Think about the video about the work of Wolfgang Beltracchi, then respond to this question: IS FORGERY ART?

The Beltracchi Question / Artistic Intent

The term “art” is often used very broadly; encompassing not just paintings on a canvas, but also less tangible creations like literature or stories, as well as even more tangible ones like sculpting, pottery and architecture. This means that art as a concept is also very broad, and refers to any form of creative expression that is a product of human skill, creativity and/or imagination. As such, in order for something to be art, it does require some kind of intention, as there is by definition always some kind of intention behind everything a person creates—but that does not mean it requires any specific kind of intention in order to classify as art. Attempting to gatekeep what constitutes as art based on its intention is as pointless as it is impossible; as all art is born from human perceptions, emotions and experiences, and is therefore inherently subjective. There are many cases where the exact intention of a given art piece—especially ancient ones—was lost to time, or where a single concrete intention was never stated by the artist. Even if in every one of such cases the original artist were to directly state their intention, it still doesn’t change the fact that other people can appreciate that same piece of art for reasons completely unrelated to the artist’s intentions. While knowing the intentions behind a particular piece can enhance one’s understanding and appreciation for it, having a specific kind of intention is by no means necessary for anything to qualify as a work of art. That is why, in Beltracchi’s case, the fact that his intentions were to scam people out of their money does not change the fact that what he created was indeed art; as they were still the product of his own skill and imagination, even if they tried to mimic the style of art that had already been created.

Originality vs. Technique

There is no such thing as an entirely original piece of art. Human creativity does not come about in a vacuum, nor is art created in one. Our ability to imagine and be creative comes about only after we begin to consciously experience the world around us, and is a direct result of our memories and experiences. Art—being the product of human creativity—is simply a way to synthesize existing experiences in a way that aligns with the artist’s intentions and interpretation of said experiences. While there are many artists responsible for inventing novel methods or techniques which they used to create art in unique ways, all of it is built on existing ideas from experiences and artists that came before. If a piece of art were to be completely original, it would have to create something from nothing at all; a feat which is ultimately impossible for the human imagination, which operates entirely on lived experience.

As such, attempting exclude art from being called as such on the basis of originality goes against the very meaning of art itself. Art is a form of expression arising from human skill and imagination, and the human imagination builds off of pre-existing experiences; therefore, all art is by definition unoriginal to some degree. Even if one were to draw the line at a certain amount of unoriginality, art’s potential for subjective interpretation alongside its broad definition means that it would be difficult, if not impossible to find a line everyone could always agree on. Ultimately, originality is inconsequential in deciding whether or not a work classifies as art, as art fundamentally could not exist without unoriginality. What is most important in defining art is simply the human element; trying to define it by anything else is a slippery slope, and will inevitably conflict with other people’s views or interpretations due to art’s subjective nature.

The Value Paradox

Because art is subjective and can be appreciated in different ways by different people, it simply is not possible to assign an objective value to any given art piece. Money certainly does not achieve this, as the monetary value of an art piece is determined largely by factors completely unrelated to its existence as a work of art, and how much the buyer appreciates the work itself. This can include not only the prestige of the artist and the history surrounding the piece, but also other economic factors that generally dictate the relative value of money for any given individual. More often than not, the only reason high-value art exists is simply to be expensive; serving as either a symbol of wealth and status for its owner, or as a convenient means of transferring large sums of money. Rarely does it speak to how much a work of art is appreciated by the owner, especially in a time where art is so readily accessible through mediums like the Internet without needing to actually own or purchase it yourself. The best anyone can do to try and objectively appraise the artistic value of any given work is by comparing it to other works (i.e. comparing the artistic value of the Mona Lisa to a picture of a giraffe drawn by a 2nd grader)—but even this framework falls apart when you compare art made using two entirely different mediums, or when you factor in that different people can have different levels of appreciation for the same piece of art. Because not everyone places the same amount of value in every aspect or medium of art—nor does everyone interpret the same work of art the same way—, whatever value we do place in art is also purely subjective.

How is knowledge more valuable than ignorance?  Why is it?

Drawing specifically on Gilgamesh, Genesis (the story of Adam and Eve), Oedipus and Lone Star, explore this question. Choose one unified position to defend. Be thorough in your discussion and consider all texts. You must use textual evidence from all texts in your response. (Now you know why we kept the books!)

The value we ascribe to the pursuit of knowledge is there for many different reasons, all of which are fundamentally a result of human nature:

Knowledge is Powerful

Throughout the multiple works we’ve read, the phrase “Knowledge is Power” has proved itself to be as true as it is ubiquitous. While knowledge does not always translate as directly into power as something like physical or military might, there are many times where it is just as, if not even more important in dictating how much power one person has over another. Having access to knowledge that others are not privy to often gives you an inherent advantage over them wherever that knowledge is concerned, allowing you to plan around and make decisions based on information that they aren’t aware of. This advantage is exemplified in the stories of both Utnapishtim from the Epic of Gilgamesh and Noah from Genesis, who are both able to survive a catastrophic, world-ending flood thanks to having prior knowledge that it was going to happen. In both stories, they are given prior warning of the cataclysm from a divine source (in Utnapishtim’s case, his patron god Enki—and in Noah’s case, the one Christian God), and thus were able to prepare for it ahead of time by building an ark that would protect them from the flood. Both Noah and Utnapishtim (and the animals/loved ones they brought with them) were the sole mortal survivors of their respective floods, and were only able to survive thanks to having known in advance that the flood was going to happen—giving them an advantage which allowed them to survive a disaster that would have otherwise resulted in certain death.

It is not just knowledge itself that can result in more power; the very idea itself that one is generally more knowledgeable than another carries with it its own advantages. Being perceived to have more knowledge than most—whether it be through experience or innate intelligence—often allows one to command a much greater degree of respect from others, especially when it comes to the areas they are most knowledgeable in. The blind seer Tiresias from Oedipus and Antigone is a perfect example of this, as he exists as the most knowledgeable character in both stories, and serves as a prophet responsible for telling the other characters what the wishes of the gods are. When Tiresias informs Oedipus that he is the real cause of Thebes’ suffering, he and Creon initially reject his assertion. However, toward the end of Antigone—after Tiresias’ prophecy had already been vindicated—Creon only ends up going back on his decision to execute Antigone because of Tiresias, who warned him that Antigone’s execution would be met with severe consequences. Tiresias was able to convince Creon where his own son could not, simply thanks to him having previously proved himself to be knowledgeable in the will of the gods. His perceived expertise gives him the ability to challenge Creon’s actions even despite Creon’s blatant arrogance and inexorability. Simply the state of being perceived as someone with more knowledge than others gives one a degree of power in and of itself, as those who perceive someone as an expert will place a larger degree of trust in them, and will likely defer to their judgement when faced with difficulty or uncertainty.

Knowledge is Transformative

Not only is knowledge capable of giving people significant power and authority over those without it; it is also able to fundamentally transform people in irreversible ways. One way knowledge can be transformative is exemplified by the both Adam and Eve from Genesis and Enkidu from the Epic of Gilgamesh, who each undergo drastic changes as a result of gaining knowledge and losing a degree of innocence. Adam and Eve began as simple-minded creatures in what is implied to be a trance-like state of unawareness, possessing eternal life at the cost of eternal ignorance. This was until they were eventually tricked into consuming a fruit from what God called the “tree of the knowledge of good and evil” (Genesis 1-3, 2), after which “…the eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves aprons” (Genesis 1-3, 3). They had shed their ignorance at the cost of becoming mortal, and were thrown out of the Garden of Eden by God, never to return. Enkidu, meanwhile, began as a feral child, and lived among wild animals until the Harlot is sent to teach him “(the) woman’s art” (Gilgamesh, 64). The experience transforms Enkidu, “…for now wisdom was in him, and the thoughts of a man were in his heart” (Gilgamesh, 65), forcing him to abandon his life in the wild and integrate into human society. In both cases, the acquisition of knowledge irreversibly changed the character(s) in question, taking them out of a world where they lived not unlike wild animals—simple-minded and largely ignorant to the world around them—and into one that allows them to learn and experience life like a normal human. Knowledge, whether it be about yourself or the world around you, is the means through which people mature throughout their lives—and the biggest thing that sets an adult apart from a child, or a child from a wild animal, is their capacity to gain and understand it. These characters demonstrate that knowledge is a massive part of what makes us human, and that without it, we would never amount to anything more than a feral child, lost in the woods for eternity.

Knowledge is Compelling

While knowledge is undoubtedly important for both our survival and our development as people, in many cases our interest in acquiring knowledge extends beyond just what it can do for us practically or materially. By nature, people are attracted to things that fascinate them, and have an in-built desire to understand and explain the world around us, even if there’s no tangible incentive to do so. One such example of this behavior can be seen from Sam Deeds; the main character of Lone Star. Sam Deeds spends the vast majority of the movie trying to figure out what happened to the old sheriff Charlie Wade after finding his body decades after he was killed. He does this despite having absolutely nothing to gain from finding out the truth, as he knew Charlie Wade more than deserved their fate, and he had no interest in arresting or bringing their killer to justice. Even at the end, when he does discover exactly what had happened, nothing changes for him at all; and he even agrees to maintain its secrecy himself so that those involved wouldn’t be punished. He goes out of his way to dig up the truth not because the knowledge of what happened would serve him, but because he himself wanted closure; especially since it otherwise seemed to implicate his very own father. People tend to seek closure and understanding in all facets of their lives, and often we find ourselves seeking knowledge not for a competitive advantage or to profoundly change ourselves as a person, but just for the sake of knowing more about ourselves and parts of the world that fascinate us.

The pursuit of knowledge is one that comes from human nature itself, tracing back to its usefulness to our survival, our tendency toward curiosity, and its formative role in making us who we are. While curiosity and knowledge in and of themselves are not unique to humans, we possess not only the ability to acquire and interpret information to a much greater extent, but also to communicate it and pass it down so effectively that each generation becomes more knowledgeable than the last (a phenomenon known as the Flynn Effect). As such, the passing down of knowledge through culture and technology has become so ingrained into the human experience that it has become by far the biggest thing that separates us from any other organism in Earth’s long evolutionary history. The value of knowledge to us is intrinsic, stemming originally from its incredible use in giving our ancestors a never-before-seen advantage over every other species while allowing individuals to interact in ways no other animal could dream of; and, after millions of years of cultural and technological development, we continue to pursue it just as we do other instinctual impulses like love and greed—even when there’s no urgent need to.

Why do the right thing if you only are punished for doing so?
This is one of the central questions that the Book of Job poses. Job is clearly an upstanding man: “that man was blameless and upright, one who feared God, and turned away from evil.” How much easier for the reader to wish that Job were not morally good, for isn’t it human nature to believe that good ought be rewarded while evil is punished? How, then, to make sense of the wisdom text?

In a series of well-organized paragraphs, explain first why you believe that good generally ought to be rewarded while evil should be punished (or if you don’t believe so, explain why you don’t). How do you justify your own good fortune? Then discuss why humans ought to act ethically, even if they might reap no rewards and might actually be punished for doing so. End by speculating on why God seems to punish a good man (Job).

Do not use any outside sources for this entry, but rather try to formulate your own understanding of the issues.

While what we consider ‘good’ can vary drastically from person to person depending on their cultural and societal backgrounds, actions that people describe as ‘good’ are those which benefit those who they deem to be deserving of it while also minimizing suffering. What we consider to be ‘evil’ also varies the same way, and actions described as ‘evil’ are those we consider to be the exact opposite of good—ones that harm those that we deem not to be deserving of it, and that involve unnecessary suffering. Humans are social creatures, and both of these concepts come from instinctive reactions people have to behavior that benefits the entire group.

Humans, for as long as they have existed, have always relied on establishing groups and social structures, as they take advantage of both our shared desire to survive and thrive and our affinity for advanced communication. The groups that last the longest are often those that collectively benefit their constituents the most, and thus groups are often engineered increase the chances of survival for all of its’ members by putting each individuals’ efforts toward things that benefit the group as a whole—creating a positive feedback loop that encourages other members of the group to reciprocate. Meanwhile, actions we consider evil stem largely from selfishness, and/or an unwillingness or inability to consider how they impact others. These kinds of evil acts occur when the benefits of cooperation are greatly outweighed by the benefits of being selfish in a particular situation, or when a person in one group perceives someone else as outside of their own group. If everyone all across the world did only good things while considering everyone else deserving of them, the lives of almost every person on Earth would improve drastically as a result—to the point where, with modern technology at our fingertips, virtually all of the biggest problems we face as a species would disappear entirely. For that reason, it’s vital for the good of our entire species that good behavior be rewarded and evil behavior be punished, as many of the material factors that made selfishly evil behavior necessary for our ancestor’s survival were overcome long ago—now only serving to hold human societies back.

Despite mutual benefit being the main driver behind our conception of ‘good’, people can sometimes choose to do good things even in situations where there is no mutual benefit to be had. Humans are not just a product of their instincts; thanks to how dynamic and pliable our brains are, we are able to go against them and invent our own reasons for doing things in response to our environment. Someone who has developed a strong sense of morality throughout their life may decide to stick to them for a variety of reasons; whether it be to stay true to long-held beliefs that they believe have inherent value, benefit others they care about, or simply because they’ve been conditioned to respond that way through previous life experiences. It’s the same way that people can sometimes end up doing evil things even when they stand to gain nothing; from small transgressions like rudeness and small-scale discrimination, to massively consequential acts such as school shootings.

God is portrayed very strangely in the Book of Job, seemingly punishing him simply to prove a member of his own divine council wrong. This seems to be something quite reminiscent of how gods are portrayed in older, polytheistic mythologies like the one present in Gilgamesh, as it is a decision that not only portrays God to have a very human-like personality, but that also completely contradicts his supposed omniscience. If God in the Book of Job were truly all-knowing and above human flaws, the Satan would have absolutely no reason to question him—as God would know exactly what makes Job as faithful as he is, and would know definitively that Job’s good fortune isn’t the only thing that motivates him to be virtuous without needing to test him at all. If God does actually know and is simply humoring the Satan’s accusations just to show them they’re wrong, that would mean God decided to punish Job entirely on a whim to quite literally win a bet and one-up a member of his divine council, in a fashion not unlike how middle-schoolers would act in a game of truth-or-dare. Overall, this seems to portray God in a very similar way to how the flawed gods of Gilgamesh and Greek mythology are, as it suggests that he is either not fully omniscient, or that he has a flawed personality and will not hesitate to take drastic action on nothing more than a whim.

Reread the Emily Dickinson poem “Eden is that old-fashioned House.”

Eden is that old-fashioned House
We dwell in every day
Without suspecting our abode
Until we drive away.
How fair on looking back, the Day
We sauntered from the Door —
Unconscious our returning,
But discover it no more.

In a well-developed series of paragraphs, address the following questions:

a. In what way is this poem like Adam and Eve’s leaving the Garden of Eden? Be specific.

This poem draws a parallel between Adam and Eve’s leaving the Garden of Eden and the familiar experience of moving on to a new stage of one’s life; an experience which Adam and Eve must have gone through after being kicked out of the place in which they had spent their whole lives, and into a world that is completely different from what they were used to. It does this by using Eden as a metaphor for the familiar place that one is leaving behind—likening it to an old home, and talking about it as if from the perspective of people who are moving away after having spent a long time living there. As such, the poem can easily be construed as to having been written from the perspective of Adam and Eve, who moved away from their own “old-fashioned House”—or the Garden of Eden—and who are ultimately unable to return; just as one who sold their old home to move into a new one cannot go back to living there.

b. Thinking about your own life, as a high school senior about to leave your home– one, presumably, in which you have “dwell[ed] in every day,” how is your situation parallel to that of Adam and Eve’s leaving the Garden? How does this poem describe your own situation, as you are about to “drive away”? Be specific.

While I won’t actually be leaving my home just yet (I’m taking a gap year), not only will I be leaving a school I’ve spent much of the past four years attending and familiarizing myself with, but I will also be leaving the public school system that has dictated where I’ve gone to school almost my entire life. Even though it’s not exactly the same thing as leaving behind an old home (something I’ve also experienced in the past), it’s still leaving behind something that has played a massive role in defining this stage of my life, and it marks the end of a period of my life I’ll never be able to return to. While the poem specifically talks about Eden and an driving away from an “old-fashioned House”, it does so in a metaphorical sense that can be applied to almost any familiar place, situation or circumstance that defines any given stage of your life, and that will irreversibly change it once the time comes to move on and leave them behind. For me, high school is most certainly one of these circumstances, and moving on from it will change my life in more ways than I now know.

c. What are you most afraid will be changed for your return? Why?

The scariest thing about moving on is mainly the uncertainty of what the future holds, and the knowledge that things may very well only get harder from here. I currently have no idea if where I’m going will be better or worse than where I currently am now, or if I will even be able to make it there in the first place. With that level of uncertainty, it’s hard not to worry; especially when it’s part of human nature to stick to the familiar and fear the unknown. I just hope that wherever I find myself in two years is a worthy successor of the old-fashioned house I dwell in today.

What is the best piece of advice you’ve ever received? (Consider an answer other than the obvious– never lick a metal pole in winter.)

• Who provided that advice?
• What made it so valuable?

Using these questions only as a starting point, write a personal narrative (on your own blog) that explains what made this advice so valuable to you and what you think you have learned from it. Be sure to explain who gave you that advice and in what context s/he provided it.

The most memorable piece of advice I have ever received was given to me by my mother thirteen years ago, after I experienced great loss for the very first time.

I have been raised alongside dogs and cats for as long as I can remember. Growing up surrounded by pets has taught me first-hand how immensely rewarding taking care of and providing a loving home for them really is, and has brought me to view them as nothing less than a vital part of my family. However, it was not until I was seven years old did I experience what is by far the most difficult part of caring for pet animals.

While I had a few pets at that time, the one I was by far the closest with was our first tiger-striped tabby cat named Matisse—or Tisse (pronounced tee-see) for short. My parents had adopted him 5 years before I was born, after he was abandoned by his original owners who gave him up because he turned out to be FIV (Feline Immunodeficiency Virus) positive. My parents had taken on pets in the past that were afflicted with FIV and other diseases most prospective pet-owners tend to avoid; in fact, they usually liked to prioritize those pets because they had the knowledge and experience necessary in order to properly take care of them, and because they always considered it the right thing to do. When my parents had me five years later, Tisse ended up becoming inseparably attached to me as a baby, and proved to be one of my closest companions as I grew up. I’ve been told he would always react very intently to my emotions—coming over to calm me down whenever I was mad, or trying to lick away my tears whenever I cried—and would voluntarily allow me to pick him up and bring him with me wherever I went. His level of attachment to me surprised even my parents, who had plenty of past experience with pets themselves. Tisse was a very important part of my life growing up, and would end up watching over me for seven of my most formative years.

His time came extremely quickly, especially for my young and innocent self at the time. Tisse had developed multiple severe cardiovascular issues in very quick succession, and ended up suddenly passing away in the middle of the night at the age of twelve. I was as distraught as my 7-year old self could have possibly been; it was the very first time I ever experienced the death of a loved one, and the amount of grief I went through was incredibly difficult for my developing brain to handle. My parents were instrumental in helping me cope with his passing, and very shortly afterward, my mother would give me a piece of advice that has stuck with me ever since.

While her exact words are now lost to me—hidden deep within the jumbled-up mess that is my memories of my seventh year on this planet—, I have never allowed myself to forget the impact that they’ve had on the way I think today. My mother told me that one of the best ways to deal with this kind of grief is not only to think of how wonderful the time you spent with them was, but also to take the love you had for them and pay it forward to someone or something else. Every living thing, be it a cat or a human being, lives on through their legacy, and the way our memories of them change the way we act even long after their passing. Doing something meaningful in their name both honors their life and allows them to live on through the way they changed you, something which makes their legacy that much more consequential. This method of coping with death didn’t just help me through the process of grieving for the very first time; it also fundamentally changed the way I think about life, even now. In time, it made me realize that every life is consequential and worthwhile, no matter how short or insignificant; because every living thing lives on through even the smallest of differences they make. Our world would not be the same if not for the combined efforts of every living person, animal, and cat to ever exist—and not a single one of them could be taken out of the picture without making it a completely different place in some way. That difference, however small it may be, is something I now think is always worth having lived for.

In the months that followed Tisse’s death, my family adopted 4 kittens in his name. One of these kittens was a tiger-striped tabby who urgently needed a foster home due to a FPV (Feline Panleukopenia Virus) outbreak at their shelter, and who looked almost identical to Tisse—the only difference being a white patch of fur on her back in the shape of a square-edged heart. Thirteen years later, she is now curled up in a ball on my lap, sleeping soundly as I finish typing this sentence—choking back tears while fondly remembering what once was.

Say hi, Tansy!

How do we figure out whether or not a life has value? When do we make this decision?

The value of a person’s life is entirely subjective; there is no way of measuring a person’s worth other than by what the person doing the measuring thinks is important. Any particular metric one could cite in deciding the relative worth of a person’s life changes drastically depending on the perspective you look at it from, meaning that the very idea of even being able to be assigned a value is subjective in and of itself. Not only do a vast array of biases affect how much we care the life of about any given person, but even the most objective and utilitarian means of gauging a person’s overall worth—typically by merit or overall impact on society—completely fall apart when exposed to people with fundamentally different values and perspectives. Even such commonly accepted truths as life actually having an intrinsic value to begin with simply don’t hold up, as history contains many examples of people being dehumanized to the point where their lives were considered to have no inherent value at all. In reality, it is up to every individual person to define their own criteria for gauging how valuable another person’s life is to them; which is why how much we personally care about any given life (even non-human ones) so drastically affects how much we value it.

What is the meaning and purpose of life?

In much the same way that the value of life is subjective, so too is the meaning of it. Unlike modern-day humans, virtually every species throughout Earth’s history spend their entire lives working solely toward the goal of surviving and reproducing. Such is the closest thing to a purpose that life before humans ever had, as that is what their natural instincts dictate, and is what is necessary for them even to exist at all. Humanity’s ancestors were no exception to this, and evolved from the very same contest of survival and reproduction; a ‘purpose’ that is not chosen, passed down or even assigned, but that only can be called such a thing because it is the only thing the vast majority of life on Earth has the ability to do. While it may seem that our evolution of the human brain has allowed us to transcend the original purpose of life and to take on purposes of our own, the truth is that life never had purpose or meaning to it in the first place. No species before us has ever had the capacity to understand both themselves and the world around them as we do today, nor have they had the ability to even wonder if there could possibly be anything more to life than simply what their instincts tell them. Even on the most fundamental level, life itself exists thanks to chemical reactions and natural processes that aren’t the least bit purposeful; and that is how it has existed for billions of years before us. The idea that there may be a greater purpose or meaning of life is an entirely man-made idea, not derived from our understanding or observations of the world around us, but created as a way to handle the unparalleled complexity of our mind and the countless curiosities, experiences and possibilities it is presented with throughout our extensive lives. It is a concept that helps people get by in life, giving them a sense of focus and direction in difficult times where life seems uncertain while promoting the development of like-minded communities of people. That is why we pioneered the idea of life having such a purpose, and—much like the concept of attaching value to life—it is an idea that is both created and defined by us. That’s why the meaning and purpose of life is not some unshakeable instinct or cosmic imperative; rather, it precisely what you want it to be, nothing more and nothing less.

A) List five things you want to have possessed or have experienced by the time you reach the end of your life (whenever that may be).
B) How will you be remembered? Add to this list one quality you would like to be remembered for.
C) Discuss why each of these things (or ideals, ideas or qualities) are important to you personally.
D) Discuss how each of these things (or ideals, ideas or qualities) are valuable to humanity.

1. I want to have written and publicized some kind of story, whether it be through a novel, TV show, movie, or any other creative medium. I want to do this not only out of my love for interesting stories and well-crafted characters, but also because it allows me to channel my creativity into something that other people can enjoy and be inspired by.
2. I want to have held a career that I was both good at and enjoyed doing. This would mean that I would have been able to contribute to society in a way that also made me happy, which is probably the most anyone could ask for in a job (besides money, of course).
3. I want to have enough money to be able to retire and live comfortably in a good rural or suburban home. My personal reasoning for this is quite obvious; saving enough money throughout the course of your life to comfortably retire is an essential part of the American Dream (you didn’t say this had to be realistic, after all), and I can imagine it would suck to have to keep working past retirement age with the effects of old age setting in. This one is more on the selfish side, and wouldn’t really be valuable to society or humanity as a whole.
4. I want to experience first-hand the future of technology, and where relatively new tech like AI and virtual reality end up by the end of my lifetime. I take great interest in what these new technologies are capable of, and with the rate of technological advancement increasing exponentially, I am very excited to see where we end up by the time I retire. Technology is a vital part of life as a modern human, and its development brings with it immense benefits to society and people’s quality of life.
5. Lastly, at some point when I’m older and am in a stable financial situation, I want to adopt another group of around 4 cats and raise them together, like my parents did with my current cats. Not only do I want to continue the family tradition (both of my parents grew up with cats when they were younger), but they’re also quite easy to take care of and are really nice to have around. Cats were historically valuable to humanity thanks to their ability to hunt and kill pests that would threaten to break in and eat food being stored for later. That’s not what people use them for now, though—nowadays people just have them around because they’re really cute.
6. I really just want to be remembered for being a good person with a strong moral compass. While I don’t know exactly how my life will unfold or what I will find myself doing as an adult, I do know that I ultimately want to be someone who helps make the world a better place, even if only a tiny bit. Morals are the cornerstone of any ideal society, and people often lose sight of them in pursuit of power and control; something which you see far too often in even some of the most democratic governments across the world.

Utnapishtim replies to Gilgamesh’s painful search for immortality with simplicity: 

“There is no permanence” (106).

What does this mean for humanity? Specifically, how does our world illustrate this notion of impermanence?

It means that nothing in life—or in the universe, for that matter—lasts forever. While Gilgamesh is focused solely on immortality and avoiding death, Utnapishtim chooses to shift the focus to a more general sense of impermanence by presenting him with an array of rhetorical questions: “Do we build a house to stand for ever, do we seal a contract to hold for all time? Do brothers divide an inheritance to keep for ever, does the flood-time of the rivers endure? … From the days of old there is no permanence” (107). Utnapishtim is reminding Gilgamesh that change is an inescapable part of life, and death is simply one of the many forms that change takes on. He uses these rhetorical questions to reveal how naive and foolish the idea of trying to circumvent change is, as the idea of change is weaved so deeply into the fabric of reality that it practically defines not only humanity, but life itself. Not only do the universe and the environments we live in change constantly in nigh-unpredictable ways, but the very concept of life is only able to exist thanks to its ability to constantly adapt and evolve to those changes through death and the birth of new generations. Humans would not be human at all without change; cultures would remain static, technology and our understanding of the world would stagnate, and we would remain beholden to the most archaic of ideas centuries after they had began to overstay their welcome. All of these things that are so essential to human life, and that grant us a sense of purpose and direction as a species, come with the passing of new generations and the birth of fresh minds capable of looking at the world in ways the previous generation might have never even thought of.

How do people even get up and go about their business in a world that is fleeting and ephemeral? If we all die, what ultimately gives us meaning in life?

While the fleeting nature of life may at a glance seem like a grim and harsh reality, I would argue that it is in reality the exact opposite. Not only is the very nature of life built upon change, but so too is everything that sets humanity apart from every other living creature we know. The many cultures, societies and languages that existed throughout history are only as well-developed as they are today thanks to the fleeting nature of humanity, which allows them to be reimagined by fresh minds and new perspectives throughout each passing generation. The advanced technologies and novel ideas that make up today’s society and that improve the lives of billions were only possible because of each new generation’s ability to develop and build upon old ideas, replacing them with new ones as our understanding of the universe expands. The replacement of the old with the new allows for the growth of our species in a way that would never otherwise be possible; and if not for it, we might very well still be a group of meandering cavemen whose sole purpose is to prolong an existence that has already overstayed its welcome. Utnapishtim is a perfect example of the stagnation that would occur, as he himself is an immortal who, despite his ascension to a form of godhood, spends his days in complete isolation doing seemingly nothing at all. Achieving immortality led him to cut himself off from human society and maintain a lifestyle for entire lifetimes that would drive most people crazy after just a couple weeks. Humans are social creatures; interaction with people and society is a core part of human life, and the presence of people other than just yourself is often considered what makes life worth living in the first place. Utnapishtim’s solitary lifestyle reveals that he lost touch with what made him human; and rather than putting him above the rest of humanity, it simply stripped his life of any and all meaning. With every passing generation, the survival and development of our species is entrusted to a new set of people, whose actions will go on to alter the course of the human race for every generation to come; and that makes our lives far more meaningful than any amount of years spent idling about could ever come close to.

Finally, how do we, as mortal humans, create a sense of order and eternal life?

The natural life cycle of each generation imposes a sense of order on our lives by giving them a clear purpose in the bigger picture; to decide how they want their generation to change the world, and to set the stage for the next generation to do the same. This cycle not only greatly influences how people live their lives, but also opens up a way for humans to immortalize themselves through their actions rather than through the impossibility of eternal life. Not only are the exceptional feats of the most accomplished in each generation immortalized in the annals of history (as is Gilgamesh long after his death), but so too are the thoughts, actions and accomplishments of ordinary people which shape the very world that the next generation will be brought into. Every human that has ever lived has had a role to play in laying the foundation for the world that the next generation will live in, the decisions that they make, the issues they will have to face, and the way they will lay their own foundation for their own successors. It is a cycle that gave birth to the greatest collaborative project the world has ever known, through which the combined efforts of each person not only make history, but make the future, too. That project is humanity, and it is the only way to circumvent death that we will ever need.

Some of you have read The Odyssey and/or The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Most of you have seen the Star Wars or Harry Potter films or Raiders of the Lost Ark or The Lord of the Rings. 

What about Achilles or Hercules? What do all of these works have in common?

These works are all centered around a male protagonist who embarks on a journey to accomplish some form of goal. Each of these stories’ protagonists use their own skills to overcome obstacles throughout their journey; whether it be their innate/inherited strength, intelligence and cunning, or other skills that they learn throughout the course of their journey.

Many people would say that the protagonists in all of these could be considered heroes. But are they? What is a hero? How do we define heroic actions or behavior?

While not all of the protagonists in these stories are great people, they all conform to the classic hero archetype which grants them the title of hero. By the time of their respective story’s conclusion, each of them manage to accomplish their goal against great odds through feats of courage, intelligence, skill or strength, cementing them as characters that the reader could reasonably aspire to be like. Heroic behavior is often defined along these lines, consisting of actions that exhibit a level of bravery or ability greater than that of a regular person, typically in pursuit of a noble—or at least reasonable—cause. As a result, heroes are often backed by supernatural forces, or are inherently supernatural themselves so that they may accomplish these feats despite their overwhelming impossibility, as is the case with most of the examples listed previously.

And can a woman be a hero(ine)? If so, why are there no women in that list above?

Women can indeed be portrayed as heroes, with many modern books like The Hunger Games and movies like Captain Marvel depicting female protagonists who largely fit the archetype of a hero. However, it is undoubtedly true that male protagonists have almost completely dominated the hero archetype throughout history. While there are likely many reasons for this, it seems to me that the biggest contributing factor is the fact that these stories were primarily written by men, leading the hero archetype to adopt traditionally masculine qualities of exceptional strength and courage that men are traditionally associated with.

If heroes serve as models of particular conduct, how would you define that conduct?

A hero’s conduct not only involves exceptional feats of ability and courage, but usually also includes noble deeds of selflessness and compassion, or at least actions that are viewed positively by others even if they aren’t necessarily done with selflessness in mind. This can range from self-sacrifice in the name of a higher cause (typically present in more recent examples of the hero’s archetype), to simply slaying dangerous monsters. Overall, the hero’s conduct entails doing things that no regular person would, or could ever accomplish, through both exceptional and often supernatural means. Many modern examples of the hero archetype also tend to depict heroes that are strictly selfless and good-intentioned, accomplishing great feats in an attempt to help others or to defeat a greater evil; a trend which is notably missing in many of the ancient stories that first established the hero’s archetype as a literary staple.

Secondarily, what purpose do heroes serve to us as humans? Do we need them? Why? Bertolt Brecht once said, “Unhappy the land that needs heroes.” What does this mean, in light of your understanding of what makes a hero?

The idea of a hero and the hero archetype as a whole at its core serves as a structure for stories to be built around, and as a creative outlet for people to imagine the best possible version of themselves; something which, due to the fallible and imperfect nature of real-life humans, is only attainable within the confines of a story. Characters that follow the hero archetype are designed to embody many of the traits that people look up to, and that they wish they had themselves. As such, the traits that we see as the most commendable and the type of people we want to look up to form the foundation of the hero archetype, which serves as its main purpose in literature and society. The hero archetype allows authors to not only fantasize about and create interesting stories about what would be possible if people weren’t so imperfect, but it also feeds into people’s tendency to idolize those they perceive as a cut above the rest. Examples of this tendency can be seen throughout history, with many historical figures like Napoleon Bonaparte, George Washington, and even Adolf Hitler, all of whom took advantage of this very tendency to gain immense popularity and ultimately rise to positions of great power. While George Washington was admired for the (perhaps somewhat exaggerated) stories of his courage and expert leadership and was practically handed the position of President as a result, figures like Napoleon and Hitler created false narratives that portrayed themselves as heroic and infallible, attracting cult-like followers that allowed them to exercise complete control over their respective nations. What’s more is that each of these examples occurred in times of great struggle, where dire circumstances—in these cases, the French and American Revolutions and the Great Depression—made people far more willing to trust them and their stories of heroism. While the “Unhappy land” that Bertolt Brecht speaks of may not actually need a hero to thrive, those who live in it will undoubtedly turn to those they look up to the most for guidance, whether they be a truly exceptional hero from a fictional story, or someone in real life who presents themselves as one.

Welcome to your brand new blog at Edublogs!

To get started, simply visit your blog’s dashboard, edit or delete this post and check out all the other options available to you.

Like more help?

We can walk you through step-by-step in our guide to getting started with your blog.

Happy blogging!