Percy-L: Literary, Religious, Scientific, and Philosophical Discussion of Walker Percy

[Thomas Gollier <tgollier AT gmail.com>]

Mike,

I hope I'm not annoying you, or others, by pushing this discussion further, but I haven't had an

exchange online like this since the good old days of the Peirce list, and I'm getting to the point

where I'm thinking it would be worth the time it would take to scan in 'Lancelot' and go through

it paragraph by paragraph as if it were a philosophical treatise on the nature of confessions in

general.

With that said, then, I was floating comfortably along in your message until I hit the sentence:

    So when we admit a hierarchy of subjectivity, we admit as well the existence of an objective

    truth, else the hierarchy of subjectivity has no basis against which to be measured.

How does the notion of a "hierarchy of subjectivity" come from the possibility of infinite subjective

interpretations and the fact some of those interpretations are better than others?  It's more like the

"better" comes from a sense of the center of those possibilities.  I realize, for instance, that I have

to grade my students' interpretations of an argument on a hierarchical scale, but I never grade them

on whether I think their interpretations themselves are better or worse.  I grade them on whether

their interpretations are consistent and complete.  These are what I would consider "objective

realities" suitable to a hierarchical measurement.  And, I propose to my students that the reason for

objectively seeking out different interpretations is not to pick the right one.  It is to get a non-objective

sense of the center and most comprehensive comprehension of all those various interpretations.

So when we shift to the question of a "moral code" — I'd prefer to call it "moral bond" — with my

neighbor, I see that morality as a non-objective matter of trust.  I trust my neighbor not to burn my

house down (1) because I will not burn his house down, and (2) because he has shown no inclination

to burn mine down.  It's an act of faith, so long we don't look at "faith" as believing in miracles, precisely

because there is no "objectivity" to it.  If he does burn my house down, the reality of it — and I do think

there is a reality to it, the medieval reality of universals — disappears in the smoke as if it was never

there in the first place.  And what's more important, and what Percy brings out so forcefully with Lancelot

and his wife, is not only that I can no longer trust him or her — that's obvious — it's that I can no longer

trust myself as a judge of trustworthy persons and the possibility of such relationships.  I probably wouldn't

go to a priest or a psychiatrist myself, but I would certainly need some kind of confessional confrontation

with myself.

Anyway, thanks again for pursuing these things with me,
Tom

On Thu, Jul 23, 2020 at 9:17 AM Michael Larson <larsonovic AT gmail.com> wrote:

Tom,

Thanks for your comments.

Yes, if we are talking about Percy's vision in Lancelot, then we cannot ignore his Catholicism as a framework for the "reality" the novel exposes. If, on the other hand, we are talking about readers making their own meaning, then his Catholicism and even its implications for the characters may be safely ignored. But this brings us back to that same issue of objectivity. Readers are free, of course, to make whatever subjective meaning they want to make of any piece of literature. But as soon as we admit this freedom, there arises, once we begin to see the interpretations rolling in, a kind of hierarchy of subjectivity. That is to say, some readers come nearer to understanding the heart of the story than others. This is inevitable, and even people who do not admit much in the way of objective reality seem to know intuitively that one interpretation of a story is better, nearer to the truth, than another. But what do we mean by "the heart of the story"? What do we mean by "the truth" of it? Why do we know that one critique comes nearer to it than some other and not as near as another? We know it because there is indeed an objective meaning that hangs around a story, and we can tell when somebody's notion gets nearer or farther from that meaning, maybe even to the point where the notion is simply a private flight of fancy, having nothing at all to do with the story in question. So when we admit a hierarchy of subjectivity, we admit as well the existence of an objective truth, else the hierarchy of subjectivity has no basis against which to be measured.

The same is true for morality. Subjective moral orders do exist, of course. But their existence in no way precludes the existence of an objective moral order as well. You and I and many others might agree that it is morally wrong to burn down a neighbor's house and especially so when the neighbors are inside. We might find a few people who see no moral problem with burning down buildings so long as they feel sufficiently angry, but most people would agree that arson in general is wrong. That popular agreement, however, is not what makes it objectively true. Popular agreement about a moral issue is merely, as you say, intersubjectivity. But reality is not a democracy. It cares not what the prevailing subjective opinion happens to be at a given moment and in a given place. Either there is something objectively wrong with arson, or there is not. Either there is an objective moral law that precludes malice against one's neighbor, or there is not. Whether or not an individual believes in the existence of such a moral order has no bearing on whether or not it exists.

Lancelot provides a good example of the coexistence of subjective and objective morality. He has designed his own subjective moral code, and he believes it to be "right," which implies that he believes it to coincide with an objective moral order. He even says that he will give Percival's God some time to act in accordance with his perceptions (256). Percival, on the other hand, has adopted (or readopted, perhaps, after listening to Lancelot's chilling tale) the moral order proclaimed by the Catholic church. You could say, of course, that the Church's moral theology is just another subjective moral order, and that would be true in the sense that it is articulated by a particular body. But its subjectivity in no way prohibits it from aligning with the objective moral order as well. The same is true for Lance's morality. The fact that it is subjectively his does not in itself preclude it from aligning with reality as regards the true nature of things in their moral context. Lance's read on God's world is like a reader's interpretation of Percy's Lancelot. It may be close or far or somewhere in between with regard to the reality of the thing being observed.

Though Lancelot and the Church (via Percival) do not agree exactly on what the objective moral law entails, they both believe it exists. The modern world, however, does not. That final conversation on the final page of the book: "But you know this! One of us is wrong. It will be your way or it will be my way." Yes. "All we can agree on is that it will not be their way. Out there." Yes. "There is no other way than yours or mine, true?" Yes.

Lance is asserting, and Percival is agreeing, that there is a "right" way and that the modern world is not on it. The world's new motto is, "IF IT FEELS GOOD DO IT" (255). The whole idea of an objective moral order has been rejected, and the cascading consequences for that are described in great detail in the pages of the novel. Although both men (Lance and Percival) reject the modern mantra, Lance's reaction is characterized by anger and disdain (and eventually coldness), whereas Percival's is characterized by sorrow mixed with the hope of repentance and its flower, redemption.

Best,

Mike Larson