The language spoken in the village of Terit in southern India includes a word that is pronounced "sfor" (Sfor et Gnala: Conceptual Foregrounding and Elemental Insertion, Gamble and Winn, Paris, 1978.) There is no equivalent of this word in any languages known to my reader. Sfor usually appears at the beginning of a sentence and it means something like "What about the invisible twin?" For example, if one placed sfor at the beginning of the statement "The cows need milking." The statement would become a question meaning "Do the invisible twins of the cows, which need milking, also need milking?" Or, if one put sfor at the head of the sentence “You are in a hurry.” the resulting question would translate “Is your invisible twin in as much of a hurry as you are?” The worldview of the inhabitants of Terit includes a belief that our world is divided equally between the visible realm and a parallel realm of invisible twins. In the twin realm, things can be identical or different depending upon the state of mind of the speaker.
In truth, this state of affairs regarding the word sfor no longer applies universally in the 21st century. The belief in the invisible realm (called “asfori”) reached its zenith in Terit during the period that corresponds to the Renaissance in Europe, that is, the 15th and 16th centuries. Today only the most undereducated and isolated ten percent of Terit’s population still clings to the literal belief in an invisible realm of twins. But if you assumed that the word sfor had therefore fallen into disuse, you would be mistaken. Sfor can still be heard as much, perhaps even more than ever in the bustling central market of the village.
Words outlive their historical origins but often continue to express them semantically. Thus, what’s fascinating is that the 90% who no longer believe in the invisible asfori realm, continue nonetheless to employ the word sfor as if they still believed in asfori’s existence. The only difference is that the traditional imagining of the asfori realm has dissipated over the centuries while the sense of things having invisible twins has morphed into a fundamental axiom of Terit thought about existence. Indeed, when you ask a man or woman at the market in Terit if things have twins, they will, first, give you a perplexed look as if they find your question incomprehensible and then, after a couple seconds, they will say “Of course, how could anything not have!” In Teriti thought, having a twin is a condition shared by all existing things. “Untwinned” is an inconceivable, nonsensical idea (Sfor in the Market Place, Straus, Marlin Publishers, N.Y, 2003)
Our word “why” features all of the dimensions of the word “sfor”. For while almost no one recalls the original significance of “why” or its original evocation of a realm in which an imaginary omniscient being was made sole possessor of the reason why all things were, modern speakers continue to bestow simplistic, uni-dimensional causes upon the world, unaware of the blind faith in a undemonstrable realm that underlies them.
We have no idea why. If we had, we’d be able reliably to predict the future. Not the future as embodied in the next presidential election. The future as in three minutes from now.
The reason why things are and do as they are and do is impossibly complex and internally contradictory. So much so that the question itself must be viewed as invoking a realm of hypothetical simplicity no more and no less goofy than a world of invisible twins. Here are just twelve of the dimensions that play some role anytime one attempts to account for why something is or does anything:
1. As a result of what (just) occurred
2. In anticipation of or as a part of the preparation of what may occur
3. As a product of character
4. As dictated by habit or process
5. As a product of circumstances
6. In order to conform
7. As a result of historical factors
8. Due to socio-economic factors
9. Accidentally
10. As an act of will
11. As a product of biological, physical and chemical factors
12. Due to momentum
The concept of “Why?” is as strange and arbitrary as the concept of “sfor”. When we place the word why at the head of a sentence like “You are leaving now.” The result is a peculiar question “Why are you leaving now?” the answer to which would be, if it were actually formulatable at all, a Rubik’s cube of random, paradoxical historico-psycho-biologico-socio-cosmologico-circumstantial web. In contrast, the radical inadequacy of a reply like “I’m tired.” embodies our reflex assumption of omniscience. The “reason why” of things has morphed into a fundamental axiom of Western thought about existence. Indeed, if you ask a man or woman at Safeway if there are reasons for things, they will, first, give you a perplexed look as if they find your question incomprehensible and then, after a couple seconds, they will say “Of course, how could anything happen without a reason!” In the Western world, having a reason why is a condition shared by all existing things. “No why” is an inconceivable, nonsensical idea.
Not that we see our individual answers to the question “Why?” as a product of our own omniscience. No, of course, we know ourselves to have a variety of fallable points of view. Rather, it is our very eccentric tolerance for conceiving of one small, over-simplified corner of the impossibly complicated whole as an adequate representation of the whole that typifies our concept of why. We are calling the droplet that’s fallen off a leaf which fell from the tree weeks ago and has wedged itself in the gutter grate “a tree”.
If I’m asked why I’m leaving the party now, my answer “I’ve got to get home to feed the baby.” may be convenient and acceptable to all present, but it’s only a fabrication, a naïve placeholder, a thin shred of the inconceivable actual answer which includes things like the following EACH OF WHICH IS THE REASON WHY TAKEN INDIVIDUALLY AS WELL TAKEN IN COMBINATION:
1. I just remembered my babysitter’s 12 years old.
2. My constitution is such that I require 7.31 hours of sleep per night whereas over the last 60 days, I’ve averaged 7.16 hours and the reduced sunlight has diminish my Vitamin D level leaving me listless and less interested in nightlife than I might otherwise be.
3. My great-great grandfather beat his wife who beat her children who beat my grandmother who beat my father who beat me and that lady over there talks just like my grandmother.
4. If I don’t leave, then Ralph will probably forget to turn off the sprinkler.
5. I always feed my baby at…
6. Parties are less important to me than…
7. Mothers of my generation all breast feed…
8. Historically, children of non-breast feeding mothers have been vulnerable to disease.
9. I just stubbed my sore toe.
10. I’ve had my one glass of alcohol and don’t want to drive home drunk.
11. Being a single parent, I can’t afford for my babysitter to stay.
12. I’m only at this party in the first place because the host and I happen to have been in the same reading group, and so I don’t know many people here.
14. I recently decided to get more sleep.
15. Others around me are leaving.
16. The smell (of which I’m unconscious) reminds me of my ex.
17. Tomorrow’s Wednesday, my hardest day.
18. The harsh light in the bathroom made me look like George Washington.
19. No one’s asked me to dance.
20. There’s a tumor pressing on my ocular nerve.
21. The breeze entering through that window over my left shoulder makes me want to be outside.
22. I can’t recall if I fed the cat today.
23. Charles didn’t show tonight.
24. I’m responsible.
25. That good looking guy hasn’t made his move.
26. We’re not in Spain where the party would be just getting going.
27. These people are so Lutheran!
Each of these is THE reason why as evidenced by the fact that if any one of these factors had been different, it would have impacted the leaving behavior.
1. If I hadn’t remembered the sitter, then I wouldn’t be leaving now. So my remembering is the reason why.
2. If Charles had come tonight, I’d find a way not to leave early.
3. If I’d looked good in the bathroom mirror, I’d feel better about hanging later.
What is more, each dimension of why breaks down into multiple factors. Many of these factors are paradoxical yet true.
For example: Conformity is a historically, socio-economically and biologically determined tendency while history, society and biology develop in part as a process of conformity.
Our tolerance of providing a reason (a single reason) derives (without our cognizance) from an ancient habit of reference to a single knowing being.
Ironically, the chidren’s game has it right:
Why do I have to wear a coat?
Because it’s cold.
Why?
Because we live in Moscow.
Why?
Because that’s where mommy’s and daddy’s jobs are.
Why?
Because we need money.
Why?
Because without it we’d die.
Why?
Because we’re human.
Why?
Because God made us that way.
Why?
I don’t know. Ask God!
The game has it right in both senses. First, it shows that the reason why is made up of many (climatic, geographical, socio-economic, biological) dimensions. Secondly, all the dimensions are rejected in favor of a reference to a single all-knowing being.
