Latest news with #Nietzsche
Scroll.in
25-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Scroll.in
Myth, machines, and revolution in ancient India: Roger Zelazny's 1967 novel ‘Lord of Light'
The circular nature of time has long been a favorite among those interested in philosophy, spirituality, and literature. There is Nietzsche with his theory of eternal return, Hinduism and its concept of the kalachakra, Gabriel García Márquez's large ring of Aureliano Buendias in One Hundred Years of Solitude, and the deliciously tense scene in True Detective, where Rust Cohle (played by Matthew McConaughey) smashes his hand down upon a cold drink can and explains to his hapless interrogators that 'time is a flat circle'. Roger Zelazny's 1967 novel Lord of Light – winner of the 1968 Hugo Award for science-fiction – makes this circular nature of time the book's primary conceit by making the far future reflect an ancient past. In the process, he marries science to fantasy, fuses myth and history together, and shakes up religion with colonialism to serve a technicolor dream that is part memory, part prophecy. The Star of India The story is set on an unnamed planet colonised thousands of years ago by the crew of an Earthen spaceship called The Star of India. At the time of this colonisation, human technology is already advanced enough to be indistinguishable from magic. In addition to space travel, it allows people to wield superhuman powers, called 'aspects' in the novel, move souls from one body to another, and create fantastic weapons. The planet's native energy-beings are called rakashas, or demons, by the colonisers, who hunt and imprison them. The planet's current population is descended from the first settlers, the spaceship's crew, who have styled themselves after the Hindu pantheon and rule the world as gods from a sky-city called Heaven. Since these 'gods' control the technology of soul-transfer, they can decide whether someone is reincarnated as a prince or a pauper, a Brahmin or a Shudra. They also have ways of knowing exactly how much charity one does (prayer-machines at temples to keep track of donations) and whether one entertains blasphemous ideas (psych-probes to detect errant thoughts). To an extent, this is the old speculative trick of repeatedly throwing 'what-if' questions at a particular situation, concept, or idea (in this case, a religion). What if reincarnation was real? What if there was a way of measuring karma? What if the gods were really petty enough to keep tally of everyone's prayers? To his particular credit, however, Zelazny extends the tendrils of his speculation to touch history. As the fun-house mirror of his story reflects coloniser overlords from the future as ancient Hindu deities, so it reflects their challenger as the Buddha, the story's hero. The non-linear narrative begins with Yama (the god of death) recalling the Buddha from a blissful non-existence, or nirvana. Going back and forth in time, we learn that Sam, as he prefers to be called, was once the reclusive prince Siddhartha, one of the planet's first colonisers. On a fateful day, he came out of his self-imposed exile to get a new body, and saw the world choking under excessive religious control. He grew so disgusted by the actions of his former friends and colleagues that he declared war against Heaven and started preaching an alternate religion (Buddhism) to the masses. This new-age Buddha loses many battles, even dies a few times, but his ideas attack heaven like persistent rust slowly spreading over the hull of a warship. One by one, gods like Tak, Kubera, Ratri, Yama, and Krishna come over to his side. Heaven finds its ranks, conviction, and resolve weakening steadily over time. As we are informed by the work of scholars like BR Ambedkar (notably in his 1948 book The Untouchables: Who Were They and Why They Became Untouchables), a version of this struggle did play out in ancient India with somewhat similar results. Buddhism rose as an alternative to the oppressive practices of Brahminism. It was particularly attractive to those who did not want to sacrifice their valuable animals like horses and cows in the frequent yajnas required by Brahmin priests. In fact, according to Ambedkar, it was in reaction to the growing popularity of Buddhism that many Brahmins gave up animal sacrifices and declared beef-eating a mortal sin. Like Sam's defeats on the battlefield, Buddhism lost a lot of ground when the Buddhist king Brihadratha Maurya was overthrown and assassinated by his Brahmin commander-in-chief Pushyamitra Shunga (an event comparable to the French Revolution in its scale and socio-political effect, according to Ambedkar). After his death, Sam, like the real Buddha, is also declared an avatar of Vishnu, and his philosophies are appropriated by heavenly decree. The lack of outrage As a (non-practising) Hindu and an Indian, while reading Lord of Light 58 years after its release, I often wondered why it had not caused a furore upon its publication. Unlike apolitical mythological retellings (say, Neil Gaiman's Norse Mythology or Stephen Fry's Mythos: Greek Myths Retold), Lord of Light is not just interested in repackaging religious stories. Zelazny puts a finger on sensitive points, say by alluding to the literal demonisation of a native population, or by framing the rise of Buddhism as a reformist religious revolution. My personal theory about what may have worked in Zelazny's favour is the perception of science fiction as non-serious literature. By definition, non-serious literature does not merit serious consideration, while religious hardliners – across religions – are very serious people. They reserve their rage for books by Booker-winning literary stars, not mere Hugo Award-winners like Zelazny. Critics and fellow writers also have similar notions of seriousness sometimes, which they extend to appreciation as well as outrage. This is probably why, in his introduction to the book, science-fiction writer Adam Roberts limits himself to appreciating Zelazny's blending of fantasy and sci-fi tropes (a neat trick, admittedly) while defending him against imaginary charges of orientalism. Similarly, in a 2010 article for The Guardian, Sam Jordison found pleasure in the book's 'dappy dialogue, eastern-tinged scene setting, and epic battles', instead of anything more literary (read serious). Timing is also important. When Salman Rusdhie's The Satanic Verses came out in 1988, Khomeini, Supreme Leader of Iran, had been in power for less than a decade. He and his minions really needed to demonstrate their capacity for taking offence. On the other hand, in 1967, when Lord of Light came out, India's image in the West was all about yoga–Gandhi–spirituality, not religious extremism. Rank-and-file fanatics, such as they were, were not ambitious enough to mine books for religious outrage. At the end of Zelazny's story, the Buddha emerges victorious from a climactic battle and liberates his land from religious control. In the real world, however, we are further along the cycle of time. One hopes that new Indian readers will engage with the book on a less superficial level than its Western audience. After all, having been dead for the last 30 years, Zelazny is safe from outrage in death. AM Gautam is the author of Indian Millennials: Who Are They, Really?. His literary interests lie primarily in cultural commentary, essays, and speculative fiction.
Yahoo
22-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Empathy can take a toll – but 2 philosophers explain why we should see it as a strength
In an interview with podcaster Joe Rogan, billionaire and Trump megadonor Elon Musk offered his thoughts about what motivates political progressives to support immigration. In his view, the culprit was empathy, which he called 'the fundamental weakness of Western civilization.' As shocking as Musk's views are, however, they are far from unique. On the one hand, there is the familiar and widespread conservative critique of 'bleeding heart' liberals as naive or overly emotional. But there is also a broader philosophical critique that raises worries about empathy on quite different and less political grounds, including findings in social science. Empathy can make people weaker – both physically and practically, according to social scientists. Consider the phenomenon known as 'empathy fatigue,' a major source of burnout among counselors, nurses and even neurosurgeons. These professionals devote their lives to helping others, yet the empathy they feel for their clients and patients wears them down, making it harder to do their jobs. As philosophers, we agree that empathy can take a toll on both individuals and society. However, we believe that, at its core, empathy is a form of mental strength that enables us to better understand the impact of our actions on others, and to make informed choices. The term 'empathy' only entered the English language in the 1890s. But the general idea of being moved by others' suffering has been a subject of philosophical attention for millennia, under labels such as 'pity,' 'sympathy' and 'compassion.' One of the earliest warnings about pity in Western philosophy comes from the Greek Stoic philosopher Epictetus. In his 'Discourses,' he offers general advice about how to live a good life, centered on inner tranquility and freedom. When it comes to emotions and feelings, he writes: 'He is free who lives as he wishes to live … And who chooses to live in sorrow, fear, envy, pity, desiring and failing in his desires, attempting to avoid something and falling into it? Not one.' Feeling sorry for another person or feeling pity for them compromises our freedom, in Epictetus's view. Those negative feelings are unpleasant, and nobody would choose them for themselves. Empathy would clearly fall into this same category, keeping us from living the good life. A similar objection emerged much later from the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche. Nietzsche framed his discussion in terms of 'Mitleid' – a German term that can be translated as either 'pity' or 'compassion.' Like Epictetus, Nietzsche worried that pity or compassion was a burden on the individual, preventing them from living the good life. In his book 'Daybreak,' Nietzsche warns that such feelings could impair the very people who try to help others. Epictetus's and Nietzsche's worries about pity or compassion carry over to empathy. Recall, the phenomenon of empathy fatigue. One psychological explanation for why empathic people experience fatigue and even burnout is that empathy involves a kind of mirroring of other people's mental life, a mirroring that can be physically unpleasant. When someone you love is in pain, you don't just believe that they are in pain; you may feel it as if it is actually happening to you. Results from neuroscience and cognitive psychology research indicate that there are different brain mechanisms involved in merely observing another's pain versus empathizing with it. The latter involves unpleasant sensations of the type we experience when we are in pain. Empathy is thus difficult to bear precisely because being in pain is difficult to bear. And this sharpens the Stoic and Nietzschean worries: Why bother empathizing when it is unpleasant and, perhaps, not even necessary for helping others? The answer for why one should see empathy as a strength starts with a key insight from 20th century philosophy about the nature of knowledge. That insight is based on a famous thought experiment by the Australian philosopher Frank Jackson. Jackson invites us to imagine a scientist named Mary who has studied colors despite having lived her entire life in a black and white room. She knows all the facts about the spectrum distribution of light sources and vision science. She's read descriptions of the redness of roses and azaleas. But she's never seen color herself. Does Mary know everything about redness? Many epistemologists – people who study the nature of knowledge – argue that she does not. What Mary learns when she sees red for the first time is elusive. If she returns to her black and white room, never to see any colored objects again, her knowledge of the colors will likely diminish over time. To have a full, rich understanding of colors, one needs to experience them. Thoughts like these led the philosopher and logician Bertrand Russell to argue that experience delivers a special kind of knowledge of things that can't be reduced to knowledge of facts. Seeing, hearing, tasting and even feeling delivers what he called 'knowledge by acquaintance.' We have argued in a book and recent articles that Jackson's and Russell's conclusions apply to pain. Consider a variation on Jackson's thought experiment: Suppose Mary knows the facts about pain but hasn't experienced it. As before, it would seem like her understanding of pain is incomplete. In fact, though Mary is a fictional character, there are real people who report having never experienced pain as an unpleasant sensation – a condition known as 'pain asymbolia'. In Russell's terminology, such people haven't personally experienced how unpleasant pain can be. But even people without pain asymbolia can become less familiar with pain and hardship during times when things are going well for them. All of us can temporarily lose the rich experiential grasp of what it is like to be distressed. So, when we consider the pain and suffering of others in the abstract and without directly feeling it, it is very much like trying to grasp the nature of redness while being personally acquainted only with a field of black and white. That, we argue, is where empathy comes in. Through experiential simulation of another's feelings, empathy affords us a rich grasp of the distress that others feel. The upshot is that empathy isn't just a subjective sensation. It affords us a more accurate understanding of others' experiences and emotions. Empathy is thus a form of knowledge that can be hard to bear, just as pain can be hard to bear. But that's precisely why empathy, properly cultivated, is a strength. As one of us has argued, it takes courage to empathically engage with others, just as it takes courage to see and recognize problems around us. Conversely, an unwillingness to empathize can stem from a familiar weakness: a fear of knowledge. So, when deciding complex policy questions, say, about immigration, resisting empathy impairs our decision-making. It keeps us from understanding what's at stake. That is why it is vital to ask ourselves what policies we would favor if we were empathically acquainted with, and so fully informed of, the plight of others. This article is republished from The Conversation, a nonprofit, independent news organization bringing you facts and trustworthy analysis to help you make sense of our complex world. It was written by: Emad H. Atiq, Cornell University and Colin Marshall, University of Washington Read more: Too many people with back pain call ambulances or visit the ED. Here's why that's a problem Empathy is the secret ingredient that makes cooperation – and civilization – possible The morality of feeling equal empathy for strangers and family alike The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Observer
17-05-2025
- General
- Observer
Sometimes... silence speaks much more than words
We talk too much. So many of us seem to need attention, so we speak what is in, or on, our minds, without having thought through, or processed sufficiently, speaking without thinking those thoughts. Is it narcissism? Is it insecurity? Is it a lack of confidence? Or is it just the awkwardness of a gap in conversation, a quietness, that must be filled? Philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche wrote of our predilection for speaking 'impulsively' and usually about ourselves, as an obtuse 'means to conceal oneself,' not being mysterious, but to conceal the deepest version of our vulnerabilities, complexities and fears. His observations on the integrity of the human condition urge us to more introspective and reflective, to be more prepared for conversation. Nietzsche believed we were all conceptually capable of 'doing,' but more importantly 'being' better and as he wrote in 1883, being superhuman in terms of the human ideal, to use his German, 'Übermensch.' as being able to relinquish those beliefs, traditions, customs and learnings that we just accept, of our predecessors, the best among us relinquishing all that, its comfort and safety, in the pursuit of a coterie of yet unimagined, limitless in every way values, characteristics and possibilities. If we look at the most remarkable of achievements and achievers, in our lifetimes, we would perhaps find it difficult not to see some signs of this, in what we would see as sheer brilliance of thought and deed, think Marie Curie; Einstein; Ibn Sina; Galileo; Hypatia, da Vinci; Mozart; Michaelangelo; Pythagoras; Shakespeare; Turing; and the Wright Brothers, to name just a few, including a couple of 'super' women. Perhaps Nietzsche would reflect with some satisfaction on the diversity of these more recent 'graduates' of his posited ideals, being physicist Marie Curie's cancer research against society's most malignant presence; shaking his head at the scope of aviation and space travel in the wake of the Wright Brother's pioneering of manned flight; the possibilities revealed in logician Turing's 'Enigma' discovery, revealing more can be attributed to science and mathematics than ever before and what about Orwell's 1984? Was he, or was he not, a genuine visionary, ahead of his time in stripping back our greed, our fears and our need for love? All of these 'greats,' may have been scientifically, literarily, and even insanely impatient, they rarely spoke without something meaningful to say. Thanks to 'progress' and mobile phones, not only is ill-timed, ill-thought speaking and conversation ubiquitous in society, but more destructively, through Twitter, now X, with its tweets and retweets, SMS text messages, WhatsApp, Facebook, LinkedIn, Instagram, Pinterest, Reddit, SnapChat, TikTok, YouTube, Twitch, BlueSky, Quora... even MailChimp! The modern generation see something online and have this irrational urge to respond straight away, immediately, without thinking... either with excessive enthusiasm, or intense indignation and they must do it now! The problem is that so many of these immediate, ill-thought, ill-considered, knee-jerk responses, their need to be heard now, upon reflection, offer only regret at their haste. This generation does have good thoughts and valuable opinions, but must prove wiser and think first, then listen! Deliberation may look like lethargy, but is at the heart of wit, aptitude and intellect; and laughs loudest at the rampant vacuity of the asinine, the daft and the inept. They are better than this! Even having reconsidered, our youth, maybe any youth at any time, finds it difficult to take a step back, let alone apologise, because being wrong is something many can accept, but few will admit to anyone other than themselves... and we worry that we don't understand them. We can see that most of today's youth, most of this generation, have enormous potential and real prospects and it is often only their impatience that is holding them back. Bernie Taupin's profound lyrics in the chorus of Sir Elton John's 'Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word,' are so appropriate for today, yet, with a little more thought, we can avoid sadness, absurdity and... so much sorrow. BLURB The modern generation see something online and have this irrational urge to respond straight away, immediately, without thinking... either with excessive enthusiasm, or intense indignation and they must do it now!
Time of India
01-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Time of India
Animals More Dangerous Than Gorilla: 100 Men vs Gorilla? Five animals that are more dangerous than a silverback
There's a reason the ancients spoke in parables and the Greeks turned beasts into gods. Because when a man looks into the eyes of a silverback gorilla, he doesn't just see fur and fangs. Tired of too many ads? go ad free now He sees himself. Only purer. Stronger. Angrier. Free. No job. No taxes. No LinkedIn. Just raw, unfiltered id wrapped in 200 kilos of sinew and testosterone. So when the internet erupts with the age-old Reddit thought experiment — 'Could 100 unarmed men beat a silverback gorilla in a fight?' — it isn't just banter. It's masculinity's mirror maze. A digital colosseum where Nietzsche meets Joe Rogan. But here's the twist in this Netflix nature special: the gorilla isn't the final boss. He's not the apex predator . He's just the tutorial level. The hairy handshake before the real monsters crawl in. So step aside, Kong. It's time to meet five creatures that would not just beat a silverback — they'd body him, bury him, and meme about it later. And yes, Jim Ross is screaming at ringside. 1. Saltwater Crocodile: The Cold-Blooded Executioner Salty being salty. Huge 15 plus foot salt water crocodile!!! #crocodile #catchmeoutside Height : 0 on charisma. 100 on kill count. Move set : Death roll, ambush tackle, bite of the damned. If the silverback is a barroom brawler, the saltie is a mafia hitman with scales. It doesn't puff its chest or beat its breast — it just waits. Silently. Patiently. Until the water explodes and something disappears forever. We're talking about a prehistoric murder lizard with a 3,700 PSI bite — that's like being clamped by the gates of hell. It doesn't fight. It ends things. A gorilla might break your jaw. A saltie breaks physics. Tired of too many ads? go ad free now If they ever met in the wild, the gorilla wouldn't know it's a fight until it's halfway digested. 2. African Bush Elephant: The Bulldozer with Buddha Vibes ELEPHANT! - HUGE African BUSH Elephants Inside Stats : 6 tonnes of 'Don't mess with me.' Special move: Vehicular manslaughter, tusk impalement, existential crisis via eye contact. Ah, the elephant. So majestic. So wise. So utterly capable of flattening anything that breathes. This isn't a predator — it's a continent on four legs with feelings. Elephants have been known to flip trucks, uproot trees, and kill lions — and that's when they're in a good mood. A gorilla picking a fight with an African elephant is like a kettlebell challenging a freight train. It's not a battle. It's a funeral with trumpets. And yet, as it crushes you, it weeps. Poetic, no? 3. Grizzly Bear: The Mountain That Bites Back Epic grizzly bear fight! Intro music: Metallica's 'Sad But True.' Fighting style: Berserker rage meets lawnmower accident. Grizzlies aren't just strong — they're the angry gym bros of the animal kingdom. Weighing up to 680 kg and armed with claws longer than your WiFi password, they don't fight to win. They fight to erase. Their bite is 975 PSI of dental doom. Their claws can shred bark and bone. And their cardio? Surprisingly solid, considering their diet consists mostly of salmon and bad decisions. In a WWE cage match, the gorilla might get in a few jabs. But once the bear goes full Yellowstone, it's over. All that remains is fur, blood, and Joe Rogan whispering, 'Bro… did you see that?' 4. Leopard: The Silent One Who Knows Where You Sleep Leopard Hunts an Impala | Savage Kingdom Entrance theme: Mission: Impossible with a growl. Signature move: Stealth kill. Exit stage left. Don't let the size fool you — this isn't your grandma's safari cat. Leopards don't do fair fights. They do ambushes, silent kills, and unsolved mysteries. In the wild, there are documented cases of leopards snatching baby gorillas. If a silverback gets distracted for even a second, it's not a fight anymore. It's a NatGeo crime scene. A gorilla might throw punches. A leopard throws surprises. It doesn't rumble. It rewrites the ending. 5. Inland Taipan: The One-Hit Wonder From Hell The world's most venomous snake - Milking the Inland Taipan Nickname: 'The Silent Extinction.' Power rating: 1 gram of venom = 100 human funerals. The inland taipan doesn't growl, charge, or wrestle. It doesn't need to. It just delivers one perfect kiss of death and slithers away while you Google 'antivenom delivery speed.' This Aussie nightmare doesn't posture. It doesn't chase clout. It just carries enough neurotoxin in one bite to down an entire rugby team — gorilla included. While Kong is busy flexing, the taipan taps him on the ankle, injects a few milligrams of death, and exits the arena with sunglasses on. Who wins? The one who kills without caring. That's always the taipan. Final Thoughts: The silverback is a symbol. He is wrath and honour. But these five? They're reality. Brutal, indifferent, and undefeated. So next time you scroll past that '100 men vs one gorilla' debate, ask yourself: What if it was one saltie? One elephant? One bear? Because if the gorilla is the god of our rage, these five are the gods that answer, 'So what?' And as Jim Ross would scream, 'BAH GAWD, HE'S BROKEN IN HALF!'
New Indian Express
01-05-2025
- Entertainment
- New Indian Express
Why Gen Z is turning to wisdom on Instagram
Philosophy — the greatest form of liberal art. It is difficult to understand, and as they say, 'One who chases philosophy ends up losing everything.' In a world where almost everyone, right from children to the elderly, is glued to 15-20 second reels, a quiet but curious shift is unfolding on Instagram. Between beach photos and dance challenges, there's a new genre flourishing — the one of philosophy quotes, existential musings, and reflections on Friedrich Nietzsche, Albert Camus, and Marcus Aurelius. For many young people, especially Gen Z, philosophy is no longer confined to the university classroom. It's become a way to make sense of a world full of questions. 'Philosophy has become a necessary refuge for this generation,' says Debadrita Chakraborty, assistant professor in the Department of English and Other Languages at GITAM University, Hyderabad. 'We are living in a time where political and regional fundamentalism is peaking, yet young people are choosing to question it. They are thinkers, asking the right questions,' she notes. This isn't the dusty, academic philosophy in heavy old textbooks. Instead, it's bite-sized and beautifully designed, and shared by influencers on Instagram and Threads, where Nietzsche's 'God is dead' meets pastel sunsets and serif fonts. But does that make the content superficial? 'On the surface, it might seem aesthetic-driven,' Debadrita says. 'But it works because there's an audience genuinely engaging with it. People don't just stop at the visuals; many go deeper. They resonate with the thought behind the quote, and that opens the door for more reading, more questioning,' she adds. She points out that forums — digital or otherwise — that make philosophy accessible are crucial to note. 'These platforms simplify philosophy, making it less intimidating for beginners,' she states. At the English and Foreign Languages University in Hyderabad, professor Jibu Mathew George sees this shift as part of a broader cultural moment. He says, 'Philosophy today includes more than traditional academic discourse. The semantic field has expanded. What we once thought of as mere 'life thoughts or reflections' are now often included under the umbrella of philosophy.' According to him, this expansion has been shaped by two academic tendencies: analytic philosophy, which leans toward logic and precision, and continental philosophy, which engages with existential questions like class, ideology, identity. 'Today's readers are co-creators of meaning. They read Nietzsche and Camus in new ways, shaped by 21st-century contexts,' he explains. The democratisation of knowledge, particularly through the internet, has played a key role. 'Social media has created platforms where philosophy is no longer locked in academia,' he notes, adding, 'Students now access lectures, documentaries, and conversations that were previously unavailable. This is a positive shift, but with a caveat.' That caveat is interpretation. 'When you quote Karl Marx or Freud on Instagram, there's a real risk of misinterpretation. Freud never even used the word 'subconscious', but it gets thrown around all the time. These thinkers are often misunderstood when reduced to hashtags,' Jibu states. Still, both professors agree that platforms like Bookstagram are helping build a culture of reading, even if it starts with snippets. 'Social media is reshaping what it means to be 'well-read',' says Debadrita, adding, 'But the real question is: will people go beyond the quote and read the whole book?' She points out that the line between philosophy and self-reflection is becoming fluid, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. 'Gen Z can't keep a supercilious mask for long. Whatever they pick up, even unintentionally, often leads to introspection. There's a deeper need at play here,' notes Debadrita. Jibu, too, acknowledges this, saying, 'The academic and experiential are starting to cross-fertilise. What we once thought of as 'high-funda' theory is becoming part of everyday experience. But we have to ask: are these simplified versions reductive? Or are they gateways?' In a world of overstimulation and broken attention, it may just be that philosophy offers something different: stillness, structure, and a space to wonder. And for a generation trying to make meaning out of chaos, that might be exactly what they need.
