Which thou dost manifest in heaven, in earth,
And in the evil world, how just a meed
Allotting by thy virtue unto all!
No one always tells the truth, and no one always lies. The honest sometimes lie, and liars sometimes tell the truth. Obliged, as it were, to lie, the truly honest only ever lie to serve the truth. Obliged, as it were, to tell the truth, the thorough liars are honest only when it serves their purposes. An honest man makes a lie serve a greater truth, and thereby makes it true. The honest lie to serve the truth, and liars speak the truth to serve themselves.
It is difficult to lie well. If observed carefully, even a good lie exposes itself as the liar feebly, awkwardly transitions back to telling the real truth. The most successful liars lie all the time; it is only in this way that they sidestep the awkward transitions that are dead giveaways. But eventually, they must speak a truth, and may succeed in that only by making honesty into deception. The truly honest do just the opposite, and make deception into honesty.
Within society, there exists a wide range of mental refinement and astuteness of observation, with the strange and unfortunate corollary that there is no quick and easy way to distinguish the sharp-witted from the crass. One must therefore devise certain universal tests to quickly and reliably separate those who are observant and discerning in thought from the more common and plain-thinking folk.
Let it be known: those who are most wealthy are not the most refined, and those most poor are not the most undignified. Similarly, there is no such generality regarding the development of one's judgment and discernment according to occupation, culture or gender. Character is found within, seemingly free from the determining circumstances of one's life. Thus, it is only by the cultivation of one's own judgment that one grows discerning of the character of others, and only by developing one's own virtues that the virtues of others are revealed.
Within society, all rough edges must be smoothed over, and all conflicts given to resolution. One cannot have open conflict in civil society or it would not be civil, and hence cease to be society. Society is a self-refining process. As it works upon itself, all of its constituent social relations become smoother, just as the ocean churns rocks against stone to form sand.
What purpose does this process of social leveling serve? In smoothing over the rough edges of the social relations we are engaged in, what is gained, and for whom? With humanity in mind, we could appeal to society itself as the centralizing moral context. Perhaps the process of socialization we each undergo is done by and for the sake of society itself, as piece and part of its endless drive toward self-preservation and perpetuation.
But in our everyday lives we are rarely ever motivated to serve such lofty, impractical goals for themselves alone. Generally, the more abstract the motivation, the less motivating it is. All people are simple people, and are motivated most effectively by what is closest and most personally relevant.
So we must ask: what do we have at stake in society, and what vested interest do we have in its goings-on? For its sake, shall we allow ourselves to be beaten against each other like so much rocks, to be averaged out and dissolved into infinitesimal, nearly-identical grains of sand? Or do we rage out against the very tides which toss us hither and thither, in vain and dire hope to somehow escape our total social immersion, that we may wash up whole and safe on some distant, unknown shore?
Life is a game. Like all games, there are players, and the players contend against each other in the pursuit of victory. The players are clear, and which side they play for well-defined. There are rules for the movement of pieces, and certain conditions for victory.
But in this game we are not the players. We are the pieces. It is a strange game, because the pieces are given choices of their own to make. We have agency. We are not simply moved, but so too do we move ourselves. The players create the conditions for our moving, then place bets on the outcome.
In this way, our game resembles others that incorporate autonomous, willing pieces, like cock fighting, gladiatorial combat, or horse racing. But even in its similarities to these, our game stands apart. In the aforementioned examples, the autonomous piece acts as an avatar of the player. When a bettor's horse wins, the bettor wins; the horse has become an extension of her will to power and its triumphant spirit.
In life, which side a piece plays for shifts dynamically throughout the course of play. It is this way because of the unusual nature of the players and of the game. In most games, there is no inherent difference between one side and another. It is decided arbitrarily, not because the players are in themselves different beasts, but because there cannot be a game without opposition. In this, the conflicts created and observed in games are always trivial. This also applies to games taken very seriously, like war. The conflict is created to serve the game. In life, it is the opposite. The game is created to serve the conflict.
If we are the pieces in this game, who are the players? They must stand outside of the confines of the game-world, and be theoretically capable of walking away from play. Could it be that ours is a cosmic game of good and evil, with God and his angels on one side, Lucifer and his demonic horde on the other? Of this, we can never be certain. What does the pawn know of the player? What does the bishop know, but his possibilities for movement on the chessboard? If our world is a game-world, and our lives the movements of pieces on a board, we cannot get very far into knowing the nature of the players themselves, which stand ever past our reach, outside the realm of play.
Although the players are not confined to the game-world, their presence is felt and seen throughout the course of play. Just as one can infer the presence of the winds from the movement of leaves, so too do we infer the presence of players from the way in which we, the pieces, are moved. In keeping with a comparison by contrast, I would like to suggest that the players are those ideas which we mistake for our own - those ideas to which we ourselves belong. Truly, we are possessed by our ideas. It was the greatest trick our ideas ever played, to convince us that they were our children, and not we theirs.
If we are not the players but the pieces, if we do not move but instead are moved, does it necessarily follow that we are each only victims and unaccountable for our actions? If our ideas possess us, are they not ultimately responsible for what we do and have done?
Throughout history, many have committed great atrocities in the name of a higher truth, claiming their doings were merely the will of a single transcendental idea. These monsters would wear a set of lofty ideals as armor to guard against the full dread weight of their responsibility, which allowed them to perpetuate ever more and greater atrocities against the mass of humanity. Looking through history and experience, it is clear that the evasion of responsibility is anathema to the ultimate well-being of man. As pieces endowed with a vital will to power, we must believe we are responsible for ourselves - even if the truth is otherwise.
The truth is we are driven in ways far more manifold than our minds can simultaneously perceive. The ideas we serve are not merely those which occupy our thoughts; they are those forces which shape the very coming of the world. Many times the movements of the players can only be clearly discerned after a very long time. Sometimes they never come clearly into focus. Therefore, mind not the words of each person in determining their role in the game. Their words and thoughts are also mere movements of a piece in play, and do not even begin to approach a legitimately macroscopic vantage point for ours, the infinite game.
Canto XXVIII
"Nothing is so difficult as not deceiving oneself."
Wittgenstein, Culture and Value
No one always tells the truth, and no one always lies. The honest sometimes lie, and liars sometimes tell the truth. Obliged, as it were, to lie, the truly honest only ever lie to serve the truth. Obliged, as it were, to tell the truth, the thorough liars are honest only when it serves their purposes. An honest man makes a lie serve a greater truth, and thereby makes it true. The honest lie to serve the truth, and liars speak the truth to serve themselves.
It is difficult to lie well. If observed carefully, even a good lie exposes itself as the liar feebly, awkwardly transitions back to telling the real truth. The most successful liars lie all the time; it is only in this way that they sidestep the awkward transitions that are dead giveaways. But eventually, they must speak a truth, and may succeed in that only by making honesty into deception. The truly honest do just the opposite, and make deception into honesty.
Canto XXIX
"...it is because I cannot see what you see that I can see at all."
Carse, Finite and Infinite Games
Within society, there exists a wide range of mental refinement and astuteness of observation, with the strange and unfortunate corollary that there is no quick and easy way to distinguish the sharp-witted from the crass. One must therefore devise certain universal tests to quickly and reliably separate those who are observant and discerning in thought from the more common and plain-thinking folk.
Let it be known: those who are most wealthy are not the most refined, and those most poor are not the most undignified. Similarly, there is no such generality regarding the development of one's judgment and discernment according to occupation, culture or gender. Character is found within, seemingly free from the determining circumstances of one's life. Thus, it is only by the cultivation of one's own judgment that one grows discerning of the character of others, and only by developing one's own virtues that the virtues of others are revealed.
Canto XXX
"Round, righteous, and kind they are to each other, round like grains of sand, righteous and kind with grains of sand.... Virtue to them is that which makes modest and tame: with that they have turned the wolf into a dog and man himself into man's best domestic animal."
Nietzsche, Thus Spake Zarathustra
What purpose does this process of social leveling serve? In smoothing over the rough edges of the social relations we are engaged in, what is gained, and for whom? With humanity in mind, we could appeal to society itself as the centralizing moral context. Perhaps the process of socialization we each undergo is done by and for the sake of society itself, as piece and part of its endless drive toward self-preservation and perpetuation.
But in our everyday lives we are rarely ever motivated to serve such lofty, impractical goals for themselves alone. Generally, the more abstract the motivation, the less motivating it is. All people are simple people, and are motivated most effectively by what is closest and most personally relevant.
So we must ask: what do we have at stake in society, and what vested interest do we have in its goings-on? For its sake, shall we allow ourselves to be beaten against each other like so much rocks, to be averaged out and dissolved into infinitesimal, nearly-identical grains of sand? Or do we rage out against the very tides which toss us hither and thither, in vain and dire hope to somehow escape our total social immersion, that we may wash up whole and safe on some distant, unknown shore?
Canto XXXI
"La plus belle des ruses du diable est de vous persuader qu'il n'existe pas."
Charles Baudelaire, Le Spleen de Paris
Life is a game. Like all games, there are players, and the players contend against each other in the pursuit of victory. The players are clear, and which side they play for well-defined. There are rules for the movement of pieces, and certain conditions for victory.
But in this game we are not the players. We are the pieces. It is a strange game, because the pieces are given choices of their own to make. We have agency. We are not simply moved, but so too do we move ourselves. The players create the conditions for our moving, then place bets on the outcome.
In this way, our game resembles others that incorporate autonomous, willing pieces, like cock fighting, gladiatorial combat, or horse racing. But even in its similarities to these, our game stands apart. In the aforementioned examples, the autonomous piece acts as an avatar of the player. When a bettor's horse wins, the bettor wins; the horse has become an extension of her will to power and its triumphant spirit.
In life, which side a piece plays for shifts dynamically throughout the course of play. It is this way because of the unusual nature of the players and of the game. In most games, there is no inherent difference between one side and another. It is decided arbitrarily, not because the players are in themselves different beasts, but because there cannot be a game without opposition. In this, the conflicts created and observed in games are always trivial. This also applies to games taken very seriously, like war. The conflict is created to serve the game. In life, it is the opposite. The game is created to serve the conflict.
If we are the pieces in this game, who are the players? They must stand outside of the confines of the game-world, and be theoretically capable of walking away from play. Could it be that ours is a cosmic game of good and evil, with God and his angels on one side, Lucifer and his demonic horde on the other? Of this, we can never be certain. What does the pawn know of the player? What does the bishop know, but his possibilities for movement on the chessboard? If our world is a game-world, and our lives the movements of pieces on a board, we cannot get very far into knowing the nature of the players themselves, which stand ever past our reach, outside the realm of play.
Although the players are not confined to the game-world, their presence is felt and seen throughout the course of play. Just as one can infer the presence of the winds from the movement of leaves, so too do we infer the presence of players from the way in which we, the pieces, are moved. In keeping with a comparison by contrast, I would like to suggest that the players are those ideas which we mistake for our own - those ideas to which we ourselves belong. Truly, we are possessed by our ideas. It was the greatest trick our ideas ever played, to convince us that they were our children, and not we theirs.
If we are not the players but the pieces, if we do not move but instead are moved, does it necessarily follow that we are each only victims and unaccountable for our actions? If our ideas possess us, are they not ultimately responsible for what we do and have done?
Throughout history, many have committed great atrocities in the name of a higher truth, claiming their doings were merely the will of a single transcendental idea. These monsters would wear a set of lofty ideals as armor to guard against the full dread weight of their responsibility, which allowed them to perpetuate ever more and greater atrocities against the mass of humanity. Looking through history and experience, it is clear that the evasion of responsibility is anathema to the ultimate well-being of man. As pieces endowed with a vital will to power, we must believe we are responsible for ourselves - even if the truth is otherwise.
The truth is we are driven in ways far more manifold than our minds can simultaneously perceive. The ideas we serve are not merely those which occupy our thoughts; they are those forces which shape the very coming of the world. Many times the movements of the players can only be clearly discerned after a very long time. Sometimes they never come clearly into focus. Therefore, mind not the words of each person in determining their role in the game. Their words and thoughts are also mere movements of a piece in play, and do not even begin to approach a legitimately macroscopic vantage point for ours, the infinite game.
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