A TV series is about emotion, pulling us into dilemmas and relationships that keep us guessing, speculating, and wanting more. The best ones show us something new and unexpected, exploring situations we hadn’t considered. In that sense, Breaking Bad, as a multi-layered, expectation-defying narrative, achieved exactly what it set out to do. — Tom Storm

The idea for this post arose from a conversation about a local TV series centered around the justice system: it meticulously depicts abuses of power by law enforcement officers, a judge masturbating under his robes, and bribes, bribes, bribes.

Of course, in the end, as the genre dictates, justice is restored, but again, it's not because of the officials' vices, but simply because of accidents or technical errors.

And I'm talking about a disconnect here. A kind of cultural fracture: you won't be punished for your vices, but for an accident you miscalculated. So, it doesn't matter how bad you are; what matters is how sensible and prudent you are.

And the second point. This series (produced by order of the government) also carries a hidden message: "This is how it is here, be prepared, know that this is how it is here." This seems to remove any questions or demands on the authorities, as represented by the average person. You may disagree, but you know what you're dealing with.

Many countries around the world ban smoking in films and on TV. By anyone, whether villains or heroes. Frankly, I approve of this. Although it is censorship. After all, by simply showing the undesirable behavior itself, you're essentially saying, "What's the big deal? Everyone does it."

Breaking Bad ended 12 years ago. Will we be learning that someone is appalled by The Sopranos next (it ended in 2007)?

The anti-hero has been a fixture in "modern cinema" for decades. A fixture in literature far longer. It's difficult to take such "what's wrong with people these days?" complaints seriously. — Ciceronianus

As you may have read, this example is given as a vivid illustration. The topic I touched on concerns not the series but a cultural phenomenon.

I think your thesis is generally correct. I don't know Breaking Bad, but another example commonly given is the way that the Batman nemesis Joker has now become his own offering, with standalone Joker characters and films that have no relation to Batman. Tolkien writes well about the phenomenon. I may try to dig up some quotes. — Leontiskos

Yes. I wanted to mention Joker, too. It's truly a phenomenon. Just like "Perfume."

For me, the earliest such example was Nabokov with "Lolita." There you have it, page after page of aestheticization of pedophilia. A striking example of how, using literary talent, you can vividly and thoroughly describe the feelings of sick people. I didn't finish reading it at the time because I couldn't take it anymore after page 10.

But what a storm of emotion and criticism this work provoked at the time! If the author's goal was to make a name for himself, he achieved it.

I would suggest that a move away from the strict rules of separation of heroes and villains, white hats and black hats, cowboys and Indians, is long overdue. — unenlightened

I agree with this, just as I agree that this isn't exactly news.

For example, in another well-known series, "Game of Thrones," each character does something morally reprehensible (at least according to our understanding of medieval and even modern morality). And for modern cinema, this is something of a quality mark. On the surface, this adds realism. The creators tell us, "You can't be a saint, we're all sinners," "the world is a complicated place," "not everything is so clear-cut." It looks cool.

But that's just on the surface. At its core, every such creation contains a metanarrative: "no one is responsible for evil deeds," "there is no justice," "you can do whatever you want, as long as you're careful."

Sin, bad deeds, immoral behavior seem to become the norm. There's no punishment, and if there is, it's later.

Here on the forum, topics about morality, ethics, and morality are very popular, focusing mainly on classic trolley problems and the like (I think everyone is familiar with these themes). But I'd like to talk about something else. After watching such films or TV series, it feels like morality has been completely sidelined in decision-making today.

That is, when solving a hypothetical trolley problem, a modern person doesn't ask themselves, "What should I do?" but rather, "Who witnessed my actions?", "Can I justify this action to the people I care about?", "Do I even have to justify myself to anyone?", "Which decision will be most beneficial to me, and not to someone else?"

That's where I see the problem. That's what I'd like to discuss.

The MC is conspicuously named Walter White, and considering this is an American series I'm sure there's a clumsy attempt at societal commentary in here somewhere that we're missing. — Tzeentch

I'm really curious if this was the creators' intention. Can you elaborate on your idea?

I asked this because I face this question daily, even in my everyday life. The point is that any assessment of a system you find yourself in from the inside is very difficult. I even have a rule – not to provide legal services to my relatives (even though I'm a lawyer myself). Why? Because it's incredibly difficult to distance yourself from your own reflections on a legal issue when it affects your own life. With ordinary clients, it's easier – you can simply be honest, presenting the picture as objectively as possible, and then leave the solution to them. I think I'm not alone in facing this problem.

Returning to the topic of the thread. For example, when we find ourselves in state X, is it possible to challenge its dominant approach to understanding reality, while essentially being an element of that state X? As you indicated above, it's possible (using the method of comparison with other states or history), but is it possible to purely compare, and are you capable of immersing yourself in a different paradigm just as purely?

This is the classic paradox of Crete in epistemology: "All Cretans are liars," said the Cretan. "Paradigm P is true and final," says the person fully formed by paradigm P. Any attempt to go beyond it will be perceived by system P as heresy, madness, or "you just haven't fully understood P."

"Belief is a fictitious category." I'm intrigued by how your proof will look. I hope there's a flaw in your perfect syllogism that can be criticized, otherwise I'll have to stop feeling anything for my wife, my family, my community, and God.

I'm interested in your topic.
Essentially, the discussion revolves around the opposition between "I believe" and "I think"—and, importantly, the unspoken priority of analyticity over the sensory. Logic is placed above the irrational, the rational above the intuitive. I'd like to contribute by adding an aesthetic and epistemological layer to the discussion—through Alexander Baumgarten. In Baumgarten's time (the 18th century), the assertion "rational = good, sensory = nonsense" was not yet self-evident. On the contrary, he demonstrated that logical representation is formal perfection, but it is achieved at the cost of a loss of completeness. Sensory, "obscure" knowledge is the foundation of everything. It grasps the object in its entirety, immediately, in its concreteness and complexity.
Logical knowledge, on the other hand, is an extension, an abstraction, a rationalization, which impoverishes the original richness.

The more obscure the representation, the more complex, complete, and richer its attributes. The clearer it is, the poorer, but more structured it is.

For example: When we first meet a person, we grasp them sensorily—a general impression, a "feeling." We can only recall their eye color or height.
With each new encounter, we rationalize more: their character, habits, voice, facial expressions. But the initial, irrational feeling doesn't disappear. It is enriched, becomes deeper, more precise.
It is not replaced by logic—it feeds it.
This is the binary opposition: "holism" (sensory, holistic, primary) versus "analyticism" (logical, dissected, secondary).

Evaluating a statement using rationalism as the highest and only value is too impoverished an approach.
Faith is not a "hallucination," not a "psychosis," not a "thought defect."
It is holism, the first act of cognition, the foundation of action.
Without it, there is no trust, no society, no science—after all, a hypothesis begins with intuition, not proof.

Can the world be built on "I think" alone? - No.
Can it be built on "faith" alone? - Also no.

Second, there’s the assumption that before we “took the wrong fork in the road,” everything was fine and that if only we hadn’t taken it, we would never have ended up in this mess. — Tom Storm

The very word "crisis" carries a negative connotation. It sounds like the loss of a familiar good. For example, illness is a health crisis, and death is a life crisis.

But what if "crisis" is something bad, but inevitable? For example, our civilization depends on oil, which is finite. When will it run out, will there be a crisis? I hope that by then, we'll be ready and have come up with something. If we take the finiteness of good as a rule, then when creating any system, we should also consider that it's a temporary solutiosolution.

It's funny, but when humanity is offered a new socio-political or social order, no one mentions that it's temporary. Doesn't it seem like we're being fooled every time, and the truth isn't being told?

By the way, I've never heard any advertising like this: this iPhone is the best temporary solution (until the next model comes out)

Namely, a critical examination of a paradigm would require stepping out of that paradigm; but such stepping out would be in conflict with one's committment to said paradigm. — baker

Yes, that's exactly how I put the question. And moreover, what needs to be done to "go beyond the boundaries," to see from the outside? Is it possible?

I started out writing this OP as a kind of valedictory, as it is really one of the main themes I’ve been exploring through all these conversations. I’m nonplussed that it was received with such hostility when I think it is pretty well established theme in the history of ideas. I’m also getting tired of having the same arguments about the same things with the same people. It becomes a bit of a hamster wheel. — Wayfarer

I read this with a heavy heart. But consider: have you ever considered that what you're doing isn't just, or even primarily, an argument, but rather a manifestation of your experience, your lived and learned knowledge, into the world? Perhaps your argument "about the same things" is something more for many? For example, I admit, thanks to you, I've thought about a lot. What if the contribution you make is essentially gratitude to the world for allowing us to reflect on its metaphysical foundations? After all, your arguments also provide a good education and training for ordinary readers like me!

Do you think that full reflection is possible for a person who is inside a paradigm?

There are any number of middle-aged, male monomaniacs in philosophy circles with no real expertise, but an unshakable belief that they’re uncovering reality and answering questions no one else can. Misunderstood geniuses. This must be a common type of human being, which is how George Eliot so magnificently satirised that style of person in her character Mr Casaubon in Middlemarch. — Tom Storm

I sympathize with your reflection on this matter. I often wonder, "By engaging in philosophy, am I finding meaning or simply engaging in intellectual masturbation?"

It seems a fine line.

In my opinion, an idea is worth expressing if it offers some heuristic benefit. If it doesn't, then there's no point in expressing it. At the same time, I often see myself and others "catching a sparrow in a field" – logical iterations for the sake of iterations, without any "going beyond." Entire books are written on this topic. People even defend their doctorates.

On the other hand, without this "noise," without this "environment," truly worthwhile ideas would have no place to thrive.

Returning to the "metaphysical" (transcendental, Divine) justification, I still agree with you: it doesn't necessarily have to be called "Faith." Atheism does the same thing, it just calls it something else.

I also hold that my experience of the world does not have need for most metanarratives; I am a fan of uncertainty. I am also a fan of minimalism and think that people overcook things and want certainty and dominion where knowledge is absent and where they have no expertise — Tom Storm

In the context of exposing your atheism (as I promised earlier in another thread),

So, you're not asserting God or something definite, but something indefinite, as a metaphysical justification?

Does it matter to you how a person defines God? I like the concepts of logos or quantum physics, and the Creator is also good. The Aztec gods are so unfamiliar to me, I have a hard time relating to them. I believe those gods are inacting concepts that have an interesting notion of our relationship with the universe. — Athena

It's not a simple question. Of course, I'm always curious about how exactly the person I'm speaking with calls the transcendental. Most often, it has to do with its origin (but sometimes it's different). To better understand the person I'm talking to, I believe it's important to consider and understand their views on this matter. But for me personally, I've given up on trying to name God. 2,500 years of philosophy haven't been able to do so. The likelihood that I'll be able to is very slim. Therefore, in such matters, I prefer to strive not to comprehend matter (substantia), but to understand the properties of the dynamics of the manifestation of divine design.

What is "it" that happens? — Athena

What is happening, I think, is that the author of the original post is trying to fit life into logic. At this point, he’s drawing a boundary between the Rules of Man and the Laws of Nature — calling the former mutable and the latter immutable.

I must admit, I don’t quite see the scientific novelty or practical applicability of this distinction, though to be fair, there’s no mention of God in his original post.

As for me, I have no firm opinion regarding the metaphysical essence of being. Yet I’ve never met anyone who could explain anything at all without, in some way, appealing to metaphysics or to something transcendent — in the broad sense, to God.

I noticed that the term "Law (of Nature)" is misleading in your otherwise logically sound post. The term itself comes from 17th-century theology and jurisprudence (Descartes, Newton), when the world was seen as a divine code. But nature doesn't prescribe—it occurs. The term "Law (of Nature)" seems like a linguistic artifact. A more accurate expression would be "stable regularities of the physical world" or simply "physical invariants."

This also raises the question: why does our understanding of a so-called law of nature (including mathematics) suddenly constitute that law of nature itself? I see it somewhat differently: our formulas are not a law, but the best approximation to how it happens. And if a new, more precise description is found, we will replace it (this is consistent with Popper).

Let's say this isn't a criticism, but a suggestion for clarification.

You distinguish between logical and empirical necessity, but it seems to me you fail to notice that even your "logical necessity" doesn't exist in a vacuum—it itself presupposes a condition of applicability, that is, the presence of a subject of action and an environment in which that subject is capable of acting.

When you assert that "A must not kill" is a logically necessary conclusion from consistent axioms, you thereby presuppose the very possibility of the existence of living agents with goals, interests, and consciousness. But this is not a logical constant, but an ontological given that can disappear or change.

The "eternal foundation" you propose rests on a premise that itself belongs to the world of becoming, not the world of pure logic. You appeal to the eternity of the conclusion, but fail to note that its axioms can cease to be true.

Even if life as such persists, its strategy can change.
For example, during war, the act of killing ceases to be a violation of the principle of survival—on the contrary, it becomes a condition for it. In this context, the very "necessity" on which your original "ought" was based disappears. Another example: the state has weakened and can't maintain order. Neighbors break into your house and steal your food. Do they still have a "right to life" in you?

Therefore, your theory is not eternal—it is simply temporarily universal, as long as conditions exist in which "action for a purpose" is possible.

You speak of "normative principles" independent of the form of society, but I am saying that the very possibility of a norm depends on the form of existence. And in this sense, everything "eternal" in your model is nothing more than a stable fragment of a changing world.

I don't speak English very well myself and use a translator. I'll try to explain it sentence by sentence.

The world is fluid. I gave an example of change. For example, robots appeared. They replaced human labor. The Constitution guarantees the right to work. Labor has become impossible. What should we do with the Constitution?

You claim: Morality arises from the "necessary." Let's say the "necessary" disappears (as in the case of minority rights). What happens to morality?

I gave this example not to discuss the quality or capabilities of modern robots, but to illustrate one example of the world's fluidity, which continually raises new questions. You spoke of the constitution and its immutability, but how can it be immutable, and CAN it be? Also, in your opening post, you spoke of the emergence of the "ought" from the "necessary." But what if the necessary disappears? Does the "ought" also disappear? You haven't answered my opening question or my follow-up questions.

Okay, so let's say you enshrine the right to work in the constitution. Robots appear and replace humans in every field. The state can no longer guarantee the right to work. Do we change the constitution or get rid of the robots?

As for preventing the erosion of normative perception among the general public, the solution lies in legal education—specifically, in普及 the constitutional reasoning process. — panwei

No, I was talking about something slightly different. If "ought" is derived from "necessary," and the idea of ​​"necessary" changes over time, does what is "ought" also change? Or should "ought" be enshrined in the constitution and predetermined? Then how will evolution occur?

I like the functionalist approach. I also share your idea about the origins of "ought." Essentially, this isn't a new idea—just a new perspective on an old instinct. Modern man, even without a background in philosophy, already lives within this paradigm. He intuitively thinks in terms of cause and effect:

"Don't mess with the electrical panel—it'll kill you."

There's no morality here—there's necessity.

But I have a question for you. Your approach works brilliantly in the context of the formation of society, when any deviation could cost the system its very existence. However, what happens when society becomes overdeveloped?

A hundred years ago, people could afford much less. The risks were higher, the connection between action and consequences more direct. For example, openly declaring one's sexual orientation meant jeopardizing everything: reputation, safety, even one's very existence. Why? Because society then had a clearer sense of its own boundaries, its own supporting structures. Even a single violation was perceived as a crack in the foundation.

Over time, society has strengthened. It has become so resilient that it no longer fears individual deviations. The right to personal choice has become a cult, sometimes to the point of absurdity.

Today, teenagers online hurl words at each other that would once have landed them in court or jail—and they do it playfully.

As a result, the sense of boundaries—that very sense of what is necessary—has become dulled. The individual no longer faces direct punishment for deviant behavior. The functional regulator you wrote about dissolves in excess freedom.

We have Ouroboros, a morality that devours itself.
A system created for survival has succeeded so much that it is now destroying its own foundations.

And here's my question for you:
How do you see this consequence within the framework of your approach?
Can a functional morality explain—or restrain—the self-destruction of a system that has become too successful?

I couldn't ignore this, as I'm personally involved. In our region, proof and evidence are handled by "procedural law." It's typically codified and constitutes a set of norms governing law enforcement. For example, there's "civil law"—a set of substantive norms, rules, imperatives, or discretionary provisions—and "civil procedural law," which primarily regulates the activities of courts and other law enforcement institutions in this area.

In your post, you touch on a key aspect of procedural law—the institution of proof and evidence. Since we're dealing with practical legal philosophy, there's no room for ambiguity in definitions.

So, let's assume there is some "objective truth." It has nothing in common with "truth established by a court," since the court establishes its truth based on properly "obtained information about facts," i.e., evidence.

No piece of evidence has a predetermined weight in court: you can record anything you want in your ledgers a thousand times, but if something is presented that contradicts all those entries, it won't give you an advantage.

It's important to always remember that the law enforcement agency (e.g., the court) does not have the right to independently establish "objective truth," as this would violate the principle of adversarial proceedings.

It's also crucial not to confuse the concepts of "epistemology" (from philosophy) and "establishing circumstances relevant to the case" (e.g., by the court). These are interconnected concepts, and a judge, of course, uses epistemological methods when making a decision or evaluating evidence. But the law clearly states: the court evaluates evidence legally based on its internal convictions (which have no strict criteria).

The law itself is not a reflection of the world order, but rather the consensus of society (or the ruling elite, or an external mentor). The law has nothing to do with justice, the pursuit of happiness, or the achievement of the good. Law is simply a tool (this is actually a very broad topic, and is the subject of "legal philosophy"). Therefore, attempting to understand law enforcement through (civil) philosophy can lead astray.

I learned one very interesting lesson from reading this article.

https://arxiv.org/pdf/2510.13928

I recommend reading the text itself. In short: a neural network was trained on "junk" internet content, resulting in a significant drop in accuracy on logical thinking tasks.

Long-term context understanding became significantly worse.

The number of security risks increased.

An increase in "dark traits" such as psychopathy and narcissism was observed.

It's time to think not about neural networks, but about the internet garbage we consume and where we draw our inspiration.

I can perfectly understand your feelings, especially since my family members live in the United States, where they moved in search of a better life. I worry about them, and although they supported Trump, at the time of his election, I predicted the outcome of his presidency would be either a severe domestic political crisis or an unleashed war (as a means of preventing this crisis and achieving consolidation). Only God knows how this will ultimately end, but I continue to maintain that the next 5-7 years are crucial.

For myself, I have chosen the path of minimal reflection regarding political events, as this allows me to preserve at least some remnants of myself.

The thing is, the world is finite, resources are finite, and to believe that a world of equality and brotherhood throughout the world is possible simultaneously is, in my view, false. There will always be centers that will live at the expense of others, and peripheries without rights, without money, without hope. Perhaps what is happening today is a reconsideration of the current centers that has begun.

What can I do in these processes? I think many of us ask ourselves this question. My answer is that I can generate meaning, re-evaluate the given, criticize and offer new lenses, and do other idle things. :grin:

Our discussion seems to be about 50 years too late. Although, I'm convinced, it must have been a very interesting time, with two diametrically opposed ideologies debating directly and sharply, contrasting themselves with one another. In the end, liberalism prevailed.

And you know, no matter what anyone says, the USSR, in my opinion, lost honorably. It simply admitted its inability to compete and disappeared, fragmenting into separate states. Vanished into oblivion, without taking tens of millions of lives with it.

What happened next is another matter. And what's happening now. Recently, I studied opinions in post-Soviet Russia on this issue. I was intrigued by one of them. I don't want to go into details, but one opinion voiced at the time was: To become a liberal country and end communism, Russia must undergo a revolution. Otherwise, the elites will simply change their colors, and what was already there will continue under a different name. And so it happened: in a number of post-Soviet countries, where there were no major reshuffles or large infusions of money, only the signs changed, while the discourse remained the same. All that remained of the USSR was the worst, and to this was added all the worst of liberalism.

Today, this conflict between collectivism and individualism takes on new colors, although not as acute as before. But in a completely different way – and we see that there are now grounds for criticizing modern liberalism from within Western societies. It seems humanity has become confused. Postmodernism has also mixed in.

These are very interesting times: what's happening now and in the next five to seven years will determine the world order for decades to come. So much is happening that we can't even name it (we're drowning in arguments), let alone develop any solutions.

All that's left is to stock up on popcorn...

You reminded me of the opinion of one amateur philosopher from the 80s:

https://youtu.be/sPLc4hLD3ts?si=JGQqfTqgHXO7XwDR

I'm both impressed and horrified by the fact that for people living in completely different corners of our planet, the problems look the same. There are differences in methodology, approaches, and justifications, but the underlying sense of a shared misfortune is unified. This proves that, at least to me, it's not all just me imagining things.

P.S. When I'm in Semipalatinsk, I'll be sure to send you a couple of photos from the Dostoevsky Museum, where he spent five years in exile and became the "late" Dostoevsky.

No offense taken.

Perhaps you expressed yourself perfectly in context.

The thing is, I've never met anyone who truly doesn't believe in God (what they call transcendence by another word doesn't count), except perhaps philosophers who are capable of transcending these boundaries for a moment, after which they always return.

Most people, even when professing disbelief, often replace God with other "absolute" concepts: science, progress, morality, or personal mission.

A little later, I want to publish a post based on these ideas.

You never cease to amaze and delight me.

Unfortunately, I've met few Russians who understand their culture as well as you do.

Rather, this idea of ​​non-resistance to suffering is not so much understood as experienced and accepted on a sensory level in Dostoevsky’s homeland.

Now to the language of the Declaration itself, it holds that rights are "inalienable" and this indeed suggests that they are clear to all men and women by virtue of reason - they are universals regardless of whatever tradition we encounter. — Colo Millz

You see, these ideas are good as a guarantee of protection against outside encroachment on any of these rights. Which turns out to be a huge fake. They claim you can live, and your life is sacred, but only as long as you live by the rules of respect for this very ideology. As soon as you start thinking or speaking outside this liberal paradigm, you're in big trouble.

The problem of modernity, as I see it, is somewhat different. It's that no one is supposedly encroaching on your freedom from everything, but in this aspiration, you can go so deep that the very need to be disappears. I mean to be someone—a father, a mother, a man, a woman.

And everyone sees this problem, or rather, feels it and names it in their own way, seeking salvation in tradition or reason.

The essence of my idea is that freedom from everything has ultimately turned out to be, perhaps, the stupidest of human creations.

However, there's no reason to worry. The lack of tradition will quickly be replaced by those other guys (with plenty of tradition), as I wrote yesterday – "bearded and with tambourines."

It's paradoxical, isn't it? Maybe the problem lies in anthropology? I'm referring to this greedy expansion of meanings.

I can't speak for everyone, but observing my own behavior, I've noticed that as soon as something is revealed to me, I immediately rush to share it. With loved ones or even on this forum. I think I'm not alone in this; otherwise, neither books nor even language would exist.

So, if we look at the situation using my utopian approach, we'll come back to the same thing.

People have had enough time to become smart and create something great, but apparently, the way we live now (including both the good and the bad, the struggle of ideas and the struggle of meanings) is the smartest possible way.

Your post quoting Hazony got me thinking about the context of his ideas. It seems to me that at the core of the conservative approach, like the progressive one, lies the desire to find a universal truth—some moral or political compass that could serve as a guide for all.

Our era of globalization reinforces this desire: in a world where borders are blurring, it seems logical to seek a single system of values ​​that could unite humanity. However, history shows that such attempts often lead to the expansion of some ideas at the expense of others, often through force, as with colonialism or ideological revolutions, or as continues today through the intervention of some states in others.

What if the problem lies in the question itself? What if the search for a single truth is the wrong goal? Instead of a hierarchical model where truth is imposed from above (be it tradition, as in Hazony, or the rational principles of the Enlightenment), one might propose considering a networked view of society.

In this model, meanings, values, and "truths" are formed locally—in communities, families, or even at the individual level. For example, each individual or group can create their own moral compass, which interacts with but is not subordinated to a single center. This would avoid the trap of universalism, preserving diversity and freedom.

My idea may be utopian and requires further refinement, but it suggests abandoning the construction of "pyramids"—whether traditional or rationalistic—and reconsidering the very approach to the formation of moral and political systems. What do you think about this shift in perspective?

A very interesting topic to ponder.

Basically, some empirical data suggests that our ancestors traditionally had a tail. Let's bring it back?

Traditionalism, rationalism, and other -isms, in my opinion, are always yet another attempt to bring order to the absurd. After all, it's much more comfortable to live with the idea that at the core of everything (the world around us) there's something—a purpose, a meaning, a purpose. When you proclaim communism, you discard traditionalism. Don't you think that nothing will fundamentally change? I'm referring to the replacement of one "belief" with another.

It's also worth noting that in recent years, traditionalism has indeed become very popular worldwide. This includes stuffing oneself into medieval costumes, forced celebration of holidays, ethnomusic, and so on. I see the answer in the human desire to find at least some kind of connection (especially something time-tested) in an era of blurring, deconstruction, and denial of everything. Traditionalists simply see the modern disappearance of all identity as an existential challenge for humanity itself.

Traditionalists may be called fools, but very soon, when our advanced societies enter a gradual decline due to our desire to erode all identity and tradition, we will see others rise up—with beards and tambourines—and rule.

Of course. But I'll be watching closely and waiting for you to slip up. :razz:

I was going to say earlier that for me, gratitude feels like an indebtedness to a mystery for this fragile state of good fortune, which could disappear in a nanosecond. — Tom Storm

Sorry, but I remain skeptical about your calling yourself an atheist.

I never got an answer to any of my questions.

Maimonides wrote that to try and explain the World to Come to a person in a body is like describing color to a person who is blind from birth. Likewise, when Rabbi Harold Kushner was once asked if he believed in the survival of the soul, he replied: “Yes, as a matter of faith, but I do not grasp what it means to be only a soul. For when I think of Harold I think of the voice that you are hearing and the person that I see in the mirror. I am not sure who Harold is without this body.”

it looks unambiguous

It's an interesting discrepancy: Etymologically, Latin "fides" means 'trust', but Slavic "vera" (related to Latin "verus") means 'truth'. — baker

I agree, this is truly interesting. Indeed, in Latin, veritas means truth. It turns out that, as a Slav, I understand both the word and the act itself in a very Western way. I'll definitely look into this, thank you. I wonder how this happened; perhaps it has something to do with the different understandings of the Roman and Constantinople churches? A very astute observation.

It's complex and varied, but rarely as central as it is to Christianity, largely because most of the effort is spent on halacha, or the understanding of the law that governs the day to day — Hanover

Thus, as far as I could tell from the cited articles, there is no mention of the life (or any kind of existence) of a separate soul after death, until the resurrection of the entire body. You must understand that I am unfamiliar with this religion and am literally starting from scratch.

The cited texts mention the soul, but they refer to it as something that lives in and alongside the body, emphasizing the soul's formation only during life (as in the example of the rabbi's answer that one should live longer to fulfill more commandments). It is also mentioned that you will be resurrected as the same person you died. Therefore, any formation outside of life is impossible.

Did I understand correctly?

During my university years, Aristotle's Rhetoric was my go-to book. Discussions about virtues literally remind me of it.

Unfortunately, as I mentioned above, today's society is such that pronouncing something like this publicly will invite ridicule and misunderstanding. And you have to be a fairly accomplished rhetorician to explain these values ​​to a contemporary audience through various techniques, appealing to the listeners' personal values, conveying ideas about "kindness," "honesty," and "caring."

Today, I was having a lunch conversation with a colleague of mine, born in 1995, who completely misunderstood my remarks about proper care for parents or simply human cooperation. The conversation went on for a long time, and eventually, of course, he agreed with me, recalling how he himself suffered from Covid alone in an apartment in a city of millions, with no one to give him water, simply because he chose individualism as a virtue (discourse does its job). And then, he agreed, almost in a whisper, hesitantly, so no one would hear. After all, it seemed rather strange, in his opinion.

It was a light conversation about "involvement," and I noticed how contradictory it fit with his ossified individualism, where the core value and highest good is "success at any cost."

Hence my words about how naive it all seems today. Although, of course, you were talking about something quite different, nonetheless, this experience struck me as a colorful example.

While I find your approach easily refutable (with your permission, I won't), I personally find it very relatable.

At the same time, it seems a bit outdated. It seems very sentimental and naive by today's standards. To me, these are very sound ideas, time-tested, but they're unlikely to interest anyone today. Unfortunately.