Irreligion: Absurdism vs. determinism

Two weekends ago, I rappelled off the end of my rope. I fell five feet, enough to badly break (“smash”) three bones in my ankle. Emergency surgery was performed at Saint Mary’s Regional Hospital in Grand Junction.

I have always thought that people who rappel off the end of their ropes to be the dumbest people on the planet. My opinion has not changed one bit.

Search and rescue from Mesa County and Gateway responded. The climbing ranger for the Black Canyon was climbing nearby and he jumped in to help. Medics from Saint Mary’s were there pumping me with painkillers (that had near zero affect). Law enforcement closed Highway 141 so the helicopter could land. We were violently buffeted by an imminent thunderstorm as we flew underneath the power lines next to the highway while the pilot tried to find some lift, cresting the rim of Unaweep Canyon between pinyon trees. Then we were off to the hospital.

I was in surgery at two in the morning. An external fixator was installed on my ankle. Soon I will go back under the knife and he will try to put all the little pebbles that used to be my heel bone into something more coherent. Thank you, Dr. Luke Myhre (Rocky Mountain Orthopedics).

A couple of days ago I met with Aspen’s own esteemed foot and ankle orthopedist, Dr. Waqqar B. Khan-Farooqi (Steadman Clinic). I wanted to get a second opinion of my upcoming second surgery. We had an interesting conversation. Some of it was about bones and breaks, but a lot of it was about philosophy. It turns out we had both had set in on lectures by the great American pragmatist philosopher, Richard Rorty — me when I was at Princeton Theological Seminary (where I dropped out) and he at Stanford. Later, when I was camped out at my parents house in Pale Alto writing my master’s thesis I would ride my bike over and visit Rorty in his office.

It was in the context of this conversation with Dr. Khan-Farooqi that he brought up the issue of absurdity as a central concept in pragmatism. Obviously he paid attention in class. Most people, especially of a scientific bent (e.g. medical science) passionately believe in determinism — everything happens for a reason. Cigarette smoking leads to lung cancer. Obesity leads to heart disease. Religious people believe in determinism as well. For example I could say the universe wanted to teach me a lesson about not paying attention, or learning humility, or appreciating search and rescue volunteers. I could go on. It’s not that those things are not true. The problem is that are way too many reasons to list for any event. There is not one or two or three reasons why I did something so stupid but rather a cacophony of reasons. Should we talk about my upbringing? My mental state? My feelings? The list is endless. Reductio ad absurdum. There isn’t a symphony playing in the background of my life or yours, its more like a garage band comprised of teenagers.

Laying alone among the rocks in the dirt for an hour and 40 minutes with your foot grotesquely twisted off 90 degrees to the side gives you time to think about things. Stoicism is asymptotic with pragmatism here, but I always think of stoicism as simply saying, “Boys don’t cry.” Which is of course an indelible truth. And if I did cry I am not going to tell you. But does that really help anything? It’s not enough to just keep a stiff upper lip before the lion eats you. How about you stab the emperor first? (Favorite movies alert: Gladiator with Russell Crowe!) Maybe I should crawl over and pull the rope down, coil it and stuff it in my pack. While not crying. (And whoever grabbed my quick draws please return them? Unless you are comfortable with me thinking you are a dirtbag for the rest of my life.)

When you start to think about it, Joni Ernst is right — we are all born to die. There is a fundamental absurdity about life. But should our inevitable suffering and death be taken as some kind of twisted fatalism? “What does it matter if a few million losers are tossed off of Medicaid, they are all going to die anyway, right?” Fatalism is often found in its religious forms, like when the Pakistani pilot trying to land at the airport in Gilgit signs off on the intercom saying, “Inshallah,” before beginning his horrific descent. That means, “God willing.” It’s a nice sentiment but can’t we do a little better? How about, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our descent, it will be bumpy, but don’t worry too much, I’ve done it blindfolded dozens of times. Yahoooooo!” Good thing I’m not a pilot.

Wish me luck, or say a little prayer for me if you believe in that stuff. Hopefully Luke will figure out where all those little puzzle pieces go.

David Hale earned his Ph.D. in Philosophy, Religion and Cultural Theory from the University of Denver and Iliff School of Theology. He is a Lecturer in Philosophy at Colorado Mesa University in Grand Junction and is a full time contractor in Snowmass.