Once upon a dark December evening in the year 2020, your correspondent sat down to ponder the New Year by writing a meditation for his "newsletter" on the subject of "resolutions."
It had been a challenging year for himself and for most everyone else in his life. A plague had befallen the planet, and governments had responded with bumbling force, closing borders, pausing "non-essential" commerce, encouraging (sometimes coercing) humanity to hunker down in their homes and wait out the scourge.
As your correspondent sat at his computer contemplating the personal and collective catastrophes of the year, he found himself at a complete loss for what to type.
Suddenly, a voice grumbled from just over his shoulder:
"Ahem"—our writer jumped in his seat and turned around to see a mousey old man with white, wiry hair and a sad mustache—"My own advice, should I be so bold as to extend it, would be to start with a thorough analysis of the words."
Writer: Thomas, you scared me!
Thomas Hobbes: And rightly so. One ought to be frightened by specters of their own mind, particularly when they begin to speak. But let us not dwell on the insanities of those who are prone, like yourself, to wander through unregulated fancy—I've come to help you think this through. Tell me of your chain of thoughts, would-be writer, and I shall guide you rightly towards resolution.
And so our correspondent rose from his chair and welcomed the jolly Beast of Malmsbury to join him on the couch for a cup of tea.
Would-be Writer: I've decided to start a newsletter for friends and family. I'm trying to write the first one, but I have no idea what to say.
Malmsbury’s Beast: A dangerous venture, putting thoughts to paper, particularly when commenting on the news of the day. Might I ask what possessed you to endeavor such a letter of the news?
Writer: A friend inspired me, and it sounded like a fun way to keep up conversation with people I love. But I don’t really intend it to contain much news, to be honest. We’re all trapped in our homes right now, so there’s not much going on, and in any case, public news is nasty and brutish these days. I’m thinking it will be more like weekly meditations on an idea or a thought.
Beast: But if you harbor no intentions to share or discuss news then why ever would you misname it as a “newsletter”?
Writer: The service I'm using to publish these calls it a newsletter, so I'm borrowing the term from them.
Hobbes’ face fell.
Hobbes: Bother! I spent so much effort trying to convince people to take the definitions of words seriously and to employ their terms properly. Knowledge is contained in language, and if a man does not use his words correctly, he cannot know anything of use. It seems that after all my hard work, men still copy each other’s locution willy nilly.
Writer: Well to be fair, women do, too. Wait, your “hard work” was about words? I thought your whole thing was that life would be miserable chaos without a strong dictator at the head of a powerful government. In fact, when someone's viewpoint on humanity is a bit too negative, we call them "Hobbesian."
Hobbes: An insult!
Writer: How would you prefer to be remembered, then?
Hobbes: As a champion of the best methods for attaining useful knowledge, a practitioner of science. My contributions to mathematics are my proudest achievement, along with my application of science to human affairs through the process of strict definition and careful reckoning of the consequences of words. The light of human minds is perspicuous words, and I’d hope to be remembered for intensifying their luminescence.
Writer: Well I’m sorry to say you didn’t get what you wanted.
Scientist: Do save your apologies. I'm accustomed to receiving insults and false accusations. At my age, one ceases to be bothered.
Writer: You seem very bothered to me.
Scientist: My dear man, I am nothing more than the remnant decay of your own shallow acquaintance with a small portion of my writing––an echo distorted by your fancy. Any bother I betray belongs to you alone!
Imaginer: But then...am I the one saying you’re not bothered, too? This is so confusing.
Scientist: Flights of fancy are bound to confuse more than to edify. But let’s put this absurdity aside and select an object to guide our train of thought. Tell me, fanciful man, what non-news do you sit down to meditate upon this fine winter’s eve?
Imaginer: Well, it’s the first week of the new year, so I thought it might be fun to meditate on the idea of resolutions.
Scientist: Ah yes, resolution, a fine concept, meaning “the final sentence of a train of thought or discourse.” But I do prefer the word “judgment” in most cases.
Imaginer: Wait, that’s not right, I don’t mean “resolution”––I mean the plural, “resolutions," with an "s.”
Scientist: Why ever would you consider an abstract noun in the plural when the singular concept would do just fine?
Imaginer: I don't mean the idea of "resolution" in the abstract—I mean the practice people have at New Years of making resolutions for the upcoming year.
Scientist: I'm not familiar with this practice. It sounds like nonsense. “Resolution” refers to the ending of a train of thought, so I can’t imagine what you mean by, “for the coming year.”
Imaginer: It's not a resolution like a judgment — more like a goal.
Scientist: Then why don't you just call it what it is and say "goals" to avoid the ambiguity?
Imaginer: There’s no ambiguity in the word for us. Everyone knows what you mean when you talk about “New Year’s resolutions.”
Scientist: I see. Well then do give me examples of some such “resolutions” so that I might determine for myself whether this is a proper use of the word.
Imaginer: Oh for most people it’s always one of the same few resolutions: to exercise more, lose weight, save more money, prioritize family and friends, and so on.
Scientist: And what brings you to a meditation on this topic, writer?
Writer: When I was young, it always felt like New Year’s resolutions were something you had to make. It was like an expectation, and everyone would talk to each other about their resolutions. But then as I got older, more and more people seemed skeptical of making resolutions.
Scientist: And wherefore their skepticism?
Writer: Not many people actually stick to their resolutions. It motivates them for a few weeks, maybe a few months, and then by March, no one talks about their resolutions anymore, and hardly anyone is sticking to them. Lots of people I know have grown cynical of the practice.
Scientist: If what you say is true, then such cynicism is justified. These resolutions sound to me like a dangerous abuse of language.
Writer: I have no idea what you mean by that. How does making a resolution abuse language?
Scientist: To tell oneself or someone else of an intention and then fail to enact that intention makes the statement a misrepresentation. If one says, “I shall walk,” and then proceeds to sit instead of walking, their prior statement constitutes falsehood. Meaningful words make society, knowledge, and communication possible. An unfulfilled promise misuses words and harms the integrity of communication, which abuses language. The more abuse our words suffer, the weaker they become.
Writer: You are quite dramatic for a seventeenth century word-reckoner.
Reckoner: I neither dramatize nor exaggerate, sir, but only reason precisely. To reason is to reckon the consequences of words, and by my reckoning, the consequence of misusing words is an end to their usefulness.
Writer: I’m curious, Thomas –– if you could make an end to the practice of New Year’s resolutions, what would you replace them with?
Thomas:Nosce teipsum! Read thyself! Consider first what passions drive you, second, the object of those passions, third, the usefulness of those objects, and, fourth, how to strengthen the passions that guide you towards useful objects.
Writer: Passions? I thought you were more of the passionless, analytical type who valued intelligence over feelings.
Thomas: Intelligence is of little concern because humans are rather equal in their abilities to reason on matters important to them. But they differ greatly in their passions. Where one fails to reason well and another succeeds, the difference is only in the strength of their love of good thinking. This passion arises partly from temperament and partly from education. To prepare for the New Year, I would have you read yourself like a book, consider where your passions are weak or misguided, and seek to educate your passions accordingly.
Your correspondent wanted to query good Thomas on what he meant by “passions” and on what it took to “educate oneself,” and even to ask for practical examples rooted in your correspondent’s own life, but before he could...
***THE EXPLOSIVE CRASH OF A SHATTERED WINDOW DISRUPTS THE GENTLE DISCOURSE OF OUR INTERLOCUTORS WITH A VIOLENCE THAT SHOCKS THEM INTO SILENCE***
Outside the former window, looming in the dark, our writer and his Beast beheld an armored figure sitting atop a horse and holding aloft a rusty shovel.
A coarse voice sounded from below our correspondent’s view of the figure-in-arms. “Why didn’t we just knock, Señor? ‘Get a foot in the door before you ask for bread’ is what my grandmother always said. I’m in great need of bread to eat, and I never heard her saying anything about knocking through a wall of glass with a shovel...ummm, I mean ‘lance,’ though now that I mention it, I don’t think my grandmother ever saw a wall of glass before… Maybe if she’d seen one––”
“Silence, Sancho!” The man atop the horse shouted, firm though frail, “Have you ever heard of a knight errant merely knocking on the door of an evil wizard? There is no such tale in all the world, I assure you, and we have not come to ask for bread. A knight must be strong in his resolution to fight the powers of darkness, and what better way to demonstrate my passion for saving the delicate and splendiferous Dulcinea from the grasp of Malifato than to drive my lance through his wall of glass just as I shall soon drive it through his heart?
“Now behold my strength, Sancho, as I leap from Rocinante’s back through this opening and drive my lance into Malifato’s heart.”
The knight errant made a motion as if to leap through the window to join your correspondent and his Beast where they sat, but one foot caught in the leathers, and he tumbled onto the ground.
“Your grace!” cried Sancho. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” the man responded through a fit of coughs. Your correspondent heard armor clanking as the knight got to his feet. “Very well, tie Rocinante to the rail there, and we’ll enter through the door.”
Beast: What fools are these that you’ve summoned, writer?
Summoner: I didn’t summon anyone!
Beast: Of course you did. The world of these words is at your capricious command. What would you have us do?
Writer: I’m still in shock, but let’s stay. I want to see what happens when they come inside.
Thomas Hobbes bowed his head, obedient as every fictional representation of a historical figure must be to his author.
Your correspondent heard clanging at the door and figured the knight must be banging it with the shovel. Eventually, the knight gave up, and your correspondent heard a simple knock of knuckles on the door. He rose bravely and opened the door to these roguish guests. He was greeted by two men, one tall, armored, and aged, the other short, plump, and mustachioed. The elderly one spoke.
“I am Don Quixote de la Mancha, and I come with firm resolution to destroy the evil wizard Malifato once and for all so that I may rescue her grace, the luminous Dulcinea of Toboso, from his grasp. I intended to knock down these doors with my lance to prove my resolve, but this petty peasant you see behind me knocked before I accomplished my task. I see you are but a lowly peasant. I command you to lead me to Malifato immediately!”
Writer: I am sorry sir Knight, but there’s no one else here but myself and this jolly apparition of a man who spent his days reckoning the consequences of words.
Quixote: Lies! Move aside at once!
Your correspondent moved aside, and the Don gasped when he laid eyes on our wizened Thomas.
Quixote: Malifato! Your disguises don’t fool me!
The knight rushed at Thomas and grabbed him by the throat.
...to be continued.
___
Thank you for reading! I’d love to hear any thoughts this week’s meditation brought to mind for you.
This scene will be continued later in January, but next week, expect something completely different! Gotta switch things up to keep it fun ;)
Until next week,
Josh
P.S. For any interested, I’ve based Hobbes’ thoughts on Part 1 of his Leviathan, “Of Man.” It’s an engaging, mind-expanding read, and I highly recommend it to anyone whose curiosity was piqued by this dialogue.
I loved this!!!! I could even hear the old man's voice in my head! I need to go read this book now. Your writing just gets better and better!!! ♥️♥️♥️