The Great Experiment of ‘Order’: A Devil’s Case for ‘Chaos’

The Great Experiment of ‘Order’: A Devil’s Case for ‘Chaos’

Tridip Patir

I

What if the government is merely a multi-generational experiment to hide our true human condition of inevitable disorder? Perhaps ‘chaos’, and not peace, is the true order of nature, and we have buried it beneath thousands of lies about ‘structure’. Here, I play the devil’s advocate, arguing from an absurdist’s perspective on the world’s underlying meaninglessness.

Thus, this inverted stance understands human structures of government as a noble but ultimately futile undertaking in the face of world-meaninglessness. In the following, I will speak as though I am an absurdist who advocates the inevitability of disorder. This is neither a prescriptive model nor a dogma, but merely an inverse-philosophical thought experiment of how a specific form of absurdism that calls for resignation may be fitting in dealing with failures of political structures due to the chaotic underpinnings of the human condition.

Ultimately, it is understood that political structure is an illusion of sustained order in a largely disordered world.

II

First, there is a certain truth to egoism, at least pragmatically. Seen from a historical and social point of view, egoism is indeed the driving force of individualism. Political structures often fail following the increasing egoism of their leaders. This is an eternal truism.

Society exists for the welfare of its citizens, who in turn, give back in various ways for its progression. Aristotle’s ‘Eudaimonia’, which is ethical, is ultimately based on the smooth functioning of society. The Greeks tried to figure out the most appropriate manner for society to retain its civilised veneer. Philosophers tirelessly formulated theories of governance. The summum bonum has always been ‘happiness’ in many of these models. Thinkers like J.S. Mill, Bentham, Rousseau, Hobbes, all conceptualised theories about the most perfect form of government, ranging from Utilitarianism to Social Contract.

The idea of government as a vehicle for societal welfare reads as empty idealism. Disorder, and ergo, egoism, is likely an inseparable feature of the human condition, not a flaw that can be erased. A devil’s case for disorder may try to find an antithetical view to this idealistic lens of societal welfare as the highest good, and in this, we reiterate that ‘Chaos’, perhaps, is the true order of the entire cosmos. This is also seen in the concept of Entropy in science, which is the gradual increase of disorder in isolated cosmic systems. Everything in the universe deteriorates. Nature is cruel. Then, how do we reconcile with this?

III

The early enlightenment thinkers considered that while the natural workings of the sun and the moon (extended to the cosmos) were unknowable, the workings of government were knowable because we created its rules. The latter makes sense. Early enlightenment thinkers believed that since God or the divine created the natural universe (planets, stars, etc.), we are incapable of knowing its true scientific workings, and hence, they are unverifiable.

To these early thinkers, political structures were created by humans, therefore, their laws are verifiable and, mistakenly, considered infallible, but what they fail to consider is the foundational human condition of disorder, which renders illegitimate any structure in said political systems. So, in theory, this may sound enticing. In praxis, it falls apart.

It is with great appreciation, then, that Hobbes, one of the first skeptical points against enforced structure, must be brought up. Humans, in Hobbes’ terms, are driven by self-interest and competition. This is the primary catalyst for the introduction of the ‘social contract’. Without a common overseeing judge, humans are liable to betray one another. Hobbes’ main agenda, as with many that came before him (and likely after him), was to conceptualise the origins and further implementation of a successful theory of government.

The underlying assumption in his theory is that humans will someday succeed in implementing order. However, this idealistic view is merely a forced superimposition onto the primordial human condition of disorder, thereby creating a dissonance. It is the one fallacy in his conception. Camus also highlights the glaring paradox between human need and the silence of the world.

Further naïveté is seen in Hegel’s theory of the Absolute Spirit’s triadic journey, which ends with the synthesis of the thesis and the antithesis. This Hegelian path also presupposes a destination that displays sustained peace. This triadic feature of the Geist is rendered futile if the human condition is always against sustained structure. It is hoped here that one day, the various dissonant human consciousnesses will co-inhabit the world, but historically, there has been little evidence for such unity.

IV

One of humanity’s first great experiments was called ‘Monarchy’. Laws were created, but who oversees them? Someone who would be a chieftain, a king, a leader of the people. To further justify the king’s rule of law, the church accorded him divine origins. Of course, a supranatural heritage was intended to keep society in check, from what I surmise, is the human condition. Practically, did this organization of ‘Monarchy’ work? France’s history of monarchy and revolutions tells us of a different story.

Then, if I speak of theocracy, I simply speak of abstractions as the overseer of society. Sooner or later, someone will mistake this reliance on divinity for weakness and overthrow the structured government. The Chinese invasion of Tibet is one such example. The same is said of Authoritarianism, which, while attaining some of the ideals of ‘order’, is incompatible with happiness and freedom. Finally, democracy comes into the picture. To its credit, democracy carries quite a bit of the ‘workmanship ideal’ that Locke propagates in his early-enlightenment view, that the earth is available to all, along with all of its creations.

In conceiving this, Locke and the early Enlightenment thinkers resisted the primogeniture laws of kingship. A paradigmatic turn. However, the question is, for how long? From the vantage point of absurdism, political structures, even democracy, which is the latest formulation in this multi-generational experiment of order, will gradually decline.

V

Democracy itself is not without faults, either. Plato himself criticised democracy as prone to being ruled by people without the necessary political wisdom or ability. Giving equal power to every individual is a dangerous game. This is evidenced by many governments throughout history that started as democracies and gradually descended into madness. Weimar Germany stands out as a prime example, with its slow decline into Nazi dictatorship.

Moreover, Plato’s idea of a Philosopher-King is just hollow naïveté. He assumes that this level of wisdom can be maintained across generations, but this is historically disproven.

Also, by what criteria does one determine an individual to be a Philosopher-King? Additionally, any period of so-called ‘peace’ in a country is short-lived, for soon, a Philosopher-King of a much lesser will take the throne and dissolve this ‘peace’. One needs to only take a look at Marcus Aurelius, who was the last great Roman Emperor, compared to his much lesser son, “Commodus”, who led the Roman Empire into decay. To my knowledge, even today, there has not been a definitive manual for the selection of a Philosopher-King. What philosophies must he read or study? What political acumen, in exact terms, must he possess?

Such uncertainty borders on absurdism. Humans, at their base, are still driven by self-interest. Crawling over each other to get ahead in life, only prohibited by a thinly (and gradually becoming thinner) stitched veil of structure. The inability of these governments to hold peace for long is not a failure of the structural architecture, however. The common denominator is ‘humans’ and their condition of disorder. Hobbes’ conception of humans in a pre-government, pre-structural world as selfish and egoistic is absolutely apt. Humans are often bound to their primordial instincts, despite the structural veneer of civilisation.

Later, after the pillars of structure were laid down, a few fringe groups attempted to ‘civilise’ the rest. The effort is commendable. Their only flaw was a tragic hope that this structure would bring sustained peace. A historical analysis says otherwise. In the beginning, I briefly mentioned the idea of ‘entropy’. This scientific concept declares that every isolated system, turned away from the cosmic chaos in this universe, is gradually moving towards disorder. If political structures are also hopeful isolated respites from chaos, then they, too, are subject to entropy of a kind.

As minuscule organisms, in cosmic terms, we try to find meaning in the form of structured political ecosystems of this world. This peace, however, is temporary. The structure, too, eventually undergoes entropy, and at the end, turns disorderly. Chaos, ergo, is the only ultimate truth. Thus, it is no wonder that the ancient Greeks conceptualised that it is morally wrong to birth children into this world, for it is all suffering, and it is not within our rights to subject another life to this world. This is what is known as antinatalism.

VI

Then what does one do with the world? Perhaps we can simply let the world be.

Notably, this is not a call to Anarchism, however. I do not propose the periodic overthrow of governments (unless it becomes a disease). This is simply, as aforementioned, an intellectual exercise. ‘Letting it be’ or political resignation is simply letting the world play out as it plays out. Once the understanding of the human predetermined chaos is put into play, the constant agitation of a futile desire to sustain peace may be eliminated.

> “The absurd is born of this confrontation between the human need and the unreasonable silence of the world.” > — *The Myth of Sisyphus* (1942)

Camus’ dialogue here shows the dissonance of trying to fit structure into an unstructured truth. However, this view of absurdism proposed in this essay chooses resignation over Camus’ revolt. Resignation is tragic wisdom. One is aware of the world’s meaninglessness and is bound to accept it for what it is, periods of hope and despair. It is neither naive idealism nor destructive cynicism.

Unlike Camus, who calls for a revolt against meaninglessness and to take charge by rejoicing in rolling the boulder up the hill (*Myth of Sisyphus*), whereas resignation is to sit by the boulder acknowledging that it will always roll back down. It is a meditative letting-go, and a quiet acceptance of things as they are, finding joy in not the fight against meaninglessness, but in the ubiquity of the void.

A quiet acceptance and resignation of the disordered world may be the remedy for today’s political fatigue. This is not a call to apathy, however. A quiet acceptance does not mean absence from decisions. It simply is a peaceful acknowledgement of disorder. We must still rise, even in the face of inevitable disorder, if this same disorder continues for too long without successful intervals of order and peace. It is not surrender, in Camus’ terms. It is a victory, through transcendence.

The political structures decline, too. Therefore, relentless search for infinitely sustained peace, as humanity has endeavoured for, is fruitless and unnecessary. So, why do we still create structures? In spiritual terms, perhaps it is a metaphysical ritual. In existential terms, perhaps this disorder frightens society. Evolutionarily, order has utility. An ordered society is infinitely more amenable than a disordered one. However, the illusion of infinitely sustained order is just that — an illusion. Eventually, everything tends to revert to chaos.

Regardless, even in peaceful acknowledgement and resignation to the entropy of political structure, we still owe it to each other to make the periods of peace more expansive and longer-lasting than periods of inevitable chaos.

Finally, instead of a conclusion for this essay, I leave it off with a resignation, for I do not know the answers, even in this thought experiment to understand our absurd world. If chaos truly is the underlying nature of the universe, one can find reconciliation in a form of absurdism, in simply resigning (peaceful acknowledgement but with readiness) to the inevitable entropy of all political ecosystems. Outside of this hypothetical absurdist lens, I certainly hold on to the hope that this disorder is not simply an absolute truth of this world.