Jay Fox - THE WALLS

“Such a proposition is absurd — a self-contradictory statement. Beyond asserting that the non-true can possibly be true, and that the true can possibly be not-true, it allows all things to be possible not only in the future, but in the present, as well. This cannot be the case. Possibility is not a concern of the present. The future is the realm of possibility, potentiality: What will be, what will not be. The past is what was. The present is what is. These are definitions.”

“I understand this.”

“What is cannot both be and not-be. The present is determined by its composites, and its composites are; they do not reside in the realm of memory, potentiality, or negation.”

We continue walking, the sun static in the sky and the fragrance of grass and car exhaust mingling together in the doldrums of the evening.

“If everything is permissible, does nothing fall into this realm, this realm of permissibility?”

“I don't understand you.”

“What do you not understand?”

“How can nothing be something?”

“That is my question to you.”

“Wouldn't that negate the rest of the statement? If nothing is accepted, then everything is negated; and yet nothing is part of everything. You speak in paradoxes.”

“No, I am just introducing a proposition that you must rethink in order to understand.”

“Is this your way of telling me that nothing is permissible?”

“Possibly.”

“…”

“You clearly do not understand the gravity of these statements. You are like a judge unfamiliar with the law. Set aside your gavel. Become but a witness. You will learn far more, thereby making you less ignorant. I believe we will both agree that being less ignorant is a positive thing, correct?”

“Yes.”

“You are not a judge. Recognize your ignorance so that you may come to accept it. Accept it so that you may work to overcome it. Work to overcome it because being less ignorant is a positive thing.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you are ignorant.”

“I understand that.”

“This is a baby step towards a big-boy step.”

We continue walking, upon a sidewalk lined with brittle-leafed trees that rustle like paper, among faceless day-laborers and their kids, unicyclists, new couples proudly taking the walk of shame hand in hand, people I think I recognize but have never met. A park expands in either direction, in all directions. It is a park, too. While I may not be able to see its limits, I know that it is confined, that a fence has been thrown up somewhere, and that this environment is somehow bereft of the variables of urban life. And yet it is not the superficiality of suburbia. Its fecund verdancy has been prepared; it has been planned, but it has not been subjected to anything more imperious than a few green thumbs.

“How does a judge come to be a judge?” he asks.

“I don't know.”

“How does he establish himself to be a capable judge? Does he simply pass a test with a series of essays and, perhaps, a multiple choice section?”

“No.”

“Does he demonstrate his abilities? Is judgment demonstrative?”

“Yes.”

“To whom must man demonstrate his judgment?”

“People.”

“His peers?”

“Yes.”

“And what does his judgment represent?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is not his judgment founded upon something?”

“I guess.”

“What does a judge's judgment reflect? Surely his knowledge must be more arcane than simple phronesis. It must be knowledge of something.”

“The law?”

“Is that all?”

“…”

“What is the law supposed to represent?”

“I don't know.”

“Justice, perhaps?”

“…”

“Would I be correct in asserting that a judge must know the law? Would I present a fallacy if I were to state that a judge can only operate within the framework of law?”

“No.”

“If there is a law, then must there be a judge to affirm or deny that the subjects of this law have acted in accordance with or trespassed against it?”

“It would seem so.”

“So a judge is sufficient for law. Now, a law cannot be said to be a law if it is impossible for one to transcend it. On the other hand, a law cannot be said to be a law if it is universally observed without penalty. These postulates are entailed by the definition of law, correct?”

“Law entails freedom, in other words.”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. But here is the more important question: Is it possible for there to be a judge without law?”

“No.”

“So the two, judge and law, are linked biconditionally: One is sufficient for the other.”

“This seems to be so.”

“But if everything or nothing is permissible, can one say there is a series of laws, let alone one? Isn't it the case that a law is a restriction on the permissibility of an action? Isn't it the case that a system of laws is a series of restrictions on the permissibility of actions?

“If there is a Law, then nothing or everything is no longer permissible.”

“So there is no Law.”

“And there are no judges.”

“There is no Judge.”

“If nothing or everything is permissible.”

“…”

“Do you understand the gravity of this statement?”

“I believe I do.”

We continue walking.

“God's Grace is meant to deliver reason to faith,” he says after a while. “Yet we agree that there can be no Grace if the gavel rests silently upon the bench. And if there can be no Grace, then there certainly cannot be a God of justice. How do we confront this situation? It seems as though we are left only with the options of acquiescing to faith we know to be based upon an incomprehensible and bizarre Justice, or proclaiming all or nothing — either we are not subject to Law because it is impossible to transcend it or there is no Law to transcend. In all of these cases, we are left with an absurd conclusion, but the latter two cases concern me the most. You do know why that is, correct?”

“Because either nothing is permissible or everything is permissible.”

“A parrot is a wonderful pet, but a very poor pupil.” He is silent for a moment. “Do you believe nothing to be permissible or do you believe everything to be permissible?”

“Everything.”

“Does this not leave man alone in the universe?”

“Alone but for his peers.”

“Can this absence of transcendence admit a reason for existence?”

“I don't see how it can.”

“Is there a reason for man's solitude or his life if existence itself has no meaning?”

“No.”

“Do you consider a man to be a rebel if the antagonist against whom he rebels does not exist?”

“No.”

“Is there a point to rebelling if this rebellion is against nothing?”

“No.”

“So a man who has not only cast doubt in, but has rejected the authority of Law on the grounds that it does not exist — what does he have left?”

“Nothing.”

“And yet he remains. What, then, does this man have?”

“He has his life.”

“What is he to do with it? Mankind has always presumed existence to be linked with purpose. And yet this seems to be a fallacy. For what is he to strive?”

“I don't know.”

”Should he maintain his integrity?”

“Why bother if nothing has meaning?”

“So suicide, homicide, genocide…all of these are permissible?”

“Yes.”

“Should they be permissible?”

“If one cannot think of 'ought's, how can one speak of 'should's?”

“By what, then, can man abide?”

“I don't know.”

“Do you recognize the similarity between the words 'suffer' and 'suffrage'?”