But let’s suppose that unregenerate man fails to fulfill his means-obligations. What then? Will telling him that he must do the supererogatory fix the situation? I don’t see how it would. If he isn’t fulfilling his means-obligations it’s not clear why he would fulfill his means-supererogations. — Leontiskos
Yes. Telling people that they must do more to do enough, when we already can't do enough, doesn't work.
I would say that for the non-religious, or for those who believe that this state is our inevitable and perpetual condition, the only option is some form of resignation (to failure). To reuse the recycling analogy, this would be resigning oneself to fail to correct climate impact. You can still recycle, but only with the knowledge that you will not succeed—with the knowledge that you are only delaying the inevitable. And one can play Camus all they like, but that burns out fast enough. — Leontiskos
Answers to the problem aren't really about what to do, I think, they're about how to cope with our condition of being unable to do "enough". One way of dealing with that is to try to do enough. Or to try to bring about a state of things were people can do enough. Like
@Count Timothy von Icarus engender.
That said, I think there are other options of how to feel than resignation, absurdity and faith - one could learn to love the taste of the brick wall. I think that goes against our natures more than what we've been talking about in this thread, though.
Existentialism looks like it provides an answer. I'm going to use this as an opportunity to rant about it. The number of people I see adopt an "existentialist" posture in person is quite high, but it does nothing to stop everyday petty grievances and tragedies from hurting them, and it doesn't allow them to enjoy the pain of it. I see an appeal to absurd as a metacognitive trap, it's how you think you think, but you only think that because you're not looking at how you think. It's also metaphysical stopgap, a refusal to inquire or do more. It's a refusal to be troubled by the troubling. Though doubtless there are more sincere engagements with it than the one I see often.
I will spare you my comments about faith in this context. But they resemble my comment below about extreme leftism, which I see as a secular form of faith.
I agree with you that a secular "answer" to the problem is quite difficult. The people I'm aware of who are troubled by these problems are generally socialists or communists, and treat The Revolution in eschatological terms. It will be Kingdom come, but of our own making. The faith they have in a future end-state with no means of imagining how to bring it about. They don't have the option of absolving themselves of all responsibility - all acts of going above and beyond - for bringing it about though. I think they're aware of how fucked things are {our fallenness} and stop thinking about it. It all dissolves into the question "What is to be done?". Though I think they real answer to that question is "What is to be done, that goes above and beyond, that I can actually do without an incredible amount of self sacrifice?". Which I have a lot of respect for. The amount of going above and beyond required from everyone for things to be markedly better may be pretty small indeed, and I can respect the gamble.
CS Lewis {for which I will retag
@Count Timothy von Icarus due to his stanning for the man} has excellent commentary on this in The Screwtape Letters. For those of you which have not read it, this is a series of funny and disturbing essays, written from the perspective of the middle manager devil Screwtape mentoring his enthusiastic but hapless younger sibling Wormwood in the art of tempting mortals to sin. Throughout they fight "The Enemy" - God - principally through perversions of human faith and duty. The ideal state of the sinner in the book is someone who behaves without virtue who believes themselves either righteous or able to absolve themselves of their evil while continuing it.
To be sure, the Enemy wants men to think of the Future too — just so much as is necessary for now planning the acts of justice or charity which will probably be their duty tomorrow. The duty of planning the morrow's work is today's duty; though its material is borrowed from the future, the duty, like all duties, is in the Present. This is not straw splitting. He does not want men to give the Future their hearts, to place their treasure in it. We do. His ideal is a man who, having worked all day for the good of posterity (if that is his vocation), washes his mind of the whole subject, commits the issue to Heaven, and returns at once to the patience or gratitude demanded by the moment that is passing over him. But we want a man hag-ridden by the Future —haunted by visions of an imminent heaven or hell upon earth — ready to break the Enemy's commands in the present if by so doing we make him think he can attain the one or avert the other — dependent for his faith on the success or failure of schemes whose end he will not live to see. We want a whole race perpetually in pursuit of the rainbow's end, never honest, nor kind, nor happy now, but always using as mere fuel wherewith to heap the altar of the future every real gift which is offered them in the Present.
It follows then, in general, and other things being equal, that it is better for your patient to be filled with anxiety or hope (it doesn't much matter which) about this war than for him to be living in the present. But the phrase “living in the present” is ambiguous. It may describe a process which is really just as much concerned with the Future as anxiety itself. Your man may be untroubled about the Future, not because he is concerned with the Present, but because he has persuaded himself that the Future is, going to be agreeable. As long as that is the real course of his tranquillity, his tranquillity will do us good, because it is only piling up more disappointment, and therefore more impatience, for him when his false hopes are dashed. If, on the other hand, he is aware that horrors may be in store for him and is praying for the virtues, wherewith to meet them, and meanwhile concerning himself with the Present because there, and there alone, all duty, all grace, all knowledge, and all pleasure dwell, his state is very undesirable and should be attacked at once. Here again, our Philological Arm has done good work; try the word “complacency” on him. But, of course, it is most likely that he is “living in the Present” for none of these reasons but simply because his health is good and he is enjoying his work. The phenomenon would then be merely natural. All the same, I should break it up if I were you. No natural phenomenon is really in our favour. And anyway, why should the creature be happy? — The Screwtape Letters, CS Lewis
Lewis' antidote to this was to
really give your all in the present and consign the outcomes to the will of God - for posterity and luck to judge, in secular terms. This is a form of living in the present. Notably Lewis sees our duties tomorrow as "acts of justice and charity", which are duties in the expanded sense
@Count Timothy von Icarus was talking about. I think whether you read the above similarly to any self help book, or a means for bettering the world, depends upon the scope of duties and what you believe people following their duties successfully look like. From my relatively quotidian perspective on duty, in which people tend to satisfy them in our day to day lives, the above reads like any self help book extolling the virtues of living in the moment. If you instead read Wormwood's target of temptation heroically, that they will indeed plan tomorrows acts of justice and charity and simply pray for grace in their execution and outcome, the issue disappears. But the bar for good human conduct raises to a level that it becomes practically unattainable. At which point, in my view, it beggars belief that we could refer to any human as good accurately. And I do see us as referring to ourselves as good accurately, so what is good must be more quotidian than the world transforming eternal present of Lewis', or
@Count Timothy von Icarus's, moral hero.
The latter moral hero functioning as someone to aspire to, or as the regulative ideal of our moral imagination? I can agree with that. But then we circle the inherency of failure again, and of the impossibility to fulfil that ideal, despite being required to do so by the state of things.