LIFE, DEATH, ABORTION, SCARFACE AND HAMLET

AN ESSAY

I grew up in a ferociously pro-choice household. From my earliest memory, my mother told me that abortion was a woman's right. It was her choice to decide what to do with her body. Those ideas filtered into my mind. I never thought much about it. I never thought abortion amounted to murder. In fact, I remember my mother used to say: "It's nothing but a clump of cells. It's not even a person. You're not hurting anyone when you pull it out of there."

I was satisfied with her explanation. It passed my empirical scrutiny. After all, I had no memory about my own life before I was three years old, let alone memory about my time in the womb. I recalled no pain from that time. In that light, I perceived no moral problem in terminating a pregnancy: It just didn't hurt anyone.

I could not identify with a fetus; I may have once been a fetus, but if someone had rooted me out before I was born, I would not have known the better. There seemed to be no suffering in abortion. I had no problem with it.

When I was a little older, my mother told me that she had had an abortion three years after I was born. That made me understand why she so fiercely advocated abortion rights: She had needed an abortion and she got one. She told me she could not have supported another child. I completely agreed with her. I did not want another sibling, either. I liked my mother's undivided attention. So we both had some self-interest in our beliefs about abortion. I never regretted the idea that I "may have lost a brother or sister." I supported my mother's decision. In fact, I fully endorsed her main argument: That no one has a right to tell a woman what she should do with her own body.

I carried these beliefs with me to law school. They informed my understanding about the Constitution. I read Roe v. Wade, 410 U.S. 113 (1973), as if I already knew what it said. In essence, Roe held that a woman has a constitutional right to terminate her pregnancy at any time before "viability." It reaffirmed my own belief that the State has no right to interfere with a woman's reproductive choices because we all have a right to "privacy" in our bodies.

But there were people in my class who strongly disagreed with Roe. They thought that abortion was a crime. They thought that there was such a thing as "potential life," and that the State had a right to protect "lives that did not yet exist." My own values clashed with that argument. I had always believed--thanks to my mother's explanations and my own empirical conclusions--that fetuses were not people. They were just "clumps of cells." I did not consider them "alive." And even if they represented "potential life," that concept was far too nebulous for me to defend.

Still, many people vociferously believe the opposite. In fact, there are probably some people out there who would kill me for my belief that abortion is acceptable in virtually every circumstance.

In recent years, I have been obsessed with death. When my father died suddenly in 2006, it forced me to reevaluate every assumption I had about life. I pondered life's meaning, its "rewards" and its expectations. After all, I saw that life can end without warning. And all the things that we learn to expect from life can evaporate in an instant. We are all just going to die--in fact, we might even die tomorrow--so why stress out about little things, like careers and money? What do they gain us in the end? Why waste time on them? Why waste a single day on something unappetizing? If all we have are our bodies, why torture ourselves doing things we would rather not do?

I developed a contempt for life. I am still quite contemptuous about it. What does life really have to offer, anyway? Food? Sleep? Orgasms? Comforts? Feather beds? Money? Joys? Is this everything? Are we mere slaves to our senses until the day our senses cease functioning? What difference will food and orgasms make once we die? None, none, none. In fact, those are only the good sensory things that can happen to us in life. More often, life inflicts unbelievable sensory suffering on us. We endure physical pain and emotional turmoil. We endure heartache, delay, disappointment, rejection, boredom, stress, betrayal, mockery, abuse and frustration. The bad moments usually far outnumber the good ones. Then we die. Taken as a whole, then, life is a losing proposition.

That's not to say that I do not sometimes like living. It feels good to eat, sleep, have sex, talk with friends, love people, be loved, sit in a comfortable chair, listen to music and read books. I like being alive in those moments. But is this all there is? And do I have to endure all the bad stuff for these few good moments?

Many others have come to these same sad conclusions about human life. In Brian de Palma's Scarface (1983), drug kingpin Tony Montana achieves the height of earthly success. He has a beautiful wife. He has untold riches. He has a huge villa in Florida. He has a massive hot tub. He throws mammoth parties. He wants for nothing. Yet after an argument at an expensive restaurant one night, he turns to his best friend and despondently says: "Is this it? Is this what it's all about, Manny? Eating, drinking, fucking, sucking, snorting, then what? You're 50 with a bag for a belly."

Tony Montana developed a contempt for life. He did not care about what it had to offer, even though he had it all. And he did not mind dying after he saw how little life really matters.

Shakespeare's Hamlet thought the same thing. In several scenes, Hamlet rues the crude banality of human existence. Like Tony Montana, he says: "What is a man,/ If his chief good and market of his time/ Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more." Hamlet, Act IV, sc. iv, l. 31-33. Hamlet understands--as I do--that life's so-called "good things" add up to little more than "[b]estial oblivion." Act IV, sc. iv, l. 38. In fact, Hamlet grows so disenchanted with life's petty potential rewards that he prefers death to living: "O that this too too solid flesh would melt,/ Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!/ Or that the Everlasting had not fixt his/ Canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God!/ How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable/ Seem to me all the uses of this world!/ Fie on't! O, fie! 'tis an unweeded garden/ That grows to seed; things rank and gross in/ nature/ Possess it merely." Act I, sc. ii, l. 129-138. Later, he dismisses the world as "no/ other thing [] than a foul and pestilent/ congregation of vapors." Act II, sc. ii, l. 308-309. And he dismisses man, too: "What piece of work is/ man!...what is/ this quintessence of dust?" Act II, sc. ii, l. 309-310, 314-315.

Is this what it's all about, Manny? A "quintessence of dust?" "Bestial oblivion?" An existence "weary, stale, flat and unprofitable?" "An unweeded garden that grows to seed?" "A foul and pestilent congregation of vapors?" Taken in the abstract, Hamlet is dead on. Life pretty much sucks. And even the good stuff is a pretty poor palliative for the endless difficulties it inflicts upon us.

I am permissive toward abortion because I really could care less whether another person enters this brutal world. After all, earthly life offers little more than "bestial oblivion," anyway, so why should I care whether some new beast gets to eat, sleep or feed? It just doesn't matter to me. If a woman chooses to end her pregnancy, good for her: She's saving the little tyke a whole lot of trouble.

But what about abortion opponents? They must have different expectations from life than I do. They must not really ponder human existence. They must genuinely like what life has to offer. They must really like eating, sleeping, fucking, sucking and snorting, even if they wind up with bags for bellies. After all, they are willing to kill doctors in order to defend potential life. Let me say that again: Potential life. They like life so much that they are willing to commit murder so that a clump of cells may one day eat, sleep, fuck, suck and snort. They are committed not just to an existing person's right to eat, sleep, fuck, suck and snort. They are also committed to a non-existent person's right to do so. Now that shows real dedication to earthly life. It's a dedication I certainly do not share. To each his own, I suppose.

In my experience, life is no bowl of cherries. It is hard. It is full of misery and pain. When we do enjoy good moments, they are precious. But how rare they are! And viewed in the abstract, how petty! Is this why we're alive, then? To undergo endless difficulty punctuated by a few slender moments of bestial joy? We cling to life like any other mammal. We fear death because we do not know what awaits us. So, as Hamlet says, we "bear those ills we have/ [rather] than fly to others that we know not of." Hamlet, Act III, sc. i. l. 83-84.

We are the only ones who can create meaning in our lives. Hamlet found meaning by finding a purpose: Taking revenge for his murdered father. He did not seek mere "bestial oblivion" or "worldly comfort." He impressed his soul on his existence to transcend his "mortal coil." His life took on greater significance. And fittingly, he died in the process.

I have not died yet. I know that life does not offer much. Yet I try to do what Hamlet did. I am trying to live for something greater than bestial oblivion. I like bestial oblivion as much as the next man (beast). But my real joy flows from the idea that I am doing something beyond the flesh: Writing. I had to find something to make this maddening journey bearable. It was my choice.

Even then, I do not hold my own life in high esteem. On the whole, life is more trouble than it's worth. Only instinctual self-preservation holds me in check.

So from my view, so what if a woman gets an abortion? I have no philosophical problem with any activity that saves another from this harrowing sphere of pain.

MY TEETH ARE DOOMED

AN ESSAY

I am getting older. Every day, time leaves new marks on my body. When the light shines a certain way, I notice time's inscriptions. Lines emanate away from my eyes, especially when I smile. I have more wrinkles on my forehead. My hands are starting to look cracked, crooked and worn. Hair is sprouting up in places I'd rather not discuss. And my teeth aren't so pearly white anymore; in fact, I can feel them getting weaker by the week.

Our bodies doomed to decay. That's the problem with bodies. Beauty and youth please us. But we understand how fleeting they are. We understand that time is never on our side. When we see a beautiful person, we know they won't be so forever. It's all just a matter of time before remorseless months and years erode even the supplest beauties.

Aging is a natural process. But that doesn't make it any more appealing to us. Death is a natural process too; and very few people like death, either. Still, natural processes can be both scary and reassuring. They are scary because no one wants to get old and die. On the other hand, they are reassuring because everyone reliably knows they will happen. Just as everyone knows a flower will wilt and turn brown, so too does everyone know that we all will die one day. That is just what happens in nature. You can see it. And you can apply it to your own life. It is rhythmic. You can count on it.

But let's get back to the scary part. While nature might provide us analogies to understand what will happen to us in the end, it is no less unpleasant to consider. We are, after all, rather vain creatures. We do not like the idea that our youth and appeal may one day fade. We do not like the idea that our beauty will wilt like the flowers in the garden. We experience so many pleasures in youth. And God forbid that time will steal them from us. It is not a pleasant thought.

Still, we must confront it. I confront it a little bit every day when I notice the new little injuries time has left upon me. In a strange way, it makes me reflective. When I notice something going wrong with my body, it makes me remember how long I've been here. It makes me remember how much I've seen and experienced. I go back through the years and I remember the times when my body did not ache the way it does now. I remember when there was no hair in the places it grows now. Our bodies are like fossils; and our memory confirms to us how long we have been here. Although I do not like the idea that I am decaying, I can at least take some pride in the idea that I have made it this far.

Having said all this, my teeth are doomed. I think they are even more doomed than the rest of my body. My constant coffee abuse, advancing age, lack of insurance and insufficient funds portend a dental disaster of unspeakable magnitude. Last year, I managed to scrape up enough money to get an examination, along with a cleaning and whitening (I am still paying interest on the visits). The dentist scraped unbelievable amounts of plaque from places in my mouth I barely knew existed. Then she flossed mysterious cracks in those unknown regions. She drew blood almost every time she hit the gum.

Toward the end, she said: "It's been a while since your last visit, hasn't it?" Then she offered me some Tylenol.

My poor, doomed teeth. It does not help that I have English ancestry. Genetically, the English have bad teeth. My own circumstances make my naturally bad genetic situation even worse. Every day, I notice my gums getting whiter. There are stains between a couple teeth that were not there before. And I can feel my teeth moving in my gumline in a way I have never felt before. Plus, they tell me I have impacted molars that must be removed before they burrow into my nerves. Put simply, I am in dire dental trouble.

But this is what happens when you get older. Time brutally flogs our bodies. There is little we can do about it. It just happens. Sure, we can live as healthy as we possibly can. We can eat right, exercise and even think positively about the future. But these are mere salves: Nothing can stop time's slow, steady, corrosive assault on our flesh.

It would be nice to escape our bodies for a while. While our bodies might offer numerous ways to experience the world's pleasures, they are also enormously restrictive. They can produce as much pain as pleasure. Time's corrosion is just another terror our bodies must confront. Still, it is so easy to put trust in our bodies. It is banal in the truest sense. We know our bodies better than anything else in our lives. We are stuck with them. We see them every day. We monitor them and scrutinize them. We must endure their chemical tempests and painful discomforts. They matter to us because they place insistent demands on us: Feed me; relieve me; give me rest; make me comfortable; make me feel pleasure. If we ignore them, we suffer pain for it. And we learn from earliest memory that pain is not good. So we slavishly pander to our bodies.

It is no accident that the law targets the body. Almost everyone cares about his own body. If there is something no man wants to experience, it is bodily discomfort. So the law threatens to inflict bodily discomfort on anyone who transgresses its commands. While some exceptional people hold their bodies in contempt, they are too rare to make a difference. The law concerns itself with efficacy: It knows that almost everyone fears bodily punishment, so that is what it threatens to maintain order.

So we spend our lives worrying about our bodies until time slowly eradicates them. It is quite a pathetic lot if you think about it. Still, it is completely natural. As living organisms, we want to stay alive. To stay alive, we must preserve our bodies. We fear death largely because it means we can no longer enjoy what life has to offer our bodies. We know that we will die in time because we see what time does to others' bodies. So we fear aging, because we know what it leads to.

But what about life beyond the body? Is it possible to achieve some mental satisfaction without worrying about the body's inevitable decay? Throughout history, we find examples of men who did not put all their faith in bodily comfort. There have been men who lived for something beyond placating their bodies and avoiding death. In fact, we tend to revere men who lived beyond their bodies because they are so rare. It is no accident that Jesus Christ is the central hero in Western Civilization: He gave up his body so that others could enjoy theirs. There is a nobility in life beyond the body because so few people can effectively ignore their bodies. Most people fear aging and death. Most people simply live to experience the pleasures the body can give. Love it or hate it, that is just how we are.

I am no martyr. I am just as worried about my body as the next man. But I fear pain more than I fear death. I wish I could hold my body in contempt. Yet the body is rapaciously insistent; it is difficult to ignore its demands for long. No matter how strongly I believe in abstract principles and ideas, I cannot say whether I could maintain my commitment to them in the face of torture, hunger or agony. I am worried about my hair and my teeth, for goodness' sake; imagine how I would feel if confronted with genuine bodily scourges?

But death is different than pain. Pain is about the body and its limitations. Death is about existence and non-existence. Death rules out the body altogether. In that light, it is easier to romanticize non-existence than pain. In fact, non-existence lends itself much more to abstract principles than mere contempt for the body. Death frees us from concern about the body. Death liberates us from the body's incessant demands and penalties. True, death might cut short our ability to experience the body's joys. But it also forecloses the body's ability to torment us any longer. There is some objective, rational appeal to that possibility. If bodily life--on the whole-- appears to offer more pain than pleasure, why go on living at all? It is better to cease to exist in order to avoid pain than to exist for nothing more than pain.

Yet this broaches another conundrum: What if death does not end our pain? After all, no one has ever reported to us what death is like. No one has come back from that "undiscover'd country from whose bourn/ No traveler returns." Hamlet, Act III, sc. i, lines 80-81. We have all seen aging and pain because living people experience aging and pain. We see what happens to them. They can tell us how bad they feel.

But no one has experienced death and lived to tell about it. Who knows what awaits us there. That is what makes people fear death: Unknowability. Maybe something dreadful happens once we die. No one knows. No one can know. No one can sense anything once they die, let alone communicate what they sense. And that is why death continues to terrify us. So as bad as bodily life may be, we choose to "bear what ills we have,/ [rather] Than fly to others that we know not of." Hamlet, Act III, sc. i, lines 82-83.

I have argued before that it is unreasonable to fear death because death cuts short our bodily ability to sense anything. http://reasoncommercejustice.blogspot.com/2009/05/why-we-fear-death.html. But once again, we see that humans are not invariably reasonable. They fear death even though death eliminates their sensory capacities--including the capacity to experience pain--because they fear the unknown. That fear is not reasonable because reason is based in human sense. Death obliterates sense, so it is not reasonable to fear it.

It is actually more reasonable to fear aging than death. We can sense our bodies aging. We can feel our bodies weakening. We know that aging will bring us more pain and less bodily satisfaction. We can sense all these things. Our reason has something to grasp in that situation.

I reasonably worry about my teeth. I have every reason to believe they are doomed. And I know it's going to hurt.

But with death: Who knows what I'll feel? That is strangely reassuring.

GAMBLING ON HAPPINESS : LOVE, KNOWLEDGE AND RISK

AN ESSAY

For three years, my close friend Joe Simeone composed an operatic adaptation to the 1952 play "Dial M For Murder." Last week, I attended an opening in which he presented several passages from his work. In brief, the opera follows the same intricate plot as the play: A man named Tony blackmails both his wealthy wife, Margot, and another man named Lesgate; Tony exploits the blackmail to entice Lesgate to murder his wife; the plan goes wrong and Margot kills Lesgate in self-defense; Tony manipulates the evidence to pin the murder on Margot; the police arrest Margot and she is sentenced to death; an enterprising police detective worries about the verdict and discovers that Tony orchestrated the result; Margot goes free and discovers her husband's betrayal.

Through the operatic form, Joe Simeone tells the story with a keener eye for emotion than plot. He did not compose an "operatic thriller;" he composed an opera. As such, he explores the emotional relationship between Tony and Margot with greater detail than the play. At the outset, Simeone tells us that Tony's and Margot's marriage was "loveless," but that Tony had recently begun to shower affections on his wife. To make that point, the opera begins with a sweeping aria in which Margot reveals that she has "rediscovered" her love for her husband. This is ironic, of course, because Tony has already betrayed her; he is even planning to kill her. During the aria, Margot sings a remarkable line: "It's a risk to believe love is real."

Margot may seem naïve for daring to believe that her devious husband actually loves her. But she is not alone. We all want love in our lives because love is a tantalizing pathway to happiness. Yet love is a troublesome thing because it cuts in two directions. We can love and we can be loved. Real happiness exists only when both elements find expression in a relationship. When only one person loves, the result is unrequited disappointment because the other does not return the feeling. And when only one person receives love, the result is awkward discomfort. Put another way, love only really "works" when there is no disparity between the emotions on both sides.

Sigmund Freud said as much. In Civilization and its Discontents, Freud explained that human beings generally "strive after happiness; they want to become happy and remain so." Civilization and its Discontents (Strachey, trans. p. 25). He went on to explain that happiness has both a "positive and negative aim," namely: "[the] absence of pain and unpleasure and the experiencing of strong feelings of pleasure." Id. Additionally, Freud noted that happiness cannot arise as long as unhappiness exists in a person's life. And unhappiness is "much less difficult to experience" than happiness. Id. at 26.

Freud identified three main sources for unhappiness: (1) our own bodies, which are doomed to aging, pain, discomfort and decay; (2) the external world, which can "rage against us with unimaginable forces of destruction;" and (3) our relations to other men. Civilization and its Discontents at p.26. He went on to say that unhappiness flowing from our "relations to other men" represents the worst possible unhappiness: It is the unhappiness of betrayal, deception, unfaithfulness, personal disappointment, spurned love, heartbreak, frustrated yearning and all the other bitter emotions that arise when our relations with others do not follow the path we wanted.

If so much unhappiness can flow from relationships with others, why do people bother with them? Freud posed the same question. He offered one surefire way to avoid "relationship unhappiness:" "Against the suffering which may come upon one from human relationships the readiest safeguard is voluntary isolation." Civilization and its Discontents at p. 27. He called this the "happiness of quietness." By eliminating a source for unhappiness, a person makes it easier to experience happiness.

But Freud acknowledged that "voluntary isolation" is not very satisfying. After all, mere freedom from unhappiness is nowhere near as fulfilling as experiencing positive happiness. For that reason, Freud explained that human beings constantly gamble on love to satisfy their "passionate striving for a positive fulfillment of happiness." Civilization and its Discontents at p. 32.

Put another way, freedom from unhappiness and pain is not enough. People want the ecstasy and joy that flows from real, positive happiness. And positive happiness flows most strongly from that most dangerous category: Relations with other men. Still, the potential emotional payout from love is so great that people all too willingly take their chances with it. Nonetheless, Freud warned: "The weak side of this technique is easy to see; otherwise no human being would have thought of abandoning this path to happiness for any other. It is that we are never so defenseless against suffering as when we love, never so helplessly unhappy as when we have lost our loved object or its love." Id. at 33.

Against this background, Margot sang more than she knew when she observed: "It's a risk to believe love is real." Love is an extremely dangerous risk. When a person dares to abandon himself to love, he makes himself "defenseless against suffering;" he even risks "helpless unhappiness" if he does not get the emotional payout he expects from the relationship. Worse, these unhappy results depend exclusively on "relations to other men." Specifically, the "love pathway to happiness" depends on how another person acts and feels. We humans are subjective creatures. We know only what we sense. Facts exist only to the extent that we manifest a subjective belief in their reliability. In that light, it is very difficult to gauge whether another person feels any emotion as we do, let alone love.

Beyond risk, love is about knowledge. Freud said that love has two components: Loving and being loved. We only feel love's joy when we know another person feels strongly about us, too. It is not enough to feel strongly about another person. Rather, love's intoxicating pleasure only really arises when we are satisfied that another person feels as strongly about us as we do about them.

But how do we know that? It is hard enough to know what exists in anyone else's mind. Yet when we risk our happiness on love, we force ourselves to decipher what another person feels and thinks. This is extremely difficult; in fact, it is nearly impossible. There is no way to know for certain whether another person loves us, because we cannot literally step into that person's mind. Rather, we must examine secondary facts to make inferences about the other person's beliefs. This is an imperfect method at best, but it is the only one we have. Even direct statements from our love interest are not definitive proof of what he feels. Humans are, after all, infamously dishonest.

In this light, it is easy to see that love is no easy thing. It does not just a risk; it demands some faith, too, because the facts necessary to establish love are unknowable.

Again, the question arises: With these thematic difficulties in mind, why bother with love? Consider just how much is at stake. By daring to love, a person opens himself to boundless unhappiness and pain flowing from "relations to other men." True, if his love pans out, he feels overwhelmingly positive emotions: That is the potential payout from the "risk." But in order to experience love, a person must satisfy himself that another person feels a certain way. It is impossible to certainly know what another person feels, so love actually involves a double risk: (1) Risking the relationship in the first place; and (2) Risking that a person will feel the way you expect. Disappointment can arise from either risk. There is nothing you can really do to stop it; you can't control how another person thinks or feels. In this sense, love is also a risk because a person must entrust his happiness to the subjective whim of another person over whom he has no control. And because human beings are notoriously untrustworthy and inconstant, it almost seems an unreasonable risk.

If love is so unreasonable, then why do so many people pursue it? The fact that human beings--like Margot--blindly risk love is testament to the assertion that reason does not rule us. If human beings were entirely rational, they would probably never love. After all, rational thinking involves balancing risks against benefits. A rational mind analyzes the potential pain that could result from a transaction and queries whether the potential pleasure is worth the chance. As Freud explained, love can yield immeasurable pain. And because that pain flows from forces largely beyond our control (i.e., the whims of others), it really makes no rational sense to take the risk. Although love offers a huge benefit in pleasure, a reasonable man would immediately see that it always presents an intolerable risk in pain. That risk would invariably outweigh the benefit in pleasure.

But we know that human beings live to love. They cast reason aside. They take the risk, even though it is unreasonable. Put simply, love's emotional payout in happiness is so intoxicating that it overwhelms human reason. Love's pleasure is so hypnotic that it submerges all potential pitfalls. Among those pitfalls is the dangerous need to place individual emotional well-being in the hands of another person--and that person is probably not trustworthy. Men ignore those risks when they love because it just feels so, so good. If reason held men in check, they would never allow themselves to remain blind to the dangers. But blind they remain; they dive headlong into the risks because it just feels so damn good.

"It's a risk to believe love is real." In one line, Margot expressed the timeless--yet perilously uncertain-- human quest for love. She hinted at the risks. She knew there was a danger. But love made her feel so good that she willingly blinded herself to it. She suspended her reason. Objectively, that might appear foolish. But we all have done it. And we probably always will. Love is never objective.

In short, we all desperately want positive happiness. We are not content with the "happiness of quietness." No, we crave "relations with other men." We gamble on positive happiness by playing familiar games. Those games are rarely reasonable. In fact, most are extremely dangerous.

Love is probably the most dangerous game of all: Enticing, risky, unknowable, unverifiable, tempestuous, fickle, maddening; yet offering pleasure beyond imagination. It is a recipe for unreasonable risk every time.

RETHINKING CAPITAL PUNISHMENT : LET'S JUST BLOW THEM UP

CONSIDERED OPINION

By : Mr. Henry B. Henker, Esq., Legal Counsel to the Office of the Prosecutor, Austin, Texas (2006- present); Former Commercial Litigator, Henker, Haudegen & Daggett, LLP, a Fortune 250 Law Firm Specializing in Complex Financing Transactions (1994-2006); Contributing Author, Humanity Weekly (1987-present); Charter Donation Manager, UNICEF (1986-1997); Annual Keynote Speaker, The Dignity Association of Eastern Texas (1990-2003); Christian; Humanitarian; Married; Republican.

Capital punishment evokes strong emotions in America. Many Americans believe that States should not execute convicted criminals. Others believe that dangerous felons deserve to die for certain outrageous offenses. Still others believe that capital punishment should be applied on a wider basis against all kinds of criminals, from credit card scammers to double parkers. But no matter where we stand on the issue, capital punishment requires us to grapple with momentous issues involving State power, individual rights, liberty, dignity and history.

No one can really debate that the State has power over life and death. Western law functions on the premise that the sovereign decides who lives and who dies. When the American colonies broke from England in 1776, that sovereign power descended to the States. The States, in turn, yielded some of that power to the new Federal government. Still, the State's power to allow life and proclaim death remained intact. States executed people in 1776 and they execute people today. No one can really contend that the sovereign right to kill lawbreakers is "new." In fact, it is as about traditional a power as you can find in our system. Even our Constitution says that both the States and the Federal government have the power to "deprive life" as long as they afford Due Process of law. See, e.g, U.S. Const. Amendments V; XIV § 1.

Nonetheless, it is silly to think we have not changed as a people since 1776. We have electricity and cars now. We have the internet and movie theaters. We have even changed the way we think about core issues in our democracy. For instance, we allow women to vote now. We freed the slaves in 1863 and we enacted Civil Rights laws in 1964. These things would have been unheard-of in our forefathers' time. Simply put, our society is constantly evolving. In that light, it is only natural that we have begun to think differently about capital punishment, too.

At the outset, we must remember that Americans like to punish criminals. When a criminal commits a shocking offense against public sensibilities, we like to see him suffer. How else would we affirm our commitment to law if we did not harshly punish those who break it? How else would we express our common morality and decency if we did not harshly punish those who act immorally and indecently? Additionally, criminal punishment is revenge, and revenge is natural. When some vagrant kills our spouse, it is only natural to want to kill him, too. In this sense, capital punishment both upholds the law and quenches our natural thirst for revenge. Thankfully, killing criminals also prevents them from killing again. And it sends a message to would-be killers that they, too, will die if they try anything cute.

Still, we respect human dignity in America, too. In the past, we used to hang criminals by the neck until dead. In 1676, our English forebears even disemboweled a traitor alive then carved him up in Rhode Island. Until the 19th Century, we even publicly displayed executed criminals until the crows picked them clean. For better or worse, we decided as a society that such execution methods expressed insufficient respect for the criminal's dignity. Although these methods legitimately fulfilled the State's right to punish criminals, we decided that we were too humane to subject our fellow citizens to such horrible pain before death.

As Americans, we believe in dignity and humanity. Although we have no tolerance for criminals, we are progressive people. When we execute people today, we ensure that we use only the most humane methods possible. Lethal injection represents our society's balance between respect for law and respect for a criminal's dignity. In theory, lethal injection simply extinguishes life without inflicting additional pain or terror on the criminal. Once the chemicals flow into the criminal's body, he simply loses consciousness and justice is done.

For decades now, our society has largely accepted lethal injection. Many Americans are comfortable in the knowledge that lethal injection both adequately punishes lawbreakers while maintaining their dignity and ensuring our own humanity. After all, we do not butcher people anymore; we simply "put them to sleep," just like unwanted animals. This is humane. True, it does not make for a very satisfying spectacle. But it adequately strikes a balance between law enforcement and individual dignity.

Or so it seems. Recent research suggests that lethal injection may not be as dignified or humane as we once believed. After all, current protocols for lethal injection involve three discrete drugs: One sedates the criminal, the second paralyzes him and the third terminates heart and pulmonary function. Death does not occur until the third dose. We cannot know whether the prisoner suffers while tranquilized or paralyzed; after all, the paralytic agent renders it impossible for him to speak or move. It is entirely conceivable that he is writhing in horrible agony before paramedics administer the final dose. Furthermore, there are many documented cases in which death does not occur for more than two hours after the initial dose. There are even more cases in which paramedics cannot locate suitable veins for intravenous linkage. Sometimes the intravenous connections are faulty, causing corrosive chemicals to flow under the prisoner's skin, prolonging the procedure. That, in turn, prolongs the agony and anxiety. Put simply, lethal injection may not be as humane and dignified as we like to believe.

But there is a solution to these problems. As a society, we can reaffirm our commitment to law and dignity by simply blowing up convicted criminals with explosives.

Explosives would solve many of the nagging problems associated with lethal injection. By strapping four pounds of C4 plastic explosive to a convicted criminal, we can assure a quick and relatively painless death. Once detonated, the explosives will literally tear the offender apart in a heartbeat. Unlike lethal injection, it will not take hours for the offender to die. In one instant, the prisoner gets blown to pieces: There he is; there he goes. Done. That resolves the deeply problematic issues surrounding unnecessary pain and suffering in the lethal injection procedure. I mean, it can't really hurt to get vaporized, can it? You don't really have to time to reflect on it. It's just: BAM! Game Over. In my view, that reflects admirable concern for the prisoner's dignity and humanity: It is humane to blow people up.

Explosive executions offer many advantages over lethal injection and other methods. There is no way to botch an explosive execution. No one can survive four pounds of C4. And if the detonator fails, nothing happens. A technician can easily replace the detonator and get on with the show. This eliminates the troublesome medical issues relating to lethal injection. After all, doctors would be best suited to ensure that a person dies from lethal injection. Yet doctors' Hippocratic oath prevents them from participating in executions. This increases the likelihood of a botched execution. With explosive executions, however, you don't need doctors. You just need a guy to press a button. That is not very technical, and it certainly does not require 10 years of medical school to get it right. Even a high-school dropout can push a button. Hell, even a dog can.

Despite these advantages, there are some drawbacks to explosive executions. For one, they are messy. No one likes clean-up. Blowing up a person scatters shredded clothing, intestines, bone fragments, burned hair, eyeballs, fingers and charred kneecaps all over the place. Additionally, it scalds the room and deposits blood-crusted soot over a considerable radius. It takes time to clean up such a mess; plus it smells unpleasant. Not only that, but it also can be difficult to assemble the prisoner's remains for burial. It is much easier to bury a prisoner executed by lethal injection. You just unstrap him from the gurney and throw him in a pine box. But not so for a criminal executed by explosives. You need to spend twelve hours scouring through wreckage for burned pieces. That's neither fun nor dignified.

Explosive executions also require different witness accommodations than those appropriate for lethal injections. It would be both impracticable and dangerous to allow witnesses to watch an explosive execution from the room next door. To effectively and safely blow up a criminal, witnesses would have to watch remotely, perhaps by closed-circuit television. Additionally, the execution chamber would have to be significantly larger than chambers used to conduct lethal injections. Detonating explosives requires space; and many prisons do not have much extra space on hand. In that light, States would have to either build large new exploding chambers or conduct explosive executions outdoors. The first alternative would be quite expensive. The second would be somehow inappropriate. And both would deny witnesses the chance to get close to the execution scene. For better or worse, witnesses traditionally enjoy looking their tormentors in the eye before they die. That will not be possible in explosive executions.

We acknowledge these drawbacks to explosive executions. On balance, however, we conclude that explosives reflect a much better way to execute criminals than lethal injection. Although it will cost money to construct new exploding chambers, we believe it will prove a valuable investment given their ultimate benefits. And although witnesses have an interest in watching criminals suffer up close, we must remember that capital punishment is about the prisoner and the State: Witnesses are secondary. In a word, explosive executions fulfill both the prisoner's interest in a quick, painless death and the State's interest in punishing crime. Blowing criminals up is simply the most efficacious manner currently available. The fact that explosive executions are dignified and humane only increases their appeal for State governments nationwide.

We also acknowledge that victims and their families have an interest in securing justice for their pain. We understand that victims and their families want to see their tormentors suffer in the same way they suffered. We understand that victims and their families might worry that blowing up a criminal might be "going too easy" on them. After all, if a murderer slowly flayed a child to death with a scalpel, it might seem unfair to reward him with an instantaneous, explosive end.

We know how much victims matter. But we suggest that blowing up a criminal is quite satisfying, even if it is quick. True, victims and their families will have to watch the criminal explode by television. But it is amazing what modern-day camera techniques can show. Victims and their families not only get to hear the big BANG of the initial blast, but will also be able to watch slow motion instant replays of the criminal exploding from various angles. They will also receive complimentary Blu-Ray discs featuring all footage associated with the execution, including commentary, production notes and a musical score.

Considering these advantages, we believe that explosive executions will please victims and their families, despite their limited duration. On the whole, then, explosive executions will please everyone: The State, the victims and the prisoner.

It is an easy choice. We must start blowing up criminals immediately.

THE NATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF HEARTLESS FORTUNATE PRICKS COMMITTED TO SOLVING EVERYONE ELSE'S PROBLEMS WITH CONDESCENDING PLATITUDES AND RUDE QUIPS

POLITICAL PARTIES FOR A CHANGING WORLD

By : Mr. J. Curtis Hinckley, Official Party Spokesman; Ph. D., Yale University (Business Communications); Former Chairman, Conrad, Killrath & Wedgeworth, P.C., A Professional Corporation Serving Professional Corporations in Professional Matters Professionally; Member, The United States Guild of Tax Examiners; Crossword Puzzle Expert; Married; Real Estate Owner (free and clear of all liens and encumbrances); Senior Partner; South Florida Responsibility Association; Untroubled Man.

Some people have it. Some don't. Some people grew up in stable households with good parents. Others frittered away and went off track. Basically, some people have problems and can't move on.

It takes some skill and good fortune to achieve success in America. We are happy to say that we are both skillful and fortunate. We are successful men and women. We never faced life-threatening illnesses, financial misfortunes or even the occasional insult during childhood. Rather, we had it pretty easy all the way through: We got jobs, we advanced, we made money and here we are at the top of the heap. Our parents always helped us. And they didn't die until we were good and ready for them to.

Life is not that difficult as long as problems don't materialize. It takes stability to achieve success, and problems make stability impossible. For example, it's impossible to get good grades all the way through high school, college, professional school and beyond if your mother falls ill and no one can take care of her. And without good grades, you can kiss a good job goodbye. Stability is essential to success. Yet it's so easy to experience problems. But when you have your eyes on the prize, you can't let yourself get bogged down in illnesses, love affairs, obsessions or far-flung emotions. You need to focus in and get the job done.

As successful people who never experienced significant problems, we find it extremely tiresome to hear about people with problems. After all, we made it. We could really care less whether someone else makes it. And in most cases, we are quite certain that other people don't make it because they are just not smart enough to overcome their problems. For a long time, we simply kept to ourselves and enjoyed our success. But we've had enough listening to others whine about their troubles. That is why we came together to form the National Association of Heartless Fortunate Pricks Committed to Solving Everyone Else's Problems with Condescending Platitudes and Rude Quips. If people want to complain about difficulty in their lives, we are ready to help out with glib, dismissive, smug and mean offhand comments.

Look: We don't have anything to worry about. We pay our bills. We get along fine at our jobs. We have stable families. That gives us a unique insight into others' lives. When we see others with problems, we can sit back and identify what's wrong. Then we can pronounce a cursory judgment about what to do. True, not everyone can enjoy a problem-free life. But we are happy to lend our one-line wisdom to everyone who is doomed to struggle in this world.

Let us start with unemployed people who are looking for work. They say they have been searching for months. They say they attend job fairs and troll internet postings. They say they have circulated resumes to hundreds of potential employers. They say that no one is hiring. They say that they are even willing to work for lesser pay and no benefits. They say they can no longer collect State unemployment insurance. They don't know anyone who can find them a job. They are worried to death because they have families to feed and rent to pay.

We have a simple answer for job-seekers: "Get a job." We are Heartless Fortunate Pricks. We are not unemployed. It's too bad that you don't have a job. But hey, you just need to try harder. Just get up and get a job. It's not rocket science. You can do it if you try hard enough. If you've already been trying for over a year, well, sorry. Gotta dig a little deeper there, pal.

Frankly, we find all these complaints so tiresome. After all, we never had to worry about getting a job. We had jobs waiting for us from day one. It is inconceivable to us how a person could not have a job. That is why we say: Just go get a job, already. How hard can it be? For goodness sakes, just go do it.

Let us move on to people with health problems. Some people do not achieve success because they come down with some debilitating illness. Some people get cancer and give up on life. Some people develop mental disorders, like depression and anxiety. Others suffer horrible accidents that leave them paralyzed or maimed. Still others have chronic diabetes, HIV, liver problems, kidney difficulty and even carpal tunnel. No matter what ailment plagues them, their complaint is always the same: I can't achieve my goals because I am sick and I am in pain.

Sick? In pain? So what? Success comes to those who work at it, whether they are sick or not. As Heartless Fortunate Pricks, we have a platitude for these folks: "Keep your chin up." Sure, you might call that a dumb thing to say, but who really cares? We still have our houses and jobs while you're staring death in the face. We even get to have sex four times a week while you're bed-ridden and eating through a nose-tube. Too bad for you. Look, we're trying to help you out here. Just keep your chin up and you'll be fine. You've got nothing to worry about. And for all those people who say they are "depressed," we have something else to say: "It's all in your mind." We don't really understand what you're going through, but from our perspective it all looks pretty silly. Just pull yourself up by the bootstraps and get on with it.

We are healthy. We have really good lives. We don't feel pain every day, nor do we suffer from life-altering disabilities. We have all our limbs and we even urinate comfortably. We don't catch diseases and we are not about to die. We don't even know anyone who suffers from heart trouble. As Heartless Fortunate Pricks, we live in a contented world. That is why we are uniquely situated to pass judgment on your problems. We are pleased to offer you Rude Quips and Condescending Platitudes to help you make it through your adversity.

Next we consider people who claim that "family problems" make it hard for them to cope with everyday life. These problems include abusive husbands who browbeat and whip their wives every night with a belt. Or a mother who struggles to raise 10 mentally-handicapped children without a partner or an income. It might even include a child who grows up in a broken home surrounded by drugs, crime, violence and despair.

These folks say that they are "emotionally disturbed" because they have no "peace at home." Without peace at home, they cannot focus on schoolwork, careers or advancement. Put simply, because they do not have stable family lives, they cannot achieve success.

We have advice for people with "family troubles." To the wife with an abusive husband, we say: "Stand up to him and be tough." To the mother who struggles to raise 10 mentally-handicapped children without a partner or income, we say: "Hold the course; you'll make it." And to the child living in a broken home, we say: "Don't blame your family for your own shortcomings."

In all honesty, we find these "family problems" to be poor excuses for failure in life. Just because a husband abuses his wife does not excuse the wife from earning a living or winning a promotion. A strong woman can persevere through everything, even daily beatings. Success is there for the taking; strong people take it no matter what challenges they face. And just because a mother tries to raise "special needs" kids without an income does not entitle her to sympathy for failure in life. After all, she's healthy and strong. If she really had the desire, she could change diapers, buy clothes, clean the house, manage medications, take the kids to doctor visits during the week, commute, cook meals AND hold down four full-time jobs in two States.

What's stopping her? "I'm so stressed out," she wails. Bullshit. She's just flat-out lazy.

There's nothing wrong with our families. We've never dealt with violence or drug use in the home. We've never had to care for "special needs" kids or mentally-handicapped midgets. We have obedient wives, good kids and plenty of money to pay the bills. Everyone has health insurance in our house. Everyone follows a predictable daily schedule. We know how to live. We don't have "family problems," and they don't distract us from giving our all at work. That is why we simply do not understand how so many people can complain about their "family lives." From our perspective, they just need to dust themselves off and get a grip.

You can solve your problems. In America, it's your responsibility to manage your own life. If you can't hack it, that's your problem. Don't look to others for help. No one has an obligation to help his neighbor in this country. Still, although we are Heartless Fortunate Pricks, we are happy to provide Condescending Platitudes and Rude Quips to help you through your toughest times. We don't claim to understand your issues. But we are prepared to minimalize, trivialize and ridicule them for your own good.

So for the last time, we say to everyone who has problems in the world: "Just get out there, get up, get a job, work harder, move on, feel better and do it right."

Trust us. You'll be fine. There are plenty of people who have it worse than you. But we don't.

THE LAW HAS NO POWER OVER SOMEONE WHO DOES NOT CARE ABOUT HIS BODY

AN ESSAY

In many essays over the last year, I have paraphrased Martin Luther's argument that the law has power only over the body and property. See, e.g., On Governmental Authority (1523) at p. 23: "The temporal government has laws which extend no further than to life and property and external affairs on earth[.]" Luther draws a distinction between "worldly authority" and "divine authority." He says that the "world is God's enemy" and that a wise prince is a "mighty rare bird." Id. at pp. 60-61. Yet at the same time, he asserts that worldly authority fulfills God's will because it targets "wickedness" and protects meek Christians from violence. Thus, while worldly authority may be crass and unappetizing, it performs a "Christian" function by restraining criminals from inflicting violence.

These ideas influenced me. They further weakened my already weak respect for the law. I shared Luther's low estimation of the law precisely because of the law's base subject matter. In the final analysis, the law's power derives solely from its ability to impact men's bodies and their property. These are external things. They do not transcend time. They have nothing to do with men's beliefs, conscience or thoughts. They are ephemeral, even petty. Human beings who live only to satisfy their bodies and gain property are superficial creatures. Some might even call them hedonists, or at least fatally selfish. Ironically, however, commercial success depends solely on gaining property, which translates into bodily comfort. Commerce typifies "the world." It scarcely warrants surprise, then, that Luther said "the world is God's enemy."

Despite its superficial powers, the law relishes its authority. And for good reason: Because people value their bodies and property so much in this world, it makes sense that they respect the law. After all, the law can seize their property, injure their bodies and take away the things that give them pleasure. True, it cannot compel them to believe things or have honor. But most people could care less about those things. They just want to use their bodies as they wish and buy things that make them feel good. The law influences them because they know the law can impact their bodies and property. It holds them in check because no one wants to experience bodily pain or discomfort, nor does anyone want to lose property. The law works because people are superficial: They like their bodies and property, so they are afraid to lose them.

But what would happen if someone had utter contempt for his body or property? What possible influence could the law have on a man who did not care whether he suffered pain, or whether he owned anything? In a word, the law would wield no power over such a man. If he truly did not care whether someone imprisoned him, beat him, tortured him or executed him, nothing could possibly restrain him from acting in a way that would give rise to those penalties. In the same way, if he did not care whether he lost everything he possessed, the law would not impress him with garnishments, judgments, forced sales or seizures. Put simply, men who do not value their bodies or property can live beyond the law's influence.

That is not to say that the law would not take action against such a man. If the man committed a crime warranting imprisonment, it would imprison him. But the man would not care. In a strange way, his apathy and indifference to punishment would deny the law's effect. The law proceeds on the assumption that it inflicts suffering on an offender for acting in a way it condemns. It asserts its power by doing something to the offender that the offender does not like, just as a parent asserts its power over a wayward child by spanking him. The offender does not like bodily pain, just as the child does not like spanking. Yet if the offender really does not care whether his body experiences pain, what power does the law really have?

In short, anyone with pure contempt for his own body or property can deny the law's effect. Although the law rarely admits as much, it asserts power over its subjects by doing painful things to their bodies and property. How else would it maintain control if it did not threaten to take things away that people enjoy? How else would it force compliance if it did not threaten physical misery for failure to comply? Laws might seem "objective," but they really depend on basic human aversions to pain. By the same token, laws only function because they assume that people do not want to suffer bodily pain. Like any power institution, they enforce their will by threatening to do something the subject does not want. Legal scholars can talk all they want about "neutral laws." But in the end, laws depend on subjective reactions to threatened consequences. People don't like it when their bodies suffer or when they lose their property. So the law threatens those things in order to enforce its commands.

But what about the man who refuses to care whether he feels pain? The law cannot intimidate him. It cannot "entice" him to act as it commands. This is the purest possible rebellion against the law, for even if the law penalizes his body, he does not feel he is losing anything he wants. A penalty only asserts true power when the violator feels that he is enduring something he does not like. Most people do not like bodily pain. That is why the law generally works when it inflicts physical pain: It forces the subject to feel something he does not like. That is real power.

Not so for the man who accepts pain without caring. The law asserts no power over him. It does not force him to experience anything he does not want. By remaining indifferent to physical pain, he denies the law's power. He does not allow it to make him feel any worse than he would on his own. That is rebellion.

Still, how many people can truly ignore their bodies and their property? Nerve endings do not lie. From a theoretical standpoint, however, the best way to revolt against the law is not to care about your body or your possessions. That is a very hard thing to do in this society.

On the other hand, think about "martyrs" and "noble men." Jesus Christ endured excruciating physical agony but did not let it affect him. So did all the "Christian heroes" who willingly suffered torture and death because they had contempt for their bodies and the "things of this world."

In general, the law strikes fear because it targets the things that most people live for: Bodily comfort and property. But it loses all its power when it punishes people who do not care about those things.

UNCONDITIONAL LOVE IS A PRECIOUS COMMODITY--AND PSYCHIATRISTS SELL IT

A REFLECTION

I know a lot of people in therapy. Pretty soon I might join them. In one way or another, everyone deals with emotional disturbance and unhappiness in our society. Life can be incredibly painful. After all, we live in a competitive world. We basically contend with two types of people: (1) Indifferent people who want to outdo us; and (2) people we love who are biologically bound to die one day. It is stressful to cope with high stakes and loss all the time. We suffer defeats, losses and setbacks every day. Freud said that it is "much easier to experience unhappiness than happiness." Civilization and its Discontents, 26 (Strachey trans. 1961). Sometimes unhappiness grinds us into submission, no matter how optimistic we try to be. In brief, life takes a toll, even if you had a relatively stable childhood. And that's a rarity.

Yet for all our vulnerability to unhappiness and emotional pain, we strive for love. See generally Civilization and its Discontents, 33-34. We think that love will counteract our unhappiness, or at least make it more bearable. But we seek a very specific kind of love: Love without conditions or qualifications. We want love without first fulfilling others' demands or acceding to others' conceptions about "what we should be." As simple as it sounds, we want people to love us "for who we are," without manipulation or expectation. Generally speaking, expectations result at least in stress and at most in unhappiness. Expectations create a disparity between our conceptions about the future and reality. When reality does not match the expectation, we feel failure or worse. "Love with expectations" results in serious emotional pain. But love without expectations--simple, unconditional love--results in emotional satisfaction, even euphoria. That is what we want from life--strongly positive emotions--because when we feel that good, nothing else can bring us down.

But this is exactly the problem. After all, it is almost impossible to find unconditional love in society. First, our entire social structure does not really value individual happiness. Rather, it merely expects objective economic productivity and "service." Those two basic goals do not require happiness. Quite the contrary, they typically induce unhappiness. Very few people are ever happy about being "objectively economically productive" for someone else, nor are they ever happy about serving some domineering economic master. Yet "success" in our society flows from "productivity" and "service." It does not matter whether a "successful man" feels happy while he productively serves. It does not affect the bottom line. Subjective, individual feelings, in other words, simply do not matter in this objective social scheme.

But what are human beings if not feeling creatures? In the final analysis, every man and woman is a unique entity with emotions and thoughts. Emotions and thoughts are entirely subjective. While they might mean nothing to society or the economy, they mean everything to the individual who thinks and feels. Unconditional love is one of the best feelings a person can experience. Society, however, could care less about it. It is not essential either to productivity or service. This is why unhappiness is so rampant, even among people who appear "successful" and "content." They may reach "objective" standards for social success, but miserably fail to satisfy their own "subjective" emotional needs. In a word, there is much more to life than success.

We should not be surprised that it is hard to find unconditional love in our society. After all, everything has conditions attached in the merciless commercial crucible of life. A condition means something that must be fulfilled before something else is given. It is "bargain-like:" "If you cut my grass, I will give you $100." It channels behavior: You don't get the $100 if you don’t cut the grass. No one does anything for anyone else in our society without imposing some condition on performance. Conditions allow people to induce behavior in others. They allow people to tyrannize and manipulate others for their own gain. This might be perfectly appropriate in cutthroat commerce. But conditions attach not just to contracts and business deals. Rather, they attach just as often to human affections.

We want unconditional love because we are accustomed to conditional love. I read an article in the New York Times last week arguing that modern psychiatry can be explained by reference to "selling unconditional love" in a society that rarely loves, and only conditionally when it does. According to the article, living with conditional love cripples us emotionally. It said that even our parents do not often love us unconditionally. Much to the contrary, they typically want to "control our behavior" by baiting us with love. The article claimed that parents could warp their children not just by scolding and criticizing them, but also by excessively praising them. Each case implicates "conditional love." Praise creates an internal urge for conformity in a child, leading him or her to modify behavior in order to win the praise. Parents only give praise when the child acts "as they wish;" that is conditional love. Without fulfilling the condition, the parent does not praise--and does not love. Praise, then, can be just as damaging as critique.

If parents do not love unconditionally, who will? That is a serious question. If our closest relatives do not love us "for who we are," can we expect commercial actors, bosses and clients to do so? Certainly not. In fact, in commerce we never expect unconditional relationships. We always know that someone wants something from us in return for what they give. As fundamental as that "bargain imperative" may be in commerce, it is anathema to our emotional needs. We might steel ourselves to conditional relationships as we move through life. But in the process we deny ourselves the one thing that might bring us happiness. We will never find unconditional love in commerce; we will never find it in our careers. We never even find it within our own families. People always want us to act in some way that benefits them, or at least matches their sentiments. It is never enough to "be who we are." To fulfill conditions, we must always "be someone else." That leads to emotional ruin in the end.

This is the psychiatrist's niche. The psychiatrist, unlike the boss, the parent, the admirer or even the sometime friend, staunchly empathizes with his patient no matter what. He listens attentively. He does not impose his own moral or family-based judgments on the patient's choices or lifestyle. He offers the love that the patient's own parents refused to give without conditions. This is modern therapy. It is a dose of unconditional love in a world without unconditional love. Perplexingly, however, it is also a commercial relationship. Therapists do not support their patients because they genuinely want to give unconditional love; they do it because they are on the clock. In this sense, they offer "unconditional love conditional upon payment," but even that is better than purely conditional love.

Unconditional love is a precious commodity. The fact that so many people turn to therapy testifies to its pricelessness in our emotional lives. No matter how much we cynically harden ourselves to commercial realities and its myriad conditions, we always must attend to our own emotional health. Unconditional love makes us feel really good. It makes us feel better than any hard-won, competitive victory. Nothing can match it because it affirms our own personality without any effort on our part. It feels good to be loved "simply for who we are" without having first performed a song and dance to placate some demanding taskmaster.

Taskmasters surround us in life. They come in many guises. Even our own spouses and parents might force us to act in unappealing ways to win their love. When it comes to love, no one wants to compete. If we compete for love, it is not really love. We want others to love us because we are who we are, not because we do things for them. But this is a hard thing to do in a world that consistently heaps us with conditions and expectations. This society does not make individual happiness a primary goal. So it leaves us to struggle--often vainly--to obtain it.

JUSTICE SCALIA EXPLAINS : "NOBODY TORTURED ME LAST WEEK"

By : Mr. Antonin G. Scalia, Associate Justice, United States Supreme Court (Appointed by President Ronald Reagan 1986); Law Professor, University of Chicago (1977-1982); Annual Hero of the Federalist Society (2007); Defender of 21st Century constitutional liberty by reference to 18th Century grammar; Founder, the Justice Antonin Scalia Institute for Insulting, Degrading and Denigrating Your Professional Colleagues (Pursuant to Law and Ethics Rules, Common Decency Notwithstanding) (2008-present).

You may have heard that government agents took me into custody last week and subjected me to interrogation. For some odd reason, senior officials in our intelligence community obtained information linking me to an al-Qaeda plot to poison children’s lunches in Washington, D.C. public schools. During my custody, I was asked many questions. Since then, the wildest rumors have been circulating about it. Today I write to put these rumors to rest. Put simply, I am fine. A little tired, yes, but otherwise fine.

Nobody tortured me last week. Rather, agents from the Department of Homeland Security, the CIA and the FBI came to my home last week and informed me that they had “information” linking me to a terror plot. I responded that this was nonsense. The agents ignored my response. They told me they had to “take me into custody” to ask further questions. They said that “the safety of American children” was at stake. It angered me that someone provided false information linking me to a conspiracy to kill children. But I did not blame the officers for arresting me. After all, they were merely acting to protect American children. What did they know? They had to get the truth. If I had to suffer temporary incarceration to dispel their suspicions, I was prepared to pay that price for living in a democracy committed to safety for all.

After surrendering to the agents, they handcuffed me and put a black hood over my head. I remember being pushed into an automobile, then an airplane. The airplane took off. We were airborne for what seemed an eternity. No one spoke during the flight. When we finally landed, I was led down from the plane. I heard the agents speaking. Men answered them in a foreign language. I think it was Polish or Bulgarian, but I do not know for sure. It was Slavic, but I don’t think it was Russian. I was put into another car. I no longer heard the American agents. Now, I only heard Slavic voices.

We stopped after driving about two hours. At this point, I was taken from the car. Someone finally took the hood off my head and uncuffed me. It was early morning. I looked around. I was in a forest near an old concrete bunker. There were several trucks and jeeps parked outside the bunker. About fifteen armed men wearing green uniforms milled around the bunker entrance. I had no idea what they were saying. My eyes hurt; I could not look directly into the light because they were still sensitive. I had not slept during the whole trip. After about a minute, two soldiers with slung rifles approached me and said in accented English: “Come with us. We have some questions to ask you.”

I was taken into the bunker. A stairway led about two stories underground. There was a long hallway with steel doors lining either side. Lamps hung overhead, casting a pale white glow from above. The soldiers opened a door on the left and pushed me in. It was a large room. It smelled musty, as if there was not enough ventilation. There was a single steel table in the middle of the room, with a chair on either side. A few old-looking file cabinets stood against each wall. There was a small door at the back of the room.

“Wait here,” said one of the soldiers. “Make yourself comfortable,” he added, pointing to the chair. I sat down. The soldiers left the room. They closed the heavy steel door and locked it behind them. I sat alone for several hours. There was no bathroom and I desperately needed to relieve myself, since I had no opportunity to do so during my journey up to this point. Finally, I had to relieve myself on the floor.

Several more hours passed. I could not sleep. The chair was too uncomfortable. Strange, scattered thoughts started racing through my head. I started fixating on the bright fluorescent lights that lined the ceiling above me. They buzzed incessantly. One even flickered a little. I started scratching my head and staring at the flickering light. I wanted desperately to sleep but I couldn’t close my eyes for more than a second. I started pitying myself and cursing the whole situation. After all, I hadn’t done anything. But I immediately caught myself: “No, you have to go through this to protect the children.” Even though I was innocent, I willingly absorbed my adversity because I knew our agents had to protect Americans from terror.

Finally, the door in the back of the room creaked open. Two officers came into the room. I looked up at them. One of the officers held a file folder. The other one held a rusty steel device that looked like a leg brace. It had screws on either side and two jagged-looking “jaws.” A moment later, two soldiers came into the room with rifles. After them, another man came into the room. He was black. He was not wearing a green uniform. He looked American; the others did not. He closed the door behind him. The two officers looked back at him. “Are you ready, sir?” They asked. “Yes. Go ahead,” he responded. By his voice, I knew he was American.

“Well, Antonin,” began the officer in accented English, setting his file folder onto the table. “We can make this as easy or as difficult as you want. We know you’ve been speaking to al-Rahwiri.”

“I don’t know what this is all about,” I responded. “You obviously don’t have the right man here.”

The officer looked at me blankly. Then he turned to the other officer and gestured with his head toward the table. The other officer threw the steel device onto the table. “You were saying?” He paused, then continued: “There is no point lying to us. We know you spoke to al-Rahwiri. We know about the D.C. school district. We know you discussed cyanide with him.”

“I don’t know where you got that information, but it can’t be accurate.”

“Antonin, I don’t want to be a bad guy with you. Just tell us you plotted to kill the kids in D.C. and you can go home. If you don’t confess, this is not going to be a good day for you. Please, be easy on yourself. There’s no way out of this. I know you think you’re smart and you know about constitutional law. You think you have rights, even though you routinely deny them to others. Look, don’t be hard on yourself. Just tell us you know about the plot, then we can start talking like two civilized human beings.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t admit to that. It’s just not true. And I will not be coerced into saying otherwise.”

“All right. Have it your way.” The officer gestured to the two soldiers, who violently restrained me. Meanwhile, the second officer picked up the metal device and dangled it in front of my face. The two soldiers strapped me to my chair with ropes. The second officer pushed the chair away from the table and grabbed my right arm. Although I tried to struggle, he placed my right thumb into a slot on the metal device. He started screwing the two jagged “jaws” together around the thumb.

At this point, I was mildly alarmed. The two jaws met around my thumb and slowly crushed it. I could literally feel the bone shattering inside my hand. It hurt quite a lot, but it was bearable. I knew that the officers were simply trying to protect children from terrorists, and that justified my physical suffering. The jaws continued to press together until my thumb was virtually squashed. But I did not cry out, nor did I confess. After all, I hadn’t done anything.

“Why don’t you just say you talked to al-Rahwiri?” asked the officer.

“Because I never talked to him,” I responded despite the bearable pain.

“Well, I don’t believe you,” the officer replied. He then turned to the American behind him. The American nodded and pointed toward a file cabinet. The officer nodded. He said something to the soldiers in his language. They let me go. They opened the file cabinet and removed what looked like garden shears. Then the second officer slowly unscrewed the device from my thumb. I did not have much of a thumb left, but I was managing well.

“Now, Antonin. You can’t hold out forever. You are pretty good liar. You are even willing to take some pain to defend your lies. But no one leaves this room without telling the truth. All right, now where were we? Oh yes, the D.C. school district. Tell us that you bought cyanide with the intention of collaborating with al-Rahwiri to poison children’s lunches.”

“I never did that. I never bought cyanide. And I never intended to poison children. I have just been writing judicial opinions and questioning lawyers at oral argument for the past 10 months.”

He looked at me incredulously. “Well, we’re asking the questions now.” He then picked up his file folder, flipped a few pages and picked one out. “If you did not buy cyanide, why do we have this order ticket from CyanID Co. Inc. memorializing the sale of 500 gallons of liquid cyanide to you, Mr. Antonin G. Scalia on July 1, 2009? You see, Antonin, don’t try to deceive us. We have evidence.”

“That’s a forgery. I never did business with that company. I never bought cyanide.”

“Antonin, please. Evidence is evidence. We even have evidence showing that you transferred funds to CyanID Co. Inc. Now, either you tell us the truth or we will draw it out of you.”

“Go ahead. I never did anything wrong.”

The officer sighed. He nodded to the two soldiers, who again braced me. The second officer tore off my shirt. He then took the garden shears and clipped off my right nipple. “Still don’t know anything, do you, Antonin?”

I did not let the officer intimidate me. “No, I don’t. I will not lie to you.” Although it hurt to lose my right nipple, clipping it off was a necessary measure calculated in good faith to protect American children from terror.

At this point, a cell phone rang. The American answered: “Phelps here.” He stood listening for several minutes, interrupting only to say, “yes,” “oh really” and “un huh” several times. Finally, he said: “Yes, sir” and hung up the phone. He gestured for the officer to approach him. He whispered something to the officer. The officer nodded, glanced over at me, looked back at the American, then saluted. The American pursed his lips, turned around, opened the back door and walked out.

Several silent moments passed. The officer said something to his comrades in his language. The soldiers cut the ropes holding me to the chair. The second officer opened the file cabinet and put away the garden shears. He then took my shirt and put it over my shoulders. Finally, the lead officer said in English: “We have received information indicating that you are no longer a suspect. You may leave now.” He abruptly turned and left the room. The second officer followed. The two soldiers stayed with me. I just sat there.

Within minutes, two doctors came into the room and bandaged my wounds. They gave me a new shirt and brought me a meal and water. Then the two soldiers helped me up, led me upstairs and placed me in a waiting truck. The truck drove to a military airfield, where an American transport jet was waiting for me. Two U.S. Air Force officers greeted me. One said: “Sorry for the misunderstanding, your honor,” then gently helped me aboard the plane. They showed me to a comfortable bed and I laid down for the flight back to the United States.

I recount these details because I believe the American people deserve to know what happened to me. Contrary to all the rumors, I was not tortured. Rather, I was subjected to legitimate investigation calculated to determine whether terrorists planned to kill American children. The Executive Branch of the Federal government has authority to pursue any means necessary to protect Americans from terror, including investigations that may appear harsh. Put simply, when our government has a legitimate purpose—such as protecting children from al-Qaeda—it may pursue any methods necessary to effectuate that purpose. Although I endured some personal discomfort as a result of this investigation, our agents cannot always be perfect. I do not fault them for zealously attempting to root out terror, even in error.

I was not tortured because torture is illegal by treaty. Our government does not act illegally, nor does it ignore its treaty obligations. Under the governing legal standard, “torture” means the “intentional infliction of severe pain for a prohibited purpose.” Applying this definition to my experience, I can say to a legal certainty that I did not suffer torture.

First, I did not suffer “severe” pain. True, the thumbscrew device crushed my right thumb. It inflicted “pain.” But it was bearable pain. Viewed objectively, the pain was not “severe.” I can imagine far worse pain. It also hurt quite a bit when the officer clipped off my right nipple. It also permanently disfigured and degraded me. Again, however, the pain was not “severe.” While no specific case under the treaty has ever addressed nipple-clipping, I am confident that—as a jurist—such mild impositions do not rise to the level of “severe” pain necessary to meet the legal definition.

Second, and more importantly, the agents in this case did not inflict pain on me for a “prohibited purpose.” Cases have held that “prohibited purposes” under the treaty definition include sadism, unlawful information acquisition, revenge and medical experiment. Here, the agents inflicted pain on me in the honest—though mistaken—belief that I conspired to poison children in the D.C. public school system. They were acting to prevent what they reasonably believed to be imminent deadly harm to American children. That is about as legitimate a purpose as you can have. It is certainly not “prohibited” to zealously protect American children. In fact, that purpose justifies everything, including the infliction of “severe pain.” Thus, even if I concluded that the agents in this case inflicted “severe” pain on me, they still would not have committed “torture,” because their purpose was not “prohibited.” To the contrary, it was eminently legitimate.

I am committed to the rule of law. The rule of law in my case clearly indicates that I did not suffer torture. We apply legal definitions as they are written, not as what “we think they mean.” Logic and precedent establish that crushing thumbs and clipping off nipples do not constitute “torture” under the governing legal standard. I therefore reject all the liberal allegations that I wrongfully suffered “torture” while in custody last week. The rule of law suffers when the public irrationally applies “colloquial” understandings to make “legal” conclusions. I refuse to turn my back on the law, even if I endured a personally uncomfortable incident.

Torture is a legal term, not a colloquial one. Under law, I did not suffer torture. In fact, I am proud to live in a society with laws that allow its government to use any methods necessary to protect children from imminent terrorist attack. When our children’s safety is at stake, I think it is entirely reasonable to allow our government to take unrestricted action against the suspected conspirators. Our Constitution is not absolute; after all, our Constitution would be worthless if terrorists could freely attack the population. And what good is government if it cannot protect itself in the most threatening circumstances?

I do not need a right nipple to continue my duties as an Associate Justice of the United States Supreme Court. I am ready to get back to work immediately. And I will continue to hold that no one commits “torture” if they inflict pain to protect children from imminent harm.

WHY WE FEAR DEATH

AN ESSAY

Everyone fears death. The word alone strikes fear in us. It is the worst thing that can befall us. When we die, we are no more. No one can talk to us; no one can hear us tell our stories. We see nothing more. We hear nothing. We taste nothing. We touch nothing. We smell nothing. When we die, we can no longer experience anything. Pain no longer terrifies us. But nor does pleasure beguile us. Death cuts off our ability to experience the earthly world with our senses. And we humans are overwhelmingly sensory creatures. When we die, our bodies cease to be—along with all our senses—leaving our flesh to slowly decompose and turn to dust. No one wants to die. No one wants to leave the world of earthly experience.

Or do they? If we assume that death merely cuts off our ability to experience the earthly world with our senses, then death is not a bad option to someone whose earthly experience is unbearable. Because death and experience intertwine, our attitude toward death should depend on whether our experience in life is largely good or largely bad. Yet very few people consider death with such measured detachment. Death is an intellectual roadblock. It befuddles us because we really do not know much about it, at least metaphysically. No one can tell us “what it is like.” We can only speculate. We cannot plan our response to death because no one can provide us with accurate information about it. Death casts us into uncertainty. Human beings always fear things they cannot know.

Beyond uncertainty, we always think that death deprives us of something. Death makes it impossible for us to see our loved ones again. Death takes away our ability to experience joy and contentment. Even if our lives have little joy, we always hold out hope that one day our fortunes will change. Death, however, robs that hope. It completely precludes us from future joy. No matter how bad our lives may be, if we die, we deny ourselves the possibility of a “dramatic turnaround.” Once we die, it is all over. Again, death terrifies and stultifies us because it drives us into uncertainty about our own decisions. Even if our lives truly will bring us no further joy, we cannot certainly know that at the moment we die.

We also associate death with pain. We live our lives to avoid pain. By avoiding pain, we necessarily try to avoid death. When it comes to pain, our fear increases with the quantum of pain we believe we will face. In other words, we fear serious pain more than minor pain. Similarly, we fear terrible anguish much more than serious pain. We know only what we see, and when we see others die, we typically see them experiencing pain before death. We cannot talk to them after they leave us. We cannot know whether that pain continues after death. Again, uncertainty plays a role in our fears: We associate death with pain, and we cannot certainly know whether death ends that pain. Thus, while it appears that death brings peace to the writhing body, we fear the “undiscover’d country, from whose bourn/ No traveler returns.” Hamlet, Act III, sc. i.

But are our fears about death entirely reasonable? Can we use our reason to stay our fears about death? I think we can, at least to some degree. Let us begin with Hamlet. Hamlet’s speech about death provides an excellent overview of the issues a reasonable man confronts when contemplating death. It also reveals that uncertainty plays a central role in any assessment about death.

Hamlet analogizes life—with all its “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,” “thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to,” “heart-ache,” “whips and scorns of time,” “[oppressors’] wrongs,” “pangs of despised love,” and “the law’s delay,”—to “waking.” “Waking life,” in other words, exposes our senses to bad experiences, from sheer “bad luck” to every imaginable health problem, emotional hardship and degrading personal insult. Against “waking,” however, Hamlet contrasts the “sleep of death:” “To die,--to sleep;--/ To sleep! perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;/ For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,/ When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,/ Must give us pause.” Hamlet agrees that “sleep” metaphorically puts an end to all the evils that can befall us while we are “awake.” But uncertainty about “the dreams” that lurk in that “undiscover’d country” checks his enthusiasm for death. His uncertainty about death forces him to choose life, remarking that “conscience does make cowards of us all,” prompting us to “bear those ills we have rather than fly to others that we know not of.” See generally, Hamlet, Act III, sc. i, lines 56-90.

Hamlet decided against death based on an assumption. He used his reason to understand why he feared death. He allowed his fear to conquer him and he preferred to suffer the “ills we have” in life rather than accept “others we know not of” in death. I argue that his assumption was not entirely correct. While Hamlet understood that human beings are sensory creatures who experience pain, joy, humiliation and the “thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to” while they are awake, he did not grasp that their senses also function while they are asleep. We know from common experience that we are alive while we are asleep. We do not experience as much while we are asleep, but no one will dispute that our senses still function. We can still smell things. We still awake when a bug lands on our foreheads because our nerves transmit the stimulus to our brains. We still feel heat and cold. And we still see things in our sleeping minds, even if our eyes do not register them. Our dreams reflect our senses, even if they are not working at “full speed.” Put simply, we must be alive in order to dream.

But when we die, our senses completely cease to function. They do not function at “half speed,” or even residually. We cannot dream when we are dead. To dream, the body requires living brain tissue, living nerves and a living circulatory system. If we are dead, we do not have these things. In that sense, Hamlet is wrong to fear “dreams in the sleep of death.” Death may look like sleep to the outside observer, but the outside observer possesses his senses. The dead man does not. We cannot speak for the dead man, because we do not know what it is like not to have senses, nor has a dead man ever reported to us what it is like. Hamlet could well argue that we do not certainly know what awaits us when we die, so perhaps we truly can dream without the literal sensory capacity to do so. But this is pure speculation. Applying reason alone, we can say with some certainty that dead people sense nothing, and sensory capability is necessary to dream. Now, this does not completely resolve the question about “what awaits us when we die.” Still, it does provide us a reasonable foundation upon which to temper our fears about death. Hamlet’s reasoning only works if we assume that there is some otherworldly “sleep of death” that completely eludes human sense and inference. That requires some faith and speculation. Reason rejects such entreaties. A reasonable man may still fear death, but he certainly can rule out “dreaming” while he is dead.

So what is death like? And if we cannot dream “bad things” when we are dead, why do we fear it? I think that death is probably very much like dreamless sleep. When we sleep or fall unconscious, our sensory capacity drops to a minimum. Time loses all meaning because our senses convey nothing to us, nor does our brain transmit memories, impressions, emotions or impulses. We are essentially “inert matter” awaiting a sensory recharge. Dreams reflect at least some activity in the brain while we are unconscious. But if we do not dream while we are unconscious, we are truly “out of it.” Nothing frightens us. Nothing moves us. Nothing troubles us; nor does anything please us. All these emotions require functioning senses and living tissue. Sleep temporarily stays the senses and tranquilizes the tissue. Death does this permanently. Dreams may interrupt sleep because the senses and tissue reactivate in a reduced way. But death blocks all sensory function. In that light, we can safely infer that, as a matter of common experience, death and sleep reflect states of unconsciousness. We know what it is like to be unconscious. From a reasonable perspective, then, death only differs from sleep in the sense that we will never come to.

This is what we can reasonably fear: We will not wake up. In fact, this is less fear than bitter disappointment. If we know that we will never wake up from death, we will never get to experience all the good things life can offer us. Our fear stems from the certain knowledge that we will no longer experience anything with our senses. After all, death cuts off our ability to experience the earthly world with our senses. The earthly world can delight our senses as long as we are alive. Death eliminates that possibility. That disappoints us, because we like to delight our senses with earthly stimuli. It gives us joy. When we are asleep, we cannot see our loved ones or go on vacations. Neither can we see our loved ones or go on vacations when we are dead. Nonetheless, who really minds sleeping? People all enjoy peaceful sleep. Perhaps they enjoy it more knowing that their senses will reactivate in the morning. But when they are asleep they are not complaining about anything, especially if they are not dreaming. In a word, sleep—like death—cuts off our ability to experience things, both good and bad. This is not entirely a bad thing.

In past satires, I stressed that we should not fear death because eliminating our ability to experience earthly life with our senses rules out a lot of horrible things. First and foremost, death defeats pain. As mentioned, human beings fear death because they associate it with pain. But pain—like Hamlet’s “whips and scorns” and “the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to”—depends upon functioning senses, nerves and living bodily tissue. When the senses no longer function, pain disappears. Death cuts off the ability to experience everything, including the pain that flows from tortured nerves. Death defeats pain because pain depends on the senses, and death shuts down the senses. We can rightly fear pain if we know we will live to experience it. But we should not think that death is painful, because death precludes our ability to experience anything, including pain. In my view, anything that rules out our human capacity to experience bodily suffering is a good thing. While we might permanently forgo the opportunity to positively stimulate our senses when we die, we also permanently lose our ability to suffer negative sensory stimulation. If our lives are full of pain, worry, anxiety, agony, humiliation and hopelessness, death will deny our bodies the sensory capacity to continue tormenting us. In that sense, death is actually an outcome to be wished, not an end to be feared. Sensory experience is a two-edged sword. It can both delight and torture us. Death denies our ability to experience both. If sensory experience in life tortures us more than it delights us, then why should we fear death?

Reason tells us that death is a neutral event. Applying our senses, we can reasonably infer that death looks like sleep. We can also infer that we must be alive to dream. Thus, we can rule out any suggestion that we dream when we are dead. Continuing this reasoning, we also know that we must be alive—with functioning senses—to experience both positive and negative sensory stimulations, from inexpressible ecstasy all the way down to unimaginable agony. Similarly, we can infer that we can experience neither positive nor negative sensory stimulations when we are dead. We can conclude that death cuts off our ability to experience the earthly world with our senses. If reason is our guide, we are left with only two real reasons to fear death: (1) We permanently forgo the chance to experience positive feelings later in our lives, even if current circumstances are bad; and (2) Something happens after we die that eludes all reasonable explanation.

Ay, there’s the rub. Here we encounter the real problem; here we see the real uncertainty. Unless we truly believe that reason answers all our questions, we can never say with certainty whether anything exists or happens beyond reason. Some people believe we must choose between faith and reason. Personally, I believe in reason to the extent that human sense can answer a particular question. My senses tell me that corpses do not possess any sensory capacity. Medical science confirms that a dead brain has no function. My senses also tell me that the senses do not function without a functioning brain, and functioning senses are necessary to experience the earthly world. But my senses cannot tell me whether something happens to us after death, just as my senses cannot tell me whether God exists, or whether my life was fated to move down a particular path. There are unexplainable things in the world. Sense cannot grasp them. We fear them precisely because we cannot know them. Still, I am prepared to trust reason on all questions in which it provides a valid way to answer them. From an abstract perspective, that helps me cope with death.

But we can reasonably fear death if we posit that reason does not give us the whole picture about life. How can we know whether there is a state of consciousness beyond the senses? No living person has ever told us about it. When we die, perhaps we enter some hitherto unknown dimension in which our understanding about experience and sense no longer apply. I don’t know. I just don’t know. Nonetheless, now I am speculating. On this point, I take comfort. When it comes to pure reason, I can prepare myself for death. It is mere sensory shutdown. When it comes to faith, however, I am as lost as everyone else. If there is existence beyond sense and experience, I cannot comment about it. All I can say is that I do not know about it.