“the beginning of innocence”

One of the most horrific and unnoticed clichés perpetrated on every possible occasion is that of “the end of innocence.”

President Kennedy is assassinated– “the end of innocence.”

Vietnam goes horribly awry– “the end of innocence.”

9/11– “the end of innocence.”

A brutal bank robbery in a small town leaves three employees dead, shot execution-style– “the end of innocence.”

Copernicus, Darwin, or Freud move human consciousness away from the center of the universe– “the end of innocence.”

Some 11-year-old kid leafs through a copy of Playboy at his friend’s house– “the end of innocence.”

You see the pattern. There is always a tedious narrative of gullibility eliminated by shocking confrontation with the real truth.

Here’s my question: when is innocence supposed to begin? I’m tired of everyone always ending it.

As I have proposed elsewhere, including on the former incarnation of this blog, the growth of human knowledge is the growth of enchanted innocence, not of aloof and cynical distance. We should dump prior beliefs only to adopt still more awestruck and innocent ones.

Speaking only for myself, I care about many things such as botany, paleontology, Roman history, various sports leagues, various philosophers, and enjoy eating various spices, none of which absorb the enchanted attention of any dog or mosquito. Yet I am asked by mainstream philosophy to see my unique human greatness above these animals in my ability to adopt a transcendent standpoint of liberated critique.

This seems so implausible to me. To learn a new subject is to become fascinated by it. Anecdotes of the childlike behavior of genius (Bohr is again a magnificent example) are legion.

Perhaps even more importantly, fascinated people are the only honest ones. Cynics, to me, are “adumbrations of the pithecanthropoid and amoebal” (Lovecraft).

What charms us in other people is not sneering aloofness; this always comes off as mediocrity and resentment and even fear. No, what charms us is the innocent absorption of certain people in this or that subject matter.

This goes a long way toward explaining why, in purely characterological terms, I’ve never met a more intriguing human personality than Alphonso Lingis. His fascination with beehives, pheasants, mirrors, weightlifting, cups of coffee, and physical danger are all somewhat childlike, but by no means affected.

Perhaps the most interesting baseball player of all time was Rube Waddell, who reportedly had to be held back from leaving games whenever fire engines went by the stadium, and was easily distracted whenever the opposing team held up puppies or shiny new toys.

To be the Rube Waddell of metaphysics would be a worthy aspiration, but naturally it cannot be forced. There are numerous ways of beginning innocence rather than ending it.