The randomness so far suggests…
In summary, our over-riding concern is to satisfy our self-interest, seeking happiness. To achieve this we seek our place in eternity, and we seek to overcome being alone. Our place in eternity is secured spiritually, physically and/or culturally. One means of overcoming aloneness is through transcendent beauty.
Doubtless there are other means of overcoming aloneness.
I’m not sure if honouring the self-sacrifice of another qualifies, but it was the basis for Christianity and the religion of Antinous. Parents sacrifice their interests for their children, so I guess there might be something going on there, whereby we worship self-sacrificing activity that gains us a benefit. Meanwhile, the self-sacrificer (for example a parent or a religious figure) gains some eternal reward, if only the continued or bettered life of his or her children (the child being the parent’s tilt at physical eternity). However, the whole elevation-of-self-sacrifice thing seems a bit artificial to me. I find the contemplation of a transcendent beauty a far more attractive proposition. I’ve no problem with having kids, but to cultivate a culture of the worship of the self-sacrifice of the parent seems just a little on the indulgent side on the part of the parent, and, for that matter, is neatly self-serving of the worshiper and recipient of the sacrifice too. It’s just all a bit grubby.
I have to admit, however, that at least the self-sacrifice structure is more democratic than beauty. Beauty itself is constructed as a kind of nobility, and is only accessible to a few to enjoy. An existing elite will absorb into its ranks great physical beauty. In contrast, the fruits of self-sacrifice are granted, for example in Christianity, to anyone who cares to adopt the model.
Perhaps the power of pure (idealised) self-sacrifice is derived from its ultimate rebellion against what might be a, or the, primary motivating human force - self-interest. From this, can idealised self-sacrifice be understood to transcend humanity itself ? Or is self-sacrifice the ultimate expression of our humanity transcending our animal nature? Perhaps it is both these things. We are not necessarily consistent creatures!
In anthropology there is some controversy over whether self-sacrifice satisfies self-interest or whether it can be entirely selfless. I would need a pretty strong case to convince me that 99 times out of 100, if not in all cases, self-interest is not at the heart of self-sacrifice. Even if cases of pure self-sacrifice exist, I am not sure that they would upset the applecart of the general rule.
By the way, this is not a matter that can be solved by thought experiment. It is simply a matter of fact, lying in the intention of the person. But included in understanding that intention must be, for example, such things as our current understanding of biology, plus a certain scepticism about claims of motivation. It is not enough to say that the mother believed that she was being purely self-sacrificing in risking her life to save her child.
Another way of overcoming aloneness might be to act in pure honesty. This one has not had much of a run so far, for reasons that hardly need elaborating. But somehow, with the fragmentation of many overarching social norms, I suspect it might yet have its day. In the meantime, we are, as I understand it, supposed to have a totally honest relationship with god, and hence, I suppose, with ourselves. That’s a start. But it has proved a decidedly weak system.
Perhaps all our cultural forms are in fact attempts at transcending being alone. Not all cultural forms, however, are elevated to the spiritual plane. This spiritual elevation would seem to be an acid test for perceived effectiveness.
It is fair to say that our search for transcendence of aloneness is intertwined with our quest for eternal existence.
We attempt to meld with the partner with whom we have children.
We work with others in our quest for everlasting fame. In Socrates‘ terms the product of that work is the ‘progeny’ of our partnership.
Connections we form with others can have a spiritual component. Beauty is one vehicle for such a connection. (See Dante, Rumi and Socrates.)
Each age will make crossovers between the various elements. They need not be exclusive.
Greeks and Romans had a construction where one’s lover and spiritual companion was not necessarily part of the reproductive relationship.
I suppose fertility rites conflate the spiritual and reproductive functions.
These days we combine all three in heterosexual marriage. No doubt this is nothing new, but its emphasis might be stronger than in the past. Heterosexual marriage groans under the weight of its burden.
Pierre-Paul Prud’hon: Study for Le Rêve du Bonheur
