The Bourgeois Pig

Author's Note: This is a creative non-fiction piece I have been working on for about four years (not all the time, mind you, but whenever the urge to work on it struck). As of today I have submitted it to DePaul's "Threshold" literary and fine arts journal. I'll let you know how that goes!

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"Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion."

- Tool, "Schism"

This story, takes place in a café. Not some Starbucks or Dunkin' Donuts mind you; but a proper coffee shop, a coffee person's coffee shop: the ironically (or aptly, depending on your temperament) named Bourgeois Pig of Halsted street. Originally I was to meet a friend whom I haven't seen in quite some time, but unfortunately she hadn't responded to my message to finalize our meeting and I took that to mean she probably wouldn't appear. Undaunted, I went to the café anyway, hoping she would show up to spite her silence and even if she didn't (I rationalized) I could always use some good coffee, and some time to just sit. Just to be.

The place itself is a marvel: chalkboard menu, books scattered around, wooden tables and chairs of no common origin. The upstairs is furnished with old 19th century France style couches and art. In the air the scent of java mingled with the ideas of the patrons. French roast intersecting with literature.

After I had been served my coffee (Mocha with whipped cream) I took my seat in the middle of the downstairs sitting area. It was relatively crowded (as it usually is), but still managed to find a table all for myself. I removed my hat, settled into my chair, and pulled out a crossword and pen from my coat pocket. I marveled at my own air of cosmopolitanism with my coffee, black pea coat and crossword. If only I was allowed to smoke, the aesthetic would be complete.

I entered my own little universe, content. Certainly, this café was built especially for me. As I began my puzzle any hope of meeting my friend had vanished along with my sense of context and it had been replaced with my own sense of warm, cozy solitariness. Suddenly it was as if everyone had dissolved, becoming lines and boxes; creating a matrix of down and across; itself composed of words and letters, all held together by a series of disjointed and enigmatic clues.

After awhile this couple sat down next to me. They were silent and I didn't take much notice of them at first until the man started their conversation by informing the woman that someone had hit is car. I was immediately interested, and I looked up briefly. They were positioned in such a way so that it was as if I were viewing a play. I was in the audience and they were on stage facing each other. Quickly, I looked back down at my puzzle. I couldn't watch them directly (to do so would be socially unacceptable), so I would have to watch with my ears, perhaps only with an occasional glance.

The woman asked him whether or not they had exchanged insurance. He replied that they had exchanged email and phone, but not insurance to which the woman said, in a huff: "they're not going to contact you, you know and even if you contacted them, they’ll just ignore you anyway". In my head I appended "idiot" to the end of the sentence for her.

The man responded with silence

More silence, until it was broken again by the man with a flood of quiet, defeated apologies. What he was apologizing for I do not know, but by the dynamic of the conversation I don't believe it was anything serious. It struck me as one of those silly, mundane "fights" that aren't of any substance; akin to the mindless quarrels of not putting down the toilet seat or something equally as asinine. But there was something different about this one: an intense desperation on the part of the man.

"I can only say 'I'm sorry' so many times" I heard him say. The woman said nothing in response.

I could feel the franticness of his apologies, with his body leaning in towards the woman, arms extended, trying to reach out to her, trying to make her understand. His mouth flapping, hysterical and useless, expressing his impotent wantonness. I feel no shame nor harbor any reservations when I say that never in my life have I seen anything as pathetic as what I bore witness then.

The woman sat unimpressed. Out of my periphery, I could see the coldness in her eyes as she just stared at the man, half reveling in and half disgusted with what she saw.

It was then when I decided that this man was a coward. Despite all his efforts, all his emphatic, desperate insistence of mea culpa, nowhere could I find a dignified, respectable man. All I saw was a sad, terrified mouse being toyed with by some cat. What's more is that I don't believe that he was truly sorry at all. Certainly he was remorseful, he regretted the act, but not for the act itself. In my estimation the only reason he was apologizing at all was because she found out. Again, I'll never know the exact details of the situation, let alone his guilt, but whether or not he was truly at fault is irrelevant, he is a coward because he is not honest.

But that woman! I cannot describe the strange combination of awe, terror, admiration, and disgust I felt in her presence. The cat toying with her mouse. The mastery she had over him! I could not help but take part in feeling some sort of sadistic glee

By this time their food had arrived and the direction of their conversation moved into a more pedestrian mode, the details of which I cannot recall, due to its vile insipidness (I believe it had something to do with the weather of all things), which I actually found rather surprising for it was not the flavor of discourse I have come to expect given my setting. For at the same time there were two blokes two tables over involved in a rather spirited discussion alternating between fuzzy math, probability theory and literature. This is the tenor of conversation I've come to expect from the Pig and one of the reasons why it will always have a special place in my heart.

At this point I sort of tuned out, partly due to their banality, but mostly because I couldn't for the life of me think of a six letter word for "dialect of a particular group" (it was "patois" in case you're wondering). But my ears did perk for a telling moment in their dialogue.

"I don't like thanksgiving." The woman said abruptly. My caffeine and crossword induced trance was instantly broken. "What a remarkable thing to say!" I thought to myself, smiling a little. The boldness! But, it was the way in which she said it that was most interesting to me. It was as if she had wound the words around themselves and had used it as a stick to prod at the man. “What do you think of it?” she asked of the man and instead of answering the question, he deflected, responding with “how’s your sandwich”.

I could almost hear the man’s testicles retracting into his pelvis as I let out a disappointed groan into my coffee. If "I don't like Thanksgiving" was a poking stick then the follow-up "what do you think of it" was a lead pipe. Clearly she was trying to bait him into a confrontation. Clearly, she had something she needed to say and the man knew exactly what it was.

"Are these people blind!" I thought to myself, frustrated. Couldn't they see that this passive-aggressiveness will get them nowhere? Couldn't they see the brick wall between them? I remember how the man stretched his arms, prostrating before her. I remember how he attempted to touch her, but now all I can imagine is him deliriously running his hands over a wall that in his ignorance and stupidity, forgot why it had been erected. Feeling every crack, cutting his palms on every barb. The complete and utter self-imposed isolation between two people, between us all.

I gave up on the couple. They deserved each other.

The woman got up to use the washroom just as I had finished my puzzle and I was preparing to leave whereupon I caught my first glance at the man. He leaned back in his chair, let out a sigh and washed his face in his hands. After my personal catharsis of sadistic pleasure in the couple's situation, pity descended upon me and I felt the need to expiate. I really wanted to say something to him, but I didn’t for fear of being thought of as a creepy eavesdropper.

Even after all that, all that analysis and armchair psychoanalyzing, after all the impotent judgment I had rendered; I didn't engage him at all. I merely let out a groan as I rose from my chair, affixed my hat and walked out of the shop.

If I would have said something to him it would have been this: “I couldn’t help but notice the lack of laughter between you two”. To this day I truly don't know why I thought of that particular phrase. I suppose it just seemed poignant at the time.

Perhaps I should have said something to him, but then again, I am a coward too.

The Perverse Nature of Christianity

This is not a paper I've written per se, but it is an argument that came up in class today. It was in a class called "Love, Hatred, & Resentment" (which the Sadism and Masochism paper I've posted was for) and we were reading Gilles Deleuze's account of pain and suffering in his essay Coldness and Cruelty. In it, Deleuze states that (while citing Nietzsche) if pain and suffering is to have any meaning, it must be because someone finds enjoyment in it. From this, Deleuze figures that there are only three possibilities, the first two being perversions:

Pain is enjoyable for the person who inflicts it (Sadism)
Pain is enjoyable for the person who suffers it (Masochism)
But the third one is the most interesting:
 
     3.  "Pain is pleasing to the gods who contemplate and watch over man" (the so called "normal" one)

Deleuze goes further to say about the third option: "It should be clear that the normal answer is the most fantastic, psychotic of the the three." Clearly, Deleuze is referencing modern Christianity in the third answer. He provides no additional support, nor does he elaborate further, but it is from here where I started my own line of thought.

Nietzsche talks about the moral psychology of Christianity A LOT, and most of the following has in all probably already been said or alluded to by Nietzsche and others, however I want to reiterate in my own words here.

What's most striking about Christianity is how incredibly violent it is. I was raised Catholic and went (read: was dragged) to church fairly regularly and I do remember noticing from an early age the particular iconography that is on display in a Catholic cathedral: depictions of thorns and blood and pain are literally everywhere you look. What is on display in almost every Catholic church is the stations of the cross (bloody in themselves), which always put me at a slight unease.

Now it is true that Catholicism is not the only brand of Christianity. Protestant churches by comparison are much more modest in their aesthetic. The official reason for this was that it was a protest against what it considered to be the lavish excesses and corruptions of the Catholic church. But all of these changes: (modest aesthetics, a more liberal interpretation [for most sects] of the Bible) only obfuscate the main point: that Christianity, no matter how you envision it, is a religion that is founded on the brutal torture and murder of a human being.

Of course many Christians would claim (rather indignantly I would imagine) that this particular understanding is extreme, pessimistic, and misleading (among other things); however I don't see any way around it. Christianity has made use of many different symbols during its life (the lamb, the Ichthys) but the one it seems to prefer is the cross. How else is one supposed to describe this symbol? Literally, it is the depiction of a murdered man (who had been tortured) nailed to a piece of wood.

But what is especially perverse is that not only the torture and murder of a man is the cornerstone of a world-wide faith, it's that the faithful must continually, retroactively demand it. If that man hadn't been tortured and murdered, none of them would be able to get to heaven. It is no wonder why guilt is so pervasive (even necessary) in Christianity. Could you sleep well knowing that a man had to be tortured and murdered so you could sleep well?

The madness goes even further: Jesus let this happen. He willingly let himself be tortured and murdered. I truly don't know what is more psychotic: that billions of people must continually be grateful that, and have demanded that, a man be tortured and murdered for their own gain, or that the man in question
acquiesced!

And what does this say about the Christian god? Even if one realized the madness and pleaded that the crime on Golgotha should never have happened, they too are left in a debt they never agreed to, unfairly bound to a supposed "salvation" they never asked for. I can only imagine the god of Abraham to be of the cruelest disposition in light of this, a despot who takes nothing but pleasure in our guilt, pain, and suffering.

Game Theory and Mathematics in Chess

Authors note: This was written a few years ago for a game design class. This was also written when I was on a game theory kick. Its possibly one of the most analytic things I've written.

            Checkmate: It’s one of the most dreaded words in the western lexicon. Its mere utterance has the ability to strike fear into the heart of even the most battle-tested opponent. The ubiquity of chess cannot be overstated, as it is possibly the most widely recognized game in the western world; but what is really happening inside the minds of the players and on the chessboard itself? Here we will take a deeper look into the game and analyze it using a branch of behavioral science known as game theory (that is, the way in which the players make decisions and interact with each other during play), and then examine how those decisions manifest themselves on the chessboard from a mathematical perspective using payoff matrices and decision trees.

            Everyday we make decisions and every time we undergo the process of making them, we play a game. The original necessity that brought about the development of game theory, according to its creators John Von Neumann and Oskar Morgenstern, was “…the attempt to find an exact description of the endeavor of the individual to obtain a maximum utility, or, in the case of the entrepreneur, a maximum of profit.”[1] Originally, game theory was a method of understanding the way in which individuals interact given their competing self interests in economic terms. Chess, although no explicitly economic entity, also fits the description of what may be subjected to game theory analysis; instead of “maximum of profit” read “maximum chances of winning”, seeing as how “profit” in an economic game is the equivalent of “winning” in a board game.

            The payoff matrix is the most common way to model decisions in games. Chess is a two-person, non-cooperative, zero-sum game. Non-cooperative in that “…the players are unable to make contractual agreements with one another.” [2] and zero-sum in that the game “represents a closed system: everything someone wins must be lost by someone else.”[3] Because chess is so complicated we will select a simpler two-person non-cooperative game to illustrate with a matrix, and then do the same for chess. The following is the payoff matrix for rock-paper-scissors (the left column being what the player chooses):[4]

Player 1	Scissors	Rock	Paper
Scissors	0	-1	1
Rock	1	0	-1
Paper	-1	1	0

In this example, 0’s represent ties, 1’s represent wins, and -1’s represent losses. Conversely, this is the table for the second player:[5]

Player 2	Scissors	Rock	Paper
Scissors	0	1	-1
Rock	-1	0	1
Paper	1	-1	0

Notice how if both players’ payoff matrices were arithmetically added, the sum would be zero ([Player 1] + [Player 2] = 0), hence the mathematical model for zero-sum games.

            The question arises: what is the payoff matrix for chess look like? The following is the payoff matrix for chess (assume board is reset into starting position and ellipses indicate intermediate moves):

	a3	a4	b3	b4	…	Na3	Nc3	Nf3	Nh3
a3	0	0	0	0	…	0	0	0	0
a4	0	0	0	0	…	0	0	0	0
b3	0	0	0	0	…	0	0	0	0
b4	0	0	0	0	…	0	0	0	0
…	…	…	…	…	…	…	…	…	…
Na3	0	0	0	0	…	0	0	0	0
Nc3	0	0	0	0	...	0	0	0	0
Nf3	0	0	0	0	…	0	0	0	0
Nh3	0	0	0	0	…	0	0	0	0

It becomes obvious that the matrix for chess is vastly more complicated than for rock-paper-scissors, but also that every combination of moves results in a 0. Unlike rock-paper-scissors, chess is a multi-stage game and neither combination of moves by either player on the first turn would end the game, thus resulting in a temporary tie until the next turn. Chess is still considered a zero-sum game regardless of the limitations of the payoff matrix because the end of the game always results in a player winning, a player losing, or a stalemate. So, the implied payoff matrix over the course of the entire game looks like this (and of course vice versa for the other player):

	Player 1 Strategy A	Player 1 Strategy B	Player 1 Strategy C
Player 2 Strategy A	0 (Stalemate)	-1	1
Player 2 Strategy B	1	0	-1
Player 2 Strategy C	-1	1	0

           

It becomes clear that a chess player would find using a payoff matrix rather impractical, seeing as how the matrix tells the player nothing about what their next move should be (granted as more pieces are captured the matrix becomes simpler and simpler, but even so the values would remain 0’s unless one particular set of moves would result in a checkmate for either player). The preferred way to model complex decisions by those actually playing chess are decision trees, which are more suited to the multi-stage/multi-decision nature of chess.  As was done with the payoff matrices, a simple game will be chosen to explain the process then the decision tree will be applied to chess.

            Consider this tree that is created by a plaintiff carrying out a legal dispute with a defendant:[6]

As one can see, multi-stage games are much more complex than a single decision game. The tree allows the players to see all possible outcomes before they even start the game, unlike payoff matrices which only allow the player to see one move into the future. Game theory comes into play when the players try to influence the tree to achieve their own objectives. For example the ideal objective for the defendant would be for the plaintiff to drop the case, if the defendant is unable to get the plaintiff to drop then defendant tries to settle and if that fails proceeds to go to court. Conversely the defendant may wish to do the opposite and go directly to court, if they believe that variable y is insufficient or that their legal counsel is superior to the plaintiffs’.

            If one were to create a complete decision tree for a game of chess, it would take them an extraordinary amount of time to complete, seeing as how there are 400 possible moves in the first turn alone. So instead here is the implied tree:

It’s important to point out here that chess players rarely think on such a large, general scale as implied by the figure above, instead when considering their next move they think of only the moves relevant to their strategy. For example, a seasoned player would never even consider moving a pawn c5:c6 if there are only five other pieces on the board (that is, during endgame stage), doing so would result in essentially a wasted move and would give the opponent offensive control of the board unless the player as a reason for doing so (block check, set a trap, or others). So rather than keeping a complete tree in their head (which is impossible), or the implied tree (which is essentially useless), they focus on specific sections of the complete tree that are relevant to the conditions on the board and to their overall or current strategy.

            Any casual observer of chess can easily see that it is an incredibly deep game, but what often goes unappreciated is the degree of mental acuity that chess demands of the players. However, this intensity is possibly what gives chess its mystique and appeal. To the unaware onlooker it is just two people quietly moving pieces around a board, but for the players themselves it is a struggle; planning traps for the opponent ten moves in advance, keeping large sections of a massively elaborate decision tree in mind at all times, and patiently waiting till the moment that they make their final move and are able to say loudly and confidently: “Checkmate”.

Works Cited

Burger, Ewald. Introduction to the Theory of Games. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, INC, 1963.

                                   

Friedman, James W. Game Theory With Applications to Economics. Oxford, NY: Oxford University Press, 1986.

                                   

Gintis, Herbert. Game Theory Evolving. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000.

                                   

Owen, Guillermo. Game Theory. Philadelphia, PA: W.B. Saunders Co., 1968.

                                   

Von Neumann, John, and Oskar Morgenstern. Theory of Games and Economic Behavior. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1947

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[1] Neumann 1

[2] Friedman 2

[3] Owen 12

[4] Burger 4

[5] Burger 4

[6] Gintis 101

The Marquis de Sade as a Freudian Sadist

Author's note: This was written a week or so ago for a class called "Love, Hatred, & Resentment" with the prompt: "Is [the Marquis de Sade's] Philosophy in the Boudoir a sadistic text as [Sigmund] Freud understands sadism in [his] Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality? Why or why not?" I was arguing for the affirmative.

The Marquis de Sade is a historical character to which many descriptors could be applied: morally corrupt, depraved, perverted...sadist? It would then seem to follow that “sadist” does indeed belong on that list, seeing as how it is his namesake. However, would that be fair? Would that be correct to say?  In his “Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality” Seminal psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud outlines several aspects of human sexuality, including those of sadism and masochism. Having Freud’s three essays and de Sade’s “Philosophy in the Boudoir” it is safe to conclude that yes, the Marquis de Sade is indeed a Freudian Sadist. We will go about showing this by first looking at what Freud explicitly defines as “sadism” (what exactly sadism is), then taking into account the role of pity and its influence on the development of sexuality (how individuals become sadists) and finally turning our attention to both pain and its relation pleasure (why individuals would want to pursue a sadistic lifestyle). In each of the sections references will be made to de Sade’s “Philosophy in the Boudoir” to appropriately demonstrate how the Marquis’ philosophy fits Freud’s assessment of sadism.

Freud has a rudimentary definition on what he considers to be sadism:

“In ordinary speech connotation of sadism oscillates between, on the one hand, cases merely characterized by an active or violent attitude to the sexual object, and, on the other hand, cases in which satisfaction is entirely conditional on the humiliation and maltreatment of the object.” (Freud 24, emphasis added).

The latter half of that definition, in which violence is entirely conditional is what Freud argued constituted a “perversion”. However, we are concerned only with the phenomena of sadism itself, the “humiliation of maltreatment of the object” rather than the psychology of perversions, so we will eschew that aspect of Freud’s definition. It is without a doubt that the Marquis participates in this behavior.

“EUGÉNIE: Gently, gently, I can’t stand it (she yells , tears roll down her cheeks.) Help me, my dear friend!...(she struggles.) No, I don’t want it to enter me!...If you persist, I’ll scream bloody murder!...

CHEVALIER. Scream as much as you like, you little slut! I tell you, it has to enter even if you kick the bucket a thousand times.

EUGÉNIE: How barbaric!

DOLMANCÉ Ah! Fuck! Is a man tactful when he gets a hard-on?

CHEVALIER. Hey! My dick’s inside!...It’s inside, damn it!...Fuck! To hell with her virginity!...Watch her blood flow!
EUGÉNIE: Go on, tiger!...Go on! Tear me to shreds now if you like! I don’t give a damn!...” (de Sade 101).

Later on in the scene, one of the players introduces a whip:

“DOLMANCÉ: One moment, beautiful boy, on moment!...She has to present me with her ass while you fuck her!...Yes, that’s it! Come closer, Madam de Saint-Ange. I promised fuck your butt, and I’ll keep my word!...But lie there in such a way that I can fuck Eugénie and leave enough space to whip her! Meanwhile, the Chevalier should whip me! (They all get into their positions)

EUGÉNIE: Ah! Fuck! He’s tearing me apart!...Be gentle, you big clod!...Ah, the bugger! He’s shoving it in!...He’s in!...He’s hit rock bottom!...I’m dying!...Oh, Dolmancé, how hard you whip!...The flames are being kindled on both sides! You’re setting my ass cheeks on fire!” (Sade 102)

Now that it is quite apparent that the Marquis does indeed participate in Freud’s basic definition of sadism (that is the humiliation and maltreatment of the object), next we must address what is essentially the “how” of sadism: how does one become a sadist and does the Marquis fit in with Freud’s characterization of sadism’s development in human sexuality? And what does pity have to do with sadism anyway? To begin answering these questions Freud starts at infancy. Freud describes human infantile sexual development as “diphasic”; such that the first phase occurs from age two to five, proceeding into a latency period lasting from five to puberty, and finishing with the second phase from puberty on. (Freud 66). The latency period is particularly important because this is when what Freud calls the “forces of resistance” are built up to impede the sexual instinct: “It is during this period of total or only partial latency that are built up the mental forces which are later to impede the course of the sexual instinct and , like dames, restrict its flow -- disgust, feelings of shame and the claims of aesthetic and moral ideals.” (Freud 43). Sexual phenomenon like sadism, along with others such as exhibitionism and scopophilia, as well as all the other fetishes of sexual object-choice begin, for Freud, at the first phase of infantile sexuality and are sublimated (redirected in to substitutive satisfactions) in response to the forces that are built up during latency. This is all well and good, but how does it relate to sadism and where does the Marquis fit in?

The sexual instinct to cruelty, that Freud believes we all have (Freud 58), like everything else for Freud, begins at childhood; and this instinct to cruelty eventually encounters a mental force of resistance, in this case: pity. “Cruelty in general comes easily to the childish nature, since the obstacle that brings the instinct for mastery to a halt at another person’s pain -- namely a capacity for pity--is developed relatively late.” (Freud 59). Sadism (as well as masochism) occurs when that mental dam of pity either is overridden, malformed, or absent entirely. It is clear from Philosophy in the Boudoir that the Marquis has a notable lack of pity. This is most clear when he is describing his beliefs on charity:

“EUGÉNIE: ...But, Dolmancé, couldn’t charity and benevolence constitute happiness in a few sensitive souls?

DOLMANCÉ: Eugenie, may we be spared the virtues that produce only ingratitude! And don’t be fooled, my charming friend. Benevolence is more a vice of pride than a true virtue of the soul...I personally envisage it only as the greatest of all swindles. It accustoms the pauper to assistance, which saps his energy. He no longer works if he expects your charity.” (Sade 29).

Later, Dolmancé takes it even further:

“DOLMANCÉ: ...What do I care about other people’s sufferings? Don’t I have enough misery of my own without burdening myself with the misery of others? May the hearth fir of that sensitivity never illuminate anything but our own pleasures! Let’s be sensitive to whatever delights them, and let’s be absolutely inflexible about the rest. This attitude of the soul results in a sort of cruelty that is sometimes not without its charm. One cannot always do evil. So if we can’t always create this pleasure, we can nevertheless replace this sensation with the caustic little malice that we never do good.

This taking pleasure in the presence of anothers’ suffering is a notable characteristic in colloquial sadism, and the demonstrable lack of pity is characteristic of Freud’s assessment of sadism.

Finally there comes what is, essentially, the “why” of sadism. What exactly do sadists (and masochists for that matter) get out of the practice? What we have to examine here is pain (which is clearly a component of sadomasochism) and its relationship to pleasure as well as the extent of which pain becomes, or even is pleasure. Freud discusses certain affective processes (i.e. emotions) that provide “further sources of excitation in children” (Freud 69). He observes that “The sexually exciting effect of many emotions which are in themselves unpleasurable, such as feelings of apprehension, fright or horror, persists in a great number of people throughout their adult life.” (Freud 69). Taking this, Freud goes even further: “If we assume that a similar erotogenic effect attaches even to intensely  especially when the pain is toned down or kept at a distance by some accompanying condition, we should here have painful feelings,one of the main roots of the masochistic-sadistic instinct...” (Freud 70, emphasis added). When Freud speaks of these sensations being “toned down or kept at a distance” he means certain limitations that protect us from actual danger; that is the employment of “safe words” in the bedroom that set clear limits as the what the participants consent to.

The Marquis has plenty to say about pain and its transformation into pleasure throughout the dialogue in the boudoir.

“MADAME DE SAINT-ANGE: Whether she’s penetrated in front or in back, of a woman is still unaccustomed to such treatment, then she’ll always feel pain. It has pleased nature to help us achieve happiness only through pain. But once nature is vanquished, nothing can replace the pleasure felt by the woman; and the pleasure enjoyed during penetration of her ass is incontestably preferable to all the delights that can be gained by the penetration in front.” (Sade 17).

Dolmancé mentions this transformation again, later when he is discussing the particulars of anal sex:

“DOLMANCÉ:...But ignoring her pains that soon change to pleasures, the fucker must push his dick, gradually and energetically, until he achieves his goal--until, that is, his pubic hair precisely rubs the circumference of the anus he’s fucking. He must then follow his route swiftly; all the thorns have been gathered, only the roses remain.” (Sade 45).

As we see Freud develop his theory on sadism and masochism we see the Marquis at every turn. At the outset, when Freud is describing the phenomenon at a basic level the Marquis is there; whipping and humiliating his peers. Later, when Freud is describing how sadism and masochism develops in human sexuality, the Marquis is there with his denouncement of charity and his overcoming or absence of pity. Finally, when Freud is describing why its practitioners engage in sadism and masochism, the Marquis is there; elucidating as to how pain can be pleasurable and indeed how it can be pleasure. We can conclude, with much certainty that the Marquis de Sade does indeed live up to his namesake and is from a Freudian perspective, a sadist.

Works Cited

Freud, Sigmund, and James Strachey. Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality. New York: Basic, 2007. Print.

Sade, Marquis De. Philosophy of the Boudoir. London: Penguin, 2007. Print.

The Religious Transformation of Secular Ethics

Authors Note: This was written for a comparative religious ethics class a few years ago. To be honest, I've completely forgotten what the original prompt was, the best I can do is that it was arguing that all ethics are religious in some way or another

For quite some time now we have thought of the secular and of the religious as being separate, as antonyms. However, Fascing and Dechant argue that even though modern moralities appear to be secular, they are heavily influenced by the religious moral stories that came before them leading them to conclude that “In this sense there appears to be a religious dimension to every morality, no matter how secular it appears”.[1] This raises the question of in what manner seemingly secular moralities can be said to have a religious dimension. The instances of religious influence on secular morality can be seen in two ways: in their underlying motivation and in their mechanical practice.

            The intent of secular ethics was to create systems devoid of any religious influence. Indeed, Kant’s goal with his categorical imperative was to do just that, create a system based entirely on pure reason. A utilitarian system is essentially of the same nature, devoid of God and religion it’s goal is namely one of a secular humanism placing the good in terms of human happiness. How could it be that these systems whose mechanics contain no God, no tenets of otherworldliness whatsoever be based on some religious perspective?  I argue that it is not in the construction of these systems where we find the influence of religion; instead it is in the assumed necessity under which they are constructed.

            French existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre has chided secular ethics in his work Existentialism is a Humanism for attempting to take God out of the equation and leave everything else the same, stating that “The existentialist, on the contrary, thinks it very distressing that God does not exist, because all possibility of finding values in a heaven of ideas disappears along with Him…”[2] The word “distressing” is the most important word in the sentence. Granted, we are not all atheistic existentialists, however one would be hard pressed to find an individual who has not experienced the feeling that Sartre alludes to at some point in their lives. It is because of that feeling of distress that creates the aforementioned “assumed necessity” of all morality, including secular ethics. It needs to be said that an assumed necessity is not in itself, religious. However it will be shown later that the assumed necessity is the impetus for the religious transformation of our relationships to certain values.

            Where does this assumption of necessity stem from? Why does this phenomenon of abandonment, as Sartre would call it, terrify us so? The answer is rooted in the assumption made by most world religions and some secular theorists that mankind is essentially bad (evil, impure, imperfect, pathetic) and must conform to some external reality (Christians must make their will conform to God’s divine will, Hindus conform their atman to the Brahman, Taoists conform their Chi to the Tao, and so on). Atheist and secular political theorist Thomas Hobbes has argued that “in the nature of man we find three principal causes of quarrel. First, competition; secondly, diffidence; thirdly, glory.”[3] Note the emotion elicited in the words “quarrel”, “competition”, “diffidence”, and “glory”. The assumption made by these systems is that without them mankind would dissolve to chaos. As Hobbes said, “…men have no pleasure (but on the contrary a great deal of grief) in keeping company where there is no power able to overawe them all”.[4]

            It is here were we connect secular morality to religiosity. Fascing and Dechant state that “…the word ‘religion’ comes from the Latin religare, which means ‘to tie or bind’. It expresses our sense of being ‘tied and bound’ by relations of obligation to whatever powers we believe govern our destiny and secure our way of life…”.[5] It is at this point that we begin the religious transformation of values that was referred to earlier. We allow ourselves to be “tied and bound” by a moral system, to give up a degree of freedom to an “overawing” institution (community, church, or government) because to not would be to risk civilization collapsing in war, chaos and amoralism because of our assumed Hobbesian nature. The question of whether or not civilization would indeed collapse without some overawing moral system/institution matters not, what does matter is what we believe is going to happen.

            The religious nature of seemingly secular moral systems can also be observed through the normalizing function of their corresponding institutions. Religions frequently employ rituals that Fascing and Dechant describe as “…a way of life that assures that these powers will be on their side.”[6] This is no different than any secular institution with a moral dimension. Take the judiciary for example. Upon reflection it becomes quite clear that the process of a criminal trial resembles very much a religious ritual: the participants dress in their Sunday best, the judge wears a ceremonial robe and wields a symbolic gavel, and it follows a strict procedure. Even the language we use in relation to criminal trials is religious in nature: people rejoicing at the fact that the law is “on our side” – an almost verbatim reference to Fascing and Dechant’s description of the purpose of religious ritual. Of course the example breaks down when one takes into account the admitted fallibility of the courts (as evinced by the appeals system) whereas religious rituals are thought of as absolute and infallible.

            Another example of a kind of religion thinly disguised as secular ritual (keeping with the theme of Hobbes and deference to an awesome leviathan) is the presidential inauguration. The president is often seen (rightly or wrongly) as the moral compass of the nation. People come from all over the country to witness such an event, people sing songs, recite poems, and play their instruments for the incoming president and when the swearing in finally occurs it is administered by the chief justice in his ceremonial robe where they lead the president in the reciting the symbolic oath of office. At some point in the ceremony the pledge of allegiance is taken by all in attendance, a pledge that essentially functions as a kind of national prayer.  

            We have seen how secular moralities demonstrate their religiosity through the franticness of their construction. We find mankind more than willing to give itself up to an external force, more than willing to bind itself if it would act as shelter against our own terrified imaginings of what life would be life if we did not do so. Both secular and religious moralities, it seems, share a profound distrust in the individuals’ ability to decide morality for itself.  We have also seen how our frantic desperation is made clear when our secular moralities manifest themselves in concrete, observable forms whether it is the pomp and circumstance of the criminal trial or what can only be described as the group transference of the presidential inauguration. Religion could be described as a psychology, a mindset for making sense of the world around us and as much as we try to deny it, it continues to influence our modern moralities no matter how secular they may appear.

Works Cited

Fascing, Darrell J., and Dell Dechant. Comparative Religious Ethics: A Narrative Approach. 1st ed. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2001. Print.

Hobbes, Thomas. Leviathan. Revised Student Edition. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1996. Print.

Sartre, Jean-Paul. Existentialism and Human Emotions. 1. New York, NY: Kensington Publishing Corp., 1985. Print.

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[1] Fascing and Dechant 14

[2] Sartre 22

[3] Hobbes

[4] Hobbes

[5] Fascing and Dechant 11

[6] Fascing and Dechant 12