The Death of Why?

The absence of interest in a purpose for our existence

By Gregory Stephens-North

"The unexamined life is not worth living" - attributed to Socrates, 5^th Century BCE

"The world is my world." - Wittgenstein, 20^th Century CE

***************************

Whatever happened to why?

By Gregory Stephens-North

Wherever did "why?" go?

A question that once interested us so,

We seem to ask it no more,

As if we had forgotten what why was for.

If mayhap you see it come by,

Please to inquire regarding its absence: why?

***************************

When was the last time we had a great debate, asking ourselves as a culture, why do we do what we do?

Hell, when was the last time you really asked yourself: "Why do I do what I do?"

We today have little time for these questions. Though this is not endemic to the human condition, it is a readily understandable state of affairs considering all that we have been through.

It is not, however, one that should be maintained.

How we got here is clear.

The "why" question is as old as human experience. The question "why" arose from a biological necessity: the need to subdue a sense of futility. If we as a species got hung up on the fact that we are all going to die, we might not make it. So, we needed answers to the BIG WHYS, and readily supplied them. Answering the question was first a role of religion, then the realm of philosophy. The answers we have supplied over the millennia have ranged from "God’s will," to "natural law" to "because" to" don’t bother asking."

Somewhere along the way, it seems to me, we did. Stop asking, that is. We lost interest.

For some, it became polite to believe that there were no right answers to the WHY questions. A right answer to one would offend another. If nothing else, it would take you down a path where there were no good answers. Why are some poor and others rich? Don’t ask. Why is working so late that you do not have time to be with the family you are supporting a good idea? Don’t ask. Why do so many people alive today believe in life after death when there is no evidence to support it? Again, don’t ask.

For others, it was our experience of what happened when we thought we had answers that turned us off to "why." We came to own those answers so dearly, they were so much a part of who we were, that we fought countless wars because "ours" differed from "theirs." We justified the enslavement or eradication of whole peoples based on our sense of mission. Civilizations marched towards their own ends, which justified their often-horrifying means. Certainly right up to World War II, perhaps well into the Cold War, we continued to speak of our myriad manifest destinies, providing context to our oft conflicted world, justifying our many sacrifices, explaining why we deserved more than they, or descrying why we had less than them. Then, we seemed to lose heart, too much rubble, too many dead bodies, too many ideologies tried and found guilty of mass destruction or misdirection, too many programs failing to yield their forecasted improvements.

For the academically inclined, it was the futility of why questions. They were, you see, quite a philosophical dead end, their answers so dependent upon the frame of reference or the interpretation of language used in their statement as to make their solutions null in semantic value to others. Keep your why questions to yourself, many twentieth century philosophers seemed to say and your answers too!

For the rest, why questions were just something we did not get around to…We were either to busy making a living to make much of life OR we were too busy chanting the meanings we had learned from our elders to wonder what they really meant to us.

It was not as if there was nothing left to understand. The world seemed to be in a constant state of change, moving faster and faster, providing us with incessant opportunities to comment upon it. But our running commentary was elevator music, something to occupy the time between floors. There was little in it that suggested a need for real understanding. Underneath this was our sense of time. We spoke of the then and now and the very near future. We no longer spoke much of our future, of where we were going.

Where are we going? We do not seem to know and, to me at least, we no longer seem to care.

We just are. This is understandable. We are numb, a numbness brought on by a combination of information overload and societal overexertion. We are collectively tired of trying to make sense of the world. We are turned off by our historical actions that flowed from our attempts to act on heartfelt beliefs.

For many of us why is dead and that is for us, perhaps unconsciously, good.

Should we mourn this death of why? Perhaps not, as without it we are cleansed of the need for metaphysical self-justification. We are left with what is and that is that. Get on with it, as they say. We are back to where we began, looking up at the stars at night and wondering what the weather will be like tomorrow. There is a simplicity and acceptance here that brings to mind the words of Lao-tse: "Oftentimes, one regards one's life without passion, in order to see the Secret of Life." I need that peace, at times, not so focused on what will come, what I will or will not do by the time my brief time here is done. We all do.

For me, though, I think we need to take a deep breath after our decades long respite from meaningfulness and get back to work. Asking why again with earnest may have some very profound effects. It may renew our sense of behavior over time. It may have us wondering how what we are doing now relates to what we might be experiencing later. Why questions are vector questions. One cannot have a reason without selecting a direction. Answers suggest orientation.

Yes, we cannot be sure our answers are right.

Yes, our past experience of what happens when we think we have the answers is not good.

Yes, the world is changing so fast and there is so much of it that it often defies comprehension, let alone direction.

But, what is the alternative, to keep our heads down, eyes glued to the speedometer, holding tightly to the wheel - as if to suggest we were in control - while our vehicle speeds on to…well wherever it is going? That is fatalism I cannot abide, suggesting our car no longer needs a driver. The metal's movement would be enough. Is that how you drive? If so, I hope for you very wide highways leading no where in particular on which there are no other cars.

For the rest of us, let us again ask where this car we call our world is going and why.