Last week I went to two interesting lectures. The first was at my alma mater, Macquarie University, presented by bioethicist Peter Singer. Basically it was about climate change and the philosophy around how to deal with it fairly so that the people who caused it are responsible for the remedy and making sure the others don't add to the problem without infringing on their rights.
That was tied into poverty and other types of social damage caused by climate change and how each and every one of us could contribute to the solution whether through money, or our actions, or through influencing policy etc. Singer's point was basically the less you spend, the more you can give to charity and the more lives you can save.
I did start to wonder about the implications of this from an arts point of view. I don't buy a lot of clothing and I don't spend my money on things like makeup or jewellery, and I don't waste food. But I do spend a LOT of my money on arts-related things like music and gigs and publications and theatre. Is the concept of art, collectively, worth more than a human life?
I'm going to be controversial and misanthropic and say yes.
Can I really justify my answer? (Do I have to?) While it isn't quite articulated in my brain yet, the best way I can explain it is that art enhances life. To bastardise Nietzsche: "Without art, life would be a mistake."
Just off on a tangent, it's like those stats that talk about life expectancy and using life expectancy as a measurement for how advanced a country is. I can't remember who asked the question, maybe it was a columnist like Adele Horin, but what about the QUALITY of that life? What's the point in living an extra 20 years if those years are riddled with disease and misery? Bright star, would I were as steadfast as thou art, etc (Keats).
Anyway, so art enhances human life. I would go so far as to say that the art we create defines us as humans. So I don't think I will feel guilty about going to a gig instead of putting the money I would have spent on a ticket towards a charity.
My main concern is that the human life that is 'not saved' would probsbly be one that never contributed to the problems from which he or she suffered. It's rarely the Hummer-buyer that suffers when I decide to pay $150 to see Simon & Garfunkel instead of putting that money into Oxfam, it's more likely a fisherman from a low-lying island whose home and livelihood become consumed by rising water caused by climate change.
Sigh. Life ain't fair for some, but it doesn't mean I'll stop listening to music.
The second lecture was Max Barry's essay on Risk at the State Library. It was an intellectual, rather than mathematical, take on how we perceive risk and what taking risks can lead to, including how it builds you as a person.
The Q&A session was chaired by Julian Morrow from The Chaser, no stranger to risk himself. I think the best thing that came out of the event was the concept of learning from risk if it doesn't pay off, and also not risking things that you don't have to risk.
Barry's most telling remark was talking about a fan who had written in and told him he was thinking of killing himself because everything had gone wrong. Barry advised him not to kill himself, not because it was the wrong thing to do, but because the guy would risk killing himself at the worst possible moment, exiting at the lowest point in the 'curve' when things could only get better.
"'The best time to kill yourself,' I told him, 'is when everything is going really well because you know that that's as good as things will get and you only have misery to look forward to'."
Quite wise, really. At least it worked and the guy didn't kill himself.
