(This is Part 1 of a series.)
Zoroaster was a religious leader who appeared in what is now Iran around the year 1200 BCE. In studying the suffering that the human race seemed prone to, he came up with the idea that the only reasonable explanation for it was that God and the forces of light must be less than omnipotent—and indeed, engaged in a cosmic struggle with forces of darkness. Otherwise, if we grant that God is benevolent, how to explain such suffering in the world?
In forming this explanation, Zoroaster posited a black-and-white universe where you either belonged to the forces of light or the forces of darkness. Choose, because there's nothing inbetween. This type of thinking is commonly referred to these days as Manichean thinking, also known as either-or thinking.
One of the common features of Manichean thinking is that there's almost always an "enemy," someone or something consciously choosing to be on the dark side and trying to obliterate "the forces of light."
Another common feature of Manichean, black-and-white thinking is the implicit assumption, nay the fervent conviction, that "we"—that is, our tribe, our country, our side, our religion, our kind, etc.—are the forces of light against whom the forces of darkness are warring.
One of the main problems with this kind of thinking is that it doesn't allow for the subtleties of this universe, and in particular, the subtleties of human existence. Let's take an example: William Shakespeare, almost universally considered the greatest dramatist in history, is applauded among other reasons for the realism of his characters. They seem so "true to life."
And what we notice when we look at his greatest characters is that they're complex beings, complex mixtures of "good" and "bad," complex mixtures of noble impulses and base impulses, capable of being shallow, thoughtless and brutal one moment and large-minded, altruistic and loving the next. Think of Hamlet, King Lear, Brutus, Cleopatra, Othello and so on. Even Macbeth has his good qualities and vacillates back-and-forth before committing the murder.
This is human nature, a mixture. To use the standard paradigms, we all have Hitler and Mother Teresa within us. We're all capable of being petty, sefl-righteous and selfish one time and thoughtful, generous and kind another time. That's who we are.
So if we're going to construct an explanation for human suffering it's going to have to take account of this complex human nature of ours. It's not good enough to say that some us of are "the forces of light" and others of us are "the forces of darkness." That kind of thinking can and does lead to much mischief.
I've talked at length elsewhere, particularly in Song of Existence, about why I think suffering and "evil" exist in this world, so I won't belabor that here. But I do want to offer an alternative to Zoroaster's worldview, and I'd like to do so with an example:
(This is the end of Part 1. Go to Part 2.)
—jim sloman, 11.01.06
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