My wife stopped at the video store and brought home the Nicholas Cage film, "Knowing." The film received a lot of bad reviews when it opened in theatres but those reviewers may have chosen to overlook a large question the film raises: Is the universe deterministic, or random? Is everything preordained or is it free will? Do we have a role in what happens or is the outcome already a pre-written destiny, and if it is, who wrote it?
It's a common thread in science fiction. The determinist believes that everything we do, everything we think, everything we say, everything we write, has been determined from the beginning of time. In other words, it's predetermined, either because of the fundamental laws of physics or because they've been preordained by a higher power.
The "randomist," will say that you can't predict anything outside of the laws of physics, that human beings have free will and make choices --they determine their own destiny and the destiny of others.
The plot: Nicholas Cage plays an astrophysics professor who discovers that numbers unearthed in a time capsule have predicted every major disaster for the last 50 years. Some of those numbers predict disasters that are about to happen. He tries to prevent them (spectacular special effects) but fails. Predetermined? He saves the life of one woman and her child in one incident. Had he not been there, would she have survived? Doesn't seem likely. Is that free will affecting the outcome? Or were his actions all part of a grand design --an intelligent design, if you will.
The world does end in this film but who gets saved and who saves them just add to the list of questions the film invites you to ponder: Angels or aliens? (I heard both arguments after when I saw it in the theatre); Is the universe predetermined and unable to change course no matter what, or can you change your own destiny by the choices you make in life?
The film definitely pits the big-bang theory against the big-hand theory, though whether it's God behind the wheel is left up for debate. For better or worse, this movie tries to tackle some big ideas that require you to think about mortality and our place in the universe. Most of us don't go to the movies for that reason. We go to get away, so it can be a tall order to ask a film audience to think.
If you go to the movies looking for clean lines and closure, this isn't a film for you. This is not the kind of movie that will appeal to the "American Idol" or Jerry Springer crowd (which most movies seem to target these days).
There are two major special effects sequences in the film depicting spectacular disasters. Both are extremely well done and I was amused by the people who, at the time of the film's release, said those scenes were too frightening because you see people burning alive or getting crushed under tons of advancing steel. No, that's not frightening; that's what happens. If you've seen people die, particularly violently, you know it's not pretty and that death is terrifying. We should sanitize it? That sounds like the "American Idol" audience complaining.
The problem a film like "Knowing" faces is that the "American Idol" type viewer assesses the film at skin-level and doesn't bother appreciating that the film challenges you --but you have to want to be challenged. The other problem is that when you pose such a big question, you're faced with presenting an answer that only satisfies half the audience (or part of it), and that all depends on your interpretation, your belief system, the whole works.
A discussion like that can take us into a whole world of complexities, including the way in which we conduct our own national discourse on issues of the day. It seems we have several built-in mechanisms: a need for closure, a need for confirmation, a need for control.
We don't like unanswered questions. We want to know why and how and what happens next and how things end. We want the answers to be quick, simple, easy to understand. And when there are no answers (as is frequently the case) we turn to things like faith, superstition, spirituality, mysticism. Ages ago, an inexplicable phenomenon in the sky was attributed to the Gods; today, it's a solar eclipse. Yet, even with empirical evidence, there are deniers afoot: 9/11 Truthers, Obama Birthers, Kennedy Conspirators, the Flat Earth Society and Moon Landing Skeptics.
The tools we use to seek answers --science, reason, logic-- play a frustrating trick on us because answers often only yield more questions, some of which cannot be answered --at least not yet. That lack of closure and our need for answers leads us, I think, to faith, which doesn't require facts. It's what you believe. If religion were fact, it wouldn't be religion anymore; it would be science. Or it's the belief that the attacks on 9/11/01 were perpetrated by the government --maybe because you don't like the Bush Administration. Or it's the belief that Obama isn't an American citizen because you don't like the fact that he's the president. Or it's the belief that the current health care proposal has a provision that will require doctors to counsel the elderly on ending their lives.
What follows is some apparent natural inclination in us to seek out opinions and perspectives that support the conclusions we've drawn, what beliefs we've settled upon --viewpoints that are in consonance with our own. It's a herd instinct --individuals in groups acting together without logic or skepticism. We see it daily in the behavior of animals: herds, flocks, gaggles and prides, and we see it in our own lives in schools, where we choose to live or worship, stock market bubbles, sporting events, street demonstrations and mob violence… and everyday decision making, judgment and opinion-forming. And we've no interest in anything that will dispute those beliefs because ours is a quest for affirmation, not information.
We do this, I think, to have control, because having a set of beliefs, having answers, gives us control; the more we are without answers, the more some of us feel we have no control, no order. And we don't like answers that prove us wrong, because it upsets a paradigm, an order that we've established for ourselves. The upside of this upheaval should be that it forces us to think about things. We say we think about things. Do we think about the things we think about? We don't like questions --or answers-- that can require us to do that. We don't like answers like "The president really did believe there were WMDs" or "The president really is a citizen." Doesn't fit what's inside our belief window. We want answers that prove we're right.
We don't like questions without answers, even for unanswerable questions like, what happens when we die? If we're here because of the Big Bang then what happened before the Big Bang? And if we like the idea of a guy in flowing robes with a white beard and a long staff who controls the whole shebang (or that the president isn't a citizen), we find others who believe in kind in our never-ending quest for affirmation --the herd instinct, if you will.
Our need for closure compels us to seek answers for everything, including things for which there are no answers. We find ourselves caught between two worlds: Science, which has yet to uncover answers to macro questions because it demands empirical evidence, and; Faith, which has answers with no evidence whatsoever. You may argue that angels exist whether you believe in them or not, but you also say that angels do not exist whether you believe in them or not. Belief by definition stands outside of proof. If you can prove it, you don't need to believe it. And yet, even if something is immutably true, we may continue to deny it.
Are we not able to accept answers that prove the opposite of what we believe? Why not? Are there not some questions that can't be answered? Is that a bad thing? Why?
If you are deeply religious, you might believe that everything happens for a reason and that all is according to God's plan. An extreme determinist might say that everything that we do, everything that we think, everything that we say, everything that we write, has been determined from the beginning of time, in which case the very idea of taking credit for anything doesn't seem to make any sense. No one knows the answer to that but we do seem to behave at cross-purposes with ourselves. We blame people for what they do or give them credit for what they do, or admire them for what they do. No one ever says, "Oh, well he couldn't help doing that, it was already predetermined by his molecules. We don't say, "Oh, well; this unit has a faulty mother board and it needs to be replaced." And we don't say, well, that's the way God made him. If God knows all and sees all and all things are pre-ordained by God, how can we blame people for what they do? Sounds like free will. Yet, despite living in a society that values such principles as independence, free will, individual liberty, we debate often the need for rigid order --determinism-- in the form of religious dogma which suggests (in many faiths) that the script is written and everything will play out as planned and there's nothing you can do about it. Is it already written that you'll go out for coffee that day or did you decide this morning you had a craving for it? If this is the day you die, is it because you had a fatal traffic accident on the way to get that coffee, or do you live if you stayed home and make your own? What happens then; do you slip, fall and crack your skull in the shower? Can lower orders have degrees of free will? Is it already written that the parrot will squawks in the morning, or is it only strongly suggested by its instincts, or is it because it can't see its owner? (With my parrots, it sure seems like it's the last suggestion --they're such prima donnas!) You might say that people will see what they wanna see but I don't think that's accurate. I think people might also see what they don't wanna see and they might not like it and they might trash a film like "Knowing," or a policy proposal, or a political party, or an ideology. A lot of the things we believe in provide us with a comfort level and when it's challenged, we get uncomfortable. Many of us don't like being challenged because we don't like being uncomfortable. Maybe we'd be a lot better off if we didn't mind being uncomfortable a little more often, or figured out a better way to react to it rather than resort to pejorative name-calling and labeling.
But that doesn't mean the questions raised in a film like "Knowing" aren't relevant. There are the more pedestrian questions: What would you put into a time capsule? What would you do if you knew when disasters would occur? What if you knew tomorrow was your last day on Earth? And then there's perhaps the most metaphysical/spiritual question of all: Are we fated to a determined outcome or an accident of random chance, and does free will mean anything at all? Is it all just a cosmic coincidence, or is there a greater purpose? Do you ever think about these things?
Hell, I don't have the answer to those big questions --who does? But it doesn't bother me that I don't have the answer. I don't think a lot of people like being in a place where they don't have an answer --it's uncomfortable. Maybe it explains why they find faith in the first place. Maybe it explains why everything has to be a liberal way or a conservative way --very black and white. I don't know about you but I've talked to countless people like that, who can only evaluate in terms of absolutes. They want total clarity. I don't see the world that way. Sometimes, there's no definitive answer and I think that's a good thing --maybe it's what keeps some of us going.
Philosopher David Sosa on determinism and free will
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