do you feel sorry for chickens?

Here's the problem.  I'll  paraphrase the lead to make clear the proposition defined by William James (1842-1910) 

[If we were offered]   "a world in which millions were kept permanently happy on the one simple condition that a certain lost soul on the far-off edge of things should lead a life of lonely torture, what except a sceptical and independent sort of emotion can it be which would make us immediately feel, even though an impulse arose within us to clutch at the happiness so offered, how hideous a thing would be its enjoyment when deliberately accepted as the fruit of such a bargain?"    William James:  The Moral Philosopher and the Moral Life.

Do most of you know this story?  The bargain James describes  is essentially the 'plot' of a story by Ursula K. Leguin, "The Ones Who Walked Away From Omelas" (1973). Omelas is Eden, utopia, an ideally peaceful place where the citizens are happy and apparently need no laws or governance to keep them so.  Their well-being, it turns out, is dependent on the incarceration, subjugation, wretched condition and all-round misery of a child deprived of a decent life for the sake of the others.  The people accept this or else - a few of them - walk away from Omelas.

William James offers help.  The American psychologist who many regard as the leading American philosopher of the 19th century, said you should essentially choose how you feel, how you react to the circumstances of your life. "The greatest weapon against stress," he said, "is our ability to choose one thought over another."  It's also what enables you to walk past a hungry beggar on the street.

I try not to think too much, especially when I'm eating chicken.  I used to believe that penguins lead a pretty dreary life until I read about the chicken industry.  The treatment of chickens is (almost) enough to turn me into a vegetarian. I'm getting closer all the time. 

catchup

It's not that I'm reading slowly these days but I'm reading THICK books, some of them. I have to read them at the breakfast table because they're too big to hold in my hands. Here's a big one:

Steven Pinker's Enlightenment Now: The Case for Reason, Science, Hmanism, and Progress.  I like his books, I've read seven of them, and specially like the ones on language, writing and thinking, and, of course, The  Better Angels of Our Nature is a feel-good book with convincing  (comforting) stats to reassure us that the world is getting better (taking a looong view).  Enlightenment Now continues in the same vein but it's a bit too graph-happy for me, in the first chapters. Now the thick successor that has taken its place at the table, is Yuval Noah Harari's  Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow.  Haven't finished it yet; I'm a few pages from the end of chapter two. The first chapter was very long - 78 pages. Titled "The New  Human Agenda"  It felt like another chapter of Pinker's books, but it's not continuing that way.  TBC

I finished Douglas Coupland's Bit Rot (1916).  I left off a while back, and just got back to it. Coupland is a very stimulating writer. I mean, he stimulates a lot of thoughts and responses in me.  Way back (1991), his first novel, Generation X,  triggered a play in me.  The book I bought had very wide margins, inviting rebuttal.  My marginalia turned into a play (Moon and Murna, in Alumnae Theatre's Festivsl of New Idea, 2004).  Bit Rot is related to Gen X. I have to think (write) some more. Fun.

i've begun to pedal again, in the building gym, and therefore reading mysteries/thrillers - whatever they're called.  I don't like violent ones. I read Broken Harbour by Tana French; it was too thick, too many pages, too verbose, so I'm back with Ian Rankin. When John Rebus first emerged in Knots and Crosses (1987) I read everything as fast as Rankin could write. I took him on a plane to Scotland and bought two more new ones in Glasgow for my trip home. I was visiting relatives (my husband's family) and they were helpful with some of Rankin's Scottish vocabulary. I remember haar - to do with weather, foggy, I think...Yes

haar noun: a cold sea fog on the east coast of England or Scotland.  ORIGIN late 17th cent.: perhaps from Old Norse hárr ‘hoar, hoary’.  

More to come....