The Uncanny Mister Ligotti (Part 2)

Section 2: Who Goes There?

Ligotti begins this section with the assertion that we are all subject to “the uncanny,” the uncomfortable realization that we serve at the whim of natural forces beyond our control. The uncanny occurs when we realize “…our internal authority may itself be in the wrong, perhaps because it is a fabrication of consciousness based on a body of laws that are written only within us and not a detector of what is right and wrong, since nothing is really right or wrong in any real sense.”

Ligotti ties this sense of the uncanny to popular tropes in supernatural horror. Vampires and zombies, for example, inspire a sense of the uncanny because they remind us that our bodies are “…clockwork processes, mechanisms, rather than immutable beings unchangeable at heart.” Our minds may be extinguished, but our bodies carry on, governed by appetites beyond our control. So, too, are we reminded by films like “The Invasion of the Body Snatchers” and “The Thing” that our bodies are not proprietary manifestations of unique consciousness. We are merely bags of flesh and germs, which can replaced, moved out, or devoured at whim. When we recognize this fact, we are left with the dreadful realization that Life will go on as if we had never existed. 

Ligotti argues that there is nothing special about any of us, beyond our fervent desire to delude ourselves into believing we are special. To progress towards self-realization, we must first strip away our slavish devotion to faith, family, and country, which cloud our mind with false importance. “Any progress toward the salvation of humanity will probably begin from the bottom---when our gods have been devalued to the status of refrigerator magnets or lawn ornaments,” he writes. He returns to the topic of religion in the section below.

Section 3: Freaks of Salvation

Now Ligotti turns his sights on other philosophers of the nihilist creed. First among them is Nietzsche, whom Ligotti alternatively applauds for his pessimist principles and lambasts for his “joyful, life-affirming” philosophy. Ligotti maintains that many pessimist thinkers succumb to public pressure—for personal or selfish reasons— by inventing alternative meaning to this meaningless life. In Nietzsche’s case, this type of “materialistic mysticism” is merely a “sleight of hand,” a cheap trick to pull the wool over the public’s eyes. A life of hedonistic pleasures, as championed by Nietzsche, is simply another distraction from the grim truth of our purposeless existence. If one is to suffer in life, Ligotti seems to contend, one must suffer honestly.

Religion, of course, falls into this vein, as does transhumanism, both of which are filled with vapid, empty promises of a better tomorrow. Throughout the book, Ligotti demonstrates little patience for Western, ego-centric religions. He dismisses the afterlife as wishful thinking by those wanting to ameliorate the terror of dying. He likens the idea of a soul to “a special tapeworm…a figure of speech that has long been snickered out of existence.” In this sense, Ligotti seems intent to hang Theism on the same scaffolding as Optimism—namely, on the gallows of cowardice. (See Footnote 2, “On Religion”.)

Interestingly, Ligotti carves out a separate niche for Buddhism, whose principles of “life as suffering” and “the rejection of human cravings” are inseparable from pessimism, in his eyes. This is a contentious point of argument, as Buddhists would see themselves on a path to betterment and enlightenment—seeking a Nirvana whose existence Ligotti flatly denies. However, the mere fact that hundreds of millions of Buddhists are willing to accept Life as a place of perpetual, endless suffering seems to make Mister Ligotti happy. The fact that Buddhists maintain that we know nothing, that we are nothing, and that the Self matters not, turns these believers into unwilling bedfellows with the Pessimists. 

Finally, Ligotti closes this section with a discussion of Ego Death. The death of Ego is the second most optimal way to experience life, he argues, short of nonexistence itself. Ligotti provides several examples of famous near-death survivors who went on to embrace a seemingly pessimist view of the world. Ego-death appears a decent way to divorce the mind of its endless distractions, and thus to see oneself as the diseased, dying organism that we truly are. But how can one ever truly determine that their Ego is dead? Every conceited thought is a form of Ego expression; even the ideas in this book, which stem from Ligotti’s perception of reality. (Ligotti, I should note, does not posit that he has experienced Ego-death--merely that it is desirable.)

Section 4: Sick to Death

One might naturally expect a robust conversation about death in a book like this one. But in this section, Ligotti’s focus is largely on dying. He delves into the virtues of euthanasia, arguing that it is a moral imperative that society discover humane ways to end human life. To force an unwilling person to live in a state of suffering is a criminal travesty, if not an immoral perversion. 

We are so petrified of dying, Ligotti argues, that we perpetuate life at all costs, even in the worst of misery. He expounds upon theory of “Terror Management Therapy,” originating in the 1980s, which held that all our actions are motivated by fear of death. Our terror of dying drives us to endlessly delude and distract ourselves from our mortality. 

But what if we had the luxury of dying suddenly, without warning? What if we could die without fear? Ligotti imagines the ideal tombstone epithet to be writ: “He never saw it coming.” The only practical means of achieving this for an entire society would be an apocalyptic event—a nuclear war, perhaps. In the push of a button, the lights would go out and the misery would end at once. This is, perhaps, the best of all solutions in Ligotti’s eyes. “Collectively we are the undead,” he writes. “The devouring will never be done until someone or something performs the service of killing our rat race or we kill off ourselves.”

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Footnotes

(2) On Religion

If ever anyone had a doubt about Ligotti’s view of religion, these can be dispelled at once. Of the God of the Old Testament, he minces no words, calling Him “…an incontinent dotard who soiled Himself and the universe with His corruption…” Jesus Christ is “a historical cipher stitched together like Frankenstein’s monster out of parts robbed from the graves of messiahs dead and buried—a savior on a stick.” Allah is treated to similar rhetoric as a “virgin-pimp,” and Ligotti does not waste a moment further denouncing the “mountebanks of mysticism.” Religion is a moot point in this book. If you’re looking for a more nuanced argument against the faith held by billions, you may find yourself outside of Ligotti’s intended audience.

End of Part 2

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