Who are you? What do you want? ...my money??!

Can a parent feel safe knowing their child is alone at home? According to Sigmund Freud, we are children and can't be trusted to look out for ourselves; we’ll just get into trouble. But then who should be entrusted with our well-being? This question arose in me after witnessing Adam Curtis’ film The Century of the Self. Furthermore, from reading Sigmund Freud’s Civilization and its Discontents, I came to see how Freud views man as infantile with reference to religion. This idea also contributed to my question and helped me understand how I view myself.

With the way that Edward Bernays was portrayed in Curtis’ film, I actually felt insulted. His idea that the masses “are all stupid” and need elite psychologists to manage them demonstrates how futile he finds civilization. If the populace had no superior (yet still human) guidance, would we all break out in riotous violence? This is untrue. Yes, there are hooligans and trouble-makers, but I sincerely believe that humans enjoy peace) over all else (not utilitarian pleasure maximization) and have the capacity to get there without “supervision”. It appears that these ruffians influence people around them and thus become unruly, not that everyone innately levitates towards causing a ruckus. However, the notion is supported that we are irrational and need rational-minded people to guide us, like Bernays. This hierarchical classification of humans seems outright uncouth. It is essentially a scheme to control people and use them as consumers, boosting the incomes of the rich and greedy, like Bernays.

We must also ponder which types of gatherings are being discussed. The film portrayed urban and constricted crowds. All the surrounding commotion and chaotic action have the potential to aggravate the throngs of people, unlike peaceful gatherings like pilgrimages or festivals. Still, the need for the subliminal advertisements appealing to carnal yearnings is really only benefitting the businessmen. With their billboards of beautiful broads and brilliant BMWs, do they truly care about comforting us, or pacifying our primitive urges with capitalist propaganda?

One additional element that I would like to point out is Freud’s view of religion. Its rudimentary meanings seem to contradict this entire blog. He states that humans are infantile and need a father’s protection and guidance. As a Christian, I see the need for this father figure as a need for God, and this is what Freud also finds. Conversely, he writes this in a condescending tone to theists. Unlike the greedy administrators of mass consumerism, this leader is a loving and caring one, a true father, here to benefit us. Though we may be rational, we all make some mistakes and need direction. The God of religion is not a greedy capitalist manipulator. He acts as a shepherd, keeping us within range. Nonetheless, it actually is childlike that Christians come to their Father-God in humble prayer asking for pardon and protection, but I do not view this as pathetic, like Freud does. I view this as courageous and strong, accepting and asking for help when we know that we cannot live righteously alone.

According to Curtis, Freud or Bernays, we cannot take care of ourselves. We are too feeble-minded, and for religion, too carnal to always make the right choice. However, the suggestions of who should take care of us and what their modes for doing so are, are significant. Should it be an avaricious businessman, perhaps an omnipotent deity or - ourselves? The answer is in a choice, one that only you can make.

What makes a martyr a martyr?

Did Socrates know what he was getting into when he practiced his pensive personality? Perhaps it is his circumstances of his death that allowed his name to endure centuries to appear in my course work. His personality, thought process and death is well known, but only after pondering a while … (and doing a brief Google search) did I realize that Socrates actually was a martyr, but in a different sense than what I had previously held martyrs to be. Historically, martyrdom was synonymous with standing up for spirituality and religion in the face of hypocrisy and persecution. However, I see that martyrdom means accepting an unjust death for not backing down from one’s belief, whether or not that belief was preached out loud, or simply discussed.

It is certain that Socrates was willing to die for his philosophy (he even explained how escaping from jail would be against his very own beliefs and that it was contrary to his acceptance of society). He never thought that he should change or deny his ideas for others to accept him, but also, he didn’t think that his philosophy would end up killing him. In section XXVIII of the Apology (page 45), Socrates innocently states, “I am not accustomed to think that I deserve anything evil.” Socrates was not a public figure in Athens who was out to cause trouble, nor did he ever burst out in agony or distress about his society or even try to get sympathy or admiration for his point. He simply talked to and questioned people about their ideas; he was not a dramatic figure denouncing society like Martin Luther for example, rather, Socrates was an innocent conversationalist. What is more, a martyr cannot be a martyr without unjustly dying for their beliefs (the Oxford English Dictionary supports this definition). They may display displeasure with society in order for people to see their point, but this is only one path, usually taken by people who want change. Apple’s definition of a martyr is for revolutionary people, not tame people killed for their beliefs, like Socrates. A martyr is not always out to be martyred, rather, becoming one is an end result, no matter if beliefs are outwardly or dramatically propagated or not.

The above quote demonstrates that Socrates did not believe his actions deserved death; for he did not preach against the gods, or against men, but eventually defended his own beliefs in the face of persecution. This is further supported by Socrates’ defense that the Athenians “…have scarcely spoken one single word of truth,” (Section I of the Apology, page 21). Nonetheless, Socrates still accepts the verdict because, ultimately, he knows that his accusers are corrupt. He also knows injustice is occurring before him – just like the martyrs of Christendom. St. Peter accepted fate, not because he deserved death (for being an out-law, which he would’ve recognized he was since he had broken Roman law, which by the way was pagan in his eyes), but because he stood for truth. Trying to escape death would translate into denying the truth that is being stood for, which St. Peter never did, this is what made him a martyr. He never tried to show his suffering or get sympathy; he simply stood for truth.

Over three hundred years before, Socrates did the same, and this means that he must be a martyr too. A martyr consents to their unjust death because they acknowledge that their society is corrupt, obviously not realizing the truth that they themselves stand for, be it divine grace or philosophical discussion. Whether or not the truth is dramatically displayed or simply evident in their conversations, a martyr is unjustly persecuted and killed. This is what happened to Socrates; unbeknownst to him, his innocent conversations and examination crossed the unseen boundaries of Hellenic society’s rule. He was not out to be killed for his belief, but he was willing to be killed for them. After being called out and questioned, he never denied his beliefs and thus he accepted his unjust verdict, delivered to him by a morally blind jury. Never making a scene with, though dying for, his light-hearted, perambulating antics, Socrates is one of the few philosophical martyrs and perhaps it is his innocent stance that makes this such a poignant example of martyrdom.