Paving the Road to Evil .

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions”. Although the concept of hell has become somewhat obscured in these enlightened times, we all agree that there is such a thing as evil. Creators of horror media feast on it. Nobody denies that evil exists in the world, but an awful lot of it seems a result of somebody’s good intentions .

For example, we all might easily agree that a psychopath kidnapping a 4-year-old and torturing her to death is an act of pure evil. Yet the same outcome, on a massive scale, might happen as “collateral damage” in what many regard as a just war. In such cases, I suppose, we could say that the event was evil, but the people who caused it were acting with justifiable intentions in a good cause .

It is all very well to dilute the idea of evil to the “intent of those causing it”. That goes right back to the old monotheistic question of why an omnipotent God allows evil to happen. And it helps us build a bearable framework around an unbearable tragedy .

The problem with that – and it always has been – is that we degrade our moral sense and treat evil in a rather cavalier attitude. Fortified by a contradictory certainty that we can clearly determine intent, and can easily assign relative weight (“how evil”) to what should be a uniquely absolute moral judgment .

Anyway, I surely see a lot of earnest paving going on all around me these days .

Joy

In my same moments, I simply rejoice in being conscious and aware. A perfect enchanted unity. I reject the artificial division of body and mind, and the still more degraded notion of defining mind as logic. Down that useless path wanders the progress of AI .

We need not celebrate life itself so much as awareness. True awareness, of course, is built on life. An organism that is aware in any sense possesses consciousness. Without running off to deeper metaphysics, I find my own consciousness the ultimate glory of all I am .

Logic, after all, is a barren brittle construct. The joy in solving a puzzle has nothing inherently logical about it. The joy is an awareness of having achieved a solution .

My heresy is to claim that awareness – enabling that joy – requires life, requires a body. Whatever we’ve constructed without life will lack that. No joy. No awareness. No consciousness. Logic will exist, but never the actual exuberance of being .

I have a short “objective” window of existence as measured in years, although my subjective time feels infinite. During that opportunity, I joyfully seize the world and myself in the universe .

I pity those unaware of their own precious gift.

Science has value, as does logic, but that value is hardly logical. Without resort to dry ancient or futuristic metaphysics, I am free to expand into infinity.

Aesthetics

The old Roman saying went “there is no questioning taste”. Even if we hate what someone else likes, even if we think it is evil, it remains true that that person enjoys it. So aesthetics is an almost impossible ideal on which to base society, or even an activity like art .

Of course, within any subculture or social group, argument is possible. Religions thrive on it – the ultimate form of an aesthetic outlet is probably deep faith. Less life-changing agreements – as in art criticism – are all around us. Fashion, food, morality, even life purpose. What looks good to us? What constitutes a masterpiece ?

Unfortunately, an extremely finely tuned aesthetic sense in anything usually brings problems. The least is an individual obsession, the worst is mob madness. Fine art is littered with the judgments of serious critics which have aged into silly constipated irrelevance .

I found that I must spend effort – before making an aesthetic judgment _ to understand the context. “A beautiful tree” might mean almost anything depending on where your mind is coming from. Are you painting a picture or evaluating lumber possibilities?

Realizing that – and understanding that most aesthetics are careful and often valid in one way or another may be one of the necessary conditions of wisdom .

Microcultures

For a while, “microclimates” were as much in vogue in viniculture as “terroir.” Any gardener knows that growth conditions vary immensely in small spaces – sun, shade, wet, dry, exposed, sheltered. Some plants do well in one kind of space, not so well in another. When it gets to the size of a large hill or a sizable pond – ah! Microclimate !

Naturally there are limits. A lake may moderate heat locally in summer, but deep winter – macro climate – will be harsh. No matter how “protected,” really deep cold will kill vines. And unusual events like hail, drought, fire, or disease respect no tiny differences .

Yet “microclimate” is real enough. It is where vines, animals and nature exist most of the time. Just as what I will call “microcultures“ where an individual resides in society. Family, friends, surroundings. The tiny and local is usually the most significant element of our consciousness, day by day .

Yes, there are greater things that override it. War, economics, technology, social movements. But that does not make microcultures any less real nor – much of the time – less important than grand historic events .

So, like any adaptive species, try to enjoy your current microculture, or find one more compatible. Even if it is just hanging out with people you like .

Hegel Madness

The philosopher Hegel proposed that knowledge advances in a series of intertwined opposites. A “thesis” was declared, an “antithesis” developed and the combined “synthesis” was closer to “truth”. It’s a comforting thought in these times of polarized political and social dynamics .

But there are problems with this cozy illusion .

With evidence-based observation it is pretty quickly determined which is more right. To state that “iron is hard” is not negated nor modified by spouting “iron is soft”. Even if true under certain conditions such as high heat, soft iron is not what most of us encounter most of the time. No synthesis possible .

Then there is the problem of balance. A bucket of boiling water poured into a bucket of ice water might synthesize to a nice bathtub temperature. But a thimbleful of boiling water into a bucket of ice water will hardly modify it .

Finally – and most important for social views – are we even talking about the same thing? A bucket of boiling oil added to a bucket of ice water will do nothing but give us a horrible mess, mostly separated, but with foul water and useless oil.

I’ve never much appreciated pure philosophers. My mind has been fully corrupted by science. Theorize, test, modify.

Philosophers remain active in all areas we cannot test, such as meaning, future and the many instances when consciousness and life are just too complicated. But I never trust their ideas – not thesis, nor antithesis, nor synthesis .

Harassment as Law

Law is regarded as impartial and majestic, in the United States trying to assure that only the guilty get punished. Harassment, a social taboo, has almost always been almost – or more – effective. “No Irish need apply”. Racial red lines for housing. Religious “shunning” of sinners .

You can’t greatly modify innate social behavior, so that type of punishment will probably last as long as people do. However, when government gets into the act, law loses much of its meaning.

The Wall Street journal has run an article on what most of us already knew. Merely arresting and charging someone – even if totally false and later proved so – has dire consequences. Charges, name, address are published. Person loses job, is threatened at home, maybe physically attacked, often must move and start over. Spends a lot of money. All “legal”. All morally wrong, from our traditional view of what “legal” should mean .

In this age of connection, unsupported rumors from “influencers” are bad enough. When the government adds police and other armed services to the mix, it is toxic to all the liberties Americans thought they enjoyed .

Probably no easy answer. Police forces always have a hard job and think they are in the right. When government tolerates bad behavior, there is no escape but to hide away and hope for the best .

Inheritance

Children are strongly molded during childhood. Families try to make them fit into society, society encourages them to do so responsibly, then tries to further shape them to (or break the mold if it is bad) as a child grows to adulthood .

All well and good. Childhoods are as varied as families, and within reason that is probably healthy for the culture. “Within reason”, especially with regard to wealth and opportunity, is usually the sticking point. The basic dynamics are pretty clear. For children to celebrate their family background is normal and healthy, as is – sometimes – loathing it. As adults we know the importance of our early influences. We can be proud, or dismayed, can continue the connections or break them .

What I never understood was believing that one’s parents’ deeds counted as worth for any individual. Much less so those of grandparents and beyond. We now have a wave of folks who put on the mantle of ancestors and claim they deserve its status .

Beyond a few generations we are all one pool, genetically and culturally. I do not care if your genes somehow connect to Genghis Khan, Lucrezia Borgia, or Sitting Bull. You alone are responsible for you today. You have no right to claim special treatment because of what presumed ancestors did (even if most of that was simply arriving here before others) .

It’s a stupid, lazy, sloppy, and destructive arrogance, understandable in these times of identity crisis, but helpful to no one and nothing .

Shock

In art, as in society, bland beauty is out, shock is in. We are inundated with machine replicated loveliness. No real complaints about that – it surely makes our lives better. I’m not about to harp on “bourgeois aesthetics” – taste is always fickle and in the eye of the beholder .

Ah, but to get someone’s attention? That is difficult. Pretty much impossible to out-machine machines – folks can easily buy relatively cheap stuff indistinguishable from the original masterpieces of the ages. And the whole world of artisans, amateurs, and now AI churns out more mountains of stuff hour by hour, day by day, year by year .

All that remains is notoriety. Become famous. A red x on a black splotch done by a celebrity is worth something. A ceiling that resembles a palatial achievement done by Jane Doe – not so much. So shock it is – blood, guts, mess or – as Tom Wolfe called it – aesthetics of “the painted word” – slavishly adhering to an artificial intellectual formulation .

And so it is becoming with work, life, being. Shock everyone to “go viral”. Become well known. Stand out from the crowd. No matter how crude, stupid, senseless – shock the complacent herd into frenzies .

Ah, elusive success .

Ostrich

Perhaps there is something useful in the apocryphal legend of the ostrich sticking its head in the sand to avoid seeing trouble. In these expansive times, ignoring obscure and distant threats may be an evolutionary advantage .

After all, in the “big picture” we are all doomed, both personally and in our wider manifestations of society and cosmos. We stand on our tiny patch of desert scrub, and perhaps stay there or run a short distance to somewhere nearby. We ignore our inevitable death, or we would fail to function at all .

So in a time when horizons have become nearly infinite and imaginations run wild, maybe a head underground is not so stupid. We are aware of every sparrow that falls in the world, and we can do little or nothing about it. There is too much awareness, omniscience without omnipotence, and that may poison our souls .

Nobody can withdraw completely. Even that pretend ostrich has to come up for food and water. There is still at least a little truth to “think globally, act locally”. But maybe only a little .

In a hysterical interconnected age, too much awareness might be a very dangerous thing to any single individual. It surely is to my own sanity .

Blizzard

Blizzards, like everything else, are not what they used to be. Oh, snow and wind remain, but consequences tend to be trivial. In 1888, a Long Island blizzard killed hundreds, caught unexpectedly in the fields after a warm spring day. In my youthful 1950s, extended electric outage had my mom chopping up furniture to keep the fireplace going. The current “historic” blizzard of 2026 didn’t even bring down many trees, cause extensive disruption of electricity, close roads more than a day, much inconvenience shoppers or let children have a holiday .

It’s a quite robust world for things that we can prepare for. I not only do not complain, but am in awe at how truly competent our society can be. Not only blizzards, but also other disasters, plagues, and extended patterns like drought, famine. War, of course, remains. And the stubborn, if limited, evil of certain individuals .

Anyway, for a day or so we all enjoyed a true frisson of dangerous disruption. All the better because reality turned out far gentler than imagination. We are quite spoiled .

I try to emphasize that all the time. To be grateful for the normal, the calm, the taken for granted. Glory in how much lives have truly improved for many over the last few centuries. For a little while, to truly embrace the miracles of economic progress .