An inquiry concerning the wisdom of building cathedrals

a thought experiment inspired by EA values

Photo via Unsplash.

Long overdue edit 5/24: Given that this is a writing practice blog, nothing here should be considered an opinion I hold strongly unless otherwise specified, but this post in particular is no longer endorsed. Please don’t use it as an example for “failure modes of EA”.

Looking upon cultural monuments, I used to feel something like pride. Not of my own achievement, obviously, but something like pride of my cultural heritage, and of what I was doing, or wanted to do, to preserve that heritage.

I could look at a building like that for hours, and imagine what it might have looked like through the centuries. I’d visualise the various renovations and states of decay the monument went through, exchange today’s tourists for the pilgrims of earlier times, swap modern vehicles for horse-drawn carriages, trade the smells of international food joints for the smell of a city not in possession of modern canalisation.

I’d watch the monuments being built in my mind’s eye, observing the workers putting stone upon stone, or die a messy death falling from the construction. Generations of workers, spending their lives building and never seeing the end result. This amazed me. So many people, working together towards a common purpose from which they never benefit. (Or at least, in their minds, not in life.)

The end results are beautiful, and I thought the force behind the process must surely be worth preserving.

What exactly triggered it eludes my memory now (though it might have been this), but eventually I ran a thought experiment. What if the unimaginable amount of resources, both money and human labor, that went into those cathedrals had gone into other things instead? Like education, science, medicine, or infrastructure? What would the world be looking like, now?

Maybe it’d look like the future from the original Star Trek series, were most of humanity’s current problems are solved, and dedicating your life to exploring the final frontier is a viable career option. Maybe it’d be so great that it exceeds the limits of my imagination.

So, my second question: Was building the cathedrals worth it?

Phrased more specifically, which point of the tradeoff spectrum between [spending resources on symbols meant to outlast their builders] and [building a better world in the present] is the one a civilisation should occupy?

My gut reaction to my thought experiment was: I wish they’d never built them. I’d rather be Science Officer at Starfleet and never have seen a single cathedral, than having to write this post in the present.

The consequent conclusion to this argument is to stop maintaining them, too. To stop doing all superfluous things until we at least have gotten rid of the absolutely idiotic problems, like malaria. Seriously, the fact that malaria, a cheaply preventable and curable disease, still exists, is so unbelievably moronic that there is no possible excuse.

And still, I don’t want to argue for that. A voice in the back of my mind says I should sort out all my issues a little more before making that choice on behalf of all my possible descendants, so I don’t.

II.

I’ve read a few arguments concerning the value of beauty. Or rather, admonishments not to disregard it. In terms of concrete economic benefits, those arguments often mention tourism. How does that compare to the economic benefit of all the world’s high potentials wanting to immigrate into your economic area, because it is such a nice place to live? I haven’t studied Economics yet, but maybe I’ll come back to the question.

This is a trick question though, because I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t admit that I too prefer to live in nice places. When I had to pick out unis to apply to as my safe choice in UCAS, I didn’t have much brainspace to dedicate to the question, so I mostly chose unis where google said they had a nice campus. Nice campuses often have plenty of old buildings. I’ve never been to the city where I’ll be living for the next years, but google image search promises that it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. I’m not sure what to make of that. Maybe there is a value of beauty that I cannot comprehend yet. (Or, more depressingly, that my brain isn’t wired to comprehend.)

Another argument that could probably be made in defence of cathedrals is that they’re an integral part of the Middle Ages, and that the Middle Ages were somehow necessary as a stage preceding the Enlightenment and subsequent scientific revolution. Jordan Peterson makes this argument in 12 Rules for Life, referencing Nietzsche. It doesn’t convince me, because it seems apologetic.

Measuring standard of civilisation by city size and running water, when the Roman empire fell we lost civilisational achievements that it took over a thousand years to regain. I don’t know why the Roman empire fell. Some blame climatic changes, or epidemics, or a dozen other things. Regardless, I think it should be a cautionary tale for our own civilisation. A glorious future will not happen because it is a historical necessity. It might never come to pass. If it does, it will be because we make it.

If I’m drawing any conclusions from the Rome question, it’s that there is no such thing as “historical necessity”. The concept reeks of the fallacy to see agents at work where there were none, and looking for a coherent narrative in randomness. So, against Nietzsche, I’m invoking Taleb. Therefore, if the Middle Ages were not necessary as a precursor stage to the Enlightenment, then, to get to where we are, we didn’t need the cathedrals either.

I have no expertise in city planning, and I don’t know what the cheapest price might be for which we could make cities beautiful. I’m not sure how important the pursuit of that kind of beauty should be. Having grown up in a city that was razed to the ground in WWII, and then having moved to another city that was built around a Navy port and looks the part, I think maybe I should withhold judgement until I’ve personally experienced whatever those elusive benefits of beauty may be.