not know. There is an enormous amount we do not know; there is a tiny amount that we do.” - From “ The Varieties of Scientific Experience”
Two additional quotes from G.K Chesterton and William James, respectively, highlight how much subtle rebranding and the fashions of criticism shape our sentiments towards “religion”, and can be turned back on themselves with some thought:
“It is really far more logical to start by saying 'In the beginning God created heaven and earth' even if you only mean 'In the beginning some unthinkable power began some unthinkable process.' For God is by its nature a name of mystery, and nobody ever supposed that man could imagine how a world was created any more than he could create one. But evolution really is mistaken for explanation. It has the fatal quality of leaving on many minds the impression that they do understand it and everything else; just as many of them live under a sort of illusion that they have read the Origin of Species.
But this notion of something smooth and slow like the ascent of a slope, is a great part of the illusion. It is illogical as well as an illusion; for slowness has really nothing to do with the question. An event is not any more intrinsically intelligible or unintelligible because of the pace at which it moves. For a man who does not believe in a miracle, a slow miracle would be just as incredible as a swift one. The Greek witch may have turned sailors to swine with a stroke of the wand. But to see a naval gentleman of our acquaintance looking a little more like a pig every day, till he ended with four trotters and a curly tail would not be any more soothing. It might be rather more creepy and uncanny. The medieval wizard may have flown through the air from the top of a tower; but to see an old gentleman walking through the air in a leisurely and lounging manner, would still seem to call for some explanation. Yet there runs through all the rationalistic treatment of history this curious and confused idea that difficulty is avoided or even mystery eliminated, by dwelling on mere delay or on something dilatory in the processes of things. There will be something to be said upon particular examples elsewhere; the question here is the false atmosphere of facility and ease given by the mere suggestion of going slow; the sort of comfort that might be given to a nervous old woman traveling for the first time in a motor-car.”
This quote by G.K Chesterton from “The Everlasting Man” highlights the seduction of deferring our uncertainty around big/challenging (perhaps eternal) questions. (PS: as a lover of science, Popper, etc, the above is not arguing against science, rather arguing against false sense of ultimate certainty)
“Religion, whatever it is, is a man’s total reaction upon life, so why not say that any total reaction upon life is a religion? Total reactions are different from casual reactions, and total attitudes are different from usual or professional attitudes. To get at them you must go behind the foreground of existence and reach down to that curious sense of the whole residual cosmos as an everlasting presence, intimate or alien, terrible or amusing, lovable or odious, which in some degree everyone possesses. This sense of the world’s presence, appealing as it does to our peculiar individual temperament, makes us either strenuous or careless, devout or blasphemous, gloomy or exultant, about life at large; and our reaction, involuntary and inarticulate and often half unconscious as it is, is the completest of all our answers to the question, “What is the character of this universe in which we dwell?” It expresses our individual sense of it in the most definite way. Why then not call these reactions our religion, no matter what specific character they may have?”
William James, the renowned psychologist, from “The Varieties of Religious Experience” (his title later inspiring Sagan’s)
These quotes to me are helpful for better self-knowledge. They help us realize we are so often making substitutions with perceived renovations. I think these quotes also help us realize the spaciousness of our blindspots and how there is plenty of room for humility, wonder, and reverence amongst our criticisms, and snarky desecration is not the most tasteful flavor of criticism.
Wonder is both beautiful and confronting. It challenges certainty. It simultaneously invokes impotency and gratitude. I tend to agree with Sagan, Huxley, and company that true wonder is intrinsically, deeply spiritual. This facilitates a greater empathetic towards the many traditional religions (not just trendy, obscure, shamanistic, indigenous paradigms), and desire to understand how its diverse tenets interplay with the complex mess of human history and search for meaning. Any criticism that follows such wonder is bound to be more consummate.
Authors Note: there are countless things not fair, unbalanced, in need of remedy in this world. This is not by any means the most important, but simply a topic that spontaneously popped out at me from a handful of recent readings. I wish I could speak meaningfully on all worthy topics, but I can’t.
