Halloween Philosophy
The idea for this presentation came about one year what I was teaching at the University of Miami and the Philosophy Club there asked if I could give an informal presentation. I said that I’d be delighted. As it was close to Halloween, they then asked if I could give it a “Halloween spin.” “Halloween Philosophy?” I asked. “Certainly not! … Well, then again maybe...”
Actually, it did give me an opportunity to explore two topics of interest to me:
- how belief in Occult Phenomena requires a peculiar and particular set of metaphysical and epistemological commitments, and
- how philosophy and philosophical assumptions/presumptions undergird all our thinking, even how we approach something as “un-esoteric” as Horror Movies.
Now the second one I have more to say about later, time permitting. But let me start right in of the first.
To begin I want to make clear the kind of movies and stories I have in mind. When I refer to Horror movies, I don’t have in mind slasher films and gore-fests. They turn as much on the “startle: phenomenon as on genuine fear. And even fear evoked is something other than the eerie dead that I want to examine here. What I have in mind might well involve slashing and gore, but it is not these elements that define the genre. I have as examples typical Halloween fare stories and movies populated by witches, ghosts, vampires, Frankenstein, etc. The Halloween costume top sellers year after year, only occasionally being bumped from the top ten by Buzz Lightyear or Spiderman.
The movies within this group share certain “Philosophical Orientations,” orientations without which you could not really understand the movie. They form the background beliefs, a paradigm if you will, that equip you to follow the plot.
Let me be more specific:
Mind/Body Dualism
The first really prevalent motif in these Horror Movies is what philosophers call “Mind/Body Dualism.” Put simply this is the idea that the mind is one thing, and the body is something else. Further, it is the belief that, even if I should destroy your body, your mind might survive anyway. Many who hold this view identify the mind with one’s immaterial soul. And note that this soul seems transplantable.
Now on this view, “you” are “your soul;” you are NOT identical with your body.[1] So a demon might possess your body, do all sort of terrible things, but that wouldn’t be “you” really who did those things. It’s your body, sure enough, but it’s not “you.” Similarly, you (i.e. your soul) could get put into some other body, or into a jar or a box or a clock or not put anywhere at all for that matter.[2]
I recall one scene, in Exorcist III I think, where a demon came to earth by possessing the body of an executed serial killer. He took possession of this body shortly after the killer had been executed because, as the demon explained, the only way a spirit like him can interact with and affect anything in the physical realm would be to use a body. But he went on to explain that this was no easy task, since the body had already started to decay before he took possession of it. So, before he could make the body work and go out and commit all sorts of mischief, he needed to rebuild this guy’s brain. So he began the painstaking process of rebuilding the brain … (anyone see the problem here?)
This raises the philosophical problem with Mind/Body Dualism
call “Interactionism.” If the body is
material and the soul is immaterial, then how could the two possibly interact? Why should it be that when my soul says “lift
my right arm” my right arm (usually) goes up?
Why should it be that when my body drinks beer, my mind gets drunk? Rene Descartes was an advocate of Mind/Body dualism, but was aware of this problem. His friend and student, Princess Elizabeth of
Bohemia [1618-1680], points out this problem, albeit very gently, in her
correspondence with him. Having defined
the mind and the body in such radically distinct terms, there does not seem to
be any “place’ for the two to interact.
“Where does the soul touch the body?”
To this question Descartes famously/imfamously
responds “the pineal gland.” Not his
finest moment.
You may have seen the 1990 movie “Ghost” with Demi More and Patrick Swasey. Well in it, Swasey’s character is a Ghost (eventually) and at first cannot manipulate anything in the physical world. As the movie goes along however, he eventually is able to push a penny, and then other things, a can, computer keys, etc. Well, the problem with “interactionism” is just this: “What’s pushing the penny?” According to the law of conservation of energy, the only thing that could have that kind of physical effect on a physical object is some other physical force. Physics doesn’t seem to allow for non-physical sources of physical (kinetic) energy. And that's true of pennies and neurons.
But whether one believes in the existence of immaterial souls or not, one has to understand the concept simply to follow the plot in these movies. And they all require you to accept the reality of mind/body dualism in this “movie realm.” And notice, the movies don’t have to teach you this “theory;” you brought it to the theater with you. That’s why you can follow what going on.
Also, something like this view in required to understand how Endora (Samantha’s mother on the T.V. show Bewitched) is able to turn Samantha’s mortal husband, Darin, into a donkey or a lamp (or an entirely different actor in the sixth season 😉.)
Think about it for a minute. You're watching and you don't say, "Oh look that witch obliterated Darin and created a donkey and then she obliterated the Donkey and created a replica that looks just like Darin." although that account is supported by what you observe. (i.e. Darin, Donkey, Darin twin)
|
What you observe is: |
What you experience/ perceive/ theorize to is: |
|
1. Darin |
1. Darin as Darin |
|
2. Goat |
2. Darin as Goat |
|
3. Darin-Lookalike |
3. Darin as Darin (again) |
No, instead you automatically experience the events as ones where Darin persists as an enduring substance, "standing under" changing appearances. In other words, you experience Darin not as one unique body, but as a transferable "essence."
Evil versus Just
Plain Bad
A second motif of these movies in the existence of evil as distinct from just plain bad. We all know that terrible things happen every day, but what Horror films tell us is that some things aren’t just terrible, they’re horrific. Humans can do lots of nasty stuff on their own, but outside of horror films we might be willing to chalk it up to a bad childhood, or a chemical imbalance, or not enough fiber in the diet. Such people aren’t evil; they’re just “bad.” They’re broken. “Natural” worldviews often omit “evil” as a category of reality. Aristotle, for instance, contrasts good and bad, thriving and withering, admirable and pathetic, excellent with suboptimal, but not good and evil. Similarly, psychology would describe the worst sociopath as a diseased mind, but not an evil person. Evil, on the other hand, is a kind of supernatural bad. To be evil, really really evil, may even require demonic assistance. By comparison, the worst human offenders are mere pikers.
Evil presumes “Free Will”
But I think that part of the reason for this distinction is because, to say of an action is evil at a minimum presumes that it was freely chosen and was not completed or committed merely as the product of bad genes or environment. However, if the natural universe is completely determined by physical laws, “Free Will” itself seems to imply a kind of Supernatural force. One of the reasons the philosopher Rene Descartes liked the idea of an immaterial soul is that it could explain why, in an otherwise causally determined universe, humans remain as free agents with moral responsibility. "Good and Bad" does not presume freewill, nor do they ascribe praise or blame, but "Good and Evil" do. Metaphysically, Believing in evil seems to require claiming that, in addition to the natural world of good and bad, there is, layered on top or saturated within, a supernatural realm of good and evil.
An note further, Evil cannot be treated, cured or rehabilitated. It must be utterly opposed, exorcised and destroyed by the forces of good. In horror-movie-world there is no sense trying to negotiate with the devil and only a fool would think otherwise.
Something of this supernatural conception of evil lingers in
any ascription of evil. Years ago the
late president Ronald Reagan was much criticized when he labeled the old Soviet
Union as “The Evil Empire.” This was not
because Reagan’s critics liked the things the Soviet Union
did, but rather because Reagan’s critics viewed the
Cosmic Significance of Human History
This next point picks up on the last. In horror-movie-land, the events that comprise human history, particularly the good against evil events, have cosmic significance. They are battles in “the great struggle” that is THE point of history and of the very universe itself. How humans conduct themselves and what happens to them matters in the big picture because 1. there IS a big picture, a grand narrative in which history can be seen and having a rational, meaningful structure, and 2. humans are an essential part of that narrative. Earth is center stage in the Drama of history. I recall seeing the movie entitled “Warlock” the plot of which centered around one witch’s ability to unmake all of creation via a secret incantation. Now when you think about it, suggesting that the actions of a single human, no matter how creepy, could undo 13 billion years of history is pretty arrogant. But such is the power and significance of humans and human actions in the horror genre.
Enlightenment versus
Romantic Thinking
You may already know that during the Enlightenment, there was unprecedented confidence in the ability of Reason, once it has been freed from all “irrational impediments” to solve any problem. If only we could be “rational” and conquer our fears, our prejudices, our unreasoned emotional attachments to doctrines, our superstitions etc. there would be no problem we could not overcome. There must be an rational explanation for whatever happens, and the wise “person of science” is committed to finding that explanation and using this knowledge to improve the human condition. During this period, it was believed that what had impeded the progress of science and knowledge for the previous 1000 years or so was the lack of reason, or at least a sufficiently strong commitment to reason. We had been too given to superstition, knowledge as received doctrine and blind faith.
For instance, Aristotle (384-322 BCE) had claimed that objects of differing weights fall at different rates of speed. And this was taught thereafter for nearly two thousand years. Do objects of differing weights fall at different rates of speed? No. Objects fall at the same rate of speed (when one accounts for wind resistance), but no one bothered to question that for nearly 2000 years! Galileo (1564-1642 CE) did. Legend has it that he dropped lead balls of different weights off the Leaning Tower of Pisa and discover the rate of free-fall is independent of weight. The point is that the progress of knowledge had been impeded by unquestioned acceptance of Aristotle's (et alia) authority. When we adopted this skeptical and critical mindset, we began to make comparatively swift progress where previously there was only stagnation.
Some of the important figures from the Enlightenment were champions of science and vocal critics of religion. They tried to solve scientific, medical, navigational, commercial problems as well as moral, political, legal and even religious/theological problems by means of hyper-rational arguments and theories. Even religion and theology would have to conform to rational modes of investigation and explanation. Immanuel Kant (1724 - 1804) argues for Religion within the Boundaries of Mere Reason and the rational necessity of God. Gottfried Leibniz (1646 –1716) suggested that God’s existence can be demonstrated by the principle of sufficient reason. But if argument fails to demonstrate the existence of God, or indeed, could demonstrate the nonexistence of God, then, continuing to believe was both irrational and immoral. Doing so could only contribute to the gullibility of society, the very social ill responsible for so much lingering ignorance and unhappiness. This was the theme of the French materialist philosopher Baron d'Holbach (1723 – - 1789) 1761 work Christianisme dévoilé ("Christianity Unveiled") in which he argued that Christianity and religion in general was an impediment to the advancement of humanity. Enlightenment required jettisoning blind faith, it would seem.
But Enlightenment Thinking led to a starker, less friendly view of reality. For one this, instead of humans being the crowning glory of a magnificent creation fashioned by a good, loving, wise and powerful God, humanity was largely the accident and the universe was seen as slipshod draftsmanship at best by a third rate engineer, or perhaps, not the product of thoughtful creation at all. The Earth was no longer seen as the mainstage on which the history of the entire cosmos was being played out, but rather an insignificant bit of dust in an insignificant corner of a really, really big place. And it very much seems like what goes on in this little low-rent district of the cosmos matters to no one but us, and even then, only so long as we have the energy and memory to care. Rather than looking forward to a blissful, eternal reward, where our every question is answered, our every illness healed, our sorrow comforted away, we have only to look forward to meaningless death and oblivion.
And it don’t get no better than this. How sad.
Little wonder that by the mid-1700’s Western Culture was looking for a change. It had become disenchanted (so to speak) with Enlightenment thinking. And it was followed by what is now known as “Romanticism.” But what is at the heart of Romanticism? The eerie warning “Beware, Reason does not, cannot reveal all!” There are some things in this world that go beyond the ability of Reason to explain or even comprehend. There is a “supra-rational” realm. Think here of Blaise Pascal’s (1623-1662) perhaps anticipating Romanticism a bit, quote: “Le cœur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît pas.” And our only vehicle to this supra-rational realm, to commune with these items is through emotion, passion and imagination. And while emotion, passion and imagination may seem anathemas to Enlightenment Scientists, they are the very stock and trade of artists. We see during the Romantic Period in Western art the elevation n of “the artists” as more than a mere craftsman. The arthritis becomes a kind of hierophant, communing with the Supra-rational and being us into its presence.
Consider two Paradigms of Horror:
Robert Le Diable
Probably the best known Romantic
Ballets are La Selphide and Giselle.
And some of what I’m going to say applies to these ballets
too, however, less well known is that what is considered the first
Romantic Ballet. It was the dance
sequence from the Opera Robert Le Diable,
entitled the “Ballet of the Nuns.” The
scene was set at
Keep in mind that it was one of the first theatrical productions which was able to use the new gas lighting technology to good effect. This was one of the first times that an audience was able to enter a darken theater and see displayed before them simulated moonlight and all sort of fantastic images. And consider the subtext. The ruins of an abandon convent- a faith of a bygone era, desolate and crumbling- yet haunted. And haunted by whom? By those who had lost faith, pining after what was no longer attainable.
Frankenstein:
During the summer of 1816, nineteen-year-old Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin and her lover, the poet Percy Shelley (whom she married later that year), visited the poet Lord Byron at his villa beside Lake Geneva in Switzerland. Stormy weather frequently forced them indoors, where they and Byron's other guests sometimes read from a volume of ghost stories. One evening, Byron challenged his guests to each write one themselves. Mary's story, inspired by a dream she had had, became Frankenstein.
Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein could not epitomize the Romantic Revolt against the Enlightenment more. (And I think we are all familiar with revolting Romantics.) Dr. Frankenstein is a “Man of Science” unlike those backward ignorant villagers. He knows that death is not something to fear. How will we ever conquer it if we persist in our irrational superstitions and taboos against working with dead bodies, etc.? Death is simply an engineering problem, and approached from that perspective, may well admit of a rational solution. He has initial success, but then what? His creation turns into an irrational monster which he cannot understand or control. This product of science grabs him by the throat.
Perhaps the most fundamental presumption of Horror movies is the triumph of un-reason, the Romantic. The character who say, “Oh there has to be a rational explanation.” is sure to be knocked off by the monster in the next scene. Or, if some how he does survive the coming cataclysm, he will NEVER say THAT again. No, it’s the old ones who
remember the old ways (or the ever-present Olde Prophecy or Grimorie) or it’s the elfin-
children, unjaded and in touch with the Spiritual Realm, who have the best chance of telling us how to make it through to the final credits.
Eerie Dread vs. Fear
Gothic stories and modern day Horror films try to evoke a particular and peculiar emotion. It’s not just fear. Suspense films can cause us to have fear. But that’s the kind of fear that a wild animal might cause or a robber or even a (run of the mill) insane attacker. This can be very severe and acute, but it is not the same species of fear as that eerie, uncanny fear that one might get in the presence of the Undead, a Fiend from Hell, a ghost. That “graveyard at midnight” kind of fear, that “something weird (wyrd) is out there,” unseen perhaps, but detectable nonetheless, is what the true horror film is about. That’s the kind of fear that follows you home from the cinema and keeps you up at night, listening for footsteps in the hall or whispers in the wind.
The philosopher, Rudolf Otto, in the early 1900s proposed that the root and origins of all world religions is a powerful sort of experience human being sometimes have which he called “numinous” experience. He claimed that during this sort of experience the subject is powerfully and undeniably aware of something vast, magnificent, otherworldly, terrible and awesome (in the pre-80’s sense of the word). This is what we mean by terming something “Holy:” “Holy” in its oldest and most universal since means totally "Other." Otto thinks all religions have this idea of the “Holy” in common, and it forms the essence of religion. Religions are our responses to encountering the Holy. But world religions differ in how they articulate, metabolize and mask “the Holy” in their attempt to rationalize it.
Otto felt that this sort of experiential communion with the “totally other” (Numinous Experience) was completely beyond the ability of reason to comprehend. And only this sort of experience of this sort of experience can ground or justify the attitude of worship, that “you are everything and I am nothing in comparison” mindset. It grounds other religious concepts and practices as well such as atonement, sanctification, and mystery. Otto suggested that a “God” understood is a God to no one. Incidentally, the object of the Numinous Experience is beyond the categories of good and evil; it could be masked as the Western notion of a just and compassionate God, but it could be a demon or the Angel of Darkness himself.
Otto claimed that a close cousin of this Numinous Experience is precisely the uncanny dread that we get from Ghost Stories, etc. This is very clearly explained by C.S. Lewis:
"Suppose you were told that there was a tiger in the next room: you would know that you were in danger and would probably feel fear. But if you were told "There is a ghost in the next room," and believed it, you would feel, indeed, what is often called fear, but of a different kind. It would not be based on the knowledge of danger, for no one is primarily afraid of what a ghost may do to him, but of the mere fact that it is a ghost. It is "uncanny" rather than dangerous, and the special kind of fear it excites may be called Dread. With the Uncanny one has reached the fringes of the Numinous. Now suppose that you were told simply "There is a mighty spirit in the room" and believed it. Your feelings would then be even less like the mere fear of danger: but the disturbance would be profound. You would feel wonder and a certain shrinking–described as awe, and the object which excites it is the Numinous." - The Problem of Pain (1940)
That such an unique feeling exists and can be triggered by certain types of tales (and not others) is an operating presumption of the movies to which I refer. Indeed, it is their objective to excite precisely that. The stories they tell and the images they utilize are directed towards that end. Note those stories and images, like religious iconography itself, may sometimes successfully evoke the eerie dread, or may fail as effete conceits or comic overreaching.
Otto was a neo-Kantian of sorts. Kant of course, famously criticizes rational attempts to answer the question of God via metaphysics. But there is a sense that Otto is just as much an anti-metaphysician as Kant. For Otto, it is the very failure of reason that brings us to an awareness of the divine. For his part, Kant never denies the enduring alure of metaphysical speculations that seeks to draw us beyond the domain of ordinary human experience. Kant himself say:
“That the human mind would someday entirely give up metaphysical investigations is just as little to be expected, as that we would someday gladly stop all breathing so as never to take in impure air. There will therefore be metaphysics in the world at every time, and what is more, in every human being, and especially the reflective ones;[3]
Are we lured by something? Does aesthetic and religious experience assure us that there is more to reality than the quantifiable world of science? Otto would say so. Kant however, explicitly rejects such -perhaps wishful- Romantic explanations. Nevertheless, he does so while simultaneously admitting that
“Two things fill the mind with ever new and increasing admiration and awe, the more often and steadily we reflect upon them: the starry heavens above me and the moral law within me.[4]
So, at this Halloween time perhaps we would do well to ask ourselves “What is it that “fills us with holy dread?” Do these experiences give is knowledge ( or what philosopher Jacob Fries called “intimations”) of some extra-mental source of value and meaning? Is numinous experience in anyway veridical or quasi-perceptual?
Or are they merely the result of internal psychological and physiological processes? Some scientists claim to have discovered the “God Gene” or regions in our brain that, when stimulated with electrical current, cause us to have a spooky feeling that “someone is out there.”
Historically the eerie dread of ghost stories and sense of the holy resulting from numinous experience have had ties to established religion. Ghosts were thought to be the souls of the dead. “The Exorcist” clearly trades on Catholic iconography and dogma. Dracula can be defeated by the crucifix. But now these stories and films seem to be completely secularized. (Vampire genes?) Has the manufacturing of these experiences outside of any religious context (Hollywood et alia) cheapened these experiences in the same way that the supposed “God Helmet” was thought to demystify supposed religious experience? That is, if such experiences can be predictably mass produced, doesn’t that suggest that there’s really nothing to them?
Afterward
Now all of the foregoing was to point out certain philosophical conceits that form the background of many Horror Films. But I also hope by doing so to have demonstrated that philosophy and philosophical assumptions and presumptions, far from being esoteric and removed from everyday like, pop up in everyday life all the time. They are, as Mary Midgley put it, like the plumbing that runs under everything. Now it’s true, most people rarely give the plumbing a second thought, but that’s not because it esoteric or useless. It’s because it’s under the surface. And when something goes wrong, when something start’s really stinking, that’s when we have to pull up the floorboards and examine our philosophy.