Lost and Philosophy: Parts 1-2

Lost and Philosophy: Parts 1-2 June 12, 2009

I’ve been reading Lost and Philosophy: The Island Has Its Reasons, edited by Sharon M. Kaye (Malden: Blackwell, 2008). It helps ease the pain of no LOST until 2010.

The book has four main sections, organized around the letters LOST.

Part I is called “L is for Love”, a heading that does not correspond in any obvious sort of way to a unifying thread running through the section (this section is primarily about ethics, which doesn’t fit easily into the LOST anagram). The first chapter in Part I, by Michael Austin, focuses on the question of what, if anything, adult children owe to their parents. Austin uses characters from the show to illustrate important aspects of the question, and for the most part Lost simply provides the “case studies” for an introductory treatment of this topic. There is, however, a particularly insightful moment, when the island itself is recognized as becoming a surrogate father to Locke (p.16), as he struggles to please and to know it. In chapter 2, Rebecca Vartabedian offers a similarly introductory treatment of key ethical theories, using Walt’s actions aimed at saving Walt to illustrate how each theory might view things. Chapter 3 is co-authored by Robert Arp and Patricia Brace, and focuses on the objectification of human beings, using the show to illustrate Kantian and utilitarian perspectives. Chapter 4, by Deborah Barnbaum, uses what she understands about the Dharma Initiative to ask important questions about research ethics and matters such as informed consent. Unfortunately, like several other contributors, she seems to have written without having seen the finale of season 3, and she thus has as a working assumption that the Dharma Initiative is conducting tests on unwilling subjects who are made to do irrational things like “enter a meaningless sequence of numbers on a computer at regular intervals” (p.44). Fortunately, other chapters make up for the serious shortcomings of this one. Chapter 5, by George Wrisley, on ethical subjectivism and relativism, is a good example. Although his treatment of Islam as though it were a monolithic culture is problematic, to say the least (p.51), Wrisley presents a key issue that the show seems intended to raise: “In contrast to a number of movies and other TV shows where good and evil are clearly and unrealistically demarcated, Lost shows the ethical complexities of individuals and the situations in which they find themselves” (p.49). The chapter, like the show itself, raises the important questions without providing answers, but merely providing the reader (like the viewer) the opportunity to reflect and engage in serious thought about serious topics.

Part II is called “O is for Origin”. Chapter 6, by Sander Lee, is the first in this section. Although its title (“Meaning and Freedom on the Island”) is rather vague, the content represents one of the first sustained attempts to engage the substance of the show as something more than merely an illustration of a topic. Lee writes, “Lost raises philosophical questions that place it above most televisions shows and connect it with themes found in the works of a number of philosophers” (p.63). Lee’s discussion sheds light both on philosophical matters individuals have pondered and continued to ponder, but also on the show itself, allowing knowledge of key thinkers to shed light on plot details, character names, and religious symbolism. Particularly helpful are the parallels to the Odyssey that are highlighted (pp.72-73). Lee insightfully notes a paradox that has subsequently come into sharper focus on Lost: Mrs. Hawking claimed that the universe course-corrected, and yet also told Desmond that if he didn’t go through with his destiny, everyone would die (p.75). Chapter 6 relates Lost to philosophy and literature in such a way that both sides of the interaction are illuminated in the process.

Chapter 7, co-authored by Charles Taliaferro and Dan Kastrul, also brings the Odyssey into the discussion, comparing and contrasting that story of a hero stuck on an island with Defoe’s other famous exploration of that scenario, and relating both to Lost. They note how Lost seems closer to Homer’s world of competing deities, not all of which are good, than Defoe’s Crusoe, whose experiences lead to faith in a single God and God’s providence (p.85). This chapter likewise offers more substantive interaction with the details of the show, focusing attention on the important point that our morality is not about what we do all the time, but what we do in certain circumstances. Chapter 8, co-authored by Charles Girard and David Meulemans, focuses on free will, and the question of how the past does or does not determine our identity, and the ways in which a radical change of setting (such as island castaways are perhaps uniquely able to experience) may or may not allow for a “fresh start”. Not only philosophical but psychological aspects of the question are discussed.

Jessica Engelking’s chapter 9 engages specific literary references on the show, in particular to The Third Policeman, which was seen on the show and identified by one of the writers of Lost as shedding light on it (p.102). The notion of guerilla ontology is introduced, as is Kuhn’s work on paradigm shifts, and it is suggested that Lost confronts us with incongruent details precisely to challenge us to think in new and unconventional ways. This chapter’s extensive use of online discussions and resources, including the information provided via The Lost Experience, more than makes up for those few contributors whose fandom (and thus their knowledge or understanding of the show) must be called into question. The final chapter in this section, by Tom Grimwood, focuses on codes, hermeneutics and deconstruction. Although the explicit raising of the question of how meaning is conveyed in various communications (such as a TV show, or a book about that TV show and philosophy) is helpful, there isn’t enough room to really clarify Derrida’s standpoint on such matters, much less to apply deconstructionism to the show in detail. But perhaps that’s appropriate – the chapter emphasizes the notion of incompleteness, that Lost involves an arc that we assume to be aiming for a goal, but it has not arrived there yet, and that in itself illustrates nicely many of the issues of communication and meaning raised in this chapter.

Some of the book’s authors wrote their contributions, it would seem, even before the completion of season 3 – either that, or they did not see all the episodes. The book was completed before seasons 4-5 had aired, which means that viewers now have a lot more information to go on. And so, to the extent that the book’s authors reflect on the show’s mysteries, some of their speculations are now obsolete, although many perspectives and suggestions remain possible, and rarely are the philosophical issues explored invalidated by what has happened on the show since the book was writte.

I noticed, as I looked up information about the contributors, that a high proportion were graduate students rather than established scholars. As a result, I wondered whether this might be at least a partial explanation of why some of the chapters in this book did not have the same feel of “pioneering into new ground” that other recent books on philosophy and popular culture have had, at least to a more consistent degree. As it turned out, one’s progress in academia did not automatically correlate with a more profound insight into the show and the philosophical subjects that intersect with it. To some extent, this aspect of many of the book’s chapters may have more to do with the delightfully frustrating character of the show itself, which leaves even those who seek to analyse it with academic rigor scratching our heads. I also suspect that it may simply be the varying extent of contributors’ knowledge of the show’s details that accounts for some chapters engaging the show in more substantive and insightful ways. But it may merely be the case that simpler, more introductory perspectives were placed first to facilitate the book’s use in the classroom.

Whatever the case may be, there is enough that is insightful, and enough that sheds new light on the show (even for a major fan like myself) to make the book worth reading. And if you aren’t a Lost fan, hopefully the book will illustrate some ways that the show can be useful as a starting point for intelligent discussion of important subjects, whether in a philosophy classroom or elsewhere.

I will return to the other two sections of the book on another occasion.


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