Enlightened or Ignorant?

Frank Kelleter, in his piece entitled "Franklin and the Enlightenment," draws upon a passage from a letter that Ben Franklin wrote to Mary Stevenson in 1760. The passage itself is an analysis of the effects an earthquake in Lisbon had on its citizens. The passage is as follows: "[A] great number of strata of different kinds are brought up to day, and a great variety of useful materials put into power, which would otherwise have remained eternally concealed from us. So that what has been usually looked upon as a ruin suffered by this part of the universe, was, in reality, only a preparation, or means of rendering the earth more fit for use, more capable of being to mankind a convenient and comfortable habitation." Kelleter suggests that these words reflect Franklin's sentiment that such natural disasters are ultimately useful or beneficial to human knowledge and happiness. Upon first reading this passage and Kelleter's commentary, I came to the same conclusion. I have always been utterly stunned by human beings' ability to come together and cooperate in what always seems to be a peaceful and nurturing manner in the face of an unthinkable catastrophe. In news coverage of almost every natural disaster in recent memory, there is a plethora of photographs in which complete strangers can be seen hugging each other, helping each other, comforting each other, and appearing as though there is truly such thing as genuine human kindness. Though I don't believe I've ever experienced it myself, I have always enjoyed holding the fairly common belief that in times of inordinate sorrow and disruption, there is a human element within us all that cannot be denied. I take comfort in believing that underneath the hate, anger, and unhappiness, kindness and charity are actually basic human instincts. These are the qualities captured in photographs taken in the wake of last year's tornadoes in Alabama and Missouri. Yet, the longer I live and the more I witness, I begin to question this notion more frequently. One thing I have found interesting is the juxtaposition of an event like the tornadoes in Alabama and the riots in London that BF'sMainSqueeze reflected upon in her last post. How is it possible that tornado victims in the South can mourn the loss of their homes and places of industry while citizens of London seemingly took such pleasure in destroying theirs? After all, we are all human beings; one species. Is it possible that if the tornado victims, having showed such humility in the wake of the tornadoes, had been supplanted in London during the riots that they would have taken part? If the rioters had lived through the tornadoes in Tuscaloosa, would there have been pictures and reports documenting their propensity for kindness and generosity? I was born and raised in New York City, and my father was there for the Hurricane Irene scare. He told me that he witnessed physical altercations in grocery stores as people tried to stock up in preparation for the pending storm. He described it as, "basic human instinct kicking in." No one wanted to go home without the things they needed - the things that might aid their survival. I find this description interesting because city dwellers, in my experience, tend to fancy themselves "enlightened." Though I did not raise my hand in class when Professor Cervantes asked whether we believed we were enlightened or not, I responded with a booming "ABSOLUTELY!" in my head. How could I not be enlightened? I was raised in Manhattan, the most enlightened place on the planet! I eat organic food, recycle, read the news, and a variety of other things people tend to categorize as enlightened behavior. Above all, though, I think I like to see myself as an enlightened person due to my education. I attended a highly esteemed school from Kindergarten through twelfth grade, and am now receiving an education from a top notch university. I would like to think that my education has equipped me with the power to react to a disaster the way the citizens of Joplin, Missouri did, but I couldn't possibly be certain of that unless I am faced with such a situation. Additionally, what right do I have to assume that I wouldn't have participated in the riots in London had I been given the chance? I interpreted Franklin's words in the passage above to mean that there are moments in life when the most admired of human traits appear before our eyes and we have the chance to witness firsthand the awesome power of humanity. These are moments in which, if only for a brief time, our faith in the human spirit is restored, and we are made aware once again that we are capable of coping with the unthinkable. Yet in my experience, very rarely do these moments occur in places that are considered to be enlightened. I would bet that London and New York are two locations in which an overwhelming majority of the citizens would claim to be enlightened. After all, such bustling metropolitan areas tend to attract highly educated and motivated individuals. In his article, Kelleter states, "Enlightened knowledge, Franklin implies, exists independently of... scholastic learning... In Franklin's times, to be reasonable did not mean to be more intelligent or more learned than the next man, but it meant to free oneself from dogmatic beliefs... they spoke of democratic reason as common sense, a sense of reason common to all people, regardless of social status and educational background," (p. 78). It seems that people such as myself have simply come to believe we are enlightened, but for the most part have not earned the status. What good is an outstanding education if it is not used to further one's fundamental understanding of the world, and to topple falsities in a quest for truth? Perhaps thinking of oneself as enlightened in today's terms is the farthest one can be from a state of actual enlightenment.