Inspired by Alex Ebert
The reductionist shift of a classic philosophical quest.
During “The Net (5),” Alex Ebert made an interesting point on how today people just seem interested in “the gist of things,” not the details, particularities, or idiocrasies. He made the example of people watching classical movies on super high-definition settings, and as a result Indiana Jones looked blocky, like a jittery clay-figuring, and yet the people watching the movie didn’t seem to know any better or care. They could “get the gist of the matter” — they knew where the characters were and what they were doing; they could follow the plot; they could hear the dialogue — what more did they need? This observation made me think about a lot of “meme culture,” which involve very simple graphics, often from old cartoons or even programs out of the 70s, and the graphic design is crude, simplistic, and unprofessional. And yet that lack of art is precisely part of what makes a meme a meme. Also, I find it fascinating that many of the most popular games are cellphone games with very simple graphics, reminiscent of the Super Nintendo of the early 90s. People could play games on a PlayStation 4, and yet they often prefer more “bare bones” experiences — why? Is it just because cellphone games are mobile? That’s certainly part of it, and I also think people like their imaginations to be active when they play games, and when the graphics are too good, there isn’t as much room for imagination. But I also wonder if Ebert’s observation isn’t also part of the equation.
Mr. Ebert referred to people “just wanting the blueprints of things,” which made me think about how people in the past, say in philosophy and theology, sought “the essence” of entities, which seemed to have parallels here, yet also differences. Classically, an “essence” was the unifying and sustaining principle “behind” the disparate and distinct parts of an entity. For example, brown fur, a tail, organs, and the like are all “parts of a squirrel,” but none of them are a squirrel, and yet somehow “something” keeps these parts together in and as “a unified thing” called “a squirrel.” This can be called “the essence, and whether we today believe this investigation is valid or misguided from the start, the point is that there is a history of people asking about and seeking “the unifying principle” of things. Considering Ebert’s observation, it is tempting to say this hunger is making a comeback, but I think there are important differences.
Here, I will make a distinction between “essence” and “blueprint,” and suggest that while an “essence” sustains different parts “as a whole” (please note that elsewhere I challenge the very division between “parts and wholes”), a “blueprint” outlines parts. “Essence” is gone if there are no parts and is threatened if particularities are reduced, while “blueprints” arise precisely because parts are “erased away” until only the most barebone semblance of them remains. Yes, it might seem like “getting to the essence of something” is an act of reduction and erasure, and certainly this is true if by “essence” one means “gist,” but classically this is not the same. Rather, it is precisely “in the fullness of parts” that essence is expressed, exhibited, and made meaningful, and in fact “the essence of a blueprint of a squirrel” is not the same as “the essence of a squirrel.” To make a thing into its blueprint is to change what it is, thus changing its essence, which means we cannot reduce or sacrifice parts without also risking the thing.
“Blueprints,” however, are the two-dimensional designs out of which a house is constructed. Even if there is no house, I can still have blueprints which I can look at, read, and study. I don’t actually need the house to own the plans, and how I understand Mr. Ebert’s point is that people today “just want the blueprints” versus the actual home. Now, obviously, this won’t work in all areas, for I literally can’t sleep and eat inside a blueprint, but when it comes to information, art, shows, or the like, I can easily “swap in” a blueprint for the full experience and “get by.” Except regarding subjects and entities in which I literally cannot use them if they are just blueprints, there seems to be a movement in favor of “the bare bones,” and it also seems as if people think this is “getting the essence of something.” But “blueprint” and “essence” are not identical: one is a reductionist outline, while the other is akin to the conductor of a symphony. Essences conduct things in their fullness, while blueprints are two-dimensional models.
To put this another way, if I have the essence of a squirrel, then classically a whole squirrel will arise out of it, which is to say that a full being “naturally unfolds” from out of an essence. This is a simplistic way to put it, yes, but the point is that essences “unfold into full things,” while blueprints don’t necessarily “unfold” at all. A blueprint “is” itself, a sketch. I don’t have to construct angles, and there is nothing “in” a sketch that necessarily becomes a structure. It is not necessarily compelled by “a nature” to become anything at all. It is finished.
Now, please do not mistake me as defending “the metaphysical quest for essences” — that is an entirely different topic for a different time — my point is that Mr. Ebert has made an interesting observation regarding how it seems a new “quest” has arisen today that is “like” the hunt for essences, but one that is not identical and more reductionist. It seems like people are “trying to get to the heart of things” by removing the body into which the heart pumps blood, which perhaps is a valid undertaking sometimes, but I also think it is important to realize that “getting to the heart of things by removing the heart from the body” is not the same as trying to determine and posit the existence of a heart while it remains in the body. To seek essence is to try to determine what makes a body operate while respecting and honoring the body, which is to say without removing it, while “seeking a blueprint” seems to discard the body aside, because all we need is “the heart” anyway, right?” On this point, I think we can glimpse some risks.
A heart with a body is not the same as a heart without a body, and if we don’t honor the body, we risk losing “something.” It’s not always easy to say what that “something” is, for regarding a body we lose “a person” which isn’t easy to find in biology (it’s not easy to find “mind in brain,” per se). If we removed a heart out of a body, we’d know well enough that we lost something (we’d see the loss of the person clear enough), but when it comes to doing something similar to art, music, architecture, and the like, we could similarly lose something deep and profound and not have the eyes to see the loss. Sure, removing a heart from a body causes a loss of life that we cannot miss, but we could easily miss “the loss of creation” that we cause when we seek “a blueprint” versus “an essence.” Worse yet, we might not even have enough of a reference point to realize we’ve lost something (“totally depraved,” as discussed in Christianity).
I am always grateful for the insights and observations of Mr. Ebert, and I think he is right that people seek “blueprints” today as if such is finding “essence.” If there is today a hunger for us to “be raw,” it’s important we know what kind of “rawness” we pursue (a similar logic applies to “seeking objectivity”), and if we are not aware of the distinction between “blueprint” and “essence,” we might start removing “hearts from bodies” to “get to the heart of the matter,” when this very act can make there be nothing there to “matter” at all.
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