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Page 1: Glimpse of Light: New Meditations on First Philosophy
Page 2: Glimpse of Light: New Meditations on First Philosophy

GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

New Meditations on First

Philosophy

STEPHEN MUMFORD

Bloomsbury Academic An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

LON DON • OXFORD • NEW YORK • NEW DELHI • SY DN EY

iii

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Bloomsbury Academic

An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

50 Bedford Square 1385 Broadway London New York WC 1B 3 DP NY 10018 UK USA

www.bloomsbury.com

BLOOMSBURY and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury

Publishing Plc

First published 2017

© Stephen Mumford, 2017

Stephen Mumford has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identifi ed as the Author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,

including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers.

No responsibility for loss caused to any individual or organization acting on or refraining from action as a result of the material in this publication can

be accepted by Bloomsbury or the author.

British Library Cataloguing- in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN : HB : 978-1-4742-7952-9 PB : 978-1-4742-7948-2 e PDF : 978-1-4742-7950-5 ePub: 978-1-4742-7949-9

Library of Congress Cataloging- in-Publication Data

A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

Cover design: Clare Turner Cover image © Stephen Mumford, 2016

Typeset by Refi neCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk

iv

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Contents

First Meditation 1

Second Meditation 23

Th ird Meditation 47

Fourth Meditation 73

Fift h Meditation 93

Sixth Meditation 111

Objections and Replies 133

v

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vi

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First Meditation

Some 200 miles inside the Arctic Circle in the north of Norway

sits the island city of Tromsø. On the larger neighbouring island

of Kvaløya there is, aft er some distance and turns, a tiny

settlement called Bakkan. It consists of four houses on the slope

down to the fj ord. Th e road stops before the village with the

journey completed on foot.

I have a friend, Petter, who built one of the houses. From

his kitchen window he has an uninterrupted view across the

fj ord to the angular mountain- tops beyond. On the edge of

the water, he also built himself a small wooden cabin in which

he could sit and do his thinking. Th e interior is equipped in only

a basic manner. It contains a raised bed, a stove and a writing

desk that sits under the window. From that spot, you can look out

across the herring- rich waters, cold and silent. Th e stove is

essential in the harsh winters when temperatures rarely climb

above freezing.

1

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT2

It was to this simple cabin that I retreated one winter to

confront my most pressing doubts. Th ese were many and

growing. For some years I had pursued my studies dutifully. Now

I thought they might all be for nothing. I could no longer deny

that I was mid- life. I needed time away, during which I could

decide whether I should continue with philosophy, or give it up

forever.

To have a friend such as Petter, possessed of this distant refuge,

isolated from all my professional obligations and societal ties,

had provided the perfect opportunity for escape. So it was that

I’d asked Petter to host me in Bakkan, permitting me undisturbed

occupancy of his little cabin. Within, I could use my solitary

confi nement to meditate upon the matters that had troubled me

so. A fellow philosopher, he understood that.

I wished for little attention. Solitude had become the most

valuable commodity these past years, in which Bakkan promised

to reward me with riches. I knew Bakkan. But never before had I

visited in January when the sun remained absent all day long.

Nevertheless, I was guaranteed a warm welcome from Petter and

his family and hoped it would outweigh any chill wind or snow

fl urry that came my way. As I carried my small case along the icy

trail approaching their home, led by Petter, I saw the rest of them.

Marie presented herself fi rst, reaching for my gloved hand

and holding it with hers. ‘Takk for sist,’ came the traditional

Norwegian greeting. I wish we had something like it in English.

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FIRST MEDITATION 3

It says that you remember a nice meeting previously, as in ‘thanks

for last time’. Th e children also came out to see me. I had known

them since they were infants. Solan was now nearly as tall as me

and his sister Ragnhild was even taller, both with blond hair

protruding from beneath their woollen hats.

Snow and ice, darkness and stillness formed the backdrop to

our hurried greetings, then we were quickly away up to the

house, seeking its warmth. I had travelled long. Now I was in a

place where at late- aft ernoon the only light I could see came

from the moon, the stars, and a dim glow from the few houses

across the water.

Tea was served as we caught up on pleasantries. I liked these

people from Bakkan. Th e neighbours, Inger and Odd, were well,

I was told. Th e other two houses now had new occupants, an old

man and a young lady, both alone. Maybe I would meet them.

Ragnhild would soon be off to further her education and Solan

was doing well too. She was interested in veterinary medicine.

He wanted to make fi lms.

I was not here for a holiday, though; nor to waste time. I had a

sense that aft er fulfi lling my duty to chit- chat and catch up on

any family news, I must set to work on my task. It was a task of

the greatest magnitude. I was there to think about the biggest

challenge in my career – to my academic being – and one that, I

knew, threatened to render it all forlorn. Without resolving it

here, I could not go on.

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT4

I steered the conversion on to the cabin, dropping the hint

that I was ready to go down there and settle in. Petter was

prepared. He had made me a wholesome bread loaf which I

was told to take, along with a block of cheese and an ostehøvel

to slice it.

I had no objection. Th ough always unceremonious, the

hospitality was generous in north Norway and I knew that unless

I had everything I needed, I would leave excuses for the family to

visit and interrupt me. Indeed, I had to emphasise, not for the

fi rst time, that I wanted no visits when down there by the water,

lest my concentration be broken by worldly matters. My

preoccupations concerned loft ier subjects from which I could

not be diverted.

Petter took me down the 100 yards or so to what would be

my home for the next six days and nights. Th e small hike at

times threatened to land me on my rear through a combination

of steep gradient and ice underfoot. But it was negotiable with

care.

Th e cabin was as basic as I remembered and, as we entered,

no warmer than the wintry weather outside. Petter lit a

candle, set it on the table, and then quickly went to work on

lighting the stove. He explained each step for me as he went

along, putting in paper, kindling and fi rewood in a specifi c order

and quantity. But I was not a good listener concerning practical

matters.

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FIRST MEDITATION 5

Instead, I looked around my sparse quarters. Th ey were cold

and damp, having remained empty all through the winter. Th ere

were few comforts. And that was fi ne.

A nautical map adorned one wall. Th ere was a small bookshelf

with only a single book upon it, laid fl at. I quickly fl icked through

it: a novel by Knut Hamsun. My Norwegian wouldn’t be good

enough to read it. No matter. By the time I had found a resting

place for my bag in one corner, unpacked my notebook and

pencil and placed it alongside the bread and cheese, the fl ames

were starting to take and it gave us some more light, though not

yet any heat.

Petter showed me the big basket that fi tted under the bed. It

had a few small logs in it. ‘Th ere’s not much fi re wood for you

here. I’ll send someone down with more.’

I nodded approval. Th ere was no point in protesting. Without

gas or electricity here, no luxurious glazing or roof insulation, the

stove had to be fed. Th e room would be intolerable otherwise. My

comfort – even my safety – depended on the proper functioning

of that simple stove.

‘So, Ben, tell me,’ questioned Petter, ‘Why have you come all

this way to Bakkan, and asked to be left alone in my cabin?’

I owed at least some explanation, given the generosity of

my host.

‘Problems,’ I off ered, as an inadequate opening. I was coy in

presenting my concerns. I wanted to make it clear that I was not

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT6

there to talk the matter over but to think it through. Yet he

remained silent and looked at me for more.

‘You see, Petter, I am starting to wonder whether I should stay

a philosopher anymore.’

‘Really? And why’s that?’

‘I have doubts,’ I explained, getting only gradually down to the

issue.

‘I’m starting to fear that . . ., well, . . . that I’ve been wrong

all along. And what is a philosopher to do if he realises he is

wrong?’

‘Go and hide in a cabin?’, Petter suggested, with a mischievous

grin.

‘Not quite that,’ I assured him. ‘But at least I should think very

hard about whether to continue. I’m too old to come up with a

new philosophy that contradicts everything I’ve already said

before. No one would take me seriously aft er that.’

‘And so?’

‘So here I am. I’m giving myself these six days – possibly six

fi nal days – to fi nd some certainty . . . some clarity . . . for what I

believe in.’

‘And if you don’t?’

‘Th en I don’t,’ I responded. ‘. . . And then there’s nothing to go

on for.’

Th ese things matter to philosophers. I didn’t have to tell

him that.

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FIRST MEDITATION 7

Aft er dwelling on this for a moment, Petter looked at me more

seriously: ‘Do you want to tell me what your doubts are, then?’

‘Not yet,’ I answered. ‘Th e fi rst thing I need to do – hopefully

tonight – is to make concrete to myself exactly what the worry is.

If I can formulate the problem, it might be the fi rst step to a

solution.’

Petter nodded.

Seeing that he was not really needed anymore, as I had all that

I’d requested, he politely bade me farewell and left the cabin,

making one last protest that I was not really as old as I thought. I

was grateful for that courtesy.

Cold air rushed in as he opened the door: an indirect sign that

the stove had started doing its job. I went out with him to watch

him make his way safely back up the icy hill in the direction of

his warm, family home. At least he didn’t have to share my misery,

which I was willing to isolate.

* * * * *

Finally, I was alone. I exhaled the relief of one who had travelled

far, arrived, and shut the door. With many miles behind me, over

land and sea, I had time at last to refl ect on the true causes of my

being here.

Staring out over the fj ord, I recalled the reasons and arguments

that had produced this unexpected crisis of confi dence. Did it

really mean that my life’s work had been for nought?

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT8

Th e fact was that I had, in many articles and books over the

years, developed a philosophy of realism. Th is said that our

interests were not the measure of all things. Indeed, I had stated

that we were but one small part of the natural world.

I could sum it up like this: things existed whether we thought

of them or not. Knowledge of the universe was something

obtainable to us, though this did not mean that we could know

everything. Science was the best way to uncover many truths but

I did not believe it answered every question. Th ere was still a

place for philosophy, which remains our best hope of

understanding the general nature of reality, in an abstract kind

of way.

We were right to have a sceptical attitude but not to hold a

sceptical philosophy. I fi rmly believed there was a world outside

of our own minds, for example, and I even thought that we could

know and understand a substantial portion of it.

But all around me there were challenges. Many didn’t like my

view. How could we be so sure there were such things existing

apart from us? We only infer the reality of other existents from

our own experiences, my opponents protested. Doesn’t that

mean that the only thing we know about with certainty is

experience?

Metaphysics made the mistake, I was told, of assuming we

could think and talk about the world itself, rather than just

thinking about the words or concepts we must use in order to

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FIRST MEDITATION 9

grasp it. Aft er all, there are clearly diff erent terms on which we

might conceptualise the world. We could divide it up in all sorts

of ways. Aren’t those divisions then arbitrary? We think of the

arm and the hand as two distinct things, but why should this

mental division be made at the wrist? Couldn’t it have been

at another place instead, if we had diff erent concepts for the

world?

I had ploughed on in my professional life and developed my

own programme of work but all the time I knew I had nagging

doubts. I felt I’d had to set them aside. No longer. Was my realism

being built on sand? Could anything really be known other than

my own mind? And did I even know that? Th ere was just one

thought or feeling and then another. How did I even know that

there was a ‘self ’ having those experiences? Might even I not

exist?

Sceptics had annoyed me. Th ey seemed unreasonable and

stubborn. Th eir philosophy led nowhere. And, yet, did I have an

answer? A proof?

Consider money, for example. How could this be anything

other than a social construction? We have these small slips of

paper and metal coins that seem to mean so much to us. People

will do almost anything to get them. Money has a value, we are

told, which is sometimes so great. Yet this monetary value is

nothing but what we as a society have chosen to give it. Perhaps

we need not have created money; and I can conceive of a time

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT10

when we decide to have it abolished so that we can live in a

diff erent way. Now money is real, of course, but it is real because

we have constructed it and it would not exist but for that. And

over times, social practices can give money reality even when it

exists only as numbers against a bank account.

I am part of the society which has conspired to create this

thing we call money, which exists only because of such a

conspiracy that sustains it. It seems it would be a folly on my part

to challenge this reasoning.

Th e sceptic’s challenge can go even deeper.

You might say that the metal or paper from which money is

made is surely real and could remain behind even if all life on

Earth were to cease. Scepticism would thus go only so far, one

might think. But I’ve known even this be challenged. Metal,

paper, wood, plastic: these are all things that exist because we

have categorised them. Without us, what is the world? A

collection of particles, such as electrons and protons, buzzing

around, colliding, forming partnerships. Beings much smaller

than us, or much larger, would see the world in a very diff erent

way. Where we see diff erence, they might see sameness. Where

we see sameness, they see diff erence. What about the objectivity

I had defended in my realist philosophy? How can that be

justifi ed?

Some say that virtually everything is socially constructed,

even tables and chairs, cats, planets, plants, rivers and mountains.

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FIRST MEDITATION 11

I met one man who said that electrons did not exist until 1897.

But once they were ‘discovered’, they existed and had always

existed.

I pointed out the absurdity in this way of understanding. It

generated a contradiction for it implies that in 1800 electrons

both didn’t and did exist. How was I to make sense of what I was

being told?

My concern was dismissed. ‘Contradiction is an artefact of

logic’, he insisted, ‘and we created logic too.’

I couldn’t argue conclusively against that. I knew there were

diff erent systems of logic, with diff erent uses and applications.

Could I really assert that there was a truth about the proper steps

in reasoning? Or does anything go?

I didn’t know why these problems were worrying me now in

particular. I had always known them. I’d put them to one side

because I wanted to make progress. I had been an ambitious

young man, publishing books, developing a system, earning

recognition and promotion. It had gained me a degree of

academic respectability and a comfortable life.

Perhaps it was just my age, then. Once I had passed fi ft y, there

was no point pretending I was young anymore. Early in life, it’s

rare you hear of one of your contemporaries dying. Th at had

changed. You know that you will not live forever. Some old

friends had already gone. How long was left ? Twenty years? Ten?

Five? At some point, you have to stop and face the truth. You

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT12

cannot lie to yourself. To understand the world before you die is

all that really matters. It was now the only meaning I could give

to my existence: to know the truth.

If the sceptic was right, I would content myself with that. It

would entail that the constructive philosophy with which my

name was associated was without basis. And then there would

really be nothing more for philosophy to say. So be it. I would

spend my remaining days making pottery or weaving baskets.

Philosophy had not given me much relaxation, aft er all. Now I

could redress that defi cit. Th ere was still the opportunity.

Petter was a philosopher too. Would I tell him if I concluded

it was all a waste of time? No. He should do what’s right for him.

If there is no objectivity, let each man, woman and child enjoy his

or her path, as I would my pottering.

Still . . ., in these six days in Bakkan, there might yet be an

answer. Left alone with my meditations, I might come up with a

response. And if I know that my world is built on solid

foundations, then I would be right to promote my views to

others. I could write more books; leave a legacy to future

generations. Th ey would read of objective realism and how

reason was our salvation. I might even tell them of my time here

in Bakkan, when I discovered the ultimate answer to the sceptics.

I would have a new lease of life, all cynicism banished. With

Petter, I could discuss metaphysics, logic, ethics and aesthetics.

Perhaps we might even write something together.

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FIRST MEDITATION 13

I quite liked that prospect. It sounded more fulfi lling than

basket weaving. And yet, I still couldn’t opt for it just because it

would be a pleasure or it might progress my reputation. I would

be lying, not least to myself, if in truth I thought there was no

objective reality.

I looked at my watch and realised I should eat. I took up the

big knife I’d been given and cut into the dark and grainy bread. I

sliced some cheese and sat it atop. Silently staring across the

water, in the moonlight I could just make out the little houses on

the other side of the fj ord. I sat and ate.

‘Th is is my task,’ I thought to myself. ‘A decision must be made

by the time I leave.’

* * * * *

Aft er a second slice, I dusted off my hands and took up my

notebook, retracing my line of thought and writing it down. I

was here to think, rather than write, but I knew that unless I

recorded my ideas, I would oft en go over exactly the same path

again, each time presuming it was the fi rst I’d been there. With

my notes, I could start back the next day at the point I had

previously left off . I now had to recall all the steps I had just taken

while they were fresh in my mind.

As I was occupied in that way, I heard some footsteps

crunching the snow outside. Th ere was talking and giggling. Th e

cabin had a second small window, which was in the door. I stood

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT14

and looked to see that it was Ragnhild and Solan. Between them,

they dragged a sled, which they brought to a rest. I waved and

they saw me.

Ragnhild cleared the recent snow from a natural ledge that

was about waist high from where she stood. Solan reached in the

sled and produced a big chunk of wood, which he passed to

Ragnhild and she set it down on the ledge.

He reached in again and this time produced a small axe,

light enough to wield with one hand. He passed this too to

Ragnhild and she immediately set about chopping the block

of wood into smaller pieces. I looked down at my stove. It

had a glass door on the front through which I was to feed the

logs of fi rewood. Th ey were making them small enough for

me to fi t into the stove. I put back on my coat and scarf and

dragged out the basket that Petter had pointed out to me was

almost empty. With it, I stepped back into the cold Arctic

perpetual night.

‘We will make sure you have enough for a few days,’ Ragnhild

reassured me, and Solan gathered what had been chopped so far

into my basket.

He set out another big log for his sister to chop in half. She

lift ed the sharp axe above her head and then quickly smashed it

down, cleaving the wood before her. I was impressed. Despite the

harsh climate, this family was the picture of physical health,

strong and skilled.

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FIRST MEDITATION 15

Moonlight caught the sharp edge of the axe head. My eye

followed it as it rose in her hand. Th en – Smash! – it came down

again and the wood fl ew apart.

Th e strikes increased in frequency and Ragnhild was soon

going through all the wood they had brought. Solan said

something in Norwegian to his big sister. He wanted a turn and

she gave him the axe. Now he was showing us what he could do

with it, not raising it as high as she had, nor getting as much

power in the blows, but still he had enough for the blocks to be

chopped up and swept into the basket I had waiting.

We were all wrapped up against the cold but I could see that I

was now the only one feeling it. I was merely a spectator while

they took their exercise, their hot breaths being visible as they

met the outside air. With a few more minutes and a couple of

dozen chops, my basket was full of useable wood.

It was heavy, perhaps more than I could carry, but Ragnhild

took one handle and we lift ed it together back into the cabin.

Solan followed us in with the remaining wood. I was sure I could

chop it alone, next time, but I was told that the axe was needed

back home. I should let them know if I needed more to be

chopped.

Here I was, dependent on two minors for my survival.

Ragnhild opened the front hatch of my stove and saw that

there wasn’t much wood left to burn in there. She reached for

some of the freshly cut logs and started bundling them in.

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT16

She liked to display her competence and made sure I could

see that she knew precisely what she was doing. Solan, meanwhile,

had jumped up on the bed to sit. I had only two chairs in my

temporary home.

I felt like I had visitors but it was, of course, I who was the

guest. Th is cabin had stood here since Solan was about two- years

old. I wondered if he realised in what an exceptional place he had

grown up. To me it seemed exotic, even magical. To them, it was

normal to spend two months each year without seeing the sun.

Bakkan could sometimes get extremely cold. I thought that it

was still warmer than it had any right to be. It was almost the top

of the world, level in latitude with northern Alaska. Were it not

for the Gulf Stream, which made it even up here, the area would

be virtually uninhabitable.

Even now, with the fi re lit in my cabin, the cold had made its

way into me. I could feel the warmth from the stove on my face

and hands, but the bones inside me still felt a chill. It set me to

wondering whether I did right to come here for my thinking.

Was the cold or heat better for the mind?

Western philosophy had begun in ancient Greece, of course,

where it was probably a good idea in the summer to sit and do

nothing but think and talk. Would I be able to do the same in a

winter climate or would my brain freeze up? I had come seeking

reclusion, primarily, which I still hoped to obtain once my fi re

had been suitably rejuvenated.

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FIRST MEDITATION 17

‘Try not to go out any more than necessary,’ Ragnhild

mentioned, with a grin. ‘If you got lost in the woods, you would

soon be turned to ice.’

‘Don’t you worry,’ I reassured my young friends. ‘I fully intend

staying in here as much as possible.’

‘But make sure that you are not tempted out and off into the

woods by the Huldra,’ added Solan, sounding excited.

His sister smiled, and felt compelled to tease me more.

‘Yes, stay away from the Huldra while you are here. If you see

her at your door, don’t let her in. And never follow her into the

woods!’

‘Th e Huldra?’ I fi nally queried. I could tell they enjoyed

arousing my curiosity.

‘She’s a beautiful lady,’ Solan explained, ‘. . . and she will tempt

you. But if you follow her . . ., you will never be seen again.’

‘Oh,’ I replied, in a serious tone. ‘I will surely avoid her.’

‘You can tell it’s her because she has a tail,’ Ragnhild now

informed me with mock gravity. ‘She tries to hide it, though, so

you won’t be able to know her straight away. Make sure to look

for a tail.’

I chatted with them a bit longer, including hearing about the

time their grandfather met the Huldra. He’d had a narrow escape.

Aft er that, they wanted to know how things were back home. Th e

whole family had visited me a few years back so they knew of my

normal way of life. Th e children had fi rst learnt their English

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT18

there. Not much had changed since their stay except that we had

all grown older.

Th ey didn’t ask anything about what I was doing there in

Bakkan, staying over in the cabin for the fi rst time. Youth can be

very accepting. Maybe others before me had come and done the

same. It didn’t seem as unnatural to them as it did to me. Perhaps

I was having a once in a lifetime experience.

Th ere were more footsteps, trudging through the snow,

expertly avoiding the hazards. Marie’s face appeared in the little

window in the door and there was a smile.

‘Come in,’ I called, and once she was inside I continued, ‘Were

you worried where they had gotten to?’

‘Oh no,’ said Marie. ‘I was more thinking they were being a

nuisance to you.’

I believed this. Th e children had been free to wander around

the island all they wanted since they were very little. Th ey

respected nature but I never got a sense that they feared it. Not

even the Huldra, really. In contrast, I would no doubt be dead if

I was out there for as little as one hour.

‘Besides,’ Marie added, ‘I brought you some hot tea for the

night. Do you call it a fl ask?’

It was indeed a fl ask, in English. Norwegians get confused by

that term: for them, fl ask means a bottle. But I was very pleased

that she’d had the foresight to think of it. I didn’t want to be

trouble so hadn’t asked for anything but I could see that at

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FIRST MEDITATION 19

some point during the night a warm drink might be very

welcome.

‘How has your thinking gone so far?’ Marie asked. I showed

her my notebook and fl ipped through the few pages I had written

up before the fi rewood was brought down. In truth, I had not got

much done but that was to be expected. Tomorrow would be

diff erent.

Th ey all got up to leave and wished me a safe and pleasant

night. Donning their hats and gloves, they were soon out but

Solan paused and beckoned me.

‘Do you see that bright star?’ he said, pointing up above

a mountain further down the fj ord, in the direction of the

open seas. ‘Th at is Polarstjernen – the North Star. If you get

lost in the woods, always look for that and you will know

which direction to walk and come back home. Th e star is

always to your north. Th en the Huldra won’t be able to fool

you.’

I thanked Solan. Th ey soon were ascending the slope up to

their house in about half the time it would have taken me. Th e

path was rough and uneven, but they all knew every step.

I retreated back in and shut the door for the night. No lock

was needed in a place like this, so there was none. Still I thought

I would rest and sleep much easier had the door been secured. I

would just have to try not to think about it. A reindeer couldn’t

turn a door handle, anyway, could it?

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT20

Before taking to my bed, I fi nished off writing up my notes

from the earlier meditation. ‘Can we answer the sceptic?’ I wrote.

‘What mind- independent reality would be left , if any, were we to

take away sapient beings from the world?’ Th ese were my

questions.

With that, I decided the day had been long enough, aft er most

of it spent journeying. But it was also very easy to feel sleepy with

all the hours of darkness here. My mind, and then my body, were

telling me it was bedtime.

I had been warned that the stove would not last the night. I

could get up every few hours to reload it with more wood and

keep it going. Or I could just sleep in something warm and go

right through the night. I was so tired that I opted for the latter

but put in as much new fi rewood as I could fi t before I fi nally

turned in.

It felt a bit like I was sleeping in the wild, with none of my

regular home comforts of modern living. I was now situated

fully in nature and considered whether there would be bugs or

spiders under the covers. But I wasn’t even sure such things could

live through the winter here so I put it out of my mind. Despite

wondering what I would do to pass the time if sleep would not

come, I was awake only for a few more minutes.

But that was not quite the end of the fi rst day.

I was disturbed in the night, coming only gradually to

consciousness from what had been a deep sleep. My nose

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FIRST MEDITATION 21

was like ice. But that was not it. Something else had awoken

me. I felt it fi rst: an irregular vibration that seemed to shake the

cabin.

Th is wasn’t just a movement. It was a sound – a deep and

pervading one: a wailing, crying, moaning. At times it seemed a

heavy breathing. I had not heard the like before. Was I dreaming?

No. I was sure. But then I couldn’t make sense of it either.

Was I disorientated in this alien environment? But I was

certain I was aware of my other surrounds clearly and distinctly.

I could feel the warm bedding against my body and cold air

against my face. Th e fi re had gone out and the darkness was

engulfi ng. But still I heard this irregular noise, which seemed to

be reaching out across the whole fj ord.

I did wonder whether to get up and try to light the fi re. But I

remembered that it would mean lots of trouble with paper and

kindling; and standing there, poking and venting it. If I stayed in

bed, I could keep the heat trapped inside my blankets. And that

was also a reason not to get up and stand at the window, looking

for the source of this unexpected disturbance.

Besides, Petter had told me that a whale visited every year: a

humpback. Th e fj ord was deep and full of fi sh and it came

to feast during the winter. I’d never heard this sound before

but I’d been lucky. Th e whale was visiting along with me. Its song

was another aspect of my commune with nature. What did I

expect?

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT22

It might have continued some time more. But I don’t know.

Aft er the initial surprise, having drawn a rational conclusion

from it, the world was aright again. I felt myself drift ing back to

sleep. I decided that, for the duration of my stay, I would regard

the whale song as my lullaby.

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Second Meditation

I slumbered for some time, waking and then sleeping still more. I

had no sense of time in this darkness but knew that if I looked at

my watch I would then stay awake no matter how early it was.

Eventually realising I had all the sleep I could take I saw that it was

aft er 8.00 and very late for me to rise. Had I wasted some of my

thinking time? So far, all I had done was articulate the doubts I

had suff ered. I was here to fi nd a solution, if there was one. If not,

I was to accept the pointlessness of my life: wasted thus far. But

then it need be a waste no more aft er Bakkan.

Determined to set to work, and that this day would be a

positive one, I jumped out of the bed into the freezing coldness

that had taken over the cabin. I couldn’t work without warmth

so, once a candle was lit, my fi rst job was to get the stove going.

Scrunched up paper and small chips of wood were good for a

start. Once that was lit with matches, I could put in a bigger

piece: one of the logs.

23

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT24

Th e paper burned well but I put on the log too soon. Was

there not enough oxygen, or too much? I had a little air vent I

could open or close. Had I used enough kindling at the right

time? It was clearly failing so I made a second attempt. More

paper and kindling and time.

I couldn’t really do much more than stand watching the stove,

checking if the fl ames were taking hold. I sat a little kettle on top

but it was far from warm enough to make my tea. I drank some

that was left in the fl ask but by now it was only lukewarm. Tea

was one luxury I couldn’t do without. As soon as the fi rst log was

burning, I thought I had better introduce a second and make

sure it kept going. Th e fl ames lit the room through the glass

window on the stove’s frontage: a warm orange glow. But not yet

cosy. It took some time for the cabin to feel warm and then for

my water to boil.

I drank the fresh tea and put on another small log, surprised at

how quickly they burnt out. But aft er consulting my watch once

more I realised that I had been devoted to the stove’s lighting for

more than an hour. I wanted to leave the cabin and visit my hosts

but didn’t feel I could until I was sure the stove would burn

through my absence. If it didn’t, I would need to recommence the

lighting process all over again.

Outside, there was fresh snow from the night: lots of it. At no

point as I slept did I have a sense of it falling. Nevertheless, the

tracks back up to the house, which had been there yesterday,

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SECOND MEDITATION 25

were now almost entirely covered. Th ere were only the slightest

indications of where they had been. I tried my best to follow

them, and thus avoid any perils off the beaten track, but it was a

struggle.

Sometimes I sank down to my knees. At other times I slid

back. Th e grips on my boots weren’t really up to the job. Nor were

they high enough. Barely covering my ankles, by the time my

ascent was complete, my socks inside were entirely wet and cold.

‘Ho, ho!’ came the greeting when Petter fi rst saw me through

his kitchen window, struggling up to his house. He was amused

at this ill- prepared foreigner’s battle against Mor Jord . Yes, I

was used to a comfortable city life. For this week, at least, I had

turned my back on it. My decision was sound, though. All the

distractions back home would never have allowed me all this

time for refl ection.

Inside, I shook the snow from my shoes. Marie was there too

and there were smiles all round: smiles of relief, perhaps.

‘So you survived the night?’

‘Yes’, I replied, by self- verifying utterance. ‘I actually slept

really very well. I was a little unsettled at fi rst but I was soon

asleep. I think I was tired aft er the travel.’

Th e door opened again behind me and there was another ‘Hi,

hi.’ It was Inger, come up from the second house in Bakkan.

‘Takk for sist!’

‘Takk for sist.’

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT26

‘I saw you walk past us.’

Th eir house was closer to the cabin than Petter’s was.

‘You fell over a few times,’ Inger noted.

‘I did.’

‘How was your fi rst night in the cabin?’

I had to repeat my tale. ‘Yes, it was fi ne. I slept well. I was just

telling Petter and Marie. But today I really will get some serious

work done.’

‘Are you writing?’ she asked.

‘Well . . . yes. Th inking and writing.’ It was too complicated to

explain exactly what I would be doing in the cabin. Nor did I

want to burden these folks with my personal crisis. Best just to

say I’m writing, I thought.

‘You really must let us know if you need anything. You can

wash in our house, if you want, Ben. And you can work there as

well, if it gets too cold in the cabin.’

She called me Ben and I had to remind her that I preferred

Benedict.

‘Th at’s very kind of you, Inger,’ I professed, but I had no

intention of working there. Inger and Odd were alright, but they

wouldn’t understand how important these six days were to me:

how my life would be changed at the end, one way or the other.

I had my morning wash in Petter’s house, where I had also

kept my clean clothes for changing. Th at way they didn’t get

frozen during the night. Tea was made and I was glad to sit and

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SECOND MEDITATION 27

drink it in a warm kitchen with Petter, Marie and Inger before

heading back to my solitude.

As I was about to leave, I remembered to say something.

‘Oh, did you hear the whale in the night?’

My question was met with blank stares. Th en they glanced at

each other with unrevealing faces.

Petter broke the silence.

‘No.’

I felt like I’d said something stupid.

‘I heard it in the night. It woke me up.’

Th ey listened. No one seemed to want to interrupt my tale so

I felt I had to fi ll the silence.

‘I didn’t know what it was at fi rst. It was a wailing sound. It was

very loud. You must have heard it.’

‘Th e whale was here last month,’ Inger explained. ‘January is

too late in the winter for it to come.’

Inger was a marine biologist. Th e local economy depended on

fi sheries. I could muster no argument against her expertise.

‘And we’ve not known it come back once it’s left . Not until the

next winter, anyway.’

‘So none of you heard it?’ I decided that this would be my fi nal

protest.

Th e others shook their heads.

‘I suppose you might have slept through it. But it was so loud.

Have you ever slept through it before?’

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT28

‘It’s possible,’ conceded Petter. He seemed willing to listen,

though added ‘It’s hard to know what you have missed when you

are sleeping. So you might be right. We are used to whale song in

the night. It could have woken you because you’re not.’

Th at seemed a good explanation to me. And it was polite to be

conciliatory. In any case, it didn’t really matter. I was just making

conversation and I really shouldn’t get annoyed with my kind

hosts just because they missed something that, with my sharper

ears, I had heard. I was pretty sure I had.

I explained that it was time I was off back down the hill to my

second day of meditation and, yes, some writing, if the spirit

took me. With that I was gone. It was easier going downhill and

only a problem if you tried to stop. As I got nearer to the cabin,

though, I started sinking in snow up to my knees again and I was

slightly self- conscious at the thought that they might all be

watching me from the window.

I was back just in time. Th e stove was almost out but by

feeding it some more wood and air, I was able to salvage the

fl ame without starting all over again. Finally, I was ready to begin

work. I tried to forget that half of the morning was already gone.

Now I recounted all my worries from yesterday, all my

sceptical doubts. I browsed over my notes. Some think that there

is nothing of which we can know the objective existence.

Everything, they say, could be in our minds only, and constructed

by us. I had been pursuing these thoughts last night, until

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SECOND MEDITATION 29

Ragnhild and Solan came to chop my fi rewood and tell me about

the Huldra. I had found no obvious answer by that point.

I stared out of the window and my thoughts began to wander. I

was surprised to fi nd that there was light this morning. Th e sun did

not shine on Bakkan but clearly it was not far away from doing so.

I could see it on the higher mountain-tops in the distance. With a

bigger impact than that, it lit up the sky and the clouds above us,

announcing that it would soon arrive. Th e colours in the clouds

were astonishing, changing according to their varying textures and

thickness, especially at the edges.

I could see back down almost to the end of the fj ord. And

it was from there that the light was coming. In an isolated

place – a gap between two mountains – the sky seemed blood-

red. At home, my horizon was fl at. Here, it was sharply up and

down, delivering an impression of distant light that I could

contemplate. I was lost in the experience. It seemed that if the

sun did appear right now, I would be blinded. Partially obscured

to me, I could appreciate the beauty of its eff ect without seeing it

directly.

My mind felt freed of all external encumbrances and in that

state delivered to me some unexpected associations.

I recalled a conversation I’d had with a sceptical gentleman

some months ago. Perhaps it was this incident that had started

my recent problems. Th e man was a distinguished scholar though

of another fi eld entirely, not philosophy. It seemed like he had

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT30

read some related texts, however. We somehow got on to a

discussion of causation: what it is for one thing to cause another.

I started to push my regular realist line. Th ere were facts of

causation, I insisted, which were real whether anyone knew

about them or not.

Th ere were statistical methods that sometimes revealed a

raised incidence of some feature, such as when people who drink

from a particular water pump come down with cholera more

than those who drink from other sources. Th is indicated a real

causal connection between drinking the water and a serious

illness, I argued. Perhaps some cases of causation go undetected,

I allowed, but they could be real and there nevertheless,

irrespective of the evidence. Th is was the realist position. Th e

reality of the world was not dependent on human knowledge of

it. Our beliefs had to match the world rather than the world

being a creation of those beliefs.

Th e gentleman sat and listened but I could see the quizzical

look on his face, even on the occasions when he nodded. Finally,

having heard me out, he mounted a counter- argument. He

started by saying that he simply did not believe in causation.

‘How can you not believe in causation?’ I instantly protested,

and that was when he explained.

‘You see, I think it is all just a social construction. We

experience many events – one thing and then another – and we

make sense of our experience by putting it in a causal order. But

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SECOND MEDITATION 31

we can never say that the causal ordering is something in the

world itself. It’s just in our way of thinking about the world.’

I was annoyed, but I wouldn’t say astonished. I was all too

familiar with this line of thought. I’d heard it before in other forms.

‘And you say it’s a social construction?’ I asked, for clarifi cation.

‘Yes. Like everything else. It’s not an individual thing. Some-

one on his own did not have the power to produce this

conceptualisation of experience. It’s a social phenomenon. It is

the way that people in our culture categorise certain aspects of

the world.’

‘So there could be another culture that didn’t understand the

world in causal terms?’

‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘Th at’s perfectly possible. Th ere could be a

society – and there might actually be one – in which they accept

that one thing follows another, and perhaps it even does so

regularly – but they don’t accept that one thing ever causes or

produces another.’

So causation wasn’t real, he concluded, other than how we

make it. And he rested his case, with some satisfaction, convinced

that I would have no plausible argument against it. I admit that,

at the time, I did not, and it irked me to be unable to respond.

Was this the reason I now found myself in a cabin, in the

wilderness, pondering on the matter of what we could know and

what we couldn’t know? Had so simple an argument undermined

the whole strength of my realist conviction?

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT32

It was time to put another small log in the stove so I reached

into the basket of fi rewood that Ragnhild and Solan had kindly

chopped for me.

It was coincidentally at that moment that a new argument

struck me and I saw the details fall into place. If there was one

thing that could not be a social construction, I realised, it had to

be causation. And if anything at all was socially constructed,

then there had to be real causation in order for it to be so.

I sat back and carefully thought through the line of reasoning.

If it was sound, then I had found a new fundament on which to

rest my realist philosophy, and all was saved.

A claim that causation was socially constructed seemed to me

impossible.

In the fi rst place, the view is meant to be that causation is

socially constructed . But to construct is a causal verb, which

means that I cannot understand the claim as anything but that

society has made the idea of causation: it has created it. And

what does this mean other than that society has caused the

notion to be? Now the absurdity is apparent. Society would have

needed causation to exist – to be real – in order to have

constructed it. So the claim of the social construction of causation

seems to fall apart. Causation would have to be real in order for

that to work. But if it is real, it defeats the very claim that is made.

Now suppose my sceptical opponent tries to defend his

position. When he says that society constructed the idea of

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SECOND MEDITATION 33

causation, he doesn’t literally mean that society caused causation

to be. Th at would be to concede defeat too quickly. Perhaps all

that is meant, however, is that once the notion of causation was

constructed, it applied also to the account of how it itself came to

exist. So when it is said that society constructed causation, it does

not mean that we literally made it but only that we have come

together to agree that we did.

But this seems to be hopeless for my opponent. Th e only sense

I could make of it is the idea that we did not really construct

causation at all. We only agreed to say that we did. So it is not a

social construction. My opponent would thereby be giving up

his own view. Rather, we have only conspired among ourselves to

pretend that the concept of causation was constructed.

Th at would be a very diff erent theory. Even if it were true, it

would impinge on the issue of the reality of causation not one

bit. What does it matter to the world what we agree to say or not?

But I conclude, instead, that regardless of any other sort of claim,

causation itself could not have been socially constructed. Only if

causation were real could it have been so; but then that contradicts

the sceptic’s claim.

Th at is bad enough.

But, in the second place, the claim was that causation is socially

constructed; that is, constructed by a society.

Now it strikes me that this too is a signifi cant view and

deserves some scrutiny. For, by my understanding, a society is a

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT34

plurality: a grouping of many individuals. But it is more than just

a plurality. To count as a society, those individuals must form an

interacting plurality. And here I can apply some similar reasoning

as before. If causation is said to have been constructed by a

society, then causation must exist already in order for that group

of individuals to be a society. Without causation, not only is there

no construction, but it seems that there is no society either.

So any claim that urges specifi cally the social construction of

anything, is committed to the reality of causation aft er all.

I needed to think this through a little more and justify my

assumptions, as this new argument could be of crucial

importance. I had to know it was right.

Yet it seemed clear that a group of individuals is not a society

simply in virtue of being numerous. Imagine if I had ten men

and women picked at random from around the world and I

gathered them all together. I then placed each of them in their

own soundproofed cell with thick walls but I nevertheless made

sure that all their physical needs were taken care of. I allowed

them air, food and sunlight but I did not allow them to see each

other, talk with each other, or in any way be noticed between one

another.

It seems now that, even though these individuals are kept

within one vicinity, they in no way constitute a society. Th ey

cannot speak with each other and each keeps thinking and

ordering food and drink with their own native language. Th ey

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SECOND MEDITATION 35

cannot get together and talk with each other about, for instance,

whether it is good or bad to live within these cells. Th ey cannot

rise up together to overthrow me, their captor, or perform any

other kind of joint action. Th ey cannot create any impression on

each other at all. Th is, to me, is not a society.

Societies are bound together by the fact that they interact.

Th ey converse with each other and, in virtue of that, develop a

common language. Th ey share values to an extent but can also

challenge them and debate them. Th ey get in each other’s ways

and have to negotiate compromises and shared norms for living

together. To be in a society is to be aff ected by those around you

and, in turn, to aff ect the others. Were your society to make no

diff erence to you at all, to have not shaped or changed you in any

way, then you really are not a part of it.

Interaction is thus essential to society. It cannot be a society

without it. And yet to interact with something is to be caused to

change by it and, in turn, to cause it to change. Without causation

there is no interaction and without interaction there is no society.

So I can conclude that without causation there is no social

construction of anything, which confi rms my earlier fi nding.

Th is struck me as an argument containing such certainty and

impact on the debate that I immediately started recording my

chain of reasoning in my notebook. I wrote a heading: Societas

ergo causalitas . If there is society, then there is causation. Th is

defeated at least one signifi cant form of scepticism. It told me

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT36

that not everything could be socially constructed, for one thing,

so it seemed a matter of necessity that at least something

objectively real – causation – must exist independently of us and

our practices.

New possibilities were opening up to me. I felt a degree of

optimism for the fi rst time in a while. Even the sky seemed

lighter than before. But I had a sense that this was not the end of

it and I could reason to other signifi cant conclusions from this

solid starting point.

* * * * *

I would have progressed immediately to other such thoughts

were it not for the scrunch of approaching footsteps in the snow.

It seemed that someone was coming to interrupt me already and

I straight away realised that it would be greatly perturbing if I

were to never regain that chain of reasoning. Something of

immense signifi cance might then be lost to me forever. I had

already made sure that I had all that I needed in the cabin and

was more than clear to Petter that I desired to be left alone.

I stayed sitting at the desk with my notebook, my back turned

to the door. Th ere was nevertheless a knock upon it, which I

could not ignore. I turned to see no one that I recognised but,

instead, a perfect stranger.

I opened the door and my visitor came straight in, uninvited:

a young lady. ‘Hello,’ she said, ‘Biret.’ I did not know it but later

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SECOND MEDITATION 37

confi rmed that this was her name. She off ered me her hand,

which I held and then gently shook.

She brought the cold in with her, about her body, but

nevertheless removed her hat, gloves and coat without the slightest

prompting and sat upon the chair on the far side of my desk.

‘I thought I would come and see you. Petter told me about you

and I thought I should say hello.’

‘Welcome, I’m Benedict,’ I responded, ‘and it’s very nice to

meet you.’ I could not be impolite to a friend of my hosts.

‘I’m in the blue house,’ she explained, which was behind Inger

and Odd’s, a little further up the hill. ‘I’ve been staying there for

just a little while.’

She was young with bright, lively eyes. Her English was unsure

and hesitant, though I knew it already to be far better than my

own Norwegian.

As I would expect in Bakkan, she wore no make- up. Her hair

was straight, dark and mid- length, looking as if the winter gusts

had been throwing it around. How could I take off ence at her

natural beauty, here, amid so much of nature? I looked down at

my own clothes: rumpled and dowdy in comparison. Nor had I

shaved.

She asked what I was doing here.

‘Just writing,’ I said. ‘I’m a philosopher.’ But I was already tired

of explaining my presence so steered the conversation on to her:

how was she, what was she doing today, and so on.

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT38

She had dark colouring and features, especially her eyebrows,

and she didn’t seem to look to me like a typical Norwegian; not

that I would ever want to enquire into matters as personal as

appearance.

Fortunately she volunteered the information that she was of

Sami background. Samis tended to be darker, or so I was told.

Western Europeans used the term ‘Lap’ and spoke of the area of

Lapland but I had been in Norway enough times to know that

these names were not the ones Samis preferred. Some names

were considered insensitive and, for all I knew, derogatory; so I

stayed clear of them.

‘My parents moved, for work, just aft er they married. I grew

up south of here,’ she told me, ‘but I am going to live in Kautokeino

to learn the Sami language properly and to be surrounded by my

culture.’

Her plans sounded to me naïve. To have such a goal in life

seemed to mean very little when I had been wrestling with

my grand philosophical problems. I was tormented by some

of the biggest questions ever to face humanity. But could I

really criticise anyone else whose life had meaning, as it seemed

Biret’s did? I was here precisely because my own life may have

no meaning at all, if it turns out I’ve been living in a fantasy.

My earlier breakthrough had given me hope that I was not, but

it was all still to be settled and I didn’t really have time to be

sociable.

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SECOND MEDITATION 39

‘Is it all that important to learn the language?’ I enquired. Was

that rude of me?

But no, she seemed to take it with good will.

‘Our culture has been oppressed. We have been marginalised,’

she told me. ‘It is my duty to learn the language so that Sami

culture will survive and grow.’

I really couldn’t argue against that. Here I was, from a culture

that historically had oppressed so many others. And there was

she, seeking to defend a culture that could easily be lost to the

world. So I nodded.

Yet I also loved Norway. Was it Norwegians who had been

cruel to Samis? I would have to ask Petter or Marie. But I was

impressed at Biret’s spirit and sense of the political dimension of

her choices.

‘What else was there to Sami culture apart from the language?’

I asked. Th e question was genuine. I had momentarily forgotten

philosophy and was inquisitive to learn something from my

temporary interruption. I doubted I had met a Sami before.

‘We feel close to nature,’ she said, although that seemed to

apply to everyone in Bakkan, by my lights.

‘Th e climate is harsh in Kautokeino. A tradition of storytelling

began in winter nights when the light had gone away. I want to

study literature.’

I could understand the point about the darkness of winter.

Th e sky had lightened and entertained me around mid- day but

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT40

now was black again. Here we were, talking by the light of the

stove and a candle. Yet this light was comforting and cosy. I could

easily imagine on a night like this that someone begins telling a

story that grows and develops over time, with repeated telling,

becoming eventually a favourite. Th at would be a nice way to

amuse ourselves now, with so few other pastimes, apart from the

company of another human being.

Th e fl ames looked to be going down. Biret jumped up and

grabbed another log from the basket. She opened the door and

placed it atop the embers. Th en, when she closed the door, she

opened the vent at the bottom to send in more air. Th e fl ames

rapidly grew and took hold on the new log. Her skill with the

stove was impressive and she had looked aft er us well – looked

aft er me – ensuring we would remain comfortable.

I put the kettle on top of the stove. ‘Would you stay for some

tea? It’s been rude of me not to off er,’ I conceded. But it was too

late now.

‘Th ank you but, no. I have things I must do. Will you be here

until Soldag?’

‘Soldag?’ I queried.

‘Th e day the sun returns: February the fi rst.’

I recalled my travel plans and replied that ‘Yes, I will be here

. . . Petter has invited me to dinner that evening. It’s my last night.’

‘I will be there too,’ she added, ‘for dinner,’ and with that she

went to leave.

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SECOND MEDITATION 41

I surprised myself by urging her to ‘Call again.’

Had I broken my self- imposed rule of solitude? And would I

do the same for Petter or Marie or Inger? Probably not. No

matter. I couldn’t dwell on questions such as those now. She was

gone and that was it. But I fi rst watched her climb back up the

snowy slope in the direction of her home. As with Petter before,

she ascended eff ortlessly. I had struggled so. She had power and

speed but also the confi dence of having trodden that path other

times before and knowing she would succeed.

I sat back at the desk, the cabin now quiet. Th is was what I

wanted. Solitude. I could settle back to work. Where was I? Oh,

yes: societas ergo causalitas .

* * * * *

It was at least an hour before I was able to advance my thinking

any further. I sat looking across the fj ord at the glimmer from

the houses over there. Below them was a line of refl ected

light pointing straight at me, shimmering as it bounced off

the water. I looked at my candle. It didn’t need replacing. But

I did have to put more wood in the stove. Th e pile in the basket

was going down surprisingly quickly. I would need more

tomorrow.

So a society could not be one without causation, I had found.

It was no society without interaction. It struck me that there

could be a further step that continued this argument.

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT42

Language was one of the things that held a culture together.

Biret had taught me that in the case of Sami people. She wanted

to learn the Sami language so that she could properly partake in

the heritage of her grandparents. But use of language too requires

social interaction.

I had heard someone argue how one solitary individual could

never create or use a language on his own. Or her own. For then,

she would never know for sure whether she had used a word

correctly or merely believed that she had done so, mistakenly.

Only if there are other users of that language can there be any

stable meaning. Other language users can correct someone who

misuses a word. Th is provides the normative dimension of

meaning. A word ought to be used this way; and ought not to be

used that way. If there was only one user of the Sami language,

then it would have eff ectively died out already. For that one user

might just be misremembering how a word ought to be used –

what it ought to mean – and no one could challenge her. How

sad that would be.

Language must be, therefore, a social phenomenon. And while

causation is not a social construction, language most certainly

is. I had already concluded before that if there was anything

socially constructed, then causation had to be real. I could now

add to that interim fi nding. If there was any language, there had

to be a society, and if there was a society, there had to be causation.

One could argue, therefore, from the existence of language to

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SECOND MEDITATION 43

the real existence of causation, which depends for its being on

an interacting community.

I might have settled there, and declared it a good day’s work. I

was hungry and knew I had more bread and cheese. However,

one fi nal step seemed within my grasp and I could not let appetite

allow it to slip through my fi ngers.

Language is crucial to thought. While some things might

qualify as thought and not be linguistic, I think that most of it is.

I think largely in words; and there are certain things I could not

think unless I had words for them. I might feel hunger in my

stomach, but could I really think that I wanted cheese unless I

knew a word for cheese, in whatever language it might be?

Some people say that thought is concept manipulation.

Th at might be true. And I think it is through exposure to

language that we acquire concepts. Words articulate the concepts.

Perhaps both ‘cheese’ and ‘ost’, within their own contexts, pick out

the same concept. I think so. But I needn’t settle that one. Th e

conclusion I was really interested in is that without language,

there would be very little thought or, you can say, cognition.

My best cognitive capacities are dependent on me being a

language user.

Without language, perhaps I might be able to anticipate that

someone is coming to visit me, such as Petter or Biret. But I

couldn’t anticipate that Petter is coming tomorrow or that a pretty

Sami girl is coming to dinner on Soldag. Only with a word for

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT44

tomorrow, or some combination of words that mean the same, can

I have thoughts about tomorrow.

Now when I put together all the day’s thinking, I could tell

that I had discovered a signifi cant chain of new reasoning. Th e

arguments could be lined up.

If there was any social construction – indeed, if there was to

be any society – then there had to be causation. And if there was

to be any language, then there had to be a society. I had now

added a third claim. If there was to be any thinking, then there

had to be language. So it seemed that thought implied language,

language implied society, and society implied causation.

I opened my eyes widely, staring incredulously, my mouth

also open. Had I just proved what I thought I had proved?

I ran through it all again. Was every step in the chain secure?

Was the chain unbreakable? Yes, it seemed so. Th ere were

supplementary premises at each stage but they seemed correct.

Th ey were defendable.

I took up my pencil and at the bottom of the page, in the

notebook, I wrote Cogito ergo causalitas . I underlined it twice.

Th ere is thinking, therefore there is causation. And I know there

is thinking. I cannot doubt that; for even to doubt is to think.

I can say with surety, therefore, that causation is real. It is. It

exists.

I had to spend a few moments savouring this conclusion, for

it seemed to have the power to change everything; to save me

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SECOND MEDITATION 45

from scepticism, to answer my critics. To salvage the world. And,

that done, I had reason again to stay a philosopher. Had I, so

soon, achieved the goal of my visit to Bakkan?

I sat for some timeless moments, contemplating in the

darkness, a feeling of satisfaction sweeping over me. Eventually, I

remembered the hunger and ate.

* * * * *

More footsteps approached the cabin and I stood up with a smile,

ready to play the host again. Th is time it was only Solan. ‘Is

everything alright for you tonight, Ben?’ he enquired. Th ey had

sent him down to check on me. He handed me another warm

fl ask to see me through. ‘Do you have enough water and

fi rewood?’

‘Yes, I will be alright,’ I reassured him. ‘But I might need more

wood tomorrow. It seems to burn too quickly. Am I using too

much?’

‘Don’t worry. Use all you need,’ he insisted. ‘You have to keep

putting it in if you want it to carry on going.’

‘Correct,’ I confi rmed. ‘It’s not as if you can use less and have it

cooler. If you don’t feed it wood when it needs it, the stove will

just die on you.’ But I don’t know who I thought I was to tell him

about looking aft er a stove. I’d only run it for a day. He seemed to

take it in good spirit, though. He was very grown up for a teenage

boy, and tolerated my misplaced attempt at patronising him.

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT46

He checked around the cabin and all was well. He moved to

leave.

‘Oh,’ I stopped him. I had remembered something. ‘Did you

hear the whale last night?’

‘A whale? No. Did you?’ said Solan.

‘I think so.’

‘Wow, then you are lucky. It’s not usually here in this month of

the year, and you got to hear it.’

‘Yes. At least I think so. But anyway, you’d better be getting

home. Take care out there.’

Th at was a satisfying end to the day. He ran back up the hill as

if it wasn’t really there. We both knew perfectly well that he was

in no danger at all. I was the only one who needed to take any

care.

I settled back into my snug cabin, ready for my temporary

bed.

Despite being tired, I didn’t drift off to sleep immediately. I lay

there listening. Would the whale be back again this night? And, if

it was, would everyone hear it this time? Th ey were wrong to

doubt me. I was pretty sure I was right. Th ey were missing out by

not believing me.

Whether it was there or not, however, I heard nothing at all in

the night. Instead I slept like a stone, solidly through, until the

start of the next day.

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Th ird Meditation

I was fi nally awoken by the shaking, creaking and banging that

the wind outside was creating in my little hut. A gale was in

progress. I needed to get up and light my stove but it was so cold

that I didn’t want to emerge from under my bed covers. Again it

took an hour from fi rst lighting the stove to knowing it was

established and only at that point could I make my fi rst hot cup

of tea of the day. I could feel an icy draught coming in and on

close inspection of the door I saw that there was a signifi cant gap

in the top corner, where it didn’t quite match up with the frame.

Th is was why the hut didn’t hold the warmth for long, once the

stove went out. But the gap was not quite big enough for any

snowfl ake to pass through.

Th en I battled my way up the hill, a strong wind carrying

snow horizontally into my face. During the short climb to the

house, my chin became numb. Impenetrable clouds made the

day darker than yesterday, even though we were closer to fi rst of

47

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT48

February, which I now knew to be the day Bakkan would see the

sun again. My last day here.

Calling on Petter and Marie, I announced my arrival by

showing off my newfound local knowledge. ‘Soldag is coming,’

I pointed out. Th ey confi rmed it, enthusiastically. I would be

lucky to see the sun re- appear. It had been away for over two

months, during which time they had lived through the extreme

darkness and bitter cold. Th e steps leading up to their front

door had been ice covered for the duration. Marie told me

she was very happy at the thought of the sun shining on them

so that she could see her doorsteps again. It was a much-

anticipated day, each year. But this winter had been especially

hard.

I told them how cold it had been in the cabin this morning

and that the wind had been shaking it. Th ey didn’t seem overly

concerned. I’m sure the cabin had withstood worse than that.

Th ey off ered me hot coff ee and, although I would normally

be a tea drinker, this morning I did not decline. I stayed as

long as I could but knew I needed to return to keep the stove

burning.

When I had everything I needed, I was off back down the

slope, which today was even more treacherous in that direction.

I had now learnt that it only became a problem downhill if you

tried to stop. You had to throw yourself into it, partially sliding.

Th e main real danger, as long as I did this, was that I would end

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THIRD MEDITATION 49

up in the fj ord. But soon I was sat back at my desk, still relatively

dry, and ready to start work.

By mid- morning, I hadn’t gotten too much done. I wanted just

to sit and think about my new cogito argument but the stove

needed lots of attention this day and I had to intervene several

times to ensure it didn’t go out. Just as I thought it was fully

established, and was ready to settle into serious work, I heard

footsteps coming down to me.

I jumped up hopefully and looked out of the window. It was

only Odd, Inger’s husband.

‘Hi, hi!’ he greeted me. It had been a little while.

‘Takk for sist, Ben!’

‘Takk for sist.’

I brought him in, keeping the door open for as little time as

possible.

‘Quickly,’ I said. ‘I’ve just got the stove going again.’

Odd was handsome, tall and dark haired. Like everyone I had

encountered here in Bakkan, he was the picture of health. One

would have thought that the harsh environment would wear

these people down, as I felt it was wearing me. But I had evidence

that the long- term eff ect of Arctic living was not detrimental.

Wasn’t it I who had become weak and enfeebled aft er all the

luxuries I enjoyed at home?

‘Welcome back to Bakkan!’, he told me. ‘You’ve been here a

few days, ikke sant?’

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT50

‘Ikke sant?’ is like the French ‘n’est- ce pas?’, which can be

attached to almost any statement in Norwegian. It’s a request for

affi rmation.

‘Yes. I’m working. But also enjoying the peace and nature.

How’s your own work?’

Odd was a physicist. We had talked before of science,

physics and philosophy, not always with agreement. We were

both seekers aft er truth but with some diff erent ideas of how to

get it.

‘It is good,’ said Odd. ‘My students are bright this year.’

I always admired the education system here. It was some

years behind the universities that I knew the best; but that also

seemed a good thing. Academic values remained paramount

still in Norway.

‘I hear you’re trying to solve all your problems here,’

said Odd.

Th is slightly annoyed me. Petter must have told him, or at

least he heard from Petter via Inger. What irked me was that Odd

had sometimes in the past suggested that philosophy was mainly

just about theories, none of which could ever be verifi ed, and

that philosophers couldn’t ever say that anything was true. He

seemed to suggest that there could be no progress in philosophy.

It agitated me even more that Petter never seemed to mind Odd

saying this. I understood it, at times, as if he was saying that

philosophy had no right to exist.

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THIRD MEDITATION 51

He had now found me at my weakest point, full of doubts that

I had openly confessed to Petter. Petter shouldn’t have told Odd.

No matter. If Odd had come down to gloat then it was about

to backfi re. He didn’t realise that I had already discovered the

answer to any major doubts, just yesterday, and it defeated the

sceptic with certainty.

I let him think for a little while longer that he was in the right

so it would be all the more satisfying when I unveiled my new

argument.

Finally I confessed. ‘Well, actually, I think I have made excellent

progress. I’m very pleased. I may have just put philosophy on a

new, sounder footing.’

Odd looked slightly startled. ‘What is that?’ he enquired, with

a tone of disbelief.

I proceeded to explain all my arguments from the previous

day in every detail.

I told him how causation, of all things, cannot be a social

construction because if there is to be any society, and if there is

to be any construction at all, they needed causation to be real. I

told him, furthermore, that language was essentially a social

phenomenon and thus it followed that the existence of language

was itself a proof of the reality of causation. Finally, I explained

how thought required language and that this produced my third

and fi nal argument. Given that there is thought, then I can know

causation to be real.

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT52

He let me develop all these points at my leisure, sitting in

silence for some ten or fi ft een minutes as I delivered my

impromptu lecture until I fi nally rested my case.

‘Hmmm . . .’ was all I heard. He stroked his beard, pondering.

‘What do you think?’ I pushed him, expecting some form of

praise, or at least concession. How could he not see the

persuasiveness of this defence of realism?

A beard was good to stroke, when thinking. It wasn’t just for

fashion.

‘Well, I’ve listened,’ he began. ‘But I’m not convinced.’

My high spirit was instantly felled.

He proceeded to tell me why.

‘When I look at physics, and learn more about it, some of the

mysteries of how the world works disappear. I start to understand

that nature has a mathematical structure, which we can describe

using equations. And with these, we are able to answer the sorts

of questions that you try tackling with your metaphysics.

‘What is really striking about this, is that in physics, we never

use the word “cause”. We never say things like “this causes that”.

Furthermore, your concept of causation is an inherently

asymmetric one. If A causes B, then B cannot be the cause of A.

But when I look at the equations of physics, I cannot see those

asymmetries. An equation can be read from left to right or from

right to left . Everything, in theory, is reversible, except perhaps

entropy, but that is controversial.

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THIRD MEDITATION 53

‘So I don’t think it is merely that we don’t use the word cause.

It’s clear that we don’t have anything that looks like causation in

our theories either. It’s not just that we are using causation by a

diff erent name. Th ere’s none there. You see what I mean?’

I remained silent, perplexed.

‘Th is shows what I’ve been trying to tell you for some time,

now, Ben. You cannot sit in your chair and discover any truths

about the way the world is. Only science tells us the facts about

the nature of reality. Philosophy is just conceptual analysis. You

can tell me what a concept means, for example. But only I can tell

you what actually exists in the world. It’s ultimately an empirical

question: it depends on the observed facts of the matter. And

unless you come out of this cabin and start observing the world

– taking recordings and measurements – you can never tell me

what exists.

‘So you might sit there and tell me you’ve thought it all

through, but I don’t believe you can use reason, unaided by the

senses, to conclude anything at all about what there is. Th at can

only happen if you look at the world.’

He hadn’t fi nished.

‘Physics is very mathematical and theoretical these days, I

concede. But all our theories have to respect the data. Th ey have

to be at least consistent with the observed facts. I cannot see

anything in your philosophy that meets such a standard. So if

you tell me you’ve discovered something, using reasoning alone,

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT54

I will remain sceptical. And if it’s not something that is part of

our best scientifi c theory, then I will outright reject it.

‘Science cannot be told by philosophy that causation is real,

Ben. Th at is a matter for science to settle. I think we already know

enough about fundamental physics to say that there is no such

thing as causation; ikke sant, Ben?’

‘Benedict,’ I corrected him.

I was somewhat taken aback by his onslaught. Did he really

know what he was saying? He had implied that what I was

doing – what every metaphysician was doing – was completely

worthless. We were wasting our time.

How could he not expect me to take this as an insult? It was

not as if I thought physics was valueless. I accepted its validity as

a discipline. Indeed, my realist philosophy was very supportive

of science. Why couldn’t science reciprocate? Did it think there

was no point to philosophy at all?

Th ere was a degree of ignorance behind Odd’s attack, I

thought. It seemed to me that he assaulted philosophy because

he didn’t really know what it was. If metaphysics were trying to

do exactly the same as physics – but doing it from the comfort of

an armchair – then his point was fair enough. But he was wrong.

Philosophy is not like that. It doesn’t answer the same kind of

questions as science. And it doesn’t have the same kind of answers

as science, either. But it frustrated me so much that people would

think this way, having so little regard for what I did.

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THIRD MEDITATION 55

I felt ready to say all this but Odd got up and made to leave. It

seemed, to me, a bit cowardly of him, to make his point and then

exit, presenting no opportunity for reply. Typical, I thought.

Farewell, he said in Norwegian: ‘Ha det bra.’

I had to remain on good terms with him. He was a friend

and neighbour of Petter and Marie. I couldn’t fall out with him.

But his arguments felt like an accusation of idiocy on my part.

Th at’s no way to treat a guest to the village. He is rude. Still, no

matter.

* * * * *

I tried getting back to work. I’d done nothing yet, this day. But it

was damned hard to concentrate. I kept thinking of the

conversation with Odd. Th e aff ront! . . . Th e insult!

I sat at my desk with my notebook open and the pencil in my

hand. But there was nothing to write. Th ere were no thoughts or

ideas. I just kept mulling it over. I’d thought I had solved the main

problems I was here to consider. Th ere was hope. But it was fl eeting.

My uninvited visitor this morning had come and dashed my

optimism. Damn, damn, damn!

Damn him.

Needing to compose myself, I went and stood outside. Th e

cabin had become warm, almost stifl ing, since Odd left . Outside

the air was cold; but it was fresh. Th e day’s little light was already

starting to fade. It lit the sky only hazily and from afar, not yet

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT56

casting itself directly on the ground on which I stood. Th at would

not be for a few more days: until Soldag, the Sun Day.

By my cabin was a small homemade pier, stretching out into

the fj ord. Now, for the fi rst time since arriving, I felt drawn to

tread upon it. Th e steps down carried some peril but I was

determined to make my way. Th e snow had stopped.

I walked out to the end. Th ough it was no more than twenty

yards long, I felt I was now standing in the fj ord itself. I turned

and looked back at the four houses of Bakkan, standing above

my hut: such a beautiful sight. But then I turned again and looked

out at the ocean. Th e wind swept sideways, threatening to take

me into the ice- cold waters. But still I had no fear. I took a further

step until I was at the very edge. I looked down, down into the

darkness.

Th e fj ord was deep, I’d been told. It looked bottomless. No

light could escape its freezing clutches.

Some years ago I had visited Niagara Falls. Th ey are high and

impressive. I was able to venture right to the fall’s edge. At the

side there was a plain footpath at which you can stand within

one stride of the very point where the water alters from calmly

gliding along the fl at riverbed to plummeting violently, hundreds

of feet on to the rocks below.

I could see how tempting it was for the eye to follow the water

as it reached the brink, or perhaps to keep fi xed to a leaf that had

been carried along, but then follow it over in its destructive

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THIRD MEDITATION 57

plunge to the bottom. I felt as though it was calling me in, and

only a small fence was in the way. Th en, as I talked to others who

lived locally, I heard that there were many instances of visitors

jumping in. With no prior warning to their friends or family,

with return tickets in their pockets, with meetings in their diaries,

they had spontaneously stepped over the fence and gone in. Next

time they were seen, they were mere remains.

And here I was in the north of Norway, staring into a similar

abyss. Was Odd right? Was my new argument ineff ective? Was I

in no better a position than when I had started? Odd seemed to

think so. And he knew I was there to work through my crisis.

Why would he want to crush my spirit that way? Oh, to be a drop

in the ocean . . .

* * * * *

Th ese few minutes outside were all that I could bear for now. I

was chilled right through. Although I had brought my warmest

possible clothing, and buttoned it all fully up to the top, it was

now clear that it was not really up to the task I had asked of it. I

scurried back up to the cabin and made myself some tea, which

I had with bread and cheese. I had to rally myself.

Was I going to admit defeat at the fi rst challenge from Odd?

Would I let him win and throw myself into the sea? Wouldn’t

he just want me to do that, and to take the whole of philosophy

with me?

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT58

I sat and thought again. I had to regain my composure: think

logically through the problems. Taking this approach yesterday, I

had found that my sceptical opponent had to use the very thing –

causation – which he purported to deny. He had to do this in order

to explain his position. He alleged the social construction of

causation; but social construction is the explanation of something

only if causation is real. So his approach was in no position

whatsoever to deny the reality of causation.

Returned to my sanctuary, belatedly I saw that exactly the

same kind of move could be used against Odd.

By this, I mean that it can be used against anyone who says

that science makes no use of causation, or that causation doesn’t

exist, or that its existence is an entirely empirical matter on which

I have no right to judge.

It seemed to me that, contrary to everything Odd had said,

science needed causation in order to be worth pursuing. One

could say that science itself was premised on the reality of

causation. It was then science that had no right to judge as to the

existence of causation. Science had already presupposed it. And

if causation was not real, then we should have no business in

performing science.

I had to think this through and make sure that I really had

turned the tables on Odd.

I could think of at least three ways in which the reality of

causation was a presupposition of science.

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THIRD MEDITATION 59

First of all, science claims that it can make discoveries through

the performing of experiments. Th ere are countless instances in

the history of science. I select just one. It is possible that we fi re

particles such as electrons or photons towards a barrier or plate

in which are cut two parallel slits, where this plate stands some

distance from a wall or screen behind. If we do this repeatedly,

we fi nd a pattern created on the back screen. Th is is known as an

interference pattern and leads us to think about how the particles

passed through the slits. Some have said that this experiment

reveals, among other things, the dual nature of light: that

sometimes it makes sense to think of it travelling as particles and

at other times it makes sense to think of it travelling in a wave.

Now an experiment such as this involves what we might call

an intervention. We have not merely sat and passively recorded

what was happening. We have stepped in and introduced a

change into the natural order of things. Th is means that we have

made something happen. We have fi red particles towards a

slitted barrier. A laboratory in which such an experiment occurs

needs a large budget. Science is not cheap. Th e justifi cation of

the research grant is that, using the money, they can actually

fi re particles. Th ey can make a pattern with them on the back

screen. Th e experimenter, then, is making things happen. Th e

intervention makes a diff erence.

Suppose some physicist, such as Odd, said that he didn’t really

believe in causation. Th en why would he need research funding

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT60

to perform his experiments? He would be admitting that nothing

he did aff ected the world. He would have to concede that he was

helpless to intervene. He was incapable of making a diff erence.

Th ere would then be no experimental method aft er all. It is hard

to see how anything could count as an experiment, under these

conditions, nor why we should make a fi nancial investment in

supposedly conducting one.

Th is point seems entirely general; not just about the double-

slit experiment. Suppose I work in medical research and want to

test a new drug. One way to do so is to put it to trial. I get two

large groups, sorted at random, and I give one group the trial

drug and the other group a sugar pill. I then record whether

more people get better who have taken the drug than those who

received only the placebo.

Without causation, though, how would the taking of the drug,

or the placebo, count as an intervention? Th e drug can’t be what

made some of those people get better; and then it cannot be what

explains the higher recovery rate in the drug group. Th at,

presumably, is something which just happens. Th e scientists

running the trial cannot then be said to have done anything.

Without causation there is no action. Why then should we fund

such a trial?

So my fi rst point is that much of science depends on the

possibility of interventions in the world. Th is is crucial to the

idea of experimentation. But intervention is a causal notion.

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THIRD MEDITATION 61

Th erefore, unless causation is real, there are no experiments and

this part of science is entirely redundant.

Th e second point makes the situation look still worse for my

opponent as it concerns an even bigger part of science.

Much of science starts with observation. Th is is what it means

for it to be empirical. It is based on the evidence of experience.

Scientifi c theories have to be at least consistent with the data,

as Odd had said. Th is evidence might come directly from the

senses, such as looking or listening to something, or it might

come indirectly, such as when we use a measuring device or

some instrument that assists observation. Among measuring

devices, I can think of Geiger counters and oscilloscopes. Among

things that assist observation, I can think of telescopes and

microscopes.

Now the point to be made is that nothing would count as an

observation unless causation were real. Th e senses would not

provide evidence of anything if they were just visions of the

imagination. What we see matters because, we have to presuppose,

those perceptions were caused by some state of the world, either

directly or via an instrument.

One scientist asks another, what is the temperature in the

room now? Th e second scientist looks at a thermometer on the

wall and pronounces ‘It’s 15 degrees.’ Th ere is one good reason

why it matters what the thermometer says, which is that some

fact about the room – its warmth – caused the thermometer to

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give that reading. Th is is why the reading counts as an observation.

Th is is why the thermometer delivers evidence, and provides

data. Furthermore, we trust that as the temperature rises, it

causes the reading on the thermometer to rise.

Th e same argument applies in the case of direct observation.

Observers recount that they have seen a dog, or a medical

scientist reports a kind of skin rash they have observed on a

person, this counts as evidence of something only because in

turn the dog and then the rash caused the observations. If they

didn’t, then the visions were only imagined or hallucinated,

which means that it would not count as evidence of anything

(other than a psychological dysfunction).

Furthermore, unlike the cases of imagination and

hallucination, scientifi c observations are supposed to be

objective. Th is means that anyone looking at the same place is

able to repeat the observation. So if a real dog causes an

observation, then other people will be able to go and look at the

same thing and see that it is a dog. Th e presence of the dog will

cause a dog- like observation for anyone who cares to look, and is

of sound mind. But this is not the case with an imagined or

hallucinated dog. If someone else goes and looks in that place, I

assume that they will not, with much likelihood, ‘see’ a dog.

Th e charge here, then, is that without causation, nothing

counts as an observation. Without causation, there is no empirical

evidence for our theories to follow.

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THIRD MEDITATION 63

But this is absurd. We really can observe things. Th is is all

because the objects in the world cause us to have certain

experiences which then can be used as evidence of what there is.

Causation is the basis on which observation has any value. And

given how much of science is dependent to an extent on the

evidence of the senses, science has no place at all in doubting the

reality of causation. Without it, we don’t really have any science.

Very good.

And then there is a third way in which science depends on

causation.

Science is a success, we are oft en told. And despite some of its

failures, I can on the whole believe it. Yet, what does this success

mean? It means that its discoveries have enabled us to do

benefi cial things. We have been able to build machines and other

technologies, achieve feats of engineering, fi nd cures for diseases,

and so on. Now how would any of this be possible if it were not

for the reality of causation?

Th e fi ndings of science matter, primarily – though not solely

– because we can do things with them. If the medical trial has

shown that people taking aspirin tend to get more relief from a

headache than people who don’t, then it gives me the opportunity

to take aspirin when I next have a headache. Why would I take it

unless I believed in the reality of causation? And, more to the

point, why would I do so unless I believed that science had

shown us that this drug causes pain to go away?

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So, aft er all the observation and experiment, the question is

why would science have any purpose if causation was not real? It

can make the world a better place only if it can change the world.

And it can change the world only if causation is real.

I have these three arguments, then, and they seem to show

that almost all of what science does is built upon a presupposition

of the reality of causation. Causation is the foundation of science.

No scientist, therefore, should ever try to undermine the claim of

causal realism, for that also undermines his own position and his

own practice.

Any scientist who tells me that he doesn’t believe in causation

is telling me that he doesn’t believe in his own discipline. No

longer could Odd claim that science has any validity as a method

of discovery, nor that it has any use.

Odd was completely wrong this morning, I had reassured

myself. If only he could hear my argument now, surely he

would then have to concede my point. How foolish he would

feel. Maybe it’s he that should go throw himself off the pier,

not me.

I thought that I really must pause my thinking now and note

all of this down, before I forgot the precise line of argument and

let Odd off the hook. Who knows, I might get another

interruption. So I made sure I did record it all in my notebook

and I felt that the day had seen me achieve another victory over

scepticism.

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THIRD MEDITATION 65

* * * * *

Th at night I enjoyed my dinner. Ragnhild brought me down a

basket that contained some carrots as well as a small carafe of

wine. I had cracker bread with brunost, a sweet brown cheese. I

savoured the fl avours aft er a few days with a very plain diet. I was

told to let them know if I needed anything more and I felt happy

and cared for.

With a full stomach, I might have called it a day and taken to

bed. I looked at my watch and thought it might soon be time.

However, the day was not done at all.

I heard more footsteps and wondered whether Ragnhild was

bringing me more provisions. But the face that appeared at the

window in the door was Biret’s and I was happy to see her.

‘Come in, please,’ I said. ‘How nice of you come and see me

tonight.’

On removing her coat, I saw she had a dark red dress on,

which I found charming. Th e only bright colour I had seen

since arriving was the sun shining into the clouds yesterday

morning.

‘Did you have a good day?’ Biret enquired. ‘I saw Odd earlier

and he told me things were not going well.’

‘No,’ I protested, maintaining some level of jocularity. I made

light of it: ‘Th e day started with some challenges but I feel I’ve

overcome them. I was down but now I am back up.’

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‘How strange it must be to be a philosopher,’ she noted. To me

it was normal. But then, life in the Arctic was normal to her, and

to all these residents of Bakkan. It was foreign to me, but getting

less so with each day I was here.

‘It’s just the way I am,’ I explained. ‘I like to think things

through. I like clarity. I want to understand.’

She saw that my stove was almost out. I had thought of

running it down for the night. But she crouched down and set to

work on it immediately. Again I admired her skills. She knew

exactly when to give the stove more air, more wood, and how the

introduction of the two should relate.

‘And are you coming to understand life in Bakkan, yet, Mister

Philosopher?’

She was teasing me slightly. But I didn’t mind being playful

this night. I decided to give her question a serious answer.

‘I think I understand that the return of the sun is important.

People seem excited about Soldag.’

‘You are right,’ she agreed. ‘Th e sun is very important to us,

and in Sami culture too. It gives us light, warmth and food.’

I allowed myself a romantic fl ight of fancy. ‘It makes you

wonder . . . How must our ancient ancestors have felt up here

when the sun went away and would not return for two months, or

more further north? Did they fear that it might never come back?’

She listened carefully. I could tell I held her attention, so I

continued.

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THIRD MEDITATION 67

‘Did they pray for its return? I would understand if they did.

Th eir science was not advanced. Now we know the exact time we

will see it again, this February fi rst. But they would not have

known when it would be back, if at all. Th ey would have known

that if it did not return, they would freeze and starve. Wouldn’t it

have been rational of them to worship the sun?’

‘I think you are right,’ she said, and I found it encouraging. ‘Of

course they were bound to worship the sun. Th ey could not

anger it, or it might decide not to return. And they struggled to

grow food here. Th ey had to live off fi sh mostly but they also had

the few root vegetables they could get from the short growing

season. If the darkness stayed all year, they could not remain in

this place.’

I asked her: ‘Do you think they got more confi dent that the

sun would return aft er each year when they saw that it did?’

‘I suppose so. Th ey would have had elders with them, too, who

were able to recall many years when it went away but came back.’

‘I wonder, then . . . Th ey would have had a religious idea of the

sun having a will of its own, and making a decision whether to

return, for instance, if people had pleased him . . . or her . . . and

then they would have had also a scientifi c kind of reason for

expecting it to return. If it had been known to return on fi ft y

other occasions, when it had left , weren’t they right to think it

would return on this fi ft y- fi rst time?’

She thought before answering.

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‘Th at depends,’ she said. ‘Sometimes it seems that the more

times something happens, the less likely it is to happen again.’

‘Can you give me an example?’ I was excited that she would

think this way.

‘Well . . . I mean like when the more times you have taken a

match out of the matchbox, then the less likely it is that there will

be another for next time. People could have thought like that:

there might have been only so many times that the sun was

prepared to return to us. So people might have worried that each

year was using up one of those times and it might not come back

next year.’

I adored her example.

‘Or I can think of the boots I wear to walk in the snow,’ she

continued.

‘Th ey keep my feet warm and dry many times. But I would be

wrong to think because of this that they will keep me warm and

dry forever. Th ey will wear out eventually and each time I use

them wears them out a bit more. So, unless I take them for repair,

each occasion I use them makes them less likely to keep me dry

next time; not more likely.’

I started to feel . . . that I could listen to this girl all night.

But she was not truly a girl. She was a woman: a young woman,

but defi nitely a woman. Her face was lit only by the candle and

the fl ame of the stove. But it allowed me to look into her eyes

and I felt drawn in, just as I had felt drawn in to the fj ord

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THIRD MEDITATION 69

earlier. I could have abandoned everything and jumped right in

there.

I checked myself. I realised I was entranced.

What a fool I was to be captivated by this young lady. I

recomposed myself. I needed to say something.

‘So, what do we do for Soldag now, here in our enlightened

times?’ I asked.

‘Oh, it will be wonderful,’ she enthused. ‘You must come.

Everyone in Bakkan will meet together. Th ey know the best place

to see the new sun so they said we will all stand together. Have

you never seen it before? Th e colours will be spectacular. Red

and pink and orange. It will seem like the sky is on fi re.’

‘I will defi nitely come,’ I replied. I was carried away. If Biret

told me it was worth seeing, then I defi nitely wanted to see it.

‘And then we will look like those ancient ancestors who

gathered and waited for the sun, won’t we?’ I added. ‘Not much

has changed in thousands of years.’

‘No.’ she agreed.

‘Not much at all. It is still the same sun we look upon that our

ancestors saw all that way back. It is still the same mountains,

barely moved, over which Sol appeared. It is still the same fj ord

in which we live. Much has changed in Norway and the world.

But it is still the same Nature and we should always respect her.’

Her words were beauty in my ears. I felt enchanted.

‘Is this Sami philosophy?’ I had to ask.

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‘I am not sure. It’s what I feel. When I go to Kautokeino I will

learn if I feel this because I am Sami.’

‘I would love to see that city.’ I added.

‘Oh, then you should come and visit me. Th en you could learn

about the language and culture too.’

‘I would . . . love that.’

I felt I could have gone to Kautokeino with Biret right then.

But instead she decided she was tired and it was late so she left

me.

My cabin felt very empty, suddenly. I had my solitude back. I

thought I could still detect Biret’s fragrance, though. Certainly

something reminded me of her aft er she had gone.

Now I had nothing more to my day but bed and rest.

I was ready to sleep contentedly. I had re- solved my problem,

no thanks to Odd, and I’d had the most wonderful conversation

with Biret. I felt that if I should worship anything, it should be

the sun.

I slept, with a smile on my face at fi rst. I was getting used to

my cabin bed. It was comfortable.

But it was not an undisturbed sleep.

At some point in the night, I was awoken. A heavy breathing,

snorting noise from outside permeated my thin wooden walls.

What was that? Th e whale, surely. It was here again. I quickly

looked at my watch, which I could only just see by the light of

the moon and stars that had made its way through my windows.

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THIRD MEDITATION 71

3.25. Right, when they ask tomorrow, I will tell them that the whale

was back at precisely 3.25. Surely they will have to believe me then.

Th ey know I am of sound mind.

Th en there was a relatively high- pitched wail: its song. It

echoed around the steep, mountainous sides of the fj ord, from

the dark depths of the water. Braving the cold of my cabin, I

jumped up from under the covers and looked out of the window.

But I saw nothing. What would there be to see? Th e whale

preferred it in there, swallowing the herring. Th e sound was all I

could expect to get.

So with that I climbed back into bed. Finally, the third day was

concluded. I heard more song from the fj ord, but at some point I

was asleep once more.

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72

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Fourth Meditation

I awoke on the fourth day to see heavy snow all around the cabin,

still falling. It was very hard again to get out from under the

covers, knowing that I would have at least an hour of cold as I

wrestled with the stove. And I saw that I was down to my last few

logs. I shouldn’t let temperature and inconvenience defl ect me

from my chosen path, however. Th e new philosophy I had found

could withstand more than that, couldn’t it?

Aft er my tea, and being sure the stove could continue to burn

without me, I set out, up to Petter’s house.

Th e hill was hard to climb. Fresh snow had fallen on top of ice

again, so it was a scramble. Sometimes I took a step forward and

then slid back down to where it began. I was glad no one was

watching; . . . I hoped no one was watching. It was undignifi ed. I

eventually got to the house, out of breath. Petter was alone. Th e

others had gone out to church.

Petter took this as an opportunity to ask about my time so far.

He started asking if I had enough food and whether I had met 73

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT74

some of the others. But he steered then on to the subject of how

the work was going. Was I fi nding the solution to the problems I

had brought along with me?

Without mentioning the incident with Odd, I explained how

the week had progressed well so far. I had found some good

reasons in favour of my realist philosophy and was starting to

think I could answer the doubters.

‘It sounds like you were a doubter yourself, when you arrived.’

‘Yes,’ I conceded. ‘I’d had my doubts. And I wanted answers

that would satisfy my own troubled mind as much as anyone

else’s. I suppose I am here to fi nd the solutions so that I can tell

myself not to doubt anymore.’

‘And you think you’ve found what you were looking for?’

‘Initially, I was looking for solitude. Th anks to you, I got it.

And then I hoped it would allow me to fi nd a good position: a

fi rm foundation on which to rest my philosophy. I think I’ve got

it, and it is again thanks to you, even if less directly so.’

Petter was pleased. He said I could now just relax and enjoy

the peace and tranquillity in Bakkan. He thought I needed some

rest and relaxation. I had worked so hard over a very long time

and it had taken its toll. I looked frayed. Th e comment felt a bit

blunt of him; but I couldn’t deny that in these past few years I

had aged more rapidly. Th e grey hair and lines on my face

testifi ed to that. When I looked in the mirror, I hardly recognised

the tired old man whom I saw staring back. And apart from

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FOURTH MEDITATION 75

looks, I felt my age when I scrambled up the hill from the cabin.

I was out of breath each time. My back was stiff . Would relaxation

arrest the process of decay, I considered? Or would it mean I was

just wasting some of the few remaining active days? Perhaps I

should just resign myself to being old.

Detecting that I was becoming maudlin, Petter tried to change

the subject again. He asked me to tell him about the new

discoveries I had made here, and he could see that my face

changed demeanour instantly.

Knowing that Odd would have talked to him, I elected to tell

Petter about the arguments I discovered yesterday.

I explained how science was premised on observation and

experiment, and these methods were justifi ed by the success of

science: its usefulness. But all of observation, experiment, and

practical application depended on the reality of causation. Th e

fact that science worked, then, seemed the very justifi cation of

the obvious assumption on which it must be based: that causation

is real.

‘So you think you’ve discovered the reality of something:

something that exists in the world and regardless of our views and

theories about it?’

‘Yes, exactly. And that is what I was looking for. Sceptics had

encouraged me to think that nothing was real independently of

our minds and the way we thought about things. Now I am sure

I can answer the sceptic.’

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Petter mulled it over. I was making a bold claim. It is rare that

a philosopher professes to being sure of something. What does

that mean, anyway? Th at no possible argument could defeat it?

I got the sense that Petter was thinking not just about the

thesis I had presented to him, but also whether he should risk

challenging it. It was as if he didn’t want to disabuse me of my

beliefs.

I couldn’t help questioning. ‘Do you have any doubts about

my argument?’

‘No . . ., no,’ said Petter. ‘Th at all sounds right.’

He hesitated some more.

‘Please tell me,’ I pushed him. ‘Th ere is nothing to fear from a

good philosophical discussion between friends.’

‘Well . . . I think you said something about there being a real

world irrespective of our theories about it.’

‘Yes. Th at kind of thing.’

‘Well, suppose I concede that causation is real. Th ere are still

lots of discussions to be had. Aft er all, many diff erent things are

said about causation. Th ere are countless theories of what it

really is. I presume only some of the things that are said are true.

Most are false.

‘So to say causation is real,’ he continued, ‘is not for you to tell

us much. What exactly is the thing that you are saying is real? It

seems to me, you have to tell us all about it: something substantial.

You know, as a philosopher, that I cannot tell you I agree with

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FOURTH MEDITATION 77

you that causation is real unless you tell me exactly what it is that

is real.’

Th is wasn’t an attack on my view, then, I judged. It seemed

more that he was asking me to fi ll out the account with detail:

explain what in the world causation is.

‘Th ere is a view, for instance,’ he proceeded, ‘that by causation

we can mean nothing more than regular succession.

‘One kind of thing happens, and then another, and if we see

many cases of the fi rst followed by the second, then we start to

think of the fi rst as the cause of the second. You water your plants

and they grow. Is your belief that the watering caused the growth

nothing more than knowing that growth has always followed

watering?

‘Would that be causation enough for you?

‘Or what about another theory I could suggest? Perhaps there

is this kind of regular succession but you also know, in addition,

that sometimes you have gone away and the plants have not been

watered. When you came home, they had died. Is it causation

enough for you if it means that one thing happens, and then

another, but you believe that if the fi rst thing had not occurred,

the second wouldn’t either? So you water your plant and it

remains alive but you also believe, based on some past experience,

that it wouldn’t live if you didn’t water it?’

I was starting to get the sense of Petter’s questioning. Th ere

were many things causation could be. I needed to say which it

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT78

was. I also had to think about whether it mattered which, though.

Sure, there are many diff erent theories of causation. Did I have to

narrow it down and say what kind of causation I believed in?

Would it be enough to say that causation is real, of which ever

type you believe in?

* * * * *

I had to go away and think this through. Petter’s questioning had

made me realise that, far from being able to sit back and enjoy

the rest of my stay in a relaxing manner, I did still have further

work to do.

‘Oh,’ I remembered to tell him. ‘Th e whale was back again last

night. Surely you heard it.’

‘. . . No,’ said Petter, to my huge disappointment.

‘Really? What about Marie? Or Ragnhild? Did they hear

it? Surely Solan heard it from his bedroom? He would have

heard it.’

‘I’m not sure,’ admitted Petter. ‘But no one mentioned this

morning that they had heard it. Usually we would talk about it

over breakfast, if we had.’

‘But no one said that they hadn’t heard it?’

‘No. No one said that.’

‘Alright. I’ll ask them when I see them. I’m sure I’m right. I

looked at my watch when it woke me up with its breathing and

song. It was 2.25 this morning. I checked.’

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FOURTH MEDITATION 79

‘It sounds like you are correct then,’ he admitted. ‘You are closer

to the sea than us. Maybe the whale is right beside your cabin

when you hear it. Th at would explain why we are not hearing it.’

Th at didn’t sound right to me. Th e whale was loud enough to

have been heard by everyone around the fj ord. But I didn’t want

to push the matter further. He seemed to be allowing that I was

right. Or could be. Just leave it at that. But was he saying it just to

please me? I didn’t want him to do so. Th ey should all have heard

it and should admit it to me. Were they trying to drive me mad,

conspiring to pretend that I alone could hear it?

I put on my outside clothes and set off back down the hill, the

wind driving snow into my face. It had become heavier now and

the loaded clouds were again blocking out what little morning

light there had been. If it carried on like this, I would not even

see the sun on Soldag.

Getting down the hill was less of a struggle than going up it. I

had learnt by now. But there was an added danger, in this snow

today, that I might sink to my waist. For the fi rst time since I had

arrived, I couldn’t see over to the other side of the fj ord. Th ere

was a mist and heavy clouds full of snow hanging over us. Th e

covering was getting thicker on the ground as it fell. I tried to

settle down in my cabin but my mind was constantly drift ing

away from philosophy. I watched the snowfall outside, fed the

stove, made some tea. Th e thoughts that I hoped solitude would

prompt remained shyly hidden.

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I wondered if, perhaps, I lay down to rest then some ideas

would come to my mind, in a relaxed state. Th is I duly did and I

tried thinking about philosophy, truth, enlightenment, the nature

of causation, the state of reality and the world. Perhaps that

would have worked but I have to confess to my shame that I fell

asleep, realising this only when I awoke later in the cold and

dark.

I was getting my stove going again and saw I was down to my

last log. But just in time Solan and Ragnhild came down the hill

with a full sledge of new fi rewood. I pretended I had not been

sleeping. A few logs were too big for my stove entrance so

Ragnhild quickly chopped them in halves with the axe.

I asked if they had seen Biret today.

‘She’s not here,’ Ragnhild told me. ‘She is away for the day.’

Th at seemed sad to me. Why didn’t she tell me that she was

going away? I was hoping I would see her.

‘She will be here for Soldag, though,’ Ragnhild told me,

perhaps knowingly, as a consolation. ‘She will be at our dinner

party too.’

Excitement seemed to be mounting for Soldag. ‘We will get

solbolle, you know. Have you had them before?’, asked Solan.

‘No,’ I explained to them. ‘Th is is the fi rst time I’ve visited at

this time of year. Th at’s a bun, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, you must have them. Th ey are yellow like the sun too. We

only have them the week of Soldag and they are delicious.’

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FOURTH MEDITATION 81

I looked forward to that.

‘We will gather at ten in the morning,’ Ragnhild instructed me.

‘We have a place where we stand: a little rise on the way back to the

road. It’s where you get the best view when the sun appears between

the mountains. Th en we eat the solbolle. Will you come, Ben?’

‘Mamma has been working on a new song on her guitar. It will

be really lovely. A song about the sun.’

Did I need to go? I wasn’t so sure. I can see the sun every

single day, where I live back home. It didn’t seem urgent that I

attend. What if I was on the verge of a major breakthrough?

‘Biret is coming, and everyone,’ Solan confi rmed.

‘Yes, I will come,’ I fi nally declared. ‘I will be there at ten.’

‘Klokka ti,’ Ragnhild confi rmed, playfully teaching me

Norwegian.

Th e two adolescents made sure my stove was burning properly,

fuelled by the new supply of wood. Th ey showed me how to

recognise birch, the bark of which was especially good for catching

the fl ames. Th e cabin warmed up though outside was dark and

windy. My abode was still shaking at times and I could see out of

my window that the snow passing immediately outside was again

travelling near- horizontally.

* * * * *

Aft er they were gone, I sat down to work, determined that I

would make some progress. I had only two more days aft er this

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT82

so could not aff ord to waste any more time. And Petter had given

me a new challenge.

I wondered, did it really matter what we thought causation

was, as long as it was something objective and real in the world?

A constant regularity is real. It is there whether we know it or

not. So if one thing always is followed by another, then that is an

instance of causation regardless of what I know and think. Th at

ought to satisfy my requirement of realism.

Or so I thought.

My mind drift ed back over some of the conversations I’d had

during these past few days and some of the sights I had

experienced out here in nature.

Biret had told me about the return of the sun, and whether its

reappearance year aft er year was a good enough reason to expect

it to return the next. She had given me a good argument why it

might not be. Sometimes, the more something happens, the less

likely it is to happen another time. So how do we know whether

the return of the sun, or any other regularity in nature, is the sort

of thing that should be repeated, or not that sort of thing?

I thought again of my fi rst night and how impressed I had

been when I initially saw Ragnhild chopping wood. I was sure

that her actions really did make the wood fl y asunder. It was not

merely that she struck it and then it fell apart. Th ere was a

connection between the two facts: a strong connection. Didn’t

the force of the axe actually break the wood? And, yes, I think

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FOURTH MEDITATION 83

that had she not struck it a blow, then it would not have fallen

apart. But this is again because the axe made it break. It caused

the result.

Causes make a diff erence, I can concur. But they make a

diff erence because they are causes; not the other way around.

Th is seemed to be a problem with philosophical analysis. We can

discover something that is true of causation, or whatever else is

the subject, and then say that the subject is nothing more than

that thing. But it is an illusion. Causes are diff erence- makers

because they are causes: that is the order of explanation.

I then remembered my irritating conversation with Odd.

He had tried to tell me that science could do without any

causation at all. I saw that science needed causation in order to

work.

Now suppose it was said that the causation that science invoked,

because it sought to avoid all metaphysical commitments, was

restricted to the sort of causation Petter had mentioned before.

Some scientists might like that view because it would mean that

science could all be understood in terms of observable data.

Causal claims would be entirely amenable to scientifi c scrutiny. To

say that A causes B means nothing more than that every instance

of A is followed by an instance of B, but with no other mysterious

‘connection’ or ‘real power’ between any of the instances.

Th en to say that this particular thing is a cause of that

particular thing is just to say that the fi rst is similar to one group

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of things, and the second is similar to another group of things,

and where every instance of the fi rst kind of thing is followed by

an instance of the second kind of thing.

Could I really point to any absurdity in this view? Would it

not be perfectly consistent, as a theory of causation, as long as

one is willing to accept its consequences? I did not like this view,

but where was the argument against it?

I thought again. Where would that leave science? What if a

scientist said ‘all right, I admit, the whole of the science that I

practice is premised on the idea of causation. But what I mean

by causation is what is perfectly available to observation; for

instance, that every A is followed by a B. Nothing more: . . . no

metaphysical, unobservable connection between one thing and

another.’ Could I refute that position?

I thought that I could. Or I could at least prove that unless one

accepted a stronger theory of causation, of the kind I wanted,

then science was left in no better position than I found it was in

yesterday: struggling to explain itself, to explain how it works,

how it succeeds.

I noted that causation was vital in at least three essential

components of science. It was needed to explain how an

experimental intervention was possible, it was needed to explain

how observation was possible, and it was needed to explain

how the fi ndings of science could be put to use. None of these

things seemed to work unless we allowed that causation was

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FOURTH MEDITATION 85

real and brought a connection between some things and not

others.

My opponent might at this stage say that, yes, causation is

required by all these aspects of science, but what he means by

causation, and what we all ought to mean by it, is that the fi rst

kind of thing is regularly followed by the second kind of thing.

Th e reasoning was subtle here but I thought I could defeat the

position.

We could start with the notion of intervention again. Th e

experimenter introduces a change into a situation and sees what

changes with it. I have said that this looks like a causal claim.

Now if one granted this, but then said that causation was nothing

more than the occurrence of a regularity, it would not really be

accepting the causal requirement of science at all.

I might say that the experimenter pulls a lever and it releases

a peanut to a monkey. It is the job of the experimenter to do this.

But now you ask me to believe that the experimenter’s pulling of

the lever didn’t really release the peanut, because you think such

an idea appeals to some mysterious link between events. So you

tell me that it means nothing more than that the lever goes down

and a peanut is released; and that whenever the lever is down a

peanut is released. Th is is just some regular behaviour of this

part of the universe, but unconnected.

I think I can say to you that this is still not enough. Unless you

grant me that there is some compulsion – some production –

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in causation, then it is not enough for us to say that the

experimenter pulling the lever is making the peanut fall. In that

case, the experimenter is still not doing any job. He does not

justify his salary or his research grant. Without any compulsion

in causation, then it seems that anything could follow anything

and it is only our good fortune that we live in a world where it

doesn’t. But, again, my opponent tells me that we are just lucky

that our world exhibits a pattern of events even though, still,

anything could follow anything else.

Next, to observation. Suppose that our belief was not that the

object in front of the eyes caused a perception that resembled it,

such as when a cat causes a cat- like perception. Instead, it merely

happens by coincidence that when a cat stands in front of you, it

is accompanied by a cat- like perception. You may suppose, if you

wish, that this just- so-happens each time a cat wanders by. But, I

ask you, would this really qualify as a perception? And would it

be an adequate basis for empirical science?

Let me explain. I once foolishly allowed myself to become so

tired with work that my mind was beyond all reason. I recall that

I hallucinated a bicycle in front of me. Now suppose, just by

coincidence, that at the moment I hallucinated there actually had

been a bicycle in front of me and it was one that my hallucination

resembled. Wouldn’t we say that this did not qualify as an

observation of a bicycle, even though I was thinking there was a

bicycle in front of me exactly like that one?

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FOURTH MEDITATION 87

I think it would not count as a perception of the bicycle. I

note, for instance, that if the real bicycle had moved off to the left ,

my hallucinated bicycle need not have done so at all. What this

shows is that my belief that I saw a bicycle was caused by the

hallucination and not the bicycle; hence, it is not a perception of

the bicycle because it would not be responsive to changes in the

bicycle, as we think a real observation should be.

Even if one sets that matter aside, with such an account of

causation I maintain that any such observation on these terms is

inadequate for science. If nothing about the object observed is

responsible – through producing it – for the observation, then

we cannot base science upon it. Th ere would be no reason why, if

everything that is A is followed by something that is B, the next

thing that is A would also be B. Th ere would then be no reason to

say that an ‘observation of a cat’ provided any evidence at all of

there being a cat in front of you. Th e uncertainty of any such

observation would surely be an inadequate basis on which to rest

science.

Th ink of it this way. Every time a cat- like observation has

been made, a cat was in the vicinity. You might try to protest that

the only reason I think that the cat had to cause the cat- like

observation was simply that on each occasion someone had the

cat- like observation, a cat was in front of him or her. But given

that the cat didn’t produce the observation, and didn’t need to,

how can we have any confi dence that this happy coincidence will

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continue? At any such point where it ceases to do so, we are truly

lost and detached from all reality.

And I would like to note one fi nal point on this issue. We

of course, were we so unfortunate as to be in this position,

have no means whatsoever of verifying that a cat really was

in front of us when we had a cat- like observation. Given that

all we have is the observation, then one cannot check on any

occasion whether the observation and the world matched. If

they ceased to do so, we would have no way of knowing directly.

We would have to infer it from the fact that the world did not

behave the way we expected it to behave, on the basis of what we

had seen.

Finally, I said that the success of science required that there be

causation in the world. By this, I meant that we can use scientifi c

fi ndings to manipulate the world to our own wishes. Science

has a pay- off , in inventions, technologies, new processes and

medicines, that make its pursuit ultimately worth the while.

Unless there was causation, then science’s only utility would be

that it provided us with understanding. But I’d add that I don’t

see how it could even deliver understanding other than by

discovery and explanation of the various causal processes to be

found in the world.

Th e same sort of reasoning that I have already used strikes

against this point too. If causation involved no actual production,

but merely a regularity of one thing that happens to be followed

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FOURTH MEDITATION 89

by another, then it is hard to see that science would really be

worth pursuing.

It is one thing to say that the world has just happened to

exhibit a fortunate regularity, such as the appearance of sunlight

being invariably accompanied by warmth. But now we are

talking about our own actions, whereby we introduce changes

into the natural order. If causation was a mere coincidence of

one thing followed by another, there would be no reason at all to

assume that a human operation, performed upon the world,

would be followed by anything in particular. Th us, science could

have recorded that the eating of cabbages was followed by good

health. But if there is only this accompaniment without genuine

production, then I would have no basis on which to eat cabbages

if I was in want of good health.

I was able to conclude, and then record in my notebook, that

this line of reasoning supported an account of causation as

involving a notion of genuine production. It seemed to me that it

could not be analysed away into other, non- causal terms, such as

regularity, without such arguments resurfacing.

Of course, regularity is not the only available theory of

causation and so it remained to be seen whether I could follow

similarly destructive chains of reasoning against all such theories.

I vowed I would do that. But I thought I had already established

a conclusion strong enough; namely, that any account of

causation that did not contain a commitment to the production

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of an eff ect by its cause would not provide an adequate basis for

the conduct of science.

* * * * *

Th e day’s work was done. I was sure of it, and I had nothing else

I could do. Th ere was no visitor. If Biret was here to call on me, it

would be diff erent. We could discuss the sun or Sami culture. I

wouldn’t mind what we talked about. It was clear that no one

would come as the night was so cold, wild and windy. Th e cabin

rattled.

I decided I would try to stay warm in my bed and sit and

think about what else I could consider. I had two more days left ,

including Soldag. Would I be able to use them well? Would there

be any more challenges to my newfound sense of certainty? Was

it defi nitely now secure?

I had some thoughts about topics for tomorrow, and the day

aft er that. As had happened earlier in the aft ernoon, however, I

started to feel drowsy. I do not think I was yet adapted to this

near- constant darkness. Th ere was light, but only for a short

time, and none of it direct. My body was telling me to sleep: to

hibernate almost. Like the locals, I too was now looking forward

to Soldag. I wanted to feel some sun on my face. Maybe that

would give me more life and optimism.

I did sleep for a time but then woke at some point in the night.

Perhaps it was just because I had slept so much during the day.

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FOURTH MEDITATION 91

But I also had a distinct feeling of oddness, like something

signifi cant was happening.

I listened but could hear nothing. Th at was important. When

I had gone to sleep, there was a howling wind and the cabin was

creaking. Now there was nothing. Apparently the storm had

blown itself out.

I opened my eyes and noticed that it was not as dark as

previous nights. Without a candle or stove to light my way, it had

been little better than black. But now I could see around the

cabin. Th ere was light, though it was light that had a tinge. I got

up and looked through the small window in the door.

Up in the sky was a green hazy colour stretching right the way

across the sky: a rough thick band of light from one side to the

other. Nordlys. Northern Lights.

I grabbed my boots quickly. Th ey were cold and damp when I

put my stockinged feet inside them. No matter. I had to go and

see this directly. My coat went over my night clothes and I was

soon out to confront this new and – I have to confess – awe-

inspiring sight.

Th e snow clouds had dissipated, dropping their burden onto

the village and beyond. Instead, the sky was clear and now calm.

I could see every star, so bright. But there was also the strangest

phenomenon of light superimposed across the night sky. It was

ghostly, ethereal.

I thought I could see exactly where it was and its shape. But

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when I looked back along the band, it had changed. I might say

that it danced; and yet I saw no movement. All I can report is that

each time I looked at it, it seemed diff erent: constantly altered,

but without conveying any sense of change. For that reason, it

seemed an impossible object – a lightshow designed by an artist

of incredible worlds. I had once understood what causes an

aurora borealis. I no longer remembered. But that did not matter.

I simply enjoyed the wonder of the eff ect.

I stood and stared until it seemed to fade. For a time, I was not

sure whether it was there or not anymore.

But when I defi nitely could not see any more, I realised I was

shivering. I had not sensed how cold I had been, when immersed

in my visual experience. It was bitterly cold. My chin was numb.

But it was easily worth braving the freeze for that show of light

amid all this darkness.

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Fift h Meditation

One day until Soldag! Th e anticipation was mounting for the

return of the sun. Petter and Marie went off to buy food for the

dinner. I saw both Marie and Inger talking that morning and

neither of them admitted when I interrupted that they heard the

whale a few nights ago. I had to forget that for now. It sounded

like Soldag would be a day of little reclusion so I needed to make

the most of today. I wondered if Biret was back in the village yet

but nobody had seen her. No one was too impressed that I had

seen Northern Lights. Th ey get it many nights in the winter, as

long as the sky is clear.

I was starting to feel inspired. I’d already had a beautiful stay,

what with the aurora borealis and hearing the whale, so I eagerly

set down to work. Why shouldn’t I be ambitious, I thought. I had

established the existence of one aspect of objective reality but

what about other things? Would I be able to explain and justify

the existence of these? Could I prove their reality too? A world

93

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containing just causation would be a strange one aft er all. Don’t

we need something that does the causing and something that is

caused? Until I had said what those are, I suspect I still hadn’t

proven enough.

Th e world is not just about causes. It contains tables and

chairs, trees, atoms, plants, animals and boats. Th ese are kinds of

thing and they all have particular instances, such as the chair in

my cabin, the boat that I can see out on Kaldfj ord, Petter the

individual man.

As well as these things, or individual objects, we also know of

another kind of ‘thing’: redness, roundness, squareness, hotness,

tallness, heaviness. Th ese are features or properties of the fi rst

kind of thing. Hence, a man might be tall but a boat can be tall

too. Tallness could be a property that the man and the boat share.

I’m tempted to say that while each particular, such as a man, can

be only at one place at a time, a property such as tallness can have

many instances: in a ship, a tree, a building.

Th e world doesn’t contain just particulars, their properties, and

causation between them, however. When I stand back and look at

the world, I have to admit that it contains a rich array of kinds of

thing. Th ere are events, for example, such as the rising of the sun.

Th is is a happening. And for there to be events such as this, there

must be an even more general category, which is change.

Clearly, we live in a world in which there are changes, for

example when a stove that was cold then becomes hot. When we

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FIFTH MEDITATION 95

accept that there are changes and events, we should also allow

that there are processes too. One might think that a process is

just a very long event, such as the growth of a child into an adult.

But we can be more exact than that. A process seems to mean

that there is a series of events that must occur in a particular

sequence and for a particular outcome. Hence, there are multiple

events in a process but they cannot occur in any old order. Th e

order of occurrence is essential. Hence, the child begins to grow

and his body develops. When his skull reaches a certain size, he

loses his baby teeth and they are replaced by adult teeth. Th en he

starts to grow hair on his face and body and his voice deepens.

Similarly in women there are other changes. I can think of

further processes too, such as photosynthesis or the life cycle of

a butterfl y. And away from the natural world, there is the passage

of a bill into legislation or the proper running of an election.

Th ese are processes too.

My list is not exhaustive but I wanted a sense of the richness

of our world: that there are many categories of thing. And what

can I say to justify their real existence, as well as the real existence

of causation?

I left this question hanging and decided to take a break.

Th inking cannot be rushed and it cannot be forced either. Th ere

were ample chores for me to do in and around the cabin. I tidied,

chopped some strips of kindling off a plank of wood with my

Sami knife, put all the waste into one bag. But while doing this,

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I allowed my mind to wander freely, letting it discover its own

associations. I continued thinking this way as I ate some lunch,

by the end of which I thought I had some answers.

* * * * *

We know of things only because they aff ect us. Th ey causally

relate to us. Perhaps, then, this helps us understand what it is to

be. To be is to be causally relatable.

I needed to develop this thought. I know of the objects

around me because they are able to aff ect my senses. To be

real, I do not think that they must actually aff ect my senses.

Th at would suggest that something was real only when it was

being perceived, which would be absurd. I accept the existence

of many things that are unperceived. What qualifi es something

as real is that it can or could be perceived, if in the right

situation, such as in daylight, and if a perceiver is present.

Whether it is actually perceived, therefore, depends on accident

of circumstance.

I see also that to perceive is merely one special case of being

causally aff ected by something. We are sentient beings, which

means that some of the eff ects other things have on us result in a

conscious experience, as in the cases of seeing, hearing, touching,

and so on. But there are other eff ects that things have on me,

which I might not perceive. Th e moon exerts a small gravitational

attraction on me, for example, but I am not aware of it. I can feel

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FIFTH MEDITATION 97

food fi lling my stomach but I cannot feel it giving me vitamins.

And there could be one thing heating me and another cooling

me in equal measure but I have no experience of either because

my temperature remains the same.

Th e grounds for something’s existence shouldn’t be restricted

to the perceptual eff ects on us, then. If something has other kinds

of eff ects then it ought to be taken as a suffi cient basis for that

thing’s being.

I see, therefore, that we should not attend to only one kind of

eff ect. And we should also not discriminate in saying that the

eff ect in question has to be upon us: we human beings. Would

it matter if an object had its eff ect on some other thing,

including another inanimate object? Suppose that on top of a

stove there was resting an iron bar. Because the stove is hot,

the iron bar expands. I am happy to assume that no one is there

to witness this and, as the stove dies out, the iron bar returns to

its regular size. In a way, we can think of it as if the iron bar

perceives the stove in that it was causally aff ected by it. Th e stove

produced a change in the iron bar. Th ere was of course no

conscious experience of the stove within the iron bar, but no

matter.

Th is seems adequate grounds on which to say that the stove

was real; namely that it was able to causally aff ect another thing.

Again, it need not actually have expanded the iron bar. It was

pure accident, let us suppose, that one was placed upon it. And if

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it had not been, no such eff ect would have occurred. I am content

to grant the reality of the stove simply by virtue that it was able

to aff ect an iron bar, or some other object that might have been

found within its locale .

To be real perhaps is also not solely a matter of having eff ects.

We can just as well consider something real if it is able to be

aff ected. A thing can be a cause but it can also be caused.

Th e stove that expanded the iron bar was also aff ected when I

lit it. I acted upon the stove by placing paper, and kindling and

logs inside it and lighting it with a match. I caused it to light. But

I could not causally act upon something that did not exist. To be

aff ected by something else, then, is also suffi cient for us to say

that the thing exists.

I might argue, then, that anything is real just in case it is able

to aff ect something else, or to be aff ected, in however small a

degree and in any way.

Th e same account could be given for all the things that I

listed above. Th is claim applies to particular properties, events,

processes, and so on. If we take properties, we can see that to be

a property is to be able to aff ect some other thing. Something

being blue means that it is able to cause a certain sensation in an

observer. Th at something is hot means that it is able to expand an

iron bar. And that allows me, furthermore, to give an account of

what it is for properties to be of the same kind. Diff erent instances

are of the same property when they are able to produce the same

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FIFTH MEDITATION 99

eff ects. Hence, anything that is spherical will tend to roll in a

straight line down a slope. If something was not disposed to

behave in this way, we would not call it spherical.

All these things have a causal essence. Th eir ability to cause, in

response to their own causes, is what makes them what they are.

I have not proven that these things exist, then, but in establishing

the real existence of causation, I have laid the groundwork for

them. I have provided the reality of that which is their essence.

And I have also established a reasonable criterion for the

existence of something. My study of causation – its existence and

nature – is not for nothing, therefore. It is now shown to be one

of the most central concepts of all – possibly the most central for

the existence of everything else. For without causation, it seems I

cannot understand the reality of anything.

* * * * *

When one has undertaken deep thought and emerged from it

with a modicum of satisfaction, one fi nds an inner peace and

tranquillity that virtually matches the serenity of an Arctic fj ord.

I was thus in a state of complete relaxation as I fi nished my

meditation and practically oblivious to my entire surroundings.

I say this so that it can be understood what shock I next felt

when confronted with a most ghastly and horrifi c sight. At the

small window in my door appeared a grim and ghoulish visage:

an old man staring right at me with such a pale, blank and

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT100

unfriendly expression that I thought at fi rst this might be a

corpse propped against my cabin. A shiver ran through my body,

starting at the base of my spine and travelling upwards such that

when it reached my neck I gave out an involuntary and most

undignifi ed shriek. I had been taken completely off - guard and

had none of the composure that I like to present to the outside

world. I might have thought this was a troll, here to haunt me, but

when he opened the door and I could see the full outline of his

body, I saw that it was a regular human being and a man, still

alive for now.

He nodded his head slightly in my direction; not quite a bow.

‘I am Bård,’ he announced, ‘Bård Eriksen.’ So I reciprocated.

‘Benedict Chilwell.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘I heard that Bakkan had a visitor and I have

seen the light in your cabin.’

‘I see,’ I replied.

‘I live in the grey house: the furthest away.’

Now I understood. I was meeting the inhabitant of the fi nal

house in Bakkan.

‘Please come in and let us close the door,’ I urged, as I could

feel the heat from my stove being sucked outside. For all I knew,

it was the man himself taking it away, rather than the Nordic air,

but I risked inviting him in nonetheless.

‘Sit, please. It’s so nice to meet someone else who lives in

Bakkan.’

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FIFTH MEDITATION 101

I hoped that playing the polite host might break the stern face

of this man, which seemed not even to have moved while he was

speaking. But he remained emotionless as he sat down on my

spare chair.

‘I hear you are a philosopher.’

‘Yes, I am,’ I told Bård. ‘I have been to Bakkan before, though

never to stay. Th at might be why we haven’t met.’

‘Th at’s not it,’ he said, and left a pause.

What surprised me about this visitation – and that is a word I

have chosen carefully – is that he had not yet made any attempt

to explain why he had come. What did he want from being here?

He had just arrived, and sat.

But that had not been the end. He resumed his reply.

‘I have lived here only two months. I am new to the village.’

‘Ah, I see. It is a year since I have last been here so, no, we could

not have met.’ I remembered that Petter and Marie had told me

when I arrived that there was this new resident.

As there was nothing further off ered on his part but silence, I

had to break it at the point it became uncomfortable.

‘Th at means you will not have seen the sun since you have

lived here; . . . unless you have travelled away from the village.’

‘No. I have not travelled away from the village.’

I really could believe that his skin had not been touched by

the sun for two months. It looked as white as the snow.

‘Do you like living in Bakkan?’ I asked.

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‘Yes.’

Silence.

I needed to ask an open question, so that he couldn’t answer

in one word.

‘What do you like about it here?’

‘Th e silence.’

I thought carefully about my next question; indeed, whether I

should ask one at all. For all I knew, he could have happily sat

there all day. But I think I needed to move him along.

‘And what did you do before you came to Bakkan?’

‘I was prest : a vicar, a priest, at a town inland. I am retired now.’

‘Ah, I see. Th at explains it.’

‘Explains what?’ Bård said, a little sharply.

Recovering, I answered ‘I mean it just explains why you have

only now come to Bakkan.’

To prevent any further embarrassment, I quickly added ‘And

are you here in Bakkan alone, or with family?’

‘I am alone. All alone. My wife died three years ago. When I

retired, I decided I should move away, to enjoy the sea and the

nature.’

Bakkan certainly gave him sea and nature but I had yet to see

any sign that he was enjoying it.

I fi lled some of the pauses by confi rming that I was a

philosopher, here to do a little thinking. For the fi rst time, he

seemed to have some interest in me.

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FIFTH MEDITATION 103

‘I’d heard this. And did you make any new discoveries?’

‘I think I did, yes.’

I was almost ready to tell the retired priest about my thinking

during the week. Th ere was every indication that he would sit

and listen, if only because I could not imagine him ever getting

up and leaving. But more footsteps approached.

* * * * *

I looked out and saw Biret.

‘Biret, please come in,’ I called. ‘How nice that you are back. I

heard that you had been away.’

Biret entered and I held her hand. Not quite a handshake; a

little more. She nodded towards Bård and said his name. He gave

the faintest nod back but did not speak.

‘Well, I can see that you have company already,’ she said. ‘I

should not stop you two from talking. You must have very

important matters to discuss.’

With that, she made to leave. I wanted to call out ‘No, please

stay!’ But I didn’t. I wasn’t sure that it was appropriate and she

was already out of the door while I was still deliberating. I was

too slow to act.

Damn this Bård! I had not seen Biret all yesterday and now he

had driven her away. Damn him!

* * * * *

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT104

I thought we had better get this conversation over with as soon

as possible.

I launched into a mini- lecture.

‘Yes. I discovered that the most fundamental thing in the

universe is causation. What it is to exist is to be causally connected

to other things, in the sense that everything is interrelated.

Th ings are what they are in virtue of what they are able to cause.

Furthermore, causation is the very basis of science. Th ere could

be no science without it, as it has to presuppose that our

observations are caused by the world and that we are able to

intervene and change things. But I found that this was all very

well and not merely a presupposition because there is a proof

that causation has to be real and it starts only from the premise

that we are able to think. If there is thought then there is language,

if there is language then there is society, and if there is society

then there is causation. So the argument goes through like that,

you see. I could go into the detail of that argument but it might

bore you.’

I think Bård had already detected the annoyance in my tone.

‘You seem very sure of the power of your reason,’ he

began. ‘But I think we can never be quite so sure. Can we ever

really say that we have the capacity to grasp the wonder of this

universe?

‘Th e sun will come back tomorrow at one minute aft er ten. We

can depend on this. And when people tell me that this wonderful

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FIFTH MEDITATION 105

world all came about because of a huge explosion, a big bang, if

you like, I simply cannot believe that order would have come

from such chaos. Th ere are forces at work that we cannot

understand. Th ese are supernatural forces – beyond both science

and reason – that shaped the development of our universe.

‘Your rationality was given to you by your maker but do not

imagine that it gives you even one billionth of the understanding

that the maker hath. Your “proof” is nothing to Him. You use

only the logic that He has given you. And you must admit that

there is nothing eternally true about that logic. It is based on

certain assumptions that themselves cannot be demonstrated,

only accepted or denied. So nothing is as certain as you

philosophers would pretend to each other. Every proof you claim

is built on sand.’

Once more, I had to try my best to show no anger. I did not

want Petter to be in dispute with his neighbour over me. In two

days I would be gone, and this silly vicar would be of no matter

to me then.

I composed myself.

‘I understand your thinking, perhaps more than you expect,’ I

began, it being rhetorically useful to admit the reasonableness of

your opponent’s position at the start of its destruction. ‘You are

right that every system of logic rests upon a set of axioms that

themselves have no proof, though we believe them to have an

intuitive appeal.

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‘But while it is right that we should have a healthy sceptical

attitude to any claim of human knowledge, I think that this

should extend also to religious belief: perhaps even more so.

‘You tell me that I have a maker, but what is this being? If you

say that he is supernatural, then I do not know how we could

have any reason to believe in him. He is outside of space and

time, so I have been told, but then that means that he cannot

interact with anything we know. He cannot have eff ects in the

natural world, so I do not think we have any reason to believe in

him’.

‘Of course He has had eff ects in the natural world,’ Bård

retorted. ‘What about His miracles? What about the act of

Creation? Th e existence of the world is evidence of God. It is the

eff ect of His benevolence and continuing providence’.

I really could not see the point of maintaining this conversation

any longer.

‘All I know is the world around me that I can see and touch

and understand with my reason,’ I said, but it was a weak reply.

‘Now I really must resume my studies,’ I told him, though it

was already getting late and I doubted very much that I would sit

and do any more work.

He got up to leave but then turned and looked back.

‘Just one fi nal thought for you before I leave. Heed it well.

You spoke then of what you can see, touch and understand. I

can see that you have carnal desires in your mind, skjødets lyst .

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FIFTH MEDITATION 107

I urge you: be careful what you touch. Do not forget the danger

of the Huldra.’

With that he was gone.

It was one of the strangest visits I’d ever had in my life. If he

fi nds people so diffi cult, why call on them?

I shouted out: ‘If God did not exist, what diff erence would it

make?’ But he had already gone back up the hill and my words

were lost to him.

* * * * *

Each day so far had seen at least one twist of fortune. I was

in despair but then found new hope, or I had started the day

well only to encounter a new diffi culty. Today was one that

started well, and I was pleased with my fi ndings, only to have

this very strange fellow appear at my door and cause all that

trouble.

I could just imagine that he had been watching me all week so

far, waiting until he heard news that I was happy and making

good progress, and choosing that exact moment to descend on

me and stifl e my joy. How can he call himself a man of God and

then go around spreading such misery? He seemed the sort of

man who would go to a birthday party just to pop the children’s

balloons.

Still, no matter, I thought. Tomorrow was Soldag. Th e sun

would be back. Biret would be here, and there would also be

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dinner with Petter and his family. I would try to make the most

of this special day, my last in Bakkan.

I was calmed when I looked out through the window to see

the fj ord by moonlight, the small glimmer from houses opposite,

and the white mountains beyond. A modest fi shing boat returned

to its base at the end of the fj ord, gliding slowly down the centre

of the water. What seemed a whole minute aft er it passed, the

disturbed water from its trail started lapping at the rugged shore,

just outside my cabin.

Bård had shattered my peace; now I must try slowly to

regain it.

I was considering undressing in readiness to take to my bed,

yet I heard footsteps approaching once again. If that was Bård

coming back for more argument then he was in for a fi ght. Or

perhaps it was Odd. My tension built but was then quickly

released when Biret’s face appeared at my door.

‘Please, come,’ I called, with relief. ‘I’m so glad you came back.’

‘I didn’t want to see you while you were talking with Bård,’ she

said.

‘Oh, I would much rather have spoken to you than him. He

was so dull trying to tell me that philosophy was of no use. I

didn’t want to hear that. Tell me, where have you been?’

Biret proceeded to tell me of what she had done the previous

day. She’d been to visit a man in Tromsø who represented a Sami

college in Kautokeino. Aft er speaking with him, she thought she

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FIFTH MEDITATION 109

would defi nitely go there to study. He had been very welcoming

towards her and told her how the people in the town would be

very friendly. She would be moving as soon as possible. Almost

everyone there spoke Sami so she hoped she would pick it up in

no time.

‘So when next I come to Bakkan, you will have left ,’ I pointed

out.

‘Yes, so you should come see me in Kautokeino.’ Th at was the

answer I would have wanted.

‘I brought you a night- time drink, if you would like one,’ she

added, and with that produced a bottle of red wine and two

glasses. I couldn’t refuse. Th is would help me relax and unwind

aft er Bård’s unwelcome intrusion.

‘It was really nice of you to come back, and to bring us this

bottle of wine to share.’ I hoped she understood the depth of my

appreciation.

We talked and we drank. Th ere could have been no more

romantic light than the one we had that night, from the

moonlight, the candle and the stove. I felt lost in her eyes and I

hung on to her words.

It became warm. It was the longest she had stayed here with me

and she took off her outside clothes revealing another colourful

dress that I liked. In this climate, we were each revealing little of

our bodies to the air but her dress was low enough to uncover the

smooth and silky skin on her neck and collar bones . . .

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Was I an old fool to imagine that she would have any interest

in me at all, beyond theories I could tell her about the sun and

science and what is truth? Perhaps she saw me as a wise old bird;

surely nothing more than that.

Still, I would enjoy the conversation and an intimate evening

in my small cabin with a beautiful young lady. Our backgrounds

were worlds apart. We must have seemed equally exotic to the

other.

But a connection between two people can transcend national

and cultural boundaries. Th at night, we simply were two human

beings. Age, occupation and country did not divide us. I wanted

to hear about her life and she about mine. We were both naturally

reserved, but perhaps that makes it easier when you are both

alike in such temperament. Th e bottle contained enough for

three glasses apiece, aft er which there was no doubt that we were

relaxed enough in each other’s presence to continue this into the

early hours of Soldag.

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Sixth Meditation

Soldag!

Aft er Biret left I was fi lled with joy and inspired to bring my

thinking to completion. I still felt in need of closure. As much as

I had found Bård Eriksen’s argument annoying, I accepted that

something was needed to round off my position and make it

immune to the kinds of outside infl uence of which he spoke.

Philosophy would have to wait today, however. Due to the

position of the mountains, the sun would appear a minute aft er

ten o’clock and if I was to see it I had to wash, up in the house,

and breakfast so as to make sure I was at the vantage- point on

time. I remembered there was said to be a slight rise in the land

as the path started back towards the road and which, I was told,

was the best place to see the sun fi rst show itself and shine on

Bakkan soil again.

Th e sky was clear, luckily. A few days earlier it was so heavy

with snow that the sun would not have penetrated. Our last few

111

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT112

days had seen the skies empty their contents on us. Th ey had

nothing left to give so the view was unimpeded. Th is also meant

that the day was cold, possibly the coldest since my arrival. Th e

snow that had been soft and slippery the day before was now

crunchy underfoot, and thus easier to negotiate as I went back

down to my temporary lodging.

At fi ve minutes to the hour, I set out from my cabin, less

fearful of my ascent up the hill. Th e others were already there:

Petter, Marie, Ragnhild and Solan, Inger and Odd, and Biret. Just

aft er me, Bård also appeared, carrying the same long, stony face.

Petter welcomed me. ‘Have some coff ee and solbolle,’ he

suggested. Th e coff ee was dispensed from a thermos fl ask and we

all had some to help us keep warm.

‘Th e sun should appear in two minutes,’ he said, aft er a quick

glance at his watch. Th e solbolle were little cakes but with a touch

of yellow custard showing on the top, said to look like the sun,

but only at a stretch.

I took the coff ee and went and said good morning to Biret.

She smiled but then had to go and speak to Odd and Inger.

Something about fi rewood, maybe, but it was in Norwegian. I

tried to listen but couldn’t make it out.

Solan and Ragnhild came up to me. ‘Keep looking,’ said Solan.

‘It is starting to appear.’

In the distance I could see the gap, like a valley, formed

between two high mountains. Above it in the sky was some faint

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SIXTH MEDITATION 113

and diff use cloud, topping off the space and making it into a

roughly discernible triangle. Th is was now fi lled with a bright

yellow- orange, merging almost into red at the fringe where the

light met the cloud. Th e sky was afl ame: the colour of my stove. It

made the cloud above it all shades of blue, purple, orange.

Suddenly, it burst over the top of the horizon, with an instantly

physical impact on me. I had to take two steps back.

Th e sun, Sol, was here: a ball of fl ame some 93 million miles

away and giver of life on earth. I was . . . blinded by its brilliance,

but also its beauty, and had to look away quickly.

It was so bright that no one could stare at it directly, but by

averting our eyes just a few degrees to the left or right, we could

all appreciate its splendour, even if to a slightly lesser extent than

the truth.

How the light played tricks as it shone through the clouds,

producing a kaleidoscopic panorama the scale of which was

impossible to quantify or comprehend. Th e solar system was vast

and we were tiny.

I looked back and around at my companions and saw that

they were as transfi xed as I had been. Even the miserable Bård

looked in awe. I saw the sun light up his face and it moved for the

fi rst time. His lips pulled back slightly, showing his teeth. Was

this a smile? Was he merely squinting in the face of bright light?

Odd and Inger stood close together, one arm around the

other. Th ey both were scientists, from diff erent fi elds. Was it the

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT114

marvel of science that they beheld? Or were they captivated by

an irreducibly aesthetic experience?

Th e sun shone on Petter and his family. He had been such

a good friend to me. We had met at academic conferences over

a number of years. Shared philosophical interests had brought

us into contact. But now it was more than a professional relation-

ship. We enjoyed each other’s calm company: one of the purest

friendships. So many others were rivals. Petter was not. He

understood me as well as he understood my philosophy. He

seemed accepting of both.

Marie was his rock. How I would like a Marie. She was a strong

and capable woman, who coped as well out in the nature around

Bakkan as anyone. But I always felt that their partnership came

fi rst, both in his mind and hers, and perhaps this was why they

had raised two such beautiful, trusting and confi dent children.

Ragnhild was on the verge of full womanhood but seemingly

with no fear of the big world outside this tiny settlement. Was

that due only to ignorance of it? And Solan looked most delighted

to see the sun again: the sun aft er which he was named.

Everyone on this planet, whether they come from the tiniest

village or the biggest city, whether they be Christian, Muslim,

Jew, Buddhist or atheist, looked upon this same sun. It told us

that there was only one truth.

Finally, I set my eyes upon the gaze of Biret. She had youth on

her side and plans for what to do with her life. Her name marked

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SIXTH MEDITATION 115

her out as Sami in a land where that was no advantage, her

parents having taken her away from Finnmark. Would she fi nd

answers to personal struggles by returning to her spiritual home?

And what, I feared, if those answers were not the ones she

wanted? How then would her dreams be fulfi lled? I saw her

natural beauty glow in the heavenly illumination. But would that

beauty serve her well, or only bring her to the attention of

hopeless men like me?

‘It starts to go,’ commented Solan, all too soon.

Th e sun moved closer to the next mountain, with mere

seconds of its direct shine left for us today. I followed its radiant

light out from the centre, through the clouds and down our fj ord.

Its beams hit the water, though it would be many days before it

warmed its icy state.

And . . . was that . . .? I thought I saw something. I thought I

saw it.

Was it?

Yes.

Just below the surface of the ocean, where the new born light

could reveal, I saw a silhouette against the momentarily

illuminated water. Th e object looked distinctly whale- like. It was

the huge shape of a tail in distinct outline. Briefl y, it broke the

surface. Did the whale detect me looking, and move to bolt? It at

least left a region of disturbed water. Ripples.

‘Look!’ I called. ‘Th e whale is here. Th e sun shows it!’

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT116

Th e assembled villagers looked to me, and then followed the

direction in which my outstretched arm was pointing.

But, in that time, the sun moved behind the landscape. Th ere

was still light, but it was no longer direct. I looked from their

faces to the fj ord too but it was shaded. Th ere was no visible sign

remaining that the whale had been there. Th e water was still.

What a fool I must have seemed.

Th eir silent expressions failed to hide their wariness; almost

disapproval.

Who was this curious gentleman from abroad who had come

to tell them the truth about their own world? What did he know?

Yet, I was convinced. I could no more doubt that I saw the whale

than I could my own name. Why could they not see the world the

way I did? Must our understanding always be so diff erent?

One by one, our small gathering dispersed. Perhaps my

assertion did not even warrant a denial; or it would be impolite to

add to my humiliation. But there was one person this possibility

did not stop. Odd lingered a moment longer than his wife and

silently shook his head disapprovingly as he looked at me.

He had enjoyed my defeat more than the rest. I felt belittled,

dismissed.

Finally he left . It seemed I was all alone, my isolation complete.

But, no. I felt a hand touch my arm. I turned and saw the

unexpected face of Bård, my grim new companion: we two, the

most recent arrivals in Bakkan.

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SIXTH MEDITATION 117

‘Understand, my friend Benedict, that your faith can be

mightier than every science or philosophy.’

Bård’s statement required no answer. Just as well.

I had none.

* * * * *

I resolved to stay in my cabin for the rest of the day and not

have to face my neighbours. Instead I would meditate for one

last time. Philosophy was the only friend I needed and could

trust. I would not be going to dinner and I rehearsed a number

of diff erent excuses for my non- attendance. None of these

would be true; I knew that people did not want the truth in any

case. Th ey heard what they wanted to hear. Even if one had

a proof, most people will not be receptive to it. Let them have

lies, then.

Was I aff ected also by the fact that only Bård was there for me

when I was most alone? Was that a further humiliation, to have

gained his pity? Or should I construe his actions as noble? It was

a time of need. Where was Biret? I thought that we had an

understanding but it looked like she wanted to talk to Odd and

Inger more than to me. Perhaps she was the Huldra all along.

And why would Petter not defend me? I think I knew. Never

since we met had he agreed with me just because I was his friend.

And that meant I always knew where I stood with him. His

challenges were valuable to my work. We both knew that. He

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT118

would not allow that honesty to slip now. He was a man of

integrity.

No matter. I would be leaving the next day. Th e incident with

the whale was of no consequence. What mattered was that I

fi nally complete my meditations and resolve all the outstanding

matters.

I was just about to do so when footsteps came down the hill.

Biret appeared at my door and opened it. ‘Yes?’, I queried.

‘May I come in?’, she said.

I nodded.

‘I’m surprised you are willing to be seen visiting an old fool

like me. Bård can see right the way down to my door, you know.

He will know you are here.’

‘I wanted to explain; . . . and check that you were alright.’

‘Th ere is nothing to explain,’ I insisted. ‘You have no obligations

to me. You can talk to Odd if you prefer.’

She gave me a moment to let my frustrations abate.

‘You must see that I will be here in Bakkan aft er you have left

tomorrow. I cannot have the others judging me for how I have

behaved with an older man. I am Sami and Samis are accused of

loose virtue all of the time. Would I not just be a cliché in their

eyes if I was seen to be intimate with the latest visitor to this

cabin?’

I understood, and yet this comment also tormented me. Did it

imply that the other men who had been here, sleeping in this

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SIXTH MEDITATION 119

bed, had also felt themselves more special to Biret than clearly

they were? I knew I was not the fi rst visitor. I was just a stranger

passing through. I was the biggest fool of all to think that this

meant something. How can someone of my age be so immature

in his thinking?

As she watched me ponder over humiliation piled on

humiliation, I saw her face soft en once more. Perhaps I was to

receive pity again.

‘I do not disbelieve you that you saw a whale,’ she said.

Th is surprised me. I was not ready for it, nor demanding it.

‘Th at is not the same as saying you believe me,’ the logician in

me had to point out.

‘I believe you,’ she said.

And that was all I wanted to hear.

I had her trust.

* * * * *

Th e ice broken, we proceeded to have at least an hour or so in

further conversation and things all seemed right again.

She explained how she liked me and hoped we could still be in

touch aft er I had gone. She had been making plans for Kautokeino.

It wasn’t practical to move out there for another six months, during

the summer, so she would have to stay in Bakkan until then. I

accepted that I did not want to impugn her virtue, in word or in

deed, in front of the people she would live with until that time.

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She also managed to talk me round to the idea of coming to

the dinner. No one had really tried to contradict my claim of

seeing the whale. Everyone could tell that the sun had disappeared

just at the point they started to look. I was looking before that. I

was the observer in the best position out of all of us. Th e matter

would surely not be mentioned any more. And it was my last

night in Bakkan. Everyone would want to see me off with a good

meal and drink. I would regret it if I missed the dinner. Besides,

I had not yet told them any of my fi ctitious excuses, so all

embarrassment had been avoided.

She was right. I was grateful to her that she had talked me out

of any rash decision. It would be rude to my hosts not to attend

their Soldag dinner. It was, aft er all, my farewell dinner too. She

made it sound like the whole evening was arranged in my

honour. Th ey would all enjoy hearing about my fi nal conclusions

too, and my experiences.

Biret told me she had to walk to the store and buy some wine

as her contribution for tonight. Did I want also to buy some? I

did. I gave her money – a generous amount – and asked if she

would get me a very good one. Alcohol is a luxury but I was in no

position to be mean.

* * * * *

Biret left and I was alone again. What a morning it had been.

I quickly lunched and then set to work, knowing that today I

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SIXTH MEDITATION 121

had only the aft ernoon to myself and it would soon be very dark

again.

I needed to put the assembled pieces together to form a

compelling whole, perhaps one that was scientifi cally,

philosophically and theologically satisfying. But could this be

done? Th ere seemed a danger of antagonism all round. Some

supporters of science reject both the theological and philosophical

approaches. Th eology sometimes overrules both science and

philosophy. Now while some philosophers reject both religion

and scientism, I did not think that there had to be automatically

an antagonism from the philosophical direction towards the

other two. Perhaps a philosopher could reach out and explain the

appeal and justifi cation of science – as I thought I could do – and

also theology alike.

But what place would there be for God in my world of

causation? If he were not a natural object, as I am told he is not,

then is he a ghostly presence, unable to aff ect or be aff ected by

the physical processes of the natural world? He is then a spectre,

a geist, and no part of my world- theory. Nothing here suggested

a bridge on which the philosopher and theologian could meet.

Creation remained a mystery. Any fi rst natural event, by

defi nition, had no natural cause. If we use Big Bang as the name

for this fi rst natural event, then there seem diffi culties in any

attempt to explain it. I can think of the following possibilities in

response to this issue.

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT122

One: there was no fi rst natural event; no so- called Big Bang.

Perhaps time and space proceeds around in one big circle, in

which case the cause of the fi rst event in our history was simply

the last event in our history. As it makes sense to suppose those

last and fi rst events might even have happened one hour ago,

creating a world complete with me and all my memories of

yesterday, then I might even be persuaded to think that there

were no true last and fi rst events at all. Th e line that forms a circle

has no beginning or end. One event has no more claim of being

the fi rst than another.

Two: the Big Bang is uncaused. We cannot, aft er all, rule out the

possibility of uncaused events in the natural world. Th ere are some

theories in physics which suggest that uncaused events happen in

the natural world with surprising frequency, such as when a

particle springs into existence or another one goes out of it. While

every eff ect has a cause, there seems to be no necessity that every

event has a cause. One could simply deny that every event is an

eff ect of some cause. Th is would amount to a denial of a principle

of suffi cient reason, which tells us that everything that happens

has a suffi cient reason for doing so. If our world does turn out to

be indeterministic, however, then we have grounds to reject the

principle. We might then have to accept that, if there was a fi rst

event in the world’s history, that fi rst event was uncaused.

Th ree: the Big Bang had a cause that was outside of nature.

Th is is the view that there was a supernatural act of Creation

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SIXTH MEDITATION 123

from the Deity. One of the potential problems with this view is

that it rests on the possibility of a natural event having a

supernatural cause. Th is idea can be challenged by the thesis that

causation requires a movement or transference from one thing

located in space and time to another. When a ball is kicked, for

instance, there is an impact at a location and a transfer of

momentum from the kicker to the ball. Now in the case of a

natural event that has a supernatural cause, we simply do not

know what such causation would look like; nor how two such

very diff erent things, one immaterial and without a spatiotemporal

location, can interact with another that is material and located in

space and time. Perhaps our lack of understanding is insuffi cient

grounds, on its own, to rule out such causation. Indeed, we think

of Creation as a miracle – ‘the miracle of Creation’ – so perhaps

this expresses the idea that any such supernatural causation of a

natural event would indeed be such a mystery that it should

qualify as miraculous.

I cannot think of any other than these three possible ways of

understanding the presence of a universe. Perhaps there are

others but I suspect that they are possibilities either too remote

or too horrible to contemplate.

Can the philosopher tell us which of these is true? I think it can

be said of the fi rst option that it suff ers from a possible drawback

that there seem no possible circumstances in which it could be

disproven. Someone might think that this is an ideal position for a

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT124

theory to fi nd itself in, but that is far from the case. What it suggests

instead is that the theory has no testable content, and possibly no

content at all. As the scenario has been described, it seems that

there really is no way to disprove that the world was created in its

entirety one hour ago, including with the creation of all the

memories in all its people. But that off ers no grounds whatsoever

to suspect such a theory of being true.

Th e fi rst option can also be accused of failing to solve, or even

engage with, the mystery of existence. It merely evades the

mystery. If the universe does involve one big whole of space time,

with the fi rst event being caused by the last event, we can still ask

the question from where did this whole come? What made this

vast circle of space time? And then we are left with the other two

options in any case. Either the world was uncaused or it had a

cause outside of nature. We should move on and consider the

other two options, therefore.

What of option three: the theological option?

I remembered an experience that seemed relevant. When I

was a child of six or seven, the schoolteacher permitted the class

a discussion such as this.

‘What made the world?’ one child had asked.

‘God,’ another answered.

A voice at the back of the room retorted ‘Who made God?’

Th e whole class laughed uproariously at the new questioning

child. Th e teacher stopped them.

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SIXTH MEDITATION 125

‘No,’ she said. ‘All those who laughed, give me an answer then.

Who did make God?’

Of course, none could say and their laughter was silenced.

It was to my shame then, and a shame with which I continue

to live, that mine was not the questioning voice at the back of the

classroom. It could have been. But mine was one of the voices

laughing: joining with the group to ridicule a question I myself

did not have the wisdom to answer. I suspect that this was a key

moment in the making of me as a philosopher. Never again

would I think any question is too stupid to ask. Anyone who says

so will almost certainly not know how to answer it.

I didn’t fi nd the identity of the child who spoke out: one of my

contemporaries. What, I wonder, became of her (it was a girl’s

voice)? Th e question had a point that is relevant to our third

option. Would it really solve the riddle of existence if we just

proclaimed that God made the universe? Wouldn’t the riddle

merely be relocated? Th e question I would then want to be

answered is ‘Who made God?’ and we would be no nearer an

answer to that question than we were before.

In this judgement, I am following exactly the same principle I

apply as when I hear some supposedly naturalistic explanation

of the Big Bang. Some say the Big Bang is not a mystery because

we have a theory that suggests there was some sort of proto-

material cloud, which came together and caused the Big Bang.

Any such theory, regardless of the details, is hopeless and

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT126

makes no progress at all in explaining the beginning of existence.

I would instead then simply want to know what caused the

proto- material cloud. Th is is why it is useful to think of the Big

Bang as synonymous with the very fi rst natural existent. Th e

details of exactly what it was, do not really matter to me. It could

have been a bang, or a fl ash, or a cloud, or a whimper. But as long

as it is the fi rst thing, then we have the question of its origin of

existence and are back to the three possible explanations I

outlined.

Hence, even with the third option – the outside, supernatural

cause – we still have to explain where God came from. And to

prevent having an infi nite regress, where we go round and round

in circles, asking the same question in a new form, we cannot

accept the third possibility here. Th at is why people fi nd the

fi rst two options attractive. Either, to adapt the fi rst option, God

exists eternally and there was never a time when he did not exist;

or, to adapt the second, God was uncaused, and is thus the

uncaused cause of everything.

I think the second option is the one that we should take most

seriously, and we should allow something that is itself uncaused

but is the cause of everything else. Whether one calls this

uncaused cause God or the Big Bang does not seem to matter,

since the two claims are structurally identical.

It was at this point that I experienced the most startling

revelation. How could, I thought, anything be the cause of

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SIXTH MEDITATION 127

everything? Th e every thing would have to include causation

itself, since it is a part of reality, as I had already established.

Nothing, not even God, could bring causation into being,

because He would need causation to exist already in order to

do so.

It follows that the very fi rst thing to exist must be causation

itself. Causation must be that fi rst uncaused thing. It must be,

then, that God is causation: they are identical, for nothing in the

world would deserve the name of God more than the uncaused

cause. Anything else would be inferior, and we know that God is

supposed to be inferior to nothing.

Th e philosophy I had discovered in my week in Bakkan could

be summed up in the phrase ‘causation fi rst.’ But this did not

mean just that causation was conceptually the fi rst, as in the

starting point of all philosophy and science. Causation is fi rst

philosophy. But it seems that causation is also explanatorily fi rst

and, I was persuaded, temporally and metaphysically fi rst in the

story of the universe.

Now you might say that option two is still less than satisfactory.

Must we really settle for the idea that the fi rst thing was uncaused?

I suggest that nothing might be better than this answer. But

consider this again. Any explanation of the existence of the

universe would ultimately be a causal explanation. Th is means

that all the accounts require causation to be real. No explanation

gets going, therefore, unless causation is accepted as really

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existent. No matter what it is, real causation must be at the very

moment that the fi rst thing came into being.

Th e reader should understand immediately that we cannot

ask ‘What caused causation?’ Any such question can only be

answered by invoking causation, and would thus be self-

undermining through its circularity. Causation itself is the one

thing that had originally to exist uncaused, therefore. It cannot

be created unless and until it exists, therefore it cannot be created.

What else can we call this, other than God?

* * * * *

Th e revelation was so monumental that I had to feel somewhat

humbled. I felt as small compared to this truth as is my body

to the size of the sun, or as a drop is to the ocean. I could

only cope with my new understanding by taking a stroll

outdoors.

I climbed up to the path on which Inger and Odd’s house sits

and I walked from there deeper into the woods. Th ere is nothing

more on Kvaløya aft er Bakkan, just trails and forest so I had to

make sure that I did not get lost. In the history of the island,

more than one visitor has been found frozen to death in the

winter wilderness.

I kept checking on Polaris, Polarstjernen, to make sure that I

kept my bearings. It was a tiny prick of bright light in a sea of

darkness. Yet its constant fi xedness guided me.

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SIXTH MEDITATION 129

As I looked around at the beauty of nature in every direction,

I had to think what a wonderful world we had. And this set in

motion my fi nal train of thought of the six meditations, which

completed my whole philosophy.

Causation was not there only at the start. Causation remains

ongoing and all around us, all of the time. Without the sun, air

and water causing the forest to grow, there would be no trees.

Without the inner gene structure of the plant causing carrots

to grow, there would be no food. Without gravity causing us to

remain in orbit around the sun, there would be no life on this

planet. I could instantly see that a conception of God as the

provider, sustaining the world at all times, made sense once we

understood that God was causation.

And God created me too. Yes. I see that I have reason to be

thankful that I live in a world where causation exists. For a sperm

caused an egg to be fertilised; and then to grow into me. My

parents made me, of course, but were only able to do so because

causation is real in this universe. It is the one thing I have most

gratitude for. Th e planet is warmed and food grows here. It is also

predictable to an adequate- enough degree that we can survive. If

anything could follow anything, then we would not know what to

do and danger would be around every corner. One couldn’t eat

healthily or avoid accidents, for everything would be an accident;

and what would there be to stop an elephant trampling you at

any time? We have already seen how the scientifi c notion of

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intervention would be inapplicable without causation, and this

same argument would apply to any human attempted action. One

would never know the consequence of it, if any, and one would

thereby be disempowered: at the mercy of the world’s contingencies.

Causation has not just fed our bodies, therefore. Because

some things are connected to others, such as the striking of a

match and it lighting, the world is comprehensible to us too.

Causation thus feeds our minds as well. Without causation

connecting types of event or object, we really could not know

what was coming next. Th ere would be no degree of regularity

about anything, hence no basis on which to form rational beliefs

about expectation or strategies for action. But once there are

causal connections in the world, between some phenomena but

not others, then we can start to form theories about the world,

make our plans and off er explanations. Th e world has a structure

that our beliefs can fi t and our expectations and intentions can

seek to exploit.

Causation truly is the great provider. Is it any wonder that

people gather in churches on Sundays to give thanks and praise

to causation, the eternal almighty, without whom there would be

nothing but desolation and the disorder of things?

And in prayer, too, you can pray that the causes work out in

your favour, or the favour of your loved ones? If one prays to

avoid accidents on a journey, one is expressing a wish that

nothing on that trip causes calamity. If one prays for good

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SIXTH MEDITATION 131

weather, one is praying that high pressure is caused in one’s

surroundings. What other sense could one make of petitioning

prayer?

Th is interpretation of Creation and the continued existence

and order of the world seemed to make sense to me. With that, I

called a halt to my meditations. It was, aft er all, nearly the time at

which I was invited for dinner with Petter and all the village folk.

I retraced my footsteps: quite literally, on this occasion, as no-

one else had walked that path and there was no fresh snow, either,

to cover my recent imprints. Back in the cabin, I quickly jotted

down in my notebook, ensuring that none of my new ideas were

forgotten.

I then dressed as best as I could for the occasion. I had not

brought much and was not expecting any need for smartness. I

had to content myself with fi nding the trousers and sweater that

had been least dirtied by the snow. Nor did I have a brush for my

hair or scissors to trim my fi ngernails.

I nevertheless found myself leaving the cabin at the appointed

time, ready for one fi nal evening in the company of friends and

acquaintances, old and new.

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I made my way up the slippery slope to the house of Petter and

Marie, where I could see that every room was lit. Th ere were

sounds of conversation and merriment coming from within. I was

happy to reach the entrance and feel the warmth emanating

outward. My arrival went unnoticed as I stood inside the door and

assessed the scene.

I saw Marie and Inger deep in conversation. Ragnhild and

Solan were at one end of a long dinner table preparing a game of

chess, while Petter, Biret and Odd were setting places at the table,

chatting, bringing crockery and glasses out. I noted that Bård

was seated on a chair against a wall, staring into space, talking to

no one. As Solan played the fi rst move on the chessboard, Bård

looked up to note it, but then looked away again.

Removing my outside coat and boots, I attracted Inger’s

attention. She stopped her conversation and gradually a hush

133

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT134

descended over the house as everyone looked to me. I felt self-

conscious, as if they had been talking about me.

Petter came forward and greeted me.

‘Oh, it’s Ben. Welcome. Now we are all complete and the

Soldag feast can begin at last.’

Inger resumed her conversation with Marie and the

awkwardness was defused. Without too much delay we were all

invited to sit down. Th ere was no seating plan and I watched where

Biret sat, next to Odd. I was too slow and before I could reach the

vacant chair on her left side, Bård was already in that position,

though I had seen him make no movement. I had to walk back

around the table but managed to sit opposite Biret, which was the

next best thing. Petter and Marie brought out a fi rst course of hot

soup, which I think was caulifl ower. Petter then sat next to me. Th e

chess board was vacated at the far end of the table while Ragnhild

and Solan each moved up a place to eat with us, but I did see that

Ragnhild kept glancing back at the game, thinking through her

strategy. We had a white wine with the soup. I enjoyed it.

Once that was all consumed and cleared away, Marie announced

that she had a special gift for us: a gift of a song that she had written

for the occasion and would now play, accompanying herself on

guitar. Everyone seemed excited, especially the children, who ran

and sat on the fl oor attentively, in front of their mother.

Marie started strumming an introduction and then entered

vocally, singing her song, in Norwegian. I couldn’t follow it but

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 135

heard Sol mentioned, as I would have expected. It was a sweet

melody and I thought Marie had a beautiful though sorrowful

voice. Th e wine must have aff ected me because I felt a warm glow

inside, and that this was a natural place for me to be, with these

people.

It was not a long piece and when it was done, I joined everyone

in giving a big round of applause. I asked Petter what it was about

and he asked Marie if she could translate the lyric into English

for me.

She said that translation was not her strong point but it would

be something like the following:

Th e Sun lights our way

It brings us joy and hope

Without it, we would not know whether to turn left or right

Warm us, bright Sun,

Make the food grow in our gardens once more

When you return, we will in return give you a warm welcome

It was called Welcome the Sun . I liked it. Perhaps it was a bad

translation. But the sentiment still came through. It wasn’t the

sort of thing I would have written.

Another glass of wine was off ered. Perhaps I should have said

no. But it was a special night and I had worked hard all week so

I agreed, as did everyone else at the table, except Solan and

Ragnhild who were already back playing their game. Petter made

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT136

some small talk about whether I was ready for my return home,

departing in the morning. I assured him I was, though I didn’t

look forward to the travel.

Fortunately, he was called away to help serve the main course,

so I didn’t need to provide any more unnecessary details. A big

pot was placed in the middle of the table in which we took turns

fi shing for chunks of stewed herring and we passed around the

potatoes and vegetables. Foolishly, I had fi nished my second glass

of wine while waiting and, without asking, it was fi lled again.

We all started eating. To break the silence, Marie asked if I

would now be willing fi nally to tell everyone about my work this

week and what I had concluded. As I was in a positive frame of

mind, I agreed and proceeded to lay out the main points of my

fi nal position. I explained how causation was known to be real, it

being the one thing that could not be socially constructed. I

explained how science rested on the reality of causation – and

I’m sure Odd accidentally let out a ‘tut’ at that point – and such

causation couldn’t then be reduced to a mere regular pattern of

unconnected events if the worth of science was to be preserved.

I fi nished by explaining why I thought that nothing deserved the

name of God better than causation. Here there was no doubt that

Bård gasped and shook his head repeatedly but I think some of

the others did too, to a lesser extent.

Th ere was a lull, which Marie eventually ended by thanking

me for sharing my thoughts with everyone but I was sure

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 137

that as she did I heard Bård mutter ‘Outrageous!’ under his

breath. Petter distracted everyone by walking round the table

with wine, fi lling all our glasses again, whether they needed it

or not.

When he sat down he too thanked me for being so honest and

open. He continued:

‘Now I’m sure we all would have things to say about Benedict’s

ideas but I have to speak fi rst and say that he is a distinguished

philosopher who has clearly thought very seriously about these

matters. I think that if we have concerns about his conclusions

we should challenge them through reasoned argument, not jibes,

and all retain our dignity.

‘Benedict will respond best to reasoning and I’m sure will be

happy to answer any serious questions you have,’ added Petter.

‘Isn’t that right, Benedict?’

Of course. How could I refuse to answer questions now, given

what I had just told them? And in a way I would fi nd it a more

comfortable topic of conversation than enquiries about simple

travel plans. I fi nished the remaining food on my plate quickly

and prepared to listen.

‘Now, who will go fi rst?’ Petter questioned.

‘I will,’ said Bård, with uncharacteristic urgency.

Petter, as host, had the authority to grant the request, which he

did with a nod in Bård’s direction. Having gained permission, he

composed himself once more and began in his own time.

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‘You have told us that God is the same thing as causation, and

this is a claim I have not heard before. It sounds to me like a

heresy. However, I am willing to put that aside and consider the

view on its merits, as you philosophers like to.

‘All your arguments sound purely metaphysical, to me. But

have you considered the moral arguments as well?

‘Th ere is one feature of God that you overlook if you equate

God and causation, so I do not think you adequately take account

of it. What we know of God is that God is good. Now, from what

I understand of your concept of causation, it is neither good nor

bad. Th at is to say, good things can be caused to happen, like the

growing of our food, and also bad things can be caused to

happen, such as famines or earthquakes.

‘Causation seems neutral or indiff erent in a way that God

cannot be. So I cannot accept, as you have suggested, that God

and causation are one and the same.’

I thought he was done, but as I was formulating my reply, he

started up again.

‘What is lacking from your view of things is a moral dimension.

God is not just some cold, objective truth in the world. He is also

the provider of goodness. He has a moral aspect, which you have

chosen to ignore. Perhaps you think of the world as lacking all

morality, and you would like that, because it would license all

sorts of depraved behaviour.’

I’m sure he glanced sideways at Biret as he said that.

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 139

‘Without the goodness of God, I think that is what you will

have, and I cannot accept it,’ he concluded. And with that he

seemed fi nally done as he sat back in his chair, looked at me and

waited.

I thought this through and saw that Bård had a point. I was

always told that God was good – he was omnibenevolent – so

how could I really have an account of God that lacked this moral

dimension? Perhaps I was describing something very important

in the universe but I couldn’t be describing God as long as it was

lacking in goodness.

I considered whether to withdraw this part of my new

philosophy. Perhaps it would not have done much harm to do so

given that it was only one aspect of it, and probably the most

dispensable part.

However, I saw the look on Bård’s face. He was eager. I would

say almost smiling. He had the look of a man pleased with

himself, as if he thought he had achieved an important victory. I

realised that if I gave in he would see it as a vindication of

theology and its inevitable triumph over philosophy. I had to

mount a defence of my position.

I began speaking, not knowing quite where it would end.

‘Now I grant that there is one point that might be raised

against my view. Isn’t God good, whereas causation is neither

good nor bad? Th is is a standard way of thinking about God,

certainly, at least in some traditions, but I don’t think it is the

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT140

only way. Moreover, it is a way of thinking about God that itself

creates some problems. And if you instead think of God in the

manner I suggest, then those problems will disappear.’

‘Th at is a bold claim, young man’ interjected Bård. ‘Th en

again, I know that you are not shy of controversy. But can you

back it up?’

‘I think I can,’ I responded. I could not now avoid the challenge.

I decided to begin with a true story.

‘I once knew a Christian who had been taken to church every

week since she was young. She was a dutiful child who wanted to

please her family and so she learnt the Bible and the order of

service and did all that was asked of her. She sometimes prayed,

as was expected, for the health and well- being of those she cared

about and for things to be alright whenever there was a problem

in the world.

‘I did not meet her until she was older and aft er a few years

she told me that she was starting to lose her faith. I was interested

in this but I should make clear, Bård, that her change of mind

was nothing to do with me. I had not once encouraged her to

give up her religion. Naturally, I asked her to explain why she was

ceasing to believe.

‘ “Th ere was so much bad in the world,” she explained. She told

me how she had heard of natural disasters, plagues and famines

in which sometimes thousands of people had died. She did not

believe that God would have approved of these terrible things

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 141

occurring. And yet God was supposed to know about everything

and have the power to do anything. Why, then, didn’t He intervene

and prevent unnecessary deaths? And she also told me that there

was a personal experience that meant a lot to her.

‘Her grandfather, with whom she had sometimes gone to

church, was a very good and devout man. He truly believed in God

and did everything he could to live within the Christian spirit. And

yet, this man, surely the least deserving of misery, became very ill.

He had a lingering, drawn out, and – she cried as she told me – very

painful death.

‘She had been told all the usual explanations. God sent these

things to test us; we would get our rewards in heaven; God had

given us free will to make mistakes, and so on. But she eventually

stopped believing these explanations. None of them, she

concluded, would justify the human suff ering in the world,

which continues unabated in spite of God’s presence.

‘I recognised her concerns. Philosophers have considered this

problem in depth and I know that the theologians have tried to

explain it away. Perhaps they can, though I suspect it will need

very clever arguments to do so.

‘But suppose instead, as I urge, we take a diff erent attitude

towards God. Suppose we stop thinking of God as a person. Th at

surely is us imposing a human model on to something that is

clearly not meant to be human. God does not worry or deliberate

over the natural course of events, or come to decisions to

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intervene in them, like we do. What my model suggests, rather, is

an impersonal account of God, where God is beyond our

concerns, including those of morals.

‘Morality is a matter of the proper behaviour of people: how

should we relate to each other, to other animals and the world

around us? Why assume that this is of any interest to God?

Furthermore, why assume that human suff ering is of any interest

to God, either? If a rock needs to fall from a mountain, because

it is dislodged, and my head is in the way, why do we think that

God would – or should – step in and give me what I want instead

of the rock? Th e whole universe is God’s creation and I cannot

see any reason why he should prioritise one part of it over any

other.

‘What I am suggesting, then, is that if you put away your Bible,

and the received opinion about God, the idea of him as an

impersonal and amoral presence in the universe perfectly

accords with our experience of the world. Some good things are

caused to happen and some bad things too. Causation is not a

moral matter, you are right. It is neutral: beyond good and evil.

But we really have no reason to think that God has this moral

dimension either, other than what we have read and chosen to

believe. If instead you look at the eff ect of God on the world, you

do not see this morality.

‘I wanted to ask you the other day, Bård, what diff erence it

would make if there was no God. Let me now pose that question

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 143

in a slightly diff erent way. How would the world look if there was

no benevolent God but one who was perfectly amoral and

unconcerned with humans and their welfare?

He was silent.

‘Well, I suggest to you, the world would look exactly as it

does now. Indeed, it is only if there was an omnibenevolent

God that we would expect the world to look diff erent, absent

of all its present suff ering. So experience seems to favour my

interpretation rather than the received one you have given us.

And, in that case, I see no barrier here to equating God with

causation.

‘Th is God- cum-causation has certainly created us and

provides for us, so deserves the name of God in that respect. Th e

one feature you say it will lack is, however, a feature that we have

no sound reason to believe exists in the world. Th ere is pain and

suff ering aplenty, not all of which is of our own making. You

cannot tell me that there is an all- knowing, all- powerful and all-

good God at work here. Th e best explanation I can fi nd is that

our God is not good, and why not then equate it with blind,

unconcerned causation.’

To my surprise, I had managed to improvise a convincing

answer. Indeed, I had even persuaded myself that this was the

best way to respond to the likes of Bård. I noted that any slight

indication of a smile on his face had gradually drained away

as I was speaking. He was no longer on the edge of his seat,

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awaiting my capitulation. Instead, he had slowly moved further

and further away, his arms were folded and his face looked as

white and grim as ever. Th is countenance alone was enough to

persuade me that my answer was successful.

Th e guests resumed their dinners. Solan and Ragnhild had

already moved back to their chess. I could see that the others

were all thinking about what I had said.

Biret was the next to speak up.

‘I found that very interesting, Ben. I am not a philosopher, nor

theologian, nor a scientist, as you know so maybe my opinion is

not worth as much as someone else’s.’

‘No,’ I interrupted. ‘I must contest that last statement from you,

and that one alone. You don’t need an academic training in order

to think these things through. I very much value your opinion,

Biret. If you say I am wrong then that would matter very much to

me. And if you say I am right, then I would be overjoyed. Do go

ahead and say what you want.’

‘Very well,’ she responded. ‘I will take what you just said at face

value and assume that you are not teasing me.’

‘I am not,’ I assured her again.

‘What I think, then, is that you could give a diff erent kind of

answer to Bård, on this matter. But I am not as confi dent as you

all so I will put my point in the form of a question.

‘You seemed to give way to Bård and grant that causation was

neither good nor bad.’

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 145

‘Yes: it has moral neutrality,’ I said by way of encouragement.

‘And then you said that this was all well and good because

there was no sign that God was anything but morally neutral.’

‘Th at’s right,’ I agreed.

‘But could you not have gone a diff erent way with this and

argued that what you call causation is overall a good thing?

Wasn’t this the point of your saying that it provides for us, that

there would be no world created or sustained without it, and that

it made the universe comprehensible?’

Was I fooling myself to think that this young lady had shamed

me with her incisive analysis? Was it not the best interpretation

yet? And she was stating it in such a perfect way, which made it

sound as if I had been right all along.

‘Biret,’ I said, ‘You have charmed me so much in the week that

I have been here. But nothing is as charming to me as to hear

your spontaneous words of wisdom. And I see that they oblige

me to think again and off er a more nuanced position.’

‘What is “nuanced”?’ piped up Solan, and I quickly explained

to him, apologising that I could not translate it into Norwegian.

Biret’s question raised the issue of whether existence was

better than non- existence. Without causation, we would not be

here. And it seemed good that we were. But would it really be bad

if we had never existed in the fi rst place? I had to consider these

questions honestly. I noted that there were some signs of life in

Bård again, though.

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‘How can I tackle your question, then, Biret?’ I began, again

not knowing where my reasoning would end, nor how I could

square it with my answer to Bård.

‘Here is what I think we must say.

‘What I argued before was right. Causation is not a moral

force in the world. Causes produce their eff ects regardless of

whether they are good or bad. Th e ocean cannot resist drowning

a man just because that is a bad thing. Th e moral sphere is all

dependent on our interests, by which I mean the interests of the

sentient creatures of the world. But I think I can reconcile this

with Biret’s point. All that is good in the world – by which I mean

all that is good for us – we only have because causation is real. It

matters to us that we are alive, that we can have pleasure, that we

can understand the world and use science, that we can help each

other when in need. Th e reality of causation is then a precondition

of all that is good.

‘Now you might say that it is a precondition, also, of all that is

bad. Fire and lightning can kill me because they are able to cause

my death, for instance; hence they do so only because causation

is real. But I also think that causation is not the precondition of

every possible bad.

‘What I am thinking of is that if causation were to suddenly

stop working in the whole universe, then that would be an

undoubted bad. Anything could follow anything. Th e world

would instantly become incomprehensible and unable to sustain

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 147

us. We would have a rapid and miserable end, most likely, and I

can see that this would be a bad thing.

‘What if causation had never existed in the fi rst place, you

might ask. Well then, I insist, we would never have existed either.

Perhaps that would not matter, as there would be no creatures

to have suff ered harm. But I still think that overall an orderly

and comprehensible universe is better than a disorderly and

incomprehensible one.

‘Th e former is better because it at least gives us the opportunity

for happiness, knowledge and free will, even though we may

squander that opportunity. We even have the potential to mitigate

or overcome the eff ects of natural disasters, one day. Without

causation, we don’t even have such an opportunity. In that case,

the disorderly world is bad – in the sense of being worse than an

orderly world – but its badness is not due to the presence of

causation. Indeed, this badness is due to the absence of causation.

‘I conclude, therefore, that Biret is right, as I would expect, and

overall the world is better for having causation than being without

it. In that sense one could say that causation, or God, is a good; and

that badness is due to the absence of God. And if this also answers

Bård’s original concern about equating God with causation, then

all the better.’

Petter and Marie in particular seemed pleased with this

answer. Odd and Inger still looked sceptical but produced no

immediate objection. Perhaps even Bård was happy with what I

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had concluded but I couldn’t say for certain, given that there was

always at least some degree of doubt over whether he was actually

dead or not.

Marie now spoke up.

‘I like your answer,’ she said. ‘But I still think that your account

of causation leaves something out of the description of God.

‘I believe in God,’ she confessed, ‘but your notion of causation

is insuffi cient to account for His perfection and magnifi cence. So

I cannot yet sign up to your philosophy if you cannot reassure

me.’

Of course, I had to invite Marie to say more. I also felt that we

were on the same side in that clearly she wanted nothing more

than to understand. No one would suspect an ulterior motive of

Marie.

‘Maybe I can explain what worries me. I will try,’ she started.

As she did, Petter passed the wine around again and we all fi lled

our glasses. Because I felt the signs of intoxication, I decided I

would not drink this one.

‘Th e fact is, as I understand it,’ she said, ‘that causation is a part

of the natural world. It is how the sun warms the earth, how food

feeds us and how books educate us. But God seems to me to be

something more. Doesn’t He have supernatural powers that

cannot be explained in a merely scientifi c way?’

I was sure I saw Odd shaking his head so I encouraged Marie

to continue.

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 149

‘Well, the sort of thing I mean is that there is life in the

universe, for example. Th is seems a miracle. I cannot see that the

blind and natural forces in the world – which I take causation to

be – could have produced something as wonderful and as special

as life.

‘And we human beings are even more miraculous: each with

our free will and unique personalities. Nature unaided could not

have produced all these diff erent and beautiful living and

thinking people. Surely that needed something equally special, if

not more so. I’m tempted to say that it required something

supernatural. So even if you are right and God needed causation

in order to create all the wonder of the world, God must be more

than that causation. God must have miraculous powers as well,

so that tells me that you need more. It seems to me that a

deliberate act of creation was at work: a creation of living

thinking beings that could not have come about through

accident.’

Th is was another good point and I realised that I was as

helpless as anyone in explaining the origin of life on earth or the

existence of mind and consciousness. I really didn’t know how

that happened, nor if anyone else knew either.

‘Marie asks one of the greatest questions of all,’ I said,

addressing all at the table. Even Ragnhild and Solan looked up

from their chess to hear what I had to say about their mother. I

saw that I could not contradict her by anything in my reply.

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‘And I am hindered in my response by the fact that I know

insuffi cient biology. So my reply cannot give any detail on the

facts of nature. Perhaps Inger can provide that later. But I think I

can say something of use.

‘Th e existence of life in the universe does seem a mystery to

us and this is not simply a matter of science. Th ere appears to

me also to be a conceptual problem. We fi nd it hard to conceive

of how life can emerge from lifeless parts, and also how mind

can emerge from unminded parts. We think that if you take a

number of components that are lifeless, then the product that

they make when they are all together must also be lifeless. But I

think there are cases where wholes are more than sums of parts

and where they can acquire properties not possessed by the

parts.

‘If we stick with human biology, for instance, we see that our

bodies are made out of some fairly mundane and common

elements. I believe that carbon, nitrogen, calcium, hydrogen and

oxygen are among the most common elements that make up our

biochemistry. Th ese are fairly commonplace and they occur in

lots of other things without constituting a living creature.

‘So how do they do so in a human body? Must it require the

special powers of a supernatural God to make it happen; to give

them animation? I think not. I think that when a set of elements

are arranged in a certain way, it can start a very particular kind

of causal process – producing change, transformation. Consider

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 151

the very simple case where hydrogen and oxygen undergo a

process of bonding. Before that, they are two gasses, and both

combustible.’ (I accidentally said ‘compustible’ due to the wine

but no one seemed to notice, or they were becoming equally

aff ected so let it go.)

‘But when they bond, they undergo a transformation. Th e

bonding involves their sharing electrons; thus, the parts are

changed through partaking in the whole. And we are left with a

whole that then has very diff erent properties from the parts.

Th ey form water, which far from being compustible (I said

again), actually can put out fi re.

‘Of course, I have far from explained how the basic ingredients

can compose a living organism, but I think this answers the

philosophical and conceptual problem. It shows there is no

reason in principle why lifeless parts have to make a lifeless

whole. If these elements come together in the right way, then the

whole that they make can have new properties, not present in the

original parts before their transformation.

‘I think that plain old nature, with regular causal processes

can do this. Th e parts need to be in a very particular and special

arrangement – make no mistake about that – but it is one that

can arise naturally and, as we know, once in nature, life can self-

replicate that same special arrangement.’

I felt pleased with this answer. I don’t know if Marie was

happy. She didn’t look entirely convinced. But I was sure it was

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right even if she couldn’t see it. She wasn’t a philosopher aft er all,

but I was, and in my expert opinion this was a fi ne response. It

showed that divine supernatural powers were not needed. Nor

were miracles.

‘Enough about God,’ interjected Inger. ‘Th at’s just one side of

your equation. What about the other? What you have said about

science can also be challenged.’

‘And philosophy,’ added Petter. ‘I think some philosophers

would have problems with your view too.’

‘Very well, both of you. I am happy to address these matters.

Which shall I answer fi rst?’

‘Go ahead,’ said Petter to Inger.

‘No,’ said Inger. ‘You are our host and I think you should have

your say before me, especially as you and Ben are both

philosophers.’

Back home, the host might have protested that the guest has

priority but here Petter was willing to proceed. As he talked,

Inger helped Marie clear away the plates and bring out a desert

of stewed apple. I didn’t know whether, in doing so, they were

taking the opportunity to avoid listening to philosophy.

Petter began and I drank my wine as I listened.

‘My problem is simple,’ he said. ‘Don’t you start from the

wrong place in your reasoning and eff ectively infer what is

already well known from what is less well known?’

I asked for further explanation.

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 153

‘Well, let me see now,’ continued Petter, and I allowed him to

develop his point without interruption.

‘It sounds to me as if you have reasoned from the reality of

the external world to the existence of the thinking mind.

But don’t we all accept that nothing is better known than the

contents of one’s own mind. So one shouldn’t be starting from

the outside world, which is known with far less certainty, and

then following what its existence implies. Th is is what I think

you did. Rather, you should start from individual experience,

which all of us have and know, and then deduce what can be

known from that. With suffi cient arguments, this might include

the external world. But that is not the place to begin, as I think

that you did.’

I could understand his point, as a fellow philosopher.

‘So I’m tempted to conclude that your philosophy is the wrong

way round. We should start with what we know with certainty

and then follow a chain of reasoning that allows us to confi rm

the existence of something originally less certain. In starting

with external and real causation, you have reversed the tradition

of our discipline and it makes me reluctant to follow you. What

have you got to say?’

I did not rush to answer. Indeed, I reached for the wine and

refi lled my glass. Biret remained attentive as did Bård. And Inger

was back at the table now as the guests started eating their apples,

except Bård, who had refused his.

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‘Petter is right,’ I conceded, ‘that we oft en think of our

individual experience as that which is best known. Some say it is

the thing we know with the most certainty. But I believe this

common view is a mistake and has been damaging to philosophy.

I should add that I don’t agree with the way Petter has

characterised my argument, as one way of putting it is that from

the existence of my own thought, which I know I have, I can

infer the existence of language and from that the existence of

society, and fi nally, from that, I know that causation must be real

as a precondition of all those earlier things.

‘However: no matter. I accept that I fi rst started my reasoning

from features in the external world: that there was causation and

society, and then brought in the consideration of language and

thought. In that respect, you are right, Petter. I was going from

the outer to the inner, against traditional thinking in philosophy.

I am not opposed to arguing against the tradition,’ I said, and I

lift ed my head proudly as I did.

‘I have always thought that it is a mistake to start with the

mind – the individual self – and reason outwards. Many have

tried this and, for example, tried to construct a defensible theory

of causation just from the succession of experiences that we all

have. I experience the drinking of water, for example, and then a

feeling that my thirst has gone, and from this I am supposed to

gain the idea of water having an eff ect on me. Th is is altogether

wrong and I don’t believe it will work.’

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 155

I started to feel more confi dence now. I was answering all the

questions they could throw at me.

‘Instead, it has to be accepted that without the outside, without

the social situation, there is no person, no thinking thing. We

are born with just the necessary raw materials to be a thinking

thing – a mobile body and an adaptable brain – but what we are

is made by the infl uences of our setting. It is as if our mind is

made by its environment.

‘To make the claim more concrete, please note that I have

concentrated in my arguments on the role of language. I can be a

language user only because I am surrounded by others who use

the same language and we keep each other on course, using our

words correctly to express a shared meaning.

‘In being part of such a linguistic community, I have concepts

to hand that allow me to think. Th us, I am changed by being part

of this whole, much as I said that the hydrogen and oxygen atoms

are by being part of a water molecule. My mind and my thinking

depends on this interaction; that is, it depends on the reality of

causation. Hence, I am right to take causation as the thing that is

real, fundamental, and fi xed. Th e contents of my own mind are,

in that sense, secondary and thus not a safe grounding alone on

which to rest my philosophy.’

Biret gave me spontaneous applause at that point, for having

presented such a convincing and original argument. ‘Skål’,

she suddenly called, and everyone except Bård raised their

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glasses to have another drink. I took this as an opportunity to

salute Biret.

When the next bottle was brought out, Biret told the table that it

was the one I had bought, and there were some approving remarks.

She was at that moment distracted when Marie raised a

conversation with her about her plans for Kautokeino, asking her

about the learning of the language and whether she thought it

would truly help with her learning the ways of her grandparents.

Th is meant Biret had to end her eye contact with me and several

other breakaway conversations started around the table.

I was for a time left alone with no one to talk to and as I

feigned interest in the chess game, which seemed to be reaching

a crucial point – Ragnhild on top – my thoughts turned to the

fact that tomorrow I would be leaving Bakkan. A resumption of

my normal life would, perhaps, be welcome, but all I could think

of was that I would not see Biret. It was to be my fi nal night with

her; and Marie was occupying her attention.

I spoke up, raising my voice above everyone else, to remind us

all that Inger had a question about science that she had kindly

put on hold and wasn’t it time to return to that matter?

‘Ah, yes, fi nally,’ said Inger. She too sounded intoxicated and I

noticed a confi dence and directness in her voice that I had never

heard before from her.

‘I am a scientist,’ she started, ‘and I feel I must at least off er

some defence of my own approach to these matters.

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‘I am not at all antagonistic to philosophy,’ she made clear, ‘but

I think that all subject areas have a proper place and role to play.’

‘I agree,’ said Odd, off ering his wife approval.

‘Well,’ she continued, ‘you make it sound as if your approach

can tell us all we need to know about causation. But I am sure that

you need more besides. Indeed sometimes it sounds as if you do

not fully know what you are talking about, with all due respect.

‘In particular, I think that you have to start from a study of the

reality and seeing how causal connections really operate in the

world, by which I mean the world that we investigate with our

senses; not your world of Platonic Forms.

‘I’ve noted, for instance, that philosophers in the past have

argued over some of the features of causation as if that matter

can be settled without bothering to look.’

‘Can you give me an example?’ I asked. My speech was slurred.

‘Yes,’ said Inger. ‘Some philosophers have said that a cause

must always occur before its eff ect – I mean before in time. But

then I hear others deny this and say that causes can be

simultaneous with their eff ects. But what they don’t seem to

acknowledge in all this speculation – I can’t see that it is anything

more than that – is that they need to look at some real cases of

causation to test their theories. It seems to me an empirical

question whether causes come before their eff ects. I have heard

from Odd of some experiments in physics where the eff ect seems

to occur immediately – instantly – once the cause occurs.’

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Odd nodded.

‘Now I don’t understand all this and the details do not matter

at this moment. But I think that you should grant that these

questions must be settled scientifi cally, according to the facts,

rather than in your untutored, and I might say ignorant, way.’

At that I almost exploded. I felt anger rising in me and for a

few moments that I could lose control. How rude of her. Was it

just the alcohol talking? She had never been so blunt with me

before. I supposed that Odd had told her all about our earlier

conversation, some days past, and she had decided to take his

side. Well, that is very loyal, if she had, but then that just makes

them both wrong.

Everyone could see that I had become red in the face and

their stares just made me want to turn the table over and storm

out. Imagine all this happening aft er I had been so courteous to

everyone and attended the dinner like a grateful guest.

I was just about to issue a sharp rebuke to Inger when Petter

stopped me.

‘Benedict,’ he said. ‘It is very warm in this room now with our

stove and all these people eating and talking. Won’t you join me

outside for a few moments to take some fresh air? You look hot,

which is how I feel, so I think we would both enjoy a few moments

to cool down: just a few before the night freezes us.’

I said that it would be a pleasure to join Petter and I got up

with him, my anger distracted.

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 159

Biret, Marie, Inger and Odd seemed to launch into an

animated discussion in Norwegian, none of them taking the

chance to join us.

* * * * *

I stood outside for a few moments, enjoying the cold air on

my face. Petter and I both looked up and saw a spectacular

aurora borealis, bright green, stretching across the night

sky.

‘Th at is amazing,’ I commented. ‘Should I tell the others to

come out?’

Th ere was no need, Petter assured me. Th e lights come to

Bakkan many nights. It was beautiful but they had all seen them

before. Leave them to their squabbling, he suggested, so that we

could enjoy the night sky in peace.

‘Beautiful,’ I said.

With that, we both fell into silence, rest and calm, which I

could tell Petter enjoyed just as much as I did. Th is lasted for a

few peaceful minutes . . .

But the warmth we had built up and stored was soon exhausted

by the crisp air and we had to re- enter the room.

* * * * *

Cheese and crackers were now laid out on the table. As soon as I

sat back down, I wanted to reply to Inger. I admit that I felt

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slightly emotional, for some reason. Was that just because of my

feelings for Petter and for Biret? And leaving?

‘Inger, let me tell you how much I appreciate your question,’ I

began, doing my best to sound as though I meant it, for at that

time I think I did.

‘I believe that you are absolutely right that the question of

which things cause which other things is entirely a matter for

science to answer. Science is our best way to fi nd what specifi c

facts there are about the world. But you know that I think there

has to be a philosophical and conceptual analysis which precedes

that. Someone can only say that they have discovered a case of

causation if they have a prior notion of causation which the new

case satisfi es.

‘And let me tell you this. During the course of this week I have

been woken in the night several times by the sound of the whale

that is currently visiting the fj ord.’

I could see more than one person around the table smile at

this – and almost laugh – but I was insistent.

‘Well, let me tell you something about this whale.

‘As I understand it, the whale is a very wise old creature. She

knows that it’s best not to bother us humans up above.’

‘It’s a He,’ interjected Inger.

‘What makes you so sure?’ I asked.

‘Didn’t you say that you heard its song?’

‘Yes I did,’ I confi rmed. ‘In the night. It sang me to sleep.’

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‘Th en it’s a male,’ said Inger. ‘Only the males sing. Unless you

want to contradict science with your philosophy again.’

I ignored the sarcasm. I did not want to be defl ected from

my point.

‘I defer to your expertise, Inger. My whale is a He. And he’s

happy to stay hidden under the water so that we don’t get in each

other’s way. We rarely see each other. But how do you and I know

he’s there, then, you might ask.

‘Well, there are enough signs. Th e water is sometimes agitated,

the fi sh stocks get depleted, and people like me can hear him

breathing and singing. It is a song, yes.

‘So we cannot look directly upon the whale as a proof that it

is really there. But we have evidence, from the indications that it

leaves for us that it has been. You could think of these as

symptoms of a whale visit. Th ese symptoms are enough for me to

infer the whale is there. But they are not the whale. Th e whale is

not its song: it makes its song, which I can then take as a reliable

indication that it’s there.

‘I think the sciences are in that position in relation to causation.

Science oft en involves the drawing of a causal inference from

what is observed. A scientist never sees causation directly but can

only infer it is there, for instance, from regular patterns of events.

Th e nature of causation itself cannot be a purely scientifi c matter,

then, because you scientists only record the data. You are never

dealing with anything more than the symptoms of causation,

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found in that data. To understand the elusive nature of causation

itself, like that elusive whale, you have to come to the likes of me.’

‘Nonsense,’ declared Odd resoundingly.

‘Oh, I’ve listened to this all night, and kept my thoughts to

myself, but this is too much, ikke sant? Too much . . .

‘Th e whale is perfectly knowable by science. We can shoot

him with a harpoon and haul him out of the water. We can even

dissect him and learn everything there is to know about him. I

really don’t think you philosophers can tell us about the real

essence of a whale any more than you can tell us the real essence

of this causation thing that you are always talking about.’

I looked to Petter for some support. Once again he frustrated

me, sitting silently by and allowing his neighbour to assault me

with such vicious words.

‘If you ask me, philosophy is just created to keep people in

work who have nothing useful that they can do. Th ey say they

seek the truth but cannot be bothered to get off their chairs and

go and look for it. Nor can they be bothered to learn the precise

methods of science, because the training is too long and

demanding, ikke sant? Tell us, Ben, why are you a philosopher, if

I have not identifi ed the right reason there?’

‘I am a philosopher because I respect the truth above

everything else,’ I replied defi antly, ‘and I am convinced that

philosophy is the right way to fi nd it, certainly for the sorts of

question I address. How can you say that I have any other motive?

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 163

I am passionate about the truths of philosophy: I have given my

life to their pursuit. It seems to me that the problem is mainly

that you don’t understand what philosophy is.’

‘Surely there are other motives for a clever man like you,

Benedict,’ Odd came back. ‘You have made yourself a comfortable

living, with wealth and fame, by being a professor of philosophy.

You don’t have to get your hands dirty as we do in the north of

Norway. You can have everything taken care of for you. And then

you publish your books and have the admiration and praise of

your readers. What a comfortable life that is.’

I replied ‘I don’t think you understand the pain of philosophy

and the frustrations that we philosophers go through – don’t we,

Petter – when we are struggling with the truth. When we are

unable to fi nd answers, we almost feel like killing ourselves, don’t

we Petter?’

I looked to Petter for a nod, but there was none. I realised that

I needed to make a convincing case.

So I thought.

‘Let me tell you,’ I started, ‘. . . about the myth of Gyges’ ring,

except that in my version of the story, the ring has a diff erent

ability from the one that is best known.’

Petter already knew the original tale but none of the others

said they did so I needed to tell it in full, and I added all the new

embellishments I wanted.

‘Here is my story . . .

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‘Gyges was out walking among the rocks one day when his

eye was caught by something on the ground that was shining. He

went to look closer and found that it was a golden ring. It was a

regular circle except for a fl attened top that was decorated with a

letter T. He liked the ring – perhaps it was also valuable – so he

tried it on and found that it fi tted his longest fi nger perfectly.

Quite happy with his unexpected fi nd, he walked on and went

about his daily business.

‘Gyges continued to wear the ring aft er he returned home. But

he also noticed something very strange going on around him. To

his surprise and puzzlement, he realised that when he now spoke,

everyone who heard seemed to believe what he said in its entirety.

Th is was astonishing to Gyges because, like everyone else, he was

used to listeners doubting what he said occasionally, or even

arguing with him, over whether something was true or not. Th is

came to light only gradually at fi rst, when he ventured opinions

that he knew were controversial, but only to fi nd that everyone

believed that opinion. He started to wonder whether people

would believe anything that he said. To test this, he casually

slipped into conversation some obvious untruths, such as that it

was summer when he knew it was winter, and to his amazement,

he found that people consented to his version of events. As he

continued with these experiments, he even had one elderly man

agree with him that he, Gyges, was that man’s mother. Aft er a

number of such absurd claims went unchallenged, he started to

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 165

think that everyone would believe anything that he said, for this

trick seemed to work on any person with whom he tried it.

‘But there was something else to this. One day Gyges removed

his gold ring, bearing the letter T, to go and bathe and then he

forgot to put it back on aft erwards. He went about his business and

happened to say something false, unthinkingly, only to fi nd that

the listener shook his head and said “I don’t think so”. Th is was a

shock for Gyges as it had by now been some weeks since anyone

challenged his assertions. So he ran to fi nd someone else and

talked about who should be next leader of the country. He ventured

his opinion and, again, his listener disagreed.

‘Th e thought occurred to Gyges that his special power of

being believable had worn off . But he needn’t have feared. When

he returned home, he saw his ring and realised he had not been

wearing it. When he put it back on, things were as they had been

previously; namely, that everyone believed him again.

‘I will spare you the details of all that happened following this.

Basically, he tried some time with the ring on and some time

with the ring off and formed the view, based on numerous trials,

that when he wore the ring people believed everything he said

was true. When he didn’t wear the ring, he was just like everyone

else, where people sometimes believe us and sometimes don’t.

From this evidence, he thought that the ring had to be the cause.

Th e ring possessed, he decided, a very special ability to make the

wearer believed, no matter what he or she said. Th e only exception

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to this was Gyges himself. He was immune to the extent that he

himself didn’t have to believe everything he said. He still knew

when he was saying something false. Th is, he realised, was very

useful.

‘He did wonder, though, why anyone would throw away such

a ring. So it must have been lost accidentally, he concluded.

‘Now that was not quite the end of the matter. For reasons I

need not go into, one day Gyges found himself wearing the ring

upside down; that is, with the T-emblem facing down, instead of

up and presentable to the world. Because it was now inside his

hand, no one he spoke to could see the T of his ring. What

happened in this case was even more astonishing to Gyges,

familiar, as he was, with always being believed. What he now

found was that others thought that everything he said was false,

even in those instances where Gyges was pretty sure that it was

true. To test this, Gyges said the most uncontroversial thing, such

as asserting at night time that it was the night. But even with

such an obvious truth as this, the listener disagreed. Gyges did

not like this at all, and already thinking the ring to be possessed

of magic powers, he quickly twisted it around so that the T was

back on top.’

‘Why are you telling us this silly story that could never be

true?’ interjected Inger.

‘Please, if you just let me fi nish, I hope you will see the point,’

I answered. And then I resumed.

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 167

‘Now with a few more experiments, Gyges was able to

confi rm that if he wore the ring the right way up, he was

always believed, and if he wore it upside down, he was never

believed. He concluded that the ring had these two powers: to

make the wearer believed or not believed, depending on how it

was worn.

‘I can now answer Inger about why it is worth telling such a

fantastic tale, even though I grant that it could never be true. Th e

point is that it allows us to ask a question. And it is the most

important question you will ever hear pass from my lips. It is a

question I would like you all now to consider.

‘It is this. Is it better to know the truth even if no one believes

you; or to have people believe what you say even when you know

it is false?’

I left the question hanging for some moments to give

everyone a chance to ponder it. I noted that even Ragnhild

and Solan had listened to my story and were thinking it

through.

Glances were exchanged around the table, each person trying

to see on the face of the others what their answers would be. Marie

spoke fi rst.

‘Would you really want to be believed if you knew you were

speaking falsely?’ she asked.

‘I do think so,’ I replied: ‘at least in some circumstances. Aft er

all, isn’t this the position of every successful liar? Some of our

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT168

most famed politicians are those who knowingly tell lies that

people believe. But I am asking you to consider, are they really

better off than those people who believe they are speaking the

truth, even though no one agrees with them?’

‘I can see that it would be frustrating,’ pointed out Biret, ‘to

know what you are saying is true and not to be believed.’

‘Yes, it is,’ I replied, and smiled knowingly at Biret. ‘If someone

has seen the Huldra, for instance, and no one believes him, this is

very annoying for the man. It can be more than frustrating. If no

one ever believes him, and he is sure he saw the Huldra, it would

take him to the brink of madness!’

Marie spoke out and said that if she were Gyges, she would

take the ring off and throw it away. It was evil. It was no good for

people always to believe you, nor for people always to doubt you.

What everyone needed, and should want, is that others believe

them when they speak the truth and challenge them when they

speak falsely. Otherwise, she said, how do we ever correct our

own misapprehensions?

I immediately told Marie that I agreed with that. It seems that

one can only ever learn if one is willing to be told that one is

wrong, when one is wrong, otherwise one would persist in

believing falsely, which no one really wants.

‘So this brings us to the crux of the matter,’ I adjudicated. ‘Let

us forget about the ring, now, for it was only a way of getting to

the key question of truth. Would you rather believe a truth even

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 169

though everyone else thinks it is false: and perhaps thinks you a

fool for believing it? Or would you prefer for people always to

agree with you, no matter what?’

Bård spoke up. ‘I think the ring, and the question, are not so

far- fetched. When somebody loves you, they tend to believe

everything you say. But then when they stop loving you, they

tend to believe nothing you say.’

Almost everyone around the table laughed at this observa-

tion, while also realising that Bård was probably not trying to

be amus ing. Perhaps it was the tragedy of that life- truth that

amused them.

Biret now spoke out. ‘I suppose that the truth is what really

matters. But you admit it can be frustrating to know a truth when

no one believes you. As long as Gyges himself knows whether or

not he is speaking the truth, his life would be happier when

everyone believed him.’

‘Th at may be true,’ I replied to Biret, ‘although we may still

have to answer the sorts of worry Marie raised. Th ere could

actually be some value in having to convince people about what

you believe, otherwise you might start to lose a grip on what is

true and what is false.

‘So Biret has made me think of the last and fi nal way of asking

the question, and this is the formulation that forces the issue. Th e

question is simply this. Which is better of these two cases, and I

am off ering you only these two. Would you rather believe a truth

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT170

even though everyone else thinks it false, or believe a falsehood

with which everyone else agrees?

‘I am not now speaking of what happens in general – about what

happens every time. Here we just have two single statements. If you

believe the latter, everyone will agree that you are right. But it

happens to be false. If you believe the former, which is true, everyone

will think you are wrong. So which is best of these two options?’

‘And in both cases, you genuinely believe the claim that you

make?’ asked Petter, for clarifi cation.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Your belief in both cases is genuine. You believe

both of these things because you think them to be true. But you

were right only in the fi rst case.’

Finally, Odd spoke out. As usual, he had been hanging back,

slyly listening and planning his attack against me.

‘It is obvious how you want us to reply, Benedict. It’s like you

are leading us down the garden path.

‘You want us to say that it’s always better to know the truth,

even if you’re the only one that does. You want us to say that the

agreement of everyone else in the whole world matters not one

bit if what you believe is false. You want us to say that truth is all

that counts, don’t you?’

‘Well, isn’t that right?’ I replied. ‘What other sane response

could you have to the question?’

‘But do you really believe it, Ben? Or is this just about that

stupid whale again?’

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 171

How insulting of Odd. But it was what I had come to expect. I

tried not to show any of my anger, which was rising again.

‘Yes, I believe it,’ I said assertively. ‘Th e truth is all that matters.

And if you have it, then that is more important than whether

other people believe you. Perhaps it is nice when others agree

with you, or good to feel that you have shown someone the truth

when they previously did not know it. But these are not the

essential matters. Truth is sovereign. And that is what my

question was designed to show. We all want to know the truth,

fi rst and foremost, regardless of what others think, because we

would always prefer to know the true than to believe the false.

And all the agreement in the world from others would not

compensate for believing a falsehood.’

Odd did not give up. ‘Maybe you are right then. You have

convinced me,’ he said. And for a moment I hoped that my task

this evening was complete and I could go and stagger off down

the hill to have my fi nal night of sleep in the cabin.

‘But,’ he continued, ‘what I am not convinced of is that you

really believe this. Isn’t this all just appearance? You tell us that

you believe only in truth. You have to say this to be a credible

philosopher. But is that really all you believe in?’

I was provoked. ‘Of course it’s what I believe in. How can you

doubt me aft er all I have said?’

‘Words are fi ne,’ replied Odd. ‘But your actions betray a diff erent

reality. If you really believed that truth was all that mattered you

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT172

should be happy simply to know the truth. You wouldn’t even

need to tell anyone else about it. So why have you come here to

Bakkan to tell us all what you think and try to persuade us that it

is right? Our approval is irrelevant to you, isn’t it?’

What an insult that was. I had never once gone infl icting my

views on others. I was here precisely to discover the truth.

Nothing more. And I told him that each time I had related my

ideas to the others it was because I had been invited to do so; and

this was sometimes against my own wishes. But I was merely

sharing ideas among friends in any case and it should not be

regarded as a bad thing. I would never impose my ideas on other

people if they didn’t want to hear them. I had been asked.

Odd wouldn’t let it go. ‘Th at’s laughable,’ he said, and I felt my

anger rise to breaking point.

‘You have written lots of papers and books, haven’t you? And

in not one case was it because you had been asked to do so,’ he

asserted. ‘You decided to write them because you wanted to,

because it would further your career. Th ey are an imposition,

published as a self- serving vanity.’

I said ‘No, categorically not! As long as I understand the truth,

it doesn’t matter to me whether anyone reads my books. I like to

write because it helps me to order my own thoughts. But it is not

as if I am trying to “sell” my ideas. People can take them or leave

them. And it doesn’t really even matter whether my writing

makes it into the public arena or not.’

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 173

‘Very well, then.’ Odd said. ‘If you really are being truthful

with us now, this minute, then you should be prepared to write

up all the ideas you have had here in Bakkan – which you have

told us are really very important ideas and the solutions to all

your problems – and let them sit in a closed drawer rather than

see the light of day. You should agree in front of all of us here

tonight that you will not publish these ideas for the public within

your lifetime.’

Everyone around the table looked at me.

‘How could that work?’ I asked.

‘It would be simple enough,’ said Odd. ‘Once your ideas are

written down, lodge the manuscript with your solicitor with an

instruction that it cannot be published until aft er your death.

Leave the details to your executor. And that way we will all know,

and believe you, that the truth is your only concern, rather than

book sales or the admiration of readers.’

With Odd’s challenge, I realised that I was trapped. How could

I not agree to those terms? I would seem a hypocrite if I didn’t.

I looked around the room. Th e faces stared back, waiting on

my answer. Odd and Inger seemed to have some glee on theirs.

From Petter, Bård and, I think, Marie, there was a look of pity.

Th e children were playing still, with very few pieces now left .

‘Ah, the endgame,’ I thought to myself.

Only Biret seemed to look upon me in a way that granted me

my dignity. Her eyes evinced sympathy and care but, I thought,

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT174

without condescension. I supposed that, perhaps, she still

believed in me. I could not let her down. She trusted me, I

believed. I couldn’t admit to her that I was a fraud, insecure, a

worthless attention seeker.

Th ere was no choice. I looked straight at Odd. I tried to appear

defi ant, unrepentant, unmoved. I tried to sound calm and

measured. I held my chin up.

And then I declared ‘You might not have believed me until

now. What I say is right.

‘Truth is all that matters. And so I will agree to your demand

in every detail. I will indeed write down all these thoughts I have

had in Bakkan. And I will be content with that. I am satisfi ed that

I have found the truth. It is the only matter. I will leave it with my

solicitor. I agree that it will not see publication or any form of

public release until aft er I am dead.’

It was the end of the argument.

‘Sjakk Matt!’ called Ragnhild. With that, I saw that Solan was

defeated.

* * * * *

I carried my burden out of that house and by Northern Light

made my way tentatively downhill. My thoughts turned to the

question of what I had learnt on this visit to Bakkan. I had spent

these days thinking about philosophy and, I now realised, the

world in general. Undeniably I had been changed by my six days

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 175

in the Arctic but in ways I did not yet fully understand. I had

come exclusively for solitude and quiet meditation. I had not got

that. But I had found some truths: truths which I had now

promised I wouldn’t reveal. Was knowledge consolation enough?

Did I believe my own story of Gyges? How unreasonable it had

been of those around me to insist I keep this whole story a secret.

Yet, I was struck by something else about them too.

When I considered my time here, I saw that all the main

breakthroughs in my thinking were not really a result of

meditation. Th ey came from my interactions with the others. I

saw the light catch Ragnhild’s axe before it came down and

smashed apart the fi rewood and this made me see the

fundamentality of causation. I had been challenged by Odd

to show that science could not deny the reality of causation

because it rested upon it. And Bård had then come and made

me explain how God could fi t into this world, which I later

developed in answer to Marie and Biret, just this night.

And Biret . . . wasn’t she the biggest inspiration of all? She

made me understand the importance of language in holding a

people together and I saw that this had to involve their interaction.

But I recalled also, and perhaps more importantly, that Biret

made me see the sun. Might I otherwise have stayed, throughout

my time, in my cabin, like some kind of prehistoric cave- dweller?

Th en I would have stayed forever in the winter darkness, doing

my thinking by candlelight. Th e brightness was too much for me,

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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT176

and for all of us, when earlier in the day the sun fi nally appeared

over the mountains. We had to look away. But I now realised that

this was oft en the way. Just like the light, truth is hard to accept at

fi rst, especially aft er emerging from the darkness of falsehood.

Th e only option is to turn away, and that is what Odd, Inger and

Bård did. At least I could recognise the truth as the truth.

Almost at the bottom of the hill, and my cold, dark cabin, I

saw a stirring in the fj ord. Th e surface was broken by a big tail fi n,

which smacked down on the water, creating a huge splash.

Th en it went back below and was gone, all quiet again. I waited

and watched. For how long? I wasn’t sure. But I know that I

started to shiver. Could I really have imagined the whale song

those nights? Did I not see the tail fi n, twice today? I would have

to be completely deluded to have conjured up these experiences

for myself.

I was about to give up and started considering whether it was

worth lighting a fi re at this late hour. I made to move and so to

complete the last few steps of my night. Suddenly, I was awe-

struck by the sight and sound – which I’d never before witnessed

– of the humpback breaching out of the water. It leapt up, a huge

and wonderful creature, head fi rst, almost straight vertically, but

then turning. When it reached a horizontal position, I swear its

entire body was out of the water. Overcome by a sense of wonder,

I stopped breathing, open mouthed. And it was then with a

magnifi cent, deep, booming, echoing impact that the whale

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OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 177

landed back down in the water, the splash seemingly disturbing

the whole fj ord.

Th e spectacle seemed unmissable and unmistakable. I turned

and looked back towards the house. I could just make out the

light from a window at which I saw the silhouette of someone

looking. Looking down. On me. I stared back. But there was no

movement.

I went into my cabin and got straight into the bed and slept.

* * * * *

Th e next morning I rose early and didn’t bother to light the stove.

I dressed quickly and, under cover of darkness, left my hut for

the fi nal time. I had brought everything of mine down from the

house last night so that I needn’t disturb Petter and his family as

I made my departure. I could not resist walking to the end of the

pier for one last look, staring out into the black water of the fj ord.

I took a few moments for one fi nal meditation. Others had trod

this earth before me and many more would do so aft erwards. We

were all seekers aft er truth and yet, in our short lives, none of us

could catch more than a glimpse of it. To be a drop in that vast

ocean was perhaps as much as we could ever hope.

I picked up my baggage, ascended the slippery slope, and

vanished down the path out of Bakkan.


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