The telos of jellyfish
Created | Updated Sep 21, 2003
Telos: Philosophical jargon for "purpose" (in a "meaning of life" kind of way!)
Most creatures on this Earth, however gruesome, I can cope with. Although earwigs are not exactly pleasant, I can see how they might make a good meal for other animals, and how being an earwig might be quite a laugh. However, jellyfish I have a huge problem with. This may seem a little irrational and bizarre, but I just cannot see the point of their existence. Not only are they the most grotesquely hideous inventions conceivable, but they also appear to be utterly purposeless. In this rather bewildered little chain of thought which floated through the airy clump of fluff between my ears whilst I huddled in terror on a rock in the middle of a bay, waiting for one of these most foul sea monsters to pass so I could swim to safety, I crudely attempted to discover the telos of jellyfish.
So, what is the telos of a jellyfish?
Unlike other items we have studied in philosophy with the aim of deducing their purpose, such as the clock on the wall, a spade, and the great man himself Mr Russell Buley, none of the physical features of a jellyfish appear to point to any function which could be in any way useful or entertaining. True, it seems to have been designed to drift aimlessly around, but this in itself does not seem to be a very exciting "meaning of life". Indeed, looking at life from the jellyfish's point of view depicts an existence which is no more riveting than being a spoon, or for that matter a bit of cheese. In other words, being a jellyfish is as monotonous as spending all day trying to carry water in a sieve. Life comprises of flobbering randomly around wiggling one's tentacles. Fun.
The only way a jellyfish can possibly amuse itself is to rampantly besiege the beach, terrorising tourists and causing havoc, a pastime which is only possible when the current is right, in which case its quest would most probably amount to a gruesome end, sprawled out on the beach looking like a miniature millennium dome and being poked with a shovel by a small child.
From an anthropocentric perspective, the telos of a jellyfish seems even more mysterious. Unlike the majority of sealife, these creatures are perfectly unattractive and do not taste good with chips unless poisoning yourself is what floats your boat, pops your cork or sinks your submarine. They also happen to be absolutely petrifying if you happen to be a child on a beach, particularly if the jellyfish in question has been washed up on the sand where it is lying like a giant pudding next to your revolting big brother, who has decided it is most humorous to poke the poor creature with a large stick.
Even from the point of view of the other sea creatures, jellyfish have no purpose except to be a menace. I most sincerly hope that they appear suitably unappetising to birds that they are saved the trauma of having to learn the hard way that a jellyfish is not crunchy and does not make a good snack.
So there we have it.
Jellyfish do not have a Telos, unless you count being washed up on beaches and being prodded by children in the process of developing a twisted sense of humour as an adequate purpose for existence!
They can also be considered as God's version of that bizarre instrument lurking in your Auntie's kitchen that nobody actually knows the intended purpose of. In other words, they were put on this Earth as objects of curiousity so that philosophers and eccentrics could sit around debating the telos of their existence!
Most creatures on this Earth, however gruesome, I can cope with. Although earwigs are not exactly pleasant, I can see how they might make a good meal for other animals, and how being an earwig might be quite a laugh. However, jellyfish I have a huge problem with. This may seem a little irrational and bizarre, but I just cannot see the point of their existence. Not only are they the most grotesquely hideous inventions conceivable, but they also appear to be utterly purposeless. In this rather bewildered little chain of thought which floated through the airy clump of fluff between my ears whilst I huddled in terror on a rock in the middle of a bay, waiting for one of these most foul sea monsters to pass so I could swim to safety, I crudely attempted to discover the telos of jellyfish.
So, what is the telos of a jellyfish?
Unlike other items we have studied in philosophy with the aim of deducing their purpose, such as the clock on the wall, a spade, and the great man himself Mr Russell Buley, none of the physical features of a jellyfish appear to point to any function which could be in any way useful or entertaining. True, it seems to have been designed to drift aimlessly around, but this in itself does not seem to be a very exciting "meaning of life". Indeed, looking at life from the jellyfish's point of view depicts an existence which is no more riveting than being a spoon, or for that matter a bit of cheese. In other words, being a jellyfish is as monotonous as spending all day trying to carry water in a sieve. Life comprises of flobbering randomly around wiggling one's tentacles. Fun.
The only way a jellyfish can possibly amuse itself is to rampantly besiege the beach, terrorising tourists and causing havoc, a pastime which is only possible when the current is right, in which case its quest would most probably amount to a gruesome end, sprawled out on the beach looking like a miniature millennium dome and being poked with a shovel by a small child.
From an anthropocentric perspective, the telos of a jellyfish seems even more mysterious. Unlike the majority of sealife, these creatures are perfectly unattractive and do not taste good with chips unless poisoning yourself is what floats your boat, pops your cork or sinks your submarine. They also happen to be absolutely petrifying if you happen to be a child on a beach, particularly if the jellyfish in question has been washed up on the sand where it is lying like a giant pudding next to your revolting big brother, who has decided it is most humorous to poke the poor creature with a large stick.
Even from the point of view of the other sea creatures, jellyfish have no purpose except to be a menace. I most sincerly hope that they appear suitably unappetising to birds that they are saved the trauma of having to learn the hard way that a jellyfish is not crunchy and does not make a good snack.
So there we have it.
Jellyfish do not have a Telos, unless you count being washed up on beaches and being prodded by children in the process of developing a twisted sense of humour as an adequate purpose for existence!
They can also be considered as God's version of that bizarre instrument lurking in your Auntie's kitchen that nobody actually knows the intended purpose of. In other words, they were put on this Earth as objects of curiousity so that philosophers and eccentrics could sit around debating the telos of their existence!
