Sobre el sentido de la vida: un existencialismo contemporáneo.

Mis próximas líneas serán bastante breves, dadas a una ocasional --sin duda a culpar al verano-- sequía de ideas y general distracción, y ellas están dedicadas a una pregunta en apariencia muy general y absurda, quizás para muchos bastante recurrida, pero que ha ocupado mis pensamientos y mucha de mi energía de introspección desde hace aproximadamente dos meses en las que me ví confrontado con la muerte. Y esa es, ¿cuál es el sentido de la vida?

Hace no mucho tiempo leía fragmentos del libro The Ancestor's Tale. A pilgrimage to the Dawn of Life del naturalista británico Richard Dawkins, dicho sea de paso, un ateo convencido. En este libro, que es básicamente un libro de biología contado en un formato casi literario, Dawkins aborda la biografía del presente hacia el pasado de distintas especies animales, incluido el ser humano. Una pregunta central de la investigación biológica ha sido, más que el del origen de las especies (tratado por primera vez por Charles Darwin, padre de la teoría de la evolución), el origen de la vida en la Tierra. Mientras las religiones han dado este hecho un explicación a su propio estilo, la biología ha concluido que se trata de una casualidad que grupo de moléculas se transformara en aminoácidos (Watson y Crick) que daría origen a materia viviente, que respira, se alimenta, se reproduce y muere, entendida esta muerte en leyes de la física solo como una transformación de la materia y el principio de que nada se crea ni se destruye, sino que solo se transforma. 

Mientras tanto, ha sido larguísimo el viaje entre aquel primigenio instante hasta el día de hoy. Y, en ese trayecto vital, en un momento hace aproximadamente 10,000 años, tuvo lugar la transición que dio origen a los seres humanos modernos: momento que Stanley Kubrick, en las primeras escenas de Space Oddissey, representa en un homínido que utiliza un hueso como herramienta y endereza su torso por primera vez.

Visto dentro de la larga cartografía de la evolución, la Humanidad es una especie extremadamente joven. No hace mucho apenas nos encontrábamos trazando dibujos en cavernas, aprendiendo a utilizar las primeras herramientas, y migrando de un sitio a otro hasta poblar el planeta entero. ¿Pero qué diferencia hay entre los seres humanos y el resto de los seres vivos? Probablemente la diferencia fundamental está en la conciencia de la muerte: es decir, la certeza absoluta de que la vida tiene un final. Y creo que la lucha contra la muerte, o, dicho de una forma menos bélica, la permanente tensión contra esta, es lo que ha dado origen a la civilización. ¿Qué no es, pues, el origen de la caza y la recolección mas que el impulso de alimentarse para mantenerse con vida?, ¿qué no es la creación del fuego la lucha contra el frío?, ¿qué no son las ciudades el horror hacia la naturaleza y sus depredadores, en las que las civilizaciones encontraron acogida contra los elementos que, aún así, tarde o temprano encuentran su camino para destruirlas?, ¿qué no es la lucha contra la muerte y la explicación de esta el motor de la medicina y la religión? La civilización y la cultura son las herramientas que surgen de esa permanente lucha entre la vida y su final: entre continuar más allá de este plano o desaparecer de la memoria de los que se quedan. Los monumentos fúnebres, de diversos calibres, que han construido las culturas desde sus etapas más primitivas, son la prueba más grande de nuestro deseo por permanecer. 

La historia universal, y en particular la occidental, está sembrada de momentos críticos de una confrontación colectiva con la muerte. Desde la peste bubónica en el siglo XIV, la desaparición masiva de pueblos nativos en la América descubierta, hasta las dos guerras mundiales y la posterior sombra de la bomba atómica, siendo su eco más reciente la catástrofe nuclear en Fukushima en 2011. Los existencialistas ateos, entre cuyos representantes más famosos se encuentra Jean Paul Sartre y Albert Camus, dieron por hecho que tras la muerte había más que la nada absoluta y la única forma de enfrentar dicha conciencia era a través de la angustia o de la indiferencia total. (Recuerdo aquí al Mersault de El extranjero, de Camus). Dicha angustia no está, a mi juicio, mejor representada en ningún lado que en aquel oscuro diálogo entre Raskolnikow y Sonia Marmeladow en Crimen y castigo, donde aquel reprocha a ésta la inexistencia de dios. Los existencialistas ateos dejaron dicho que la existencia es absurda y que esta no tiene ningún sentido mas que la constante marcha de la vida hacia el momento final. 

En nuestro siglo XXI, en el que el tiempo parece moverse estrepitosamente, parece que la respuesta a la pregunta sobre al sentido de la vida tiene muchas respuestas: unos lo encuentran en el consumismo, en gastar dinero como una especie de ansiedad por permanecer a través de los objetos, que se transforman en fetiche (recomiendo aquí el volumento The Social Life of Things, 1988, editado Arjun Appadurai); otros encuentran el sentido a sus vidas en una permanente mucha por encontrarle su sentido más puro y original (p. ej. hay que pensar en los movimientos veganos y vegetarianos, éstos, por cierto, muy antiguos ya y de larga tradición en Alemania, o todo el movimiento hipster que no es más que una combinación de consumismo y nostalgia por un pasado mejor para proyectar a un presente hipertecnologizado). Otro ramo lo encuentro en las personas que buscan aventuras y sensaciones fuera de medición aventureros, deportistas extremos, gente que va caminando de Noruega hasta Ciudad del Cabo, en motocicleta desde Alaska hasta Tierra del Fuego, etc. etc. La respuesta al sentido de la vida es totalmente individual. Báisicamente la respuesta que yo he encontrado para mí mismo, está en que el sentido de la vida no es más que:

- el interminable espectro de las emociones humanas

- la excitación y aburrimiento

- las estaciones del año (sean cuatro, sean dos, sea solo una)

- el universo de los sentidos (olfato, gusto, tacto, oído)

- el bosque y los campos

- el tráfico y el asfalto 

- los elementos básicos (agua, viento, fuego y tierra)

- el arte y el lenguaje

- sueños y pesadillas

- la propia profesión

- las posibilidades del cuerpo y las distintas etapas en el desarrollo de este (el placer, el dolor, el flujo de adrenalina)

- nuestra interacción con otros seres vivos (o los seres inanimados a los que damos importancia como, por ejemplo, el ordenador en el que ahora redacto esta entrada)

El sentido de la existencia está, para mí, simplemente en la aguda percepción del mundo: en la percepción del tiempo y la observación cuidadosa de la época en que me ha sido dado existir, haya sido por una intervención suprema o una simple casualidad biológica de las leyes del Universo. Y también está, sin duda, en la conciencia de la muerte y la conciencia de ésta como motor de la propia vida.

Cologne

27.7.14

Herr B.

The autistic spectrum in literature

In this week's guest entry, Bettina Burger takes a look at how people on the autistic spectrum are portrayed in literature:

Characters on the autistic spectrum are becoming more and more popular in TV shows and novels. Autism is a condition which is marked by a so-called triad of impairments: impairment of social relationships, impairment of social communication and impairment of social imagination (cf. Aarons 1992: 5). It is important to note that autism exists “on a continuum from the severely impaired at the lower end into the normal range of human variation at the upper” (Bottomer 2007: 26) with Asperger’s syndrome at the upper end of the spectrum. Non-neurotypical characters on the spectrum can provide an unusual point of view to readers and viewers, who might hope to gain an insight into a mind foreign to their own. However, as with all fiction, their characteristics are often adapted in order to be more appealing. For example, characters on the autistic spectrum are often portrayed as socially awkward, but in some way attractive to the audience. The most widely used element of this literary trope is certainly the autistic savant – usually a highly intelligent loner who does not cope well in social situations. Perhaps the most famous example of this kind of autistic or pseudo-autistic character is Sherlock Holmes from BBC’s widely acclaimed Sherlock. In the show itself, his autistic traits are acknowledged when Inspector Lestrade says that Sherlock “likes having the same faces back together. It appeals to his... his...” and John responds with the suggestion “Asperger’s?” (Dir. Paul McGuigan, The Hounds of Baskerville). Sherlock does exhibit certain aspects of the autistic spectrum such as a lack of social skills and an occasional failure to comprehend sarcasm. Most of the linguistic aspects of the autistic spectrum, however, are left out, and thus, Sherlock’s diagnosis – always problematic with fictional characters – is certainly not straightforward.

     Let us now look closer at some of the linguistic features that characterise autistic people and how these are portrayed in popular literature. In this case, I am going to focus on Mark Haddon’s The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time (2003), Jodi Picoult’s House Rules (2010) and Siobhan Dowd’s London Eye Mystery (2010). Of course, it has to be said that none of these novels depict every possible particularity of autistic speech, which is just as well: not every individual on the autistic spectrum displays every single language particularity that can be part of an autistic speech pattern (Büttner 1995: 40). Most language particularities can be classified as belonging to the categories of formulaic speech, so-called ‘irrelevant’ language, and certain deficiencies in the pragmatic use of language. Since formulaic speech tends to be the most widely depicted feature of autistic speech in literature, I am going to focus on this aspect.

Formulaic Speech is a description used for several aspects of autistic language, such as a tendency towards repetition and echolalia, problems with deictic terms and extremely literal language use (cf. Walenski 2006: 183). Echolalia is the exact repetition of other people’s words or sentences, which can be relevant and thus used for communication (cf. Weber 1980: 24), even though it is difficult to interpret. There is immediate echolalia, which means that words are repeated immediately, as well as delayed echolalia, which can happen days or even weeks after the words are first heard by the autistic person (cf. Büttner 1995: 41). Echolalia is often most prominent in moments of distress, so it could be concluded that echolalia is used by autistic people to structure their world and make it more predictable (cf. Büttner 1995: 47), thus adhering to their need for structure and repetition.

Interestingly, echolalia seems to be the most frequently used device to denote autism in the three novels, albeit to different degrees. Christopher, Haddon’s main character, shows mostly subject echolalia by frequently talking about science and mathematics. There is very little linguistic echolalia present in the novel, which can probably be explained by the main character’s relative proficiency in language use. The only incident of delayed echolalia is when Christopher tells his age, once after he is asked by a policeman (cf. Haddon 2003: 7) and once when he tries to chat with one of his neighbours using almost the same words and degree of information “My age is 15 years and 3 months and 3 days” (Haddon 2003: 51). Picoult’s protagonist, Jacob, uses delayed echolalia much more frequently, especially “when he cannot find the words for how he feels [and] borrows someone else’s” (Picoult 2010: 6). When in jail, he says “Kid, the next time I say ‘Let’s go someplace like Bolivia’” (Picoult 2010: 269), which refers to a film called Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, who, instead of going to prison, jumped off a cliff. When asked why “he’d done it”, he answers with a quote from Love Story, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry” (Picoult 2010: 388). All instances of delayed echolalia consist of movie quotes and can be interpreted as being relevant to the actual situation and thus a valid attempt to communicate. Dowd’s Ted also shows several instances of echolalia. He repeats his mother’s “Off the rails” shortly after she complained that Ted’s sister is “going off the rails” (Dowd 2010: 8). When his sister suggests that they should be lying to their parents, Ted says “’Lie,’ I repeated.” (Dowd 2010: 60) His echolalia here could be caused by the fact that he is distressed about lying as he is usually unable to do so.

Another frequent characteristic of autistic formulaic speech is the literal understanding of language (cf. Weber 1980: 87), since most autistic people seem to be unable to understand metaphors, idioms, lies or jokes. There seems to be strong evidence that autistic people struggle with using those strategies of non-literal language as well as with understanding them. Honesty is one of the most prominent features of people with autistic spectrum disorders, which might make their language seem inappropriate (Büttner 1995: 106), as they can only rarely resort to diplomacy or white lies.

This element of autistic speech comes up in all three novels since each protagonist has difficulty understanding metaphors and similes. Christopher, for example, states that he cannot tell jokes because he does not understand them (Haddon 2003: 10) as they sometimes depend on making one word “mean three different things at the same time” (Haddon 2003: 10), which is very hard for him to grasp. Just like Christopher, Jacob also understands most utterances literally. His first scene shows him after having arranged a crime scene for his mother to solve. The murder case he invented involved him being beaten to death by a clock – a result of Jacob’s misunderstanding of the word “clocked” (Picoult 2010: 5), which he heard on his favourite television series, CrimeBusters, and which actually means ‘to be punched by someone’. Ted also has problems with metaphors and even similes. Whereas his sister Kat says that London looks like a toy town, he thinks “London looks like London” (Dowd 2010: 1). Nor does he understand when his mother says that his sister is “off the rails” (Dowd 2010: 9) to indicate that Kat is not behaving as she should, and is “thinking of train accidents” (Dowd 2010: 9) at first because that is what he connects in his literal understanding with the expression “off the rails”. As already mentioned, he is also usually incapable of lying.

Of course, other elements of autistic language, such as irregularities with loudness and intonation and certain pragmatic difficulties, can be found in literary depictions of autistic characters as well. Perhaps the most interesting peculiarity is the so-called ‘irrelevant language’. This contains highly symbolic and metaphorical language (cf. Brown 2010: 28) and has to do with ‘associational’ thinking common to people with autistic spectrum disorders (Brown 2010: 28). It might be surprising that people on the autistic spectrum can and do employ metaphors in their own speech even though they have such difficulty understanding them from others. However, their metaphors are highly personal and unconnected to social conventions, which can make them hard to interpret (Büttner 1995: 90). Interpretation, however, is possible and often rewarding. Consequently, there are several writers on the spectrum who produce remarkable poetry, such as Emily Dickinson, who is thought to have been affected by Asperger’s Syndrome (Brown 2010: 30). I can only encourage you to keep reading books about and by individuals on the autistic spectrum, since they are deeply rewarding both on a linguistic and a literary level.

Bibliography

• Aarons, Maureen; Gittens, Tessa. The Handbook of Autism. 2^nd Edition. A guide for parents and professionals. London: Routledge, 1992.
• Bottomer, Phyllis Ferguson. So Odd a Mixture. Along the Autistic Spectrum in ‘Pride and Prejudice’. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers, 2007.

• Brown, Julie. Writers on the Spectrum. How Autism and Asperger Syndrome have Influenced Literary Writing. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers, 2010.
• Büttner, Claudia. Kölner Linguistische Arbeiten – Germanistik. Autistische Sprachstörungen. Hürth: Gabel Verlag, 1995.
• Dowd, Siobhan. The London Eye Mystery. Oxford: David Fickling Books, 2010.
• Haddon, Mark. The Curious Incident of the Dog during the Night-Time. London: Vintage, 2003.
• Sherlock 2.2. The Hounds of Baskerville. Dir. Paul McGuigan. Perf. Benedict Cumberbatch, Martin Freeman. 2010. DVD. BBC, 2011.
• Picoult, Jodi. House Rules. New York: Atria International, 2010.
• Rees, Norma S. „Aspects of Deixis in the Language of Children with Autism and Related Childhood Psychoses.” Language and Cognition. Essays in Honor of Arhur J. Bronstein. Ed. Lawrence J. and Carolyn B Raphael; Miriam R. Valdovinos. New York: Plenum Press, 1984.
• Walenski, Matthew; Tager-Flusberg, Helen: Ullman, Michael T. „Language in Autism.“ Understanding Autism: From Basic Neuroscience to Treatment. Ed. Steven O. Moldin, John L.R. Rubenstein. Boca Raton: Taylor and Francis Group, 2006. 175 – 203.
• Weber, Stefan. Aspects of the Language of Autistic Children: a study in linguistic pragmatics. Zürich: Zug und Zürich, 1980.