ANOTHER FORUM-DERIVED ANSWER WITHOUT THE QUESTION

 Back to my debates with online materialists, one of whom tried to counter my position with the idea of "atheists who still believe in things supernatural, just not gods."

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If you choose to search this forum for the word "psychic" you will see that I've noted, possibly a half dozen times, that belief in psychic forces does not presuppose belief in gods.

That, however, does not mean that the former belief was not influenced by the growth of materialist interpretations of the universe. 

On this page I responded to (name withheld) as to previous posts in which I asserted the possibility that gods were not necessarily purely imaginary, but may rather have been inchoate forces molded by human imagination into culture-specific icons. This theory is not one in which I "believe," but is rather an agnostic counter to the materialist belief that all gods must be purely imaginary.

But this informal postulate, which I did not originate, was also influenced by mainstream materialism, albeit without being in any way identical with mainstream materialism. This "spiritual materialism" is what is represented by your non-mainstream atheists who assert that supernatural forces are generated by humans and disembodied principles rather than by gods.

I've said repeatedly that theism and atheism grow out of intellectual discourse. Theism is almost certainly first. It's possible that early man did sense what the Polynesians called "mana" in both living and unliving phenomena, but such inchoate forces lack any power to personify the mysteries of the universe for human meditation. Thus we get the articulation of "departmental gods" who administer different aspects of reality, whether physical phenomena like storms or social phenomena like war. Possibly in their earliest forms one would not even call such figures "gods," but something more like the millions-of-years-later Japanese concept of kami.

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This informal postulate, though, does not assume that even if this is the way belief in gods evolved, that tribal peoples were conscious of such formulations. They would not have been able to stand back from their own assumptions, just like modern materialists. Therefore it's probable that most tribal humans really did believe that gods had existence independent of human interaction. Naturally any given tribe would have become aware at an early date that the neighboring tribe might have different gods, but this would not have led to the assumption that all gods were imaginary in nature. Rather, it probably led to henotheism, the idea that rival gods exist in the common universe but that the god of one's own tribe is the biggest and the best. This form of theism appears in a few Old Testament passages in which it's implied that the Hebrew God does share his celestial space with rival gods, rather than being the only one.

Eventually we do see the historical development of actual atheism, the spawn of intellectual discourse that I've fruitlessly tried to explain to my opponents. It might have appeared earlier than the documents of the Greeks, but that's our main source for the history of that philosophy. One assumes that theists pushed back against the atheists, as attested by Socrates and his deadly cup, but theists were not the only opponents of atheists. 

It were better, indeed, to accept the legends of the gods than to bow beneath that yoke of destiny which the natural philosophers have imposed.-- Epicurus, Letter to Menoeceus.

We have only sketchy documents of what figures like Epicurus and Lucretius believed, but I think it likely that they are among our first "spiritual materialists." Lucretius believes in the gods as principles more than as departmental chiefs, and while he's not agreeing with "natural philosophers" who believed that Greek science explained everything, he's been influenced by them.

So when we come down at last to modern spiritual materialists, we are dealing with individuals like Lucretius, who have some notion that supernatural forces exist but do not conceive of gods in the sense of mainstream theism. Moderns who attest to supernatural force residing in their chakras, but not in the universe as literal gods, have been influenced by mainstream materialism; in a "man is the measure of all things" formula. By taking this human-centered form of supernatural belief, the supernatural materialists are still subscribing to one doctrine taken from mainstream materialists: that gods are not necessary to explain the functioning of the universe. And thus the discourse of the supernatural materialists remains influenced by atheist discourse, accepting that at least some phenomena are entirely explained by material evidence, including the chakras, which may have also started from theistic belief but grew independent of it thanks to the influence of mainstream materialist discourse.

CLINAMEN BEGIN AGAIN

While Lucretius is fresh in my mind, I'll make a few observations regarding his Epicurus-derived doctrine of the *clinamen,* sometimes referred to as the "Epicurean swerve."  Rather than quoting from Lucretius' verse, which may prove difficult to follow in the course of an essay, I'll quote this prose-ified version from the Wikipedia essay "Free Will in Antiquity:"

Again, if all motion is always one long chain, and new motion arises out of the old in order invariable, and if the first-beginnings do not make by swerving a beginning of motion such as to break the decrees of fate, that cause may not follow cause from infinity, whence comes this freedom (libera) in living creatures all over the earth, whence I say is this will (voluntas) wrested from the fates by which we proceed whither pleasure leads each, swerving also our motions not at fixed times and fixed places, but just where our mind has taken us? For undoubtedly it is his own will in each that begins these things, and from the will movements go rippling through the limbs.

The essay quotes numerous modern commentators regarding the fact that both Lucretius and his philosophical mentor Epicurus refuted Democritus' idea that the doctrine of atomism implied absolute determinism. Particularly puzzling to modern minds is the idea that the ultimate source of "voluntas," Lucretius' word for free will, is to be located in the movements of infinitesimal atoms. Both men, in trying to explain what physical forces caused atoms to combine with one another, spoke of a "swerve" (Latin clinamen) that had to take place for such combinatory action.

I'm not enough of a classicist to judge the complexities of archaic Greco-Roman culture; I can only say that of the comments cited in the Wikipedia essay, those of Don Paul Fowler seem most accurate in representing the way philosophers of this period framed their conceptual conundrums.

Lucretius is arguing from the existence of voluntas to the existence of the clinamen; nothing comes to be out of nothing, therefore voluntas must have a cause at the atomic level, viz. the clinamen. The most natural interpretation of this is that every act of voluntasis caused by a swerve in the atoms of the animal's mind....There is a close causal, physical relationship between the macroscopic and the atomic. 

I don't believe any reputable philosopher today would subscribe to the idea that non-sentient atoms can display "will" of any kind. However, the Epicurean swerve may still be a useful metaphor for the nature of human agency, and it does resemble one of the models constructed by theoretical biologist Stuart A. Kauffman. I examined Kauffman's concept of "quantum coherence" in my essay LET FREEDOM RIDE PT. 1: 

There is a possible objection to Kauffman's philosophy.  In REINVENTING THE SACRED he does not manage to show in what way his principal of "quantum coherence"-- proposed as a principle that may have contributed to the formation of the "open thermodynamic systems" of living organisms -- makes the subject's will an "uncaused mental cause."  In the view of most reductivists, if quantum-energy factors did influence the formation of life on our planet, those factors would just be another set of contingent influences, as much as the sun's radiation or the presence of oxygen. Kauffman repeatedly explains his title by saying that humans do not need supernatural forces to explain life any more, but that humans should regard their own "agency" as sacred.

Kauffman's insistence on validating the "sacred" human world of culture strongly resembles the attitude of the Epicureans, though he doesn't cite any of them in REINVENTING THE SACRED. Persons of a reductive viewpoint will of course dismiss "quantum coherence" as quickly as they will dismiss the "Epicurean swerve," but as I've stated many times on this blog, I don't believe philosophy should be determined by the data of experimental science. Metaphors for the way the human mind works-- or even discrete parts of the mind, such as "the heart" or "the imagination"-- will always be not only necessary, but entirely preferable to reams of dubious data.

In closing I'll note that because Lucretius shares the Epicurean belief that "nothing can come from nothing," he takes a rather "atomistic" approach to the human imagination as well. He asserts that although there is no hell, humans have extrapolated their experiences of earthly pain into the torments of Avernus. Similarly, though centaurs and "the spectres of people who are dead" have never existed, these are imaginary composites formed from humans' tendencies to combine the forms of nature, be it hybridizing humans and horses to produce centaurs, or simply imagining formerly-living people taking on a quasi-physical existence in the form of ghosts. I gave some thought to the possibility that I might view Lucretius as early advocate of that form of sublimity I've named the "combinatory-sublime."  But though Lucretius may be writing about roughly the same creative process that Tolkien described as a "refracted light" that is "endlessly combined in many shapes that move from mind to mind," Lucretius doesn't share Tolkien's fascination with the process. Lucretius is a poet in the tradition described by Chesterton: "one who is in love with the finite." ON NATURE is full of colorful descriptions of erupting volcanos and burgeoning fields of grain, but all of these images are for Lucretius mere evidence of the world's conformity to physical law. For Burke and Kant, a volcano might be something that evoked in human beings the feeling of the sublime-- but I suspect such a volcanic emotion would have run contrary to the equanimity endorsed by Lucretius and his fellow Epicureans. 

MYTHS TO THRIVE BY

It were better, indeed, to accept the legends of the gods than to bow beneath that yoke of destiny which the natural philosophers have imposed.-- Epicurus, Letter to Menoeceus.

Now that I've launched my current project to suss out "1001 myths" from the millions of comics I've read, I may as well talk a little about the value I place upon such a project.

In THE MIGHTY MARVEL COLLECTIVE SUBCONSCIOUS, I wrote:

One of Northrop Frye's most trenchant observations on popular literature was that it provided a "window" through which one could view Jung's archetypes in pure form, as opposed to seeing those archetypes reflected covertly in the scenarios of fine literature. In this "pure" archetypal sense (one might also say "primitive"), Marvel comics of this period were no better or worse than the contemporary works of DC, Dell or Charlton. But Marvel found a way to persuade older readers that there was some dramatic heft to be derived from stories of spider-men, thunder gods, and giant green-skinned monsters.  

From the standpoint of the mythopoeic imagination, Fox and Sekowsky's JUSTICE LEAGUE OF AMERICA might actually reflect just as many "archetypes in pure form" as Lee and Kirby's FANTASTIC FOUR. However, FANTASTIC FOUR was easily the superior of JLA in regard to the dramatic potentiality, and so older readers could enjoy Marvel Comics' "gods" far more than DC's, by virtue of the slightly greater sophistication Marvel brought to its myth-figures.

One reading of this historical situation might be that, for many if not the majority of readers, the archetypes alone are not enough: that they must be presented in a way that the audience-members find pleasing. With that in mind, one might ask what value there is in the project of trying to suss out the symbolic discourses of individual comics-stories, and trying to separate the elements of the mythopoeic out from the elements that I would file under "other potentialities." I believe that these symbolic discourses are crucial in understanding why anyone finds entertainment in stories of bizarre metaphenomenal entities like monsters and thunder gods. At the same time, I have no illusions that the average hardcore fan of any metaphenomenal collections of works-- be they in a particular genre, like horror, or in discrete media, like films or comic books-- is a myth-hound like myself.  If I were a populist-- that is, someone who validates only that which is popular-- then I would have to concede that myth-criticism cannot be important, because it has not been, and may never be, generally popular.  Fortunately, I'm a pluralist, which means that I can value all elements of a given work, regardless of whether one element may be more popular than the other.

And that's where Epicurus comes in.

I read the extant works of Epicurus a few years ago. Although "Epicurean," the word derived from the philosopher's name, has been unfairly linked with the idea of hedonism, Epicurus and his followers stressed not heedless pleasure for its own sake, but the cultivation of a philosophical equanimity that would make one capable of enjoying life without becoming enmeshed in the desperate pursuit of pleasure for its own sake.  More recently, the Greek philosopher was brought back to my mind when I finally read ON THE NATURE OF THINGS, the definitive work of Epicurus' foremost Roman disciple, the poet Lucretius.  Lucretius, like his master, was heavily influenced by the materalistic atomism of Democritus. However, neither Epicurus nor Lucretius can be considered as thoroughgoing materialists. Both abjured the idea that the gods controlled mankind, or that human spirits survived death to face either reward or punishment. Yet as the beginning quote shows, Epicurus believed that "the legends of the gods," for all their absurdities, were preferable to the "yoke of destiny," the doleful determinism, represented by the advocates of pure materialism.
In Book V of ON THE NATURE OF THINGS, Lucretius asks how it has come to pass that mankind has become so invested in the "legends of the gods." Rather than taking the standard dismissal of the materialists, Lucretius says:

And now what causeHath spread divinities of gods abroadThrough mighty nations, and filled the cities fullOf the high altars, and led to practicesOf solemn rites in season- rites which stillFlourish in midst of great affairs of stateAnd midst great centres of man's civic life,The rites whence still a poor mortalityIs grafted that quaking awe which rears aloftStill the new temples of gods from land to landAnd drives mankind to visit them in throngsOn holy days- 'tis not so hard to giveReason thereof in speech. Because, in sooth,Even in those days would the race of manBe seeing excelling visages of godsWith mind awake; and in his sleeps, yet more-Bodies of wondrous growth. And, thus, to theseWould men attribute sense, because they seemedTo move their limbs and speak pronouncements high,Befitting glorious visage and vast powers.And men would give them an eternal life,Because their visages forevermoreWere there before them, and their shapes remained,And chiefly, however, because men would not thinkBeings augmented with such mighty powersCould well by any force o'ermastered be.And men would think them in their happinessExcelling far, because the fear of deathVexed no one of them at all, and sinceAt same time in men's sleeps men saw them doSo many wonders, and yet feel therefromThemselves no weariness. Besides, men markedHow in a fixed order rolled aroundThe systems of the sky, and changed timesOf annual seasons, nor were able thenTo know thereof the causes. Therefore 'twasMen would take refuge in consigning allUnto divinities, and in feigning allWas guided by their nod. And in the skyThey set the seats and vaults of gods, becauseAcross the sky night and the moon are seenTo roll along- moon, day, and night, and night'sOld awesome constellations evermore,And the night-wandering fireballs of the sky,And flying flames, clouds, and the sun, the rains,Snow and the winds, the lightnings, and the hail,And the swift rumblings, and the hollow roarOf mighty menacings forevermore.-- tr. William Ellery Leonard, 1916.

So Lucretius is saying that the gods, even though they were above humanity and did nothing to overtly affect humanity, did appear to human beings in their dreams-- and from humankind's misunderstanding of the gods' nature, superstition arose.

The obvious question arises: why did Lucretius want to keep the gods as part of his philosophical system, while he dismissed superstitions about the afterlife-- particularly the punishing domain of "Avernus"--as nonsense created by priests to manipulate mankind? In modern Jungian terms, one might venture that Lucretius wants to keep the positive image of the gods as dispassionate beings, because their image of serenity mirrors the goal of the Epicurean philosopher. Lucretius does not suggest that mortals can imitate the powers of the gods, for the gods enjoy a state of perfection beyond the mortal realm-- but he believes that the gods' equanimity is a quality mortals should emulate. And though the Roman poet does not examine the beliefs of the materialists in detail, it seems likely that he would share Epicurus' opinion that those beliefs-- which would define all human action as being determined by contingency-- are inimical to the Epicurean project, to promote pleasurable equanimity. The materialists, being invested in pure contingency, can offer mankind no particular model of behavior to follow. The images of the gods, however much they've been polluted by superstitions, do offer such a model.

In modern Jungian terms, the gods represent for both Epicurus and Lucretius archetypes of a desired form of behavior. A Jungian, of course, would reject these philosophers' attempts to dismiss images of darkness or ugliness as unimportant, and so do I: the "shadows" of darkness and evil informs what we are and what we do as much as the dispassionate potency of deities.

Both philosophers practice a very simple form of myth-analysis, usually seeking to reduce myths of satyrs and "scyllas" into morbid imagination. But by their adulation of the gods, they recognize that humans gravitate toward models of behavior, even when there may be no actual interaction between themselves and those ephemeral models.

It should be plain that for me, the Epicurean gods hold much the same place as the archetypal figures of fiction. No matter what forms of drama appear in our lives, our lives will never be dramatic in the same *structured* manner as are the lives of fictional characters-- and this is true whether one is speaking of Raskolnikov or Superman. But the dramatic potentiality can only give a sense of verisimilitude to those characters. For a sense of the characters' essential meaning-- one must turn to the potentiality I call *mythopoeic.*

And that, if it clarifies nothing else, may at least describe why I have devoted myself to the project of sniffing out myths wherever I can find them-- even despite all the critics who would like to think nothing matters except their ability to "model behavior" of a narrow and ideological nature.