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Friday, November 15, 2024

OCEANOGRAPY

CRYPTOZOOLOGY

Theory emerges after fish from dark legend washes up on beach
SEA SERPENT CRYPTID

Scientists are analysing the body of a three-metre-long 'doomsday' fish which was discovered dead on a beach.


Michael Dahlstrom
·Environment Editor
Wed 13 November 2024 

A rare 'Doomsday fish' was found on Grandview Beach in Encinitas and was spotted by Scripps Oceanography PhD candidate Alison Laferriere. Source: Alison Laferriere/Scripps Institution of Oceanography


A giant oarfish has been photographed washed up on a rocky beach. It’s the second time the remains of this rarely encountered species have been documented off the southern Californian coast this year, and scientists are working on a theory as to why.

For centuries, dark legends have linked the species to natural disasters like earthquakes, leading to it being colloquially referred to as the “doomsday fish”. There has been speculation the deep sea species could be brought to the surface during underwater tremors, although this has not been scientifically proven.

After the first oarfish was discovered in August near San Diego, California, a 4.4-metre magnitude earthquake was detected in Los Angeles, prompting some locals to discuss the superstition.


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Legend links oarfish to earthquakes, although there is no scientific evidence linking them to the disasters. Source: Alison Laferriere/Scripps Institution of Oceanography
'Devil wind' theory linked to 'Doomsday' fish death

The latest discovery occurred last week at Grandview Beach in San Diego County. The three-metre-long fish was discovered by a student at Scripps Institution of Oceanography, the institute that analysed the last specimen.

The body was collected and hauled to a research facility, where samples were collected to try and understand more about the fish. While the cause of death is yet to be determined, the Institute has formed two possible theories.

Its marine vertebrate collection manager Ben Frable said, “it may have to do with changes in ocean conditions and increased numbers of oarfish off our coast. Many researchers have suggested this as to why deep-water fish strand on beaches.”

“Sometimes it may be linked to broader shifts such as the El Niño and La Niña cycle but this is not always the case. There was a weak El Niño earlier this year.”

Frable also noted the beaching coincided with the recent red tide, a type of algal bloom that produces toxins that can kill people, marine life and birds.

The coast was also struck by strong, extremely dry Santa Ana winds, also known as "Devil winds" which can cause cold water to rise from below the surface layer of the ocean, and trigger large waves. In popular culture they're rumoured to affect people's moods, and during the hotter months they're known to fuel out-of-control wildfires.

"Many variables could lead to these strandings,” Frable added.

In September, two Aussie fisherman caught an oarfish off the Top End. The long, slender fish is rarely seen in Australian waters


Newly discovered creature the 'size of two basketball courts' photographed underwater


The 'mega' coral is believed to be the world's largest – and could hold a special key for scientists.



Michael Dahlstrom
·Environment Editor
Updated Thu 14 November 2024


The "mega coral" was discovered off the Three Sisters island group in the Solomon Islands. Source: Steve Spence/National Geographic Pristine Seas


An ancient marine organism has been detected underwater by a research vessel north of Australia. At 34 metres wide, 32 metres long and 5.5 metres high, and with a circumference of 183 metres, the discovery team described it as being as big as two basketball courts or five tennis courts.

Described as a “mega coral” by the discovery team from National Geographic, what’s remarkable about the find is that it is one standalone network of identical polyps, rather than a reef. It’s believed to be the world's largest coral after growing uninterrupted for 300 and 500 years in waters surrounding the Solomon Islands.

There are no records of the giant organism on the island, which has been inhabited by humans since between 28,000 and 30,000 BCE.

From National Geographic’s vessel Pristine Seas, the coral was initially thought to be a shipwreck, and it was only after underwater cinematographer Manu San Félix dipped under the waves that he found it was a brown, red, yellow and blue Pavona clavus – a widespread but rare stony coral.

An aerial photograph shared by the ship's crew shows the ocean giant compared to their vessel. Others taken underwater show hundreds of fish swimming around it, highlighting its important role as a marine habitat.

Although it appears stationary, coral is an animal. Each polyp has a mouth that opens directly into a stomach, which is surrounded by a circle of tentacles that are used for defence and attacking prey.

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World's largest coral discovered off Solomon Islands


National Geographic divers measure the massive coral. Source: Manu San Félix, National Geographic Pristine Seas
How important is this mega coral discovery?

Pristine Seas founder Enric Sala said the find was significant and compared it to discovering the world’s tallest tree. “Just when we think there is nothing left to discover on planet Earth, we find a massive coral made of nearly one billion little polyps, pulsing with life and colour,” he said.

While the coral discovery has caused elation, the Pristine Seas crew are concerned about its future. Because of its size and position deep in the ocean the coral appears to be healthy, but other parts of the reef which were closer to the surface were heavily degraded.

This week the IUCN announced 44 per cent of warm-water reef-building corals had now been added to its Red List of species threatened with extinction. Climate change remains the greatest threat to the world’s tropical reefs, and they are projected to decline by 70 to 90 per cent at 1.5 degrees of warming above preindustrial average temperatures. At 2 degrees of warming, 99 per cent will likely be lost.
What are the other largest organisms in the world?

Measuring more than 180 square km, the Posidonia australis seagrass meadow in Shark Bay is the largest plant.


At 115.55 metres, the world's tallest tree is the Hyperion, a coastal redwood in California.


The world's largest ever animal is the blue whale, which can grow to 30 metres long and weigh more than 180,000kg.

The giant organism is made up of genetically identical polyps. Source: Manu San Félix, National Geographic Pristine Seas

Coral key to island nation's survival

Following National Geographic’s announcement, Solomon Islands Prime Minister Jeremiah Manele said reefs were important in providing livelihoods for the region. “Our survival depends on healthy coral reefs, so this exciting discovery underlines the importance of protecting and sustaining them for future generations,” he said.

The coral is the summation of millions of identical polyps. Because it has lived for generations, the researchers believe it could hold important genetic information that could be key to coral survival during periods of climate change.

“It is a natural monument that has seen the arrival of the first Europeans to these waters,” said San Félix, who was the first to spot the record-breaking mass. "Illustrious figures of humanity have coexisted with this colony: Newton, Darwin, Curie, Gandhi, Einstein... and it has survived them. It now stores information on how to survive throughout the centuries,” he said.

Wednesday, September 25, 2024


Argentina's Milei criticizes 'Leviathan' UN, pledges 'agenda of freedom'

Nicolás Misculin
Tue, September 24, 2024 

World leaders take part in the 79th annual U.N. General Assembly high-level debate


By Nicolás Misculin

UNITED NATIONS (Reuters) - Argentina's brash libertarian President Javier Milei, speaking at the United Nations General Assembly, criticized the organization as a "Leviathan" monster, rej
ected its 'Pact for the Future' and pledged instead an "agenda of freedom."

In a fiery speech where he also said the UN had become "powerless" in its key role to help prevent conflicts, Milei attacked the body's future pact adopted on Sunday calling it "socialist" and said the UN's remit had become "distorted".


"It has become a multi-tentacled Leviathan that seeks to decide what each nation state should do and how the citizens of the world should live," the right-wing economist and former pundit said, a reference to the giant mythological sea serpent.

"The same always happens with the ideas of the left. They design a model according to what human beings should do, and when things turn out differently, they repress, restrict and curtail their freedom."

Milei, who clashes regularly with political opponents, is battling to restore economic stability in Argentina after years of crises, with tough austerity measures that are helping to turn around a deep fiscal deficit, but aggravating a recession.

Before he decided to run for president, the former TV "shock jock" commentator even attacked Pope Francis, calling him a "son-of-a-bitch preaching communism". The two, however, have sought to mend ties since Milei took office in December.

(Reporting by Nicolas Misculin and Lucila Sigal in Buenos Aires; Writing by Adam Jourdan)






Sunday, August 25, 2024

 

The return of the repressed: (Anti)religious anarchism and Protestant presuppositions

By Ausonia Calabrese, from Pleroma Distro

This article, foremost, is a response to a critique published on my work Against Individualism by a certain Aleph. In short, Aleph is not convinced of my account of the Creative Nothing and is concerned with a “Christian” basis for my mystical methods — among other minutiae. This, he feels, undermines my reading of the apophatic, unsayable Self beyond self, and problematizes my relationship to pagan authors like the divine Plotinus and Porphyry. I will explore all of these in-depth, as I am always one for meaningless chatter. However, this essay is also an exploration of what I believe to be one of the major problems of (anti)religious anarchists: the reproduction of an uncritical Protestant basis in its image of what the “religious” entails.

For those uninterested in long discussions of philology and theology (and for that I do not fault you), really only the final section (Coda) is important here — everything else is largely just apologia. Further, I apologize for the unfinished feel of this article. I began writing this shortly before leaving for an archaeological excavation and promptly forgot it after returning. I have finished it, practically, to get it off my to-do list. Nonetheless, I hope this can help problematize the assumptions at the base of (anti)religious anarchism and contribute to emerging modes of liberatory engagement with the sacred and profane.

Stirner, the dead man
The main part of Aleph’s argument is based on his reading of Stirner’s individual — that is, when Stirner speaks about the self, he is concerned with the liberal-enlightenment model of the individual as an atomized object in relation with other objects but nonetheless existing “in and of itself” — identified with a biological human subject: in his words, “that the central subject is still an individual, at least insofar as Stirner is quite explicit in that he is talking about himself, and therefore the I.”

Perhaps this is what Stirner intended (if we are to be beholden to authors and their intentions.) Even so, it is a surface-level, plain reading Stirner’s “I”, “mine”, or “own.” It is an indication of a very uncritical mode of analysis — a sterile lens concerned first and foremost with historical figures and their opinions, rather than the innately polyvocal, multifaceted nature of the text. The mystical mode of analysis eschews surface-level readings and searches for the hidden, that is to say occult, readings that lie secreted away in the crypt of inscriptions and epigraphs. Materialist analysis of heroic relics may reveal only bits of stone and cloth, even the bones of some extinct beast altogether unknown to our forebears — shrouded in the patina of superstitious cultural accretion. But the oil dripped on them is just as powerful, and I anoint myself with it nonetheless.

Certainly from a historical perspective Stirner is not a Christian, or even a theist. But I argue the apophatic method he deploys is nonetheless theological, and I argue this strategy can be traced to Hegel’s engagement with the Christian mystical tradition. It is entirely plausible, even certain, that Stirner would take great offense to my genealogical reading of the Creative Nothing. But that is of no importance to me. I take no shame in being a heretical Stirnerite, as I pay no heed to orthodoxy. Thus, when Aleph uses Stirner as an authority to transplant my own reading of the individual in juxtaposition with Platonism, it is irrelevant. I have little interest in being “authentic” to Stirner, or to Plotinus for that matter. I deploy their concepts for my own purposes, for my own uses — I suck out the marrow and toss away the bones. I can draw them out from their graves and make them speak blasphemous things for me, as I am the magus adept in such things. If I show them any piety, it is ritual piety, self-generation, in which I bring them within myself and abrogate the boundary between us. Thus: pseudepigrapha, in which I become Stirner, I become Plotinus.

Therefore, my project of drawing out the trace of apophasis in Stirner is a productive, rather than historical, method. Having identified this theological impulse in Stirner, I can apply a mystical reading to problematize or ambiguate the subject-object distinction. Such a mystical interpretation Stirner can thus read the “I” or “my own” in radically different ways: is this “I” Stirner, or is it “I” as the reader, who recites the passage in the very act of reading and thus speaks it? Indeed for all texts, is the narrator self or Other? For the mystic it is both, and it is neither. Failing to grasp this, Aleph misses the overall heart of my arguments, wondering only if what I say would be recognizable to a long-dead German.

The failure to grasp the finer, more esoteric points undermines the entire criticism that Aleph outlines. He is adamant that “mysticism and individualism, in the sense that Stirner allows us to understand the concept[s], are actually well-aligned with each other, in that both are ultimately similarly concerned with a black box subject.” On the other hand, my insistence that the “individual cannot be so” is two-fold: one, the vulgar notion of the ‘individual’ as the liberal model can indeed be divided and thus it is not truly in-divisble; and two, the One, the in-dividual, is not because it is prior to that which is. Indeed it is “not an in-dividual” in an ultimate sense — because binaries of in/divisibilty cannot grasp it. Being able to simultaneously affirm and negate a proposition is one of the properties of apophatic language, that is, a unity of opposites. But Aleph writes:

"Calabrese says that the individual is not so […but] the individual ultimately can’t not be so, because of n[t] very apophatic principle of the One."

In this he supplants mystical logic with Aristotelian analysis. It neither is an in-dividual nor dividual, and furthermore, it cannot be even this (“neither dividual nor in-dividual”) and so on. It is neither so, nor not-so, nor not-not-so. When Plotinus speaks on the Pythagorean etymology of Apollo, he notes that it results in “the apophasis of even that.” (Enneads 5.5.6-26-33, emphasis my own.) To affirm any single negation as “the final” negation is to reify the vacuity which animates apophasis — apophasis is characteristically marked by infinite, even fractal regress. Michael A. Sells, historian of Western mysticism, describes it thusly:

"Apophasis is a discourse in which any single proposition is acknowledged as falsifying, as reifying. It is a discourse of double propositions, in which meaning is generated through the tension between the saying an the unsaying."

Misunderstanding this, Aleph accuses me of establishing a mitigated dualism between nonbeing and being approaching that of Gnosticism. Such a wrongheaded analysis of Gnosticism aside, it reifies the animating vacuity; ignoring that I explicitly negate nonbeing in the text:

"…silence, nothing, nothing-past-negation, negation-of-the-negation-which-is-not-positive."

In short, the “negation-of-the-negation” of being is not simply nonbeing but something beyond both being and nonbeing. It is articulated outside of the Aristotelian logic of double-negation reduction. In the nihilist drive to negate all things, I negate even individualism and nihilism, and through this secret rite I reveal an in-dividualism: abnegation of the self, that is, ecstasy. In service of this goal, the final paragraph in Against Individualism begins to approach mystical poetry, complete with ecstatic shouts of homage, paradoxically accenting the first-person nature of the text. Per Sells, apophasis is the literary parallel of mystical union.

Late Platonism and the denial of self

Even further than my inauthenticity to Stirner, Aleph also argues that I am inauthentic to late Platonism because it does not “deny the individual.” Such a claim is also based on a fundamental misunderstanding of late Platonism. Indeed, in his discussion of late Platonism, it becomes clear that Aleph does not totally understand that the emanative unfolding of the One into the Many is both a cosmogony and an inverted description of mystical ascent: since this cosmogony is placed conceptually before the understanding of time, it should not be understood merely as a “creation myth” nor as the affirmation of the lowest tiers of emanation. It is beyond the three aeons of past, present, and future. Therefore the return to the One, completely exterior to relations of coming and going, is the very same process as the emanation from the One. Individuation and de-individuation are the same process: the turn-away is a turn-towards. This ἐπῐστροφή (epistrophḗ) of apophasis “entails a folding of the multitiered hierarchy of being back into itself to a moment of equality.” (Sells, p. 208) Late Platonic mystical ascent was marked by self-denial, in the sense of an undoing of self, because it is a means of working ‘up the ladder’ of creation. Thus the last words of Plotinus: “Strive to bring back the god in yourselves to the God in the All.” This is not Aleph’s only error when engaging with this tradition, but a brief historical overview of apophasis is needed to unpack this.

A traditional historiographical origin for apophasis in the Western tradition is Plato’s Parmenides, though the contours of religion in late antiquity enabled a cross-pollination between Egyptian, Jewish, Persian, and even Indian philosophy that makes any singular narrative of progression impossible. If Plato himself is to be trusted, then the roots of apophasis were already sowed by the pre-Socratics long before his compositions. The ἄπειρον (ápeiron) of Anaximander is an earlier possible origin, for example. This being said, Plotinus is the true watershed thinker in Western apophasis, generally considered the initiator of the late period of ancient Platonic philosophy (so-called “neoplatonism.”) Plotinus’ lineage continues through his student Porphyry, then his student Iamblichus (where a break occurs between his theory of god-working and the orthodox Platonism of Porphyry), then little-studied Plutarch, and finally Proclus. Plotinus, Porphyry, Iamblichus, Proclus are certainly the best representatives of pre-Christian apophasis. It is through Proclus that Platonism enters Christianity, particularly through a pseudepigraphic text entitled Mystical Theology, attributed to a certain Dionysius the Aeropagite. This character was lifted from a passage in Acts, mentioned in a single line as an early pagan convert. The influence of Dionysius on later Western mysticism cannot be overstated.

During the Renaissance, it was shown that Dionysius could not have predated the 6th century, as he shows a dependence on Proclus. He was most likely a student of the academy at Athens, as the theology he outlines is derivative of Proclus. Some scholars go further and propose that Pseudo-Dionysius was none other than Damascius, the so-called “last neoplatonist,” or as Bellamy Fitzpatrick shared with me, even Proclus himself. There is significant scholarly debate regarding whether Dionysius was a pagan, a Christian, or something in between. Regardless of what he may have identified as, he was clearly intimately familiar with both pagan and Christian philosophy — enough so that his philosophical influences were enough to out him as a pseudepigraphist. Thus, rather than “not understanding what the Platonists were saying,” many early Christians were very adept Platonists.

Of course, this is to say nothing of the late Platonist attitude towards Christianity. Aleph denies that late Platonists “had anything to do with monotheism,” attributing this to a “fraud” sustained by the closure of the Platonic Academy, or the “fact that the Christians simply didn’t understand what the [late Platonists] were saying.” However, it is abundantly clear from their own writing that they saw no cleft between monotheism and their own “monism” which Aleph defends.

For Aleph, afraid to give even the most superficial piece of territory to Christianity, the One is something which cannot be equated with the deeply personal Christian God. But the One, as the “divine principle, subsistence [sic], or ground” as Aleph describes it, is precisely what is meant by Western mystics when speaking of God, from the Corpus Hermeticum, to the mendicant saints of the counter-reformation, to modern revivalists such as Thomas Merton. Indeed, Plotinus writes that “God…is outside of none, present unperceived to all,” (p. 58) (although Plotinus does seem to make a distinction between the One and God — Sells writes that the Plotinian God is somewhere in the tension between the One and Nous). Porphyry [as identified by Pierre Hadot] explicitly equates the One with God. Franke points out this “historical irony”: Porphyry, “abominated as the enemy of Christianity…astonishingly anticipates the orthodox Christian thinking of God as Being itself.” (Franke, pp. 64-65) I would argue this is not so “astonishing,” as Porphyry was deeply interested in Judaism. The middle Platonist Plutarch of Chaeronea, writing in the character of his teacher Ammonius of Athens, argues that “Apollo is only a faint image of the real God,” equated with Being (to on). Plutarch’s Isis and Osiris describes Osiris in similar terms. Porphyry praises the monotheism of the Jews, citing none other than Apollo himself in De philosophia ex oraculis haurienda:

"Only Chaldaeans and Hebrews found wisdom in the pure worship of a self-born God."

Interestingly, Porphyry reverently calls Moses simply “the prophet” or “the theologian” (cf. De antro nympharum and Ad Gaurum.) Rather than being some opponent of monotheism, he was more concerned with Christianity’s novelty: Porphyry’s critique of Christianity is its apparent abandonment of Jewish tradition. (van der Horst) Porphyry traces the mystical lineage of Pythagoras to the Hebrews among others (De vita Pythagorica 11: “Then Pythagoras visited the Egyptians, the Arabians, the Chaldeans and the Hebrews, from whom he acquired expertise in the interpretation of dreams, and he was the first to use frankincense in the worship of divinities.”), which is repeated and extended by his student Iamblichus, in his own De vita Pythagorica. Porphyry’s high opinion of Judaism even led to the development of a legend that he was married to a Jewish woman. (van der Horst, pp. 188–202)

Porphyry was not the only late Platonist to admire Judaism, however. Numenius, one of the great Platonic philosophers prior to Plotinus who had a deep influence on Porphyry, went as far as to call Plato “nothing but a Moses who spoke Greek.” The late Platonist Cornelius Labeo equates the quadrivium of Hellenism with none other than the Jewish God, quoting Apollo again:

" [YHWh] is the supreme god of all. In winter he is Hades, when spring begins he is Zeus, in summer he is Helios, while in autumn he is the delicate Iacchus."

Even rank-and-file pagans were not nearly as anti-Christian as Aleph seems to imply. Jesus had a wide reputation as a powerful exorcist even among these polytheists. In Asia Minor and on the coast of the Black Sea, there was monotheistic cult dedicated to Zeus Hypsistos, which John North called a “pagan vision” of Judaism, and which Vasiliki Limberis attributed to a syncretism between Zeus Sabazios and the Jewish God. Further, despite Aleph’s study of the PGM, he does not seem to have picked up on the constant usage of the name of Jesus or Hebraic-Aramaic barbaric names throughout the entire corpus. There is a curious curse conjuration in No. 9. PGM XII.376-96 which mentions Jesus alongside Amun and Bast:

"I call upon you, great god, Thathabathath Pepennabouthi Peptou Bast Jesus Ouair Amoun …. Let her, N.N., lie awake thought the whole night and day, until she dies, immediately, immediately, quickly, quickly."

Other examples are not hard to locate. My “conflation” of a monotheistic God with the One is clearly in line with Platonism, despite any Protestant neopagan pearl-clutching. Indeed, such a close intertwining of these traditions make Aleph’s claim that I rely on “Christian negation” rather than a pagan apophasis meaningless. First, as I identify the root of Stirner’s apophatic argument in Christian mysticism, it is entirely “authentic” to the Christian mystical tradition to give recourse to pagan philosophers. Second, Christian mysticism can only be fully understood in the context of Hellenistic mysticism from which it is derived. This is apparently met with revulsion from Aleph. When I cite none other than Anaximander: “What is divine? That without beginning, without end” — it is apparently shocking enough to attribute it to “esoteric and mystical pagan theology” rather than “religion.” Later, Aleph notes the fact that despite the “rhetoric of Christian mysticism and apophasis,” my antecedent is “none other than Plotinus […] and the other Neoplatonists.” Noting this at all is strange: I have always located my mystical works as flowering from the Platonic tradition and I have never denied this. Even in Against Individualism, I call Plotinus “[t]he great neoplatonist sage” and I make reference to his refusal of portraiture in Porphyry’s De vita plotini

Having no loyalty to Christianity or paganism, I am unperturbed by sectarian boundaries between “Christian” and “pagan” philosophy and I see no need to respect them. In the face of orthodoxy, Christian or pagan, I am a heretic.

The return of the repressed

I believe this illustrates an uncritical acceptance of a Protestant theology which consciously rejected the “superstitious” or even “magical” philosophy of the Catholics who they opposed, which eschewed esotericism in favor of radically exoteric “plain” reading. Therefore for Aleph, the esoteric and Christianity are radically opposed, and the esoteric itself must be the very doctrines rejected in evangelical Protestantism. Protestantism, indeed, demarcates the entire horizon of religious thought: Aleph allows this repressed Protestant theology to shape his understanding of Christian-pagan relationships in antiquity. Whereas the line between monotheism and polytheism in the late Roman Empire was ambiguous and seemed to cause no problem for pagan philosophers such as Numenius, Plutarch, and Porphyry, Aleph anachronistically projects a hard boundary backwards in time to fit a sectarian view, in particular, some sort of “hard polytheism” understood as antithetical to Christianity — indeed, probably constructed specifically to oppose Christianity. In service of this goal he grossly overstates the animosity between Christianity and Platonism in the first few centuries of the common era. In his introduction to Porphyry, he writes that

"[Porphyry] was also very notably anti-Christian, having written polemic works against Christianity in defense of pre-Christian polytheism, such as Against The Christians, which was banned by the Roman Empire under Constantine I and burned by order of Theodosius II."

Let us put aside the simple fact that Constantine banned no books, let alone Adversus Christianos. This strongly implies that Porphyry, ever the philosemite and defender of monotheism, was defending a sort of hard polytheism in the face of Christian opposition. This hard boundary is fundamentally Christian, derived from a Christian theology exterior to classical paganism; thus Aleph constructs his new paganism in deference to the Christian memory of paganism. It is a Christian impulse to deftly oppose monotheism and polytheism against each other, where this distinction is important in the context of Mosaic law: thou shalt have no other gods before me. It is of little importance to classical paganism, especially not that of Platonists in late antiquity.

In the history of neopaganism, Christianity has historically determined the boundaries of thought and the basic axioms of religious practice. This is illustrated almost perfectly in the history of traditional witchcraft or Wicca. Appropriating then-current theories of a witch-cult survival throughout Europe, they claimed their movement was a genuine remnant of pre-Christian religion, more or less fabricating a mythology of an underground initiatory society which survived “the burning times.” However, the witch-cult hypothesis has been thoroughly debunked — a close reading of those killed during the early modern witch trials were regular Christians caught up in a frenzy of inquisitorial fervor derived from antisemitic pogroms: the Hammer of the Witches was wholesale adapted from the Hammer of the Jews.

Aleph’s vision of “Satanic Paganism” perfectly illustrates this reliance Christianity. It focuses on a soteriology which is defined in reference to Christianity (“pre-Christian practice”), compared to the temptation in the Garden, and is explicitly proposed as in opposition to “God […and] his Son”, even reproducing the reverential capitalization of both. He describes it as opposed to “the self-sacrifice embodied by the crucifixion of Jesus” and instead orients itself towards the self-sacrifice of Odin in Norse myth and the fall of “Satan” in Christian mythology. Most interestingly, he reproduces the Christian logos as a timeless, ahistorical Geist: it is “prefigured before its time, and later emulated outside its time.” Even his affirmation of the “later development” of monotheism is appropriated from Christocentric anthropological theories which posited Christianity as the end of religious history, the result of progressive historical narrative in which animism leads to structured polytheism leads to monotheism. His reading of theurgy is Crowleyan, itself derived ultimately from the Christian esoteric tradition, in which “enact[ing] the will” is obtained through “identifi[cation] with a specific deity” (reflecting an anachronistic Crowleyan understanding of magic as actions which correspond with Will.) In his attempt to identify my Christian underpinnings, Aleph gives a very plain reading of Acts — in particular, the Pauline “no longer I” statement — with a sort of “born-again” theology common of evangelical Protestants. Aleph’s denial of pagan monotheism fits an approach which “which ultimately derives from the Christian Apologists of late antiquity”, emphasizing “the differences between Christianity and paganism in a stark and simplistic way which makes one overlook the very substantial similarities between the two”. (Athanasiadē and Frede)

In a short diatribe he elliptically forwards the hypothesis that the “conflation” of the One with the Christian God is rooted in “the perennialist project [of] the Christian humanists.” Philosophical problems presented by perennialism aside, the notion of philosophia perennis et universalis was lifted directly from ancient, pre-Christian pagan writers who did posit an ancient revelation of original truth in the distant past. Rather than being a “project [c]oncocted during the Renaissance,” perennialism represents a pagan atavism: evidence of the germ of Hellenism preserved in Christianity. Ficino and della Mirandola were some of the first translators of pagan texts in the West, and Ficino himself was an heir to none other than the first man to ever attempt a revival of classical paganism: Gemistos Plethon. Thus in his drive for repression he renders himself unable to recognize it when it miraculously re-appears.

Coda
My close friends know I have largely (thought not entirely) retreated from the Western esoteric tradition, finding it largely spiritually, philosophically, and ethically bankrupt. I have instead silently returned to the Buddhism of my youth, quietly studying my lineage and practicing at my temple. Instead I chant esoteric sutras, light ritual fires, and offer tea to the emptiness at the root of all things. However, affinities deepen with time — grooves made by habit are not easily filled. Indeed I still return to Hellenic philosophy and the work of the mendicant mystics. In short, I still believe that the Western esotericism has something to offer anarchism, but not the sort of inverted orthodoxy that Aleph proposes.

Gregory Shopen, in his analysis of the archaeology of Indian Buddhism, critiques the legacy of Protestantism, thoroughly absorbed into the Western intellectural tradition, in the study of world religions. Protestant presuppositions, as he calls them, are uncritically accepted in determining the location of “true religion.” Chief among his examples is an over-reliance on textual sources and the neglect of actual lived practices:

The methodological position frequently taken by modern Buddhist scholars, archaeologists, and historians of religion looks, in fact, uncannily like the position taken by a variety of early Protestant “reformers” who were attempting to define and establish the locus of “true religion” […] This suggests at least the distinct possibility that historical and archaeological method — if not the history of religions as a whole — represents the direct historical continuation of Reformation theological values… (Schopen pp. 1-22)

Gananath Obeyesekere took this critique a step further in coining the term “Protestant Buddhism” to describe the Buddhist reform movements in South Asia, which internalized the Protestantism of colonial authorities. Olcott, a theosophist who was deeply interested in the spiritual traditions of Asia, was an “antimissionary missionary” who helped to organize Sri Lankan Buddhists against the encroachment of Protestant missionaries. But in doing so, he Christianized many elements of Buddhist practice, writing a Buddhist catechism, encouraging caroling on the birthday of Sakyamuni Buddha, and founding Buddhist schools patterned after those ran by Christian missionaries. (Gombrich and Obeyesekere)

It can be surmised that religious and antireligious anarchism alike suffer from this supposition, an uncritical acceptance of the field of discourse received from centuries of doctrinal development and textual criticism by Western European theologians. More caustic than inversion is ambiguation: to problematize the idea of monolithic, coherent systems of belief, showing that even the most unified traditions are internally diverse and incommensurable. One must interrogate the borders between orthodoxy and heresy and render them unserviceable — not just in Christianity or Paganism, but anarchism, too. Instead of taking for granted the ideological boundaries constructed by Christian theologians — boundaries between science and religion, between medicine and magic, between true and false doctrines, between the secular and the sacred — one can investigate the ways in which these categories exceed and juxtapose upon each other. This is the radical potential of the esoteric corpus: to identify the Serpent with none other than Jesus Christ, to affirm there to be no evil but only ignorance, to disallow all within the temple except those who have learned geometry, to place a dissident Jewish preacher among Bast and Amun. In what way is anarchism already religious? In what way is anarchism already a mystical tradition unto itself?

To close, I will illustrate a pertinent example: the Chanson de Roland, an epic poem written in medieval France. The narrative concerns a conflict between Christian Franks and Muslim Moors, culminating in a battle at Roncevaux Pass where the titular Roland is tragically killed. The Muslims, however, are portrayed quite strangely. They worship an “unholy trinity,” a union of Mahound (Muhammad), Appolin (Apollyon), and a mysterious feminine deity Termagant. This portrayal is related to the character of Baphomet, also derived from a Medieval Christian reading of Muhammad (as Mahomet). Rather than engage with the messy truths — that Muslims deeply revere Jesus and consider him the Messiah, that medieval Muslims were rather tolerant of Christians and Jews in Europe, that Muslims accept the validity of the gospels, that Muslims are fervent monotheists for whom the absolute unity of God is paramount — it was much more useful to depict Islam as a reflection of Christianity, even preserving the Trinitarian logic which Muslim apologists are quick to identify as one of the great faults of Christendom. Is there any use in affirming this reflection, especially as an antidote to Christianity? In short, I think not.

Works Cited
1. Athanasiadē, Polymnia Nik, and Michael Frede, editors. Pagan Monotheism in Late Antiquity. Repr, Clarendon Pr, 2008.
2. “Protestant Buddhism.” Buddhism Transformed, by Richard Gombrich and Gananath Obeyesekere, Princeton University Press, 1989, pp. 201–40.
3. Franke, William, editor. On What Cannot Be Said: Apophatic Discourses in Philosophy, Religion, Literature, and the Arts. University of Notre Dame, 2007.
4. “Archaeology and Protestant Presuppositions in the Study of Indian Buddhism.” Bones, Stones, and Buddhist Monks, by Gregory Schopen, University of Hawaii Press, 1997, pp. 1–22.
5. Sells, Michael A. Mystical Languages of Unsaying. University of Chicago Press, 1994.
6. Van Der Horst, Pieter W. Studies in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity. Brill, 2014.

Sunday, August 18, 2024

SEA SERPENT

A rarely seen deep sea fish is found in California, and scientists want to know why

  Aug 17, 2024

A rarely seen deep sea fish resembling a serpent was found floating dead on the ocean surface off the San Diego coast and was brought ashore for study, marine experts said.

The silvery, 12-foot-long (3.6-meter) oarfish was found last weekend by a group of snorkelers and kayakers in La Jolla Cove, north of downtown San Diego, the Scripps Institution of Oceanography said in a statement.

It's only the 20th time an oarfish is known to have washed up in California since 1901, according to institution fish expert Ben Frable.

Scripps noted that oarfish have a mythical reputation as predictors of natural disasters or earthquakes, although no correlation has been proven.

Oarfish can grow longer than 20 feet (6 meters) and normally live in a deep part of the ocean called the mesopelagic zone, where light cannot reach, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.

Swimmers brought the La Jolla Cove oarfish to shore atop a paddleboard. It was then transferred to the bed of a pickup truck.

Scientists from NOAA Southwest Fisheries Science Center and Scripps planned a necropsy on Friday to try to determine the cause of death.

Sunday, July 14, 2024

 The Theme of the Quest: Gilgamesh and Enkidu as Prototypes for Hemingway’s Robert Jordan, Frederic Henry, and Santiago

 

 JULY 12, 2024


LONG READ
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On a Fall, 1964 windy day, and while my family was living in a second-story  Beirut, Lebanon, seaside apartment, I watched and was mesmerized by Spencer Tracy’s performance in Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea. By the time Santiago, the old fisherman, began his struggle with the Marlin and the ensuing Hollywood-made nautical storm and unbeknownst to us, the back balcony door overlooking the Mediterranean Sea blew wide open.  Spellbound and distracted by the movie’s storm and Santiago’s struggle, we were unaware that the wide-open door ushered in an actual Mediterranean wind storm and blended it with its Hollywood counterpart.

Talk about adding tantalizing sensory responses of the visual and auditory types;  that experience left an indelible impact on me.

Within a day I heid me to the United States News Agency quarters to check out and read The Old Man and the Sea. Ironically, some 25 years later the same agency would commission me to write four articles on Dr. Michael Shadid, the father of Cooperative medicine in America.

I would revisit Hemingway in Graduate school and noted a thematic progression in his works. In the 1980s Joseph Campbell graced us  with his presence and brilliant mind in Terrel More, the old English Department’s  hunting grounds which is now a parking lot.  Campbell and Carl Jung would set me on the road to delving into mythology and archetypal patterns, and served as a roadmap for a more serious study of the theme of the Quest, a theme I encountered while teaching the Illiad, Odessey and the Epic of Gilgamesh, to name but a few literary works.

In 2001 I was invited to present a lecture to a packed auditorium at Boading University, an engineering university in the  People’s Republic of China. After the lecture and a relentless  Q & A session, some 70 students begged for more. Seated on the floor in front of the riser, the first question went like this: “Professo Alaby [sic.], in Enest [sic.] Hemingway novel The Old Man and the Sea, what did Santiago accomplish?”  Astounded at this future engineer’s question, I would articulate, albeit in abbreviated form, the theme of the quest in Hemmingway’s novels.

Bingo! I had to get over my procrastination about visiting, researching, and writing about the archetypal theme which is the subject of this essay.

It was not until the late hours of  December 5, 2013 that my procrastination ended. On December 6, 2013, I was scheduled for a 6 am bypass surgery. Always the optimist, at 10 pm the night before, December 5, 2013, I sent an abstract and a narrative  to the program chair of  the 16th Biennial Hemingway conference to be held in June  2014, in Venice, Italy, a city whose charm captivated authors, artists, musicians and one of Ernest Hemingway’s favorite cities, and a city about which I’d previously written and photographed. I proposed to present a a paper on the theme of the Quest in Gilgamesh and Heminway’s works.

10 days later the invitation showed up on my computer screen.

I was back in the classroom for the 2014 Spring semester, and in early February 2014 I was instructed to pack 41 years of research, proposal and other writings and publications, photography, 10 years of AEGIS documentation, consulting, correspondence, sculpture and carving tools, including over 3,500 books, and move out of my office. Moses Provine was to be renovated and no alternative office space was provided.  Two VPs did not respond to my plea to find me suitable quarters, and a dean with three vacant offices in his building informed me “I am not sure my faculty will welcome you.” Thrown under the bus by the powers that be, I presented my case to President Horne. His response was: “Let’s pray about it.” His prayer went nowhere. That is typical Baptist response to solving problems. And on the first day of Spring vacation 2014, 3,000 books were evicted to the OBU library and the other 500 to the Arkadelphia High School. All the rest of my professional life, 41 years of it, were evicted and hauled off to a garage, a  basement, and other storage space. No construction began on Moses Provive until the Middle of May 15.

Having been forced to leave my native Palestine, and having been a persona non grata for the first 31 years of my life, this egregiously shabby, and callous disregard for a man recovering from a quintuple bypass surgery was my lowest point at an institution I hold dear to my heart. That was, in the metaphorical sense, my “belly of the whale experience.”

And I resolved not to be either defined by it or to deter me from my quest, namely, to pour all my intellectual, physical,  and emotional faculties into producing a decent paper.

And in May 2014 the indifatigable Johnny wink volunteered to be an audience of one to listen and critique my paper.

Thus it was that, accompanied with my bride of 44 years, along with over 400 participants from 28 countries, we attended receptions, lectures and forums on myriad Hemingway topics, including site trips to Folsata di Piave, where, at age 18, ambulance driver Hemingway was injured, a visit to the Ivanich hunting lodge where Hemingway went duck hunting as well as the Ivanich estate whose main structure was bombed by the allies during WW II. An entire day was spent on the Island of Torcello, a Hemingray favorite haunt, where poetry, readings, and a semi formal event was held. La Belle Femme and I and I managed to attend a Vivaldi concert in Venice’s 16th century concert hall.

 **************************

In Gilgamesh, the ancient Mesopotamian epic poem, the protagonist, Gilgamesh, and his alter ego, Enkidu, undertake a lengthy journey, encounter numerous  challenges, and experience heroic adventures. After Enkidu’s death, Gilgamesh continues the quest in search of immortality. As an archetypal  motif, the quest, as portrayed through the harrowing experiences of the God-king and his unsullied travelling companion, ends in Gilgamesh’s realization that he could not achieve immortality. Enkidu’s death propels Gilgamesh to continue his journey and to be tested repeatedly. At end of the journey, the hero discovers his mortality, gains wisdom, and becomes the better for it. Taken collectively, Ernest Hemingway’s protagonists Robert Jordan, Frederic Henry, and Santiago, in For Whom the Bell Tolls,    A Farewell to Arms, and the Old Man and the Sea, respectively, embark on similar self-discovery quests. While Jordan and Henry’s quests Parallel Gilgamesh’s journey up till Enkidu’s premature death, Santiago’s ordeal and triumph parallel Gilgamesh’s solo journey in the second half of the epic and the supreme challenges these heroes confronted on their final quests. The purpose of this paper is to compare the theme of the quest in the aforementioned works and to attempt to draw parallels in the archetypal patterns as they unfold in each composition.

Unfortunately time does not allow me to present the detailed analysis I would like to have presented and, as a result, I will highlight the salient points.

I would also like to state the following: I am not suggesting that Ernest Hemingway was either familiar with or influenced by this ancient Mesopotamian myth, a myth that preceded Homer’s Iliad, the cornerstone of Western literature, by at least 1500 years. And, while Gilgamesh’s plot-line follows a perfectly developed linear archetypal pattern employing the theme of the Quest as an essential idea  to its plot, theme,  and characterization, in their entirety, Hemingway’s three works are a perfectly executed literary triptych in which this archetypal theme is progressively and prominently drawn out.

In his monumental work on mythology, Joseph Campbell highlighted the following: No matter the culture or time frame in which a myth exists, there is a set pattern, a mold, if you wish, of events/experiences/phases/junctures undertaken by the hero. Campbell refers to these interlocked junctures as the “Structure of the Mono-Myth” in which the sequential events are methodically conjoined in a linear structure. Each event serves as a thematic and transitional building block that is intertwined with its subsequent plot line, hence setting the stage for the succeeding set of events in a thematically interlacing fashion. These junctures are as follows:

First: The hero exists in an ordinary world.

Second: The hero is called to undertake a journey – at first with some reluctance.

Third:  The journey takes the hero to a different world.

Fourth: At first the hero refuses, but the refusal may spell trouble.

Fifth: The acceptance of a Call.

Sixth:  The journey challenges and tests the endurance and strength of the hero, both mental and physical.

Seventh: Supernatural forces appear.

Eighth: The hero needs a helper to fulfill the quest.

Ninth: Each hero is tested in the form of trials and ordeals. Sometimes this is referred to as the Belly of the Whale experience that induces a final separation from a previous personality trait.

Tenth:  There is a reward after the testing and the overcoming of the ordeal, and the hero exhibits a willingness to undergo change.

Eleventh: The hero grows as a result of the challenges. At the end there is an atonement, a lesson to be learned, a sort of apotheosis as a result of an arduous journey that tempers the hero.

Yet other ingredients are the following: Villains exist. Mentors/guides exist to provide guiding principles. A herald brings the call to adventure. The hero encounters guardians, or gatekeepers, who direct him, as well as tricksters who cause mischief, and possibly a woman as temptress, a kind of femme fatale.

By drawing on Jung’s analysis of the mono-myth archetypes, the Quest can be summarized thusly:  “A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of super-natural wonder: fabulous forces are then encountered and a decisive history is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with power to bestow boons on his fellow man.”

To reiterate, in their structure, The Epic of Gilgamesh, For Whom The Bell Tolls, A Farewell to Arms, and The Old Man and the Sea adhere to the construct of the mono-myth.

An ancient Mesopotamian epic poem, The Epic of Gilgamesh is amongst the earliest known works of literary fiction and is believed to have originated in a series of Sumerian legends about a mythological hero-king named Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh might have been a real 27th century BC ruler of the Early Dynastic II Period.  Scholars believe that early versions of the poem appeared in an oral tradition sometime during the second millennium BC during the period of the Third Dynasty of UR.  With the invention of cuneiform by the Sumerians, the poem was committed to clay tablets and was composed in a series of somewhat loosely connected narratives, more like independently arranged dramatic acts. Sometime in the second millennium BC the Akkadians collated the tablets in a more complete structure under the title He Who Saw the Deep /// Sha Naqba imuru  (Unknown Mysteries) or Surpassing All other Kings ///  Shutur eli Sharri. Most scholars agree that the text, in its current form, was edited sometime between 1300 and 1000 BC. Discovered in 1849 in the library of Ashurbanipal, the  12 existing clay tablets, written in Babylonian, a dialect of the Akkadian language,  are today accepted as the most complete and definitive text.

The Mesopotamian gods create Gilgamesh to rule over the city of Uruk. This god-king is endowed with physical beauty and brute prowess, two qualities that became the root of  his vanity. He engages in numerous unwarranted wars that kill the young men, he despoils the maidens, and takes women from their husbands and lovers. Hearing the citizens’ complaints, the gods create Enkidu as a counterbalance. Because Enkidu  is endowed with human form yet by nature he was half human and half animal, he lived in perfect harmony amongst the animals, hunting with them and eating uncooked food. He is, in effect, the king-protector of wild game, ruling above them as Gilgamesh ruled over men. Realizing that Enkidu has the necessary qualities to neutralize Gilgamesh, a hunter arranges for a prostitute to spend seven days with Enkindu; she seduces him and schools him in all the arts of sumptuous sensuous pleasures. This indulgence transforms him into a civilized, urban citizen.

When Gilgamesh and Enkidu first meet they lock themselves in a robust adversarial fight, a contest barely won by Gilgamesh. This encounter ends in an amicable embrace and seems to highlight the conflict between the civilized and wild worlds, a recurring theme in both Mesopotamian civilization and in numerous Hemingway works. In his quest for immortality, Gilgamesh and his new-found companion slay Humbaba in the hopes of gaining immortality. Their victory is short-lived, for prior to his death Humbaba invokes curses and pleads with Enlil, the god of wind and storm, who, by denying the duo Humbaba’s seven splendors, renders this a hollow victory.

Because Gilgamesh rejects Ishtar’s sexual advances, she sends the Bull of Heaven to exact revenge on the people of Uruk. The protagonists  are therefore forced to destroy this beast, an act for which Ishtar exacts a heavy price. The Goddess of War, Love, Fertility and Sex,  Ishtar would settle for nothing less than Enkidu’s death, an event whose tectonic tremors awaken Gilgamesh and force him to confront his own mortality for the first time. This turning into self induces a call for the final and most challenging quest Gilgamesh has to assume.

Gilgamesh sets out on a perilous journey in search of  Utnapishtim and his wife, the only humans, who, having survived the Great Flood, were the sole living beings to be granted immortality. After overcoming a series of challenging Herculean-style obstacles, Gilgamesh embarks on a perilous voyage to Utnapishtim’s island and is about to undertake the most challenging quest. Namely, he had to persist in remaining awake for six days and seven nights, and he had to seek and hold onto an aquatic plant. He fails both tests — first by his inability to stay awake,  and second, by losing the plant to a serpent. Having been tested in numerous ways and having undertaken arduous journeys,  Gilgamesh’s final Belly of the Whale experiences render him into a wise hero-king fully attuned to his mortality and fully fit and committed to ruling Uruk.

Published in 1940, the title for For Whom the Bell Tolls is appropriated from John Donne’s Meditation XVII and is set in the late 1930’s during the Spanish civil war. Hemingway drew on his experiences as a reporter for the North American Newspaper Alliance.  Robert Jordan, the novel’s protagonist, pursues his quest by answering the call to travel to Spain to fight alongside the Republicans. He is affiliated with the International Brigade that is opposed to Francisco Franco’s Fascist regime.

Taking leave from his college position (as a Spanish Professor) and because of his expertise in dynamite and demolition, Jordan is tasked with the demolition of a bridge that is believed to be of strategic significance. Because of his linguistic fluency and his cultural sensitivity to the mores of the mountain people, he is able to gain the trust of a band of gypsies. Looming in his subconscious mind is his father’s suicide, a tragic event that rocked his world and left an indelible mark on him.  In a series of flashbacks Jordan relives this tragedy and, by utilizing the 3rd person omniscient narrative technique, Hemingway’s plot, set in the Guadarrama Mountain range not far from Segovia, morphs into reflective reminiscences and   fast-paced unraveling events. The actions are compressed and funneled  into a last  week of May , 1939,  time- frame, and are  condensed into four days and five nights.  The plot unravels itself in interlacing thought sequences where past experiences serve as transitional devices in an interconnected sequence of evolving events.

Pilar, the old Gypsy woman, is Jordan’s main helper, and it is her very committed, tough and steadfast character and ruggedness that serve as the glue that holds the rag-tag band of Republicans together. Like Jordan, she possesses an enduring mental and physical strength that is the catalyst that keeps her husband at bay and the force upon which Maria and the rest of the characters draw. As Jordan goes through upheavals, especially after Pablo absconds with the dynamite, it is Pilar who remains steadfast. She supervises most of the activities, including the acquisition of food stuffs and the preparation of meals, coordinating the daily chores, and serving as a cheerleader when things appear bleak.

Because she was relegated to performing the menial tasks of cooking and cleaning, Jordan’s initial impression of Maria is lukewarm. However, as he begins to engage with her in a series of dialogues and after he learns that her parents were brutally butchered in a barbaric ritual and her subsequently being subjected to a heinous and humiliating violation of her body and soul, Jordan is drawn to her emotionally and physically.

Like Enkidu, Jordan’s  sexual encounters and the deep feelings he developed for Maria are life-changing experiences. He finds a new lust for life and does his best to protect Maria. And even though the destruction of the bridge did not have the expected military outcome in the final scene, Jordan, now maimed by a tank explosion and trapped under his horse,  felt that by saving Maria he performed his duty.

In 1918 Hemingway joined the Italian Red Cross as an ambulance driver. On July 8, 1918, he was struck by mortar, and subsequently  shipped to a Milan hospital for recovery. There he met nurse Agnes Von Kurowsky, and fell in love with her. Drawing on his personal experience, Hemingway’s  A Farewell to Arms was published in 1929. The primary theme is war and its enervating impact on human beings.  Tenente, or Mr. Henry (as he is initially introduced), the novel’s protagonist, narrates the events in the form of reminiscent personal episodes. Frederic Henry’s initial quest was to lend support to the allied forces in the role of an ambulance driver for the Red Cross, the events for which were based on WWI battles occurring sometime between1916-1918.  Henry is initially detached from the unfolding events on the battlefields and performs his duties perfunctorily and in a conscious aloofness that disengages him from the chaos and brutality. The consumption of alcohol in great quantities and card games with the garrulous Rinaldi, the  Italian surgeon/roommate and others help dull,  ameliorate, and divert attention from the permeating carnage. These discussions serve as a means of glossing over the pervasive carnage.  After he is wounded and while convalescing from a battle wound in a Milan hospital, Henry meets English nurse Catherine Barkley, a Voluntary Aid Detachment British Red Cross nurse, and immediately falls in love with her.

While Henry’s passionate love for Catherine dulls his idealism and commitment to his duties and initiates a distancing from the humdrum of military campaigns, Catherine’s initial flirtations with him are merely a coping mechanism to help her overcome the death of her fiancé. However, what initially start out as flirtatious overtures and a distraction for Catherine soon turn into a deep attachment.  The couple soon finds solace in each other’s company and become physically and emotionally devoted to each other: she as a refuge from grief, and he to distance himself from the terrible slaughter. The prevailing ambivalence about the war begins to set in when Henry was forced to return to the front after his three-month period of convalescence. And he begins to seriously question the big lie about Le Gloire de Guerre.

 And just as Gilgamesh is forced to bid farewell to Enkidu and Jordan is forced to bid farewell to Maria, Henry, after a brief period of physical, mental, and emotional healing in Switzerland,   is forced to bid farewell to Catherine soon after she delivers their stillborn baby and hemorrhages to death.

And just like the Gilgamesh narrative,  death is a major theme in these works.  The theme of death, the fear of wars and butchery, and the loss of innocence are common themes threaded more overtly in   For Whom the Bell Tolls, and most tellingly in A Farewell to Arms.

In the latter, as the title suggests, all romantic conceptions of war are destroyed, and Hemingway sensitizes us to how modern arms, designed especially for mass murder, dispel any notion that wars are noble. Jordan and Henry lose their idealism about the respective causes for which they ideally signed up, and become cynical and suspicious of the call to arms. In For Whom, the account of an orgy of savagery and brutality in Pablo’s town explicitly  exposes the futility of war – people lose their humanity and their innocence.  And in  A Farewell, Henry opines the following in a series of interspersed  statements:  “Still nobody was whipping any one on the Western front. Perhaps wars weren’t won any more. Maybe they went forever. Maybe it was another Hundred Year’s War …. I don’t believe in victory anymore… abstract words such as glory, honor, courage, or hallow were obscene beside the concrete names of villages, the number of roads, the names of rivers, the numbers of regiments and the dates … But it was not my show.”  On the other hand and because of his resignation to his quest of destroying the bridge, Jordan and his comrades were ready to do “as all good men should.” That is, die and sacrifice. And as Jordan lay in wait for the final coup de grace, he choose not to commit suicide like his father: “You have to be awfully occupied with yourself to do a thing like that,”  he observes. Jordan’s refusal to commit suicide elevates and gives nobility to his life; by accepting his fate, he becomes a true tragic hero.

Like Gilgamesh and (to a lessor extent)  Jordan,  Frederic Henry acts impulsively. He becomes so detached from reality and kills, execution style, an Italian engineer, for refusing to help free the vehicle from the mire. To free himself from the burden of this moral transgression and to run away from a devolving spiral of violence, Henry’s quest turns into a flight for survival,  a deep yearning for Catherine, and the deep aspiration that he would soon find her.  Thus, what started out as merely a quest “to do good” as an ambulance driver, became a quest and a hijra for survival, and Catherine was the traveling companion and the magnetic north needle that drew him, both literally and figuratively, to a safe haven in Switzerland. While Catherine’s coquetry turned into real love, Henry’s  loyalty to a human cause turns into loyalty for Catherine. Much like the expressionistic Edward Munch and Ernst Kirchner canvases, the relationships between Gilgamesh and Enkidu, Jordan and Maria, Henry and Catherine blend the real and the illusionary worlds. Love and war, love and passion, love and hate, resignation and acceptance, forbearance  and impatience, sickness and health, denial and acquiescence, fear and flight, mind and heart, impulse vs. composure,  wounding and healing, life and death, trepidation and hope, yearning and finding love and losing it in the blink of an eye,  physical, emotional and mental anguish and the analgesic and corrective  antidotes  are all cast in settings of ominous brutality in which the main characters attempt to distance themselves from seemingly legitimized  senseless behavior .  Some examples of the Belly of the Whale experience are Enkidu’s regret at having participated in the senseless killing of the Beast, Humbaba.  Enkidu and Gilgamesh are deaf to reality and mortality and do not listen to advice or morality.  So too,  early in the novel Jordan is told by Pilar, “Pablo’s woman,”  “thou art a miracle of deafness – it is not that thou art stupid. Thou art simply deaf. One who is deaf cannot hear music. Neither can he hear the radio. So he might say, never having heard them, that such things do not exist.” And just as Gilgamesh has to finally accept his mortality, in the final scene, Jordan, realizing that he will ultimately lose his life, accepts his mortality and opts out of suicide.

When the novel opens, Jordan’s accomplishments are not heroic. Yet as he lay immobilized and in wait of the inevitable, call it the belly of the whale moment,  Jordan’s  pensees reflechissantes finale  afford him the opportunity to take stock of his vitae brevis and he realizes that his life, his quest if you wish, could be summed up thusly: He has finally developed an absolute brotherhood with people, especially Maria, and not the cause. Hemingway likens this “absolute brotherhood,”   to an “integration into the world.”  In this triumphant moment Jordan is metaphorically drafting his final curriculum vitae, his final will and testament, if you wish. His thoughts reflect an awareness that he’s accounting for posterity. As he crosses the t’s and dots the i’s he attains his moment of apotheosis with stoic fortitude .  He notes “that the gypsies see something, feel something.”  Finally assured that “Pilar will take care of [Maria],”  he tells himself to “Stay with what you believe now. Don’t get cynical. The time is too short and you have just sent her away. Each does what he can. You can do nothing for yourself but perhaps you can do something for another. Well, we had all our luck in four days. Not four days. It was afternoon when I first got there and it will not be noon today. That makes not quite three days and three nights. Keep it accurate, he said, quite accurate. I think you better get down now, he thought. You better get fixed around some way where you will be useful instead of leaning against this tree like a tramp. You have had much luck. There are many worse things than this. Everyone has to do this, one day or another. You are not afraid of it once you know you have to do it, are you? No, he said truly.”

In 1936 Hemingway wrote a piece for Esquire in which he described the arduous attempt of a Cuban fisherman, tugged into the sweeping deep sea waters, to haul in a giant marlin he had snagged. After great effort, delirious, and  disoriented, the fisherman sails into the harbor with the gigantic skeletal, wasted-away, shark-scarfed-down marlin. Based on this narrative, Hemingway published his opus The Old Man and the Sea in 1952 for which he won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, a bittersweet award that was followed by the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1954.

Hemingway introduces us to Santiago, the novella’s protagonist thusly:  “He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff. … The old man was thin and gaunt with deep wrinkles in the back of his neck. The brown blotches of the benevolent skin cancer the sun brings from it reflection on the tropic sea were on his cheeks. The blotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep-creased scars from handling heavy fish on the cords. But none of the scars were fresh. They were as old as erosions in a fishless desert.”

Santiago, a seasoned and aged Cuban fisherman, has had a streak of bad luck; self-doubt sets in, and he begins to feel that he is losing his touch.  For 84 consecutive days Santiago has returned from his fishing trips empty handed. The serious misgivings that set in shook his world. “Age is my alarm clock, … why do old men wake so early? Is it to have one longer day?” he reflects to himself. Yet Hemingway tells us that “Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and cheerful and undefeated.”  Santiago’s final triumph, his crowning heroic quest, begins on day 85 when he ventures into the deep waters and pushes the nautical limits of his tiny skiff. He soon encounters an assortment of aquatic life and diverse birds with which he develops affinities. Santiago tells us: “My choice [is] to go there to find him beyond all people. Beyond all people of the world.”  Soon an inordinately powerful  tug on his line awakens him from his reflective reveries and he realizes that this was no ordinary tautness. So strong was the pulsating reverberation transmitted through the fishing line that Santiago realizes that this was no commonplace rush. Rather, this was an “aortic spasm of epic proportions, a heartbeat like none he had experienced before.” Santiago reflects the following: “Now we are joined together and have been since noon. And no one to help either one of us.”  Realizing that this was no run-of-the-mill  skirmish, Santiago musters all of his mental and physical faculties and begins to draw on a reservoir of a life-time of experiences. In an uncompromising, methodical, and stoic manner tempered by years of struggles and experiences, the protracted duel becomes a struggle in which Santiago, and, by extension, the heroic quest, transmute into a danse macabre.  “Fish,” Santiago tells the invisible larger than life supernatural force, “Fish, you are going to have to die anyway. Do you have to kill me too?” Several pages later, Hemingway states the following: “Besides, he thought, everything kills everything else in some way. Fishing kills me exactly as it keeps me alive. The boy keeps me alive, he thought, I must not deceive myself too much.” And later, much like Gilgamesh, Jordan, and Henry’s self-introspection,  Santiago poses the following question: “You violated your luck when you went too far.”  To cross the finish line on this solo quest the hero is pitted against the marlin and the scavenging sharks, against nature (the sea, the waves, the rain, the sun, the wind), against exposure and death, and, by extension, against the doubters, and it tests the limits of his emotional, physical, and mental endurance.

Much like Enkidu’s regret at having killed the beast, Santiago, as previously cited, begins to wish he had not snagged the marlin. And, like Enkidu, Santiago was close to the natural world. “He was very fond of flying fish as they were his principal friends on the ocean. He was sorry for the birds, especially the small delicate dark terns that were always flying … Why did they make birds so delicate and fine as those sea swallows … She [the ocean] is kind and very beautiful … when shark livers had brought money .. they spoke of el mar [as] masculine. … But the old man always thought of her as feminine. .. The moon affects her [the ocean] as it does a woman, he thought.”

In each of these works the bell rings for the protagonists. The heroes venture out into their respective worlds and are called to push the limits of human endurance by  searching for meaning and affirmation.  While life can be destroyed, the human spirit and soul cannot be defeated. The belly of the whale experience for each of the protagonists is a transformative experience.  Gilgamesh is the better and wiser for his tribulations and travails. Jordan accepts the fact that he must die so that others may live. While Henry’s farewell to arms in the military sense allows him to reflect on the futility of war by escaping into a lover’s arms, we are left with the pangs of a surrealist solitude, that numbing pathos that portends a bleak future.  And even though Santiago had, by hauling in a mere skeletal carcass, lost the battle, it is because of his indefatigable and tireless efforts against herculean odds that he won the war. His unwavering and resolute steadfastness and his heroic perserverence leave an enduring legacy, an apotheosis,  that will live through the fidelity and idealism of Monolin, his young apprentice.

My experience writing this paper was a metaphorical Belly of the Whale experience, and it was just what Dr. James Holloway, my cardiologist, ordered.

Raouf J. Halaby is a Professor Emeritus of English and Art. He is a writer, photographer, sculptor, an avid gardener, and a peace activist. halabys7181@outlook.com