Regents Room on Monday!

Students in Dr. Benton's and Dr. McMahon's sections of Enduring Questions will be meeting in the Regents Room in Knight Hall at noon on Monday, November 21st.  See you there!

Claymation Allegory of the Cave

Thanks for sending this to us, Virginia!

Superior Autobiographical Memory: Want it? Believe in it?

Nietzsche argues we might need to forget. Santayana asserts we need to remember. But how much? Watch the video below to learn more about “superior autobiographical memory,” an anomalous condition which affords a rare set of individuals the ability for almost “total recall.” Some revel in the ability, but for others it is an obstacle to their happiness.

The privacy of your own heart

New York Times columnist David Brooks (remember him from The Social Animal reading this summer? that's Brooks on the left), published an article today titled "If It Feels Right ...." The teaser for the article, which was embedded in the e-mail alert I was sent, reads: "The rise of moral individualism has produced a generation unable to speak intelligibly about the virtuous life."  This seemed to me relevant to some discussions we've been having in class and on-line about the moral relativism and happiness (and Mother Night).

While reading the article, I was especially struck by this passage:

"Many [young people] were quick to talk about their moral feelings but hesitant to link these feelings to any broader thinking about a shared moral framework or obligation. As one put it, 'I mean, I guess what makes something right is how I feel about it. But different people feel different ways, so I couldn’t speak on behalf of anyone else as to what’s right and wrong.'

"Smith and company found an atmosphere of extreme moral individualism — of relativism and nonjudgmentalism."

I recommend the article to you.  Click on the link above to check it out. And let us know what you think about any of this by leaving a comment in the comment box at the bottom of the page.  Is everything relative? Truth?  The meaning of a novel?  What makes people happy?

And just for fun, I'm throwing in this video of Brooks talking about The Social Animal.

Happiness Unplugged

Ever perform what philosophers call a “thought-experiment” and imagine that you could be somewhere else, someone else? What if it these things were possible? Would you do it? Would it make you happy? (Click here for more thought experiments.)

In his essay titled “The Experience Machine,” philosopher, Robert Nozick (that's Nozick in the photo at right) argues that doing so would constitute “a kind of suicide.” But not everyone agrees, in The Matrix, the character Cypher (Joe Pantoliano) asserts it would be “bliss.” If movies make you happy (are movies experience machines?) and you are interested in using the vehicle of contemporary cinema to ponder whether we are “brains in vats” (as philosopher Hilary Putnam--a man, by the way--put it in his essay “Brains in Vats;" click on this link to read a discussion of it), then you might want to watch, among others:

 The Matrix (1999)

Thinking about Forgetting: Seek Eternal Sunshine

Think only philosophers speculate on the merits of forgetting? No way.  Forgetting is also a popular theme in popular culture. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) considers both the appeal of forgetting and its price. And lest we forget, the title of the film refers to lines from Alexander Pope’s “Eloisa to Abelard” (1717).

Here's the trailer:

And here's a link to a very good scholarly article on the film by Christopher Grau.

This post has been crafted for you by Dr. Jennifer McMahon.

War films cannot depict the reality of war

Click here to read an accessible and interesting article relevant to Mother Night and the issue of fiction representing reality (thanks for the link, Dr. McMahon!). "Carnage and Glory, Legends and Lies," by Michael Norman (see image at right) originally published in the New York Times in July, 1996, contends that war films cannot depict the reality of war.

It begins:

For the record, I know the drill. I've saluted my superiors and spit shined my shoes and marched till my arches were aching. I've aimed a rifle and reeled at the awful result. In short, I'm a typical American paradox, a veteran who still boils at the Beltway blockheads who bloodied his generation and a former marine who will always step forward for his beloved corps.

331: If It Makes You Happy . . .

On Friday, 331 reflected on Julia Annas's claim that some people's "desires are in obvious ways defective," and whether it is possible that "defective desires" might give someone the false impression that they are happy.

To further stimulate our discussion of this issue, we watched a short clip from the 2000 film Traffic, directed by Steven Soderbergh, in which a conservative politician comes home to find his daughter smoking crack.  We went on to imagine a conversation the two of them might have (when the daughter's high wore off) in which the daughter might claim that she is happy with her life, and her dad might counter that she doesn't know what happiness is if she thinks smoking crack makes her happy.

Is happiness purely subjective?  Is there a good reason to think of happiness in a different way?  Could the dad be right?

Move to minute 6:33 mark if you would like to see the clip we watched, but be prepared for "strong language" (you might want to turn down the volume if there are kids around; the film is rated "R"):

331: A Noon class with Annas

On Wednesday, 331 discussed the following ideas that were derived from Julia Annas’s essay “Happiness as Achievement”:
1) J must be determined via a global perspective (as opposed to a linear one)
2) Feeling good and having your desires satisfied is not enough for J (242)
3) J lies not just in having material objects or positions of power; you have to earn them (243)

In the video below, recorded on March 31st, 2011 at the University of Pennsylvania, Annas discusses what it means to "flourish." (Annas herself shows up at the six-minute mark after an introduction delivered by James Pawelski.)

331 Takes on Taylor

Richard Taylor

In Monday’s class, we discussed the following ideas associated with Richard Taylor’s essay, “Virtue Ethics":

1) "There are many ingredients to J, but no one thing causes J (227)

2) J is similar to health, but J is not the same thing as health (230)  (Not all healthy people are J, but all J people are healthy; health is necessary for happiness but sufficient for J) (231)

3) The expression of creative intelligence is necessary, but not sufficient, for J (232-233)

4) “Lesser beings” are not capable of Taylor’s definition of eudaimonia.

5) Defining one’s own self is the main path to J  (223-226) 

Some of us puzzled over Taylor’s claim that J is “not gained simply by choice” (230) and some pointed out that factors beyond an individual’s control may affect his or her ability to achieve J.

The Beat Goes On in 331

Now that the semester is under way, and everyone has at least had a chance to find their way around the Mother Night questions on this website (click “Mother Night assignment” above), I think we can begin adding new posts here designed to stimulate on-line further thought and discussion of issues raised in the various sections of Enduring Questions.  To that end, I’d like to begin by sharing some of the ideas that have been floating around Horace Mann room 331 on MWF from noon to 12:50 this week as well as some of the questions we've been grappling with.

Click on these links to find out more about what we've been up to:

Friday August 19th.:  Daniel Nettle's "Introduction" to Happiness
Wednesday, August 17th.  What is happiness?

Comparison Shopping

In the introduction to Happiness, Daniel Nettle, points out that feelings of happiness are shaped by “comparison with alternative outcomes.” If things turn out better than you expected, you may be happy, even though the results were imperfect.
Consider this insight into the relationship between expectation and happiness as it might be used to think through a political thought experiment.

Which of the three societies would be happiest (assume that everyone works):
a) a society in which half the households bring in more than $70,000 a year, the other half bring in less than $70,000 a year, and neither side expects to ever make more or less;
b) a society in which every household brings in $70,000 a year and no one expects to ever bring in much more or less;
c) a society in which a small number of households earns much more than $70,000; most earn much less than $70,000; and all believe that each year at least some households in the higher-income bracket will trade places with some in the lower income group?

What does your answer say about human nature and happiness calculations?

331 Engages Daniel Nettle

Daniel Nettle

In Friday’s class (August 19), we discussed questions provoked by several passages from Daniel Nettle’s Introduction to Happiness. Among these:

1. “. . . Jefferson’s rights one [life] and two [liberty] may open the stable door, but only number three—the pursuit of happiness—is going to make it go anywhere” (ix). The question: Should happiness be the motor that drives us?

2. “If maximizing happiness is the point of individual lives, then the point of systems of government and economy should be to maximize our collective or aggregate happiness” (ix). The question: If government is in the happiness business, is that its sole purpose or does it have other responsibilities?

Aristippus

3. “The Greek philosopher Aristippus argued in the fourth century B.C. that the goal of life is to maximize the totality of one’s pleasures” (ix). The question: Do people endlessly seek happiness in all that they do?

4. “[Level two happiness] concerns not so much feelings, as judgments about the balance of feelings” (x). The question: How much does perspective affect the balance of feelings?

“[W]e intuitively feel that there is something called happiness, something unitary but not trivial, concrete enough to strive for yet broad enough to be worth striving for” (xi). The question: Is a life spent seeking happiness actually a happy life?

“In addition to the three levels of the ordinary meaning of happiness, some scholars have used the term simply to mean the attainment of whatever it is that people want” (xi). The question: To what extent is happiness derived from what one has already attained and to what extent is it derived from what one strives to have?

Other questions:
To what extent can happiness be derived through one’s association with others? How happy can one be trying to make others happy?

Is “fulfilling your potential” (eudaimonia) ever a realistic goal, given that we only have one life to live?

How does one measure whether or not someone is living up to his or her potential (eudaimonia)? Whose perspective should be trusted? The individual whose potential is being measured? Or those looking on from the outside?

Daniel Nettle on Evolution

Daniel Nettle, the first author in our anthology, talks about teaching evolutionary theory to first-year college students. Click on the video below to hear (and see) him give an hour-long presentation on his experiences in 2009 at UCLA.

We have been convocated!

  

331 Asks: What is happiness?

On Wednesday, 331 addressed the question “What is happiness?” Some suggested that happiness involves “being content” both with “what you have” (your possessions and accomplishments) as well as “what you are” (your identity). Others observed that possessions and circumstances are not sufficient for happiness to emerge; attitude is also important. It was also pointed out that happiness is not merely a state of mind; past experiences affect our potential for current happiness. This observation about the sparked the question: Can an individual simply decide at any moment to be happy? To what extent is happiness a decision?

We also talked about the way happiness can be used to refer to a temporary feeling or a feeling associated with more general, long term, “big picture” concerns.

Another topic of discussion was whether “bad people” (immoral ones) can be happy. On this issue, some suggested that although bad people may appear to be happy at a particular moment in their lives, their bad behavior typically stems from a lack of compassionate feeling for others that may be rooted in previous experiences of abuse and misfortune they may have suffered. Thus, the happiness of the immoral person may be a superficial layer on top of other layers of unhappiness.

Sylvia Plath and Her Children (ca. 1962)

The question of whether or not happiness is necessary for a worthwhile life also provoked some interesting observations. In addressing this question, some of us suggested that accomplishment alone cannot be the single measure of value. Accomplishment is incomplete without appreciation. A happy person appreciates his or her health and family. Others observed that when you are talking about whether or not a life is worthwhile, it is important to differentiate between the feelings an individual may have about his or her own life and the feelings others may have about his or her life. For example, a great poet may feel that her own life is worthless, but others who care for her and her work will disagree (for more on Sylvia Plath, see video below). Others noted that in addition to measuring the value of a life in terms of its impact on society at large (as with the great poet or a political leader), it is also possible to measure its value in terms of its impact on a small community of friends and family.

Finally, we talked about the relation between “being human” and “being happy.” Some suggested that one thing that differentiates human beings from other animals is that human beings depend more on emotional connections to survive. An example was given of the affection babies require in order to survive. (Click here to learn more about Rene Spitz's contributions to this line of thought.; click here for Harry Harlow's thoughts on monkeys need for love.)

If you have thoughts about any of these questions, please leave a comment.

An unhappy poet?

Sylvia Plath.

Humans Need Emotional Attachment

Watch the video below to learn more about Rene A. Spitz's study of the human need for emotional attachment.

Welcome aboard!

"Ulysses and the Sirens" (1891) by John William Waterhouse

So you're officially a college student.  And not just that, you're in ECU Honors.  Congratulations and welcome.  You've officially arrived.  It's a brave new world.   A new place, new people, and new expectations.  But fear not, signs of your success are already apparent.  If you're reading this, then you made it to the HNRS 1213 blog.  That's step #1.  And better yet (Step #2), you already have the book for the summer reading (You do, right?  If not, stop reading this right now, yes now, go get your book--Kurt Vonnegut's Mother Night--and then start reading this again.  Seriously.).  After taking a peek at the questions on this website (click here;  yes there ARE a lot.  Don't panic!), you may be thinking to yourself (that's called reflection and good too by the way)--"What exactly am I supposed to do here?"  These questions  have a simple purpose.  They are designed to help you engage with the text (and the rest of us).  And since we certainly don't want you to feel uncertain or to approach the questions "willy-nilly" (a fun way to say without structure or system), click here to see the rules.

Mother Night: Rules of Engagement

Dr. Jennifer McMahon

Responses to questions on this website are designed to generate "virtual dialogue." By virtual we do not mean something that looks like conversation but isn't. Instead, we mean REAL conversation in a virtual environment--the blog.

The sort of conversation we're looking for is academic in character. Thus, your responses should be clear, concise statements of your ideas crafted in standard English (not text-speak--some of us are old!). They should be long enough to convey your thoughts, but short enough for other readers to read and respond to fairly quickly. In short, you don't want your responses to be so long that you monopolize (or kill) the conversation by going on, and on, and on.....(we all know how irritating that can be!).

Dr. Houston Mount

Obviously, responses should not use profanity. They should be civil and respectful. People do not always agree. Responses can be critical; however, all communication is expected to be courteous and professional. Contributor's positions may be questioned; their character should not.

When should I begin posting my responses?
As soon as you have read the introduction to Mother Night. After you've read later chapters, you can read the questions associated with them (don't respond to a question about chapter twenty-five until you have read chapters one through twenty-five).

How many questions should I respond to?

Dr. Steve Benton

We do not expect you to respond to each question, but you should respond to several representing different sections of the book.  

How much should I write?

Your responses should add up to a sum total of not less than 750 words.  Don't try to load up all 750 words into one or two comments.  You should also respond to comments left by other readers. And pose questions to other readers. (Check back later to see if anyone has responded to your comments-and respond to their responses.)  All of this writing will count toward your word total.

Where do I post my responses?
At the bottom of each question post, you will find a "comment" link. If it has a "0" beside it, that means no one has commented yet; as more people comment, the number will go up. (Click here to see a list of all the chapters that have questions associated with them.) When you're ready to weigh in, click on the "comments" button, read any previous comments, and start writing. Please sign your posts. And use your real name--not a nickname--so we can get to know each other).

How will this affect my grade in Enduring Questions: Perspectives from Western Humanities?

Your grade on this assignment will represent approximately 1/8th of your writing grade for the course.

More questions?
E-mail us at jmcmahon@ecok.edu, hmount@ecok.edu, or sbenton@ecok.edu!

Engaging Mother Night

Welcome to your first assignment for Enduring Questions, Fall 2011.  In this post, you will find links to about 40 question sets about Kurt Vonnegut's 1961 novel, Mother Night.

After you've read the chapters listed below, click on the links, read the corresponding questions and comments other readers may have left (click on the "comment" button beneath each post to see them), and then join the discussion (or initiate it).

Introduction #1: Who we pretend to be
Introduction #2: And the moral is . . 

Introduction #3: Monkey Business

Introduction #4: Fire-bombing Dresden

Introduction #5: Vonnegut = a Nazi?...

More questions after the break!

Mother Night: Film Connections

Howard Campbell dedicates his confession to Mata Hari, the Dutch exotic dancer and prostitute who was executed as a German spy during World War One.  In 1931, the Swedish film superstar Greta Garbo played Mata Hari in the film with that name.  Here's a striking three-minute clip from that film, directed by George Fitzmauriece:

Following the break is a chronological list of several more films that explore some of the issues addressed by Mother Night:

Introduction #1: Who we pretend to be

A disguised Dr. Benton  is escorted out of Buckingham Palace

Question #1. Mother Night is one of those books whose introduction should not be skipped. It begins with this short, three-sentence paragraph: “This is the only story of mine whose moral I know. I don’t think it’s a marvelous moral; I simply happen to know what it is: We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.” (v) We’re only one paragraph deep in this book, and we already have some unpacking to do.

First of all, there’s the question of the extent to which the claim—“we are what we pretend to be”—is true. Are we what we pretend to be? On the one hand, this claim seems obviously false. Pretending to be the Queen of England is not going to win me any privileges at Buckingham Palace. On the other hand, if you pretend to be a friendly person, even though in your heart of hearts you are a resentful jerk, someone might reasonably conclude that your friendly behavior counts for more than the sour attitude you have successfully hidden from the world. And if you pretend to love your job, will your boss really care that deep down, you’d rather be parasailing? When, if ever, do appearances (or actions) matter more than “true feelings”?

Introduction #2: And the moral is . . .

Kurt Vonnegut knows the moral of Mother Night.

Another question relevant to this first paragraph concerns the relation between narratives and meanings. The author of Mother Night claims to know the moral of this story. We may choose to believe that this is an honest account of Kurt Vonnegut’s thoughts about his novel Mother Night. Or we may we choose to believe that this claim is but another piece of fiction like all the others contained with the covers of this novel. Either way, we are left with this question: do authors know what their stories mean better than readers do? Vonnegut may be able to speak about what motivated him to write Mother Night. And he might tell us what effect he hoped it would have on readers. But that is not the same thing as knowing what the moral of the story is. A reader might reach a different conclusion about Mother Night’s moral than the one recommended by Vonnegut. Would Vonnegut always be right in such disagreements? Some would say, “Yes. He wrote the book; he knows what it means.” Others might say that when it comes to the meaning of books, truth is in the eye of the beholder. Still others would argue that truth is communal property. In other words, it’s not true because you say it’s true; it’s true to the extent that you can convince others that it is true. What do you think?

Introduction #3: Monkey Business

1931 comedy directed by Norman Z. Mcleod

#3. Before we leave the first page, consider the first sentence in the second paragraph: “My personal experience with Nazi monkey business was limited.” What do you make of that phrase: “Nazi monkey business”? The Nazis started World War II which, I am told by my good friends at Wikipedia (always there when I need them), resulted in more than 60 million deaths, including 6 million civilians (Jews, mostly) who were murdered in concentration camps. What effect is achieved by using the term “monkey business” to refer to what the Nazis did? (Just a few pages later the author refers to bombing victims as “jumbo fried grasshoppers.”)

Vonnegut is often praised for his dark sense of humor, but others find his irreverence offensive. Can you think of any reasons a sensible person might say comedy can serve a higher purpose than adding a few giggles to your day, a purpose that might justify its cheeky treatment of serious or tragic subjects? When is it inappropriate to make jokes about something?

Introduction #4: Fire-bombing Dresden

Dreden, Germany:  February 13 - 14, 1945

4. On pages vi and vii of the introduction, Vonnegut discusses the allied fire-bombing of Dresden during World War II, which he, as an American soldier and prisoner-of-war, witnessed personally (click here to listen to Vonnegut talking about it; click here to see and read a letter he wrote when he was a Prisoner of war;). He deals with this event more extensively in his best-known novel, Slaughterhouse-Five, but given Mother Night’s concern with patriotism and crimes committed during World War II, you may want to explore the issue for yourself in order to respond to this question: Was the fire-bombing of Dresden justified? Was it a criminal act? Can you provide any examples of an act in a just war that some would claim was unjustifiable? How would defenders of the act go about justifying it? What reasons might both sides provide to support their claims?  Click here for further reflection on the issue.

Introduction #5: Vonnegut = a Nazi?

"Parson Weems' Fable" (1939) by Grant Wood

5.  At the end of the introduction (vii-viii), the author makes the following remarkable claim: “If I’d been born in Germany, I suppose I would have been a Nazi, bopping Jews and gypsies and Poles around . . . .” What effect is this claim likely to have on readers’ appraisal of the author’s moral authority?

Does it expose him as an immoral opportunist?

Or does it reinforce his standing as an honest man?

Editor's Note: Can fiction lie?

6. In the “Editor’s note” on page ix (Mother Night is one of those books whose editor’s note should not be skipped), the author cautions readers against the lies that Campbell may have included in his confession: “To say that [Campbell] was a writer is to say that the demands of art alone were enough to make him lie, and to lie without seeing any harm in it.” The irony is thick, since Campbell himself is an artistic creation. To suggest that Campbell existed is a lie (Vonnegut’s)—except that the claim is made within the covers of a book that is labeled as a fiction.

Pinocchio (1940). When he lied, his nose grew.

Can fiction lie? Does labeling something as fiction excuse it from all moral judgment? If fiction can not “lie,” can it be false in ways that are morally condemnable? Later in the same passage (ix-x), the author suggests that “lies told for the sake of artistic effect—in the theater, for instance, and in Campbell’s confessions, perhaps—can be, in a higher sense, the most beguiling forms of truth."

What do you make of the suggestion that fiction and art are more powerful/dangerous (“beguiling”) than the more straightforward truth claims made by journalists, say, or historians? What account for the power of fiction, which by its very definition, does not claim to be “the truth”?

Chapter One: Learn it or repeat it?

Tiglath-Pileser the III 

In Chapter 1, “Tiglath-Pileser The Third . . .” Campbell expresses his dismay at learning that his guard does not know who Paul Joseph Goebbels is (if you don’t know who he is, click on this link or this one to find out). In the same chapter, Campbell hides his ignorance of the identity of Tiglath-pileser the Third. Both Goebbels and Tiglath-pileser are depicted here as great villains. And you can imagine why someone might think it important to remember their deeds. American philosopher George Santayana (1863-1952) once wrote that "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" (from Life of Reason I).

If you were to make a list of ten historical figures American public school children should learn about, whom would you put on the list and how would you identify the importance of each in a single sentence? What factors shape your choices? How many on the list are villains? How many are Americans? How many are men? How many are women?

The clip below is a trailer for the 2005 documentary The Goebbels Experiment.

Chapter Two: Sonderkommando

Sonderkommando (1948) by David Olere

8. In Chapter 2, “Special Detail . . .,” (7-9) one of Campbell’s guards encourages Campbell to write a about the Sonderkommando, those Auschwitz prisoners who volunteered “to shepherd condemned persons into gas chambers and then lug their bodies out,” (knowing that when the job was done, they too would be killed). Why does the behavior of the Sonderkommando seem so puzzling? What, if anything, does their behavior tell us about human nature? Why might reasonable people disagree about whether or not volunteering for the Sonderkommando was a shameful thing to do?

Chapter Four: Feeling nothing

A soldier's blank stare. Christopher Walken in The Deer Hunter (1982).

In Chapter 4, “Leather Straps,” (15), one of Campbell’s guards tells Campbell that “almost everybody who came through [World War Two]” got so that they “couldn’t feel anything.” (16) What, if anything, does this claim suggest about the nature of war? What, if anything, does this claim suggest about the experience of reading about war or about the experience of seeing scenes depicting war on a video screen? A tangential question: why is “cold-blooded” murder (that is, murder that is executed without feeling) considered to be more morally reprehensible that a “crime of passion”?

Chapter Five: Purgatory anybody?

"Slothful Penitents" (1868)  in Purgatory by Gustave Dore (1823-1883)

In Chapter 5, “Last Full Measure,” Campbell claims that Purgatory is worse than Hell. Why do you think he makes this claim?

To thicken the soup of your thought on this question, you may want to read about the philosophy of absurdism (which my good friends at Wikipedia define as “the conflict between the human tendency to seek inherent meaning in life and the human inability to find any”).

Ever read the play Waiting for Godot (1953) by Samuel Beckett?

Chapter Seven: Why all the violence?

World War One, 1914-1918.

In Chapter 7, “Autobiography,” Campbell reports that his father never tired of looking at a “picture history of the First World War,” which featured “pictures of men hung on barbed wire, mutilated women, bodies stacked like cordwood—all furniture of world wars.” (25-26) This behavior and the morbidity of Campbell’s mother strike him as “queer” (that is, “odd” and inexplicable).

Before we dismiss the Campbells as outliers, consider the various spectacles of violence that people (even you, perhaps?) find entertaining. What, if anything, does this kind of behavior suggest about human nature? What, if anything, does it say about what makes people happy? Or the role governments might play in the regulation of violence?

Chapter Nine, #1: Silence = consent?

In Chapter 9, “Enter My Blue Fairy Godmother . . .,” Campbell reports that since he can’t control the things going on in Germany, “Hitler and the Jews and all that,” (34) as his questioner puts it, he doesn’t think about it. Some might condemn Campbell’s willful ignorance; others might accept it as sensible and healthy, even.

Niemöller on the cover of TIME, December 23, 1940

One person who might have condemned Campbell was German pastor Martin Niemöller, who was in Germany in the years leading up to the War. Niemöller berated German intellectuals (why them especially, do you think?) for not doing enough to stop the Nazi rise to power. As Niemöller famously described his own failings in the years leading up to the war, “First they came for the communists, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a Jew. Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak out for me.”

In light of Vonnegut’s claims about of public action and private belief (“We are who we pretend to be”), Campbell’s inaction (his decision not to think about, much less condemn, the Nazis) is more significant than any private moral judgment about the Nazis that he chose not to make public. If silence is consent, Campbell is not merely an idle bystander; he is complicit in the crimes committed by those he refused to call out.

On the other hand, not worrying about things you can’t control seems like a sensible prescription for mental and emotional health and happiness. So how can we draw the line between the anxiety disorder and moral responsibility? What definition of happiness (and mental health) should govern our analysis of this question?

Chapter Nine, #2: The dangers of empathy

13. In Chapter 9, “Enter My Blue Fairy Godmother . . .,” Campbell reports that he could not claim to hate the Nazis because he “knew them too well as people” (36). Consider this claim in light of your experience reading imaginative literature. Some people say that much of the value of studying literature is that it widens a reader’s circle of empathy. Literature allows a reader to see the world from someone else’s perspective and gain a greater understanding of the emotional world someone else inhabits. It is easy to see why “walking a mile in someone else’s shoes” might be an enlightening vicarious experience, but is there a danger in it as well? Can literature encourage us to sympathize with the wrong people? Does knowing the Nazis “as people” limit our ability to hate them? Does limiting our ability to hate them limit our ability to respond to them appropriately (violently)? Should we ever shun efforts to humanize villains?


Ever see the film Max (2002)?  Some critics complained that it humanizes Hitler . . . 

Chapter Nine, #3: Does motive matter?

George Reeves as Superman.

Later in Chapter 9, Campbell suggests that the best reason to expect him to be a spy is that he is “a ham.” As a ham, he would enjoy the “grand acting” opportunity--a chance to “fool everyone with [his] brilliant interpretation” of a Nazi (39).  This confession suggests that Campbell’s motives for serving his country were impure. He was less interested in performing his patriotic duty than he was in the ego trip it would afford him.

But from a moral perspective, how much should motive matter to us? If a hero runs into a burning house to save a child, do the child’s parents care if she did it because she wanted to become a celebrity? Would we admire Campbell more if he told us his motives were selfless? Or would we doubt his sincerity? Or his self-awareness?

Ever seen the film Hero (1992) directed by Stephen Frears?

Chapter Ten: Cats in Heat?

August 14, 1945 (VJ Day:  Victory in Japan). Photo by Alfred Eisenstaedt.

In Chapter 10, Campbell describes “Das Reich der Zwei, the nation of two my Helga and I had” (42) and compares the intensity of their romantic love for each other to the nationalist zeal so many “patriotic lunatics all around us” felt during the Nazi rise to power in Germany. “We didn’t listen to each other’s words,” he writes, “We heard only the melodies in our voices. The things we listened for carried no more intelligence than purrs and growl of big cats.” (43) We are accustomed to accounts of World War Two that condemn the Germans for their unthinking enthusiasm for the Nazis. But Campbell’s narrative hits closer to home because it suggests that great evil is made possible by young lovers like Campbell and Helga, who take no interest in politics.

Are those who say they are “not interested in politics” responsible at some level for the crimes of the world’s political leaders? Has contemporary Western society made a cult of love that distracts people from more significant political concerns? Does the entertainment media, with its focus on romantic love, encourage us to think like cats in heat (and thus, to extend the metaphor, allow the rats in politics to run wild)?

Chapter Eleven: Love is a drug?

In Chapter 11, “War Surplus,” Campbell characterizes his romantic feelings for Helga as a “narcotic” that “got me through the war” (46-47). By letting his “emotions be stirred by only one thing—my love for Helga,” Campbell was able to avoid “going insane” (47).

In what ways is love (for a lover, a friend, a family member, a child) like a powerful drug that deadens pain, distorts perception, or creates addiction? What reasons might a sensible critic give for justifying Campbell’s choice to focus on his relationship with Helga during time of war?

Chapter Twelve: That's bull

In Chapter 12, “Strange Things in My Mailbox,” Kraft makes a case for the enduring value of art. As a young man, Kraft “held [the arts] in supreme contempt,” but with maturity he came to a different conclusion. “Future civilizations,” he says “…are going to judge all men by the extent to which they’ve become artists. You and I, if some future archaeologist finds our works miraculously preserved in some city dump, will be judged by the quality of our creations. Nothing else about us will matter” (56).

It is not difficult to find cases that support Kraft’s theory. In 1940, four teenagers discovered a cave in Lascaux, France where drawings of bulls and horses have been miraculously preserved. The drawings were 17,000 years old. They are widely admired. This seems to suggest that Kraft was right.

Yet many people look down on the arts (not just painting, but literature, dance, movies, theater) because they are impractical. What purpose do they serve? Why should college students be required to take courses in the humanities which have nothing at all to do with the jobs many will eventually take after graduation? Why should people attribute so much value to the paintings of bulls?

The film below contains footage of the Chauvet cave, which was discovered in 1994.

Chapter 13: Thou Shalt Not Bum Out the Troops

World War II Poster

In Chapter 13, “The Reverend Lionel Jason David Jones, D. D. S., D. D. . . .,” Campbell reports that Dr. Jones was convicted of “Conspiring to destroy the morale and faith of the members of the military and naval forces of the United States and the people of the United States in their public officials and republican form of government” (68).

Isn’t this just another way of saying Jones was bumming out the soldiers? Should this be considered a crime? Doesn’t the U. S. Constitution give men like Dr. Jones the right to say things that might depress people? Even soldiers? 

Read the rest of the charges leveled against him on page 68. How many of them do you think are punishable crimes?

Under what conditions can a speech act be considered criminal?

Chapter 16, #1: Road to Happiness: Paved With Cruelty?

"First Stage of Cruelty" (1751)  by William Hogarth (1697-1764)

In Chapter 16, we are told that during the war Helga “was captured and raped in the Crimea” (80). Later, “She was shipped to the Ukraine by boxcar” and “was put to work in a labor gang.” Human history is packed with similar stories of violence. Any investigation of what it means to be human should probably offer an account of the prevalence of such stories in the human experience. Presumably, some humans believe the road to happiness involves raping others, treating them like commodities, and enslaving them. Can we simply dismiss these behaviors as anomalous? Or does their commonality tell us something important about what it means to be human?

Chapter 16, #2: Patriotism Flavors

The Bellamy Salute

In Chapter 16, Campbell reports that he demonstrated for Kraft “the meaning of patriotism to, respectively, a Nazi, a Communist, and an American” (81).

How do you think he might have illustrated the similarities and differences between each?

How might such an illustration be instructive?

Chapter Eighteen: You Propagandize, I Spread Truth

What is Propaganda?

In Chapter 18, “Werner Noth’s Beautiful Blue Vase,” Noth, a believing Nazi, tells Campbell he gave up caring whether Campbell was a spy or not when he became convinced that Campbell had done more to help Nazis through the persuasive speeches he made on the radio (“You alone kept me from concluding that Germany had gone insane”) than he could have damaged them by providing secret intelligence to the allies (99).

Why might an educated person make the case that in war time effective propaganda is as important as or more important than access to battlefield strategies and tactics?

For most people today, the word “propaganda” has negative connotations; it is a term typically used to describe the speech acts of people we disagree with or are suspicious of.  How can you identify propaganda when you see or hear it? What do we call speech acts that are designed to persuade people of views we support?

What did U.S. propaganda look like during World War II? See anything wrong with this 1943 short animated film: Education for Death, produced by Walt Disney?

Chapter Twenty-Three: Pixies and Patriots

"Frances and the Fairies" (1917) taken by Elsie Wright

In Chapter 23, “Chapter Six Hundred and Forty-Three . . .,” Campbell claims that loving a country is silly, as silly as hating it. “It’s impossible for me to get emotional about it,” he reports, “because real estate doesn’t interest me” (133). As Campbell sees it, the “imaginary lines” that separate countries from each other are “as unreal to me as elves and pixies.”

He suggests that this may be “a great flaw” in his personality. Why might an educated person say that a lack of emotional connection to a country is a personality flaw? Why, on the other hand, might an educated person argue that it silly to love or to hate a country?

For more on those who believe in pixies (including Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of Sherlock Holmes), check out this video:

Chapter Twenty-Five: Absolutely!

In Chapter 25, “The Answer to Communism,” a “barfly” describes the “Moral Rearmamament movement” which “believes in absolute honesty, absolute purity, absolute unselfishness, and absolute love” (141). Why might Vonnegut have included this minor character in the novel? What attitude does Mother Night encourage readers to take toward this alignment of beliefs? How might an articulate supporter of the Moral Rearmament movement criticize Mother Night?

In a Moral Re-Armament play, Marion Clayton Anderson plays Miss Trust, whispering doubts and seeds of dissension into the ears of labor leaders played by Vic Kitchen (on the left) and Norman Schwab.

The Moral Re-Armament movement produced "Up with People;" a movement that is depicted in the 2009 documentary Smile 'Til it Hurts (see trailer below):

Chapter 27: What's Szombathy doing in there?

Chapter 27, “Finders Keepers,” offers a brief account of the life of Lazlo Szombathy, a character who is not integral to the plot. What does the inclusion of this chapter say about the worldview endorsed by Mother Night?

"The Fight Between Carnival and Lent" (1559) by Pieter Bruegel (1525-1569).

Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Soldier's Soul

Offensive caricature says more about soul of artist?

In Chapter 28, “Target,” Campbell describes a caricature of a Jew which he recommended that Nazi soldiers use for target practice. “The amateurishness of [the caricature] made it look like something drawn on the wall of a public lavatory;” he claims, “it recalled the stink, diseased twilight, humid resonance, and vile privacy of a stall in a public lavatory—echoed the soul’s condition in a man at war” (154-155).

What might an educated reader challenge this characterization of the soul of a man at war? Is this true of the souls of most men at war? In order to conduct war, is it necessary to depersonalize the enemy, to see them as stereotypes or caricatures, as vermin or as pure evil?

Chapter Twenty-Nine, #1: What's a Brain for?

In Chapter 29, “Adolf Eichmann and Me . . .,” Campbell argues that people believed the ludicrous claims he made on the radio because they were “so reluctant to laugh, so incapable of thought, so eager to believe and snarl and hate” (160). It was “unquestioning faith” that made them surrender their capacity to think, he says, and he characterizes their decision to believe without engaging their intellect as “terrifying and absolutely vile.” Many people celebrate the steadfastness of those who have “faith in things unseen.”

Can people rely on their intellect to provide them with a foundation for all their beliefs? Should they try? What role should learning play in the creation of our belief systems? Are the beliefs of educated people to be more trusted than those of uneducated people?

The trailer below is for the 2007 film Eichmann.

Chapter 29, #2: Did I Just Pass a Kidney Stone?

In Chapter 29, Campbell says of himself: “I always know when I tell a lie, am capable of imagining the cruel consequences of anybody’s believing my lies, know cruelty is wrong. I could no more lie without noticing it than I could unknowingly pass a kidney stone” (166).

Can you imagine a scenario in which a mentally healthy person might tell a lie (not just report misinformation) and not realize it?

Chapter Twenty-Nine, #3: Thou Shalt Not Laugh at That

Colonel Klink

In Chapter 29, Campbell associates his sense of morality with his sense of humor, when comparing himself to the Nazi criminal Adolf Eichmann. “The only advantage to me of knowing the difference between right and wrong, as nearly as I can tell,” he writes, “is that I can sometimes laugh when the Eichmanns can see nothing funny” (166). One page later, Eichmann makes a joke about the six million who died in the Holocaust.

Given Campbell’s comment about his ability to laugh when the Eichmanns can see nothing funny, what does Eichmann’s joke say about the relationship between moral sensibility and comic sensibility?