The Pointlessness Paradox
Trying to find the point of life is pointless, but that's not necessarily a bad thing
(Picture from The Daily Mash)
If you struggled to get out bed this morning you’re not alone. And I don’t mean because of a legitimate issue like being 85 and falling over your catheter. I’m talking about the far more common struggle of finding a reason to get up. What’s the point, you might ask yourself. What’s the point of going to work? Money? What do you want that for? To spend on bills and food so you can keep on living? That’s a process undoubtedly set to age you, and before you know it you’re 85 and falling over your catheter.
It’s a conversation you’re bound to have with someone at some point, usually late at night when tiredness has got the better of you and you turn into an over-emotional, babbling idiot. 'What’s the point?' inevitably transforms into the more profound question, 'why are we here?' and for about half an hour you become the world’s greatest philosopher. The depressingly realistic answer that most sane people come to is: ‘There is no point. Life is meaningless and everything dies.’ Others don’t lose as much sleep – they know they’re going to a bright fluffy place where everyone wears Daz-white clothing and Sunny D tastes the way it used to. You on the other hand, are going to burn in a fiery pit for all eternity while being forced to watch repeats of University Challenge.
You can’t be blamed for coming to such a morose conclusion. Science practically forces you to. Facts and figures make it impossible to ignore – we were all once an amoeba that turned into a fish that turned into a blah di blah, and eventually the sun will consume the Earth, wiping out all trace of absolutely everything. So, what’s the point indeed.
There are some positives to take from this however. When Earth becomes an apocalyptic, burning wasteland and our entire history is irrelevant, the likes of Einstein, Shakespeare and even Jesus Christ will be no more important than you. Not only are you both dust, there will be no documentation to prove you ever existed, nor will any conscious entity be around to debate it. We will all be just as pointless as each other, or just as important (if you want to look at it that way). Isn’t that nice?
This is where we get a sort of pointlessness paradox. A planet of people, constantly thinking how pointless life is, realising that everyone is equally pointless and therefore our thoughts about being pointless are pointless. Pointless.
Of course while we’re still here, being called pointless just isn’t going to wash with us. So we sit up late at night, thinking about the same question in exactly the same way all over again. But the truth is we can’t afford to find out. It could be potentially catastrophic. What if the point of life was to own as many ironing boards as possible? On that basis I’d be failing miserably.
We need pointlessness. Pointlessness inadvertently makes us live. Or maybe it’s not inadvertent – maybe a deity has given us this complex on purpose. Oh God, here we go again.
Chris Edwards Cynical CME
P.S. I used to believe in God when I was about 13. I was totally sold by Socrates and the Teleological argument, which argued a creator's existence through intelligent design. Then I saw a Blobfish.
