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Gratitude and the Retribalization of the World
Roger Kimball writes:
Cardinal Newman may have have been right — let me put my cards on the table and say that I believe that he was right — that about many matters “to think correctly is to think like Aristotle.” But even Aristotle, as Horace says of Homer, nods occasionally. Consider the Stagirite’s famous observation that man is the “rational animal.” Is he? Look around at your fellow creatures. Is the rationality of their behavior the first thing that strikes you about them? Take your time.
For my own part, were I asked to produce a list of leading characteristics of the species homo sapiens sapiens, I would think twice before putting “rationality” at the top of the list. (Incidentally, note how gratifying it is to be in the position of naming one’s own club. Would “sapiens” — twice! — have been the distinguishing modifier had someone else been in charge of handing out rubrics?) Near the top of my list of characteristics of the species would have been ingratitude, not rationality. Whatever else he is, man is certainly the ungrateful animal. Be he ever so larded with blessings, still he is likely not only to be dissatisfied but also ungrateful.
Why is this? There are, I think, several reasons. One reason has to do with another leading characteristic of humanity: its curious condition of being always incomplete, of regarding life as a sort of moral pilgrimage. Your dog has desires — for a bone, say — but those desires, once met, are essentially satisfied till the next desire comes along. For people, satisfaction as often feeds as satisfies desire. The more one gets, the more one wants.
This characteristic of humanity is not all bad. It helps explain, for example, why humans contrive to build palaces, airplanes, and rocket ships, while Fido here is as content to live life just as his great-great-great-great grandfather did. Imagine being transported back a few hundred years and attempting to get on in the world. You might think you would have enjoyed chatting with Jane Austen, say, but what if you suffered a toothache or appendicitis, what if you decided to travel to New York from England, what if you were too hot in the summer, or wanted oranges and strawberries in the winter? It is difficult to imagine how different the physical concomitants of life were even so short a time ago.
On the debit side, however, is that habit of ingratitude I mentioned above. This is a subject well worth plumbing. Perhaps I will return to it another time. For now, on this Thanksgiving week, I wish simply to invite readers to pause for a moment to count their blessings. If you happen to have been born and brought up in the United States, you have already been dealt an amazingly lucky hand in the sweepstakes of life...