Archive for August 2012
Just What is Daredevil Thinking?
For the past month or so I've been advocating a new saying: "daredevil thinking". I've been hash-tagging it on Twitter, Facebook, and Google+, and now I've made a blog devoted to it. But what exactly is daredevil thinking? The answer is simple; daredevil thinking is...
...challenging what has been defined.
...seeking out truth; whether it be relative or absolute.
...loving when it is forbidden.
...risking without reward.*
...holding onto our human dignity.
...living with purpose.
These are just a handful of the definitions of daredevil thinking.
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| Plato's Allegory of the Cave |
To further explain DDT, I will use Plato's famous "Cave" allegory. This was the first image I saw when I starting taking my government class back in high school. Our teacher, Mr. Cooper, had this displayed on the projector screen in a dim classroom. He asked us to write what we thought of the image in a journal entry that would become a regular routine upon entering his class over the course of the semester.
Plato's allegory of the Cave may appear confusing, so I'll do my best to explain what it means and how it relates to DDT. The first thing we see, starting from the right, is a crowd of people of all types and both genders huddled in a dark corner behind a wall. A couple of the individuals here are pointing to the shadows of the angelic statuettes positioned high on the other side of the cave. When we look to this "other side", we see a smaller group people, all standing and wearing fine clothes, and all men save for the one woman on the far left. Above them is a lamp holding a beautiful flame, responsible for casting the shadows of the angelic figurines. Finally, we see a dark entrance to the cave leading outside, where three individuals are gazing busy admiring the sun or sky (or maybe just enjoying small-talk about the weather).
To start off explaining, the group of many in the shadows represent most of the world. They are mostly lost. The faces of the individuals on this side of the cave all appear to have worried looks. They are unsure, confused, and glancing from one to another as if their neighbor might have an answer to their dilemma. Some see the shadows of the figurines being cast on the wall above them. They aren't sure what the shadows are trying to depict. They can make out the outlines of the angels, but they cannot the see the details, or understand how large or small they truly are. Finally, we see one man leaning over from the other side of the wall. Whether he's curious about the "rest of the world" or just trying to pass on a message from the other side, we'll never know; but he catches the attention of some, or look to him with reassured expressions.
On the other side of that wall we see the many groomed men standing in a circle. They appear to be men of dignity, or perhaps they all have an agenda to further their own interests. A woman, the minority, stands off to the side of the group. She is curious, but reserved. Above them is a lamp or a lantern, carrying a brilliant flame that lights up this side of the room. Because of this flame, we can see the refined details of the figurines above them, at equal height to the lamp.
From the top, the figurines represent what we consider to be holy and supreme. They are the fantastical source from which we have derived much of our morality. In essence, they represent God, or religion. The shadows of these figurines are blurred to the group in the shadows. Because a wall separating them from the societal elite, they cannot see the true beauty of these statuettes. The don't see the instruments of the choir, or the feathered wings of the angel.
The lamp, an all its brilliant light, represents human governance. It is not the same as the sun's light, being created by man, but it is enough light for the few on the other side to see and move about. It raised up to the level on which the figurines stand; and the dignitaries below it, though they may see the refinement of religion, pay little attention to it. They prefer to focus on the light given to them by their government. For it appears more logical to them. It helps them to see in the cave, where religion cannot. Note also that these dignitaries are standing tall and proud, and they are wearing finer clothes than most of the people in the dark. These men are the politicians and leaders of their society. They are the ones that call the shots and make the decisions. They define what is, and what is to be.
Now we come to the entrance to the cave and what exists beyond. We see the smallest of groups in the daylight, standing out in the open and enjoying a chat. These few are the ones that dared to venture into the darkened passage that led their fellow man into that cave in the first place. Outside, they see a light that is a thousand times brighter and more true that the flame inside. There are no walls to cast shadows outside the cave, and there different levels on which man can build idols or hang false lights. What they see, and what they are admiring, is Truth.
This Truth is The God, it is the apex of human understanding and wisdom; the pinnacle of intelligence. It is not reduced to the lifeless form of statues, or whittled down to blurred shadows. It is not overcome, let alone challenged, by the corruptible code of human government and society.
"A man can no more diminish God's glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word, 'darkness' on the walls of his cell."You can hide from Truth in a cave, but you'll be forever lost and confused by illusions and false truths. Daredevil thinking is the way out of that cave. It is the bold steps taken through the entrance of that cave, away from the "dignified" minds of society and the twisted light they call "truth".
-C.S. Lewis
That's daredevil thinking. Will you dare to think?
*Thanks for the assist there, Ethan.
Mass Effect: Special Selection
Just drafted a quick back story for a new main character in a Mass Effect series I'm working on. The series is being authored by myself and several others as a collaborative project. This short story is meant to be separate from the series, but relative.
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| Image created by Scott, from Deviant Art |
The flash of lightning lit up the drenched rain forest floor for only a brief second, and the following thunder cracked so violently that the canopies of the trees seemed to cower beneath the darkened sky. During a downpour like this, especially when hurricane Evelyn was just off the coast of Rio de Janeiro by no more than ten or twelve miles, all animals and any rural inhabitants in the area would have retreated to shelter. But among the cautionary locals, one man seemed to be out of his mind, running through the rain forest in modified, light Alliance armor. A helmet shielded his face from the heavy rain drops, and the sleek blade sheathed on his backed glinted under the rapid flashes of lightning. A spray of mud collided with his chest plate when his boots slammed into the ground, slightly covering a white and red N7 logo.
Most of the hills and cliffs in the State of Rio blocked the violet winds of the hurricane thrashing into the populated areas, but the soldier still had to watch his footing when standing next to dangerous drops on the sides of tower rock faces, or leaping through tree branches. One strong enough gush was all that was needed to send him flying. But the weather wasn't his only foe out in the wilderness. His eyes focused extensively on every shadow, every nook, and every possible hiding place. With each step forward, he also looked over his shoulder, for at this particular moment of his life, he wasn't just the hunter - he was also the hunted.
Several minutes of peace below the raging storm passed as he traversed the thick Brazilian rain forest. Finally, he came to a rare, circular opening about one hundred meters in diameter. The terrain was relatively flat and the weeds were waste high. This was the spot; there was no mistaking it.
The man reached around and unsheathed the katana over his shoulder. Just as he heard the flicker of his opponent's cloak, he spun around and his blade connected with her's. In many ways, their armor was similar, all the way down to the N7 logos; but where he had a haidate around his thighs, she had none.
"So it begins," he said.
Without a single utterance from her own lips, his opponent kicked off of his own leg and back flipped through the air, landing gracefully in the weeds. He glimpsed her head disappearing below the tall blades.
Despite being very much alike in their agility, speed, and graceful skills with a blade, each of them had their unique abilities. He was a biotic, an Alliance vanguard by classification; and she was an assassin, as quiet and stealthy as a cat stalking its prey. When she cloaked herself, the man would have to rely on the elements to keep tabs on her location. Starting with the rain.
While it was hard to see clearly in this kind of overcast, he was able to make out the subtle and unnatural dispersing of falling rain drops. Drops pinged and splattered against an object that wasn't supposed to be there, and he knew she was rapidly approaching on his left flank. The man reared in that direction and took advantage of the distance still between the two of them. He raised his free hand and opened his palm. In an instant, half of his biotic shield channeled down his arm and focused into a ball in the palm of his hand, stabilized by the phase disrupter technology.
As a violet beam of brilliant energy ripped through the atmosphere, he was sure he would his target. But to his surprise, he caught the flicker of his opponent's cloak dance through the rain and dodge the blast in the nick of time. "Well, son of a bitch..."
"Nice try, Harrison!" he heard her taunt. As if to rub it in, she deactivated her cloak and began sprinting toward him.
The man named Harrison brought his katana up for a high guard as she closed in on his position, but feigned a defensive swing when she lunged toward him. Instead of blocking her own sword, Harrison kicked into an aerial flip and used his biotics to phased through the air. After blinking back into view from trickles of black and violet dark energy, he oriented his body and leaned forward. In another flash of brilliant light, Harrison put everything he had into what was known as a biotic charge; using dark energy to accelerate his body at just under one mach.
This time, there was no dodging. Blades collided with flying spark and his opponent fought against being flattened into the terrain as her dug-in heels were pushed back through the mud. Harrison's charge managed to push her nearly ten yards; and now that they were in close, the swordplay began. When she swung high, Harrison blinked upward and came back down with an eagle strike, only for her to roll left or right and rise up again with a tornado-like lash, colliding with the broadside of his katana. Every now and then, he would attempt to plant a strike on her with his phase disrupters, but she would simply cloak and de-cloak behind him in a similar effort to use her infamous "shadow strike" ability, a trait found only among the elite assassins of the galaxy. When she tried this, he would have to react quickly and phase out again.
Finally, the two began getting tired, and they both knew that the only way to end this fight would be put everything they had left into their most powerful attack. At the same time, in perfect sync, Harrison and his opponent steppe forward and twirled through the air in an acrobatic dance, flipping their bodies upward and down, landing on the opposite foot they started on, all the while lashed their katanas in a deadly swipe that would cut the rain drops into two's. From his katana, a violent uproar of biotic energy flashed forward in sequential bursts. From her's, a similar effect of heart-stopping electrical pulses.
The two forces passed through each other; and, though the speed of each shock wave was unaffected, their mixing caused a dazzling display of lights that rivaled the lightning of the storm above them. Neither Harrison nor his opponent were able to dodge each others' attack and took the full brunt of the shock waves. Harrison felt his body spring into uncontrollable convulsions, like a fish out of water. Every nerve in his body felt as though it was on fire and he cried out in pain as he was thrown back several meters. After that... total darkness.
Harrison awoke several minutes later to the sight of an Alliance medical technician's flashlight blinding his eyes. His hand reached up and swiped the object away. "My sight's fine, doc," he said, "unless you want to blind me."
"Just making sure you don't have a concussion, Lieutenant," the medic responded.
"On your feet, Harrison!" The voice belonged to the female infiltrator he had been fighting moments ago. "You weren't hit that hard; your shield absorbed most of my slash attack."
Harrison looked over and saw her approaching him with an extended hand to help to his feet. She had her helmet removed and tucked under her other arm. Her katana was sheathed over her shoulder. Harrison took her hand and pulled himself up. When on his own two feet, he reached over and took his helmet from the medic's hands, placing it back on to protect his face from the elements. "And how'd you fair against mine, Kyle?"
Lieutenant Amanda Kyle smiled and tucked her auburn pony tail underneath her helmet. "It hurt like a bitch."
The two of them shared a laugh under the rain and turned to head back into the forest with the medic and an entourage of other Alliance personnel that had seemingly shown up out of nowhere during Harrison's blackout. The entire fight had been a training exercise, but it was far from a simple one. Rio de Janeiro was the location of the Alliance's special forces training program. Every man and woman in the navy with an "N" vocational code was trained there, at the Interplanetary Combatives Academy. In short, it was nicknamed either "N-School" or "the villa".
Lieutenant Adam Harrison had recently been granted the honor of wearing the elite N7 vocational code on his uniform and armor. Few ever make it that high, and official IC training only goes up to N6. 7's were those that distinguished themselves from the rest of the wolf pack. Adam's distinguishing moment, however, like most of the 7's in his company, wasn't something to be all that proud of; or to even want to remember.
"Let's go, people!" their instructor commanded from the front of the group. "Hurricane Evelyn's turning into my mother! And I'd like to make it back to the villa before dinner!"
Though Adam's and Amanda's training today wasn't official or on-the-books, it had to be conducted on a regular basis. They were two of six N7 marines that had been specially selected to partake in a new, elite ops program. The simple fact that they didn't know who was running the show meant that it was started by someone way up at the top of the food chain. Harrison's amps and implants were above and beyond "state-of-the-art", and his armor was obviously designed in some skunk works laboratory.
"What do you think's for chow?" Amanda asked as they traversed back through the rain forest toward the Academy compound.
"Dried chicken," he said without hesitation; adding a moment later, "Again."
"I can't wait till I'm off this planet again," she said. "I was off for one year before I get called back to join this program."
"It was optional, though. Why'd you accept?"
"Because 'Go anywhere; do anything' was a damn good sales pitch," she responded. "And I like a challenge when I see one."
"Oh?" Adam teased. "Don't worry. You're not my type." He winked and grinned at her, but he knew his visor was hiding the expression. Regardless, she heard the playful teasing in his voice.
"You're such a charming asshole."
Harrison made his way down the long corridor at the back of the N-School's administrative wing. On the right side of the hallway were offices belonging to the Academy's brass. On the left side was nothing but glass, looking out into the dark storm of a fading Hurricane Evelyn. The lights of Rio offered a comforting glow in the uncertain night; and the famous, monumental statue of Christ the Redeemer stood in the distance on Corcovado, lit up on all sides.
Why he found himself in this shadowed hallway at 0-dark-thirty in the morning, he had no clue. He had been summoned from his sleep by a call on his omni-tool from the Academy's director, General Richard Delacroy. It actually took Harrison's brain a good second to register that General Delacroy was personally requesting his presence in front of his desk. Either this was really bad and he had royally fucked up on something, or this was really good and he was about to receive a medal.
Adam stopped outside Delacroy's office and checked his service uniform one last time before confidently knocking three times on the closed door. He heard Delacroy's rough voice announce, "Come in!"
Adam waved his hand over the access panel and the door slid open. Without hesitation, he marched several paces inside and stopped directly in front of the general's desk. At the position of attention, Adam made eye contact with the general, offered a crisp salute, and said, "Sir, First Lieutenant Adam Harrison reports as ordered."
General Delacroy returned the salute from his chair behind his desk and replied, "At ease, L-T. Do you have any clue why I've called you here this late at night?"
Harrison allowed himself to relax with hands behind his back and feet spread shoulder-width apart, but kept his discipline and bearing when he replied, "No, sir."
"Lieutenant Harrison," Delacroy said, "meet Sibyl Carson; also known as the Operator."
Adam turned his head in the direction that Delacroy was gesturing in with an open hand and saw a woman sitting cross-legged in one of the general's arm chairs off to the side. He had been so tunnel visioned when he entered the man's office that he had completely missed her being there.
"Ma'am," Harrison said in acknowledgement.
Miss Carson was wearing a tailored charcoal black business suit with a white, open collar shirt underneath a slate gray vest. The open jacket revealed a silver belt buckle with a inverted triangle. In the center of the shape was a brilliant sapphire gem. Her dark hair was let down to her shoulders and open enough for Adam to make out tiny blue ear piercings that matched the gem on her belt buckle. Her race was fair, but neutral, despite the fact that she had a slight smile by the up-turned corners of her lips.
"A pleasure to finally meet you, Lieutenant," she greeted in return. "I've been reading up on your dossier." She reached over to an end table on the side of the chair and revealed a rather thick file. She opened the cover and her eyes scanned through several sheets of paper, clipped with various notes and few photographs. One particular excerpt she chose to read aloud, "Graduated from the ICA as an N6 in 2183, shortly before the Battle of the Citadel, during which he bestowed credit upon himself and the Alliance Navy by saving the lives of nearly thirty servicemen from the SSV Cape Town."
Adam looked slightly away from the two of them, already beginning to repress the horrible memory of the choice he had to make in order to save those thirty lives. Whatever dossier Miss Carson was reading, it wasn't giving the whole story; but he was glad it was that way. There needn't be a record of those details.
"You made quite an impression on the Alliance that day, Lieutenant," Carson went on. "Word got all the way up to Admiral Hackett on your performance."
"Thank you, ma'am," Adam replied, deciding to take everything she was saying as a compliment.
Carson placed the dossier back down on the table and stood up from the chair, folding her arms in front of her torso. "But I'm sure you'd rather know why you're here and not drag out the past. In truth, you're being selected for a special posting and reassigned to work for me."
Harrison's eyes darted to Delacroy and the general nodded, resting his chin on clasped hands. "Effective immediately," he added.
"What's the assignment, ma'am?" Adam returned to Carson.
The woman smiled and replied, "An espionage specialist for the Alliance's new deniable operations branch... Oracle."
Dialogue Response
The other day I shared a video of a dialogue between Dr. Bart Ehrman and Dr. Dan Wallace over the question "Is the original New Testament lost?" In brief, both agreed that the Bible today is not what it was in the first century, and many things have been lost in time; but their general response differed. Ehrman argued that it is now pointless to talk about "the original manuscripts", that they no longer exist. Wallace, however, argued that the original text is buried within the inaccuracies of today's surviving text.
Both of these are well respected historical scholars, and I agree with both men on many points. In the end, though, I must find myself in agreement with Bart's conclusion: that the originals are lost. Though Dan is right that the points the disciples were wanting to get across made it through, and that the values and virtues taught during Christ's walk on Earth have survived to this day and have made Christianity a great faith to practice, I can still see the hands of the church all over the pages of the Bible. Just as faith and sin are personal matters between you and God, so is recognizing the inconsistencies and the biased inserts and edits that riddle the scriptures hand-copied by uneducated scribes or wealthy men. Its a great book, but it bears a very murky history.
Some argue by quoting 2 Timothy 3:16 ("All scripture is God-breathed..."), claiming that if the Bible was influenced by God then it is infallible, inerrant, and to question its authenticity is nothing short of blasphemy. But are we going to say the same about the church? Today we would respond with a resounding NO! But this wasn't always so. In the past, the Holy Catholic Church held power over kings, made the laws of the lands, and influenced the politics of the known western world. Only when people dared to think did we realize that the church is not the alpha and omega.
Nor is the Bible.
There is holy scripture, indeed influenced by God; and then there are what I call "the additions". Those little tag-ons that only serve political and societal purposes. The Bible is not the Word. Let me repeat that: the Bible is not the Word. The Word is God, and the Word is completely Holy and Perfect and immeasurable and unexplainable and unknowable. The Bible is a compilation of scripture inspired by God and additions by man. It is no more holy than the hypocritical Pharisees that tried to ensnare Jesus in wordplay. God influenced the authors of the original scriptural texts, just as Christ walked with men; but by walking with us, He did not make us holier-than-thou. Christ enlightened us, just as the Bible can challenge us to think.
Do you remember the story behind Israel's name, its meaning? In Genesis 32:28, a man named Jacob wrestled with the Angel of God (some scholars suggest that this was God Himself). During the fight, Jacob dislocated his hip, but remained persistent and determined. He held out, and the angel stopped wrestling and asked the man for his name. When Jacob replied, the angel said, "Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome."
Do I challenge the Bible, what we have lazily come to group with God as being inerrant? Every single day. I wrestle with both God and man just as Jacob did.
I dare to think.
Both of these are well respected historical scholars, and I agree with both men on many points. In the end, though, I must find myself in agreement with Bart's conclusion: that the originals are lost. Though Dan is right that the points the disciples were wanting to get across made it through, and that the values and virtues taught during Christ's walk on Earth have survived to this day and have made Christianity a great faith to practice, I can still see the hands of the church all over the pages of the Bible. Just as faith and sin are personal matters between you and God, so is recognizing the inconsistencies and the biased inserts and edits that riddle the scriptures hand-copied by uneducated scribes or wealthy men. Its a great book, but it bears a very murky history.
Some argue by quoting 2 Timothy 3:16 ("All scripture is God-breathed..."), claiming that if the Bible was influenced by God then it is infallible, inerrant, and to question its authenticity is nothing short of blasphemy. But are we going to say the same about the church? Today we would respond with a resounding NO! But this wasn't always so. In the past, the Holy Catholic Church held power over kings, made the laws of the lands, and influenced the politics of the known western world. Only when people dared to think did we realize that the church is not the alpha and omega.
Nor is the Bible.
There is holy scripture, indeed influenced by God; and then there are what I call "the additions". Those little tag-ons that only serve political and societal purposes. The Bible is not the Word. Let me repeat that: the Bible is not the Word. The Word is God, and the Word is completely Holy and Perfect and immeasurable and unexplainable and unknowable. The Bible is a compilation of scripture inspired by God and additions by man. It is no more holy than the hypocritical Pharisees that tried to ensnare Jesus in wordplay. God influenced the authors of the original scriptural texts, just as Christ walked with men; but by walking with us, He did not make us holier-than-thou. Christ enlightened us, just as the Bible can challenge us to think.
Do you remember the story behind Israel's name, its meaning? In Genesis 32:28, a man named Jacob wrestled with the Angel of God (some scholars suggest that this was God Himself). During the fight, Jacob dislocated his hip, but remained persistent and determined. He held out, and the angel stopped wrestling and asked the man for his name. When Jacob replied, the angel said, "Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome."
Do I challenge the Bible, what we have lazily come to group with God as being inerrant? Every single day. I wrestle with both God and man just as Jacob did.
I dare to think.
Is the Original New Testament Lost?
Here's one of my favorite dialogues with Dr. Bart Ehrman, one of the world's leading religious scholars. In this nearly two hour long dialogue, Dr. Ehrman and Dr. Dan Wallace engage in a civil debate over how reliable the New Testament is today. Both men will give you quite an education in regards to the history of the Bible itself. I will present my own views on both the debate and what I think of the New Testament's reliability at a later date. For now, just enjoy the video.
What makes us unique?
One of the first questions we tackled at the beginning of my first philosophy class was "what makes the human race unique?" We instantly think that this question is so easy, a child could answer it. Yet our pride is speaking before our reason when we think so. When we re-address the question, we're left debating - for an extensive amount of time - the specific qualities, behaviors, and characteristics that make us unique.
Most left-minded thinkers instantly jump to the idea of morality, where they will claim that humans are the only ones that have it and understand it. But the answer hardly has any solid data to back it up. Few experiments have been conducted on animals to thoroughly conclude that other species either do or don't have an understanding of right and wrong. On the other hand, this is primarily because we're not even sure how to go about such a feat. In what manner should we conduct the experiment? What should the test subjects be? How long? In what kind of environment? Though these questions can be answered with random variables, the most difficult part of the experiment would be translation. Do you speak dog? I don't.
By far, the most interesting and appealing response to the question of "what makes us unique" was provided by Ayn Rand in her novel Atlas Shrugged. During John Galt's speech, the enigmatic mastermind explains:
So what is it that Mr. Galt is trying to get at here? What does he mean by volitional consciousness? The answer, folks is actually quite simple: We can choose evil. We can also choose to simply not care; to ignore what's going on around us, despite the fact that someone nearby could use our attention or our assistance. And if our "instinct" tells us to do one thing, we can decide, instead, to choose our own path and go against that gut feeling.
Most left-minded thinkers instantly jump to the idea of morality, where they will claim that humans are the only ones that have it and understand it. But the answer hardly has any solid data to back it up. Few experiments have been conducted on animals to thoroughly conclude that other species either do or don't have an understanding of right and wrong. On the other hand, this is primarily because we're not even sure how to go about such a feat. In what manner should we conduct the experiment? What should the test subjects be? How long? In what kind of environment? Though these questions can be answered with random variables, the most difficult part of the experiment would be translation. Do you speak dog? I don't.
By far, the most interesting and appealing response to the question of "what makes us unique" was provided by Ayn Rand in her novel Atlas Shrugged. During John Galt's speech, the enigmatic mastermind explains:
“A being of volitional consciousness has no automatic course of behavior. He needs a code of values to guide his actions. ‘Value’ is that which one acts to gain and keep, ‘virtue’ is the action by which one gains and keeps it. ‘Value’ presupposes an answer to the question: of value to whom and for what? ‘Value’ presupposes a standard, a purpose and the necessity of action in the face of an alternative. Where there are no alternatives, no values are possible.
“There is only one fundamental alternative in the universe: existence or non-existence-and it pertains to a single class of entities: to living organisms. The existence of inanimate matter is unconditional, the existence of life is not; it depends on a specific course of action. Matter is indestructible, it changes its forms, but it cannot cease to exist. It is only a living organism that faces a constant alternative: the issue of life or death. Life is a process of self-sustaining and-self-generated action. If an organism fails in that action, it does; its chemical elements remain, but its life goes out of existence. It is only the concept of ‘Life’ that makes the concept of ‘Value’ possible. It is only to a living entity that things can be good or evil.
“A plant must feed itself in order to live; the sunlight, the water, the chemicals it needs are the values its nature has set it to pursue; its life is the standard of value directing its actions. But a plant has no choice of action; there are alternatives in the conditions it encounters, but there is no alternative in its function: it acts automatically to further its life, it cannot act for its own destruction.
“An animal is equipped for sustaining its life; its senses provide it with an automatic code of action, an automatic knowledge of what is good for it or evil. It has no power to extend its knowledge or to evade it. In conditions where its knowledge proves inadequate, it dies. But so long as it lives, it acts on its knowledge, with automatic safety and no power of choice, it is unable to ignore its own good, unable to decide to choose the evil and act as its own destroyer.
“Man has no automatic code of survival. His particular distinction from all other living species is the necessity to act in the face of alternatives by means of volitional choice. He has no automatic knowledge of what is good for him or evil, what values his life depends on, what course of action it requires. Are you prattling about an instinct of self-preservation? An instinct of self-preservation is precisely what man does not possess. An ‘instinct’ is an unerring and automatic form of knowledge. A desire is not an instinct. A desire to live does not give you the knowledge required for living. And even man’s desire to live is not automatic: your secret evil today is that that is the desire you do not hold. Your fear of death is not a love of life and will not give you the knowledge needed to keep it. Man must obtain his knowledge and choose his actions by a process of thinking, which nature will not force him t9 perform. Man has the power to act as his own destroyer-and that is the way he has acted through most of his history."
So what is it that Mr. Galt is trying to get at here? What does he mean by volitional consciousness? The answer, folks is actually quite simple: We can choose evil. We can also choose to simply not care; to ignore what's going on around us, despite the fact that someone nearby could use our attention or our assistance. And if our "instinct" tells us to do one thing, we can decide, instead, to choose our own path and go against that gut feeling.