Weltanschauung

The Philosopher’s Stone

zenothestoic@protonmail.ch

Category: The Human Zoo

  • Vanity Fair

    Vanity Fair

    Who treads the path and why. And those who do not, those who prefer Vanity Fair, what is their fate.

    Is there meaning at all in the universe, right or wrong, up or down. None, says the physicist. All is an illusion, even consciousness itself. No free will, all choice mere fanciful thinking along a harsh and desolate path of deterministic rigour, our route set as firmly as a locomotive on rails of steel.

    No choice is truly made, no change possible say those brilliant minds which describe and measure the physical universe. And yet such minds can tell us nothing of intrinsic meaning. Assuming that any such concept can be said to exist.

    Is he wrongheaded then, our pilgrim. No heaven no hell. The path mere conceit, leading nowhere. Was John Bunyan’s hero on a road to nowhere, or can the seeker find peace and meaning.

    The world over, seekers follow the same path. Whatever their race or culture, the means are similar and the end identical. Called by different names, the discerning traveler shuns the narrow dogma of priest and the guardian of orthodoxy, and seeks out nirvana, peace, god through a life which becomes ever more silent. Contemplation tells them that the physicist is wrong.

    It is clear to such people that consciousness does exist. If that phenomena is merely subjective, in objective terms most would agree that this ghost, this ephemeral and fleeting flicker, is at least a shared illusion and therefore undeniable whatever its “reality” or otherwise.

    There comes a time when our traveler has read enough, having listened diligently to the conflicting noise of the opinionated and self anointed. He has studied at worthy and ancient universities. He is no stranger to Wittgenstein and Erasmus, Confucius and Lao Tzu once influenced his thinking.

    Or there again, the traveler may be a man of no education, unlearn-ed even. No one is disqualified from the search for meaning.

    But all eventually find that the path leads inward and that Vanity Fair offers no lasting reward. And certainly no peace.

    Such men will not care whether good and evil can be said to exist objectively. It exists for them and that is enough. The great men of learning who deny meaning can be safely be ignored. For those who seek, a god will be found to exist – even the atheist will find something wondrous and immaterial to believe in.

    As to himself, he neither worshipped a god nor washed the feet of the poor. He sought sanctity in no one’s eyes, least of all his own.

    He supposed, if and when he thought of the matter, that the external world was beyond the pale, let alone a god who encouraged Jew and Arab to slaughter each other’s babies and invented evolution. Or didn’t.

    The world never changed, nothing new under the sun and probably never would be. So forget worship – if a creator did exist he was either a very poor programmer or a vicious sadist. Perhaps both.

    But callous our pilgrim was not, nonetheless. If there was sanctity it was to be sought in right thinking and the eradication of suffering. It’s just that he was not up to the job of bringing about the latter.

    And so his own path was to mind his own business and try at least to do no harm. For he knew he could do no good.

    And so his path led inwards into silence and meditation.

    It seemed to him highly probable that merchant moguls, kings, emperors and politicians were, for the most part, unlikely to be skilled in such arts. Those who “do” in the world, especially those who “do down” don’t spend much time in self reflection or questioning.

    If they did, he suspected the world might be an altogether better place but on the whole he remained convinced the world would go to hell in a handcart and he determined no to go with it.

    There is a reality to meditation and meditation leads to reality. Or to put it another way, we humans do not as a species see the error of our ways and fail to see the futility of our customary pursuits. Nor do we understand that less is often more.

    Meditation has a curious effect, practiced daily and diligently. It sorts the world out, it sifts the chaff from the wheat. It cures the soul and in and of itself seems to lead to right thinking and an appreciation that reality is not as simple as it seems.

    And so for some, it becomes pointless to think more, to read more, to listen more. Shut out the Tower of Babel, switch off the talking heads. Think right thoughts, even if you do not have the inclination or aptitude to pursue right deeds.

    And it reaches the point where you look at the collective madness of our species and simply resign.

    If that sounds selfish it is certainly better than succumbing to the insanity of killing babies, screwing the poor, or entering politics.

  • King Charles’s Roman Circus

    King Charles’s Roman Circus

    Today’s £125m fancy dress party both amused and bemused me.

    Vast inherited wealth and privilege sits uncomfortably beside a world engulfed in the flames of war and beset by poverty, want and savage cruelty.

    Life is still nasty and brutish and in all probability many only wish it had remained short.

    The King himself is reputed to have inherited £1.8bn and the day found him dressed in mediaeval garb surrounded by the flummery of crowds who could surely have found better use of their day. But of course the great and the good love to see and be seen.

    Religion could have made itself a force for good but to this day panders to the powerful and wealthy rather than remaining true to its humble and sincere origins.

    We understand from the Christian gospels that Jesus of Nazareth lived a lowly communal existence while he continued his short ministry. He famously declared that the meek shall inherit the earth and the New Testament quotes Jesus as saying in Luke 18:25 that “it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God” (Jesus and the rich young man).

    And yet today the church establishment continues a centuries old tradition of gratifying the fripperies and conceits of the rich and the famous, where once their founder sought to heal the sick and feed the poor and the hungry.

    The British Prime Minister ( a man of enormous reputed wealth, and, paradoxically a Hindu) read from St Paul’s epistle to the Colossians.

    “Put to death, then, the parts of you that are earthly: immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and the greed that is idolatry.”

    Wise words indeed from Verse 5, and much the same sentiments are to be found in all spiritual doctrines including the beautiful sacred texts of the Hindus.

    Whether Prime Minister Sunak is a supporter of such sentiments I would not know. But he would presumably have difficulty passing through the eye of a needle.

    What a great pity that as a species we have always been unable or unwilling to practice what the original holy men so rightly taught.

    I have no doubt that some of today’s “holy men” will wish to defend the institution of the monarchy and would be little wont to cast off their own regal garb and prominent position in the great Cathedrals and Abbeys. And yet one has a suspicion that Jesus of Nazareth would encourage such prelates to pull down the vast edifice they have built and to slum it with the masses.

  • Seeking economic benefit?

    Seeking economic benefit?

    Wouldn’t you if you were living in the Third World on 10 cents a day?

    No doubt the Messiah himself would have been turned away from our borders as an undesirable. Unless he had a large donation to make to the ruling political party. Or was a Russian Oligarch, a money launderer seeking to wash his funds in the City of London, or a non domiciled person intent on the tax advantages Great Britain so obligingly offers the obscenely rich.

    But then presumably such people arrive by private jet or super yacht and do not have to rely on toy inflatables provided by people smugglers to cross the treacherous waters of the English Channel.

    Leaving aside any belief in the supernatural, if the accounts in the New Testament of the life of Jesus of Nazareth are true, what a man he was. Sadly, humanity has not improved in the last 2000 years despite his efforts.

    Christmas is worth celebrating. Our collective behaviour is not.

  • “Worldly”

    “Worldly”

    Some consider it a compliment to be described as “worldly”. To others of a more reflective disposition, such a label might be seen as unfortunate.

    Our “world” as we know it depends upon competition for survival at every level of living organism and if we at the human level realize this, most of us seem oblivious or ignorant of the result. Which is to live in fear and misery.

    Just as the mouse or vole lives in terror of the hawk wheeling overhead, so the human lives in terror of the despot or the greedy capitalist hoovering up the world’s scarce resources and keeping as much of it for himself as he can. Doling out slave wages to the hapless van drivers and factory workers chained up to his money making machine.

    Living in fear also of the petty politicians who live to prey on others rather than serving the people who elected them. Or worse, seizing power and creating a tyranny. Again the motive is the same – fear and greed. They will take to survive. And they believe the more they take, the greater their chances of happiness and survival. Oblivious to the fact that happiness does not work that way.

    Power corrupts and you can see this at all levels in all societies. Local and central government politicians, elected or otherwise, soon come to believe that they own the public assets they oversee. An unfortunate “groupthink” develops both on the left and the right. Those in poverty are seen as scroungers out for all they can get, refugees are seen as greedy opportunists who are out for economic advancement.

    The lowly, the desperate, the poor and the needy become demonized. Those who wield power over them come to see them as a threat to be contained or eliminated.

    There must be better people in this world. People not consumed by greed and power. People who see the world and human behavior for what it is and want to change it. But perhaps they are the “meek” and whatever the scriptures might say, they do not inherit the earth.

    Those who inherit the earth are not the mild mannered who wish peace and happiness and plenty for all. They are the people who, like Benjamin Disraeli, have climbed to the top of the greasy pole and intend to stay there. They have committed all sorts of brutality to get to the top and they will fight tooth and nail to remain in power.

    Is it worth fighting against these people? Well the word “fighting” may give us a clue. Violence can never be right and yet aggression seems the only way to wreak change in a world governed and dominated by violence and obsessive greed.

    The other way is resignation. Let these fools grasp for their baubles. Let them discover the age old truth that human desire is never satisfied, can not be.

    Take yourself as far away from such people as you can go. Both metaphorically and physically. Reject the painful and hideous group think of the political parties and the leaders of our corrupt capitalist businesses. Live as far as you possibly can from their ideals and their physical locations. Become a Stylite, live in the desert or on some remote island in some emerald green sea.

    And in your mind be free. Living without greed and hatred, envy and the ignorant desire to dominate and conquer.

    There is little you can do to cure the world. So leave it, ignore it and recognize that this too shall pass.

  • Taliban

    Taliban

    Has it ever known peace, this sad and beautiful land.

    Taliban, you say and the world shudders.

    Lapis lazuli though, and hand woven rugs. Pomegranates and saffron, the cool beauty of mountains and rocky passes, dun coloured villages and the snow leopard. These too are Afghanistan.

    Not all is battle and violence in this ancient land. Leave all that behind. Start again and make your world, ours a better place.

    Must we always speak of politics and brutality. Can we not remember this land as a cradle of civilisation, a romantic cross roads between nations, the half way house on the Silk Road.

    Think good things then of this nation and its peoples. Is not Afghanistan the birthplace of Rumi. Is there poetry more profound than this Sufi’s search for his god.

    “Make peace with the universe. Take joy in it. It will turn to gold. Resurrection will be now. Every moment, a new beauty.”

    Arabesque arches and minarets, the geometry of sacred patterns, cool courtyards with a gently trickling fountain. Think this of Islam and its peoples. Not bloodshed and crusade.

    What religion has not been corrupted but what sublime peace can be found there even for the infidel, the non believer. Liturgy, music, prayer. Art and sublime architecture. Mysticism so very similar whether expressed by Sufi or Christian, Buddhist or Zoroastrian. A meeting with the infinite, an experience of profound joy and understanding.

    A plaything of empire for untold thousands of years, you have cast them off now, Pashtun and Tajik, Sunni and Shia. Show the Mongol horde and the Mauryas, the British and American invaders, the Russians and the Macedonians how well you can live and how you can reflect the glory of your god.

    Not with arms and suppression, not with public executions and the extermination of your enemies. Not with a brutal criminal law, outdated and man made.

    Grow in wisdom and kindness you men, masters once again of the land of your birth. And in dignity and decency. All men are equal, women too.

    Put down your arms and follow in the footsteps of Rumi:

    “As you start to walk on the way a way appears”

    Walk a new road, make peace with the universe. Every moment a new beauty.

    By Afghanistan Matters from Brunssum, Netherlands – ContrastsUploaded by GiW, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=29782737

  • Sea of Words

    Sea of Words

    Can you count the stars in the sky, the grains of sand on a beach. Can you hear a voice in the infinite Sea of Words unleashed by an age of digits and silicon.

    It is your right to be heard, and mine. In times gone by we stood on a box at Hyde Park Corner. Do they still stand there I wonder, are they listened to, admired.

    Caxton it was or Johannes Gutenberg, who set the taps running. Who began that drip which some hundreds of years later became a raging, stormed tossed ocean of opinion and doggerel, marketing and hype, nonsense and bigotry. And in places, but oh so rare, so hidden and covered by the surrounding detritus, the occasional light. Voice of reason. Beacon in a dark world.

    Is the broadsheet still read? Published even? And if it is, does it have anything to say above the endless noise and wailing, the digital storm which surrounds us. Invades our homes, our lives.

    Is the Times still read? The New Yorker, the Economist, the Daily Telegraph. Does the Wall Street Journal survive, the curious pink Financial Times.

    And if they do, is it still printed I wonder. Is there still that smell of paper and ink, do those presses still roll throughout the night. Do the delivery trucks rush the morning press to the newsstands in the early hours.

    They say the internet is a great leveler. That it gives a voice to all. But do you want to listen. And if you do, can you find that voice you want to hear.

    WordPress and Twitter, Facebook and Instagram. Medium even, that offspring of the commercial genii who brought Twitter spluttering to life.

    Choice is important they say but survival perhaps more so. Who will save you from drowning in the Sea of Words.

    For the most part survival means to switch off. To power down, to close Google for good and cease to participate in the digital storm threatening to engulf us all.

    For there are no effective filters it seems. No magic search which commands “show me what I want to hear”. Bring me a voice of culture and sanity I want to listen to.

    The flood gates have been opened, some say for good not ill. Take care lest you drown in a sea of inanity, irrelevance and banality. Do not slip and fall into this swollen river, this angry tide, this fast moving and ever changing flood of words.

    Dip your toes in the raging flood if you will, but do not be surprised if your feet never touch firm ground again. If meaning becomes forever lost in a storm of noise and fury.

  • City of Iniquity

    City of Iniquity

    Woe to him that buildeth a town with blood and stablisheth a city by iniquity.

    Unaccustomed to his birthplace after years of absence, a recent visit left him questioning its very foundations.

    From fashionable young Fulham to Sloane Square, from Hyde Park Corner through Kensington and back home along the river from Hammersmith, he quietly stole along on a push scooter. His vehicle of choice in this bustling, bursting, heaving metropolis.

    Was he ever really a part of this great city. Did he ever belong there amongst its gilded rogues, living in the high palaces of gods, a mere stone’s throw from the unwashed, little different except for their luck. More ambition perhaps. A lack of the drive or reckless energy of the hardened street fighter may be all that separates he of the glittering tower from the downtrodden of the bleak government housing estate. Or worse; the man on the street, soused in the oblivion of alcohol or some other narcotic of choice.

    A shabby old man in hiking trousers and an old pair of black trainers can glide quite unobserved along even these most glamourous parts of the city. Largely unnoticed, like an urban fox or a tramp sleeping it off under the arches.

    Until his way is barred along the Embankment. On a pavement outside one of those tall, wide, grand mansions of brick built in older days, for hard men of a different age.

    The way was blocked by two swarthy men in dark black sunglasses and the swaggering walk of men not unaccustomed to violence. They wore black, tight, shiny suits and their muscles bulged through the expensive cloth. Shiny black winkle pickers on their feet, they emerged suddenly and silently as two huge gates drifted quietly apart and a large, black, pearlescent limousine emerged from the luxury within and shot out into the traffic, across the pavement. Blacked out windows hid the occupant as well perhaps as bullet proof glass, run flat tires and armed protection inside this chariot of dark apocalypse.

    The surly hit men melted back into their masters domain and the great doors slid back to exclude the common man from this hallowed ground. Once again free to tread his way along the public footpath, with a gentle push, the old man passed by, thankful perhaps that he had not come to any harm greater than humiliation and a vague sense of unease.

    Who was he then, this Titan in his cloud of blackness? A magnate of some great enterprise, so much was clear. Minister of some government perhaps, living to peddle influence and distribute fat contracts. Drugs – who knows, perhaps this was some London bolt hole kept by the head of a ruthless cartel in some far flung continent. Here perhaps to spend some of his gains, to play in the casinos, to feel the warmth of a call girl.

    And so feels central London, and so perhaps it always has. Huge wealth and barbed wire to keep out the people, barbarians if you will who might seek revolution or justice. Street upon street of magnificence all with tales to tell. Some wealth perhaps honestly gained, albeit jealousy guarded across generations. Dukes and Earls with hundreds of acres, worth billions, housing the iniquitous and somehow managing to escape the ravages of inheritance taxes.

    And so to the more rural glories of Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens, grand still, but less obviously populated by gangsters and other super rich. Until that is, the grand palace of Kensington comes into view, behind which stand more stately mansions along the enormous avenue of Kensington Palace Gardens. Shared admittedly, this road, by foreboding and dread embassies.

    London was always thus of course. As a younger man, perhaps you do not notice its character. Perhaps you aim to join the elite yourself and hire your own armed guards, bury yourself in your own fortress in this capital of gold.

    Perhaps you dreamt of selling enough Eurobonds to build your own Bonfire of the Vanities. Perhaps in those early days you were not driven by a keen observation of the absurd. Then perhaps, you may have thought nothing of currying favor with an Eastern despot. Of helping to bank his money, or rather that of his subjects, underneath the streets of Zurich.

    But the old man on his scooter laughs; sits on a pavement with a cold drink and an ice cream, somewhere west of Kensington in a less salubrious area called Olympia. Drapes his feet over the curb and watches the world go by.

    And that is what he tends to do these days. Watch the world go by. Taking nothing too seriously, least of all himself.

    Image: Pixabay

  • “What is it like to be”……Trump?

    “What is it like to be”……Trump?

    The soon to be ex President of the USA represents everything that is wrong with our species and yet what must it be like to live inside that shell of violent emotion? We should pity the man and people like him.

    It is not easy to live your life in a manner which promotes the best interests of our planet if inside you seethe with emotions such as rage, hatred and anger. Perhaps Mr Trump also suffers from other unfortunate qualia. Lust perhaps, envy? Who knows.

    We are in a position to know what it is like to be Trump since we share with him the whole range of human emotion and feeling. Most of us will at times have felt all of these destructive sensations and yet the happiest among us have probably mastered the art of balance. We have learnt that the capital vices are good for neither ourselves nor those around us.

    Mr Trump and his 88 million Twitter followers are therefore people to be pitied and helped rather than despised and derided. On the spectrum of what is normal, many of them will veer far off that scale. If you define normal as a person who is occasionally taken with one or other “deadly sin”, but is able to live mostly a quiet and pleasant life without falling prey to such emotions, then you probably have a fairly good definition of normal.

    Mr Trump and his followers are not, by this definition, normal. Not, at least, in terms of modern normality. Perhaps back in the days of the Vikings or the Goths, Mr Trump would have been considered “normal” and his attitudes applauded.

    Let us be frank – Mr Trump is not alone in his condition, even in the 21st Century. But hopefully the majority of us see the sad and damaging pointlessness of hating blacks, or gays or anybody else. Perhaps most of us have come to understand the damage which unbridled lust, or greed causes.

    Not so Mr Trump, it seems.

    What is to be done then? With people like Trump? In an ideal world as such people age, they would seek and hopefully find some sort of enlightenment. They would realize that even if there is no objective right or wrong in a universe indifferent to suffering, it makes for a better existence to behave as if there were such standards.

    Trump can not be a happy man. He can not be the sort of person who looks in the mirror and feels content. It may be fair to assume from the angry expression so often on his face, from his body language and above all by his extreme and violent views, that he is a deeply unhappy man.

    And for that I pity him. God knows I have felt enough unhappiness in my life to understand how difficult it is to be happy though human.

    There have been so many others like Trump throughout our unfortunate history – some more successful in their attempts to wreak havoc, some less so.

    If Trump had the self awareness, the balance to choose his behavior, would he change his ways? Would he seek calm and peace and slough off violence, greed and hatred?

    Unaided, perhaps not. The fault is not altogether his. All species on earth have evolved with one aim – to survive by any means possible. While some would prefer not to survive if it means committing atrocities, some are still saddled with the savage drive natural selection has bestowed upon them.

    The seven deadly sins are in some of us endogenous, so securely implanted that we will never defeat them unaided. Those people see nothing wrong in such urges and are happy to give them full expression.

    More enlightened (and luckier) individuals over the ages have preached peace and decency. They have been largely unheard but their voices continue to provide reason and balm in a hostile and dangerous world.

    Unfortunately, the likes of Trump are most unlikely to see the error of their ways. They suffer. they are not happy people.

    All we can do is to try to convince such individuals that their behavior damages our world as well as themselves and will eventually destroy us.

  • Extinction Rebellion

    Extinction Rebellion

    I find it hard to criticize any of the aims of Extinction Rebellion. Almost all of what they advocate accords with my own deeply felt convictions on what is wrong with our world.

    I have no experience of “activism” and instinctively I have steered clear of trouble all my life. Not for me, banner waving in Parliament Square. Let alone getting mown down by a fireman’s hose or injured by a rubber bullet. But someone has to do the job I suppose.

    I am greatly opposed to violence in any form but these people profess pacifism. I have always been a fan of Mahatma Gandhi.

    I am only peripherally aware of what Extinction Rebellion has achieved so far. I don’t know the people involved and can not judge their sincerity or true motivation. But what I can do is to admire their vision. And to wish there was a political party I could vote for whose agenda included these aims, so close to my own heart.

    Take a look at their vision. Can there be a man of any religious conviction at all who could quibble with these stated aims? Can there be a woman of any decency who can deny that all of this and more is needed to create a just world of which we can be proud?

    Is any of this achievable in practice? The naysayers, the cynics, the greedy will deny it. But denial does not make such aims foolish or impossible. It would of course require a complete reversal of our evolutionary instincts but we can not grow as a species without abandoning vicious Darwinism.

    Without further ado, let me quote some of my favorite passages.

    We catch glimpses of a new world of love, respect and regeneration, where we have restored the intricate web of all life. 

    We rise in the name of truth and withdraw our consent for ecocide, oppression and patriarchy. We rise up for a world where power is shared for regeneration, repair and reconciliation. We rise for love in its ultimate wisdom.

    We live in a world of fear, where dog eats dog and man’s insatiable lust for power and material possessions runs unchecked. We live in a world where the likes of Donald Trump are allowed to preach racism and violence. We live in a world where almost half of the richest nation on earth voted for a man of ignorance, deceit, and violence as their leader.

    Our world values something we call “economic growth” above anything else. A world where beauty and natural resources are trampled and destroyed so that titans of industry can accumulate ever more. So that corrupt politicians and their supporters can continue to fill the troughs out of which they gorge themselves.

    We need to bring about a world where we aim for growth in happiness, not the economy. An environment where what we care about is the eradication of poverty and suffering above all else.

    My detractors will trot out well worn tropes, the trickle down effect being chief among these. But try trickling down to the people in Grenfell Tower. Try trickling down to the victims of Robert Mugabe or the human detritus so despised by the American presidency.

    I am not a believer in Christ, but try reading the Beatitudes and see if you can spot any similarities with the aims outlined by Extinction Rebellion.

    Take a look at the Eightfold Noble Path and dare to tell me I am wrong to feel the way I do.

    For thousands of years good men (and women) have seen the “truth”. For thousands of years we have ignored and trampled such people underfoot.

    If we are to rise to Teilhard de Chardin’s Omega Point, it is time to start listening. And time to act. Peaceably, but decisively. NOW.

  • Post Scarcity

    Post Scarcity

    How many lives lost in competition for scarce resources.

    Every living thing survives by exchanging energy. Most plants in a benign exchange with the sun. Most others by killing and consuming all around them.

    We with higher sentience live mostly in fear. Some of us recognize our fear and work to control its negative effect on our actions. In less aware souls, fear is the motivation for most of our behavior but goes unrecognized.

    Fear is not just about food. Far more generalized and insidious than that, so many actions around us are perceived as a threat.

    My neighbor seeks to build on a field next door to me and destroy my peace. The “professional” recommendation is to get hold of the land by fair means or foul. The man on my bumper in the winding country lane seeks to get there before me, and risks both our lives in his mad scramble to do so. One pointless meme threatens another to take hold of minds and hearts and doubtless the reverse is true.

    And in less enlightened days I did the same.

    Struggle. All is competition. All ends in violence of a sort, even if only symbolic.

    A director of Barings is said to have produced a paper to then British Prime Minister David Cameron which claimed to solve scarcity. Or at least monetary scarcity, which counts for quite a lot.

    Abolish inheritance he said. All true “wealth” on this planet is locked in the land. The land produces food, shelter and minerals. Every resource we need to survive.

    Let people collect assets during their lifetime and pay no taxes. Let them build their pointless anthills and enjoy them, but on their death take those precious assets back for the good of the commonwealth.

    Use that re-distribution to provide plenty for all. No shortages he said. No failing national health service, no lack of cash for any of our needs.

    Was he right? Were his figures correct? It is likely we will never find out. We are far too fearful for such radicalism and such dreams have lead in the past to monsters and dystopia.

    But the idea can not be wrong. One rocky little planet and it belongs to us all. The smash and grab we have allowed to take place is no less than monstrous.

    And our universe? Infinite and with every resource we could need or dream of. Will we allow the same pillage and greed to rule when we escape the confines of our small planet and insignificant solar system?

    Doubtless we will, if history teaches us anything.

    Survival of the fittest was foisted on us by blind evolution. Fear begat greed and greed begat violence. It need not always be thus had we but the will to change.