Saturday, March 31, 2012

History and objective truth.

'To remain ignorant about what happened before you were born, is to remain forever a child' - Cicero

What is history? When the God created the world with it simultaneously the birth of time took place. From the womb of time flows all history. History is the recording of past events or to be precise an interpretation of the past events. Many a times we fail to draw this distinction. The subject of history has attracted the attention of many great thinkers and philosophers for centuries. The importance of the subject cannot be denied. However, the question of objective history remains as controversial today as it was during the time of Herodotus and Thucydides.

By objective history one means that is history a factual account of what actually happened in the past or is it just a subjective evaluation of the past events on part of the historian. Can history claim itself to be a purely scientific discourse? If yes then on what grounds it can claim to be a science? If not then what productive function can history perform if it is merely a subjective interpretation of the past?

Lipold von Ranke once summoned all the historians and asked them to work on a major project. Their task was to record the past 'as it actually happened'. The project seemed possible to many, for others it was doomed to fail. Positivists have always been of the view that history can follow a scientific method and a critical approach can help us arrive at the truth which is 'out there'. JS Mill famously argued that historical laws are discoverable by inductive reason. History unfolds itself by showing regular patterns and follows certain laws. Therefore, if a historian remains loyal to such laws in recording of past events he/she will end up arriving at the actual truth. Psychological laws are also considered to be part of historical laws that are discoverable by human reason.

Positivists have always been accused of over simplification with regards to their theory of history. There is a major difference between a historian and a scientist. A scientist studies phenomena from the outside whereas a historian studies it from the inside. B. Corce was of the view that history is subjective because historian himself is always present in his construction. James Baldwin aptly summed up the position in these words, 'People are trapped in history and history is trapped in them'.  Albert Camus says in 'The Rebel',

''Man cannot grasp the totality of history since he lives in the midst of this totality. History as an entirety can only exist in the eyes of the observer outside it and outside the world.''

I happen to agree with this view. Objective history is an impossibility. The question of objective history is intimately tied to historical absolute or the ultimate telos of history. Such an absolute can only be conceived either from the outside or after the end of history. The suggestion that we can arrive at objective truth by studying the psychological motives of the people can even be dismissed by use of common sense. At times, we find it difficult to know the exact motives of our close family members and friends. If knowing the motives of our loved ones is difficult then imagine the impossibility of knowing the motives of people who lived thousands of years ago before us. Perhaps history is nothing more than a reconstruction of our past tradition by 'intellectual empathy' for our forefathers.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Neruda's Postman!

'Poetry isn't only for those who write it, but also for those who need it.'

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Naivity of the Human Race

"In most cases, people, even the most vicious, are much more naive and simple-minded than we assume them to be'' - Brothers Karamazov

Monday, March 26, 2012

Monday, March 12, 2012

Ghalib and Philosophical Idealism!

'Hasti ke mat fareb mein aajiyo aey Asad
Aalam tamaam Halqah-e-daam-e-Khayaal hai' - Ghalib

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Chaos within, Chaos without!

It is 11 March 2012. Here I am wasting my time on my blog. As I compose this post of mine, I don't exactly know for what purpose I am writing it. Neither do I know where exactly my current flow of thought will lead me. Complete uncertainty surrounds life at times. May be its one of those days for me too. This is not the first time I am encountering such a state of affairs. In fact it has become quite a routine now. What is happening to me? I don't know. How do I feel? I don't know again. Nevertheless, whatever it is, its not a pleasant state of mind .

I think there is certainly something wrong with me. May be I think too much. May be I like to think of myself as a thinking man when in reality I may not be such a person. Sometimes I think I need to indulge myself in some work or keep myself busy to avoid thinking. But then I will only be able to indulge myself in some work when I will actually stop thinking. What should I do? Where should I go? I know not. Is this a punishment or a reward? I know not.

I am not a human being. Perhaps, I am nobody. Frustration, resentment and self-destruction defines me. May be life is manifesting its dark side in me. Light serves no purpose when one is blind. Eyes are of no value when there is complete darkness. My life lacks light and today I feel completely blind too. Imagine how terrible one's life would be when absurd claims like these make more sense to oneself than one's very own ordinary daily life.

My mind speaks to me. It lacks direction but still forces me to keep on moving despite being cognizant of being lost. Alas! its time to come to terms with my ultimate fate. My life is nothing but chaos within and chaos without.








What is Life!

'' The purpose of life is to reconcile us to its eventual loss. ” Julian Barnes from Sense of an Ending

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Fable Of The Mermaid And The Drunks - Neruda

All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
They had been drinking: they began to spit.
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh.
Obscenities drowned her golden breasts.
Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears.
Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes.

They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor.
She did not speak because she had no speech.
Her eyes were the colour of distant love,
her twin arms were made of white topaz.
Her lips moved, silent, in a coral light,
and suddenly she went out by that door.
Entering the river she was cleaned,
shining like a white stone in the rain,
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Person in Love.

I have quite often wondered about the nature of love. The popular image of love never ceases to amaze me. Its laden with false ideas and misconceptions. Things like fidelity, sincerity, longevity and a kind of benign symbiosis are considered to be essential characteristics of love. When in reality they may not have anything to do with it. The problem lies in seeing love only as a romantic concept when in reality it may be one of the most destructive concepts. It has the tendency to corrupt the clear perception of a person. No wonder a person in love quite often over estimates his own abilities.