Lovers of Dirt
Wile in cathedrals
The atheist
Dares claim
The title
Of mass debater
As little comes
From behind the veil
That doesn’t exist
In the slightest
Hint elect
To believe
Methods to their madness
Seemingly beyond approach
However rue derangement
Identifying any genus
By its feces
So commonly specious
In its origins
By means
Naturally selective
Preserving favored races
In the struggle
For life
As fashioned
From flights of fancy
For the birds
In plain English
Triggering an evolution
Of rapacious masculinity
Vanquishing femininity
As it sees fit
Too survive
And nothing more
As awe is derived
As so much
Ground Chuck
No longer
A yin without a yang
A homme with only half a story
In tell gents design
New ways of poker
Without reason
Fueling themselves
With fantasies
Of being porn again
Any come hither looks
Reduced to contrivance
Goddesses none
Any go whither looks
Annunciating to the world
A piece of class
A coy that must be played with
Bastards and bitches all
Wed to nothing but progeny
Incesting that the best demands it
Endless reproductions
Preying for deviant genes
To a god of chance
Just for the novelty of it
Tails you win
Heads you lose
Either way
Stuck only
By wieners and losers
How fare
Abet
Between fancy pants
And the un-gaudy
Next to uncleanliness
Soully lovers of dirt
However complicated
This poem is a commentary on atheism, evolution, and gender. Of any belief group in America, those unaffiliated with religion are the most male, 60%. As much as religion may be a problem for women, it seems that lack of religion is even less attractive. If reproduction is the key to human evolution, then perhaps unbelieving men should pay attention to the keyholes. Both atheism and evolution often strike me as dominated by male pattern balledness. Reducing human evolution to sexual reproduction strikes me as some form of porn, a way to partner sterile abstract thinking with screwing, an unproductive mating of reductionistic thought and base sexual impulses.
I find the conundrums of atheism well captured in this poem’s title: Lovers of Dirt. Atheism may be the most poorly equipped belief, or disbelief, system to deal with love. Perhaps because God is love. For whatever reason, atheists cannot bring themselves to believe in God, fortunately, I have met many who quest for love. This poem is partly inspired by a conversation I had with a fellow protester outside the Toledo federal courthouse, when we were protesting corporate personhood, as promoted and reinforced by the U.S. Supreme Court’s ruling in Citizens United. This man was clearly offended by considering corporations on the same level as humans, and willing to hit the street to make that point. In the course of our conversation, it became clear that he was an atheist. He could clearly tell the difference between the legal fiction of corporate personhood and actual human personhood. However, he could not articulate the difference between people and dirt. A parently, people are simply complicated dirt. This claim to be able to make higher level distinctions while being unable to make lower level distinctions seems to strike at the ultimate heartlessness of atheism.
Maybe there are other forms of atheism, but I have found this creep of distinctionless infecting virtually every atheist with which I have ever had a conversation. Now don’t get me wrong, while I don’t believe in atheism, I do believe in atheists, certainly inasmuch as they embody love. Plus, I am a big fan of distinctionlessness. However, I view distinctionlessness as a spiritual aspect of reality, by definition outside the realm of science which only deals with distinctions. Distinctionlessness might be cited as unity consciousness, the oneness of all reality (which includes consciousness). Now, to give props to John Paul Sartre, the great atheist existentialist, and author of Being and Nothingness, he might consider distinctionlessness to be represented by nothing. Sartre dealt in-depth trying to explain the structure of consciousness which necessitated a relationship with nothingness, a perilous journey where we are reduced to alternating between subject and object. I am a subject and you are an object of my subjectivity. Then, you are a subject and I am an object of your subjectivity. And never the twain shall meet. Ad inifinitum! Perhaps not surprisingly, Sartre was famous for saying, “Hell is other people.” (see No Exit, a one-act play). According to Sartre, other people, in the experience of subjectivity, must reduce others to objects. Sartre believed that there can only be NO connection between subjects, no underlying unity. I am at a loss how Sartre can even claim that other subjects exist, if he can only experience them as objects!? Of course, this self-contradictory assertion is the basis for his atheism. In this case, God would be Subject with a capital S. The logic goes like this: if God existed, we would experience God as an object, and since there is no convincing evidence that such an object exists, then God does not exist. Of course, this same logic, applied to other humans, would necessitate concluding that other people (if you can call them that) don’t exist as subjects. These are the foolish places that highly rational and completely unreasonable men end up. Except Sartre was not a fool. He acknowledged that other subjects existed — only that these subjects existed outside his experience! He could only experience their objectively ghostly apparitions masquerading as subjects, and occasional buyers of his books. By beginning with an assumption of nothingness, he ends up with much, much, much, much, much less than if he had begun with an assumption of somethingness. Both are assumptions, mere propositions or assertions.
Descartes launched modern Western philosophy off with “I think therefore I am,” taking existence as evidence against nonexistent. Simple but compelling. Sartre breaks this tradition in a striking way, he appears compelled by nothingness, nonexistence, perhaps quite appropriately, for no apparent reason. By Sarte’s same logic and assumptions critiquing God’s Subjective existence, Sartre could just as easily made a profoundly good theist had he only explored the logical sequence of knowledge unveiled by allowing that just another subject may exist, another Subject may exist. This seems a great leap of faith to some. How could you equate little old me, a subject with a lowercase s, on the same par as God, a Subject with a capital S?! Yet, this is exactly what Sartre did with his chosen path. By Sartre’s own logic and apparent experience, he is the only subject that exists! If there is only one subject, then this is the closest to God one can expect. Sartre had no basis for distinguishing between a subject with a lowercase s and a Subject with an uppercase S. Sartre was God! And God is dead!! Case closed — and it was a very cold case! This should come as little surprise, that God was so little. When being must have a relationship with nothing in order to generate consciousness, subjectivity is necessarily imprisoned: condemned to be free; with nothing to ground its being. Now, to be fair, Sartre has nothing to stand upon. By claiming that it was the relationship to nothing that generated consciousness, the breath of subjectivity, he allowed other subjects to exist (spookily as God allows). All you have to do is believe in nothing. How hard could that be? Except that the other ethereal pillar holding up Sartre’s world is that nothing can be the ground of our being. So, our being comes from nothingness. Is this magic less objectionable than our being coming from somethingness? I would agree that God is a no thing, in that the fullness of God, what God IS, cannot be ascertained from studying objective things, anymore than the fullness of human subjects can be understood by simply studying their junk.
In my book, Sartre should have devoted his keen intellect to a masterpiece call Being and Somethingness. In studying Sartre’s Being and Nothingness in my college existentialism class, what I most keenly remember is a footnote, and perhaps the only ultimate foothold in my book. This footnote stated that his arguments did not preclude the possibility of hope, but that his purpose was not to explore that possibility. This existential choice on his part left his work despairing. John Paul Sartre was intellectually clever and outside of his formal philosophy, in real life, fought to be compassionate to others, though chronically despairing and doubting that he could ever really connect with them as fully human. Perhaps Sartre’s greatest distinction is how well his worldview resonated with those cynical enough to be satisfied with studying the nooks, crannies, and shadows of this deeply pessimistic, foundationless-yet-sold-as-foundational worldview. He created a lifetime of available preoccupation in his self-proclaimed hell. And if there truly is no exit from this deadly state of affairs, aspiring to screw some less cruelly than others; then, being right will have to serve as a poor substitute for happiness. Religion will be reduced to self-fulfilling prophets. Humanity will never graduate from preoccupation to the much harder vocation of bringing hope to an obviously hurting world. Hope requires the study of human nature, of which Sartre is so absolutely skeptical, even of its existence. Such absolute skepticism begs for a different perspective, in that it worships subjectivity, our apparent ability to will one thing over another, either assenting to or rejecting preconditions. Sartre aspired to build the slimmest possible precipice from which to perch looming subjectivity, a philosophy with as few assumptions as possible, resting on as narrow an objectivity as possible. But rather than finding a holy grail, he found himself, and apparently the whole world, on a throne of spears. This creates perhaps the largest overreach possible in underestimating both objective reality and subjective reality. Unity consciousness is the oneness of all reality, which includes consciousness. Sartre’s arena was human consciousness, and declining to leave that arena, shortchanged the fullness of reality. His reality lifts human consciousness beyond its ken. Though he was perhaps within grasp of an occasional barbie — no offense to Simone de Beauvoir, his lifelong lover, to whom one day while they were sitting on a bench outside the Louvre, said, “Let’s sign a two-year lease.” They never married. Near the end of her life, de Beauvoir said, “Marriage was impossible. I had no dowry.” In fact, there was no dowry that could cover the deficit in Sartre’s worldview. Sartre’s reality became, through his own volition, human consciousness married to nothing, and no divorce laws. His denial is nearly unfathomable. His consciousness only unifies with reality in some zombie apocalypse fashion — which seems enduringly fashionable for some reason. Sartre strips objective reality of any subjectivity but his own, except for those ghostly apparitions (that would be you) who are condemned to walk the earth, a living hell, negating his subjectivity with a moments notice. His justice: he returns the favor, jousting with lifelike windmills. This farcical, impossible dream, leaves Sartre riding his knight mare in a one horse town. His reward: he is the grand marshal and sole entrant in this ludicrous parade. Though quite miraculously, Sartre ends up joining an elite pantheon of self-fulfilling prophets of epic disproportions.
I can see how many people are deeply reluctant to believe in God. What I find much more difficult to understand is people’s deep commitment to disallowing for even the possibility of God. In other words, agnosticism seems justified (though a bit indecisive), whereas atheists must take on a mantle of hubris unbecoming to open minds and open hearts. Sartre proclaims that there is no exit in a house that he built with no doors! In the end, using Sartre’s arguments against God, the Subject with a capital S, one must argue against subjectivity itself, all subjectivity. It is to this that I object! Sartre built an inhospitable house, a testament to his objectivity (or testament to his lack of subjectivity), and he has nothing to blame. By leveling subjectivity, he finds, least of all, himself. Not by humility, but by hubris. And from nowhere comes a call, “Philosopher heal thyself!” Yet, the great metaphysician, Jesus also begged the question of the physician healing thyself. Jesus is recounted to have said in Luke 4:18-28 (NIV), in launching his public ministry, by quoting the prophet Isaiah:
“The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him. He began by saying to them, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his lips. “Isn’t this Joseph’s son?” they asked. Jesus said to them, “Surely you will quote this proverb to me: ‘Physician, heal yourself!’ And you will tell me, ‘Do here in your hometown what we have heard that you did in Capernaum.’” “Truly I tell you,” he continued, “no prophet is accepted in his hometown. I assure you that there were many widows in Israel in Elijah’s time, when the sky was shut for three and a half years and there was a severe famine throughout the land. Yet Elijah was not sent to any of them, but to a widow in Zarephath in the region of Sidon. And there were many in Israel with leprosy in the time of Elisha the prophet, yet not one of them was cleansed — only Naaman the Syrian.” All the people in the synagogue were furious when they heard this.
People are lazy enough to want miracles. Some just want to be entertained enough to provide a break in their existential ennui. A rarer few are happy being unhappy. Jesus’ hometown crowd called for him to reproduce for them the miraculous events that they had heard transpired elsewhere. Surely he would put on an even better show for the hometown crowd, they thought. When Jesus implied that his prophetic acts would not get any traction amongst this hometown crowd, accurately citing history, the crowd got pissed. They bypassed the good news and didn’t even get a good carny show out of it!
Interestingly, the crowd was incredulous even when the heard good news — “All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his lips” — asking “Isn’t this Joseph’s son?” You remember, that snot-nosed kid who used to run around here some years back. And we all know about Joseph, don’t we? They just couldn’t believe that such good news and authority could be present in one from such humble and ordinary beginnings. Jesus made it clear that enlightenment or salvation cannot just be handed to someone like an everyday object, miraculous relic, or even apprehended through the world’s best philosophy. In Jesus’ story of the rich man and Lazarus, where the condemned rich man upon his death and agony wants a heavenly message sent to his sons on earth, so that they might be saved, he is told: “If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.” (Luke 16:21) The good news that Jesus proclaimed was to the poor, not the “successful” in society who have mastered the conventional wisdom. Jesus proclaimed that freedom for the prisoners is possible, and that recovery of sight for the blind is possible, that setting the oppressed free is possible. The miraculous is not concerned with overturning the impossible, but with the possible not yet manifest. This is the realm of faith and hope. This is the realm that Jesus calls us into. Some hear this and are deeply moved. Some hear this as a carnival barker. Some more recalcitrant few hear this as a carnival barker who never even existed! There are few problems that denial won’t solve, eh?
I think that Sartre’s cynicism ultimately lies in this fact that you can’t force people to be enlightened. Jesus understood this. Sartre knew that our choices literally create meaning by placing value behind some actions and not others, all within the realm of the possible. Jesus understood this. Unfortunately, Sartre neutered himself when it came to the realm of the possible, the worst form of self emasculation, with militant atheism — which ironically seems much more popular among men. The attraction to overt force and militancy seems more hegemonic among men. Though please note that I don’t think that spirituality is better suited or more fully manifest according to gender. Nonetheless, I do think that there are specific forms of foolishness that are predominantly occupied by men. The same goes for women; but that’s another story…
I commend Sartre for trying to tackle the immeasurable perplexity of the relationship of objectivity and subjectivity. Such a task should vex even the greatest minds, of which I consider Sartre among.
Atheists typically claim to be concerned solely with science. Fair enough. Science is about understanding and manipulating the outside “objective” world, the visible, measurable world which makes the world more conducive to usefulness, or better means to some end. Spirituality is about understanding and experiencing the subjective world, the oft invisible, oft immeasurable, typically elusive world conducive to elucidating what are good ends and worthy states of being. What unkind of world could we possibly expect if we studied only the ways to get places but refused to ponder the full range of places or states of being which are better to move toward?
The study of subjectivity includes understanding ourselves, others, and at least offering a shot at discovering or understanding God, if such a present manifests at any time. The legitimate existence of metaphysics, the area of study beyond the physical world measurable by reductionistic science, surprisingly to some, is not really controversial amongst professional philosophers. Of course, in the ever-changing, heated climate of rampant spirituality, there are always some climate change deniers in the crowd. In the end, reducing the transcendent or spiritual nature of subjective existence to mere objectivity — i.e., humans are complicated dirt, nothing more — is amputating half of one’s existence, and the only half that can ascertain which is the “better” half (which is the one that can make us whole).
To advance metaphysics we must ponder other subjects – you, me, and even God. Harkening back to the discussion of distinctionlessness, atheists with which I have conversed, seem to be pulled back to distinctionlessness. I would like to draw a distinction between two forms of distinctionlessness. There is the ground zero of distinctionlessness that atheists default to, apparently in the face of nothingness, the abyss. This casts a pall over any ability to discern good from evil, or to carve out any solid ground for our subjective being, even going so far as to doubt whether others or oneself even exist (as a subject), let alone whether God exists! I contrast this with unity consciousness which is present in the oneness of all reality, which happens to encompass consciousness. I think that this distinctionlessness of unity consciousness is a fuller representation of reality than the atheist existentialism a la Sartre. Oneness can only be present with consciousness because if consciousness was not encompassed, then consciousness would be separate, and there would be two disconnected realities, not one. If these two disconnected realities seem familiar, it might be because they are eerily parallel to Sartre’s alienating description of alternating subject-object, object-subject relationships between so-called subjects — more like objects masquerading as subjects. Sartre cleverly avoids the problem of two separate realities by defining nothingness as one of the two disconnected realities. Many people might be willing to agree that nothing is not separate from our one reality, which seems somewhat different than saying nothing is separate from our one reality. This clever configuration jury-rigs the vexing question of something coming from nothing. Recall that Sartre views consciousness, a necessary aspect of subjectiveness, as arising from nothingness. Or put somewhat differently, subjects are dependent on nothing. So which makes more sense: subjects are dependent on nothing OR subjects are dependent on something? If subjects are dependent on nothing, then they should have no constrains on their freedom. Deeply ironic, if Sartre is correct that a subject is dependent on nothing, then he has accurately described God! Further, he has described a monotheistic God, because there could not be two absolutely free God’s operating in the same reality without clashing and limiting each other’s freedom. Back to human-scale experience, I don’t think that any sane person would claim that their freedom is dependent on nothing. Clearly, any coherent account of human experience testifies that human freedom is bounded, dependent on something. If subjects are dependent on something, then an accurate account of reality must include a description of Being and Something, not simply Being and Nothingness. Of course, existentialist thinkers following Sartre claimed that subjects could actually meet, dare I say, without distinction. So, the limitations on our freedoms could arise from other subjects (as well as from objects).
But could Sartre be correct? Yes, if you expect to learn the full truth from an incomplete truth that is factually accurate. No, if you consider half a picture the full picture. I think that Sartre is a freaking genius, and that his facts are correct. Of course, I take some of this on faith, since he was wicked smart, perhaps too smart for his own good! After all my critical analysis and occasional mocking, I will say that Sartre had all his facts right, he just didn’t have all the facts, or the full truth.
Like I enjoy saying, “Truth lies in the neighborhood of paradox.” There is a persistently perplexing dualism present in human contemplations of reality. I think that Sartre nailed down half of this dualism. On one hand, the nailing down of hard facts was old-school, meaning it was completely consistent with the 400-plus year tradition of the enlightenment and the chain of progress that is Western civilization (as distinct from the contributions of the ancients). On the other hand, his intellectual work was cutting edge and timely, even before its time. Seriously, he was working with NOTHING! This anchored the accomplishments of the enlightenment in a new way. Of course, for those ultimately not happy with his militant focus, it could be viewed as the last nail in the coffin that is postmodernism. I think that the answer illuminating the full truth involves pursuing both-and answers rather than only either-or answers. In this light, I would slightly restate an earlier proposition: I don’t think that any sane person would claim that their freedom is ONLY dependent on nothing. Sartre was ahead of his time, and prescient of modern quantum physics, which has shed light on nothingness. In quantum physics, particles arise out of nothing, seemingly independent, though subject to probabilistic behavior when viewed as waves. And the best answer we have about which state of affairs is true is: both. Subatomic physical behavior is best described as both waves and particles. This answer, which is as perplexing as the original question, rests on the fact that it depends on how you look at it. Literally, observing something changes it. Conscious awareness affects reality in predictable ways (that is, probabilistic). Translating this into our larger discussion, the freedom present in human consciousness arises from BOTH nothing AND something. Possibilities collapse into specific actualities based on our observation and intent.
To be fair to Sartre, I’d like to think that had he lived much longer (he died in 1980), he may have been able to incorporate some insights from modern physics into his worldview. However, the wisdom of the ancients was available to him. As Jesus pointed out, witnessing miracles won’t necessarily make someone a better, more whole human being. The power of skepticism and cynicism is strong.
Sartre was correct: Hell is other people. But, Sartre was only half correct, for: Heaven is other people. If you can relax your skepticism and cynicism enough, you may just find that others are both your curse AND salvation, which is way better than being mirrorly a curse. Jesus was a teacher of all subjects. When Jesus was asked, “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” (Matthew 22:36-40, NIV) Attention all self-fulfilling prophets: seek and you shall find — but, if at first you don’t find, keep seeking…many subjects await you…and perhaps only one…
