Sparks are one of my favourite bands. Whatever the subject matter, you can rely on them to offer a new perspective, from celestial smash hits to Scandinavian design. So, who better to feature in my next Pop Song Philosophy analysis than the ever-reflective Mael brothers? Those Mysteries addresses all the big questions – so let’s get stuck in, and see what we can solve.

Opening verses: so many questions

Why is there time? Why is there space?
Why are there dogs and cats and trees and the human race?
And why am I here and not over there?
Oh why (why oh why), oh why (why oh why)?

And why are there nuns? And why do they pray?
And where do we go when we pass away?
And why, when I ask my Dad, does he say
‘Go ask your Mom or just go away’?
And OK, I’ll go away, but they won’t go away

There are different sorts of questions, aren’t there? On the one hand, we have those pragmatic, prosaic problems that are (relatively) easily solved: Google it, or ask your teacher, or learn for yourself by trial and error. For example, “What time is the football on tonight?“, or “How do I make lasagne?”

Then we have the Big Questions. The ones that keep us up at night, and perplex us when asked by our kids. In particular, there’s a word that looms large in this sort of question – one that never gets tired, one that can be deployed by toddlers and philosophers alike, ad infinitum. “Why?“

Of course, you can start by offering the prosaic answers. Why are there dogs? Well, they evolved from wolves over thousands of years, selected and domesticated by humans along the way. Why am I here? Well, a series of causally-linked events put you there, each one governed by the laws of physics. But these kinds of answers miss the point. Questions like these, questions in this second category, yearn to be answered, to be explained; but at the same time, any answer provided is doomed to be a let-down, a disappointment. Douglas Adams articulated it well in his fictional supercomputer’s “answer” to Life, the Universe and Everything: how can mysteries as big as these ever be satisfied by a perfunctory, mundane solution like “42”?

Behind the big questions seems to lie an anxiety, a feeling that perhaps life ultimately has no meaning. It’s a kind of dread that’s often known as existential angst. Søren Kierkegaard, writing in the 19th century, saw this feeling as a sign of self-consciousness. Experiencing angst betrays an awareness that we’re out here, let loose in the world, free to decide our path for ourselves. The philosophy that grew out of this outlook, existentialism, offers empowerment in a world that seems to lack meaning in itself.

Chorus: can we find the answers?

Ooh, those mysteries
Tomorrow I’ll find out all I should know
Those mysteries
I don’t even know what I don’t even know
Those mysteries
They’re hanging ’round and around and ’round and ’round

“Mysteries” is a good way to describe the big questions we all have about the meaning of life. But can they, actually, ever be solved? Singer Russell Mael seems optimistic at first in the chorus: “Tomorrow I’ll find out all I should know“. But then the sheer size of the task seems to strike: “I don’t even know what I don’t even know“.

To be honest, it’s not looking good. We know that humans have been gnawing away at questions about life and death, good and evil, meaning and purpose, since Ancient Greek times at least – and while plenty of answers have been put forward, universally accepted solutions are on the sparse side. Philosophy is different from science in that way: it’s a field where progress isn’t straightforward, and proof is, by nature, not always possible. Those who have religious faith – including plenty of philosophers – might find their answers that way, and there are plenty of other ideas about the meaning of life that are convincing to some. But undisputed, uncontroversial, satisfying answers? There aren’t many of those about.

Let’s say we’re pessimistic, and we don’t think Russell’s going to solve the mysteries tomorrow. Why do we think that is?

Well firstly, it could be because there ARE no answers. There’s no truth of the matter about “why”. There’s no right or wrong; no inherent meaning behind our existence. Perhaps the question doesn’t even, really, make sense. If you think this, you might like to call yourself a nihilist. Depending on how you feel, nihilism can be freeing or depressing, but at least, perhaps, you can let the questions rest.

Or what if the answers do exist, but there’s just no way of discovering them? This is a philosophical position that rests on knowledge, or epistemology. If you think these philosophical questions are just not answerable, at least by our minds, then you could style yourself an epistemological nihilist. That’s logically compatible, if you want it to be, with the nihilism outlined above, OR with the thought that those truths are real and “out there” somewhere. (But a truth out there you can’t ever access is the ultimate frustration – no wonder the questions keep “hanging ’round and around and ’round and ’round“).

Later verses: the questions just won’t go away

Why is there you? Why is there me?
Why does my mother kiss my father occasionally?
And why am I sore whenever I’m hit?
Oh why (why oh why), oh why (why oh why)?

And why is there France? And why is there Spain?
And why am I here and why is there rain?
And why, when I ask my Dad, does he say
‘Go ask your Mom or just go away’?
And OK, I’ll go away, but they won’t go away

No wonder the Dad’s getting frustrated. Humanity has had millennia to ponder the “why” questions, so it’s a tall order to expect him to come up with the goods. Especially when he’s sorting the bins, or washing the car. But in the end, you know, Russell is right: the questions don’t go away. So, is there any point in paying attention to them, even if you’re already a paid-up nihilist?

Well, minds that ask these unanswerable questions are also likely to question the status quo in other areas: they critically examine the prevailing beliefs and assumptions, rather than blindly accepting what they are told. That might not always be welcome to harassed parents (or government leaders), but it will stand you in good stead as you move through this mysterious life.

Thinking more on this subject, you might want to read about a different Russell – Bertrand Russell – who wrote about the value of philosophy, and the benefits that critical thinking can bring.

Got the answers? I’d love to hear them

Maybe I’ve given up a bit too easily and you’d like to put me right on how to solve the mysteries of life. Or perhaps you just want to show your appreciation for Sparks? Either way, please comment below!