That's hitting unsettlingly close to home when he picks up his pocketwatch (presumably after he's back from the haunted house, and sitting behind the counter of the flower shop playing with plants) and sees the random message waiting for him...]
I believe it's possible for someone to be more than their nature, without losing that nature entirely. For their nature to become just one part in their overall gestalt, as it were.
But to purge that nature. You believe it's impossible?
[Some feverish part of him refuses to believe this, logical and rational as it sounds. Some feverish part of him that sees the world only in black and white with no shades of gray believes that the ugliness must be gone entirely for someone to be better.]
[But if that were the case, he wouldn't be Dio's child at all, would he.]
Did you know that the original meaning of "gestalt" is "other", not "more"? Thus not greater than the sum of the parts--other than the sum of the parts. Not inherently positive. That says something about human nature, I think, that it's been so willfully mistranslated over the years. Although perhaps that looks different from the outside in.
I'm not sure why you would want to purge it in the first place, impossible or not. It seems an extreme way to live a life — cutting away and leaving behind all the things one isn't happy with.
[Still, after a pause, more follows.]
It IS a demon's way of looking at the world, though, I'll admit. For the sake of being strong, demons will seek to purge themselves of weaknesses. There's very little room for affection and attachment among them, for that reason; sentiment breeds weakness, and weakness is something that cannot be tolerated, lest it be exploited instead.
What in particular do you think it says about human nature? The change in translations.
Pruning. Or breeding. It's a sound enough practice that humans use it on species they deem to be less than themselves, for whatever reason. Demons aren't the only ones who believe in this, either. Frightened humans do, too. Best to be strong and impermeable.
It says that human beings want desperately to be better than they truly believe they are. To be capable of betterment. Sentience breeds self-loathing, which breeds failure.
Some human beings are better than they truly believe that they are. I know that's not your point, but speaking as something of an outsider looking in, it's a phenomenon I can confirm I've witnessed personally before.
So correct me if I'm wrong, but as to your original question: we're dealing with a hypothetical human being, rife with self-loathing but probably frightened, who is convinced his basic nature is flawed and wishes he could transcend it, yet deeply and truly believes that such a thing is impossible.
Then no, I don't believe that his basic nature can be changed. I think that's rather the point of defining something as a basic nature to begin with — the term itself is designed to describe something fundamental, foundational, and unchangeable.
However, I might argue with that hypothetical person as to whether or not he's correct about his basic nature being inherently flawed. Flaws are subjective. Context matters a great deal — a trait that's a flaw in one situation might be a great asset in another.
What if the situation doesn't change? If the basic nature doesn't change, and the situation doesn't change, then the basic nature which is a flaw in the initial situation remains a flaw.
At the risk of sidestepping out of our hypothetical for a moment, I'm personally quite familiar with that sort of frustration. There are some aspects about humankind that even now are...difficult, for me to reconcile with as a demon.
May I ask for an example of the sort of flaw we're dealing with?
I have difficulties in accessing empathy; I'm comfortable in confessing to that.
Here's a question for you in return, then. Suppose we take a hypothetical man with that particular difficulty. He becomes aware of his difficulty, and considers it a flaw. Because it is fundamental to his nature, it's not something he can excise or prune away.
However, his awareness of his flaw at least allows him to engage in behaviors that mitigate it. He studies empathetic people and learns empathetic reactions to situations where his nature might guide him otherwise.
Consciously, he models empathy for the sake of others, regardless of whether he manages to breed it as an aspect of himself.
The question is, as far as the people around him are concerned, is there a difference between modeling the behavior of empathy and being empathetic?
[This he answers without hesitation. Then, a moment later:]
Not if he models it well and thoroughly. Someone who only models empathy up to a point and then makes the choice not to at a point when a loved one's life is in danger is
If he models it well and thoroughly, there is no difference. I don't think so.
So, someone who models empathy out of a desire to be empathetic, rather than someone who models empathy until it's not beneficial to do so anymore.
But I agree with you. To the outside observer, there's no practical difference, because regardless of where the motivating factor stems from, the behavior is the same.
So to someone committed to a course of action of that sort, the detriments of the flaw lie only with how he perceives himself.
I also think there's a human saying that's somewhat pertinent: "Fake it 'til you make it", isn't it?
...
To go back to your original question, I'm not sure how I feel about the thought that there may be a flaw so egregious that it's worth sacrificing part of your fundamental self for the sake of trying to do away with it.
Is it right for someone to live an existence of shame for what they are? I'm not sure about that. I've seen it before, though — the self-loathing, and the subsequent arrogance that arises out of trying to transcend that loathing.
[He wonders if he has, too. In the mirror, maybe, over a year ago now--after he passed Polpo's test, before he met Mista and Fugo and Narancia and Abbacchio. Back when he was teetering on the edge, strong enough that he didn't feel in danger all the time, ambitious enough to be a danger himself.]
The flaw in the argument is the concept of good and evil, I think. The premise itself is flawed. But so is the world; people live their lives on the assumption that someone is judging them worthy or unworthy, whether that someone is their fellow person or something otherworldly.
I have a friend, a fellow demon, who I believe would threaten to eviscerate me if he knew I was mentioning him as an example of it. But yes. He was born an outcast, abandoned by his mother, shunned from his home, and eventually became a criminal, which is how I met him.
I believe his method of dealing with that feeling is to kill anyone he feels might be making the fatal mistake of judging him in the first place.
He has a twin sister he cares for dearly — more than he's willing to admit even to himself, to be frank — and for whose sake he has endured unimaginable suffering so as to better protect her.
She's unaware that he is her twin brother (they're fraternal, of course, and look very little alike), and he refuses to tell her because he assumes no one would care for the revelation that they are in fact related to someone like him.
He's very much a typical demon in that he delights in power and strength. For that reason, the life of a criminal suits him well — I should say, a criminal by the standards of Spirit World. The standards for it among demons are somewhat more complex, thanks to our differing value systems.
I would say that he feels satisfaction far more than he feels genuine happiness. He has a sense of humor, of sorts. He absolutely has an honor code, though it's well-disguised, and not at all a typical one.
And there is his sister. Someone threatened her well-being recently, and he was prepared to kill that someone for the transgression. She begged him not to, and I saw the smile he gave her. I can't imagine a smile like that coming from anything but genuine happiness.
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no subject
That's hitting unsettlingly close to home when he picks up his pocketwatch (presumably after he's back from the haunted house, and sitting behind the counter of the flower shop playing with plants) and sees the random message waiting for him...]
I believe it's possible for someone to be more than their nature, without losing that nature entirely. For their nature to become just one part in their overall gestalt, as it were.
no subject
[Some feverish part of him refuses to believe this, logical and rational as it sounds. Some feverish part of him that sees the world only in black and white with no shades of gray believes that the ugliness must be gone entirely for someone to be better.]
[But if that were the case, he wouldn't be Dio's child at all, would he.]
Did you know that the original meaning of "gestalt" is "other", not "more"? Thus not greater than the sum of the parts--other than the sum of the parts. Not inherently positive. That says something about human nature, I think, that it's been so willfully mistranslated over the years. Although perhaps that looks different from the outside in.
no subject
[Still, after a pause, more follows.]
It IS a demon's way of looking at the world, though, I'll admit. For the sake of being strong, demons will seek to purge themselves of weaknesses. There's very little room for affection and attachment among them, for that reason; sentiment breeds weakness, and weakness is something that cannot be tolerated, lest it be exploited instead.
What in particular do you think it says about human nature? The change in translations.
no subject
It says that human beings want desperately to be better than they truly believe they are. To be capable of betterment. Sentience breeds self-loathing, which breeds failure.
no subject
So correct me if I'm wrong, but as to your original question: we're dealing with a hypothetical human being, rife with self-loathing but probably frightened, who is convinced his basic nature is flawed and wishes he could transcend it, yet deeply and truly believes that such a thing is impossible.
Is that right so far?
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You're precisely correct.
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However, I might argue with that hypothetical person as to whether or not he's correct about his basic nature being inherently flawed. Flaws are subjective. Context matters a great deal — a trait that's a flaw in one situation might be a great asset in another.
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What if the situation doesn't change? If the basic nature doesn't change, and the situation doesn't change, then the basic nature which is a flaw in the initial situation remains a flaw.
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May I ask for an example of the sort of flaw we're dealing with?
no subject
A lack of empathy would be a solid start. Or a difficult in accessing empathy, more accurately.
no subject
Here's a question for you in return, then. Suppose we take a hypothetical man with that particular difficulty. He becomes aware of his difficulty, and considers it a flaw. Because it is fundamental to his nature, it's not something he can excise or prune away.
However, his awareness of his flaw at least allows him to engage in behaviors that mitigate it. He studies empathetic people and learns empathetic reactions to situations where his nature might guide him otherwise.
Consciously, he models empathy for the sake of others, regardless of whether he manages to breed it as an aspect of himself.
The question is, as far as the people around him are concerned, is there a difference between modeling the behavior of empathy and being empathetic?
no subject
[This he answers without hesitation. Then, a moment later:]
Not if he models it well and thoroughly. Someone who only models empathy up to a point and then makes the choice not to at a point when a loved one's life is in danger is
If he models it well and thoroughly, there is no difference. I don't think so.
no subject
But I agree with you. To the outside observer, there's no practical difference, because regardless of where the motivating factor stems from, the behavior is the same.
So to someone committed to a course of action of that sort, the detriments of the flaw lie only with how he perceives himself.
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Except in the privacy of one's own head, of course.
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...
To go back to your original question, I'm not sure how I feel about the thought that there may be a flaw so egregious that it's worth sacrificing part of your fundamental self for the sake of trying to do away with it.
Is it right for someone to live an existence of shame for what they are? I'm not sure about that. I've seen it before, though — the self-loathing, and the subsequent arrogance that arises out of trying to transcend that loathing.
no subject
[He wonders if he has, too. In the mirror, maybe, over a year ago now--after he passed Polpo's test, before he met Mista and Fugo and Narancia and Abbacchio. Back when he was teetering on the edge, strong enough that he didn't feel in danger all the time, ambitious enough to be a danger himself.]
The flaw in the argument is the concept of good and evil, I think. The premise itself is flawed. But so is the world; people live their lives on the assumption that someone is judging them worthy or unworthy, whether that someone is their fellow person or something otherworldly.
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I believe his method of dealing with that feeling is to kill anyone he feels might be making the fatal mistake of judging him in the first place.
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I mean.
Sorry. That's just uncanny. The similarity.
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She's unaware that he is her twin brother (they're fraternal, of course, and look very little alike), and he refuses to tell her because he assumes no one would care for the revelation that they are in fact related to someone like him.
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All I can think when I hear that is: he sounds like a good person.
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I have no intention of asking who you drew a similarity to just now; it's frankly none of my business. But you're welcome to tell me if you so choose.
Either way, I don't mind the thought that there are more people like him out there somewhere.
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Is he happy? Your friend. Not all the time, or even most of the time, but sometimes. More than never.
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He's very much a typical demon in that he delights in power and strength. For that reason, the life of a criminal suits him well — I should say, a criminal by the standards of Spirit World. The standards for it among demons are somewhat more complex, thanks to our differing value systems.
I would say that he feels satisfaction far more than he feels genuine happiness. He has a sense of humor, of sorts. He absolutely has an honor code, though it's well-disguised, and not at all a typical one.
And there is his sister. Someone threatened her well-being recently, and he was prepared to kill that someone for the transgression. She begged him not to, and I saw the smile he gave her. I can't imagine a smile like that coming from anything but genuine happiness.