Please keep these up, Sarah. Your essays are a breath of fresh air.
In modern times, through science and technology, the rich nations of the West have almost realized for many of their citizens the ancient dream of escaping the seemingly intractable drudgery and jeopardy of subsistence living that has been the experience of most human bei…
Please keep these up, Sarah. Your essays are a breath of fresh air.
In modern times, through science and technology, the rich nations of the West have almost realized for many of their citizens the ancient dream of escaping the seemingly intractable drudgery and jeopardy of subsistence living that has been the experience of most human beings through history. In fact, some who celebrate the coming of artificial intelligence suggest that we may have to reimagine human life without limitations. Even liberation from death, they say, may be just around the corner for all humankind—and this despite the fact, as the UN reports, that more people live today in abject slavery than at any other time in human history. That is an amazing and chilling irony, a dark fact that speaks of a darkness nestled within the human mind despite whatever the technologically advanced human soul might optimistically think. Though the idea is unpopular today, Christian theology has a name for this darkness—original sin.
But modern technology in the affluent West has allowed a great many of the well-fed and economically secure young to experience their lives in a way unprecedented in human history. In fact, many of them feel that they are entitled to possess, do, or become anything they might wish. They have been told that this is their right; consequently, they can ignore as myth the subterranean intimations of a relentless darkness within, dismissing the thought that such darkness might actually influence their desires and behavior. Of course, Aquinas these days is no more popular than the idea of original sin.
If anything characterizes contemporary times, it is an astonishing lack of self-awareness mixed with an unjustified and off-putting self-confidence that easily devolves into tantrums in the face of frustration. If technology and medicine empower young people to imagine themselves liberated from the real and routine threats of want, physical injury, and disease that ever attended their forebears, then their imaginations become free to conceive of other “unfair” limitations. It is their “right” to have these removed, too. For example, “Why do I need skills and experience to get a high-paying job,” or “My body’s sex or species does not match my mind’s imagined sexual or species identity.” Could such imaginings be evil? That is not even a consideration. Again, original sin is simply not a popular idea.
In 1956, “Forbidden Planet” debuted on American theater screens. It was a science fiction cautionary tale that has become an honored classic. Altair 4 was a faraway planet that was once the home of the Krell, intelligent beings who had created a peaceful, beneficent, high-technology civilization. But that civilization had disappeared, leaving only an underground, self-sustaining, energy-generating complex—an amazing scientific and cultural mystery on a planetary scale. The planetary civilization of the Krell, however, had vanished suddenly, seemingly in one night. Any surface trace of its existence had long ago crumbled to dust.
And that was the puzzle. As the story unfolds, the reason for that civilization’s destruction proved to be a mix of its own technology and unreflective hubris. The science of the Krell had created a source of power that the mind of each Krell could access, allowing unlimited energy to be turned to achieve any purpose a Krell mind might conceive. This, of course, represents the ultimate liberation from drudgery and want. It is a magical utopia where all wishes can be granted—the stuff of myth. Whatever a Krell might wish or desire, his mind could grant simply by imagining it. This is truly godlike power over nature, and the story’s plot is not an accident. The literary inspiration for the movie was Shakespeare’s “The Tempest.”
The highly advanced Krell, however, did not consider that a sullen darkness might lie hidden within their supremely developed intellects. They could not imagine that beneath their cultivated reason lurked a raging, mindless beast, a beast whose very presence had been successfully suppressed by millennia of ethical and beneficent civilization. But the beast was still there. What the Krell saw in their premier technical achievement was civilized reason’s employment of unlimited energy to create and give life; what the mindless primitive lurking within the Krell’s soul perceived was lustful rage’s opportunity to destroy and kill. Not understanding the danger, the Krell activated their civilization’s technical triumph and unleashed an irreversible nightmare.
Now undisciplined by any constraints of reality on the imagination, fantasy’s access to unlimited power proved to be universally lethal. In one night, the Krell race destroyed its civilization and itself. And that is the movie’s warning. For imagination does not have to be fueled by super-science in order to be lethal. A lack of self-awareness may be enough. Howling mindlessly in a train station implies a similar unreflective lust to destroy civilization, and this typically requires foolish people who enjoy privilege yet despise their own culture. Despite their advantages, they are the barbarians within the gates. Their frustrated imaginings reflect the fires of ruin and destruction. Once given power, their imaginations will make their lethal fantasies a reality. In contrast, those struggling to ensure the survival of their families, even in the face of hardship, imagine better lives for their children, not civilization on fire. And they more readily seek God, for they are mindful of their weaknesses and grateful for what they have. So they live, work, and create. They know the prodding of original sin, that inner darkness that invites disaster. They understand that it is there and know its deceptive power. But they resist the prodding. Their moral discipline? For many, it is faith and prayer, most certainly. But in addition, they are too busy humbly serving others by making things work—such as train stations. As Christ’s example teaches, humble service, not personal power, is light in the darkness, for Christ’s spirit shines in such service.
Please keep these up, Sarah. Your essays are a breath of fresh air.
In modern times, through science and technology, the rich nations of the West have almost realized for many of their citizens the ancient dream of escaping the seemingly intractable drudgery and jeopardy of subsistence living that has been the experience of most human beings through history. In fact, some who celebrate the coming of artificial intelligence suggest that we may have to reimagine human life without limitations. Even liberation from death, they say, may be just around the corner for all humankind—and this despite the fact, as the UN reports, that more people live today in abject slavery than at any other time in human history. That is an amazing and chilling irony, a dark fact that speaks of a darkness nestled within the human mind despite whatever the technologically advanced human soul might optimistically think. Though the idea is unpopular today, Christian theology has a name for this darkness—original sin.
But modern technology in the affluent West has allowed a great many of the well-fed and economically secure young to experience their lives in a way unprecedented in human history. In fact, many of them feel that they are entitled to possess, do, or become anything they might wish. They have been told that this is their right; consequently, they can ignore as myth the subterranean intimations of a relentless darkness within, dismissing the thought that such darkness might actually influence their desires and behavior. Of course, Aquinas these days is no more popular than the idea of original sin.
If anything characterizes contemporary times, it is an astonishing lack of self-awareness mixed with an unjustified and off-putting self-confidence that easily devolves into tantrums in the face of frustration. If technology and medicine empower young people to imagine themselves liberated from the real and routine threats of want, physical injury, and disease that ever attended their forebears, then their imaginations become free to conceive of other “unfair” limitations. It is their “right” to have these removed, too. For example, “Why do I need skills and experience to get a high-paying job,” or “My body’s sex or species does not match my mind’s imagined sexual or species identity.” Could such imaginings be evil? That is not even a consideration. Again, original sin is simply not a popular idea.
In 1956, “Forbidden Planet” debuted on American theater screens. It was a science fiction cautionary tale that has become an honored classic. Altair 4 was a faraway planet that was once the home of the Krell, intelligent beings who had created a peaceful, beneficent, high-technology civilization. But that civilization had disappeared, leaving only an underground, self-sustaining, energy-generating complex—an amazing scientific and cultural mystery on a planetary scale. The planetary civilization of the Krell, however, had vanished suddenly, seemingly in one night. Any surface trace of its existence had long ago crumbled to dust.
And that was the puzzle. As the story unfolds, the reason for that civilization’s destruction proved to be a mix of its own technology and unreflective hubris. The science of the Krell had created a source of power that the mind of each Krell could access, allowing unlimited energy to be turned to achieve any purpose a Krell mind might conceive. This, of course, represents the ultimate liberation from drudgery and want. It is a magical utopia where all wishes can be granted—the stuff of myth. Whatever a Krell might wish or desire, his mind could grant simply by imagining it. This is truly godlike power over nature, and the story’s plot is not an accident. The literary inspiration for the movie was Shakespeare’s “The Tempest.”
The highly advanced Krell, however, did not consider that a sullen darkness might lie hidden within their supremely developed intellects. They could not imagine that beneath their cultivated reason lurked a raging, mindless beast, a beast whose very presence had been successfully suppressed by millennia of ethical and beneficent civilization. But the beast was still there. What the Krell saw in their premier technical achievement was civilized reason’s employment of unlimited energy to create and give life; what the mindless primitive lurking within the Krell’s soul perceived was lustful rage’s opportunity to destroy and kill. Not understanding the danger, the Krell activated their civilization’s technical triumph and unleashed an irreversible nightmare.
Now undisciplined by any constraints of reality on the imagination, fantasy’s access to unlimited power proved to be universally lethal. In one night, the Krell race destroyed its civilization and itself. And that is the movie’s warning. For imagination does not have to be fueled by super-science in order to be lethal. A lack of self-awareness may be enough. Howling mindlessly in a train station implies a similar unreflective lust to destroy civilization, and this typically requires foolish people who enjoy privilege yet despise their own culture. Despite their advantages, they are the barbarians within the gates. Their frustrated imaginings reflect the fires of ruin and destruction. Once given power, their imaginations will make their lethal fantasies a reality. In contrast, those struggling to ensure the survival of their families, even in the face of hardship, imagine better lives for their children, not civilization on fire. And they more readily seek God, for they are mindful of their weaknesses and grateful for what they have. So they live, work, and create. They know the prodding of original sin, that inner darkness that invites disaster. They understand that it is there and know its deceptive power. But they resist the prodding. Their moral discipline? For many, it is faith and prayer, most certainly. But in addition, they are too busy humbly serving others by making things work—such as train stations. As Christ’s example teaches, humble service, not personal power, is light in the darkness, for Christ’s spirit shines in such service.