Is it possible to be happy?

The very premise of Freud's Civilizations and its Discontents is that happiness cannot be achieved unless we are allowed to express and fulfill our every desire as human beings. However, this absolute freedom would never be granted because it would supposedly lead to violence and the downfall of civilization. These conflicting points of view leave people trapped within a society where the desires of the id are suppressed, thus they are supposedly indefinitely "discontent" according to Freud. But the question is, is some measure of happiness attainable without full expression of every underlying desire?

I think that happiness can be found within a "repressed" environment, though perhaps it is fleeting. In the world of today, everybody is a consumer, which, I believe, fosters an ever-increasing desire for material things. Material things that apparently bring us a feeling of happiness to have. For example, buying a new phone or ipod or laptop or clothes or whatever it is, brings us joy. This joy is not permanent, however, as newer and better products continue to be made to entice us all. This quickly diminshes the happiness and creates a feeling of want that is insatiable - for the cycle never ends. Therefore, it is possible to find happiness with material things, but it will be temporary.

The immaterial can bring happiness as well. Love and affection for someone or from someone is considered to contribute to joy and fulfillment and I wholeheartedly agree that love is one of the happiest emotions there is, but not always - not complete happiness. Lovers can fight or grow apart or break up, there are difficult days that are anything but happy within loving relationships. Love, while definitely inciting happiness, however, does not lead to unwavering content.

So happiness is possible, but does happiness inevitably mean contentment? I feel contentment is a more permanent and concrete feeling, while happiness is fleeting and fragile. This stability makes contentment harder to achieve. And if letting our ids run wild and make all the decisions would incite violence and chaos, would the feeling of content even be possible anymore?

I think that what Adam Curtis is trying to say in his documentary is much like Freud, that contentment within civilization is impossible because desires are suppressed. And while people are unknowingly satisfyinng their id's desires by falling for advertisements and the consumer market ploys, they can be happy but not truly content with life. Perhaps that is the distinction, people can find utter peace and content beyond the confines of civilization, where they can express themselves unihibited by society. They cannot do this among other people though, for fear of violence and chaos - and without other people, how can we have society?

Basically, happiness is possible as a substitute for complete contentment. It is definitely possible to find it within civilization, through buying new things or falling in love for example. But the feeling of content, the uninterupted complete and utter enjoyment and fulfillment that comes along with it, cannot be achieved. There are too many competing factors that conflict with it. But this is the sacrifice we choose to make in order to maintain society, the temporary happiness may last for hours, days, months or years before it is interrupted...but it is always enough.

Curtis and Freud might be right about not being content, but they can never say humanity is not happy.

Socrates: A martyr-figure?

I can't decide.

I think that the problem is that martyrdom often gets muddled with personal conviction. It seems impossible to me to know whether a person's intentions are those of a martyr without their blatantly stating so. And if a person says that they are a martyr, doesn't that technically undermine their scheme?

Socrates is obviously a long-standing iconic figure in several nations worldwide due to what is believed to be his "martyrish death". However there are plenty of people who believe that Socrates was simply defending his beliefs because he was genuinely willing to die for them. I think that I am being persuaded to join this category for a number of reasons.

During his trial, Socrates indeed defends himself and his principles with passion and a perplexing logic, which I'm sure is where the "martyr-figure" label originates. I do not think, however, that Socrates's words are meant to instill a feeling of sympathy upon his audience; rather he is just speaking in the manner he usually would. The philosopher does not strike me as somebody who would wish to incite pity. He is the poverty-stricken father of three children, yet hardly makes mention of them in his testimony. He does not beg for the mercy of the court officials. Both of which would stir up compassion, if that is what Socrates was going for. Instead, he makes a point of explaining his innocence down to the tiniest detail, not for fear of punishment or death, but because he so strongly believes in what he has to say.

It is the method in which Socrates goes about cross-examining people and their ideas that both makes him a genius and leads to his condemnation. He is a man on a quest to discover whether he is most wise, as the Delphic Oracle suggests, and is therefore accustomed to cross-questioning every man he is confronted with. The logic he uses when talking to people is astounding. He seems able to find fault with any claim presented to him. And while we can see this brilliance now, I'm sure that most men that had the fortune to speak with Socrates would find their minds boggled. The man had the great talent of making men feel like fools, leading - as we discover - to his arrest for "corruption" of the youth. This Socratic Method of conversation and cross-examination is also evident in Socrates's trial. He is constantly questioning everything Meletus claims against him. This does not bode well. And in the end - though Socrates has put forth a very thorough and convincing argument - I think the court judges have just gotten fed up with him. Perhaps this persistent form of questioning assisted Socrates in achieving martyr status, because in such a situation it is impossible to tell whether he was adamantly searching out sympathy for his situation or simply trying to reach a logical conviction. Although anybody who knew what Socrates was really about would realize it was the latter.

From my interpretation of both the personality and speaking strategies of Socrates, I suppose I would have to come to the conclusion that he cannot possibly be a true martyr. The philosopher was too humble of a man, too immersed in his principles, too blunt in his speech to ever give a thought to searching out sympathy. He seemed to me to be someone who was to be taken at face value, with no hidden intentions, and I like that about him. Socrates didn't need to be a martyr because he didn't fear death. In Crito, he is even given an opportunity to escape, but he doesn't take it. Socrates has the courage to face death. Would a martyr pass up that chance? I couldn't tell you, but my gut says "probably not".

The only way to know for sure is to ask. And that brings me back to my previous query: If a martyr admits to being a martyr, isn't their martyrdom thwarted?

If you were a citizen of Omelas, would you stay or would you walk?

Would I walk away from Omelas? The conscious part of my brain, the compassionate part, the ethical part, tells me that I should say yes. Society would most likely expect me to say yes. Many other people would undoubtedly say that they themselves would walk away. However, the implications of such a statement go far beyond what the average person could comprehend. Walking away means leaving literally everything behind: your family, your friends, your livelihood - even your dog. Everything that you know would disappear the second you decided to step away from Omelas, with only the vast unknown awaiting. This is a lot to give up for the misery of one child; a sacrifice that I don't know that I would have the courage to make.

Fear often governs the process of decision-making, and I hardly think that this situation is an exception. It takes immense bravery to be able to, as was discussed in class, "excercise self-determination" and make an individual decision. This is made especially difficult when the pressures to conform are as great as they are in Omelas. Every other person that has been to visit the child has been able to accept that its existence is necessary, except for the handful that opt to walk away, never to be seen or heard from again. Which would be the easier option? Both choices have their benefits and their downfalls but neither is particularly easy to stomach.

If Omelas was truly as utopian as it seems to be, the issue of the child would never arise. A perfect society would never put the choice upon its citizens - whether purposefully or otherwise. Perhaps that is why Omelas has no guilt, to keep its people from leaving when faced with the horrible child. For I cannot believe that anyone should be able to peer into the cupboard and view the suffering within without feeling guilt. Not under normal conditions. In Omelas, the emotion has been removed completely from the repertoire of feeling and thus the child can be forgotten, neglected, and left to fester by the hundreds of people that visit.

It has been suggested that Omelas is an analogy for our own society, a statement that I can't dispute. The child could represent any number of modern day things, from children in sweatshops of third world countries to the homeless people in our very own city of Vancouver. The point that the story is trying to convey is that tragedy is all around us, poverty is what bolsters wealth, that our very lives are dependant on the misery of others. While this may only be true to a fraction of the magnitude that the people of Omelas depend on the child, the facts still stand. Need surrounds us. There is always somebody worse off than ourselves; but we rarely do anything about it. Maybe we opt not to act because we feel that the demise of others is what keeps us happy, that it is simpler to accept things as they are than attempt change. I'm sure many people would be desperate to leave Omelas, to free themselves from the thought of the child; to essentially cleanse their minds from the shame upon which their lives are built. But who is to say that the memory of the child will not linger? Would leaving wipe the mind clean indefinitely or would the unpleasantness reoccur? We can't say. Fear governs. Striking out alone is far more dangerous than living with the occasional thought of the child (or so we tell ourselves). Fear tells people that walking away isn't worth it, fear binds people to society - and if we are bound, how is it ever going to be possible to completely walk away?

In the end, I think my subconsciousness would take over. While my consciousness would be fighting to scream out, to run from Omelas and from the unethical principles on which it is built, it is much more realistic to admit that I just wouldn't have the courage. Yes, it is sad that the child must suffer. Yes, I think it unfair to base the happiness of many on the misery of one; especially one so innocent and undeserving. It seems selfish and unsettling that so many people just accept the child as part of life, but I can see why they do. Society has an overpowering influence in the individual's decisions, and it can be hard to choose a seperate path. To venture out into the unknown, alone, unsure of whether the action of walking away is actually making a difference, rather than just putting my singular mind at ease, is hard. It is impossible for me to comprehend abandoning my family, my friends, everything I have ever known, for a life that has no certain outcome. A life that may not have an outcome at all. And while the existence of the child in Omelas, the existence of the thousands of suffering children in the world, plagues my heart and fills me with guilt, I cannot say with certainty that I would walk away from Omelas. I don't know that I possess the courage.