D EAR HONOURABLE MEMBERS. I pray that my last effort proved a small comfort. How few understand the difficulty you face in having all our hardest questions pushed upon you. That you might be vindicated, and sleep the sleep of the just, let me continue to relate how I came to see your wisdom in pushing away that foul issue . Last week I ended with my visit to P rof. GROAN, a political philosopher friend, a visit, I said, that left me decidedly uneasy. “It is wonderful,” said GROAN, “that M r. VALEUR- DE-BOIS has directed the government ( in his proposed deliberations on the question of our humanity) to be guided by ‘the relevant experts ’. But he has evidently decided, to boot, whom these experts are.” “I mean, he has not decided this just for himself,” said my friend, “he has decided it the same way for everyone else: he has named the ‘relevant experts ’ as ‘medical science ’. The law, he says, is out of step with ‘the medical evidence about when a child actually does become a human being .’ Do you not find it odd, my dear man, that he has called for open enquiry and in the very same breath closed the mode of enquiry, predefined the make-up of the panel of experts? His Motion asks about ‘the preponderance of medical evidence ’: well, are the ‘relevant experts ’ really just doctors ?” “But whom else should we consider?” I asked. “He is a religious man, you have said; presumably, for a believer, the word of God has some claim to expertise: why not hear the views of pastors and priests? And could you really stop there in a country such as ours? Why not rabbis and imams? Why not shamans, the spiritual leaders in traditional First Nations communities who have special knowledge of the spirit world? But are such figures experts for those of us who believe in no supernatural realm? What experts, I ask, do the rest of us recognize in this regard? There are those like myself who guide their lives not by a religion but by a philosophy.” The complexion of the issue was changing second by second, at about the rate of my rapidly drooping face. But my astonishment seemed only to egg the Professor on. “I n fact, I believe we must go farther down this line,” he added. “Is there really such a thing as ‘expertise ’ per se : experts for you and I, no matter who we are, with respect to any given thing? Is not ‘expertise ’ in fact a philosophical notion? I mean,” he continued, “God is an expert for some; he is the very supreme authority for those who inhabit religious views of the world. But he is not an expert in my world - how could he be, when he is not in my world?” “My expert is William James, John Dewey - the pragmatist philosophers. Or, rather: you could even say that my expert is myself , as the idea of whom I would call expert originates inside of me! Perhaps you find that strange but strange, indeed, is life. Life, my dear man, is messy. - And here is my point,” he continued. He did continue. I was rather wishing he would not, as I wanted nothing better than to run off and cradle my head in a sling or wrap it in a damp towel, or drown it. - “Good heavens,” I raged in the inwardness of my thoughts ( where, mentally, I was shrieking at the top of my lungs) , “we are talking about stating what a human being is ! About saying what thaT wretched THING , in your wife’s bulging belly, that is about to be born ... stating what thaT THING is! Is there really any need for all this folderol about philosophies and worlds ?! What ‘worlds ’? Do you really doubt that my arms can reach right into your world and twist your scrawny neck?!” I knew this reaction to be bad. Yes, probably not the inner response of a man who loved the Truth and sought the balm of her company, abiding at rest in her peaceful sanctum. Indeed, the present doubt that I was such a man, a man at all fit for the task I had taken upon myself ( to follow the promptings of my soul to the Truth in this matter of Our Humanity) , was a convulsing component of my ill-feeling. O Truth, do I love you, and take joy in you - or am I enraged by you? AND Then what am I ?! Far from abiding quietly in her sanctum, I was run- ning amuck, swiping clean her mantelpiece and dashing her vases to the floor. Meanwhile the Professor had continued: “The idea of what things really are: in philosophy we call this concern M e ta - physics ( what things really are is a Metaphysical question) . And don’t you see? What things really are depends upon your prior Metaphysical commitments ( there is a God, there is nothing but matter, etc.) . So who counts as an ‘ expert’, as an ‘authority ’ - well, it all depends.” He concluded his speech thus: “A doctor is not a metaphysician; he is a physician. His concern is not What things are; it is What is wrong with you. I trust him to tell me if this mole on my nose is dubious: I trust him with the defining features of a dubious mole , not with the defining features of a human being .” Mentally exhausted, I left the Professor with the most rudimentary of gracious goodbyes and stumbled into the street, my brains throbbing. I wished to mother my aching head ( or put it out of its misery) , but I also knew that the reason I wished to do so was that I could not free it of what the Professor had placed within it. Was it the truth? I did not know - but I could not eject it! How I wished to lay hold of some simple argument and club the Professor’s words to dust and powder, to be swept out the door of my mind: yet I had none with which to do it. His words sat there like crates of stones, enraging me precisely because I could not move them. The only thing clear to me was that this simple matter was not as simple as I had wished it to be. There on the sidewalk, before I left the Professor, a last shred of wit allowed me to ask a single question: “But according to your philosophy, P rof. GROAN, tell me: what is it ? By your metaphysics, what is that thing in a woman, a woman you call human, and who is, as we say, ‘reproducing’ - ... what is it then that is about to be born?!” He looked at me as if I had reached for his wallet - but then his expression softened: “We need time for that, my boy. In my philosophy we would need to consider the consequences of any manner of answer we might give ... and circumstances alter cases, as you know. So another time, another time,” and his door clicked shut. I n the days that followed I tried to extract from the professor’s words the relevant conclusions. But what were they?! “There are no experts .” That cannot be correct, for manifestly there are. Why are there experts about cells and not about men, I wondered. Was the proper conclusion that “there is no answer to this question about the resident of the womb except all the answers : his answer , her answer , every answer under the sun according to every possible metaphysics ”? But if that were the relevant conclusion, my goodness: how then could we agree upon anything? It occurred to me then that I had yet to look into the history of this problem . Did we once have consensus, in the establishing of what is human and, if so, whatever could have happened? That, it seemed, the history books would answer and I rushed to the library. N o. 2 28 MAY 2012 } } The D I S S E N T I N G F U T I L I T A R I A N { { LE T T E R S T O M E M B E R S O F P A R L I A M E N T F R O M A C I T I Z E N O N T H E S U B J E C T O F T H E P R O P O S E D I N V E S T I G AT I O N I N T O O U R H U M A N I T Y P r e f a b d e b a te , c h e a p c h u n k s o f t h o u g h t , d u m p e d o n y o u r p l a t e , r e a d y o r n o t ! B The Honourable .................... , M.P. House of Commons Ottawa
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Transcript
D EAR HONOURABLE
MEMBERS. I pray that
my last effort proved a small comfort.
How few understand the difficulty
you face in having all our hardest
questions pushed upon you. That
you might be vindicated, and
sleep the sleep of the just, let me
continue to relate how I came to
see your wisdom in pushing away
t h at f o u l i s s u e .
Last week I ended with my visit to Prof .
GROAN, a political philosopher friend, a visit,
I said, that left me decidedly uneasy. “It is
wonderful,” said GROAN, “that Mr. vALeuR-
de -bO I s has directed the government
(in his proposed deliberations on the question
of our humanity) to be guided by ‘the relevant
experts’. but he has evidently decided, to boot,
whom these experts are.”
“I mean, he has not decided this just for
himself,” said my friend, “he has decided it
the same way for everyone else: he has
named the ‘relevant experts’ as ‘medical science’.
The law, he says, is out of step with ‘the
medical evidence about when a child actually does become
a human being.’ do you not find it odd, my dear
man, that he has called for open enquiry and
in the very same breath closed the mode
of enquiry, predefined the make-up of the
panel of experts? His Motion asks about
‘the preponderance of medical evidence’: well, are the
‘relevant experts’ really just doctors?”
“but whom else should we consider?” I asked.
“He is a religious man, you have said;
presumably, for a believer, the word of God
has some claim to expertise: why not hear
the views of pastors and priests? And could
you really stop there in a country such as
ours? Why not rabbis and imams? Why not
shamans, the spiritual leaders in traditional
First Nations communities who have special
knowledge of the spirit world? but are such
figures experts for those of us who believe
in no supernatural realm? What experts, I
ask, do the rest of us recognize in this
regard? There are those like myself who
guide their lives not by a religion but by
a philosophy.”
The complexion of the issue was changing
second by second, at about the rate of my
rapidly drooping face. but my astonishment
seemed only to egg the Professor on.
“In fact, I believe we must go farther
down this line,” he added. “Is there
really such a thing as ‘ex p e rt i s e ’ per se :
experts for you and I, no matter who we
are, with respect to any given thing? Is not
‘ex p e rt i s e ’ in fact a philosophical notion?
I mean,” he continued, “God is an expert for
some; he is the very s u p r e m e aut h o r ity
for those who inhabit religious views of
the world. but he is not an expert in my
world - how could he be, when he is not in
my world?”
“My expert is William James, John dewey - the
pragmatist philosophers. Or, rather: you could
even say that my expert is myself , as the
idea of whom I would call expert originates
inside of me! Perhaps you find that strange
but strange, indeed, is life. Life, my dear man,
is messy. - And here is my point,” he continued.
He did continue. I was rather wishing he
would not, as I wanted nothing better than
to run off and cradle my head in a sling
or wrap it in a damp towel, or drown it. -
“Good heavens,” I raged in the inwardness
of my thoughts (where, mentally, I was
shrieking at the top of my lungs), “we are
talking about stating what a human being
i s ! About saying what thaT wretched
THING , in your wife’s bulging belly, that
is about to be born ... stating what thaT
THING is! Is there really any need for
all this folderol about philosophies and
wor l d s ?! What ‘worlds ’? do you really
doubt that my arms can reach right into
your world and twist your scrawny neck?!”
I knew this reaction to be bad. Yes, probably
not the inner response of a man who loved the
Truth and sought the balm of her company,
abiding at rest in her peaceful sanctum.
Indeed, the present doubt that I was such
a man, a man at all fit for the task I had
taken upon myself (to follow the promptings
of my soul to the Truth in this matter of
Our Humanity), was a convulsing component
of my ill-feeling. O Truth, do I love you,
and take joy in you - or am I enraged by
you? AND Then what am I?! Far from
abiding quietly in her sanctum, I was run-
ning amuck, swiping clean her mantelpiece
and dashing her vases to the floor.
Meanwhile the Professor had continued:
“The idea of what thing s really are :
in philosophy we call this concern Meta-
physics (what things really are is a
Metaphysical question). And don’t you
see? What things really are depends upon
your prior Metaphysical commitments (there
is a God, there is nothing but matter, etc.).
so who counts as an ‘expert’, as an
‘aut h o r ity ’ - well, it all depends.”
He concluded his speech thus: “A
doctor is not a metaphysician; he
is a physician. His concern is not
What things are; it is What
is wrong with you. I trust him
to tell me if this mole on my nose
is dubious: I trust him with the
defining features of a dubious
mole , not with the defining features of a
human being .”
Mentally exhausted, I left the Professor
with the most rudimentary of gracious
goodbyes and stumbled into the street, my
brains throbbing. I wished to mother my
aching head (or put it out of its misery),
but I also knew that the reason I wished to
do so was that I could not free it of what
the Professor had placed within it. Was it
the truth? I did not know - but I could not
eject it!
How I wished to lay hold of some simple
argument and club the Professor’s words to
dust and powder, to be swept out the door
of my mind: yet I had none with which
to do it. His words sat there like crates
of stones, enraging me precisely because I
could not move them. The only thing clear
to me was that this simple matter was not
as simple as I had wished it to be .
There on the sidewalk, before I left the
Professor, a last shred of wit allowed me
to ask a single question: “but according to
your philosophy, Prof . GROAN, tell me:
what is it? by your metaphysics, what is
that thing in a woman, a woman you call
human, and who is, as we say, ‘reproducing’
- ... what is it then that is about to be
born?!”
He looked at me as if I had reached for his
wallet - but then his expression softened:
“We need time for that, my boy. In my
philosophy we would need to consider the
consequences of any manner of answer we
might give ... and circumstances alter cases,
as you know. so another time, another time,”
and his door clicked shut.
I n the days that followed I tried to
extract from the professor’s words the
relevant conclusions. but what were they?!
“There are no experts .” That cannot be
correct, for manifestly there are. Why are
there experts about cells and not about men,
I wondered.
Was the proper conclusion that “there is no
answer to this question about the
resident of the womb except all the
answers : his answer , her answer , every
answer under the sun according to every
possible metaphysics”? but if that were
the relevant conclusion, my goodness: how
then could we agree upon anything?
It occurred to me then that I had yet to look
into the h i sto ry o f t h i s p r o b l e m . did
we once have consensus, in the establishing
of what is human and, if so, whatever could
have happened? That, it seemed, the history
books would answer and I rushed to the library.
No.
2 28 MAY
2012}}
The DIssen TIng Fu TIlITarIan {{
L ET T E R S TO M EMB E R S O F PA R L I A M E N T F R OM A C I T I Z E N O N T H E S U B J E CT O F T H E P R O P O S E D I N V E ST I G AT I O N I N TO O U R H U M A N I T Y
P r e - f a b d e b a t e , c h e a p c h u n k s o f t h o u g h t , d u m p e d o n y o u r p l a t e , r e a d y o r n o t !