The Philosophy of Dune

Destiny isn't a matter of chance; it's a matter of choice. It's not a thing to be waited for; it's a thing to be achieved.

Have you ever felt like you're living a life that was designed for you? Like you found a way to make money with your passions, you're dating your dream partner, and suddenly everything feels like it was meant to be? Some call this destiny, a fate that was predetermined for you. But what is destiny? Is it a place we have no control over, a destination we would always arrive at no matter what we do? Or is destiny a matter of choice, a thing to be achieved?

This concept of destiny is one that we find in the media all around us. From ancient folklore to modern comic book heroes, our society likes to tell stories about heroes and their destinies. One of the best pieces of media I've seen surrounding this topic is the 1965 novel by Frank Herbert, Dune. For most, Dune is just another Hollywood blockbuster, but to me, Dune isn't just a story; it's rich with philosophical questions about destiny, morality, humanity, and personal identity.

This is the philosophy of Dune. The story of Dune is based on a straightforward assumption: that humans are adaptable. The people in Dune, who live almost 10,000 years in the future, have learned how to adapt to changing planetary environments, repeatedly restart their lives in governments, and turn seemingly inhospitable environments to their advantage.

So the first lesson that Dune teaches us, before the story even starts, is that resilience isn't just about enduring hardship, but about learning how to harness it and find our strength. This raises more questions about the philosophy of action. What exactly constitutes the future? We all make many decisions and actions that we take responsibility for daily, but almost all of those decisions have consequences that we can't see and never intended.

My foot moves the sand around when I step into the sand, displacing sand particles and even smaller molecules, but my intention has nothing to do with the sand—I'm simply trying to walk forward. If, but due to his powers and the destiny thrust upon him, his existence ripples on his entire world, this of course raises questions about power.

Because we are all flawed, corruption Paul's sister, Alia, falls victim to the allure of power in the novel—because power can corrupt from within, even in the best and most well-intentioned minds. But Dune teaches us that power is to serve, not to dominate; and that any pursuit of power, unchecked by morality, can lead to the erosion of individuals and, in turn, society.

Paul's ultimate moral question will have to do with a vision that he sees of a brutal extermination of billions of people in the future. However, this extermination will lead to humanity as a whole being saved. Decisions like these are difficult, and your choice will never feel good. This is why Paul's story is captivating—he's forced to either continue on his path, knowing the disaster ahead and of the human race.

Whether we can rationalize this decision comes down to whether we think there's a difference between allowing things to happen and taking active measures to ensure they do. Can you be morally culpable if you simply leave the trolley on its current course, since you didn't actively participate in the death of anyone? Paul's moral predicament teaches us a lesson about knowledge. Just because we know something to be true, or in Paul's case know something will happen, should we revolve all of our decisions around it?

Every decision we make has a ripple effect on our lives and the lives of those around us. Even though knowledge and the logic that comes from it can be a guiding force, it's not everything. Dune reminds us that the universe and its intangible powers are always one step ahead of whatever logic or answers we think we might have. Life is often more about the unseen parts than the parts we can see.

Of course, for Paul, more is foreseen than for most of us, which raises the idea of memory and identity. The question Dune raises is: Is Paul a singular being with different memories housed within him, or are the memories within him many different beings inhabiting his consciousness? He wasn't born with these memories, though; he acquires them ceremoniously as an adult. At this point, he's already formed an identity of his own, so perhaps the memories that inhibit him aren't actually changing who he is.

But we all know that who we are as adults is also fluid. Even if we like to think our brains and hearts are fully formed, we might have a strong sense of self, but our identity continues to shift. We might not be able to experience our ancestors' memories literally; still, we certainly can inherit attributes and even trauma from our family members that impact who we are and who we grow up to be. Our relationship to growth—how we embrace it or how we avoid it—growth is an act of pursuit, not something that happens to us.

Without large-scale growth, survival on a larger scale might not be possible. In Dune, each faction's survival, before the story begins, depends on advancing and mastering specific skills and ways of living. Then, when we live with Paul through his journey, we see how the world of Dune has to evolve to further serve humanity's ultimate survival, even if that evolution and growth aren't always pretty.

The warning of Dune might ring true to our times. If you glance at the id land in resource-stripped environments, at its heart, it's a story about global warming and its repercussions. It is about us needing to diversify where we live as a species to survive and reminding us that the future isn't certain.

Even then, Dune forces us to confront difficult questions about our world and look beyond our individual lives into our collective lives in the near or far future. Is it imperative for humans to get off Earth? Futurists would answer yes. They would insist that we have to spread out to ensure our survival. We would need to populate new environments that aren't on this planet because we already face the reality that our planet can't always sustain us.

In Dune, Paul's difficult moral question—to allow extreme violence in the future—is for this large-scale survival to happen. But what if we ask a more profound question: Does humanity deserve to be saved at all? If Paul had intervened and stopped the violence, humanity might have failed in the end. But why do we assume that's a bad thing? If we remove our obvious self-interest, might we see another side to Paul's choice?

To help us better understand the far-reaching question, we have to ask: Is there something valuable about humanity's survival? Do we inherently have something good, important, or unique to offer the universe, without which it would be worse off? Things get tricky. We drain natural resources and start wars, and we have arguably pushed ourselves and our natural world closer to the brink of disaster than if we hadn't been here in the first place.

Maybe theoretically, the survival of the human race isn't what we or Paul should prefer. The only way for humanity to expand in Dune is through violence and tyranny. Maybe it isn't worth it. Everything does come to an end at some point. One benefit we might present in our favor as a race is the creation of aesthetic beauty: art, music, and intellectually creative pursuits can be left behind and learned from. Humans are uniquely suited to make these things. We innovate and we create.

Unless another alien species might be out there that can do something similar, our unique creativity is lost forever. But then, does the universe benefit from this innovation, or do we only create for selfish reasons? Dune forces us to look at the cost of certain decisions, even at the sacrifice of humanity altogether.

Often we make sacrifices and don't know exactly how they'll play out for the future. We sacrifice time with our family and friends to start a business we're passionate about, without knowing if that business will be successful. But we do it because we have a vision of our future. It's scary, but a life without sacrifice is a life without growth.

To live a life with sacrifice, you need courage. Without courage, the story of Dune wouldn't be possible. Although Paul inherits the powers and memories of his ancestors, without the courage to overcome his fear, his journey wouldn't exist. His ancestors understand that fear is a natural reaction, and know it can paralyze us. We've all felt it. The fear of starting a new job, becoming a parent, or going down a ski mountain for the first time—it can stop us in our tracks and make us second guess ourselves.

Fear can stop us from pursuing what we really want and even what we're meant to be. It can stop us from fulfilling our destiny. In Dune, Paul faces his fear, but facing fear doesn't mean getting rid of it. We will never have a life without fear. Facing fear is instead about mastering it, analyzing our fear, and knowing every inch of it.

Paul embraces his fear with courage and self-awareness to become the man he is meant to be. We, like Paul, aren't perfect. We make tough calls hoping they're the moral ones and accept that sometimes they just might not be. But the moment we pursue life with fear and let that fear control us, we fall victim to ourselves. We lose control.

But if we can overcome that fear with courage, take the bull by the horns, and decide the course of our lives, we will certainly lose some things, but we will gain much more.

If you like this style of video where I analyze philosophy or psychology behind popular media, let me know. There's definitely some other movies and books that I'd like to get into; you can leave your suggestions in the comments below.