GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

i
ii
GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

New Meditations on First

Philosophy

STEPHEN MUMFORD

Bloomsbury Academic
An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

LON DON • OX F O R D • N E W YO R K • N E W D E L H I • SY DN EY

iii
 Bloomsbury Academic
An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

50 Bedford Square 1385 Broadway

London New York
WC 1B 3DP NY 10018
UK USA

www.bloomsbury.com

BLOOMSBURY and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury

Publishing Plc

First published 2017

© Stephen Mumford, 2017

Stephen Mumford has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and
Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the Author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or

transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval
system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers.

No responsibility for loss caused to any individual or organization acting on

or refraining from action as a result of the material in this publication can
be accepted by Bloomsbury or the author.

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN : HB : 978-1-4742-7952-9
PB : 978-1-4742-7948-2
ePDF : 978-1-4742-7950-5
ePub: 978-1-4742-7949-9

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

Cover design: Clare Turner

Cover image © Stephen Mumford, 2016

Typeset by RefineCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk

iv
 Contents

First Meditation 1
Second Meditation 23
Third Meditation 47
Fourth Meditation 73
Fifth Meditation 93
Sixth Meditation 111
Objections and Replies 133

v
vi
 First Meditation

Some 200 miles inside the Arctic Circle in the north of Norway
sits the island city of Tromsø. On the larger neighbouring island
of Kvaløya there is, after some distance and turns, a tiny
settlement called Bakkan. It consists of four houses on the slope
down to the fjord. The road stops before the village with the
journey completed on foot.
I have a friend, Petter, who built one of the houses. From
his kitchen window he has an uninterrupted view across the
fjord to the angular mountain-tops beyond. On the edge of
the water, he also built himself a small wooden cabin in which
he could sit and do his thinking. The interior is equipped in only
a basic manner. It contains a raised bed, a stove and a writing
desk that sits under the window. From that spot, you can look out
across the herring-rich waters, cold and silent. The stove is
essential in the harsh winters when temperatures rarely climb
above freezing.

1
2 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

It was to this simple cabin that I retreated one winter to

confront my most pressing doubts. These were many and
growing. For some years I had pursued my studies dutifully. Now
I thought they might all be for nothing. I could no longer deny
that I was mid-life. I needed time away, during which I could
decide whether I should continue with philosophy, or give it up
forever.
To have a friend such as Petter, possessed of this distant refuge,
isolated from all my professional obligations and societal ties,
had provided the perfect opportunity for escape. So it was that
I’d asked Petter to host me in Bakkan, permitting me undisturbed
occupancy of his little cabin. Within, I could use my solitary
confinement to meditate upon the matters that had troubled me
so. A fellow philosopher, he understood that.
I wished for little attention. Solitude had become the most
valuable commodity these past years, in which Bakkan promised
to reward me with riches. I knew Bakkan. But never before had I
visited in January when the sun remained absent all day long.
Nevertheless, I was guaranteed a warm welcome from Petter and
his family and hoped it would outweigh any chill wind or snow
flurry that came my way. As I carried my small case along the icy
trail approaching their home, led by Petter, I saw the rest of them.
Marie presented herself first, reaching for my gloved hand
and holding it with hers. ‘Takk for sist,’ came the traditional
Norwegian greeting. I wish we had something like it in English.
 FIRST MEDITATION 3

It says that you remember a nice meeting previously, as in ‘thanks

for last time’. The children also came out to see me. I had known
them since they were infants. Solan was now nearly as tall as me
and his sister Ragnhild was even taller, both with blond hair
protruding from beneath their woollen hats.
Snow and ice, darkness and stillness formed the backdrop to
our hurried greetings, then we were quickly away up to the
house, seeking its warmth. I had travelled long. Now I was in a
place where at late-afternoon the only light I could see came
from the moon, the stars, and a dim glow from the few houses
across the water.
Tea was served as we caught up on pleasantries. I liked these
people from Bakkan. The neighbours, Inger and Odd, were well,
I was told. The other two houses now had new occupants, an old
man and a young lady, both alone. Maybe I would meet them.
Ragnhild would soon be off to further her education and Solan
was doing well too. She was interested in veterinary medicine.
He wanted to make films.
I was not here for a holiday, though; nor to waste time. I had a
sense that after fulfilling my duty to chit-chat and catch up on
any family news, I must set to work on my task. It was a task of
the greatest magnitude. I was there to think about the biggest
challenge in my career – to my academic being – and one that, I
knew, threatened to render it all forlorn. Without resolving it
here, I could not go on.
4 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

I steered the conversion on to the cabin, dropping the hint

that I was ready to go down there and settle in. Petter was
prepared. He had made me a wholesome bread loaf which I
was told to take, along with a block of cheese and an ostehøvel
to slice it.
I had no objection. Though always unceremonious, the
hospitality was generous in north Norway and I knew that unless
I had everything I needed, I would leave excuses for the family to
visit and interrupt me. Indeed, I had to emphasise, not for the
first time, that I wanted no visits when down there by the water,
lest my concentration be broken by worldly matters. My
preoccupations concerned loftier subjects from which I could
not be diverted.
Petter took me down the 100 yards or so to what would be
my home for the next six days and nights. The small hike at
times threatened to land me on my rear through a combination
of steep gradient and ice underfoot. But it was negotiable with
care.
The cabin was as basic as I remembered and, as we entered,
no warmer than the wintry weather outside. Petter lit a
candle, set it on the table, and then quickly went to work on
lighting the stove. He explained each step for me as he went
along, putting in paper, kindling and firewood in a specific order
and quantity. But I was not a good listener concerning practical
matters.
 FIRST MEDITATION 5

Instead, I looked around my sparse quarters. They were cold

and damp, having remained empty all through the winter. There
were few comforts. And that was fine.
A nautical map adorned one wall. There was a small bookshelf
with only a single book upon it, laid flat. I quickly flicked through
it: a novel by Knut Hamsun. My Norwegian wouldn’t be good
enough to read it. No matter. By the time I had found a resting
place for my bag in one corner, unpacked my notebook and
pencil and placed it alongside the bread and cheese, the flames
were starting to take and it gave us some more light, though not
yet any heat.
Petter showed me the big basket that fitted under the bed. It
had a few small logs in it. ‘There’s not much fire wood for you
here. I’ll send someone down with more.’
I nodded approval. There was no point in protesting. Without
gas or electricity here, no luxurious glazing or roof insulation, the
stove had to be fed. The room would be intolerable otherwise. My
comfort – even my safety – depended on the proper functioning
of that simple stove.
‘So, Ben, tell me,’ questioned Petter, ‘Why have you come all
this way to Bakkan, and asked to be left alone in my cabin?’
I owed at least some explanation, given the generosity of
my host.
‘Problems,’ I offered, as an inadequate opening. I was coy in
presenting my concerns. I wanted to make it clear that I was not
6 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

there to talk the matter over but to think it through. Yet he

remained silent and looked at me for more.
‘You see, Petter, I am starting to wonder whether I should stay
a philosopher anymore.’
‘Really? And why’s that?’
‘I have doubts,’ I explained, getting only gradually down to the
issue.
‘I’m starting to fear that . . ., well, . . . that I’ve been wrong
all along. And what is a philosopher to do if he realises he is
wrong?’
‘Go and hide in a cabin?’, Petter suggested, with a mischievous
grin.
‘Not quite that,’ I assured him. ‘But at least I should think very
hard about whether to continue. I’m too old to come up with a
new philosophy that contradicts everything I’ve already said
before. No one would take me seriously after that.’
‘And so?’
‘So here I am. I’m giving myself these six days – possibly six
final days – to find some certainty . . . some clarity . . . for what I
believe in.’
‘And if you don’t?’
‘Then I don’t,’ I responded. ‘. . . And then there’s nothing to go
on for.’
These things matter to philosophers. I didn’t have to tell
him that.
 FIRST MEDITATION 7

After dwelling on this for a moment, Petter looked at me more

seriously: ‘Do you want to tell me what your doubts are, then?’
‘Not yet,’ I answered. ‘The first thing I need to do – hopefully
tonight – is to make concrete to myself exactly what the worry is.
If I can formulate the problem, it might be the first step to a
solution.’
Petter nodded.
Seeing that he was not really needed anymore, as I had all that
I’d requested, he politely bade me farewell and left the cabin,
making one last protest that I was not really as old as I thought. I
was grateful for that courtesy.
Cold air rushed in as he opened the door: an indirect sign that
the stove had started doing its job. I went out with him to watch
him make his way safely back up the icy hill in the direction of
his warm, family home. At least he didn’t have to share my misery,
which I was willing to isolate.

* * * * *

Finally, I was alone. I exhaled the relief of one who had travelled
far, arrived, and shut the door. With many miles behind me, over
land and sea, I had time at last to reflect on the true causes of my
being here.
Staring out over the fjord, I recalled the reasons and arguments
that had produced this unexpected crisis of confidence. Did it
really mean that my life’s work had been for nought?
8 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

The fact was that I had, in many articles and books over the
years, developed a philosophy of realism. This said that our
interests were not the measure of all things. Indeed, I had stated
that we were but one small part of the natural world.
I could sum it up like this: things existed whether we thought
of them or not. Knowledge of the universe was something
obtainable to us, though this did not mean that we could know
everything. Science was the best way to uncover many truths but
I did not believe it answered every question. There was still a
place for philosophy, which remains our best hope of
understanding the general nature of reality, in an abstract kind
of way.
We were right to have a sceptical attitude but not to hold a
sceptical philosophy. I firmly believed there was a world outside
of our own minds, for example, and I even thought that we could
know and understand a substantial portion of it.
But all around me there were challenges. Many didn’t like my
view. How could we be so sure there were such things existing
apart from us? We only infer the reality of other existents from
our own experiences, my opponents protested. Doesn’t that
mean that the only thing we know about with certainty is
experience?
Metaphysics made the mistake, I was told, of assuming we
could think and talk about the world itself, rather than just
thinking about the words or concepts we must use in order to
 FIRST MEDITATION 9

grasp it. After all, there are clearly different terms on which we
might conceptualise the world. We could divide it up in all sorts
of ways. Aren’t those divisions then arbitrary? We think of the
arm and the hand as two distinct things, but why should this
mental division be made at the wrist? Couldn’t it have been
at another place instead, if we had different concepts for the
world?
I had ploughed on in my professional life and developed my
own programme of work but all the time I knew I had nagging
doubts. I felt I’d had to set them aside. No longer. Was my realism
being built on sand? Could anything really be known other than
my own mind? And did I even know that? There was just one
thought or feeling and then another. How did I even know that
there was a ‘self ’ having those experiences? Might even I not
exist?
Sceptics had annoyed me. They seemed unreasonable and
stubborn. Their philosophy led nowhere. And, yet, did I have an
answer? A proof?
Consider money, for example. How could this be anything
other than a social construction? We have these small slips of
paper and metal coins that seem to mean so much to us. People
will do almost anything to get them. Money has a value, we are
told, which is sometimes so great. Yet this monetary value is
nothing but what we as a society have chosen to give it. Perhaps
we need not have created money; and I can conceive of a time
10 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

when we decide to have it abolished so that we can live in a

different way. Now money is real, of course, but it is real because
we have constructed it and it would not exist but for that. And
over times, social practices can give money reality even when it
exists only as numbers against a bank account.
I am part of the society which has conspired to create this
thing we call money, which exists only because of such a
conspiracy that sustains it. It seems it would be a folly on my part
to challenge this reasoning.
The sceptic’s challenge can go even deeper.
You might say that the metal or paper from which money is
made is surely real and could remain behind even if all life on
Earth were to cease. Scepticism would thus go only so far, one
might think. But I’ve known even this be challenged. Metal,
paper, wood, plastic: these are all things that exist because we
have categorised them. Without us, what is the world? A
collection of particles, such as electrons and protons, buzzing
around, colliding, forming partnerships. Beings much smaller
than us, or much larger, would see the world in a very different
way. Where we see difference, they might see sameness. Where
we see sameness, they see difference. What about the objectivity
I had defended in my realist philosophy? How can that be
justified?
Some say that virtually everything is socially constructed,
even tables and chairs, cats, planets, plants, rivers and mountains.
 FIRST MEDITATION 11

I met one man who said that electrons did not exist until 1897.
But once they were ‘discovered’, they existed and had always
existed.
I pointed out the absurdity in this way of understanding. It
generated a contradiction for it implies that in 1800 electrons
both didn’t and did exist. How was I to make sense of what I was
being told?
My concern was dismissed. ‘Contradiction is an artefact of
logic’, he insisted, ‘and we created logic too.’
I couldn’t argue conclusively against that. I knew there were
different systems of logic, with different uses and applications.
Could I really assert that there was a truth about the proper steps
in reasoning? Or does anything go?
I didn’t know why these problems were worrying me now in
particular. I had always known them. I’d put them to one side
because I wanted to make progress. I had been an ambitious
young man, publishing books, developing a system, earning
recognition and promotion. It had gained me a degree of
academic respectability and a comfortable life.
Perhaps it was just my age, then. Once I had passed fifty, there
was no point pretending I was young anymore. Early in life, it’s
rare you hear of one of your contemporaries dying. That had
changed. You know that you will not live forever. Some old
friends had already gone. How long was left? Twenty years? Ten?
Five? At some point, you have to stop and face the truth. You
12 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

cannot lie to yourself. To understand the world before you die is

all that really matters. It was now the only meaning I could give
to my existence: to know the truth.
If the sceptic was right, I would content myself with that. It
would entail that the constructive philosophy with which my
name was associated was without basis. And then there would
really be nothing more for philosophy to say. So be it. I would
spend my remaining days making pottery or weaving baskets.
Philosophy had not given me much relaxation, after all. Now I
could redress that deficit. There was still the opportunity.
Petter was a philosopher too. Would I tell him if I concluded
it was all a waste of time? No. He should do what’s right for him.
If there is no objectivity, let each man, woman and child enjoy his
or her path, as I would my pottering.
Still . . ., in these six days in Bakkan, there might yet be an
answer. Left alone with my meditations, I might come up with a
response. And if I know that my world is built on solid
foundations, then I would be right to promote my views to
others. I could write more books; leave a legacy to future
generations. They would read of objective realism and how
reason was our salvation. I might even tell them of my time here
in Bakkan, when I discovered the ultimate answer to the sceptics.
I would have a new lease of life, all cynicism banished. With
Petter, I could discuss metaphysics, logic, ethics and aesthetics.
Perhaps we might even write something together.
 FIRST MEDITATION 13

I quite liked that prospect. It sounded more fulfilling than

basket weaving. And yet, I still couldn’t opt for it just because it
would be a pleasure or it might progress my reputation. I would
be lying, not least to myself, if in truth I thought there was no
objective reality.
I looked at my watch and realised I should eat. I took up the
big knife I’d been given and cut into the dark and grainy bread. I
sliced some cheese and sat it atop. Silently staring across the
water, in the moonlight I could just make out the little houses on
the other side of the fjord. I sat and ate.
‘This is my task,’ I thought to myself. ‘A decision must be made
by the time I leave.’

* * * * *

After a second slice, I dusted off my hands and took up my

notebook, retracing my line of thought and writing it down. I
was here to think, rather than write, but I knew that unless I
recorded my ideas, I would often go over exactly the same path
again, each time presuming it was the first I’d been there. With
my notes, I could start back the next day at the point I had
previously left off. I now had to recall all the steps I had just taken
while they were fresh in my mind.
As I was occupied in that way, I heard some footsteps
crunching the snow outside. There was talking and giggling. The
cabin had a second small window, which was in the door. I stood
14 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

and looked to see that it was Ragnhild and Solan. Between them,
they dragged a sled, which they brought to a rest. I waved and
they saw me.
Ragnhild cleared the recent snow from a natural ledge that
was about waist high from where she stood. Solan reached in the
sled and produced a big chunk of wood, which he passed to
Ragnhild and she set it down on the ledge.
He reached in again and this time produced a small axe,
light enough to wield with one hand. He passed this too to
Ragnhild and she immediately set about chopping the block
of wood into smaller pieces. I looked down at my stove. It
had a glass door on the front through which I was to feed the
logs of firewood. They were making them small enough for
me to fit into the stove. I put back on my coat and scarf and
dragged out the basket that Petter had pointed out to me was
almost empty. With it, I stepped back into the cold Arctic
perpetual night.
‘We will make sure you have enough for a few days,’ Ragnhild
reassured me, and Solan gathered what had been chopped so far
into my basket.
He set out another big log for his sister to chop in half. She
lifted the sharp axe above her head and then quickly smashed it
down, cleaving the wood before her. I was impressed. Despite the
harsh climate, this family was the picture of physical health,
strong and skilled.
 FIRST MEDITATION 15

Moonlight caught the sharp edge of the axe head. My eye

followed it as it rose in her hand. Then – Smash! – it came down
again and the wood flew apart.
The strikes increased in frequency and Ragnhild was soon
going through all the wood they had brought. Solan said
something in Norwegian to his big sister. He wanted a turn and
she gave him the axe. Now he was showing us what he could do
with it, not raising it as high as she had, nor getting as much
power in the blows, but still he had enough for the blocks to be
chopped up and swept into the basket I had waiting.
We were all wrapped up against the cold but I could see that I
was now the only one feeling it. I was merely a spectator while
they took their exercise, their hot breaths being visible as they
met the outside air. With a few more minutes and a couple of
dozen chops, my basket was full of useable wood.
It was heavy, perhaps more than I could carry, but Ragnhild
took one handle and we lifted it together back into the cabin.
Solan followed us in with the remaining wood. I was sure I could
chop it alone, next time, but I was told that the axe was needed
back home. I should let them know if I needed more to be
chopped.
Here I was, dependent on two minors for my survival.
Ragnhild opened the front hatch of my stove and saw that
there wasn’t much wood left to burn in there. She reached for
some of the freshly cut logs and started bundling them in.
16 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

She liked to display her competence and made sure I could

see that she knew precisely what she was doing. Solan, meanwhile,
had jumped up on the bed to sit. I had only two chairs in my
temporary home.
I felt like I had visitors but it was, of course, I who was the
guest. This cabin had stood here since Solan was about two-years
old. I wondered if he realised in what an exceptional place he had
grown up. To me it seemed exotic, even magical. To them, it was
normal to spend two months each year without seeing the sun.
Bakkan could sometimes get extremely cold. I thought that it
was still warmer than it had any right to be. It was almost the top
of the world, level in latitude with northern Alaska. Were it not
for the Gulf Stream, which made it even up here, the area would
be virtually uninhabitable.
Even now, with the fire lit in my cabin, the cold had made its
way into me. I could feel the warmth from the stove on my face
and hands, but the bones inside me still felt a chill. It set me to
wondering whether I did right to come here for my thinking.
Was the cold or heat better for the mind?
Western philosophy had begun in ancient Greece, of course,
where it was probably a good idea in the summer to sit and do
nothing but think and talk. Would I be able to do the same in a
winter climate or would my brain freeze up? I had come seeking
reclusion, primarily, which I still hoped to obtain once my fire
had been suitably rejuvenated.
 FIRST MEDITATION 17

‘Try not to go out any more than necessary,’ Ragnhild

mentioned, with a grin. ‘If you got lost in the woods, you would
soon be turned to ice.’
‘Don’t you worry,’ I reassured my young friends. ‘I fully intend
staying in here as much as possible.’
‘But make sure that you are not tempted out and off into the
woods by the Huldra,’ added Solan, sounding excited.
His sister smiled, and felt compelled to tease me more.
‘Yes, stay away from the Huldra while you are here. If you see
her at your door, don’t let her in. And never follow her into the
woods!’
‘The Huldra?’ I finally queried. I could tell they enjoyed
arousing my curiosity.
‘She’s a beautiful lady,’ Solan explained, ‘. . . and she will tempt
you. But if you follow her . . ., you will never be seen again.’
‘Oh,’ I replied, in a serious tone. ‘I will surely avoid her.’
‘You can tell it’s her because she has a tail,’ Ragnhild now
informed me with mock gravity. ‘She tries to hide it, though, so
you won’t be able to know her straight away. Make sure to look
for a tail.’
I chatted with them a bit longer, including hearing about the
time their grandfather met the Huldra. He’d had a narrow escape.
After that, they wanted to know how things were back home. The
whole family had visited me a few years back so they knew of my
normal way of life. The children had first learnt their English
18 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

there. Not much had changed since their stay except that we had
all grown older.
They didn’t ask anything about what I was doing there in
Bakkan, staying over in the cabin for the first time. Youth can be
very accepting. Maybe others before me had come and done the
same. It didn’t seem as unnatural to them as it did to me. Perhaps
I was having a once in a lifetime experience.
There were more footsteps, trudging through the snow,
expertly avoiding the hazards. Marie’s face appeared in the little
window in the door and there was a smile.
‘Come in,’ I called, and once she was inside I continued, ‘Were
you worried where they had gotten to?’
‘Oh no,’ said Marie. ‘I was more thinking they were being a
nuisance to you.’
I believed this. The children had been free to wander around
the island all they wanted since they were very little. They
respected nature but I never got a sense that they feared it. Not
even the Huldra, really. In contrast, I would no doubt be dead if
I was out there for as little as one hour.
‘Besides,’ Marie added, ‘I brought you some hot tea for the
night. Do you call it a flask?’
It was indeed a flask, in English. Norwegians get confused by
that term: for them, flask means a bottle. But I was very pleased
that she’d had the foresight to think of it. I didn’t want to be
trouble so hadn’t asked for anything but I could see that at
 FIRST MEDITATION 19

some point during the night a warm drink might be very

welcome.
‘How has your thinking gone so far?’ Marie asked. I showed
her my notebook and flipped through the few pages I had written
up before the firewood was brought down. In truth, I had not got
much done but that was to be expected. Tomorrow would be
different.
They all got up to leave and wished me a safe and pleasant
night. Donning their hats and gloves, they were soon out but
Solan paused and beckoned me.
‘Do you see that bright star?’ he said, pointing up above
a mountain further down the fjord, in the direction of the
open seas. ‘That is Polarstjernen – the North Star. If you get
lost in the woods, always look for that and you will know
which direction to walk and come back home. The star is
always to your north. Then the Huldra won’t be able to fool
you.’
I thanked Solan. They soon were ascending the slope up to
their house in about half the time it would have taken me. The
path was rough and uneven, but they all knew every step.
I retreated back in and shut the door for the night. No lock
was needed in a place like this, so there was none. Still I thought
I would rest and sleep much easier had the door been secured. I
would just have to try not to think about it. A reindeer couldn’t
turn a door handle, anyway, could it?
20 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

Before taking to my bed, I finished off writing up my notes

from the earlier meditation. ‘Can we answer the sceptic?’ I wrote.
‘What mind-independent reality would be left, if any, were we to
take away sapient beings from the world?’ These were my
questions.
With that, I decided the day had been long enough, after most
of it spent journeying. But it was also very easy to feel sleepy with
all the hours of darkness here. My mind, and then my body, were
telling me it was bedtime.
I had been warned that the stove would not last the night. I
could get up every few hours to reload it with more wood and
keep it going. Or I could just sleep in something warm and go
right through the night. I was so tired that I opted for the latter
but put in as much new firewood as I could fit before I finally
turned in.
It felt a bit like I was sleeping in the wild, with none of my
regular home comforts of modern living. I was now situated
fully in nature and considered whether there would be bugs or
spiders under the covers. But I wasn’t even sure such things could
live through the winter here so I put it out of my mind. Despite
wondering what I would do to pass the time if sleep would not
come, I was awake only for a few more minutes.
But that was not quite the end of the first day.
I was disturbed in the night, coming only gradually to
consciousness from what had been a deep sleep. My nose
 FIRST MEDITATION 21

was like ice. But that was not it. Something else had awoken
me. I felt it first: an irregular vibration that seemed to shake the
cabin.
This wasn’t just a movement. It was a sound – a deep and
pervading one: a wailing, crying, moaning. At times it seemed a
heavy breathing. I had not heard the like before. Was I dreaming?
No. I was sure. But then I couldn’t make sense of it either.
Was I disorientated in this alien environment? But I was
certain I was aware of my other surrounds clearly and distinctly.
I could feel the warm bedding against my body and cold air
against my face. The fire had gone out and the darkness was
engulfing. But still I heard this irregular noise, which seemed to
be reaching out across the whole fjord.
I did wonder whether to get up and try to light the fire. But I
remembered that it would mean lots of trouble with paper and
kindling; and standing there, poking and venting it. If I stayed in
bed, I could keep the heat trapped inside my blankets. And that
was also a reason not to get up and stand at the window, looking
for the source of this unexpected disturbance.
Besides, Petter had told me that a whale visited every year: a
humpback. The fjord was deep and full of fish and it came
to feast during the winter. I’d never heard this sound before
but I’d been lucky. The whale was visiting along with me. Its song
was another aspect of my commune with nature. What did I
expect?
22 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

It might have continued some time more. But I don’t know.

After the initial surprise, having drawn a rational conclusion
from it, the world was aright again. I felt myself drifting back to
sleep. I decided that, for the duration of my stay, I would regard
the whale song as my lullaby.
 Second Meditation

I slumbered for some time, waking and then sleeping still more. I
had no sense of time in this darkness but knew that if I looked at
my watch I would then stay awake no matter how early it was.
Eventually realising I had all the sleep I could take I saw that it was
after 8.00 and very late for me to rise. Had I wasted some of my
thinking time? So far, all I had done was articulate the doubts I
had suffered. I was here to find a solution, if there was one. If not,
I was to accept the pointlessness of my life: wasted thus far. But
then it need be a waste no more after Bakkan.
Determined to set to work, and that this day would be a
positive one, I jumped out of the bed into the freezing coldness
that had taken over the cabin. I couldn’t work without warmth
so, once a candle was lit, my first job was to get the stove going.
Scrunched up paper and small chips of wood were good for a
start. Once that was lit with matches, I could put in a bigger
piece: one of the logs.

23
24 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

The paper burned well but I put on the log too soon. Was
there not enough oxygen, or too much? I had a little air vent I
could open or close. Had I used enough kindling at the right
time? It was clearly failing so I made a second attempt. More
paper and kindling and time.
I couldn’t really do much more than stand watching the stove,
checking if the flames were taking hold. I sat a little kettle on top
but it was far from warm enough to make my tea. I drank some
that was left in the flask but by now it was only lukewarm. Tea
was one luxury I couldn’t do without. As soon as the first log was
burning, I thought I had better introduce a second and make
sure it kept going. The flames lit the room through the glass
window on the stove’s frontage: a warm orange glow. But not yet
cosy. It took some time for the cabin to feel warm and then for
my water to boil.
I drank the fresh tea and put on another small log, surprised at
how quickly they burnt out. But after consulting my watch once
more I realised that I had been devoted to the stove’s lighting for
more than an hour. I wanted to leave the cabin and visit my hosts
but didn’t feel I could until I was sure the stove would burn
through my absence. If it didn’t, I would need to recommence the
lighting process all over again.
Outside, there was fresh snow from the night: lots of it. At no
point as I slept did I have a sense of it falling. Nevertheless, the
tracks back up to the house, which had been there yesterday,
 SECOND MEDITATION 25

were now almost entirely covered. There were only the slightest
indications of where they had been. I tried my best to follow
them, and thus avoid any perils off the beaten track, but it was a
struggle.
Sometimes I sank down to my knees. At other times I slid
back. The grips on my boots weren’t really up to the job. Nor were
they high enough. Barely covering my ankles, by the time my
ascent was complete, my socks inside were entirely wet and cold.
‘Ho, ho!’ came the greeting when Petter first saw me through
his kitchen window, struggling up to his house. He was amused
at this ill-prepared foreigner’s battle against Mor Jord. Yes, I
was used to a comfortable city life. For this week, at least, I had
turned my back on it. My decision was sound, though. All the
distractions back home would never have allowed me all this
time for reflection.
Inside, I shook the snow from my shoes. Marie was there too
and there were smiles all round: smiles of relief, perhaps.
‘So you survived the night?’
‘Yes’, I replied, by self-verifying utterance. ‘I actually slept
really very well. I was a little unsettled at first but I was soon
asleep. I think I was tired after the travel.’
The door opened again behind me and there was another ‘Hi,
hi.’ It was Inger, come up from the second house in Bakkan.
‘Takk for sist!’
‘Takk for sist.’
26 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

‘I saw you walk past us.’

Their house was closer to the cabin than Petter’s was.
‘You fell over a few times,’ Inger noted.
‘I did.’
‘How was your first night in the cabin?’
I had to repeat my tale. ‘Yes, it was fine. I slept well. I was just
telling Petter and Marie. But today I really will get some serious
work done.’
‘Are you writing?’ she asked.
‘Well . . . yes. Thinking and writing.’ It was too complicated to
explain exactly what I would be doing in the cabin. Nor did I
want to burden these folks with my personal crisis. Best just to
say I’m writing, I thought.
‘You really must let us know if you need anything. You can
wash in our house, if you want, Ben. And you can work there as
well, if it gets too cold in the cabin.’
She called me Ben and I had to remind her that I preferred
Benedict.
‘That’s very kind of you, Inger,’ I professed, but I had no
intention of working there. Inger and Odd were alright, but they
wouldn’t understand how important these six days were to me:
how my life would be changed at the end, one way or the other.
I had my morning wash in Petter’s house, where I had also
kept my clean clothes for changing. That way they didn’t get
frozen during the night. Tea was made and I was glad to sit and
 SECOND MEDITATION 27

drink it in a warm kitchen with Petter, Marie and Inger before

heading back to my solitude.
As I was about to leave, I remembered to say something.
‘Oh, did you hear the whale in the night?’
My question was met with blank stares. Then they glanced at
each other with unrevealing faces.
Petter broke the silence.
‘No.’
I felt like I’d said something stupid.
‘I heard it in the night. It woke me up.’
They listened. No one seemed to want to interrupt my tale so
I felt I had to fill the silence.
‘I didn’t know what it was at first. It was a wailing sound. It was
very loud. You must have heard it.’
‘The whale was here last month,’ Inger explained. ‘January is
too late in the winter for it to come.’
Inger was a marine biologist. The local economy depended on
fisheries. I could muster no argument against her expertise.
‘And we’ve not known it come back once it’s left. Not until the
next winter, anyway.’
‘So none of you heard it?’ I decided that this would be my final
protest.
The others shook their heads.
‘I suppose you might have slept through it. But it was so loud.
Have you ever slept through it before?’
28 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

‘It’s possible,’ conceded Petter. He seemed willing to listen,

though added ‘It’s hard to know what you have missed when you
are sleeping. So you might be right. We are used to whale song in
the night. It could have woken you because you’re not.’
That seemed a good explanation to me. And it was polite to be
conciliatory. In any case, it didn’t really matter. I was just making
conversation and I really shouldn’t get annoyed with my kind
hosts just because they missed something that, with my sharper
ears, I had heard. I was pretty sure I had.
I explained that it was time I was off back down the hill to my
second day of meditation and, yes, some writing, if the spirit
took me. With that I was gone. It was easier going downhill and
only a problem if you tried to stop. As I got nearer to the cabin,
though, I started sinking in snow up to my knees again and I was
slightly self-conscious at the thought that they might all be
watching me from the window.
I was back just in time. The stove was almost out but by
feeding it some more wood and air, I was able to salvage the
flame without starting all over again. Finally, I was ready to begin
work. I tried to forget that half of the morning was already gone.
Now I recounted all my worries from yesterday, all my
sceptical doubts. I browsed over my notes. Some think that there
is nothing of which we can know the objective existence.
Everything, they say, could be in our minds only, and constructed
by us. I had been pursuing these thoughts last night, until
 SECOND MEDITATION 29

Ragnhild and Solan came to chop my firewood and tell me about

the Huldra. I had found no obvious answer by that point.
I stared out of the window and my thoughts began to wander. I
was surprised to find that there was light this morning. The sun did
not shine on Bakkan but clearly it was not far away from doing so.
I could see it on the higher mountain-tops in the distance. With a
bigger impact than that, it lit up the sky and the clouds above us,
announcing that it would soon arrive. The colours in the clouds
were astonishing, changing according to their varying textures and
thickness, especially at the edges.
I could see back down almost to the end of the fjord. And
it was from there that the light was coming. In an isolated
place – a gap between two mountains – the sky seemed blood-
red. At home, my horizon was flat. Here, it was sharply up and
down, delivering an impression of distant light that I could
contemplate. I was lost in the experience. It seemed that if the
sun did appear right now, I would be blinded. Partially obscured
to me, I could appreciate the beauty of its effect without seeing it
directly.
My mind felt freed of all external encumbrances and in that
state delivered to me some unexpected associations.
I recalled a conversation I’d had with a sceptical gentleman
some months ago. Perhaps it was this incident that had started
my recent problems. The man was a distinguished scholar though
of another field entirely, not philosophy. It seemed like he had
30 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

read some related texts, however. We somehow got on to a

discussion of causation: what it is for one thing to cause another.
I started to push my regular realist line. There were facts of
causation, I insisted, which were real whether anyone knew
about them or not.
There were statistical methods that sometimes revealed a
raised incidence of some feature, such as when people who drink
from a particular water pump come down with cholera more
than those who drink from other sources. This indicated a real
causal connection between drinking the water and a serious
illness, I argued. Perhaps some cases of causation go undetected,
I allowed, but they could be real and there nevertheless,
irrespective of the evidence. This was the realist position. The
reality of the world was not dependent on human knowledge of
it. Our beliefs had to match the world rather than the world
being a creation of those beliefs.
The gentleman sat and listened but I could see the quizzical
look on his face, even on the occasions when he nodded. Finally,
having heard me out, he mounted a counter-argument. He
started by saying that he simply did not believe in causation.
‘How can you not believe in causation?’ I instantly protested,
and that was when he explained.
‘You see, I think it is all just a social construction. We
experience many events – one thing and then another – and we
make sense of our experience by putting it in a causal order. But
 SECOND MEDITATION 31

we can never say that the causal ordering is something in the

world itself. It’s just in our way of thinking about the world.’
I was annoyed, but I wouldn’t say astonished. I was all too
familiar with this line of thought. I’d heard it before in other forms.
‘And you say it’s a social construction?’ I asked, for clarification.
‘Yes. Like everything else. It’s not an individual thing. Some-
one on his own did not have the power to produce this
conceptualisation of experience. It’s a social phenomenon. It is
the way that people in our culture categorise certain aspects of
the world.’
‘So there could be another culture that didn’t understand the
world in causal terms?’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘That’s perfectly possible. There could be a
society – and there might actually be one – in which they accept
that one thing follows another, and perhaps it even does so
regularly – but they don’t accept that one thing ever causes or
produces another.’
So causation wasn’t real, he concluded, other than how we
make it. And he rested his case, with some satisfaction, convinced
that I would have no plausible argument against it. I admit that,
at the time, I did not, and it irked me to be unable to respond.
Was this the reason I now found myself in a cabin, in the
wilderness, pondering on the matter of what we could know and
what we couldn’t know? Had so simple an argument undermined
the whole strength of my realist conviction?
32 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

It was time to put another small log in the stove so I reached

into the basket of firewood that Ragnhild and Solan had kindly
chopped for me.
It was coincidentally at that moment that a new argument
struck me and I saw the details fall into place. If there was one
thing that could not be a social construction, I realised, it had to
be causation. And if anything at all was socially constructed,
then there had to be real causation in order for it to be so.
I sat back and carefully thought through the line of reasoning.
If it was sound, then I had found a new fundament on which to
rest my realist philosophy, and all was saved.
A claim that causation was socially constructed seemed to me
impossible.
In the first place, the view is meant to be that causation is
socially constructed. But to construct is a causal verb, which
means that I cannot understand the claim as anything but that
society has made the idea of causation: it has created it. And
what does this mean other than that society has caused the
notion to be? Now the absurdity is apparent. Society would have
needed causation to exist – to be real – in order to have
constructed it. So the claim of the social construction of causation
seems to fall apart. Causation would have to be real in order for
that to work. But if it is real, it defeats the very claim that is made.
Now suppose my sceptical opponent tries to defend his
position. When he says that society constructed the idea of
 SECOND MEDITATION 33

causation, he doesn’t literally mean that society caused causation

to be. That would be to concede defeat too quickly. Perhaps all
that is meant, however, is that once the notion of causation was
constructed, it applied also to the account of how it itself came to
exist. So when it is said that society constructed causation, it does
not mean that we literally made it but only that we have come
together to agree that we did.
But this seems to be hopeless for my opponent. The only sense
I could make of it is the idea that we did not really construct
causation at all. We only agreed to say that we did. So it is not a
social construction. My opponent would thereby be giving up
his own view. Rather, we have only conspired among ourselves to
pretend that the concept of causation was constructed.
That would be a very different theory. Even if it were true, it
would impinge on the issue of the reality of causation not one
bit. What does it matter to the world what we agree to say or not?
But I conclude, instead, that regardless of any other sort of claim,
causation itself could not have been socially constructed. Only if
causation were real could it have been so; but then that contradicts
the sceptic’s claim.
That is bad enough.
But, in the second place, the claim was that causation is socially
constructed; that is, constructed by a society.
Now it strikes me that this too is a significant view and
deserves some scrutiny. For, by my understanding, a society is a
34 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

plurality: a grouping of many individuals. But it is more than just

a plurality. To count as a society, those individuals must form an
interacting plurality. And here I can apply some similar reasoning
as before. If causation is said to have been constructed by a
society, then causation must exist already in order for that group
of individuals to be a society. Without causation, not only is there
no construction, but it seems that there is no society either.
So any claim that urges specifically the social construction of
anything, is committed to the reality of causation after all.
I needed to think this through a little more and justify my
assumptions, as this new argument could be of crucial
importance. I had to know it was right.
Yet it seemed clear that a group of individuals is not a society
simply in virtue of being numerous. Imagine if I had ten men
and women picked at random from around the world and I
gathered them all together. I then placed each of them in their
own soundproofed cell with thick walls but I nevertheless made
sure that all their physical needs were taken care of. I allowed
them air, food and sunlight but I did not allow them to see each
other, talk with each other, or in any way be noticed between one
another.
It seems now that, even though these individuals are kept
within one vicinity, they in no way constitute a society. They
cannot speak with each other and each keeps thinking and
ordering food and drink with their own native language. They
 SECOND MEDITATION 35

cannot get together and talk with each other about, for instance,
whether it is good or bad to live within these cells. They cannot
rise up together to overthrow me, their captor, or perform any
other kind of joint action. They cannot create any impression on
each other at all. This, to me, is not a society.
Societies are bound together by the fact that they interact.
They converse with each other and, in virtue of that, develop a
common language. They share values to an extent but can also
challenge them and debate them. They get in each other’s ways
and have to negotiate compromises and shared norms for living
together. To be in a society is to be affected by those around you
and, in turn, to affect the others. Were your society to make no
difference to you at all, to have not shaped or changed you in any
way, then you really are not a part of it.
Interaction is thus essential to society. It cannot be a society
without it. And yet to interact with something is to be caused to
change by it and, in turn, to cause it to change. Without causation
there is no interaction and without interaction there is no society.
So I can conclude that without causation there is no social
construction of anything, which confirms my earlier finding.
This struck me as an argument containing such certainty and
impact on the debate that I immediately started recording my
chain of reasoning in my notebook. I wrote a heading: Societas
ergo causalitas. If there is society, then there is causation. This
defeated at least one significant form of scepticism. It told me
36 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

that not everything could be socially constructed, for one thing,

so it seemed a matter of necessity that at least something
objectively real – causation – must exist independently of us and
our practices.
New possibilities were opening up to me. I felt a degree of
optimism for the first time in a while. Even the sky seemed
lighter than before. But I had a sense that this was not the end of
it and I could reason to other significant conclusions from this
solid starting point.

* * * * *

I would have progressed immediately to other such thoughts

were it not for the scrunch of approaching footsteps in the snow.
It seemed that someone was coming to interrupt me already and
I straight away realised that it would be greatly perturbing if I
were to never regain that chain of reasoning. Something of
immense significance might then be lost to me forever. I had
already made sure that I had all that I needed in the cabin and
was more than clear to Petter that I desired to be left alone.
I stayed sitting at the desk with my notebook, my back turned
to the door. There was nevertheless a knock upon it, which I
could not ignore. I turned to see no one that I recognised but,
instead, a perfect stranger.
I opened the door and my visitor came straight in, uninvited:
a young lady. ‘Hello,’ she said, ‘Biret.’ I did not know it but later
 SECOND MEDITATION 37

confirmed that this was her name. She offered me her hand,
which I held and then gently shook.
She brought the cold in with her, about her body, but
nevertheless removed her hat, gloves and coat without the slightest
prompting and sat upon the chair on the far side of my desk.
‘I thought I would come and see you. Petter told me about you
and I thought I should say hello.’
‘Welcome, I’m Benedict,’ I responded, ‘and it’s very nice to
meet you.’ I could not be impolite to a friend of my hosts.
‘I’m in the blue house,’ she explained, which was behind Inger
and Odd’s, a little further up the hill. ‘I’ve been staying there for
just a little while.’
She was young with bright, lively eyes. Her English was unsure
and hesitant, though I knew it already to be far better than my
own Norwegian.
As I would expect in Bakkan, she wore no make-up. Her hair
was straight, dark and mid-length, looking as if the winter gusts
had been throwing it around. How could I take offence at her
natural beauty, here, amid so much of nature? I looked down at
my own clothes: rumpled and dowdy in comparison. Nor had I
shaved.
She asked what I was doing here.
‘Just writing,’ I said. ‘I’m a philosopher.’ But I was already tired
of explaining my presence so steered the conversation on to her:
how was she, what was she doing today, and so on.
38 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

She had dark colouring and features, especially her eyebrows,

and she didn’t seem to look to me like a typical Norwegian; not
that I would ever want to enquire into matters as personal as
appearance.
Fortunately she volunteered the information that she was of
Sami background. Samis tended to be darker, or so I was told.
Western Europeans used the term ‘Lap’ and spoke of the area of
Lapland but I had been in Norway enough times to know that
these names were not the ones Samis preferred. Some names
were considered insensitive and, for all I knew, derogatory; so I
stayed clear of them.
‘My parents moved, for work, just after they married. I grew
up south of here,’ she told me,‘but I am going to live in Kautokeino
to learn the Sami language properly and to be surrounded by my
culture.’
Her plans sounded to me naïve. To have such a goal in life
seemed to mean very little when I had been wrestling with
my grand philosophical problems. I was tormented by some
of the biggest questions ever to face humanity. But could I
really criticise anyone else whose life had meaning, as it seemed
Biret’s did? I was here precisely because my own life may have
no meaning at all, if it turns out I’ve been living in a fantasy.
My earlier breakthrough had given me hope that I was not, but
it was all still to be settled and I didn’t really have time to be
sociable.
 SECOND MEDITATION 39

‘Is it all that important to learn the language?’ I enquired. Was

that rude of me?
But no, she seemed to take it with good will.
‘Our culture has been oppressed. We have been marginalised,’
she told me. ‘It is my duty to learn the language so that Sami
culture will survive and grow.’
I really couldn’t argue against that. Here I was, from a culture
that historically had oppressed so many others. And there was
she, seeking to defend a culture that could easily be lost to the
world. So I nodded.
Yet I also loved Norway. Was it Norwegians who had been
cruel to Samis? I would have to ask Petter or Marie. But I was
impressed at Biret’s spirit and sense of the political dimension of
her choices.
‘What else was there to Sami culture apart from the language?’
I asked. The question was genuine. I had momentarily forgotten
philosophy and was inquisitive to learn something from my
temporary interruption. I doubted I had met a Sami before.
‘We feel close to nature,’ she said, although that seemed to
apply to everyone in Bakkan, by my lights.
‘The climate is harsh in Kautokeino. A tradition of storytelling
began in winter nights when the light had gone away. I want to
study literature.’
I could understand the point about the darkness of winter.
The sky had lightened and entertained me around mid-day but
40 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

now was black again. Here we were, talking by the light of the
stove and a candle. Yet this light was comforting and cosy. I could
easily imagine on a night like this that someone begins telling a
story that grows and develops over time, with repeated telling,
becoming eventually a favourite. That would be a nice way to
amuse ourselves now, with so few other pastimes, apart from the
company of another human being.
The flames looked to be going down. Biret jumped up and
grabbed another log from the basket. She opened the door and
placed it atop the embers. Then, when she closed the door, she
opened the vent at the bottom to send in more air. The flames
rapidly grew and took hold on the new log. Her skill with the
stove was impressive and she had looked after us well – looked
after me – ensuring we would remain comfortable.
I put the kettle on top of the stove. ‘Would you stay for some
tea? It’s been rude of me not to offer,’ I conceded. But it was too
late now.
‘Thank you but, no. I have things I must do. Will you be here
until Soldag?’
‘Soldag?’ I queried.
‘The day the sun returns: February the first.’
I recalled my travel plans and replied that ‘Yes, I will be here
. . . Petter has invited me to dinner that evening. It’s my last night.’
‘I will be there too,’ she added, ‘for dinner,’ and with that she
went to leave.
 SECOND MEDITATION 41

I surprised myself by urging her to ‘Call again.’

Had I broken my self-imposed rule of solitude? And would I
do the same for Petter or Marie or Inger? Probably not. No
matter. I couldn’t dwell on questions such as those now. She was
gone and that was it. But I first watched her climb back up the
snowy slope in the direction of her home. As with Petter before,
she ascended effortlessly. I had struggled so. She had power and
speed but also the confidence of having trodden that path other
times before and knowing she would succeed.
I sat back at the desk, the cabin now quiet. This was what I
wanted. Solitude. I could settle back to work. Where was I? Oh,
yes: societas ergo causalitas.

* * * * *

It was at least an hour before I was able to advance my thinking

any further. I sat looking across the fjord at the glimmer from
the houses over there. Below them was a line of reflected
light pointing straight at me, shimmering as it bounced off
the water. I looked at my candle. It didn’t need replacing. But
I did have to put more wood in the stove. The pile in the basket
was going down surprisingly quickly. I would need more
tomorrow.
So a society could not be one without causation, I had found.
It was no society without interaction. It struck me that there
could be a further step that continued this argument.
42 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

Language was one of the things that held a culture together.

Biret had taught me that in the case of Sami people. She wanted
to learn the Sami language so that she could properly partake in
the heritage of her grandparents. But use of language too requires
social interaction.
I had heard someone argue how one solitary individual could
never create or use a language on his own. Or her own. For then,
she would never know for sure whether she had used a word
correctly or merely believed that she had done so, mistakenly.
Only if there are other users of that language can there be any
stable meaning. Other language users can correct someone who
misuses a word. This provides the normative dimension of
meaning. A word ought to be used this way; and ought not to be
used that way. If there was only one user of the Sami language,
then it would have effectively died out already. For that one user
might just be misremembering how a word ought to be used –
what it ought to mean – and no one could challenge her. How
sad that would be.
Language must be, therefore, a social phenomenon. And while
causation is not a social construction, language most certainly
is. I had already concluded before that if there was anything
socially constructed, then causation had to be real. I could now
add to that interim finding. If there was any language, there had
to be a society, and if there was a society, there had to be causation.
One could argue, therefore, from the existence of language to
 SECOND MEDITATION 43

the real existence of causation, which depends for its being on

an interacting community.
I might have settled there, and declared it a good day’s work. I
was hungry and knew I had more bread and cheese. However,
one final step seemed within my grasp and I could not let appetite
allow it to slip through my fingers.
Language is crucial to thought. While some things might
qualify as thought and not be linguistic, I think that most of it is.
I think largely in words; and there are certain things I could not
think unless I had words for them. I might feel hunger in my
stomach, but could I really think that I wanted cheese unless I
knew a word for cheese, in whatever language it might be?
Some people say that thought is concept manipulation.
That might be true. And I think it is through exposure to
language that we acquire concepts. Words articulate the concepts.
Perhaps both ‘cheese’ and ‘ost’, within their own contexts, pick out
the same concept. I think so. But I needn’t settle that one. The
conclusion I was really interested in is that without language,
there would be very little thought or, you can say, cognition.
My best cognitive capacities are dependent on me being a
language user.
Without language, perhaps I might be able to anticipate that
someone is coming to visit me, such as Petter or Biret. But I
couldn’t anticipate that Petter is coming tomorrow or that a pretty
Sami girl is coming to dinner on Soldag. Only with a word for
44 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

tomorrow, or some combination of words that mean the same, can

I have thoughts about tomorrow.
Now when I put together all the day’s thinking, I could tell
that I had discovered a significant chain of new reasoning. The
arguments could be lined up.
If there was any social construction – indeed, if there was to
be any society – then there had to be causation. And if there was
to be any language, then there had to be a society. I had now
added a third claim. If there was to be any thinking, then there
had to be language. So it seemed that thought implied language,
language implied society, and society implied causation.
I opened my eyes widely, staring incredulously, my mouth
also open. Had I just proved what I thought I had proved?
I ran through it all again. Was every step in the chain secure?
Was the chain unbreakable? Yes, it seemed so. There were
supplementary premises at each stage but they seemed correct.
They were defendable.
I took up my pencil and at the bottom of the page, in the
notebook, I wrote Cogito ergo causalitas. I underlined it twice.
There is thinking, therefore there is causation. And I know there
is thinking. I cannot doubt that; for even to doubt is to think.
I can say with surety, therefore, that causation is real. It is. It
exists.
I had to spend a few moments savouring this conclusion, for
it seemed to have the power to change everything; to save me
 SECOND MEDITATION 45

from scepticism, to answer my critics. To salvage the world. And,

that done, I had reason again to stay a philosopher. Had I, so
soon, achieved the goal of my visit to Bakkan?
I sat for some timeless moments, contemplating in the
darkness, a feeling of satisfaction sweeping over me. Eventually, I
remembered the hunger and ate.

* * * * *

More footsteps approached the cabin and I stood up with a smile,

ready to play the host again. This time it was only Solan. ‘Is
everything alright for you tonight, Ben?’ he enquired. They had
sent him down to check on me. He handed me another warm
flask to see me through. ‘Do you have enough water and
firewood?’
‘Yes, I will be alright,’ I reassured him. ‘But I might need more
wood tomorrow. It seems to burn too quickly. Am I using too
much?’
‘Don’t worry. Use all you need,’ he insisted. ‘You have to keep
putting it in if you want it to carry on going.’
‘Correct,’ I confirmed. ‘It’s not as if you can use less and have it
cooler. If you don’t feed it wood when it needs it, the stove will
just die on you.’ But I don’t know who I thought I was to tell him
about looking after a stove. I’d only run it for a day. He seemed to
take it in good spirit, though. He was very grown up for a teenage
boy, and tolerated my misplaced attempt at patronising him.
46 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

He checked around the cabin and all was well. He moved to

leave.
‘Oh,’ I stopped him. I had remembered something. ‘Did you
hear the whale last night?’
‘A whale? No. Did you?’ said Solan.
‘I think so.’
‘Wow, then you are lucky. It’s not usually here in this month of
the year, and you got to hear it.’
‘Yes. At least I think so. But anyway, you’d better be getting
home. Take care out there.’
That was a satisfying end to the day. He ran back up the hill as
if it wasn’t really there. We both knew perfectly well that he was
in no danger at all. I was the only one who needed to take any
care.
I settled back into my snug cabin, ready for my temporary
bed.
Despite being tired, I didn’t drift off to sleep immediately. I lay
there listening. Would the whale be back again this night? And, if
it was, would everyone hear it this time? They were wrong to
doubt me. I was pretty sure I was right. They were missing out by
not believing me.
Whether it was there or not, however, I heard nothing at all in
the night. Instead I slept like a stone, solidly through, until the
start of the next day.
 Third Meditation

I was finally awoken by the shaking, creaking and banging that

the wind outside was creating in my little hut. A gale was in
progress. I needed to get up and light my stove but it was so cold
that I didn’t want to emerge from under my bed covers. Again it
took an hour from first lighting the stove to knowing it was
established and only at that point could I make my first hot cup
of tea of the day. I could feel an icy draught coming in and on
close inspection of the door I saw that there was a significant gap
in the top corner, where it didn’t quite match up with the frame.
This was why the hut didn’t hold the warmth for long, once the
stove went out. But the gap was not quite big enough for any
snowflake to pass through.
Then I battled my way up the hill, a strong wind carrying
snow horizontally into my face. During the short climb to the
house, my chin became numb. Impenetrable clouds made the
day darker than yesterday, even though we were closer to first of

47
48 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

February, which I now knew to be the day Bakkan would see the
sun again. My last day here.
Calling on Petter and Marie, I announced my arrival by
showing off my newfound local knowledge. ‘Soldag is coming,’
I pointed out. They confirmed it, enthusiastically. I would be
lucky to see the sun re-appear. It had been away for over two
months, during which time they had lived through the extreme
darkness and bitter cold. The steps leading up to their front
door had been ice covered for the duration. Marie told me
she was very happy at the thought of the sun shining on them
so that she could see her doorsteps again. It was a much-
anticipated day, each year. But this winter had been especially
hard.
I told them how cold it had been in the cabin this morning
and that the wind had been shaking it. They didn’t seem overly
concerned. I’m sure the cabin had withstood worse than that.
They offered me hot coffee and, although I would normally
be a tea drinker, this morning I did not decline. I stayed as
long as I could but knew I needed to return to keep the stove
burning.
When I had everything I needed, I was off back down the
slope, which today was even more treacherous in that direction.
I had now learnt that it only became a problem downhill if you
tried to stop. You had to throw yourself into it, partially sliding.
The main real danger, as long as I did this, was that I would end
 THIRD MEDITATION 49

up in the fjord. But soon I was sat back at my desk, still relatively
dry, and ready to start work.
By mid-morning, I hadn’t gotten too much done. I wanted just
to sit and think about my new cogito argument but the stove
needed lots of attention this day and I had to intervene several
times to ensure it didn’t go out. Just as I thought it was fully
established, and was ready to settle into serious work, I heard
footsteps coming down to me.
I jumped up hopefully and looked out of the window. It was
only Odd, Inger’s husband.
‘Hi, hi!’ he greeted me. It had been a little while.
‘Takk for sist, Ben!’
‘Takk for sist.’
I brought him in, keeping the door open for as little time as
possible.
‘Quickly,’ I said. ‘I’ve just got the stove going again.’
Odd was handsome, tall and dark haired. Like everyone I had
encountered here in Bakkan, he was the picture of health. One
would have thought that the harsh environment would wear
these people down, as I felt it was wearing me. But I had evidence
that the long-term effect of Arctic living was not detrimental.
Wasn’t it I who had become weak and enfeebled after all the
luxuries I enjoyed at home?
‘Welcome back to Bakkan!’, he told me. ‘You’ve been here a
few days, ikke sant?’
50 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

‘Ikke sant?’ is like the French ‘n’est-ce pas?’, which can be

attached to almost any statement in Norwegian. It’s a request for
affirmation.
‘Yes. I’m working. But also enjoying the peace and nature.
How’s your own work?’
Odd was a physicist. We had talked before of science,
physics and philosophy, not always with agreement. We were
both seekers after truth but with some different ideas of how to
get it.
‘It is good,’ said Odd. ‘My students are bright this year.’
I always admired the education system here. It was some
years behind the universities that I knew the best; but that also
seemed a good thing. Academic values remained paramount
still in Norway.
‘I hear you’re trying to solve all your problems here,’
said Odd.
This slightly annoyed me. Petter must have told him, or at
least he heard from Petter via Inger. What irked me was that Odd
had sometimes in the past suggested that philosophy was mainly
just about theories, none of which could ever be verified, and
that philosophers couldn’t ever say that anything was true. He
seemed to suggest that there could be no progress in philosophy.
It agitated me even more that Petter never seemed to mind Odd
saying this. I understood it, at times, as if he was saying that
philosophy had no right to exist.
 THIRD MEDITATION 51

He had now found me at my weakest point, full of doubts that

I had openly confessed to Petter. Petter shouldn’t have told Odd.
No matter. If Odd had come down to gloat then it was about
to backfire. He didn’t realise that I had already discovered the
answer to any major doubts, just yesterday, and it defeated the
sceptic with certainty.
I let him think for a little while longer that he was in the right
so it would be all the more satisfying when I unveiled my new
argument.
Finally I confessed.‘Well, actually, I think I have made excellent
progress. I’m very pleased. I may have just put philosophy on a
new, sounder footing.’
Odd looked slightly startled. ‘What is that?’ he enquired, with
a tone of disbelief.
I proceeded to explain all my arguments from the previous
day in every detail.
I told him how causation, of all things, cannot be a social
construction because if there is to be any society, and if there is
to be any construction at all, they needed causation to be real. I
told him, furthermore, that language was essentially a social
phenomenon and thus it followed that the existence of language
was itself a proof of the reality of causation. Finally, I explained
how thought required language and that this produced my third
and final argument. Given that there is thought, then I can know
causation to be real.
52 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

He let me develop all these points at my leisure, sitting in

silence for some ten or fifteen minutes as I delivered my
impromptu lecture until I finally rested my case.
‘Hmmm . . .’ was all I heard. He stroked his beard, pondering.
‘What do you think?’ I pushed him, expecting some form of
praise, or at least concession. How could he not see the
persuasiveness of this defence of realism?
A beard was good to stroke, when thinking. It wasn’t just for
fashion.
‘Well, I’ve listened,’ he began. ‘But I’m not convinced.’
My high spirit was instantly felled.
He proceeded to tell me why.
‘When I look at physics, and learn more about it, some of the
mysteries of how the world works disappear. I start to understand
that nature has a mathematical structure, which we can describe
using equations. And with these, we are able to answer the sorts
of questions that you try tackling with your metaphysics.
‘What is really striking about this, is that in physics, we never
use the word “cause”. We never say things like “this causes that”.
Furthermore, your concept of causation is an inherently
asymmetric one. If A causes B, then B cannot be the cause of A.
But when I look at the equations of physics, I cannot see those
asymmetries. An equation can be read from left to right or from
right to left. Everything, in theory, is reversible, except perhaps
entropy, but that is controversial.
 THIRD MEDITATION 53

‘So I don’t think it is merely that we don’t use the word cause.
It’s clear that we don’t have anything that looks like causation in
our theories either. It’s not just that we are using causation by a
different name. There’s none there. You see what I mean?’
I remained silent, perplexed.
‘This shows what I’ve been trying to tell you for some time,
now, Ben. You cannot sit in your chair and discover any truths
about the way the world is. Only science tells us the facts about
the nature of reality. Philosophy is just conceptual analysis. You
can tell me what a concept means, for example. But only I can tell
you what actually exists in the world. It’s ultimately an empirical
question: it depends on the observed facts of the matter. And
unless you come out of this cabin and start observing the world
– taking recordings and measurements – you can never tell me
what exists.
‘So you might sit there and tell me you’ve thought it all
through, but I don’t believe you can use reason, unaided by the
senses, to conclude anything at all about what there is. That can
only happen if you look at the world.’
He hadn’t finished.
‘Physics is very mathematical and theoretical these days, I
concede. But all our theories have to respect the data. They have
to be at least consistent with the observed facts. I cannot see
anything in your philosophy that meets such a standard. So if
you tell me you’ve discovered something, using reasoning alone,
54 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

I will remain sceptical. And if it’s not something that is part of

our best scientific theory, then I will outright reject it.
‘Science cannot be told by philosophy that causation is real,
Ben. That is a matter for science to settle. I think we already know
enough about fundamental physics to say that there is no such
thing as causation; ikke sant, Ben?’
‘Benedict,’ I corrected him.
I was somewhat taken aback by his onslaught. Did he really
know what he was saying? He had implied that what I was
doing – what every metaphysician was doing – was completely
worthless. We were wasting our time.
How could he not expect me to take this as an insult? It was
not as if I thought physics was valueless. I accepted its validity as
a discipline. Indeed, my realist philosophy was very supportive
of science. Why couldn’t science reciprocate? Did it think there
was no point to philosophy at all?
There was a degree of ignorance behind Odd’s attack, I
thought. It seemed to me that he assaulted philosophy because
he didn’t really know what it was. If metaphysics were trying to
do exactly the same as physics – but doing it from the comfort of
an armchair – then his point was fair enough. But he was wrong.
Philosophy is not like that. It doesn’t answer the same kind of
questions as science. And it doesn’t have the same kind of answers
as science, either. But it frustrated me so much that people would
think this way, having so little regard for what I did.
 THIRD MEDITATION 55

I felt ready to say all this but Odd got up and made to leave. It
seemed, to me, a bit cowardly of him, to make his point and then
exit, presenting no opportunity for reply. Typical, I thought.
Farewell, he said in Norwegian: ‘Ha det bra.’
I had to remain on good terms with him. He was a friend
and neighbour of Petter and Marie. I couldn’t fall out with him.
But his arguments felt like an accusation of idiocy on my part.
That’s no way to treat a guest to the village. He is rude. Still, no
matter.

* * * * *

I tried getting back to work. I’d done nothing yet, this day. But it
was damned hard to concentrate. I kept thinking of the
conversation with Odd. The affront! . . . The insult!
I sat at my desk with my notebook open and the pencil in my
hand. But there was nothing to write. There were no thoughts or
ideas. I just kept mulling it over. I’d thought I had solved the main
problems I was here to consider. There was hope. But it was fleeting.
My uninvited visitor this morning had come and dashed my
optimism. Damn, damn, damn!
Damn him.
Needing to compose myself, I went and stood outside. The
cabin had become warm, almost stifling, since Odd left. Outside
the air was cold; but it was fresh. The day’s little light was already
starting to fade. It lit the sky only hazily and from afar, not yet
56 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

casting itself directly on the ground on which I stood. That would

not be for a few more days: until Soldag, the Sun Day.
By my cabin was a small homemade pier, stretching out into
the fjord. Now, for the first time since arriving, I felt drawn to
tread upon it. The steps down carried some peril but I was
determined to make my way. The snow had stopped.
I walked out to the end. Though it was no more than twenty
yards long, I felt I was now standing in the fjord itself. I turned
and looked back at the four houses of Bakkan, standing above
my hut: such a beautiful sight. But then I turned again and looked
out at the ocean. The wind swept sideways, threatening to take
me into the ice-cold waters. But still I had no fear. I took a further
step until I was at the very edge. I looked down, down into the
darkness.
The fjord was deep, I’d been told. It looked bottomless. No
light could escape its freezing clutches.
Some years ago I had visited Niagara Falls. They are high and
impressive. I was able to venture right to the fall’s edge. At the
side there was a plain footpath at which you can stand within
one stride of the very point where the water alters from calmly
gliding along the flat riverbed to plummeting violently, hundreds
of feet on to the rocks below.
I could see how tempting it was for the eye to follow the water
as it reached the brink, or perhaps to keep fixed to a leaf that had
been carried along, but then follow it over in its destructive
 THIRD MEDITATION 57

plunge to the bottom. I felt as though it was calling me in, and

only a small fence was in the way. Then, as I talked to others who
lived locally, I heard that there were many instances of visitors
jumping in. With no prior warning to their friends or family,
with return tickets in their pockets, with meetings in their diaries,
they had spontaneously stepped over the fence and gone in. Next
time they were seen, they were mere remains.
And here I was in the north of Norway, staring into a similar
abyss. Was Odd right? Was my new argument ineffective? Was I
in no better a position than when I had started? Odd seemed to
think so. And he knew I was there to work through my crisis.
Why would he want to crush my spirit that way? Oh, to be a drop
in the ocean . . .

* * * * *

These few minutes outside were all that I could bear for now. I
was chilled right through. Although I had brought my warmest
possible clothing, and buttoned it all fully up to the top, it was
now clear that it was not really up to the task I had asked of it. I
scurried back up to the cabin and made myself some tea, which
I had with bread and cheese. I had to rally myself.
Was I going to admit defeat at the first challenge from Odd?
Would I let him win and throw myself into the sea? Wouldn’t
he just want me to do that, and to take the whole of philosophy
with me?
58 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

I sat and thought again. I had to regain my composure: think

logically through the problems. Taking this approach yesterday, I
had found that my sceptical opponent had to use the very thing –
causation – which he purported to deny. He had to do this in order
to explain his position. He alleged the social construction of
causation; but social construction is the explanation of something
only if causation is real. So his approach was in no position
whatsoever to deny the reality of causation.
Returned to my sanctuary, belatedly I saw that exactly the
same kind of move could be used against Odd.
By this, I mean that it can be used against anyone who says
that science makes no use of causation, or that causation doesn’t
exist, or that its existence is an entirely empirical matter on which
I have no right to judge.
It seemed to me that, contrary to everything Odd had said,
science needed causation in order to be worth pursuing. One
could say that science itself was premised on the reality of
causation. It was then science that had no right to judge as to the
existence of causation. Science had already presupposed it. And
if causation was not real, then we should have no business in
performing science.
I had to think this through and make sure that I really had
turned the tables on Odd.
I could think of at least three ways in which the reality of
causation was a presupposition of science.
 THIRD MEDITATION 59

First of all, science claims that it can make discoveries through

the performing of experiments. There are countless instances in
the history of science. I select just one. It is possible that we fire
particles such as electrons or photons towards a barrier or plate
in which are cut two parallel slits, where this plate stands some
distance from a wall or screen behind. If we do this repeatedly,
we find a pattern created on the back screen. This is known as an
interference pattern and leads us to think about how the particles
passed through the slits. Some have said that this experiment
reveals, among other things, the dual nature of light: that
sometimes it makes sense to think of it travelling as particles and
at other times it makes sense to think of it travelling in a wave.
Now an experiment such as this involves what we might call
an intervention. We have not merely sat and passively recorded
what was happening. We have stepped in and introduced a
change into the natural order of things. This means that we have
made something happen. We have fired particles towards a
slitted barrier. A laboratory in which such an experiment occurs
needs a large budget. Science is not cheap. The justification of
the research grant is that, using the money, they can actually
fire particles. They can make a pattern with them on the back
screen. The experimenter, then, is making things happen. The
intervention makes a difference.
Suppose some physicist, such as Odd, said that he didn’t really
believe in causation. Then why would he need research funding
60 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

to perform his experiments? He would be admitting that nothing

he did affected the world. He would have to concede that he was
helpless to intervene. He was incapable of making a difference.
There would then be no experimental method after all. It is hard
to see how anything could count as an experiment, under these
conditions, nor why we should make a financial investment in
supposedly conducting one.
This point seems entirely general; not just about the double-
slit experiment. Suppose I work in medical research and want to
test a new drug. One way to do so is to put it to trial. I get two
large groups, sorted at random, and I give one group the trial
drug and the other group a sugar pill. I then record whether
more people get better who have taken the drug than those who
received only the placebo.
Without causation, though, how would the taking of the drug,
or the placebo, count as an intervention? The drug can’t be what
made some of those people get better; and then it cannot be what
explains the higher recovery rate in the drug group. That,
presumably, is something which just happens. The scientists
running the trial cannot then be said to have done anything.
Without causation there is no action. Why then should we fund
such a trial?
So my first point is that much of science depends on the
possibility of interventions in the world. This is crucial to the
idea of experimentation. But intervention is a causal notion.
 THIRD MEDITATION 61

Therefore, unless causation is real, there are no experiments and

this part of science is entirely redundant.
The second point makes the situation look still worse for my
opponent as it concerns an even bigger part of science.
Much of science starts with observation. This is what it means
for it to be empirical. It is based on the evidence of experience.
Scientific theories have to be at least consistent with the data,
as Odd had said. This evidence might come directly from the
senses, such as looking or listening to something, or it might
come indirectly, such as when we use a measuring device or
some instrument that assists observation. Among measuring
devices, I can think of Geiger counters and oscilloscopes. Among
things that assist observation, I can think of telescopes and
microscopes.
Now the point to be made is that nothing would count as an
observation unless causation were real. The senses would not
provide evidence of anything if they were just visions of the
imagination. What we see matters because, we have to presuppose,
those perceptions were caused by some state of the world, either
directly or via an instrument.
One scientist asks another, what is the temperature in the
room now? The second scientist looks at a thermometer on the
wall and pronounces ‘It’s 15 degrees.’ There is one good reason
why it matters what the thermometer says, which is that some
fact about the room – its warmth – caused the thermometer to
62 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

give that reading. This is why the reading counts as an observation.

This is why the thermometer delivers evidence, and provides
data. Furthermore, we trust that as the temperature rises, it
causes the reading on the thermometer to rise.
The same argument applies in the case of direct observation.
Observers recount that they have seen a dog, or a medical
scientist reports a kind of skin rash they have observed on a
person, this counts as evidence of something only because in
turn the dog and then the rash caused the observations. If they
didn’t, then the visions were only imagined or hallucinated,
which means that it would not count as evidence of anything
(other than a psychological dysfunction).
Furthermore, unlike the cases of imagination and
hallucination, scientific observations are supposed to be
objective. This means that anyone looking at the same place is
able to repeat the observation. So if a real dog causes an
observation, then other people will be able to go and look at the
same thing and see that it is a dog. The presence of the dog will
cause a dog-like observation for anyone who cares to look, and is
of sound mind. But this is not the case with an imagined or
hallucinated dog. If someone else goes and looks in that place, I
assume that they will not, with much likelihood, ‘see’ a dog.
The charge here, then, is that without causation, nothing
counts as an observation. Without causation, there is no empirical
evidence for our theories to follow.
 THIRD MEDITATION 63

But this is absurd. We really can observe things. This is all

because the objects in the world cause us to have certain
experiences which then can be used as evidence of what there is.
Causation is the basis on which observation has any value. And
given how much of science is dependent to an extent on the
evidence of the senses, science has no place at all in doubting the
reality of causation. Without it, we don’t really have any science.
Very good.
And then there is a third way in which science depends on
causation.
Science is a success, we are often told. And despite some of its
failures, I can on the whole believe it. Yet, what does this success
mean? It means that its discoveries have enabled us to do
beneficial things. We have been able to build machines and other
technologies, achieve feats of engineering, find cures for diseases,
and so on. Now how would any of this be possible if it were not
for the reality of causation?
The findings of science matter, primarily – though not solely
– because we can do things with them. If the medical trial has
shown that people taking aspirin tend to get more relief from a
headache than people who don’t, then it gives me the opportunity
to take aspirin when I next have a headache. Why would I take it
unless I believed in the reality of causation? And, more to the
point, why would I do so unless I believed that science had
shown us that this drug causes pain to go away?
64 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

So, after all the observation and experiment, the question is

why would science have any purpose if causation was not real? It
can make the world a better place only if it can change the world.
And it can change the world only if causation is real.
I have these three arguments, then, and they seem to show
that almost all of what science does is built upon a presupposition
of the reality of causation. Causation is the foundation of science.
No scientist, therefore, should ever try to undermine the claim of
causal realism, for that also undermines his own position and his
own practice.
Any scientist who tells me that he doesn’t believe in causation
is telling me that he doesn’t believe in his own discipline. No
longer could Odd claim that science has any validity as a method
of discovery, nor that it has any use.
Odd was completely wrong this morning, I had reassured
myself. If only he could hear my argument now, surely he
would then have to concede my point. How foolish he would
feel. Maybe it’s he that should go throw himself off the pier,
not me.
I thought that I really must pause my thinking now and note
all of this down, before I forgot the precise line of argument and
let Odd off the hook. Who knows, I might get another
interruption. So I made sure I did record it all in my notebook
and I felt that the day had seen me achieve another victory over
scepticism.
 THIRD MEDITATION 65

* * * * *

That night I enjoyed my dinner. Ragnhild brought me down a

basket that contained some carrots as well as a small carafe of
wine. I had cracker bread with brunost, a sweet brown cheese. I
savoured the flavours after a few days with a very plain diet. I was
told to let them know if I needed anything more and I felt happy
and cared for.
With a full stomach, I might have called it a day and taken to
bed. I looked at my watch and thought it might soon be time.
However, the day was not done at all.
I heard more footsteps and wondered whether Ragnhild was
bringing me more provisions. But the face that appeared at the
window in the door was Biret’s and I was happy to see her.
‘Come in, please,’ I said. ‘How nice of you come and see me
tonight.’
On removing her coat, I saw she had a dark red dress on,
which I found charming. The only bright colour I had seen
since arriving was the sun shining into the clouds yesterday
morning.
‘Did you have a good day?’ Biret enquired. ‘I saw Odd earlier
and he told me things were not going well.’
‘No,’ I protested, maintaining some level of jocularity. I made
light of it: ‘The day started with some challenges but I feel I’ve
overcome them. I was down but now I am back up.’
66 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

‘How strange it must be to be a philosopher,’ she noted. To me

it was normal. But then, life in the Arctic was normal to her, and
to all these residents of Bakkan. It was foreign to me, but getting
less so with each day I was here.
‘It’s just the way I am,’ I explained. ‘I like to think things
through. I like clarity. I want to understand.’
She saw that my stove was almost out. I had thought of
running it down for the night. But she crouched down and set to
work on it immediately. Again I admired her skills. She knew
exactly when to give the stove more air, more wood, and how the
introduction of the two should relate.
‘And are you coming to understand life in Bakkan, yet, Mister
Philosopher?’
She was teasing me slightly. But I didn’t mind being playful
this night. I decided to give her question a serious answer.
‘I think I understand that the return of the sun is important.
People seem excited about Soldag.’
‘You are right,’ she agreed. ‘The sun is very important to us,
and in Sami culture too. It gives us light, warmth and food.’
I allowed myself a romantic flight of fancy. ‘It makes you
wonder . . . How must our ancient ancestors have felt up here
when the sun went away and would not return for two months, or
more further north? Did they fear that it might never come back?’
She listened carefully. I could tell I held her attention, so I
continued.
 THIRD MEDITATION 67

‘Did they pray for its return? I would understand if they did.
Their science was not advanced. Now we know the exact time we
will see it again, this February first. But they would not have
known when it would be back, if at all. They would have known
that if it did not return, they would freeze and starve. Wouldn’t it
have been rational of them to worship the sun?’
‘I think you are right,’ she said, and I found it encouraging. ‘Of
course they were bound to worship the sun. They could not
anger it, or it might decide not to return. And they struggled to
grow food here. They had to live off fish mostly but they also had
the few root vegetables they could get from the short growing
season. If the darkness stayed all year, they could not remain in
this place.’
I asked her: ‘Do you think they got more confident that the
sun would return after each year when they saw that it did?’
‘I suppose so. They would have had elders with them, too, who
were able to recall many years when it went away but came back.’
‘I wonder, then . . . They would have had a religious idea of the
sun having a will of its own, and making a decision whether to
return, for instance, if people had pleased him . . . or her . . . and
then they would have had also a scientific kind of reason for
expecting it to return. If it had been known to return on fifty
other occasions, when it had left, weren’t they right to think it
would return on this fifty-first time?’
She thought before answering.
68 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

‘That depends,’ she said. ‘Sometimes it seems that the more

times something happens, the less likely it is to happen again.’
‘Can you give me an example?’ I was excited that she would
think this way.
‘Well . . . I mean like when the more times you have taken a
match out of the matchbox, then the less likely it is that there will
be another for next time. People could have thought like that:
there might have been only so many times that the sun was
prepared to return to us. So people might have worried that each
year was using up one of those times and it might not come back
next year.’
I adored her example.
‘Or I can think of the boots I wear to walk in the snow,’ she
continued.
‘They keep my feet warm and dry many times. But I would be
wrong to think because of this that they will keep me warm and
dry forever. They will wear out eventually and each time I use
them wears them out a bit more. So, unless I take them for repair,
each occasion I use them makes them less likely to keep me dry
next time; not more likely.’
I started to feel . . . that I could listen to this girl all night.
But she was not truly a girl. She was a woman: a young woman,
but definitely a woman. Her face was lit only by the candle and
the flame of the stove. But it allowed me to look into her eyes
and I felt drawn in, just as I had felt drawn in to the fjord
 THIRD MEDITATION 69

earlier. I could have abandoned everything and jumped right in

there.
I checked myself. I realised I was entranced.
What a fool I was to be captivated by this young lady. I
recomposed myself. I needed to say something.
‘So, what do we do for Soldag now, here in our enlightened
times?’ I asked.
‘Oh, it will be wonderful,’ she enthused. ‘You must come.
Everyone in Bakkan will meet together. They know the best place
to see the new sun so they said we will all stand together. Have
you never seen it before? The colours will be spectacular. Red
and pink and orange. It will seem like the sky is on fire.’
‘I will definitely come,’ I replied. I was carried away. If Biret
told me it was worth seeing, then I definitely wanted to see it.
‘And then we will look like those ancient ancestors who
gathered and waited for the sun, won’t we?’ I added. ‘Not much
has changed in thousands of years.’
‘No.’ she agreed.
‘Not much at all. It is still the same sun we look upon that our
ancestors saw all that way back. It is still the same mountains,
barely moved, over which Sol appeared. It is still the same fjord
in which we live. Much has changed in Norway and the world.
But it is still the same Nature and we should always respect her.’
Her words were beauty in my ears. I felt enchanted.
‘Is this Sami philosophy?’ I had to ask.
70 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

‘I am not sure. It’s what I feel. When I go to Kautokeino I will

learn if I feel this because I am Sami.’
‘I would love to see that city.’ I added.
‘Oh, then you should come and visit me. Then you could learn
about the language and culture too.’
‘I would . . . love that.’
I felt I could have gone to Kautokeino with Biret right then.
But instead she decided she was tired and it was late so she left
me.
My cabin felt very empty, suddenly. I had my solitude back. I
thought I could still detect Biret’s fragrance, though. Certainly
something reminded me of her after she had gone.
Now I had nothing more to my day but bed and rest.
I was ready to sleep contentedly. I had re-solved my problem,
no thanks to Odd, and I’d had the most wonderful conversation
with Biret. I felt that if I should worship anything, it should be
the sun.
I slept, with a smile on my face at first. I was getting used to
my cabin bed. It was comfortable.
But it was not an undisturbed sleep.
At some point in the night, I was awoken. A heavy breathing,
snorting noise from outside permeated my thin wooden walls.
What was that? The whale, surely. It was here again. I quickly
looked at my watch, which I could only just see by the light of
the moon and stars that had made its way through my windows.
 THIRD MEDITATION 71

3.25. Right, when they ask tomorrow, I will tell them that the whale
was back at precisely 3.25. Surely they will have to believe me then.
They know I am of sound mind.
Then there was a relatively high-pitched wail: its song. It
echoed around the steep, mountainous sides of the fjord, from
the dark depths of the water. Braving the cold of my cabin, I
jumped up from under the covers and looked out of the window.
But I saw nothing. What would there be to see? The whale
preferred it in there, swallowing the herring. The sound was all I
could expect to get.
So with that I climbed back into bed. Finally, the third day was
concluded. I heard more song from the fjord, but at some point I
was asleep once more.
72
 Fourth Meditation

I awoke on the fourth day to see heavy snow all around the cabin,
still falling. It was very hard again to get out from under the
covers, knowing that I would have at least an hour of cold as I
wrestled with the stove. And I saw that I was down to my last few
logs. I shouldn’t let temperature and inconvenience deflect me
from my chosen path, however. The new philosophy I had found
could withstand more than that, couldn’t it?
After my tea, and being sure the stove could continue to burn
without me, I set out, up to Petter’s house.
The hill was hard to climb. Fresh snow had fallen on top of ice
again, so it was a scramble. Sometimes I took a step forward and
then slid back down to where it began. I was glad no one was
watching; . . . I hoped no one was watching. It was undignified. I
eventually got to the house, out of breath. Petter was alone. The
others had gone out to church.
Petter took this as an opportunity to ask about my time so far.
He started asking if I had enough food and whether I had met
73
74 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

some of the others. But he steered then on to the subject of how

the work was going. Was I finding the solution to the problems I
had brought along with me?
Without mentioning the incident with Odd, I explained how
the week had progressed well so far. I had found some good
reasons in favour of my realist philosophy and was starting to
think I could answer the doubters.
‘It sounds like you were a doubter yourself, when you arrived.’
‘Yes,’ I conceded. ‘I’d had my doubts. And I wanted answers
that would satisfy my own troubled mind as much as anyone
else’s. I suppose I am here to find the solutions so that I can tell
myself not to doubt anymore.’
‘And you think you’ve found what you were looking for?’
‘Initially, I was looking for solitude. Thanks to you, I got it.
And then I hoped it would allow me to find a good position: a
firm foundation on which to rest my philosophy. I think I’ve got
it, and it is again thanks to you, even if less directly so.’
Petter was pleased. He said I could now just relax and enjoy
the peace and tranquillity in Bakkan. He thought I needed some
rest and relaxation. I had worked so hard over a very long time
and it had taken its toll. I looked frayed. The comment felt a bit
blunt of him; but I couldn’t deny that in these past few years I
had aged more rapidly. The grey hair and lines on my face
testified to that. When I looked in the mirror, I hardly recognised
the tired old man whom I saw staring back. And apart from
 FOURTH MEDITATION 75

looks, I felt my age when I scrambled up the hill from the cabin.
I was out of breath each time. My back was stiff. Would relaxation
arrest the process of decay, I considered? Or would it mean I was
just wasting some of the few remaining active days? Perhaps I
should just resign myself to being old.
Detecting that I was becoming maudlin, Petter tried to change
the subject again. He asked me to tell him about the new
discoveries I had made here, and he could see that my face
changed demeanour instantly.
Knowing that Odd would have talked to him, I elected to tell
Petter about the arguments I discovered yesterday.
I explained how science was premised on observation and
experiment, and these methods were justified by the success of
science: its usefulness. But all of observation, experiment, and
practical application depended on the reality of causation. The
fact that science worked, then, seemed the very justification of
the obvious assumption on which it must be based: that causation
is real.
‘So you think you’ve discovered the reality of something:
something that exists in the world and regardless of our views and
theories about it?’
‘Yes, exactly. And that is what I was looking for. Sceptics had
encouraged me to think that nothing was real independently of
our minds and the way we thought about things. Now I am sure
I can answer the sceptic.’
76 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

Petter mulled it over. I was making a bold claim. It is rare that

a philosopher professes to being sure of something. What does
that mean, anyway? That no possible argument could defeat it?
I got the sense that Petter was thinking not just about the
thesis I had presented to him, but also whether he should risk
challenging it. It was as if he didn’t want to disabuse me of my
beliefs.
I couldn’t help questioning. ‘Do you have any doubts about
my argument?’
‘No . . ., no,’ said Petter. ‘That all sounds right.’
He hesitated some more.
‘Please tell me,’ I pushed him. ‘There is nothing to fear from a
good philosophical discussion between friends.’
‘Well . . . I think you said something about there being a real
world irrespective of our theories about it.’
‘Yes. That kind of thing.’
‘Well, suppose I concede that causation is real. There are still
lots of discussions to be had. After all, many different things are
said about causation. There are countless theories of what it
really is. I presume only some of the things that are said are true.
Most are false.
‘So to say causation is real,’ he continued, ‘is not for you to tell
us much. What exactly is the thing that you are saying is real? It
seems to me, you have to tell us all about it: something substantial.
You know, as a philosopher, that I cannot tell you I agree with
 FOURTH MEDITATION 77

you that causation is real unless you tell me exactly what it is that
is real.’
This wasn’t an attack on my view, then, I judged. It seemed
more that he was asking me to fill out the account with detail:
explain what in the world causation is.
‘There is a view, for instance,’ he proceeded, ‘that by causation
we can mean nothing more than regular succession.
‘One kind of thing happens, and then another, and if we see
many cases of the first followed by the second, then we start to
think of the first as the cause of the second. You water your plants
and they grow. Is your belief that the watering caused the growth
nothing more than knowing that growth has always followed
watering?
‘Would that be causation enough for you?
‘Or what about another theory I could suggest? Perhaps there
is this kind of regular succession but you also know, in addition,
that sometimes you have gone away and the plants have not been
watered. When you came home, they had died. Is it causation
enough for you if it means that one thing happens, and then
another, but you believe that if the first thing had not occurred,
the second wouldn’t either? So you water your plant and it
remains alive but you also believe, based on some past experience,
that it wouldn’t live if you didn’t water it?’
I was starting to get the sense of Petter’s questioning. There
were many things causation could be. I needed to say which it
78 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

was. I also had to think about whether it mattered which, though.

Sure, there are many different theories of causation. Did I have to
narrow it down and say what kind of causation I believed in?
Would it be enough to say that causation is real, of which ever
type you believe in?

* * * * *

I had to go away and think this through. Petter’s questioning had

made me realise that, far from being able to sit back and enjoy
the rest of my stay in a relaxing manner, I did still have further
work to do.
‘Oh,’ I remembered to tell him. ‘The whale was back again last
night. Surely you heard it.’
‘. . . No,’ said Petter, to my huge disappointment.
‘Really? What about Marie? Or Ragnhild? Did they hear
it? Surely Solan heard it from his bedroom? He would have
heard it.’
‘I’m not sure,’ admitted Petter. ‘But no one mentioned this
morning that they had heard it. Usually we would talk about it
over breakfast, if we had.’
‘But no one said that they hadn’t heard it?’
‘No. No one said that.’
‘Alright. I’ll ask them when I see them. I’m sure I’m right. I
looked at my watch when it woke me up with its breathing and
song. It was 2.25 this morning. I checked.’
 FOURTH MEDITATION 79

‘It sounds like you are correct then,’ he admitted. ‘You are closer
to the sea than us. Maybe the whale is right beside your cabin
when you hear it. That would explain why we are not hearing it.’
That didn’t sound right to me. The whale was loud enough to
have been heard by everyone around the fjord. But I didn’t want
to push the matter further. He seemed to be allowing that I was
right. Or could be. Just leave it at that. But was he saying it just to
please me? I didn’t want him to do so. They should all have heard
it and should admit it to me. Were they trying to drive me mad,
conspiring to pretend that I alone could hear it?
I put on my outside clothes and set off back down the hill, the
wind driving snow into my face. It had become heavier now and
the loaded clouds were again blocking out what little morning
light there had been. If it carried on like this, I would not even
see the sun on Soldag.
Getting down the hill was less of a struggle than going up it. I
had learnt by now. But there was an added danger, in this snow
today, that I might sink to my waist. For the first time since I had
arrived, I couldn’t see over to the other side of the fjord. There
was a mist and heavy clouds full of snow hanging over us. The
covering was getting thicker on the ground as it fell. I tried to
settle down in my cabin but my mind was constantly drifting
away from philosophy. I watched the snowfall outside, fed the
stove, made some tea. The thoughts that I hoped solitude would
prompt remained shyly hidden.
80 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

I wondered if, perhaps, I lay down to rest then some ideas

would come to my mind, in a relaxed state. This I duly did and I
tried thinking about philosophy, truth, enlightenment, the nature
of causation, the state of reality and the world. Perhaps that
would have worked but I have to confess to my shame that I fell
asleep, realising this only when I awoke later in the cold and
dark.
I was getting my stove going again and saw I was down to my
last log. But just in time Solan and Ragnhild came down the hill
with a full sledge of new firewood. I pretended I had not been
sleeping. A few logs were too big for my stove entrance so
Ragnhild quickly chopped them in halves with the axe.
I asked if they had seen Biret today.
‘She’s not here,’ Ragnhild told me. ‘She is away for the day.’
That seemed sad to me. Why didn’t she tell me that she was
going away? I was hoping I would see her.
‘She will be here for Soldag, though,’ Ragnhild told me,
perhaps knowingly, as a consolation. ‘She will be at our dinner
party too.’
Excitement seemed to be mounting for Soldag. ‘We will get
solbolle, you know. Have you had them before?’, asked Solan.
‘No,’ I explained to them. ‘This is the first time I’ve visited at
this time of year. That’s a bun, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, you must have them. They are yellow like the sun too. We
only have them the week of Soldag and they are delicious.’
 FOURTH MEDITATION 81

I looked forward to that.

‘We will gather at ten in the morning,’ Ragnhild instructed me.
‘We have a place where we stand: a little rise on the way back to the
road. It’s where you get the best view when the sun appears between
the mountains. Then we eat the solbolle. Will you come, Ben?’
‘Mamma has been working on a new song on her guitar. It will
be really lovely. A song about the sun.’
Did I need to go? I wasn’t so sure. I can see the sun every
single day, where I live back home. It didn’t seem urgent that I
attend. What if I was on the verge of a major breakthrough?
‘Biret is coming, and everyone,’ Solan confirmed.
‘Yes, I will come,’ I finally declared. ‘I will be there at ten.’
‘Klokka ti,’ Ragnhild confirmed, playfully teaching me
Norwegian.
The two adolescents made sure my stove was burning properly,
fuelled by the new supply of wood. They showed me how to
recognise birch, the bark of which was especially good for catching
the flames. The cabin warmed up though outside was dark and
windy. My abode was still shaking at times and I could see out of
my window that the snow passing immediately outside was again
travelling near-horizontally.

* * * * *

After they were gone, I sat down to work, determined that I

would make some progress. I had only two more days after this
82 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

so could not afford to waste any more time. And Petter had given
me a new challenge.
I wondered, did it really matter what we thought causation
was, as long as it was something objective and real in the world?
A constant regularity is real. It is there whether we know it or
not. So if one thing always is followed by another, then that is an
instance of causation regardless of what I know and think. That
ought to satisfy my requirement of realism.
Or so I thought.
My mind drifted back over some of the conversations I’d had
during these past few days and some of the sights I had
experienced out here in nature.
Biret had told me about the return of the sun, and whether its
reappearance year after year was a good enough reason to expect
it to return the next. She had given me a good argument why it
might not be. Sometimes, the more something happens, the less
likely it is to happen another time. So how do we know whether
the return of the sun, or any other regularity in nature, is the sort
of thing that should be repeated, or not that sort of thing?
I thought again of my first night and how impressed I had
been when I initially saw Ragnhild chopping wood. I was sure
that her actions really did make the wood fly asunder. It was not
merely that she struck it and then it fell apart. There was a
connection between the two facts: a strong connection. Didn’t
the force of the axe actually break the wood? And, yes, I think
 FOURTH MEDITATION 83

that had she not struck it a blow, then it would not have fallen
apart. But this is again because the axe made it break. It caused
the result.
Causes make a difference, I can concur. But they make a
difference because they are causes; not the other way around.
This seemed to be a problem with philosophical analysis. We can
discover something that is true of causation, or whatever else is
the subject, and then say that the subject is nothing more than
that thing. But it is an illusion. Causes are difference-makers
because they are causes: that is the order of explanation.
I then remembered my irritating conversation with Odd.
He had tried to tell me that science could do without any
causation at all. I saw that science needed causation in order to
work.
Now suppose it was said that the causation that science invoked,
because it sought to avoid all metaphysical commitments, was
restricted to the sort of causation Petter had mentioned before.
Some scientists might like that view because it would mean that
science could all be understood in terms of observable data.
Causal claims would be entirely amenable to scientific scrutiny. To
say that A causes B means nothing more than that every instance
of A is followed by an instance of B, but with no other mysterious
‘connection’ or ‘real power’ between any of the instances.
Then to say that this particular thing is a cause of that
particular thing is just to say that the first is similar to one group
84 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

of things, and the second is similar to another group of things,

and where every instance of the first kind of thing is followed by
an instance of the second kind of thing.
Could I really point to any absurdity in this view? Would it
not be perfectly consistent, as a theory of causation, as long as
one is willing to accept its consequences? I did not like this view,
but where was the argument against it?
I thought again. Where would that leave science? What if a
scientist said ‘all right, I admit, the whole of the science that I
practice is premised on the idea of causation. But what I mean
by causation is what is perfectly available to observation; for
instance, that every A is followed by a B. Nothing more: . . . no
metaphysical, unobservable connection between one thing and
another.’ Could I refute that position?
I thought that I could. Or I could at least prove that unless one
accepted a stronger theory of causation, of the kind I wanted,
then science was left in no better position than I found it was in
yesterday: struggling to explain itself, to explain how it works,
how it succeeds.
I noted that causation was vital in at least three essential
components of science. It was needed to explain how an
experimental intervention was possible, it was needed to explain
how observation was possible, and it was needed to explain
how the findings of science could be put to use. None of these
things seemed to work unless we allowed that causation was
 FOURTH MEDITATION 85

real and brought a connection between some things and not

others.
My opponent might at this stage say that, yes, causation is
required by all these aspects of science, but what he means by
causation, and what we all ought to mean by it, is that the first
kind of thing is regularly followed by the second kind of thing.
The reasoning was subtle here but I thought I could defeat the
position.
We could start with the notion of intervention again. The
experimenter introduces a change into a situation and sees what
changes with it. I have said that this looks like a causal claim.
Now if one granted this, but then said that causation was nothing
more than the occurrence of a regularity, it would not really be
accepting the causal requirement of science at all.
I might say that the experimenter pulls a lever and it releases
a peanut to a monkey. It is the job of the experimenter to do this.
But now you ask me to believe that the experimenter’s pulling of
the lever didn’t really release the peanut, because you think such
an idea appeals to some mysterious link between events. So you
tell me that it means nothing more than that the lever goes down
and a peanut is released; and that whenever the lever is down a
peanut is released. This is just some regular behaviour of this
part of the universe, but unconnected.
I think I can say to you that this is still not enough. Unless you
grant me that there is some compulsion – some production –
86 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

in causation, then it is not enough for us to say that the

experimenter pulling the lever is making the peanut fall. In that
case, the experimenter is still not doing any job. He does not
justify his salary or his research grant. Without any compulsion
in causation, then it seems that anything could follow anything
and it is only our good fortune that we live in a world where it
doesn’t. But, again, my opponent tells me that we are just lucky
that our world exhibits a pattern of events even though, still,
anything could follow anything else.
Next, to observation. Suppose that our belief was not that the
object in front of the eyes caused a perception that resembled it,
such as when a cat causes a cat-like perception. Instead, it merely
happens by coincidence that when a cat stands in front of you, it
is accompanied by a cat-like perception. You may suppose, if you
wish, that this just-so-happens each time a cat wanders by. But, I
ask you, would this really qualify as a perception? And would it
be an adequate basis for empirical science?
Let me explain. I once foolishly allowed myself to become so
tired with work that my mind was beyond all reason. I recall that
I hallucinated a bicycle in front of me. Now suppose, just by
coincidence, that at the moment I hallucinated there actually had
been a bicycle in front of me and it was one that my hallucination
resembled. Wouldn’t we say that this did not qualify as an
observation of a bicycle, even though I was thinking there was a
bicycle in front of me exactly like that one?
 FOURTH MEDITATION 87

I think it would not count as a perception of the bicycle. I

note, for instance, that if the real bicycle had moved off to the left,
my hallucinated bicycle need not have done so at all. What this
shows is that my belief that I saw a bicycle was caused by the
hallucination and not the bicycle; hence, it is not a perception of
the bicycle because it would not be responsive to changes in the
bicycle, as we think a real observation should be.
Even if one sets that matter aside, with such an account of
causation I maintain that any such observation on these terms is
inadequate for science. If nothing about the object observed is
responsible – through producing it – for the observation, then
we cannot base science upon it. There would be no reason why, if
everything that is A is followed by something that is B, the next
thing that is A would also be B. There would then be no reason to
say that an ‘observation of a cat’ provided any evidence at all of
there being a cat in front of you. The uncertainty of any such
observation would surely be an inadequate basis on which to rest
science.
Think of it this way. Every time a cat-like observation has
been made, a cat was in the vicinity. You might try to protest that
the only reason I think that the cat had to cause the cat-like
observation was simply that on each occasion someone had the
cat-like observation, a cat was in front of him or her. But given
that the cat didn’t produce the observation, and didn’t need to,
how can we have any confidence that this happy coincidence will
88 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

continue? At any such point where it ceases to do so, we are truly

lost and detached from all reality.
And I would like to note one final point on this issue. We
of course, were we so unfortunate as to be in this position,
have no means whatsoever of verifying that a cat really was
in front of us when we had a cat-like observation. Given that
all we have is the observation, then one cannot check on any
occasion whether the observation and the world matched. If
they ceased to do so, we would have no way of knowing directly.
We would have to infer it from the fact that the world did not
behave the way we expected it to behave, on the basis of what we
had seen.
Finally, I said that the success of science required that there be
causation in the world. By this, I meant that we can use scientific
findings to manipulate the world to our own wishes. Science
has a pay-off, in inventions, technologies, new processes and
medicines, that make its pursuit ultimately worth the while.
Unless there was causation, then science’s only utility would be
that it provided us with understanding. But I’d add that I don’t
see how it could even deliver understanding other than by
discovery and explanation of the various causal processes to be
found in the world.
The same sort of reasoning that I have already used strikes
against this point too. If causation involved no actual production,
but merely a regularity of one thing that happens to be followed
 FOURTH MEDITATION 89

by another, then it is hard to see that science would really be

worth pursuing.
It is one thing to say that the world has just happened to
exhibit a fortunate regularity, such as the appearance of sunlight
being invariably accompanied by warmth. But now we are
talking about our own actions, whereby we introduce changes
into the natural order. If causation was a mere coincidence of
one thing followed by another, there would be no reason at all to
assume that a human operation, performed upon the world,
would be followed by anything in particular. Thus, science could
have recorded that the eating of cabbages was followed by good
health. But if there is only this accompaniment without genuine
production, then I would have no basis on which to eat cabbages
if I was in want of good health.
I was able to conclude, and then record in my notebook, that
this line of reasoning supported an account of causation as
involving a notion of genuine production. It seemed to me that it
could not be analysed away into other, non-causal terms, such as
regularity, without such arguments resurfacing.
Of course, regularity is not the only available theory of
causation and so it remained to be seen whether I could follow
similarly destructive chains of reasoning against all such theories.
I vowed I would do that. But I thought I had already established
a conclusion strong enough; namely, that any account of
causation that did not contain a commitment to the production
90 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

of an effect by its cause would not provide an adequate basis for

the conduct of science.

* * * * *

The day’s work was done. I was sure of it, and I had nothing else
I could do. There was no visitor. If Biret was here to call on me, it
would be different. We could discuss the sun or Sami culture. I
wouldn’t mind what we talked about. It was clear that no one
would come as the night was so cold, wild and windy. The cabin
rattled.
I decided I would try to stay warm in my bed and sit and
think about what else I could consider. I had two more days left,
including Soldag. Would I be able to use them well? Would there
be any more challenges to my newfound sense of certainty? Was
it definitely now secure?
I had some thoughts about topics for tomorrow, and the day
after that. As had happened earlier in the afternoon, however, I
started to feel drowsy. I do not think I was yet adapted to this
near-constant darkness. There was light, but only for a short
time, and none of it direct. My body was telling me to sleep: to
hibernate almost. Like the locals, I too was now looking forward
to Soldag. I wanted to feel some sun on my face. Maybe that
would give me more life and optimism.
I did sleep for a time but then woke at some point in the night.
Perhaps it was just because I had slept so much during the day.
 FOURTH MEDITATION 91

But I also had a distinct feeling of oddness, like something

significant was happening.
I listened but could hear nothing. That was important. When
I had gone to sleep, there was a howling wind and the cabin was
creaking. Now there was nothing. Apparently the storm had
blown itself out.
I opened my eyes and noticed that it was not as dark as
previous nights. Without a candle or stove to light my way, it had
been little better than black. But now I could see around the
cabin. There was light, though it was light that had a tinge. I got
up and looked through the small window in the door.
Up in the sky was a green hazy colour stretching right the way
across the sky: a rough thick band of light from one side to the
other. Nordlys. Northern Lights.
I grabbed my boots quickly. They were cold and damp when I
put my stockinged feet inside them. No matter. I had to go and
see this directly. My coat went over my night clothes and I was
soon out to confront this new and – I have to confess – awe-
inspiring sight.
The snow clouds had dissipated, dropping their burden onto
the village and beyond. Instead, the sky was clear and now calm.
I could see every star, so bright. But there was also the strangest
phenomenon of light superimposed across the night sky. It was
ghostly, ethereal.
I thought I could see exactly where it was and its shape. But
92 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

when I looked back along the band, it had changed. I might say
that it danced; and yet I saw no movement. All I can report is that
each time I looked at it, it seemed different: constantly altered,
but without conveying any sense of change. For that reason, it
seemed an impossible object – a lightshow designed by an artist
of incredible worlds. I had once understood what causes an
aurora borealis. I no longer remembered. But that did not matter.
I simply enjoyed the wonder of the effect.
I stood and stared until it seemed to fade. For a time, I was not
sure whether it was there or not anymore.
But when I definitely could not see any more, I realised I was
shivering. I had not sensed how cold I had been, when immersed
in my visual experience. It was bitterly cold. My chin was numb.
But it was easily worth braving the freeze for that show of light
amid all this darkness.
 Fifth Meditation

One day until Soldag! The anticipation was mounting for the
return of the sun. Petter and Marie went off to buy food for the
dinner. I saw both Marie and Inger talking that morning and
neither of them admitted when I interrupted that they heard the
whale a few nights ago. I had to forget that for now. It sounded
like Soldag would be a day of little reclusion so I needed to make
the most of today. I wondered if Biret was back in the village yet
but nobody had seen her. No one was too impressed that I had
seen Northern Lights. They get it many nights in the winter, as
long as the sky is clear.
I was starting to feel inspired. I’d already had a beautiful stay,
what with the aurora borealis and hearing the whale, so I eagerly
set down to work. Why shouldn’t I be ambitious, I thought. I had
established the existence of one aspect of objective reality but
what about other things? Would I be able to explain and justify
the existence of these? Could I prove their reality too? A world

93
94 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

containing just causation would be a strange one after all. Don’t

we need something that does the causing and something that is
caused? Until I had said what those are, I suspect I still hadn’t
proven enough.
The world is not just about causes. It contains tables and
chairs, trees, atoms, plants, animals and boats. These are kinds of
thing and they all have particular instances, such as the chair in
my cabin, the boat that I can see out on Kaldfjord, Petter the
individual man.
As well as these things, or individual objects, we also know of
another kind of ‘thing’: redness, roundness, squareness, hotness,
tallness, heaviness. These are features or properties of the first
kind of thing. Hence, a man might be tall but a boat can be tall
too. Tallness could be a property that the man and the boat share.
I’m tempted to say that while each particular, such as a man, can
be only at one place at a time, a property such as tallness can have
many instances: in a ship, a tree, a building.
The world doesn’t contain just particulars, their properties, and
causation between them, however. When I stand back and look at
the world, I have to admit that it contains a rich array of kinds of
thing. There are events, for example, such as the rising of the sun.
This is a happening. And for there to be events such as this, there
must be an even more general category, which is change.
Clearly, we live in a world in which there are changes, for
example when a stove that was cold then becomes hot. When we
 FIFTH MEDITATION 95

accept that there are changes and events, we should also allow
that there are processes too. One might think that a process is
just a very long event, such as the growth of a child into an adult.
But we can be more exact than that. A process seems to mean
that there is a series of events that must occur in a particular
sequence and for a particular outcome. Hence, there are multiple
events in a process but they cannot occur in any old order. The
order of occurrence is essential. Hence, the child begins to grow
and his body develops. When his skull reaches a certain size, he
loses his baby teeth and they are replaced by adult teeth. Then he
starts to grow hair on his face and body and his voice deepens.
Similarly in women there are other changes. I can think of
further processes too, such as photosynthesis or the life cycle of
a butterfly. And away from the natural world, there is the passage
of a bill into legislation or the proper running of an election.
These are processes too.
My list is not exhaustive but I wanted a sense of the richness
of our world: that there are many categories of thing. And what
can I say to justify their real existence, as well as the real existence
of causation?
I left this question hanging and decided to take a break.
Thinking cannot be rushed and it cannot be forced either. There
were ample chores for me to do in and around the cabin. I tidied,
chopped some strips of kindling off a plank of wood with my
Sami knife, put all the waste into one bag. But while doing this,
96 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

I allowed my mind to wander freely, letting it discover its own

associations. I continued thinking this way as I ate some lunch,
by the end of which I thought I had some answers.

* * * * *

We know of things only because they affect us. They causally

relate to us. Perhaps, then, this helps us understand what it is to
be. To be is to be causally relatable.
I needed to develop this thought. I know of the objects
around me because they are able to affect my senses. To be
real, I do not think that they must actually affect my senses.
That would suggest that something was real only when it was
being perceived, which would be absurd. I accept the existence
of many things that are unperceived. What qualifies something
as real is that it can or could be perceived, if in the right
situation, such as in daylight, and if a perceiver is present.
Whether it is actually perceived, therefore, depends on accident
of circumstance.
I see also that to perceive is merely one special case of being
causally affected by something. We are sentient beings, which
means that some of the effects other things have on us result in a
conscious experience, as in the cases of seeing, hearing, touching,
and so on. But there are other effects that things have on me,
which I might not perceive. The moon exerts a small gravitational
attraction on me, for example, but I am not aware of it. I can feel
 FIFTH MEDITATION 97

food filling my stomach but I cannot feel it giving me vitamins.

And there could be one thing heating me and another cooling
me in equal measure but I have no experience of either because
my temperature remains the same.
The grounds for something’s existence shouldn’t be restricted
to the perceptual effects on us, then. If something has other kinds
of effects then it ought to be taken as a sufficient basis for that
thing’s being.
I see, therefore, that we should not attend to only one kind of
effect. And we should also not discriminate in saying that the
effect in question has to be upon us: we human beings. Would
it matter if an object had its effect on some other thing,
including another inanimate object? Suppose that on top of a
stove there was resting an iron bar. Because the stove is hot,
the iron bar expands. I am happy to assume that no one is there
to witness this and, as the stove dies out, the iron bar returns to
its regular size. In a way, we can think of it as if the iron bar
perceives the stove in that it was causally affected by it. The stove
produced a change in the iron bar. There was of course no
conscious experience of the stove within the iron bar, but no
matter.
This seems adequate grounds on which to say that the stove
was real; namely that it was able to causally affect another thing.
Again, it need not actually have expanded the iron bar. It was
pure accident, let us suppose, that one was placed upon it. And if
98 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

it had not been, no such effect would have occurred. I am content

to grant the reality of the stove simply by virtue that it was able
to affect an iron bar, or some other object that might have been
found within its locale.
To be real perhaps is also not solely a matter of having effects.
We can just as well consider something real if it is able to be
affected. A thing can be a cause but it can also be caused.
The stove that expanded the iron bar was also affected when I
lit it. I acted upon the stove by placing paper, and kindling and
logs inside it and lighting it with a match. I caused it to light. But
I could not causally act upon something that did not exist. To be
affected by something else, then, is also sufficient for us to say
that the thing exists.
I might argue, then, that anything is real just in case it is able
to affect something else, or to be affected, in however small a
degree and in any way.
The same account could be given for all the things that I
listed above. This claim applies to particular properties, events,
processes, and so on. If we take properties, we can see that to be
a property is to be able to affect some other thing. Something
being blue means that it is able to cause a certain sensation in an
observer. That something is hot means that it is able to expand an
iron bar. And that allows me, furthermore, to give an account of
what it is for properties to be of the same kind. Different instances
are of the same property when they are able to produce the same
 FIFTH MEDITATION 99

effects. Hence, anything that is spherical will tend to roll in a

straight line down a slope. If something was not disposed to
behave in this way, we would not call it spherical.
All these things have a causal essence. Their ability to cause, in
response to their own causes, is what makes them what they are.
I have not proven that these things exist, then, but in establishing
the real existence of causation, I have laid the groundwork for
them. I have provided the reality of that which is their essence.
And I have also established a reasonable criterion for the
existence of something. My study of causation – its existence and
nature – is not for nothing, therefore. It is now shown to be one
of the most central concepts of all – possibly the most central for
the existence of everything else. For without causation, it seems I
cannot understand the reality of anything.

* * * * *

When one has undertaken deep thought and emerged from it

with a modicum of satisfaction, one finds an inner peace and
tranquillity that virtually matches the serenity of an Arctic fjord.
I was thus in a state of complete relaxation as I finished my
meditation and practically oblivious to my entire surroundings.
I say this so that it can be understood what shock I next felt
when confronted with a most ghastly and horrific sight. At the
small window in my door appeared a grim and ghoulish visage:
an old man staring right at me with such a pale, blank and
100 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

unfriendly expression that I thought at first this might be a

corpse propped against my cabin. A shiver ran through my body,
starting at the base of my spine and travelling upwards such that
when it reached my neck I gave out an involuntary and most
undignified shriek. I had been taken completely off-guard and
had none of the composure that I like to present to the outside
world. I might have thought this was a troll, here to haunt me, but
when he opened the door and I could see the full outline of his
body, I saw that it was a regular human being and a man, still
alive for now.
He nodded his head slightly in my direction; not quite a bow.
‘I am Bård,’ he announced, ‘Bård Eriksen.’ So I reciprocated.
‘Benedict Chilwell.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I heard that Bakkan had a visitor and I have
seen the light in your cabin.’
‘I see,’ I replied.
‘I live in the grey house: the furthest away.’
Now I understood. I was meeting the inhabitant of the final
house in Bakkan.
‘Please come in and let us close the door,’ I urged, as I could
feel the heat from my stove being sucked outside. For all I knew,
it was the man himself taking it away, rather than the Nordic air,
but I risked inviting him in nonetheless.
‘Sit, please. It’s so nice to meet someone else who lives in
Bakkan.’
 FIFTH MEDITATION 101

I hoped that playing the polite host might break the stern face
of this man, which seemed not even to have moved while he was
speaking. But he remained emotionless as he sat down on my
spare chair.
‘I hear you are a philosopher.’
‘Yes, I am,’ I told Bård. ‘I have been to Bakkan before, though
never to stay. That might be why we haven’t met.’
‘That’s not it,’ he said, and left a pause.
What surprised me about this visitation – and that is a word I
have chosen carefully – is that he had not yet made any attempt
to explain why he had come. What did he want from being here?
He had just arrived, and sat.
But that had not been the end. He resumed his reply.
‘I have lived here only two months. I am new to the village.’
‘Ah, I see. It is a year since I have last been here so, no, we could
not have met.’ I remembered that Petter and Marie had told me
when I arrived that there was this new resident.
As there was nothing further offered on his part but silence, I
had to break it at the point it became uncomfortable.
‘That means you will not have seen the sun since you have
lived here; . . . unless you have travelled away from the village.’
‘No. I have not travelled away from the village.’
I really could believe that his skin had not been touched by
the sun for two months. It looked as white as the snow.
‘Do you like living in Bakkan?’ I asked.
102 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

‘Yes.’
Silence.
I needed to ask an open question, so that he couldn’t answer
in one word.
‘What do you like about it here?’
‘The silence.’
I thought carefully about my next question; indeed, whether I
should ask one at all. For all I knew, he could have happily sat
there all day. But I think I needed to move him along.
‘And what did you do before you came to Bakkan?’
‘I was prest: a vicar, a priest, at a town inland. I am retired now.’
‘Ah, I see. That explains it.’
‘Explains what?’ Bård said, a little sharply.
Recovering, I answered ‘I mean it just explains why you have
only now come to Bakkan.’
To prevent any further embarrassment, I quickly added ‘And
are you here in Bakkan alone, or with family?’
‘I am alone. All alone. My wife died three years ago. When I
retired, I decided I should move away, to enjoy the sea and the
nature.’
Bakkan certainly gave him sea and nature but I had yet to see
any sign that he was enjoying it.
I filled some of the pauses by confirming that I was a
philosopher, here to do a little thinking. For the first time, he
seemed to have some interest in me.
 FIFTH MEDITATION 103

‘I’d heard this. And did you make any new discoveries?’
‘I think I did, yes.’
I was almost ready to tell the retired priest about my thinking
during the week. There was every indication that he would sit
and listen, if only because I could not imagine him ever getting
up and leaving. But more footsteps approached.

* * * * *

I looked out and saw Biret.

‘Biret, please come in,’ I called. ‘How nice that you are back. I
heard that you had been away.’
Biret entered and I held her hand. Not quite a handshake; a
little more. She nodded towards Bård and said his name. He gave
the faintest nod back but did not speak.
‘Well, I can see that you have company already,’ she said. ‘I
should not stop you two from talking. You must have very
important matters to discuss.’
With that, she made to leave. I wanted to call out ‘No, please
stay!’ But I didn’t. I wasn’t sure that it was appropriate and she
was already out of the door while I was still deliberating. I was
too slow to act.
Damn this Bård! I had not seen Biret all yesterday and now he
had driven her away. Damn him!

* * * * *
104 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

I thought we had better get this conversation over with as soon

as possible.
I launched into a mini-lecture.
‘Yes. I discovered that the most fundamental thing in the
universe is causation. What it is to exist is to be causally connected
to other things, in the sense that everything is interrelated.
Things are what they are in virtue of what they are able to cause.
Furthermore, causation is the very basis of science. There could
be no science without it, as it has to presuppose that our
observations are caused by the world and that we are able to
intervene and change things. But I found that this was all very
well and not merely a presupposition because there is a proof
that causation has to be real and it starts only from the premise
that we are able to think. If there is thought then there is language,
if there is language then there is society, and if there is society
then there is causation. So the argument goes through like that,
you see. I could go into the detail of that argument but it might
bore you.’
I think Bård had already detected the annoyance in my tone.
‘You seem very sure of the power of your reason,’ he
began. ‘But I think we can never be quite so sure. Can we ever
really say that we have the capacity to grasp the wonder of this
universe?
‘The sun will come back tomorrow at one minute after ten. We
can depend on this. And when people tell me that this wonderful
 FIFTH MEDITATION 105

world all came about because of a huge explosion, a big bang, if

you like, I simply cannot believe that order would have come
from such chaos. There are forces at work that we cannot
understand. These are supernatural forces – beyond both science
and reason – that shaped the development of our universe.
‘Your rationality was given to you by your maker but do not
imagine that it gives you even one billionth of the understanding
that the maker hath. Your “proof ” is nothing to Him. You use
only the logic that He has given you. And you must admit that
there is nothing eternally true about that logic. It is based on
certain assumptions that themselves cannot be demonstrated,
only accepted or denied. So nothing is as certain as you
philosophers would pretend to each other. Every proof you claim
is built on sand.’
Once more, I had to try my best to show no anger. I did not
want Petter to be in dispute with his neighbour over me. In two
days I would be gone, and this silly vicar would be of no matter
to me then.
I composed myself.
‘I understand your thinking, perhaps more than you expect,’ I
began, it being rhetorically useful to admit the reasonableness of
your opponent’s position at the start of its destruction. ‘You are
right that every system of logic rests upon a set of axioms that
themselves have no proof, though we believe them to have an
intuitive appeal.
106 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

‘But while it is right that we should have a healthy sceptical

attitude to any claim of human knowledge, I think that this
should extend also to religious belief: perhaps even more so.
‘You tell me that I have a maker, but what is this being? If you
say that he is supernatural, then I do not know how we could
have any reason to believe in him. He is outside of space and
time, so I have been told, but then that means that he cannot
interact with anything we know. He cannot have effects in the
natural world, so I do not think we have any reason to believe in
him’.
‘Of course He has had effects in the natural world,’ Bård
retorted. ‘What about His miracles? What about the act of
Creation? The existence of the world is evidence of God. It is the
effect of His benevolence and continuing providence’.
I really could not see the point of maintaining this conversation
any longer.
‘All I know is the world around me that I can see and touch
and understand with my reason,’ I said, but it was a weak reply.
‘Now I really must resume my studies,’ I told him, though it
was already getting late and I doubted very much that I would sit
and do any more work.
He got up to leave but then turned and looked back.
‘Just one final thought for you before I leave. Heed it well.
You spoke then of what you can see, touch and understand. I
can see that you have carnal desires in your mind, skjødets lyst.
 FIFTH MEDITATION 107

I urge you: be careful what you touch. Do not forget the danger
of the Huldra.’
With that he was gone.
It was one of the strangest visits I’d ever had in my life. If he
finds people so difficult, why call on them?
I shouted out: ‘If God did not exist, what difference would it
make?’ But he had already gone back up the hill and my words
were lost to him.

* * * * *

Each day so far had seen at least one twist of fortune. I was
in despair but then found new hope, or I had started the day
well only to encounter a new difficulty. Today was one that
started well, and I was pleased with my findings, only to have
this very strange fellow appear at my door and cause all that
trouble.
I could just imagine that he had been watching me all week so
far, waiting until he heard news that I was happy and making
good progress, and choosing that exact moment to descend on
me and stifle my joy. How can he call himself a man of God and
then go around spreading such misery? He seemed the sort of
man who would go to a birthday party just to pop the children’s
balloons.
Still, no matter, I thought. Tomorrow was Soldag. The sun
would be back. Biret would be here, and there would also be
108 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

dinner with Petter and his family. I would try to make the most
of this special day, my last in Bakkan.
I was calmed when I looked out through the window to see
the fjord by moonlight, the small glimmer from houses opposite,
and the white mountains beyond. A modest fishing boat returned
to its base at the end of the fjord, gliding slowly down the centre
of the water. What seemed a whole minute after it passed, the
disturbed water from its trail started lapping at the rugged shore,
just outside my cabin.
Bård had shattered my peace; now I must try slowly to
regain it.
I was considering undressing in readiness to take to my bed,
yet I heard footsteps approaching once again. If that was Bård
coming back for more argument then he was in for a fight. Or
perhaps it was Odd. My tension built but was then quickly
released when Biret’s face appeared at my door.
‘Please, come,’ I called, with relief. ‘I’m so glad you came back.’
‘I didn’t want to see you while you were talking with Bård,’ she
said.
‘Oh, I would much rather have spoken to you than him. He
was so dull trying to tell me that philosophy was of no use. I
didn’t want to hear that. Tell me, where have you been?’
Biret proceeded to tell me of what she had done the previous
day. She’d been to visit a man in Tromsø who represented a Sami
college in Kautokeino. After speaking with him, she thought she
 FIFTH MEDITATION 109

would definitely go there to study. He had been very welcoming

towards her and told her how the people in the town would be
very friendly. She would be moving as soon as possible. Almost
everyone there spoke Sami so she hoped she would pick it up in
no time.
‘So when next I come to Bakkan, you will have left,’ I pointed
out.
‘Yes, so you should come see me in Kautokeino.’ That was the
answer I would have wanted.
‘I brought you a night-time drink, if you would like one,’ she
added, and with that produced a bottle of red wine and two
glasses. I couldn’t refuse. This would help me relax and unwind
after Bård’s unwelcome intrusion.
‘It was really nice of you to come back, and to bring us this
bottle of wine to share.’ I hoped she understood the depth of my
appreciation.
We talked and we drank. There could have been no more
romantic light than the one we had that night, from the
moonlight, the candle and the stove. I felt lost in her eyes and I
hung on to her words.
It became warm. It was the longest she had stayed here with me
and she took off her outside clothes revealing another colourful
dress that I liked. In this climate, we were each revealing little of
our bodies to the air but her dress was low enough to uncover the
smooth and silky skin on her neck and collar bones . . .
110 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

Was I an old fool to imagine that she would have any interest
in me at all, beyond theories I could tell her about the sun and
science and what is truth? Perhaps she saw me as a wise old bird;
surely nothing more than that.
Still, I would enjoy the conversation and an intimate evening
in my small cabin with a beautiful young lady. Our backgrounds
were worlds apart. We must have seemed equally exotic to the
other.
But a connection between two people can transcend national
and cultural boundaries. That night, we simply were two human
beings. Age, occupation and country did not divide us. I wanted
to hear about her life and she about mine. We were both naturally
reserved, but perhaps that makes it easier when you are both
alike in such temperament. The bottle contained enough for
three glasses apiece, after which there was no doubt that we were
relaxed enough in each other’s presence to continue this into the
early hours of Soldag.
 Sixth Meditation

Soldag!
After Biret left I was filled with joy and inspired to bring my
thinking to completion. I still felt in need of closure. As much as
I had found Bård Eriksen’s argument annoying, I accepted that
something was needed to round off my position and make it
immune to the kinds of outside influence of which he spoke.
Philosophy would have to wait today, however. Due to the
position of the mountains, the sun would appear a minute after
ten o’clock and if I was to see it I had to wash, up in the house,
and breakfast so as to make sure I was at the vantage-point on
time. I remembered there was said to be a slight rise in the land
as the path started back towards the road and which, I was told,
was the best place to see the sun first show itself and shine on
Bakkan soil again.
The sky was clear, luckily. A few days earlier it was so heavy
with snow that the sun would not have penetrated. Our last few

111
112 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

days had seen the skies empty their contents on us. They had
nothing left to give so the view was unimpeded. This also meant
that the day was cold, possibly the coldest since my arrival. The
snow that had been soft and slippery the day before was now
crunchy underfoot, and thus easier to negotiate as I went back
down to my temporary lodging.
At five minutes to the hour, I set out from my cabin, less
fearful of my ascent up the hill. The others were already there:
Petter, Marie, Ragnhild and Solan, Inger and Odd, and Biret. Just
after me, Bård also appeared, carrying the same long, stony face.
Petter welcomed me. ‘Have some coffee and solbolle,’ he
suggested. The coffee was dispensed from a thermos flask and we
all had some to help us keep warm.
‘The sun should appear in two minutes,’ he said, after a quick
glance at his watch. The solbolle were little cakes but with a touch
of yellow custard showing on the top, said to look like the sun,
but only at a stretch.
I took the coffee and went and said good morning to Biret.
She smiled but then had to go and speak to Odd and Inger.
Something about firewood, maybe, but it was in Norwegian. I
tried to listen but couldn’t make it out.
Solan and Ragnhild came up to me. ‘Keep looking,’ said Solan.
‘It is starting to appear.’
In the distance I could see the gap, like a valley, formed
between two high mountains. Above it in the sky was some faint
 SIXTH MEDITATION 113

and diffuse cloud, topping off the space and making it into a

roughly discernible triangle. This was now filled with a bright
yellow-orange, merging almost into red at the fringe where the
light met the cloud. The sky was aflame: the colour of my stove. It
made the cloud above it all shades of blue, purple, orange.
Suddenly, it burst over the top of the horizon, with an instantly
physical impact on me. I had to take two steps back.
The sun, Sol, was here: a ball of flame some 93 million miles
away and giver of life on earth. I was . . . blinded by its brilliance,
but also its beauty, and had to look away quickly.
It was so bright that no one could stare at it directly, but by
averting our eyes just a few degrees to the left or right, we could
all appreciate its splendour, even if to a slightly lesser extent than
the truth.
How the light played tricks as it shone through the clouds,
producing a kaleidoscopic panorama the scale of which was
impossible to quantify or comprehend. The solar system was vast
and we were tiny.
I looked back and around at my companions and saw that
they were as transfixed as I had been. Even the miserable Bård
looked in awe. I saw the sun light up his face and it moved for the
first time. His lips pulled back slightly, showing his teeth. Was
this a smile? Was he merely squinting in the face of bright light?
Odd and Inger stood close together, one arm around the
other. They both were scientists, from different fields. Was it the
114 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

marvel of science that they beheld? Or were they captivated by

an irreducibly aesthetic experience?
The sun shone on Petter and his family. He had been such
a good friend to me. We had met at academic conferences over
a number of years. Shared philosophical interests had brought
us into contact. But now it was more than a professional relation-
ship. We enjoyed each other’s calm company: one of the purest
friendships. So many others were rivals. Petter was not. He
understood me as well as he understood my philosophy. He
seemed accepting of both.
Marie was his rock. How I would like a Marie. She was a strong
and capable woman, who coped as well out in the nature around
Bakkan as anyone. But I always felt that their partnership came
first, both in his mind and hers, and perhaps this was why they
had raised two such beautiful, trusting and confident children.
Ragnhild was on the verge of full womanhood but seemingly
with no fear of the big world outside this tiny settlement. Was
that due only to ignorance of it? And Solan looked most delighted
to see the sun again: the sun after which he was named.
Everyone on this planet, whether they come from the tiniest
village or the biggest city, whether they be Christian, Muslim,
Jew, Buddhist or atheist, looked upon this same sun. It told us
that there was only one truth.
Finally, I set my eyes upon the gaze of Biret. She had youth on
her side and plans for what to do with her life. Her name marked
 SIXTH MEDITATION 115

her out as Sami in a land where that was no advantage, her

parents having taken her away from Finnmark. Would she find
answers to personal struggles by returning to her spiritual home?
And what, I feared, if those answers were not the ones she
wanted? How then would her dreams be fulfilled? I saw her
natural beauty glow in the heavenly illumination. But would that
beauty serve her well, or only bring her to the attention of
hopeless men like me?
‘It starts to go,’ commented Solan, all too soon.
The sun moved closer to the next mountain, with mere
seconds of its direct shine left for us today. I followed its radiant
light out from the centre, through the clouds and down our fjord.
Its beams hit the water, though it would be many days before it
warmed its icy state.
And . . . was that . . .? I thought I saw something. I thought I
saw it.
Was it?
Yes.
Just below the surface of the ocean, where the new born light
could reveal, I saw a silhouette against the momentarily
illuminated water. The object looked distinctly whale-like. It was
the huge shape of a tail in distinct outline. Briefly, it broke the
surface. Did the whale detect me looking, and move to bolt? It at
least left a region of disturbed water. Ripples.
‘Look!’ I called. ‘The whale is here. The sun shows it!’
116 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

The assembled villagers looked to me, and then followed the

direction in which my outstretched arm was pointing.
But, in that time, the sun moved behind the landscape. There
was still light, but it was no longer direct. I looked from their
faces to the fjord too but it was shaded. There was no visible sign
remaining that the whale had been there. The water was still.
What a fool I must have seemed.
Their silent expressions failed to hide their wariness; almost
disapproval.
Who was this curious gentleman from abroad who had come
to tell them the truth about their own world? What did he know?
Yet, I was convinced. I could no more doubt that I saw the whale
than I could my own name. Why could they not see the world the
way I did? Must our understanding always be so different?
One by one, our small gathering dispersed. Perhaps my
assertion did not even warrant a denial; or it would be impolite to
add to my humiliation. But there was one person this possibility
did not stop. Odd lingered a moment longer than his wife and
silently shook his head disapprovingly as he looked at me.
He had enjoyed my defeat more than the rest. I felt belittled,
dismissed.
Finally he left. It seemed I was all alone, my isolation complete.
But, no. I felt a hand touch my arm. I turned and saw the
unexpected face of Bård, my grim new companion: we two, the
most recent arrivals in Bakkan.
 SIXTH MEDITATION 117

‘Understand, my friend Benedict, that your faith can be

mightier than every science or philosophy.’
Bård’s statement required no answer. Just as well.
I had none.

* * * * *

I resolved to stay in my cabin for the rest of the day and not
have to face my neighbours. Instead I would meditate for one
last time. Philosophy was the only friend I needed and could
trust. I would not be going to dinner and I rehearsed a number
of different excuses for my non-attendance. None of these
would be true; I knew that people did not want the truth in any
case. They heard what they wanted to hear. Even if one had
a proof, most people will not be receptive to it. Let them have
lies, then.
Was I affected also by the fact that only Bård was there for me
when I was most alone? Was that a further humiliation, to have
gained his pity? Or should I construe his actions as noble? It was
a time of need. Where was Biret? I thought that we had an
understanding but it looked like she wanted to talk to Odd and
Inger more than to me. Perhaps she was the Huldra all along.
And why would Petter not defend me? I think I knew. Never
since we met had he agreed with me just because I was his friend.
And that meant I always knew where I stood with him. His
challenges were valuable to my work. We both knew that. He
118 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

would not allow that honesty to slip now. He was a man of

integrity.
No matter. I would be leaving the next day. The incident with
the whale was of no consequence. What mattered was that I
finally complete my meditations and resolve all the outstanding
matters.
I was just about to do so when footsteps came down the hill.
Biret appeared at my door and opened it. ‘Yes?’, I queried.
‘May I come in?’, she said.
I nodded.
‘I’m surprised you are willing to be seen visiting an old fool
like me. Bård can see right the way down to my door, you know.
He will know you are here.’
‘I wanted to explain; . . . and check that you were alright.’
‘There is nothing to explain,’ I insisted.‘You have no obligations
to me. You can talk to Odd if you prefer.’
She gave me a moment to let my frustrations abate.
‘You must see that I will be here in Bakkan after you have left
tomorrow. I cannot have the others judging me for how I have
behaved with an older man. I am Sami and Samis are accused of
loose virtue all of the time. Would I not just be a cliché in their
eyes if I was seen to be intimate with the latest visitor to this
cabin?’
I understood, and yet this comment also tormented me. Did it
imply that the other men who had been here, sleeping in this
 SIXTH MEDITATION 119

bed, had also felt themselves more special to Biret than clearly
they were? I knew I was not the first visitor. I was just a stranger
passing through. I was the biggest fool of all to think that this
meant something. How can someone of my age be so immature
in his thinking?
As she watched me ponder over humiliation piled on
humiliation, I saw her face soften once more. Perhaps I was to
receive pity again.
‘I do not disbelieve you that you saw a whale,’ she said.
This surprised me. I was not ready for it, nor demanding it.
‘That is not the same as saying you believe me,’ the logician in
me had to point out.
‘I believe you,’ she said.
And that was all I wanted to hear.
I had her trust.

* * * * *

The ice broken, we proceeded to have at least an hour or so in

further conversation and things all seemed right again.
She explained how she liked me and hoped we could still be in
touch after I had gone. She had been making plans for Kautokeino.
It wasn’t practical to move out there for another six months, during
the summer, so she would have to stay in Bakkan until then. I
accepted that I did not want to impugn her virtue, in word or in
deed, in front of the people she would live with until that time.
120 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

She also managed to talk me round to the idea of coming to

the dinner. No one had really tried to contradict my claim of
seeing the whale. Everyone could tell that the sun had disappeared
just at the point they started to look. I was looking before that. I
was the observer in the best position out of all of us. The matter
would surely not be mentioned any more. And it was my last
night in Bakkan. Everyone would want to see me off with a good
meal and drink. I would regret it if I missed the dinner. Besides,
I had not yet told them any of my fictitious excuses, so all
embarrassment had been avoided.
She was right. I was grateful to her that she had talked me out
of any rash decision. It would be rude to my hosts not to attend
their Soldag dinner. It was, after all, my farewell dinner too. She
made it sound like the whole evening was arranged in my
honour. They would all enjoy hearing about my final conclusions
too, and my experiences.
Biret told me she had to walk to the store and buy some wine
as her contribution for tonight. Did I want also to buy some? I
did. I gave her money – a generous amount – and asked if she
would get me a very good one. Alcohol is a luxury but I was in no
position to be mean.

* * * * *

Biret left and I was alone again. What a morning it had been.
I quickly lunched and then set to work, knowing that today I
 SIXTH MEDITATION 121

had only the afternoon to myself and it would soon be very dark
again.
I needed to put the assembled pieces together to form a
compelling whole, perhaps one that was scientifically,
philosophically and theologically satisfying. But could this be
done? There seemed a danger of antagonism all round. Some
supporters of science reject both the theological and philosophical
approaches. Theology sometimes overrules both science and
philosophy. Now while some philosophers reject both religion
and scientism, I did not think that there had to be automatically
an antagonism from the philosophical direction towards the
other two. Perhaps a philosopher could reach out and explain the
appeal and justification of science – as I thought I could do – and
also theology alike.
But what place would there be for God in my world of
causation? If he were not a natural object, as I am told he is not,
then is he a ghostly presence, unable to affect or be affected by
the physical processes of the natural world? He is then a spectre,
a geist, and no part of my world-theory. Nothing here suggested
a bridge on which the philosopher and theologian could meet.
Creation remained a mystery. Any first natural event, by
definition, had no natural cause. If we use Big Bang as the name
for this first natural event, then there seem difficulties in any
attempt to explain it. I can think of the following possibilities in
response to this issue.
122 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

One: there was no first natural event; no so-called Big Bang.

Perhaps time and space proceeds around in one big circle, in
which case the cause of the first event in our history was simply
the last event in our history. As it makes sense to suppose those
last and first events might even have happened one hour ago,
creating a world complete with me and all my memories of
yesterday, then I might even be persuaded to think that there
were no true last and first events at all. The line that forms a circle
has no beginning or end. One event has no more claim of being
the first than another.
Two: the Big Bang is uncaused. We cannot, after all, rule out the
possibility of uncaused events in the natural world. There are some
theories in physics which suggest that uncaused events happen in
the natural world with surprising frequency, such as when a
particle springs into existence or another one goes out of it. While
every effect has a cause, there seems to be no necessity that every
event has a cause. One could simply deny that every event is an
effect of some cause. This would amount to a denial of a principle
of sufficient reason, which tells us that everything that happens
has a sufficient reason for doing so. If our world does turn out to
be indeterministic, however, then we have grounds to reject the
principle. We might then have to accept that, if there was a first
event in the world’s history, that first event was uncaused.
Three: the Big Bang had a cause that was outside of nature.
This is the view that there was a supernatural act of Creation
 SIXTH MEDITATION 123

from the Deity. One of the potential problems with this view is
that it rests on the possibility of a natural event having a
supernatural cause. This idea can be challenged by the thesis that
causation requires a movement or transference from one thing
located in space and time to another. When a ball is kicked, for
instance, there is an impact at a location and a transfer of
momentum from the kicker to the ball. Now in the case of a
natural event that has a supernatural cause, we simply do not
know what such causation would look like; nor how two such
very different things, one immaterial and without a spatiotemporal
location, can interact with another that is material and located in
space and time. Perhaps our lack of understanding is insufficient
grounds, on its own, to rule out such causation. Indeed, we think
of Creation as a miracle – ‘the miracle of Creation’ – so perhaps
this expresses the idea that any such supernatural causation of a
natural event would indeed be such a mystery that it should
qualify as miraculous.
I cannot think of any other than these three possible ways of
understanding the presence of a universe. Perhaps there are
others but I suspect that they are possibilities either too remote
or too horrible to contemplate.
Can the philosopher tell us which of these is true? I think it can
be said of the first option that it suffers from a possible drawback
that there seem no possible circumstances in which it could be
disproven. Someone might think that this is an ideal position for a
124 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

theory to find itself in, but that is far from the case. What it suggests
instead is that the theory has no testable content, and possibly no
content at all. As the scenario has been described, it seems that
there really is no way to disprove that the world was created in its
entirety one hour ago, including with the creation of all the
memories in all its people. But that offers no grounds whatsoever
to suspect such a theory of being true.
The first option can also be accused of failing to solve, or even
engage with, the mystery of existence. It merely evades the
mystery. If the universe does involve one big whole of space time,
with the first event being caused by the last event, we can still ask
the question from where did this whole come? What made this
vast circle of space time? And then we are left with the other two
options in any case. Either the world was uncaused or it had a
cause outside of nature. We should move on and consider the
other two options, therefore.
What of option three: the theological option?
I remembered an experience that seemed relevant. When I
was a child of six or seven, the schoolteacher permitted the class
a discussion such as this.
‘What made the world?’ one child had asked.
‘God,’ another answered.
A voice at the back of the room retorted ‘Who made God?’
The whole class laughed uproariously at the new questioning
child. The teacher stopped them.
 SIXTH MEDITATION 125

‘No,’ she said. ‘All those who laughed, give me an answer then.
Who did make God?’
Of course, none could say and their laughter was silenced.
It was to my shame then, and a shame with which I continue
to live, that mine was not the questioning voice at the back of the
classroom. It could have been. But mine was one of the voices
laughing: joining with the group to ridicule a question I myself
did not have the wisdom to answer. I suspect that this was a key
moment in the making of me as a philosopher. Never again
would I think any question is too stupid to ask. Anyone who says
so will almost certainly not know how to answer it.
I didn’t find the identity of the child who spoke out: one of my
contemporaries. What, I wonder, became of her (it was a girl’s
voice)? The question had a point that is relevant to our third
option. Would it really solve the riddle of existence if we just
proclaimed that God made the universe? Wouldn’t the riddle
merely be relocated? The question I would then want to be
answered is ‘Who made God?’ and we would be no nearer an
answer to that question than we were before.
In this judgement, I am following exactly the same principle I
apply as when I hear some supposedly naturalistic explanation
of the Big Bang. Some say the Big Bang is not a mystery because
we have a theory that suggests there was some sort of proto-
material cloud, which came together and caused the Big Bang.
Any such theory, regardless of the details, is hopeless and
126 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

makes no progress at all in explaining the beginning of existence.

I would instead then simply want to know what caused the
proto-material cloud. This is why it is useful to think of the Big
Bang as synonymous with the very first natural existent. The
details of exactly what it was, do not really matter to me. It could
have been a bang, or a flash, or a cloud, or a whimper. But as long
as it is the first thing, then we have the question of its origin of
existence and are back to the three possible explanations I
outlined.
Hence, even with the third option – the outside, supernatural
cause – we still have to explain where God came from. And to
prevent having an infinite regress, where we go round and round
in circles, asking the same question in a new form, we cannot
accept the third possibility here. That is why people find the
first two options attractive. Either, to adapt the first option, God
exists eternally and there was never a time when he did not exist;
or, to adapt the second, God was uncaused, and is thus the
uncaused cause of everything.
I think the second option is the one that we should take most
seriously, and we should allow something that is itself uncaused
but is the cause of everything else. Whether one calls this
uncaused cause God or the Big Bang does not seem to matter,
since the two claims are structurally identical.
It was at this point that I experienced the most startling
revelation. How could, I thought, anything be the cause of
 SIXTH MEDITATION 127

everything? The every thing would have to include causation

itself, since it is a part of reality, as I had already established.
Nothing, not even God, could bring causation into being,
because He would need causation to exist already in order to
do so.
It follows that the very first thing to exist must be causation
itself. Causation must be that first uncaused thing. It must be,
then, that God is causation: they are identical, for nothing in the
world would deserve the name of God more than the uncaused
cause. Anything else would be inferior, and we know that God is
supposed to be inferior to nothing.
The philosophy I had discovered in my week in Bakkan could
be summed up in the phrase ‘causation first.’ But this did not
mean just that causation was conceptually the first, as in the
starting point of all philosophy and science. Causation is first
philosophy. But it seems that causation is also explanatorily first
and, I was persuaded, temporally and metaphysically first in the
story of the universe.
Now you might say that option two is still less than satisfactory.
Must we really settle for the idea that the first thing was uncaused?
I suggest that nothing might be better than this answer. But
consider this again. Any explanation of the existence of the
universe would ultimately be a causal explanation. This means
that all the accounts require causation to be real. No explanation
gets going, therefore, unless causation is accepted as really
128 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

existent. No matter what it is, real causation must be at the very

moment that the first thing came into being.
The reader should understand immediately that we cannot
ask ‘What caused causation?’ Any such question can only be
answered by invoking causation, and would thus be self-
undermining through its circularity. Causation itself is the one
thing that had originally to exist uncaused, therefore. It cannot
be created unless and until it exists, therefore it cannot be created.
What else can we call this, other than God?

* * * * *

The revelation was so monumental that I had to feel somewhat

humbled. I felt as small compared to this truth as is my body
to the size of the sun, or as a drop is to the ocean. I could
only cope with my new understanding by taking a stroll
outdoors.
I climbed up to the path on which Inger and Odd’s house sits
and I walked from there deeper into the woods. There is nothing
more on Kvaløya after Bakkan, just trails and forest so I had to
make sure that I did not get lost. In the history of the island,
more than one visitor has been found frozen to death in the
winter wilderness.
I kept checking on Polaris, Polarstjernen, to make sure that I
kept my bearings. It was a tiny prick of bright light in a sea of
darkness. Yet its constant fixedness guided me.
 SIXTH MEDITATION 129

As I looked around at the beauty of nature in every direction,

I had to think what a wonderful world we had. And this set in
motion my final train of thought of the six meditations, which
completed my whole philosophy.
Causation was not there only at the start. Causation remains
ongoing and all around us, all of the time. Without the sun, air
and water causing the forest to grow, there would be no trees.
Without the inner gene structure of the plant causing carrots
to grow, there would be no food. Without gravity causing us to
remain in orbit around the sun, there would be no life on this
planet. I could instantly see that a conception of God as the
provider, sustaining the world at all times, made sense once we
understood that God was causation.
And God created me too. Yes. I see that I have reason to be
thankful that I live in a world where causation exists. For a sperm
caused an egg to be fertilised; and then to grow into me. My
parents made me, of course, but were only able to do so because
causation is real in this universe. It is the one thing I have most
gratitude for. The planet is warmed and food grows here. It is also
predictable to an adequate-enough degree that we can survive. If
anything could follow anything, then we would not know what to
do and danger would be around every corner. One couldn’t eat
healthily or avoid accidents, for everything would be an accident;
and what would there be to stop an elephant trampling you at
any time? We have already seen how the scientific notion of
130 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

intervention would be inapplicable without causation, and this

same argument would apply to any human attempted action. One
would never know the consequence of it, if any, and one would
thereby be disempowered: at the mercy of the world’s contingencies.
Causation has not just fed our bodies, therefore. Because
some things are connected to others, such as the striking of a
match and it lighting, the world is comprehensible to us too.
Causation thus feeds our minds as well. Without causation
connecting types of event or object, we really could not know
what was coming next. There would be no degree of regularity
about anything, hence no basis on which to form rational beliefs
about expectation or strategies for action. But once there are
causal connections in the world, between some phenomena but
not others, then we can start to form theories about the world,
make our plans and offer explanations. The world has a structure
that our beliefs can fit and our expectations and intentions can
seek to exploit.
Causation truly is the great provider. Is it any wonder that
people gather in churches on Sundays to give thanks and praise
to causation, the eternal almighty, without whom there would be
nothing but desolation and the disorder of things?
And in prayer, too, you can pray that the causes work out in
your favour, or the favour of your loved ones? If one prays to
avoid accidents on a journey, one is expressing a wish that
nothing on that trip causes calamity. If one prays for good
 SIXTH MEDITATION 131

weather, one is praying that high pressure is caused in one’s

surroundings. What other sense could one make of petitioning
prayer?
This interpretation of Creation and the continued existence
and order of the world seemed to make sense to me. With that, I
called a halt to my meditations. It was, after all, nearly the time at
which I was invited for dinner with Petter and all the village folk.
I retraced my footsteps: quite literally, on this occasion, as no-
one else had walked that path and there was no fresh snow, either,
to cover my recent imprints. Back in the cabin, I quickly jotted
down in my notebook, ensuring that none of my new ideas were
forgotten.
I then dressed as best as I could for the occasion. I had not
brought much and was not expecting any need for smartness. I
had to content myself with finding the trousers and sweater that
had been least dirtied by the snow. Nor did I have a brush for my
hair or scissors to trim my fingernails.
I nevertheless found myself leaving the cabin at the appointed
time, ready for one final evening in the company of friends and
acquaintances, old and new.
132
Objections and Replies

I made my way up the slippery slope to the house of Petter and

Marie, where I could see that every room was lit. There were
sounds of conversation and merriment coming from within. I was
happy to reach the entrance and feel the warmth emanating
outward. My arrival went unnoticed as I stood inside the door and
assessed the scene.
I saw Marie and Inger deep in conversation. Ragnhild and
Solan were at one end of a long dinner table preparing a game of
chess, while Petter, Biret and Odd were setting places at the table,
chatting, bringing crockery and glasses out. I noted that Bård
was seated on a chair against a wall, staring into space, talking to
no one. As Solan played the first move on the chessboard, Bård
looked up to note it, but then looked away again.
Removing my outside coat and boots, I attracted Inger’s
attention. She stopped her conversation and gradually a hush

133
134 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

descended over the house as everyone looked to me. I felt self-

conscious, as if they had been talking about me.
Petter came forward and greeted me.
‘Oh, it’s Ben. Welcome. Now we are all complete and the
Soldag feast can begin at last.’
Inger resumed her conversation with Marie and the
awkwardness was defused. Without too much delay we were all
invited to sit down. There was no seating plan and I watched where
Biret sat, next to Odd. I was too slow and before I could reach the
vacant chair on her left side, Bård was already in that position,
though I had seen him make no movement. I had to walk back
around the table but managed to sit opposite Biret, which was the
next best thing. Petter and Marie brought out a first course of hot
soup, which I think was cauliflower. Petter then sat next to me. The
chess board was vacated at the far end of the table while Ragnhild
and Solan each moved up a place to eat with us, but I did see that
Ragnhild kept glancing back at the game, thinking through her
strategy. We had a white wine with the soup. I enjoyed it.
Once that was all consumed and cleared away, Marie announced
that she had a special gift for us: a gift of a song that she had written
for the occasion and would now play, accompanying herself on
guitar. Everyone seemed excited, especially the children, who ran
and sat on the floor attentively, in front of their mother.
Marie started strumming an introduction and then entered
vocally, singing her song, in Norwegian. I couldn’t follow it but
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 135

heard Sol mentioned, as I would have expected. It was a sweet

melody and I thought Marie had a beautiful though sorrowful
voice. The wine must have affected me because I felt a warm glow
inside, and that this was a natural place for me to be, with these
people.
It was not a long piece and when it was done, I joined everyone
in giving a big round of applause. I asked Petter what it was about
and he asked Marie if she could translate the lyric into English
for me.
She said that translation was not her strong point but it would
be something like the following:

The Sun lights our way

It brings us joy and hope
Without it, we would not know whether to turn left or right
Warm us, bright Sun,
Make the food grow in our gardens once more
When you return, we will in return give you a warm welcome

It was called Welcome the Sun. I liked it. Perhaps it was a bad
translation. But the sentiment still came through. It wasn’t the
sort of thing I would have written.
Another glass of wine was offered. Perhaps I should have said
no. But it was a special night and I had worked hard all week so
I agreed, as did everyone else at the table, except Solan and
Ragnhild who were already back playing their game. Petter made
136 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

some small talk about whether I was ready for my return home,
departing in the morning. I assured him I was, though I didn’t
look forward to the travel.
Fortunately, he was called away to help serve the main course,
so I didn’t need to provide any more unnecessary details. A big
pot was placed in the middle of the table in which we took turns
fishing for chunks of stewed herring and we passed around the
potatoes and vegetables. Foolishly, I had finished my second glass
of wine while waiting and, without asking, it was filled again.
We all started eating. To break the silence, Marie asked if I
would now be willing finally to tell everyone about my work this
week and what I had concluded. As I was in a positive frame of
mind, I agreed and proceeded to lay out the main points of my
final position. I explained how causation was known to be real, it
being the one thing that could not be socially constructed. I
explained how science rested on the reality of causation – and
I’m sure Odd accidentally let out a ‘tut’ at that point – and such
causation couldn’t then be reduced to a mere regular pattern of
unconnected events if the worth of science was to be preserved.
I finished by explaining why I thought that nothing deserved the
name of God better than causation. Here there was no doubt that
Bård gasped and shook his head repeatedly but I think some of
the others did too, to a lesser extent.
There was a lull, which Marie eventually ended by thanking
me for sharing my thoughts with everyone but I was sure
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 137

that as she did I heard Bård mutter ‘Outrageous!’ under his

breath. Petter distracted everyone by walking round the table
with wine, filling all our glasses again, whether they needed it
or not.
When he sat down he too thanked me for being so honest and
open. He continued:
‘Now I’m sure we all would have things to say about Benedict’s
ideas but I have to speak first and say that he is a distinguished
philosopher who has clearly thought very seriously about these
matters. I think that if we have concerns about his conclusions
we should challenge them through reasoned argument, not jibes,
and all retain our dignity.
‘Benedict will respond best to reasoning and I’m sure will be
happy to answer any serious questions you have,’ added Petter.
‘Isn’t that right, Benedict?’
Of course. How could I refuse to answer questions now, given
what I had just told them? And in a way I would find it a more
comfortable topic of conversation than enquiries about simple
travel plans. I finished the remaining food on my plate quickly
and prepared to listen.
‘Now, who will go first?’ Petter questioned.
‘I will,’ said Bård, with uncharacteristic urgency.
Petter, as host, had the authority to grant the request, which he
did with a nod in Bård’s direction. Having gained permission, he
composed himself once more and began in his own time.
138 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

‘You have told us that God is the same thing as causation, and
this is a claim I have not heard before. It sounds to me like a
heresy. However, I am willing to put that aside and consider the
view on its merits, as you philosophers like to.
‘All your arguments sound purely metaphysical, to me. But
have you considered the moral arguments as well?
‘There is one feature of God that you overlook if you equate
God and causation, so I do not think you adequately take account
of it. What we know of God is that God is good. Now, from what
I understand of your concept of causation, it is neither good nor
bad. That is to say, good things can be caused to happen, like the
growing of our food, and also bad things can be caused to
happen, such as famines or earthquakes.
‘Causation seems neutral or indifferent in a way that God
cannot be. So I cannot accept, as you have suggested, that God
and causation are one and the same.’
I thought he was done, but as I was formulating my reply, he
started up again.
‘What is lacking from your view of things is a moral dimension.
God is not just some cold, objective truth in the world. He is also
the provider of goodness. He has a moral aspect, which you have
chosen to ignore. Perhaps you think of the world as lacking all
morality, and you would like that, because it would license all
sorts of depraved behaviour.’
I’m sure he glanced sideways at Biret as he said that.
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 139

‘Without the goodness of God, I think that is what you will

have, and I cannot accept it,’ he concluded. And with that he
seemed finally done as he sat back in his chair, looked at me and
waited.
I thought this through and saw that Bård had a point. I was
always told that God was good – he was omnibenevolent – so
how could I really have an account of God that lacked this moral
dimension? Perhaps I was describing something very important
in the universe but I couldn’t be describing God as long as it was
lacking in goodness.
I considered whether to withdraw this part of my new
philosophy. Perhaps it would not have done much harm to do so
given that it was only one aspect of it, and probably the most
dispensable part.
However, I saw the look on Bård’s face. He was eager. I would
say almost smiling. He had the look of a man pleased with
himself, as if he thought he had achieved an important victory. I
realised that if I gave in he would see it as a vindication of
theology and its inevitable triumph over philosophy. I had to
mount a defence of my position.
I began speaking, not knowing quite where it would end.
‘Now I grant that there is one point that might be raised
against my view. Isn’t God good, whereas causation is neither
good nor bad? This is a standard way of thinking about God,
certainly, at least in some traditions, but I don’t think it is the
140 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

only way. Moreover, it is a way of thinking about God that itself

creates some problems. And if you instead think of God in the
manner I suggest, then those problems will disappear.’
‘That is a bold claim, young man’ interjected Bård. ‘Then
again, I know that you are not shy of controversy. But can you
back it up?’
‘I think I can,’ I responded. I could not now avoid the challenge.
I decided to begin with a true story.
‘I once knew a Christian who had been taken to church every
week since she was young. She was a dutiful child who wanted to
please her family and so she learnt the Bible and the order of
service and did all that was asked of her. She sometimes prayed,
as was expected, for the health and well-being of those she cared
about and for things to be alright whenever there was a problem
in the world.
‘I did not meet her until she was older and after a few years
she told me that she was starting to lose her faith. I was interested
in this but I should make clear, Bård, that her change of mind
was nothing to do with me. I had not once encouraged her to
give up her religion. Naturally, I asked her to explain why she was
ceasing to believe.
‘ “There was so much bad in the world,” she explained. She told
me how she had heard of natural disasters, plagues and famines
in which sometimes thousands of people had died. She did not
believe that God would have approved of these terrible things
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 141

occurring. And yet God was supposed to know about everything

and have the power to do anything. Why, then, didn’t He intervene
and prevent unnecessary deaths? And she also told me that there
was a personal experience that meant a lot to her.
‘Her grandfather, with whom she had sometimes gone to
church, was a very good and devout man. He truly believed in God
and did everything he could to live within the Christian spirit. And
yet, this man, surely the least deserving of misery, became very ill.
He had a lingering, drawn out, and – she cried as she told me – very
painful death.
‘She had been told all the usual explanations. God sent these
things to test us; we would get our rewards in heaven; God had
given us free will to make mistakes, and so on. But she eventually
stopped believing these explanations. None of them, she
concluded, would justify the human suffering in the world,
which continues unabated in spite of God’s presence.
‘I recognised her concerns. Philosophers have considered this
problem in depth and I know that the theologians have tried to
explain it away. Perhaps they can, though I suspect it will need
very clever arguments to do so.
‘But suppose instead, as I urge, we take a different attitude
towards God. Suppose we stop thinking of God as a person. That
surely is us imposing a human model on to something that is
clearly not meant to be human. God does not worry or deliberate
over the natural course of events, or come to decisions to
142 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

intervene in them, like we do. What my model suggests, rather, is

an impersonal account of God, where God is beyond our
concerns, including those of morals.
‘Morality is a matter of the proper behaviour of people: how
should we relate to each other, to other animals and the world
around us? Why assume that this is of any interest to God?
Furthermore, why assume that human suffering is of any interest
to God, either? If a rock needs to fall from a mountain, because
it is dislodged, and my head is in the way, why do we think that
God would – or should – step in and give me what I want instead
of the rock? The whole universe is God’s creation and I cannot
see any reason why he should prioritise one part of it over any
other.
‘What I am suggesting, then, is that if you put away your Bible,
and the received opinion about God, the idea of him as an
impersonal and amoral presence in the universe perfectly
accords with our experience of the world. Some good things are
caused to happen and some bad things too. Causation is not a
moral matter, you are right. It is neutral: beyond good and evil.
But we really have no reason to think that God has this moral
dimension either, other than what we have read and chosen to
believe. If instead you look at the effect of God on the world, you
do not see this morality.
‘I wanted to ask you the other day, Bård, what difference it
would make if there was no God. Let me now pose that question
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 143

in a slightly different way. How would the world look if there was
no benevolent God but one who was perfectly amoral and
unconcerned with humans and their welfare?
He was silent.
‘Well, I suggest to you, the world would look exactly as it
does now. Indeed, it is only if there was an omnibenevolent
God that we would expect the world to look different, absent
of all its present suffering. So experience seems to favour my
interpretation rather than the received one you have given us.
And, in that case, I see no barrier here to equating God with
causation.
‘This God-cum-causation has certainly created us and
provides for us, so deserves the name of God in that respect. The
one feature you say it will lack is, however, a feature that we have
no sound reason to believe exists in the world. There is pain and
suffering aplenty, not all of which is of our own making. You
cannot tell me that there is an all-knowing, all-powerful and all-
good God at work here. The best explanation I can find is that
our God is not good, and why not then equate it with blind,
unconcerned causation.’
To my surprise, I had managed to improvise a convincing
answer. Indeed, I had even persuaded myself that this was the
best way to respond to the likes of Bård. I noted that any slight
indication of a smile on his face had gradually drained away
as I was speaking. He was no longer on the edge of his seat,
144 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

awaiting my capitulation. Instead, he had slowly moved further

and further away, his arms were folded and his face looked as
white and grim as ever. This countenance alone was enough to
persuade me that my answer was successful.
The guests resumed their dinners. Solan and Ragnhild had
already moved back to their chess. I could see that the others
were all thinking about what I had said.
Biret was the next to speak up.
‘I found that very interesting, Ben. I am not a philosopher, nor
theologian, nor a scientist, as you know so maybe my opinion is
not worth as much as someone else’s.’
‘No,’ I interrupted. ‘I must contest that last statement from you,
and that one alone. You don’t need an academic training in order
to think these things through. I very much value your opinion,
Biret. If you say I am wrong then that would matter very much to
me. And if you say I am right, then I would be overjoyed. Do go
ahead and say what you want.’
‘Very well,’ she responded. ‘I will take what you just said at face
value and assume that you are not teasing me.’
‘I am not,’ I assured her again.
‘What I think, then, is that you could give a different kind of
answer to Bård, on this matter. But I am not as confident as you
all so I will put my point in the form of a question.
‘You seemed to give way to Bård and grant that causation was
neither good nor bad.’
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 145

‘Yes: it has moral neutrality,’ I said by way of encouragement.

‘And then you said that this was all well and good because
there was no sign that God was anything but morally neutral.’
‘That’s right,’ I agreed.
‘But could you not have gone a different way with this and
argued that what you call causation is overall a good thing?
Wasn’t this the point of your saying that it provides for us, that
there would be no world created or sustained without it, and that
it made the universe comprehensible?’
Was I fooling myself to think that this young lady had shamed
me with her incisive analysis? Was it not the best interpretation
yet? And she was stating it in such a perfect way, which made it
sound as if I had been right all along.
‘Biret,’ I said, ‘You have charmed me so much in the week that
I have been here. But nothing is as charming to me as to hear
your spontaneous words of wisdom. And I see that they oblige
me to think again and offer a more nuanced position.’
‘What is “nuanced”?’ piped up Solan, and I quickly explained
to him, apologising that I could not translate it into Norwegian.
Biret’s question raised the issue of whether existence was
better than non-existence. Without causation, we would not be
here. And it seemed good that we were. But would it really be bad
if we had never existed in the first place? I had to consider these
questions honestly. I noted that there were some signs of life in
Bård again, though.
146 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

‘How can I tackle your question, then, Biret?’ I began, again

not knowing where my reasoning would end, nor how I could
square it with my answer to Bård.
‘Here is what I think we must say.
‘What I argued before was right. Causation is not a moral
force in the world. Causes produce their effects regardless of
whether they are good or bad. The ocean cannot resist drowning
a man just because that is a bad thing. The moral sphere is all
dependent on our interests, by which I mean the interests of the
sentient creatures of the world. But I think I can reconcile this
with Biret’s point. All that is good in the world – by which I mean
all that is good for us – we only have because causation is real. It
matters to us that we are alive, that we can have pleasure, that we
can understand the world and use science, that we can help each
other when in need. The reality of causation is then a precondition
of all that is good.
‘Now you might say that it is a precondition, also, of all that is
bad. Fire and lightning can kill me because they are able to cause
my death, for instance; hence they do so only because causation
is real. But I also think that causation is not the precondition of
every possible bad.
‘What I am thinking of is that if causation were to suddenly
stop working in the whole universe, then that would be an
undoubted bad. Anything could follow anything. The world
would instantly become incomprehensible and unable to sustain
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 147

us. We would have a rapid and miserable end, most likely, and I
can see that this would be a bad thing.
‘What if causation had never existed in the first place, you
might ask. Well then, I insist, we would never have existed either.
Perhaps that would not matter, as there would be no creatures
to have suffered harm. But I still think that overall an orderly
and comprehensible universe is better than a disorderly and
incomprehensible one.
‘The former is better because it at least gives us the opportunity
for happiness, knowledge and free will, even though we may
squander that opportunity. We even have the potential to mitigate
or overcome the effects of natural disasters, one day. Without
causation, we don’t even have such an opportunity. In that case,
the disorderly world is bad – in the sense of being worse than an
orderly world – but its badness is not due to the presence of
causation. Indeed, this badness is due to the absence of causation.
‘I conclude, therefore, that Biret is right, as I would expect, and
overall the world is better for having causation than being without
it. In that sense one could say that causation, or God, is a good; and
that badness is due to the absence of God. And if this also answers
Bård’s original concern about equating God with causation, then
all the better.’
Petter and Marie in particular seemed pleased with this
answer. Odd and Inger still looked sceptical but produced no
immediate objection. Perhaps even Bård was happy with what I
148 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

had concluded but I couldn’t say for certain, given that there was
always at least some degree of doubt over whether he was actually
dead or not.
Marie now spoke up.
‘I like your answer,’ she said. ‘But I still think that your account
of causation leaves something out of the description of God.
‘I believe in God,’ she confessed, ‘but your notion of causation
is insufficient to account for His perfection and magnificence. So
I cannot yet sign up to your philosophy if you cannot reassure
me.’
Of course, I had to invite Marie to say more. I also felt that we
were on the same side in that clearly she wanted nothing more
than to understand. No one would suspect an ulterior motive of
Marie.
‘Maybe I can explain what worries me. I will try,’ she started.
As she did, Petter passed the wine around again and we all filled
our glasses. Because I felt the signs of intoxication, I decided I
would not drink this one.
‘The fact is, as I understand it,’ she said, ‘that causation is a part
of the natural world. It is how the sun warms the earth, how food
feeds us and how books educate us. But God seems to me to be
something more. Doesn’t He have supernatural powers that
cannot be explained in a merely scientific way?’
I was sure I saw Odd shaking his head so I encouraged Marie
to continue.
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 149

‘Well, the sort of thing I mean is that there is life in the

universe, for example. This seems a miracle. I cannot see that the
blind and natural forces in the world – which I take causation to
be – could have produced something as wonderful and as special
as life.
‘And we human beings are even more miraculous: each with
our free will and unique personalities. Nature unaided could not
have produced all these different and beautiful living and
thinking people. Surely that needed something equally special, if
not more so. I’m tempted to say that it required something
supernatural. So even if you are right and God needed causation
in order to create all the wonder of the world, God must be more
than that causation. God must have miraculous powers as well,
so that tells me that you need more. It seems to me that a
deliberate act of creation was at work: a creation of living
thinking beings that could not have come about through
accident.’
This was another good point and I realised that I was as
helpless as anyone in explaining the origin of life on earth or the
existence of mind and consciousness. I really didn’t know how
that happened, nor if anyone else knew either.
‘Marie asks one of the greatest questions of all,’ I said,
addressing all at the table. Even Ragnhild and Solan looked up
from their chess to hear what I had to say about their mother. I
saw that I could not contradict her by anything in my reply.
150 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

‘And I am hindered in my response by the fact that I know

insufficient biology. So my reply cannot give any detail on the
facts of nature. Perhaps Inger can provide that later. But I think I
can say something of use.
‘The existence of life in the universe does seem a mystery to
us and this is not simply a matter of science. There appears to
me also to be a conceptual problem. We find it hard to conceive
of how life can emerge from lifeless parts, and also how mind
can emerge from unminded parts. We think that if you take a
number of components that are lifeless, then the product that
they make when they are all together must also be lifeless. But I
think there are cases where wholes are more than sums of parts
and where they can acquire properties not possessed by the
parts.
‘If we stick with human biology, for instance, we see that our
bodies are made out of some fairly mundane and common
elements. I believe that carbon, nitrogen, calcium, hydrogen and
oxygen are among the most common elements that make up our
biochemistry. These are fairly commonplace and they occur in
lots of other things without constituting a living creature.
‘So how do they do so in a human body? Must it require the
special powers of a supernatural God to make it happen; to give
them animation? I think not. I think that when a set of elements
are arranged in a certain way, it can start a very particular kind
of causal process – producing change, transformation. Consider
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 151

the very simple case where hydrogen and oxygen undergo a

process of bonding. Before that, they are two gasses, and both
combustible.’ (I accidentally said ‘compustible’ due to the wine
but no one seemed to notice, or they were becoming equally
affected so let it go.)
‘But when they bond, they undergo a transformation. The
bonding involves their sharing electrons; thus, the parts are
changed through partaking in the whole. And we are left with a
whole that then has very different properties from the parts.
They form water, which far from being compustible (I said
again), actually can put out fire.
‘Of course, I have far from explained how the basic ingredients
can compose a living organism, but I think this answers the
philosophical and conceptual problem. It shows there is no
reason in principle why lifeless parts have to make a lifeless
whole. If these elements come together in the right way, then the
whole that they make can have new properties, not present in the
original parts before their transformation.
‘I think that plain old nature, with regular causal processes
can do this. The parts need to be in a very particular and special
arrangement – make no mistake about that – but it is one that
can arise naturally and, as we know, once in nature, life can self-
replicate that same special arrangement.’
I felt pleased with this answer. I don’t know if Marie was
happy. She didn’t look entirely convinced. But I was sure it was
152 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

right even if she couldn’t see it. She wasn’t a philosopher after all,
but I was, and in my expert opinion this was a fine response. It
showed that divine supernatural powers were not needed. Nor
were miracles.
‘Enough about God,’ interjected Inger. ‘That’s just one side of
your equation. What about the other? What you have said about
science can also be challenged.’
‘And philosophy,’ added Petter. ‘I think some philosophers
would have problems with your view too.’
‘Very well, both of you. I am happy to address these matters.
Which shall I answer first?’
‘Go ahead,’ said Petter to Inger.
‘No,’ said Inger. ‘You are our host and I think you should have
your say before me, especially as you and Ben are both
philosophers.’
Back home, the host might have protested that the guest has
priority but here Petter was willing to proceed. As he talked,
Inger helped Marie clear away the plates and bring out a desert
of stewed apple. I didn’t know whether, in doing so, they were
taking the opportunity to avoid listening to philosophy.
Petter began and I drank my wine as I listened.
‘My problem is simple,’ he said. ‘Don’t you start from the
wrong place in your reasoning and effectively infer what is
already well known from what is less well known?’
I asked for further explanation.
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 153

‘Well, let me see now,’ continued Petter, and I allowed him to

develop his point without interruption.
‘It sounds to me as if you have reasoned from the reality of
the external world to the existence of the thinking mind.
But don’t we all accept that nothing is better known than the
contents of one’s own mind. So one shouldn’t be starting from
the outside world, which is known with far less certainty, and
then following what its existence implies. This is what I think
you did. Rather, you should start from individual experience,
which all of us have and know, and then deduce what can be
known from that. With sufficient arguments, this might include
the external world. But that is not the place to begin, as I think
that you did.’
I could understand his point, as a fellow philosopher.
‘So I’m tempted to conclude that your philosophy is the wrong
way round. We should start with what we know with certainty
and then follow a chain of reasoning that allows us to confirm
the existence of something originally less certain. In starting
with external and real causation, you have reversed the tradition
of our discipline and it makes me reluctant to follow you. What
have you got to say?’
I did not rush to answer. Indeed, I reached for the wine and
refilled my glass. Biret remained attentive as did Bård. And Inger
was back at the table now as the guests started eating their apples,
except Bård, who had refused his.
154 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

‘Petter is right,’ I conceded, ‘that we often think of our

individual experience as that which is best known. Some say it is
the thing we know with the most certainty. But I believe this
common view is a mistake and has been damaging to philosophy.
I should add that I don’t agree with the way Petter has
characterised my argument, as one way of putting it is that from
the existence of my own thought, which I know I have, I can
infer the existence of language and from that the existence of
society, and finally, from that, I know that causation must be real
as a precondition of all those earlier things.
‘However: no matter. I accept that I first started my reasoning
from features in the external world: that there was causation and
society, and then brought in the consideration of language and
thought. In that respect, you are right, Petter. I was going from
the outer to the inner, against traditional thinking in philosophy.
I am not opposed to arguing against the tradition,’ I said, and I
lifted my head proudly as I did.
‘I have always thought that it is a mistake to start with the
mind – the individual self – and reason outwards. Many have
tried this and, for example, tried to construct a defensible theory
of causation just from the succession of experiences that we all
have. I experience the drinking of water, for example, and then a
feeling that my thirst has gone, and from this I am supposed to
gain the idea of water having an effect on me. This is altogether
wrong and I don’t believe it will work.’
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 155

I started to feel more confidence now. I was answering all the

questions they could throw at me.
‘Instead, it has to be accepted that without the outside, without
the social situation, there is no person, no thinking thing. We
are born with just the necessary raw materials to be a thinking
thing – a mobile body and an adaptable brain – but what we are
is made by the influences of our setting. It is as if our mind is
made by its environment.
‘To make the claim more concrete, please note that I have
concentrated in my arguments on the role of language. I can be a
language user only because I am surrounded by others who use
the same language and we keep each other on course, using our
words correctly to express a shared meaning.
‘In being part of such a linguistic community, I have concepts
to hand that allow me to think. Thus, I am changed by being part
of this whole, much as I said that the hydrogen and oxygen atoms
are by being part of a water molecule. My mind and my thinking
depends on this interaction; that is, it depends on the reality of
causation. Hence, I am right to take causation as the thing that is
real, fundamental, and fixed. The contents of my own mind are,
in that sense, secondary and thus not a safe grounding alone on
which to rest my philosophy.’
Biret gave me spontaneous applause at that point, for having
presented such a convincing and original argument. ‘Skål’,
she suddenly called, and everyone except Bård raised their
156 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

glasses to have another drink. I took this as an opportunity to

salute Biret.
When the next bottle was brought out, Biret told the table that it
was the one I had bought, and there were some approving remarks.
She was at that moment distracted when Marie raised a
conversation with her about her plans for Kautokeino, asking her
about the learning of the language and whether she thought it
would truly help with her learning the ways of her grandparents.
This meant Biret had to end her eye contact with me and several
other breakaway conversations started around the table.
I was for a time left alone with no one to talk to and as I
feigned interest in the chess game, which seemed to be reaching
a crucial point – Ragnhild on top – my thoughts turned to the
fact that tomorrow I would be leaving Bakkan. A resumption of
my normal life would, perhaps, be welcome, but all I could think
of was that I would not see Biret. It was to be my final night with
her; and Marie was occupying her attention.
I spoke up, raising my voice above everyone else, to remind us
all that Inger had a question about science that she had kindly
put on hold and wasn’t it time to return to that matter?
‘Ah, yes, finally,’ said Inger. She too sounded intoxicated and I
noticed a confidence and directness in her voice that I had never
heard before from her.
‘I am a scientist,’ she started, ‘and I feel I must at least offer
some defence of my own approach to these matters.
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 157

‘I am not at all antagonistic to philosophy,’ she made clear, ‘but

I think that all subject areas have a proper place and role to play.’
‘I agree,’ said Odd, offering his wife approval.
‘Well,’ she continued, ‘you make it sound as if your approach
can tell us all we need to know about causation. But I am sure that
you need more besides. Indeed sometimes it sounds as if you do
not fully know what you are talking about, with all due respect.
‘In particular, I think that you have to start from a study of the
reality and seeing how causal connections really operate in the
world, by which I mean the world that we investigate with our
senses; not your world of Platonic Forms.
‘I’ve noted, for instance, that philosophers in the past have
argued over some of the features of causation as if that matter
can be settled without bothering to look.’
‘Can you give me an example?’ I asked. My speech was slurred.
‘Yes,’ said Inger. ‘Some philosophers have said that a cause
must always occur before its effect – I mean before in time. But
then I hear others deny this and say that causes can be
simultaneous with their effects. But what they don’t seem to
acknowledge in all this speculation – I can’t see that it is anything
more than that – is that they need to look at some real cases of
causation to test their theories. It seems to me an empirical
question whether causes come before their effects. I have heard
from Odd of some experiments in physics where the effect seems
to occur immediately – instantly – once the cause occurs.’
158 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

Odd nodded.
‘Now I don’t understand all this and the details do not matter
at this moment. But I think that you should grant that these
questions must be settled scientifically, according to the facts,
rather than in your untutored, and I might say ignorant, way.’
At that I almost exploded. I felt anger rising in me and for a
few moments that I could lose control. How rude of her. Was it
just the alcohol talking? She had never been so blunt with me
before. I supposed that Odd had told her all about our earlier
conversation, some days past, and she had decided to take his
side. Well, that is very loyal, if she had, but then that just makes
them both wrong.
Everyone could see that I had become red in the face and
their stares just made me want to turn the table over and storm
out. Imagine all this happening after I had been so courteous to
everyone and attended the dinner like a grateful guest.
I was just about to issue a sharp rebuke to Inger when Petter
stopped me.
‘Benedict,’ he said. ‘It is very warm in this room now with our
stove and all these people eating and talking. Won’t you join me
outside for a few moments to take some fresh air? You look hot,
which is how I feel, so I think we would both enjoy a few moments
to cool down: just a few before the night freezes us.’
I said that it would be a pleasure to join Petter and I got up
with him, my anger distracted.
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 159

Biret, Marie, Inger and Odd seemed to launch into an

animated discussion in Norwegian, none of them taking the
chance to join us.

* * * * *

I stood outside for a few moments, enjoying the cold air on

my face. Petter and I both looked up and saw a spectacular
aurora borealis, bright green, stretching across the night
sky.
‘That is amazing,’ I commented. ‘Should I tell the others to
come out?’
There was no need, Petter assured me. The lights come to
Bakkan many nights. It was beautiful but they had all seen them
before. Leave them to their squabbling, he suggested, so that we
could enjoy the night sky in peace.
‘Beautiful,’ I said.
With that, we both fell into silence, rest and calm, which I
could tell Petter enjoyed just as much as I did. This lasted for a
few peaceful minutes . . .
But the warmth we had built up and stored was soon exhausted
by the crisp air and we had to re-enter the room.

* * * * *

Cheese and crackers were now laid out on the table. As soon as I
sat back down, I wanted to reply to Inger. I admit that I felt
160 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

slightly emotional, for some reason. Was that just because of my

feelings for Petter and for Biret? And leaving?
‘Inger, let me tell you how much I appreciate your question,’ I
began, doing my best to sound as though I meant it, for at that
time I think I did.
‘I believe that you are absolutely right that the question of
which things cause which other things is entirely a matter for
science to answer. Science is our best way to find what specific
facts there are about the world. But you know that I think there
has to be a philosophical and conceptual analysis which precedes
that. Someone can only say that they have discovered a case of
causation if they have a prior notion of causation which the new
case satisfies.
‘And let me tell you this. During the course of this week I have
been woken in the night several times by the sound of the whale
that is currently visiting the fjord.’
I could see more than one person around the table smile at
this – and almost laugh – but I was insistent.
‘Well, let me tell you something about this whale.
‘As I understand it, the whale is a very wise old creature. She
knows that it’s best not to bother us humans up above.’
‘It’s a He,’ interjected Inger.
‘What makes you so sure?’ I asked.
‘Didn’t you say that you heard its song?’
‘Yes I did,’ I confirmed. ‘In the night. It sang me to sleep.’
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 161

‘Then it’s a male,’ said Inger. ‘Only the males sing. Unless you
want to contradict science with your philosophy again.’
I ignored the sarcasm. I did not want to be deflected from
my point.
‘I defer to your expertise, Inger. My whale is a He. And he’s
happy to stay hidden under the water so that we don’t get in each
other’s way. We rarely see each other. But how do you and I know
he’s there, then, you might ask.
‘Well, there are enough signs. The water is sometimes agitated,
the fish stocks get depleted, and people like me can hear him
breathing and singing. It is a song, yes.
‘So we cannot look directly upon the whale as a proof that it
is really there. But we have evidence, from the indications that it
leaves for us that it has been. You could think of these as
symptoms of a whale visit. These symptoms are enough for me to
infer the whale is there. But they are not the whale. The whale is
not its song: it makes its song, which I can then take as a reliable
indication that it’s there.
‘I think the sciences are in that position in relation to causation.
Science often involves the drawing of a causal inference from
what is observed. A scientist never sees causation directly but can
only infer it is there, for instance, from regular patterns of events.
The nature of causation itself cannot be a purely scientific matter,
then, because you scientists only record the data. You are never
dealing with anything more than the symptoms of causation,
162 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

found in that data. To understand the elusive nature of causation

itself, like that elusive whale, you have to come to the likes of me.’
‘Nonsense,’ declared Odd resoundingly.
‘Oh, I’ve listened to this all night, and kept my thoughts to
myself, but this is too much, ikke sant? Too much . . .
‘The whale is perfectly knowable by science. We can shoot
him with a harpoon and haul him out of the water. We can even
dissect him and learn everything there is to know about him. I
really don’t think you philosophers can tell us about the real
essence of a whale any more than you can tell us the real essence
of this causation thing that you are always talking about.’
I looked to Petter for some support. Once again he frustrated
me, sitting silently by and allowing his neighbour to assault me
with such vicious words.
‘If you ask me, philosophy is just created to keep people in
work who have nothing useful that they can do. They say they
seek the truth but cannot be bothered to get off their chairs and
go and look for it. Nor can they be bothered to learn the precise
methods of science, because the training is too long and
demanding, ikke sant? Tell us, Ben, why are you a philosopher, if
I have not identified the right reason there?’
‘I am a philosopher because I respect the truth above
everything else,’ I replied defiantly, ‘and I am convinced that
philosophy is the right way to find it, certainly for the sorts of
question I address. How can you say that I have any other motive?
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 163

I am passionate about the truths of philosophy: I have given my

life to their pursuit. It seems to me that the problem is mainly
that you don’t understand what philosophy is.’
‘Surely there are other motives for a clever man like you,
Benedict,’ Odd came back. ‘You have made yourself a comfortable
living, with wealth and fame, by being a professor of philosophy.
You don’t have to get your hands dirty as we do in the north of
Norway. You can have everything taken care of for you. And then
you publish your books and have the admiration and praise of
your readers. What a comfortable life that is.’
I replied ‘I don’t think you understand the pain of philosophy
and the frustrations that we philosophers go through – don’t we,
Petter – when we are struggling with the truth. When we are
unable to find answers, we almost feel like killing ourselves, don’t
we Petter?’
I looked to Petter for a nod, but there was none. I realised that
I needed to make a convincing case.
So I thought.
‘Let me tell you,’ I started, ‘. . . about the myth of Gyges’ ring,
except that in my version of the story, the ring has a different
ability from the one that is best known.’
Petter already knew the original tale but none of the others
said they did so I needed to tell it in full, and I added all the new
embellishments I wanted.
‘Here is my story . . .
164 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

‘Gyges was out walking among the rocks one day when his
eye was caught by something on the ground that was shining. He
went to look closer and found that it was a golden ring. It was a
regular circle except for a flattened top that was decorated with a
letter T. He liked the ring – perhaps it was also valuable – so he
tried it on and found that it fitted his longest finger perfectly.
Quite happy with his unexpected find, he walked on and went
about his daily business.
‘Gyges continued to wear the ring after he returned home. But
he also noticed something very strange going on around him. To
his surprise and puzzlement, he realised that when he now spoke,
everyone who heard seemed to believe what he said in its entirety.
This was astonishing to Gyges because, like everyone else, he was
used to listeners doubting what he said occasionally, or even
arguing with him, over whether something was true or not. This
came to light only gradually at first, when he ventured opinions
that he knew were controversial, but only to find that everyone
believed that opinion. He started to wonder whether people
would believe anything that he said. To test this, he casually
slipped into conversation some obvious untruths, such as that it
was summer when he knew it was winter, and to his amazement,
he found that people consented to his version of events. As he
continued with these experiments, he even had one elderly man
agree with him that he, Gyges, was that man’s mother. After a
number of such absurd claims went unchallenged, he started to
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 165

think that everyone would believe anything that he said, for this
trick seemed to work on any person with whom he tried it.
‘But there was something else to this. One day Gyges removed
his gold ring, bearing the letter T, to go and bathe and then he
forgot to put it back on afterwards. He went about his business and
happened to say something false, unthinkingly, only to find that
the listener shook his head and said “I don’t think so”. This was a
shock for Gyges as it had by now been some weeks since anyone
challenged his assertions. So he ran to find someone else and
talked about who should be next leader of the country. He ventured
his opinion and, again, his listener disagreed.
‘The thought occurred to Gyges that his special power of
being believable had worn off. But he needn’t have feared. When
he returned home, he saw his ring and realised he had not been
wearing it. When he put it back on, things were as they had been
previously; namely, that everyone believed him again.
‘I will spare you the details of all that happened following this.
Basically, he tried some time with the ring on and some time
with the ring off and formed the view, based on numerous trials,
that when he wore the ring people believed everything he said
was true. When he didn’t wear the ring, he was just like everyone
else, where people sometimes believe us and sometimes don’t.
From this evidence, he thought that the ring had to be the cause.
The ring possessed, he decided, a very special ability to make the
wearer believed, no matter what he or she said. The only exception
166 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

to this was Gyges himself. He was immune to the extent that he

himself didn’t have to believe everything he said. He still knew
when he was saying something false. This, he realised, was very
useful.
‘He did wonder, though, why anyone would throw away such
a ring. So it must have been lost accidentally, he concluded.
‘Now that was not quite the end of the matter. For reasons I
need not go into, one day Gyges found himself wearing the ring
upside down; that is, with the T-emblem facing down, instead of
up and presentable to the world. Because it was now inside his
hand, no one he spoke to could see the T of his ring. What
happened in this case was even more astonishing to Gyges,
familiar, as he was, with always being believed. What he now
found was that others thought that everything he said was false,
even in those instances where Gyges was pretty sure that it was
true. To test this, Gyges said the most uncontroversial thing, such
as asserting at night time that it was the night. But even with
such an obvious truth as this, the listener disagreed. Gyges did
not like this at all, and already thinking the ring to be possessed
of magic powers, he quickly twisted it around so that the T was
back on top.’
‘Why are you telling us this silly story that could never be
true?’ interjected Inger.
‘Please, if you just let me finish, I hope you will see the point,’
I answered. And then I resumed.
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 167

‘Now with a few more experiments, Gyges was able to

confirm that if he wore the ring the right way up, he was
always believed, and if he wore it upside down, he was never
believed. He concluded that the ring had these two powers: to
make the wearer believed or not believed, depending on how it
was worn.
‘I can now answer Inger about why it is worth telling such a
fantastic tale, even though I grant that it could never be true. The
point is that it allows us to ask a question. And it is the most
important question you will ever hear pass from my lips. It is a
question I would like you all now to consider.
‘It is this. Is it better to know the truth even if no one believes
you; or to have people believe what you say even when you know
it is false?’
I left the question hanging for some moments to give
everyone a chance to ponder it. I noted that even Ragnhild
and Solan had listened to my story and were thinking it
through.
Glances were exchanged around the table, each person trying
to see on the face of the others what their answers would be. Marie
spoke first.
‘Would you really want to be believed if you knew you were
speaking falsely?’ she asked.
‘I do think so,’ I replied: ‘at least in some circumstances. After
all, isn’t this the position of every successful liar? Some of our
168 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

most famed politicians are those who knowingly tell lies that
people believe. But I am asking you to consider, are they really
better off than those people who believe they are speaking the
truth, even though no one agrees with them?’
‘I can see that it would be frustrating,’ pointed out Biret, ‘to
know what you are saying is true and not to be believed.’
‘Yes, it is,’ I replied, and smiled knowingly at Biret. ‘If someone
has seen the Huldra, for instance, and no one believes him, this is
very annoying for the man. It can be more than frustrating. If no
one ever believes him, and he is sure he saw the Huldra, it would
take him to the brink of madness!’
Marie spoke out and said that if she were Gyges, she would
take the ring off and throw it away. It was evil. It was no good for
people always to believe you, nor for people always to doubt you.
What everyone needed, and should want, is that others believe
them when they speak the truth and challenge them when they
speak falsely. Otherwise, she said, how do we ever correct our
own misapprehensions?
I immediately told Marie that I agreed with that. It seems that
one can only ever learn if one is willing to be told that one is
wrong, when one is wrong, otherwise one would persist in
believing falsely, which no one really wants.
‘So this brings us to the crux of the matter,’ I adjudicated. ‘Let
us forget about the ring, now, for it was only a way of getting to
the key question of truth. Would you rather believe a truth even
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 169

though everyone else thinks it is false: and perhaps thinks you a

fool for believing it? Or would you prefer for people always to
agree with you, no matter what?’
Bård spoke up. ‘I think the ring, and the question, are not so
far-fetched. When somebody loves you, they tend to believe
everything you say. But then when they stop loving you, they
tend to believe nothing you say.’
Almost everyone around the table laughed at this observa-
tion, while also realising that Bård was probably not trying to
be amusing. Perhaps it was the tragedy of that life-truth that
amused them.
Biret now spoke out. ‘I suppose that the truth is what really
matters. But you admit it can be frustrating to know a truth when
no one believes you. As long as Gyges himself knows whether or
not he is speaking the truth, his life would be happier when
everyone believed him.’
‘That may be true,’ I replied to Biret, ‘although we may still
have to answer the sorts of worry Marie raised. There could
actually be some value in having to convince people about what
you believe, otherwise you might start to lose a grip on what is
true and what is false.
‘So Biret has made me think of the last and final way of asking
the question, and this is the formulation that forces the issue. The
question is simply this. Which is better of these two cases, and I
am offering you only these two. Would you rather believe a truth
170 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

even though everyone else thinks it false, or believe a falsehood

with which everyone else agrees?
‘I am not now speaking of what happens in general – about what
happens every time. Here we just have two single statements. If you
believe the latter, everyone will agree that you are right. But it
happens to be false. If you believe the former, which is true, everyone
will think you are wrong. So which is best of these two options?’
‘And in both cases, you genuinely believe the claim that you
make?’ asked Petter, for clarification.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Your belief in both cases is genuine. You believe
both of these things because you think them to be true. But you
were right only in the first case.’
Finally, Odd spoke out. As usual, he had been hanging back,
slyly listening and planning his attack against me.
‘It is obvious how you want us to reply, Benedict. It’s like you
are leading us down the garden path.
‘You want us to say that it’s always better to know the truth,
even if you’re the only one that does. You want us to say that the
agreement of everyone else in the whole world matters not one
bit if what you believe is false. You want us to say that truth is all
that counts, don’t you?’
‘Well, isn’t that right?’ I replied. ‘What other sane response
could you have to the question?’
‘But do you really believe it, Ben? Or is this just about that
stupid whale again?’
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 171

How insulting of Odd. But it was what I had come to expect. I

tried not to show any of my anger, which was rising again.
‘Yes, I believe it,’ I said assertively. ‘The truth is all that matters.
And if you have it, then that is more important than whether
other people believe you. Perhaps it is nice when others agree
with you, or good to feel that you have shown someone the truth
when they previously did not know it. But these are not the
essential matters. Truth is sovereign. And that is what my
question was designed to show. We all want to know the truth,
first and foremost, regardless of what others think, because we
would always prefer to know the true than to believe the false.
And all the agreement in the world from others would not
compensate for believing a falsehood.’
Odd did not give up. ‘Maybe you are right then. You have
convinced me,’ he said. And for a moment I hoped that my task
this evening was complete and I could go and stagger off down
the hill to have my final night of sleep in the cabin.
‘But,’ he continued, ‘what I am not convinced of is that you
really believe this. Isn’t this all just appearance? You tell us that
you believe only in truth. You have to say this to be a credible
philosopher. But is that really all you believe in?’
I was provoked. ‘Of course it’s what I believe in. How can you
doubt me after all I have said?’
‘Words are fine,’ replied Odd.‘But your actions betray a different
reality. If you really believed that truth was all that mattered you
172 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

should be happy simply to know the truth. You wouldn’t even

need to tell anyone else about it. So why have you come here to
Bakkan to tell us all what you think and try to persuade us that it
is right? Our approval is irrelevant to you, isn’t it?’
What an insult that was. I had never once gone inflicting my
views on others. I was here precisely to discover the truth.
Nothing more. And I told him that each time I had related my
ideas to the others it was because I had been invited to do so; and
this was sometimes against my own wishes. But I was merely
sharing ideas among friends in any case and it should not be
regarded as a bad thing. I would never impose my ideas on other
people if they didn’t want to hear them. I had been asked.
Odd wouldn’t let it go. ‘That’s laughable,’ he said, and I felt my
anger rise to breaking point.
‘You have written lots of papers and books, haven’t you? And
in not one case was it because you had been asked to do so,’ he
asserted. ‘You decided to write them because you wanted to,
because it would further your career. They are an imposition,
published as a self-serving vanity.’
I said ‘No, categorically not! As long as I understand the truth,
it doesn’t matter to me whether anyone reads my books. I like to
write because it helps me to order my own thoughts. But it is not
as if I am trying to “sell” my ideas. People can take them or leave
them. And it doesn’t really even matter whether my writing
makes it into the public arena or not.’
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 173

‘Very well, then.’ Odd said. ‘If you really are being truthful
with us now, this minute, then you should be prepared to write
up all the ideas you have had here in Bakkan – which you have
told us are really very important ideas and the solutions to all
your problems – and let them sit in a closed drawer rather than
see the light of day. You should agree in front of all of us here
tonight that you will not publish these ideas for the public within
your lifetime.’
Everyone around the table looked at me.
‘How could that work?’ I asked.
‘It would be simple enough,’ said Odd. ‘Once your ideas are
written down, lodge the manuscript with your solicitor with an
instruction that it cannot be published until after your death.
Leave the details to your executor. And that way we will all know,
and believe you, that the truth is your only concern, rather than
book sales or the admiration of readers.’
With Odd’s challenge, I realised that I was trapped. How could
I not agree to those terms? I would seem a hypocrite if I didn’t.
I looked around the room. The faces stared back, waiting on
my answer. Odd and Inger seemed to have some glee on theirs.
From Petter, Bård and, I think, Marie, there was a look of pity.
The children were playing still, with very few pieces now left.
‘Ah, the endgame,’ I thought to myself.
Only Biret seemed to look upon me in a way that granted me
my dignity. Her eyes evinced sympathy and care but, I thought,
174 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

without condescension. I supposed that, perhaps, she still

believed in me. I could not let her down. She trusted me, I
believed. I couldn’t admit to her that I was a fraud, insecure, a
worthless attention seeker.
There was no choice. I looked straight at Odd. I tried to appear
defiant, unrepentant, unmoved. I tried to sound calm and
measured. I held my chin up.
And then I declared ‘You might not have believed me until
now. What I say is right.
‘Truth is all that matters. And so I will agree to your demand
in every detail. I will indeed write down all these thoughts I have
had in Bakkan. And I will be content with that. I am satisfied that
I have found the truth. It is the only matter. I will leave it with my
solicitor. I agree that it will not see publication or any form of
public release until after I am dead.’
It was the end of the argument.
‘Sjakk Matt!’ called Ragnhild. With that, I saw that Solan was
defeated.

* * * * *

I carried my burden out of that house and by Northern Light

made my way tentatively downhill. My thoughts turned to the
question of what I had learnt on this visit to Bakkan. I had spent
these days thinking about philosophy and, I now realised, the
world in general. Undeniably I had been changed by my six days
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 175

in the Arctic but in ways I did not yet fully understand. I had
come exclusively for solitude and quiet meditation. I had not got
that. But I had found some truths: truths which I had now
promised I wouldn’t reveal. Was knowledge consolation enough?
Did I believe my own story of Gyges? How unreasonable it had
been of those around me to insist I keep this whole story a secret.
Yet, I was struck by something else about them too.
When I considered my time here, I saw that all the main
breakthroughs in my thinking were not really a result of
meditation. They came from my interactions with the others. I
saw the light catch Ragnhild’s axe before it came down and
smashed apart the firewood and this made me see the
fundamentality of causation. I had been challenged by Odd
to show that science could not deny the reality of causation
because it rested upon it. And Bård had then come and made
me explain how God could fit into this world, which I later
developed in answer to Marie and Biret, just this night.
And Biret . . . wasn’t she the biggest inspiration of all? She
made me understand the importance of language in holding a
people together and I saw that this had to involve their interaction.
But I recalled also, and perhaps more importantly, that Biret
made me see the sun. Might I otherwise have stayed, throughout
my time, in my cabin, like some kind of prehistoric cave-dweller?
Then I would have stayed forever in the winter darkness, doing
my thinking by candlelight. The brightness was too much for me,
176 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT

and for all of us, when earlier in the day the sun finally appeared
over the mountains. We had to look away. But I now realised that
this was often the way. Just like the light, truth is hard to accept at
first, especially after emerging from the darkness of falsehood.
The only option is to turn away, and that is what Odd, Inger and
Bård did. At least I could recognise the truth as the truth.
Almost at the bottom of the hill, and my cold, dark cabin, I
saw a stirring in the fjord. The surface was broken by a big tail fin,
which smacked down on the water, creating a huge splash.
Then it went back below and was gone, all quiet again. I waited
and watched. For how long? I wasn’t sure. But I know that I
started to shiver. Could I really have imagined the whale song
those nights? Did I not see the tail fin, twice today? I would have
to be completely deluded to have conjured up these experiences
for myself.
I was about to give up and started considering whether it was
worth lighting a fire at this late hour. I made to move and so to
complete the last few steps of my night. Suddenly, I was awe-
struck by the sight and sound – which I’d never before witnessed
– of the humpback breaching out of the water. It leapt up, a huge
and wonderful creature, head first, almost straight vertically, but
then turning. When it reached a horizontal position, I swear its
entire body was out of the water. Overcome by a sense of wonder,
I stopped breathing, open mouthed. And it was then with a
magnificent, deep, booming, echoing impact that the whale
 OBJECTIONS AND REPLIES 177

landed back down in the water, the splash seemingly disturbing

the whole fjord.
The spectacle seemed unmissable and unmistakable. I turned
and looked back towards the house. I could just make out the
light from a window at which I saw the silhouette of someone
looking. Looking down. On me. I stared back. But there was no
movement.
I went into my cabin and got straight into the bed and slept.

* * * * *

The next morning I rose early and didn’t bother to light the stove.
I dressed quickly and, under cover of darkness, left my hut for
the final time. I had brought everything of mine down from the
house last night so that I needn’t disturb Petter and his family as
I made my departure. I could not resist walking to the end of the
pier for one last look, staring out into the black water of the fjord.
I took a few moments for one final meditation. Others had trod
this earth before me and many more would do so afterwards. We
were all seekers after truth and yet, in our short lives, none of us
could catch more than a glimpse of it. To be a drop in that vast
ocean was perhaps as much as we could ever hope.
I picked up my baggage, ascended the slippery slope, and
vanished down the path out of Bakkan.