Hélène Péras và Hàn Mặc Tử

Thụy Khuê

 

Cả cuộc đời ngắn ngủi, tan vỡ từ tuổi 24 vì bệnh cùi, Hàn Mặc Tử đã dành cho thơ, dành cho những tìm kiếm trinh trắng thiết tha giao hòa một tình yêu tuyệt vọng hướng về những người con gái đã xa, và cái cõi ngoài của tình yêu trần thế ấy, ở trong những bài thơ cuối cùng, Hàn Mặc Tử gọi là Thượng Thanh Khí.

 

Cho tới tận cùng của vô vọng, thơ Hàn luôn luôn là một êm ái dịu dàng, một ánh sáng vô minh, một niềm vui huyền diệu làm cho Hàn rung động đến phút cuối. Hàn viết: “Vườn thơ tôi rộng rinh không bờ bến. Càng đi xa càng ớn lạnh”.

 

Những lời trên đây của nhà xuất bản mà chúng tôi trích dịch ở bìa sau tập thơ Le Hameau des Roseaux (1), Đây Thôn Vĩ Dạ, như lời bạt (2), nói về nhà thơ mệnh yểu, mất năm 29 tuổi, mà Hélène Péras đã dịch, và dịch với những rung động đồng điệu của hai tâm hồn thơ, một Pháp, một Việt, gặp nhau trên cung bậc tha thiết và bí mật của thi ca.

 

Hàn Mặc Tử chúng ta đã biết, còn dịch giả là ai? Bà là ai mà hiểu Hàn đến thế? Ở đây chúng tôi không tìm đến những chữ hoặc những hình ảnh đôi chỗ còn có thể bàn lại, bởi vì biết dịch là khó, dịch thơ lại càng khó hơn. Và dịch thơ Hàn Mặc Tử không dễ dàng gì. Thường thường những nhà thơ lớn là những nhà thơ không thể dịch được. Nguyễn Du, từ Nguyễn Văn Vĩnh đến nay đã có biết bao nhiêu bản dịch Truyện Kiều sang tiếng Pháp, nhưng thường là các dịch giả mới chỉ viết thơ Nguyễn Du ra văn xuôi. Hôm nay, đối diện với Le Hameau des Roseaux, Đây Thôn Vĩ Dạ, độc giả có một tác phẩm của Hàn Mặc Tử được chuyển sang tiếng Pháp, dưới ngòi bút của nhà thơ Hélène Péras.

 

Tập thơ này, Hélène Péras đã dịch với sự cộng tác của Vũ Thị Bích, chứng tỏ mọi khó khăn rồi sẽ vượt qua với một tấm lòng, và từ nay, độc giả Pháp có thể tiếp cận với thơ Hàn Mặc Tử qua bản dịch, có lẽ là đầu tiên này.

 

Như chúng tôi vừa nói, dịch giả là một nhà thơ, nhưng trước đó, bà đã đi theo con đường triết học và y học, rõ hơn, Hélène Péras là bác sĩ phân tâm, luận án trình năm 1956 có tựa đề La notion d’intuition en psychopathologie -Khái niệm trực giác trong Bệnh lý học tâm thần. Thiếu thời đã làm thơ, nhưng nguồn thơ thực sự trở lại từ những năm 60. Tác phẩm đầu tiên của bà xuất hiện năm 1978, tựa đề Résonances – Ấm Vang. Tác phẩm thứ nhì, năm 1983, La mémoire et la voix – Ký Ức Và Tiếng Nói (Arfuyen, 1998). Tập thơ mới nhất Le dévoilement – Vén Màn, ngỏ thấy một khoảng trời thơ mà chất mãnh liệt nằm trong cái dịu dàng. Trước những hình ảnh có thể là thơ mộng, Hélène Péras vén màn vào những đau thương không hiểu được của thế giới vô minh, vô định. Bài thơ tựa đề Việt Nam, làm năm 1993 trong tập thơ này, đã giao hưởng những khía cạnh dịu dàng, tha thiết mà trào máu ấy.

 

Việt Nam, Hélène Péras đã đến từ khi bà bắt đầu tìm hiểu tiếng Việt gần mười năm nay, chuyến đi Việt Nam năm 1993 âm ỷ từ lâu, đã làm bà xao động, và có lẽ từ đó mà có quyết định dịch thơ Hàn Mặc Tử chăng? Le Hameau des Roseaux, Đây Thôn Vĩ Dạ, là một công phu, một cố gắng trong năm năm trời, với 60 bài thơ chọn lọc trong các tập Lệ Thanh thi tập, Gái Quê, Đau Thương, Xuân Như Ý và Thượng Thanh Khí. Bài Đây Thôn Vĩ Dạ, thường được xếp vào phần Hương Thơm trong tập Đau Thương, được dịch giả xếp vào Thượng Thanh Khí (3).

 

Hélène Péras không chỉ có dịch mà bà đã nghiên cứu về Hàn Mặc Tử, về thơ mới một cách sâu sắc, tận tình. Cuối tập thơ là một tiểu sử Hàn Mặc Tử, vừa chính xác, vừa kỹ càng. Hélène Péras đọc và viết tiếng Việt thành thạo, nhưng khi nói bà còn gặp khó khăn với những cách phát âm, e rằng người nghe khó tiếp nhận, cho nên bà nghĩ có lẽ tốt hơn hết, bà nói tiếng Pháp, rồi chúng tôi chuyển sang tiếng Việt.

 

Thụy Khuê: Thưa chị, lý do gì đã khiến chị tìm đến thơ Hàn Mặc Tử và không là một thi sĩ khác của Việt Nam?

 

Hélène Péras: Tại sao tôi lại đến với thơ Hàn Mặc Tử? Mọi sự xẩy ra như sau: Khi tôi bắt đầu tiếp cận tiếng Việt, tôi học với chị Vũ Thị Bích, bạn tôi, chị Bích đưa tôi đọc vài mẩu thơ của Hàn Mặc Tử và tôi cảm thơ ông từ đấy. Lúc ấy, tiếng Việt của tôi vẫn còn thô sơ, cho nên tôi phải học thêm, đào sâu thêm, và dần dần tiến thêm, tôi đọc được thơ Hàn Mặc Tử, sau đó tôi có ý định dịch và in tập thơ này, với sự cộng tác của chị Vũ Thị Bích, bởi vì, nếu không có chị thì chắc tôi đã không hoàn tất được tác phẩm này.

 

TK: Chị và chị Vũ Thị Bích đã làm việc như thế nào?

 

HP: Đây là một công việc dàn trải trên năm năm. Như tôi vừa nói lúc nẫy, bước đầu là tự tôi, phải đọc và hiểu thơ Hàn Mặc Tử, nhưng dĩ nhiên, với khả năng tiếng Việt còn non yếu, tôi phải nhờ chị Bích giúp, nhất là khi tôi dịch mà vấp phải những từ Hán Việt, hoặc những từ không có trong từ điển, chị Bích đã giúp tôi tránh dịch phản nghĩa, điều đó rất quan trọng. Và trong việc chọn lựa 60 bài thơ, chúng tôi cùng chọn với nhau. Tại sao lại 60, mà không 70 hay 50? Là bởi tôi có tham vọng in cuốn thơ này vào năm 2000, năm giỗ thứ 60 của Hàn Mặc Tử. Lục tuần là một con số quan trọng trong tuổi thọ, tuổi đời đối với người Việt. Năm đó lại là năm Canh Thìn, và cả một chu kỳ vừa chấm dứt để bắt đầu một kỷ nguyên mới. Do đó, trong thâm tâm tôi muốn tặng tác phẩm này cho Hàn Mặc Tử ở sinh nhật lục tuần ngày ông ra đi, cho nên số 60 là sự lựa chọn có ý nghĩa huyền bí.

 

TK: Tại sao chị lại chọn thể thơ tự do trong khi thơ Hàn Mặc Tử có vần điệu?

 

HP: Đơn giản thôi: Bởi vì việc chuyển ngữ sang thơ Pháp có vần sẽ đưa đến rất nhiều phản nghĩa. Hơn nữa, cũng không thể chuyển từ một ngôn ngữ đơn tiết như tiếng Việt, với những câu thơ bẩy chữ, tám chữ, sang một câu thơ tiếng Pháp đều đặn, mà chữ Pháp như ta đã biết, thường đa tiết, làm như thế sẽ không tránh khỏi việc phá vỡ ý và lời thơ. Tôi nghĩ rằng trong việc dịch, chúng ta phải rất khiêm nhượng, cố gắng nói lên bằng giọng người dịch, cái tiếng của nhà thơ, chứ không được áp đặt một cách giả tạo những vần điệu không ăn nhập gì với ngôn ngữ thơ của tác giả.

 

Trong câu chuyện ngoài lề, Hélène Péras đã nói nhiều về trường thơ loạn, về Chế Lan Viên, Yến Lan, Bích Khê, như thể một dịch giả, ngoài việc tìm hiểu nhà thơ mà mình dịch, còn phải đi xa, đi càng xa càng hay, về những bối cảnh xung quanh nhà thơ, về thời đại của tác giả và về những người cùng thời với tác giả. Những nhận thức đó của Hélène Péras dẫn chúng tôi đến câu hỏi:

 

TK: Chị nghĩ gì về “Trường thơ loạn”, về những người bạn của Hàn Mặc Tử như Chế Lan Viên, Yến Lan, Bích Khê… mà chị rất biết về họ?

 

HP: Thời kỳ ấy, như mọi người đã biết, là một thời kỳ lịch sử đầy xao động, khó khăn và những biến cố lịch sử kinh hoàng của thế giới đang ngấm ngầm chuẩn bị. Tôi rất xúc động nhìn thấy, giữa những xáo động ấy, có một nhóm người Việt trẻ tuổi, sau này trở thành nhóm nhà thơ trẻ Bình Định, xoay quanh Hàn Mặc Tử; họ trao đổi với nhau, đưa ra những tranh luận sôi nổi về thi ca, những người viết trẻ này rất quý mến nhau, họ say mê thể loại Thơ mới vừa ra đời ít lâu trước đó, nhưng phải nói là nhờ họ mà phong trào Thơ mới được mở rộng: những cấm kỵ, những niêm luật khắt khe của thơ đường luật đã tan vỡ để nhường chỗ cho một cách diễn đạt mới, một trữ tình cuồng nhiệt và thành thực, và tôi nghĩ rằng những điều đó rất đáng được chú ý. Trong số những người ấy phải kể Chế Lan Viên, Yến Lan, sau nữa là Bích Khê và Quách Tấn, bạn thân của Hàn Mặc Tử. Tuy Quách Tấn là một nhà thơ cổ điển, nhưng ông vẫn giữ mối liên lạc chặt chẽ với nhóm này. Hiện tượng những nhà thơ trẻ này cần được nghiên cứu một cách cẩn trọng, nhất là người ta tìm thấy trong ngôn ngữ thơ của Hàn Mặc Tử, những điểm mà người ta lại thấy trong cách diễn tả của những người khác. Ví dụ có những điểm tương đồng trong thơ Hàn Mặc Tử và Bích Khê, Hàn Mặc Tử và Yến Lan. Tôi nghĩ rằng đây có một hiện tượng mà người ta gọi là liên văn bản – l’intertextualité rất thú vị.

 

TK: Trong thơ Hàn Mặc Tử, chị có thấy một liên hệ tương quan nào đó giữa Hàn Mặc Tử và những thi sĩ lớn của Pháp, như Baudelaire chẳng hạn?

 

HP: Tôi nghĩ rằng phải cân nhắc kỹ khi trả lời câu hỏi này. Dĩ nhiên là có dấu ấn của việc đọc những nhà thơ lớn của Pháp, những nhà thơ lãng mạn, hậu lãng mạn và tượng trưng. Nhưng nếu có những dấu vết ấy thì nó đã được tiêu hóa nhuần nhuyễn, được hội nhập sâu xa, trong tinh thần và cảm xúc thi ca Việt Nam. Chắc chắn là qua những tiếp xúc với các nhà thơ Pháp, có sự giàu thêm, phóng khoáng hơn, tự do hơn, về cách diễn tả những trữ tình và cảm xúc, nhưng ở Hàn Mặc Tử không bao giờ có sự bắt chước hay sao chép dưới bất cứ hình thức nào, mà ảnh hưởng này đã tan ra, biến vào thơ ông, để trở thành một nghệ thuật hoàn toàn Việt Nam.

 

Lúc nãy chị có nhắc đến Baudelaire, tất nhiên là có dấu vết Baudelaire, ngoài ra, chính Hàn Mặc Tử cũng đã giải thích điều đó trong một bài viết về quan niệm thơ của ông. Trong bài này, Hàn vừa công nhận món nợ với Baudelaire, lại vừa giữ khoảng cách với Baudelaire, mà theo ông tự nhận xét, thì những đam mê của mình nghiêng về tinh thần, còn ở Baudelaire, những đam mê nghiêng về thể xác. Dĩ nhiên là ở Hàn Mặc Tử cũng có những đam mê thể xác, rất mãnh liệt nữa, nhưng chúng luôn luôn hướng thượng, về phía đạo. Chúng ta đừng quên Hàn Mặc Tử là nhà thơ công giáo, và điều này là cốt yếu trong tác phẩm của ông, nhất là trong phần cuối, ông đã nuôi dưỡng nguồn thơ của mình, không những qua thi ca mà còn qua cả thánh kinh, phúc âm, qua các lễ thức thánh giáo nữa.

 

Câu chuyện đến đây đã dài, Hélène Péras muốn từ giã thính giả bằng hai bản dịch thơ mà chị đã lựa:

 

Gái quê

Xuân trẻ, xuân non, xuân lịch sự

Tôi đều nhận thấy trên môi em

Làn môi mong mỏng tươi như máu

Đã khiến môi tôi mấp máy thèm

 

Từ lúc tóc em bỏ trái đào

Tới chừng cặp má đỏ au au

Tôi đều nhận thấy trong con mắt

Một vẻ ngây thơ và ước ao

 

Lớn lên em đã biết làm duyên

Mỗi lúc gặp tôi che nón nghiêng

Nghe nói ba em chưa chịu nhận

Cau trầu của khách láng giềng bên.

Hàn Mặc Tử

 

La jeune fille du village

Le printemps jeune, tendre, sage,

Je le reconnais sur tes lèvres,

Tes lèvres fines, éclatantes de vie

Qui font frémir les miennes de désir

 

Depuis le temps où tu laissais les mèches de tes cheveux

Frôler tes joues vermeilles

J’ai toujours vu dans tes yeux

L’innocence et l’espoir

 

En grandissant tu as appris le charme

Chaque fois que tu me rencontres tu te caches

en inclinant ton chapeau

On dit que ton père ne consent pas encore

À recevoir de l’étranger voisin l’arec et le bétel.

Hélène Péras dịch

 

 

 

Đây thôn Vĩ Dạ

Sao anh không về chơi thôn Vĩ

Nhìn nắng hàng cau nắng mới lên

Vườn ai mướt qua xanh như ngọc

Lá trúc che ngang mặt chữ điền

 

Gió theo lối gió, mây đường mây

Dòng nước buồn thiu, hoa bắp lay

Thuyền ai đậu bến sông trăng đó

Có chở trăng về kịp tối nay?

 

Mơ khách đường xa, khách đường xa…

Áo em trắng quá nhìn không ra

Ở đây sương khói mờ nhân ảnh

Ai biết tình ai có đậm đà?

Hàn Mặc Tử

 

Voici le Hameau des Roseaux

Pourquoi ne pas retourner au Hameau de Roseaux

Voir le soleil levant sur les rangs d’aréquiers

Un jardin tout luisant comme de jade vert

Le visage parfait au travers des bambous.

 

Le vent suit le chemin du vent, les nuages la route des nuages,

Tristesse de l’eau qui coule, frémissement des mais en fleurs,

À qui est cette barque à l’amarre là-bas aux rives de la lune

Et pourra-t-elle à temps la transporter ce soir?

 

Rêve le voyageur sur la route lointaine, lointaine…

Ta robe est par trop blanche, je ne la discerne pas

Ici les êtres sont voilés de brume et de fumée

Qui connait la profondeur d’un tel amour?

Hélène Péras dịch

 

Thụy Khuê

thực hiện, phát thanh trên đài RFI ngày 27/04/2002

 

1 tập thơ song ngữ Pháp Việt do Hélène Péras và Vũ Thị Bích dịch, nhà xuất bản Arfuyen, Paris 2001.

 

2 Chú thích của Hélène Péras: Người xuất bản Gérard Pfister cũng là nhà thơ, đã viết lời bạt ở bìa sau.

 

3 Chú thích của Hélène Péras:

Trần Thanh Địch, trong Lời nói đầu tập Đau Thương (1993), khẳng định trên cơ sở bản gốc: “Đây Thôn Vĩ Dạ: Bài này Hàn Mặc Tử đặt vào tập Thượng Thanh Khí”.

 

nguồn: nhanvan.com

Hàn Mặc Tử và Chúa

Hàn Mặc Tử  và Chúa

Bs. Lê văn Lân

Hàn Mặc Tử: một kiếp khổ đau!

Cách đây 65 năm, vào buổi trưa ngày 11 tháng 11 năm 1940, một người nằm xuống sau nhiều năm tháng đau đớn, nứt nở thi.t da. Ông ta là bệnh nhân của trại cùi Qui Hòa mang số hiệu 1314. Trên cây Thánh giá trồng trên mộ phần của ông, ghi hàng chữ Phêrô Phanxico Nguyễn Trọng Trí. Đây chính là nhà thơ Hàn Mặc Tử.

Ông vừa giống lại vừa khác thế nhân chúng ta. Giống ở chỗ cùng mang kiếp nhân sinh, với thịt xương và một cấu trúc thần kinh cao đẳng, biết ăn, biết ngủ, biết cảm xúc, biết tư duy. Nhưng khác ở chỗ: Thế nhân chết đi thì rơi vào quên lãng, tĩnh mịch còn Hàn Mặc Tử chết rồi nhưng tiếng thơ còn mãi! Chúng ta chết rồi, linh hồn có thể còn khắc khoải chưa biết về đâu vì  không trang bị .một niềm tin tưởng siêu linh, còn Hàn Mặc Tử thuở sanh tiền đã đối đầu và tôi luyện trong niềm đau khổ cực điểm nên linh hồn đã được thăng hoa trong một niềm tin vào Chúa!

Hàn Mặc Tử: Một linh hồn vượt hẳn cõi nhân gian!

Nhìn lại phong trào thơ mới ở Việt Nam khoảng 1932-1945, sự xuất hiện của tiếng thơ dồi dào và sâu đậm nhất trong khuynh hướng nói về cõi Chết, về siêu hình, nhất là về Chúa thì độc nhất có Hàn Mặc Tử .

Tập Thơ Điên của HMT khiến người đọc bỗng hoàn toàn rời khỏi cái thế giới thực tại của thế nhân đến nỗi Hoài Thanh trong cuốn Thi nhân Việt Nam phải thảng thốt viết rằng:

Một tác phẩm như thế, ta không thể nói hay hay dở, nó đã ra ngoài vòng nhân gian, nhân gian không có quyền phê phán. Ta chỉ biết trong văn thơ cổ kim không có gì kinh dị hơn…Ta chỉ biết ta đương đứng trước một người sượng sần vì bệnh hoạn, điên cuồng vì đã quá đau khổ trong tình yêu…

Ông Hoài Thanh thú nhận rằng ông phải bỏ ra ròng rã “ngót một tháng trời “để đọc toàn bộ thơ của HMT và ông “đã mệt lả” (sic) (tr.205) . Kể ra thật đúng khi ta tìm gập rất nhiều câu thơ như sau:

Hồn của HMT không những chỉ vơ vưởng trong cõi vô hình mà nhiều lúc đã:

Cười như điên sặc sụa cả mùi trăng….

Gào thét một hồi cho rởn óc

Cả thiên đàng, trần gian và địa ngục

(Hồn là ai?)

Hồn có lúc lạc vào nơi

thiên sầu, địa thảm giới Lâm bô,

có lúc lại bay ra Ngoài vũ trụ để:

Tắm gội trong nguồn ánh sáng,

Ca những điệu ngọc vàng cao sang sảng.

Hoặc có lúc tinh khiết, nhẹ nhàng ngoài mức ngôn ngữ phàm tục :

Thượng thanh khí tiết ra nguồn tinh khí

Xa xôi đồi trăng mọc nước Huyền vi

Đây miên trường, đây vĩnh cửu, tề phi

(Đừng cho lòng bay xa)

Hàn Mặc Tử: một viên kim cương trong giòng thơ Kytô giáo ở Việt Nam!

Hàn Mặc Tử đã sống đạo, chết đạo và sáng tác thơ Đạo một cách tha thiết khiến nhiều người cho Tử là một “nhà thơ tôn giáo”, nhưng thực sự Tử đã vượt hẳn lên cái mục đích “truyền bá đức tin” của những thừa sai và giáo đồ trong giai đoạn tiên khởi ở Việt Nam. Thơ của HMT là một sự cảm nghiệm độc đáo! Đọc thơ Tử, người ta bèn thấy nguồn đạo trong thơ Tử không hạn hẹp với ý nghĩa một tôn giáo mà là một cái gì thuộc về hoàn vũ (universel).

Hoài Thanh trong cuốn Thi Nhân Việt Nam (1941) nhận định rất đúng rằng:

“Hàn Mặc Tử và Chế Lan Viên, cả hai đều chịu rất nặng ảnh hưởng Baudelaire và qua Baudelaire, ảnh hưởng nhà văn Mỹ Edgar Poe, tác giả tập Chuyện lạ. Có khác chăng là Chế Lan Viên đã đi từ Baudelaire, Edgar Poe đến thơ Đường, mà Hàn Mặc Tử đã đi ngược lại từ thơ Đường đến Baudelaire, Edgar Poe và đi thêm một đoạn nữa cho gặp Thánh Kinh của đạo Thiên Chúa.

Chính nhờ Thánh kinh và tinh thần Tin Mến Cậy sốt sắng vào Thiên Chúa. thơ Hàn Mặc tử đưa người đọc gần Chúa vô cùng!

HMT vướng vào bệnh cùi lúc tuổi còn trẻ đang lúc yêu đời. Bệnh này như một đi.nh mệnh đã đọa đầy Hàn Mặc Tử trong một vũng đau thương tuyệt vọng:

…Tôi vẫn còn đây hay ở đâu?

Ai đem tôi bỏ dưới trời sâu?

(Những giọt lệ)

…Thân tàn ma dại đi rồi

Rầu rầu nước mắt bồi hồi ruột gan

(Muôn năm sầu thảm)

Hàn Mặc Tử trong bài “Hồn là ai” đã tự mô tả cái hành hạ thể xác bằng giọng thống thiết sau:

…Áo tôi là một thứ ngợp hơn vàng

Hồn đã cấu, đã cào, nhai ngấu nghiến

Thịt da tôi sượng sần và tê điếng

Tôi đau vì rùng rợn đến vô biên…

Dựa vào sự phát triển của bệnh cùi trong đời ông, ta thấy ba giai đoạn tương ứng trong thi nghiệp của ông:

1) Giai đoạn tiền bệnh: trước năm 1936 (nghĩa là trước lúc vô bệnh viện Qui Hòa (1937) ,đánh dấu bằng những tập ” Đường luật” và “Gái Quê”với một giọng trong sáng, nồng thắm, yêu đời cuồng nhiệt, một khí lực phương cương dồi dào tính dục trong lứa tuổi đôi mươi.

2) Giai đoạn bệnh phát lộ đánh dấu bằng tập thơ “Đau Thương”, “Thơ Điên” nên tiếng thơ thống thiết, cực kỳ bi thảm như một con chim biết rằng mình sắp chết. Thiên kiến của người đời xa lánh mình cọng vào đó sự đau khổ vì tình duyên trắc trở đã làm HMT càng đau khổ:

Lòng ta sầu thảm hơn mùa lạnh

Hơn hết u buồn của nước mây

Của những tình duyên thường lở dở

Của lời rên xiết gió heo may

3) Giai đoạn cuối cùng của Hàn Mặc Tử được định mốc bằng tập thơ “Xuân Như Ý”. Khi ý thức rằng mình không còn hy vọng sống lâu HMT càng tìm nguồn giải thoát cho linh hồn khắc khoải qua tôn giáo và những khải thị siêu phàm. Giọng thơ không còn rên rĩ, mà thanh thoát, thăng hoa.

Vào bệnh viện Qui Hòa, thi nhân đã tập được đức tính an vui trong nguồn đau khổ. Trong một lá thơ gửi cho ông bạn thân là Trần Thanh Địch, Tử kể lại rằng mỗi ngày đều đều ông liên lỉ ít nhất năm sáu lần vừa đọc kinh vừa ngâm thơ.

Nhưng ba tháng sau, cơ thể quá suy kiệt và thêm bị chứng kiết lỵ nên vài ngày thì tạ thế (ngày 11 tháng 11 năm 1940 hưởng dương 29 tuổi).

Trên giường bịnh, biết mình sắp chết, tâm hồn thi nhân vẫn vô cùng sáng suốt và giữ một thái độ bình thản như sốt sắng viết một bản kinh nguyện bằng tiếng Pháp là La Pureté de l’âme. (Sự thanh khiết của linh hồn) để dọn mình về với Chúa.

Lý tưởng Thiên Chúa giáo trong thơ Hàn Mặc Tử

Trên chủ trương sáng tác thi văn của ông, Hàn Mặc tử đã khẳng dịnh lý tưởng Thiên Chuá giáo của mình:

“ Đức Chúa trời tạo ra trăng, hoa, nhạc, hương là để cho người đời hưởng thụ, nhưng người đời u mê phần nhiều không biết tận hưởng một cách say sưa, và nhân đấy chiêm nghiệm lẽ mầu nhiệm, phép tắc của Đấng Chí tôn. Vì thế, trừ hai loài trọng vọng là “ thiên thần” và “ loài người”, Đức Chúa Trời phải cho ra đời một loài thứ ba nữa: “ loài thi sĩ”! Loài này là những bông hoa rất quí và rất hiếm, sinh ra đời với một sứ mạng rất thiêng liêng: Phải biết tận hưởng những công trình châu báu của Đức Chúa Trời đã gây nên, ca ngợi quyền phép của Người, và trút vào linh hồn người ta những nguồn khoái lạc đê mê, nhưng rất thơm tho tinh sạch. (Thư gửi cho Trọng Miên: Quan niệm về Thơ).

Đọc thơ của HMT, người ta đã tìm thấy Thánh Kinh, cho nên lời thư viết trên này chỉ là phu diễn cái ý cốt tủy cho rằng thế gian này tạo ra do lòng yêu và vinh quang của Thiên Chúa.”Chính cái chìa khóa tình yêu đã mở tay Thiên Chúa tạo dựng các loài”( thánh Thomas d’Aquin). Sự sáng tạo là điều Chúa muốn như là một sự ân tứ dành cho con người, như là một tài sản chuyển đạt và giao phó cho con người thụ hưởng (Car la création est voulue par Dieu come un don adressé à l’homme, comme un héritage qui lui est destiné et confié.–Catéchisme de l’Église Catholique 1997).

Nhưng theo Tử, thì con người phàm tục thế gian ít khi hiểu đưôc và mang ơn “loài thi sĩ” nếu không nói là vô tình bạc đãi khinh khi.

Qua biểu tượng Máu và Hồn, Tử đã vô tình dự phóng bản ngã của mình trênhình ảnh của Chúa Giêsu trong gương cứu chuộc trong buổi Tiệc Ly với lời nói cuối cùng với các môn đệ trên bánh thánh và rượu nho:

“Này đây là Mình ta, hãy cất lấy mà ăn. Này đây là chén Máu ta, hãy cất lấy mà uống”.

Hàn Mặc tử, khi viết tựa cho tập Tinh Huyết của Bích Khê đã viết rằng:

“Sáng tạo là điều kiện cần nhất, tối yếu của thơ, mà muốn tìm nguồn cảm xúc mới lạ, không chi bằng đọc sách về tôn giáo cho nhiều. Như thế, thơ văn mới trở nên trọng vọng, cao quí, có một ý nghĩa thần bí.

Đọc nhiều thơ của HMT, người ta thấy tràn ngập nào là ánh sáng, nào là hương, nào là hoa, nào là châu báu, nào là tiếng nhạc, nào là lời kinh… ít ai ngờ đó là khung cảnh trang hoàng để phụng vụ trong những giáo đường Công giáo trong thực tế mà trí tưởng tượng phong phú của thi nhân đã chuyển hóa ra thành những lời thơ trọng vọng… Ngay cả những lời thơ trùng trùng điệp điệp về sự vãi máu, nôn khạc huyết ra từ cổ họng của HMT, biết đâu chẳng đã được gợi hứng từ hình ảnh con chim bồ nông mổ ngực để máu vọt ra cho đàn chim con xúm lại mà uống; hình này thường được chạm trên cánh cửa của Nhà Tạm đựng Mình Thánh Chúa trên bàn thờ của giáo đường (Chim bồ nông – pélican là loài thủy điểu, khi bắt được mồi thường nuốt tạm và chứa trong cái bìu da ở cổ họng để đem về cho bày con mổ vào họng mình ra mà ăn. Do đó, có truyền thuyết là chim bồ nông tự mổ ngực mình ra để lấy máu nuôi con.

Thánh Thomas d’Aquin trong Vần thơ Thánh vịnh (Rhythmus Sancti) đã dùng hình ảnh chim này mà ca vịnh Thánh thể như hình Chúa Giêsu đổ huyết ra vì nhân loại. Còn Alfred de Musset, nhà thơ Pháp (1810-1857) đã thi vị hóa hình ảnh bồ nông như thân kiếp của thi nhân làm thơ bằng máu lệ của mình trong một bài thơ danh tiếng.

HMT lấy hứng về thi liệu từ Kinh thánh và những bài kinh nguyện của tín đồ Công giáo để xây dựng tứ thơ của mình.

Bài Thánh Nữ Đồng trinh trứ danh của HMT đã diễn đạt lại ý tứ của kinh Kinh Mừng quen thuộc của người Công giáo với một giọng vô cùng thành khẩn:

…Lạy Bà là Đấng tinh tuyền thánh vẹn,

Giầu nhân đức , giầu muôn hộc từ bi,

Cho tôi dâng lời cảm tạ phò nguy

Cơn lậm lụy vừa trải qua dưới thế

Tôi cảm động rưng hai hàng lệ

…Tấu lạy Bà, lạy Bà đầy ơn phước,

Cho tình tôi nguyên vẹn tựa trăng rằm

Theo Linh mục Phan Phát Hườn, bài AVE MARIA của Hàn Mặc Tử mà trong đó có các đoạn thơ trên đây đã gây một xúc cảm sâu xa trong tâm hồn người đọc, công giáo hay không công giáo. Đọc bài thơ này người ta liên tưởng tới bài LA VIERGE À MIDI của Paul Claudel, hai bài thơ đều nói về Trinh nữ Maria nhưng hai giọng văn khác hẳn. Đọc lên bài thơ của Claudel ta chia sẻ những tâm tình của một người vô thần sau khi đã quay về với Chúa, tỏ tình rất mực đơn sơ với Trinh Nữ. Đọc lên bài Ave Maria của Hàn Mặc Tử, ta cảm được, ta sờ được, ta thấy được sự cao sang của Trinh Nữ.

Trong thi ca của HMT, người ta còn bắt gặp một ý thơ khác lấy từ Kinh Tin Kính như :

Ngày tận thế là ngày tán loạn

Xác của Hồn, Hồn của Xác y nguyên.

HMT lại mang cái thị kiến của thánh Yoan trong sách Khải huyền về thành thánh Yêrusalem: “ánh quang của thành tỏa ra tựa hồ minh châu cực quí, như ngọc thạch bóng lộn ánh lưu ly…vào bài Xuân Đầu tiên của mình qua câu:

… Trái cây bằng ngọc vỏ bằng gấm

Còn mặt trời kia tợ khối vàng

… Trên chín tầng diêu động cả trân châu

Dường sống lại muôn ngàn hoa phẩm tiết.

…

Niềm khổ đau cứu độ

Khảo sát về thơ Hàn Mặc Tử, chúng ta nhìn thấy một thiên tài. Bệnh hoạn và nghi.ch cảnh chỉ là những tác nhân duyên khởi đã bức bách thiên tài này sáng tác ra nhiều bài thơ kỳ lạ như những hạt cát khiến những con trai dưới biển sanh ra những hạt trân châu.

Với Hàn Mặc Tử, sự đau đớn về thể xác, niềm tủi cực về tinh thần cũng gây ra một phản ứng điên đảo khiến ông cười, nói, gào, thét lung tung để giải thoát tâm tư. Nhưng ông không hề loạn trí, nghĩa là điên thực sự mà nói năng không mạch lạc theo luận lý. Tập “Thơ Điên” là sự chuyển hoá sự đau khổ qua một “hiện tượng thoái hồi” như là một phản ứng chống đỡ tự nhiên để giữ quân bình lành mạnh cho trí óc.

Hàn Mặc Tử , cũng như bao thi nhân vĩ đại có điểm độc đáo phi thường là đau khổ không dìm sâu họ xuống bùn đen mà đưa họ lên cao lên cao gần Thượng Đế

Ở Hàn Mặc Tử, thể xác đau đớn ê chề nhưng linh hồn thì thăng hoa trong sáng nhờ đôi cánh của tôn giáo được chắp vào trí tưởng của thi nhân.

Hàn Mặc Tử trong tận cùng đau khổ của thế gian đã tự ví mình: khi xưa ta là chim phượng hoàng, Vỗ cánh bay chín tầng trời cao ngất”; ý tứ mình “cao cường hơn ngọn núi”; hồn mình “chơi vơi trong khí hậu chín tầng mây”

Trong bài viết Mùa Chay: Suy nghĩ về Đau Khổ trong Nguyệt san Đức Mẹ Hằng Cứu giúp số 223, tháng 03- 2005, tác giả Thế Hùng đã viết:

“Chuá Giêsu là gương mẫu sống động cho những người đau khổ” Chúa Giê su không cho chúng ta một câu trả lời trừu tượng về vấn nạn đau khổ.Hơn thế, Ngài cho chúng ta một câu trả lời sống động và một gương mẩu để đi theo. Đức Thánh Cha Gioan Phaolô II đã chỉ ra điều này một cách rõ nét trong Tông Thư năm 1984 “Salvicifi Doloris” (Ý nghĩa về Đau khổ con người theo Kitô giáo). Ngài viết rằng khi có ai hỏi Chuá Kitô tại sao con người phải đau khổ, người đó “không thể không chú ý đến Người đặt câu hỏi vì chính Người đó cũng đau khổ và ao ước trả lời câu hỏi đó từ chính thập giá, từ con tim đau khổ của Người… Chuá Kitô không giải thích một cách trừu tượng lý do vì sao có đau khổ, nhưng trước hết, Ngài nói:

Hãy theo Ta! Qua cuộc đau khổ của con, con hãy dự phần vào công cuộc cứu rôĩ thế giới. Dần dần khi cá nhân đo vác lấy thập giá mình, trong tinh thần liên kế với thập giá Chuá Kitô, ý nghĩa cứu độ của đau khổ sẽ hiện ra trước mắt người đó”

Hàn Mặc Tử lại dự phóng sự đau khổ của mình như hình ảnh cứu chuộc của Chúa GiêSu: qua một hiện tượng “tự đồng hoá”( identification ) với Chuá Kitô về tuẫn đạo (Martydom). HMT đã tự gán cho mình vai trò làm Thi Nhân đã đổ hết bao nhiêu nguồn máu lệ, đã từng uống mật đắng cay trong khi miệng vẫn tươi cười sốt sắng. (Thay lời Tựa – Xuân Như Ý). Trong bài Nguồn Thơm, HMT đã nhiệt tình tôn vinh những người đã vác Thập gía theo chân Chuá Giêsu:

_ Đây, thi sĩ của đạo quân Thánh giá

Nửa đêm nay vùng dậy để tung hô

Để sớt cho cả xuân, xuân thiên hạ

Hương mến yêu là lộc của lời thơ

Hàn Mặc Tử lại còn tha hóa tình cảm của mình khi mơ đến một “mùa Xuân Thái Hòa” của” năm muôn năm, trời muôn trời” cho cả và thiên hạ.

Linh hồn của con người đau khổ thường hay lên gần Chúa. Đó là tâm trạng của Hàn Mặc Tử trong những ngày cuối cùng bệnh hoạn, khổ đau trong trại cùi Qui Hòa. Hàn Mặc Tử đã thị kiến đến một mùa Xuân Như Ý:

“Vinh quang Chúa cả trên trời, bình an dưới thế cho người thiện tâm”.Câu thánh vịnh về mùa Giáng Sinh này đã khơi nguồn cho Hàn Mặc Tử khi viết như sau:

Tứ thời xuân! Tứ thời xuân non nước!

Phút thiêng liêng nhuần gội áng thiều quang

Thiên hạ bình, và trời tuôn ơn phước

Như triều thiên vờn lượn khắp không gian

(Nguồn thơm)

Ý thơ của Hàn Mặc Tử trong tập Xuân Như Ý khai triển một cách kỳ diệu vô cùng. Tử cho rằng mình giống Khổng Tử khi chép kinh Xuân Thu với một cảm hứng dào dạt:

Ngời phép lạ của đức tin kiều diễm

Câu tàn tạ không khen long cả phiếm

Bút Xuân Thu mùa nhạc đến vừa khi

(Đêm xuân cầu nguyện)

Sự thăng hoa của Hàn Mặc Tử được kết tinh bằng hình ảnh của một thiên đường đầy vẻ đẹp tuyệt vời mà con người không còn than khóc, đau khổ nữa, một thiên đường đầy: “Nhạc thơm, hương ấm, mộng ngọc, hoa trinh bạch, đàn ly tao, tranh tuyệt phẩm”.

Câu nói của thi sĩ Pháp Alfred de Vigny: “Những khúc hát tuyệt vọng nhất là những khúc hát đẹp vô vàn.”phải chăng rất đúng khi áp dụng vào trường hợp của nhà thơ vô cùng khổ đau Hàn Mặc Tử.

Như là một lời kết, chúng ta hãy nghe Linh mục Phan Phát Hườn nhận định rằng :

Hàn Mặc Tử bằng thi thơ của mình muốn nói lên điều mà ông TIN, điều mà các nhà thần học đã tốn biết bao nhiêu mực, bao nhi u giấy từ hế kỷ này qua thế kỷ khác nói về sự kiện lịch sử Chúa xuống thế làm người, về mầu nhiệm Ngôi Lời nhập thể trong cung lòng của Trinh Nữ Maria. ( Đức Tin trong thơ Hàn Mặc Tử – Tựa cho cuốn Hàn Mặc Tử: Đau Khổ và Thơ của Lê văn Lân)

Với tâm tình của người yêu thơ Hàn Mặc Tử, bài viết này xin được xem như một nén tâm hương cho một thi hào đã dùng những đau khổ và máu lệ của mình mà nhào nặn ra biết bao lời thơ đẹp và sâu săc tuyệt vời như những hạt kim cương.

LÊ VĂN LÂN

Mùa Phục Sinh  2005

Hàn Mặc Tử

Hàn Mặc Tử (1912-1940)

Trần Tuấn Kiệt

Nhà thơ với cuộc đời đau thương có một không hai này, tên thật là Nguyễn Trọng Trí, sinh ngày 22-9-1912 ở Lệ Mỹ (Đông Hới). Ông làm thơ từ thuở nhỏ. Lấy hiệu là Phong Trần và Lệ Thanh, trong những năm 16 tuổi. Vốn ở Qui Nhơn từ nhỏ. Cha mất sớm, nhà nghèo. Học đến năm thứ ba ở trường Qui Nhơn, kế đó mắc bịnh hủi, đưa vào nhà thương Qui Hòa rồi mất ở đó, ngày 11-10-1940.

Ông từng chủ trương tờ phụ trương văn chương báo Saigon mới đổi hiệu là Hàn Mặc Tử.

Đã đăng thơ: Phụ Nữ Tân Văn, Saigon, Trong Khuê Phòng, Đông Dương Tuần Báo, Người Mới.

Đã xuất bản: Gái quê (1936), Thơ Hàn Mặc Tử (1959) gồm có: Thơ Đường Luật, Gái Quê, Đau Thương, Xuân Như Ý.

Tất cả các thi phẩm nầy được nhà xuất bản Tân Việt in lại (1959). Càng ngày thơ Hàn Mặc Tử càng được phổ biến rộng và có nhiều người say sưa. Phần nhiều những người mê thơ Hàn Mặc Tử, lớp thanh niên ngày nọ… thường lê thê lếch thếch ở cá hè quán dơ bẩn và điên loạn… họ điên loạn để tỏ ra giống Hàn Mặc Tử, họ bày đặt đau thương khốn đốn, thơ thì dùng chữ cho sáo, cho kêu, tiếc rằng không tìm được một HànMặc Tử thứ hai để cho mình chiêm ngưởng.

Ngày nào còn bình tỉnh tôi chỉ thích đọc thơ Xuân Diệu, thơ Lưu Trọng Lư với những linh hồn sầu mộng muôn đời đó, cũng như những người làm thơ hôm nay… cái nhẹ và cao sâu của Trần Dạ Từ, Đỗ Qui Toàn và những bài thơ lục bát của Trần Đức Uyển vậy… nhưng, lúc tỉnh cũng như lúc điên… giòng thơ Việt với đôi hình sắc lạ thường rẻ thành hai nẻo… cùng hướng vọng về ân sủng của Thượng Đế, chỉ có Huy Cận ngày xưa, không cầu mong Thượng Đế điều gì, vì thi nhân mang cả cái linh hồn trần gian nầy mà trả lại cho Người. Nhưng đến lúc sầu hận điên đảo khôn nguôi, tôi trở về với Ôn Như Hầu… với Chế Lan Viên… và nhất là với Hàn Mặc Tử. Thơ không vốn để vỗ về lấy đau thương của ai cũng không phải để nói lên cái đau khổ, mà để tạo lập một vũ trụ một cõi mới lạ… điều nói của Loài Người cả đấy thôi… thì dù ở đâu, ở hoang đảo nào, ở một thế giới nào đi nữa, chúng ta vẫn cắm lều cô độc, chúng ta vẫn đến cái đỉnh chót vót của tâm hồn tẻ quạnh của ta và chừng đó hoặc là trở về cô độc bằng thái độ sống, nếu không, thì chúng ta sẽ điên, điên như Chế Lan Viên, kinh dị như Hàn Mặc Tử và sau này trên một nguồn đó còn có nhà thơ Viên Linh với Hóa Thân xuất bản vừa rồi.

Nhà thơ đi lọc ánh sáng để gieo vần, đơn độc đẩm mình trong suối ngọc cỏ thơm, trong niềm đau thương xô đẩy đến một thế giới trăng sao lộng lẫy. Thi ca là nguồn suối ở trên cõi siêu hình đảo lộn cả mọi suy tưởng đậm đà của tình nhân gian sầu mộng. Ở đó chỉ có linh hồn thi nhân và trân châu ngọc bích của Thượng Đế. Ở đó sự kỳ lạ được nhà thơ điểm vào óng ánh tinh khí, thực thể trơ thành huyền hoặc lý lẽ cõi đời không có đất nẩy mầm, cõi điên loạn dị thường được soi trong cặp kính của một vì Sáng Thế, được gảy bởi cung đàn thiên tiên bất tuyệt.

Từ lắng nghe niềm đau thương vọt máu của sự tình đến khao khát ân ái của nhục thể, từ lang thang cô đơn ở trong xã hội gọi là chỗ hợp quần này tương trợ và thông cảm này… rốt lại chỉ còn vò võ từng đêm, hoảng hốt và đau buốt xương da từng đêm trong bệnh viện Qui Hòa. Từ cõi bị đày này, thi nhân xưa vẫn là người tiên ở thượng giới cho đến cõi tạm bợ đày đọa này, rồi lại bị đày thêm lần nữa ở một vũng cô liêu cũ vạn đời…

Với niềm đau thương của Hàn Mặc Tử người đời còn có thể nhắc tới. Nhưng tiếc rằng nhắc tới để cảm thấy một cuộc đời rất là say đắm… rất là khốn cùng… rất là thơ mộng!!! Chứ nào ai đã cảm nhận một người đó vượt khỏi cái âm u, hoang lạnh của hư vô bủa vây trùng điệp… đen tối mịt mù như thứ mê hồn trận. Những giờ phút tê điên hồn phách, sượng sùng xương da, ở giữa một căn nhà với ngọn nến, trông ra bốn bể đêm tối bủa vây, bãi tha ma hoang lạnh. Linh hồn kinh dị đến tột cùng, choán ngộp cơ hồ nghẹt thở… đau đớn bốc dậy cùng từng sớ thịt, từng đường gân, từng mạch máu, từng phút từng lo âu và khẩn nguyện.

Như một kẻ lâm vào ác mộng, vũ trụ quay cuồng, vang vọng đến tiếng gọi rợn người của tử thần rình rập. Cựa quậy khôn thoát, cuối cùng thể xác đành ngã gục… đành tê điên, đành tan rả, nhưng linh hồn Người đã đến một nơi cư ngụ bình yên… Trong đời ta, ít nhất là ta đã va chạm một lần với cái chết khủng khiếp, ta mê cuồng và thét gọi; ta điên đảo và bấu víu vào đời sống này một cách vừa bi thảm vừa run sợ. Ít nhất là như thế… ta mới cảm thông với một người trải nhiều ác mộng, luôn luôn thấy bàn tay lông lá của tử thần vương đến chụp xuống đầu cổ, vò bóp xương da. Cuộc chiến đấu bất lực của con người với định mệnh ác nghiệp, cuộc chiến đấu giữa thể xác tanh hôi ghì kéo linh hồn chìm ngập trong đó, và ý chí thi bay vượt lên, điểm linh hồn với cõi trú ngụ mông lung mù mịt của thế giới trăng sao huyền hoặc của tho Người.

Thơ Hàn Mặc Tử không nên đọc trong lúc bình tỉnh vì nó sẽ dẫn ta vào chơi vơi hoang đảo trong đêm biển mù tăm. Nhưng lúc quá đau thương, ta vào cõi thơ của người để mà lảo đảo, hít làn tinh khí trăng sao, của hoa trái thanh tân, nhìn thấy ngất trời tinh đẩu, với nỗi đau đớn lạ thường, cảm giác lạnh tê. Ở đó, ta chịu nhận hồn ta vào cõi vô cùng nọ, ta cùng lùa ánh sáng như lùa một thứ tình mộng, như lù những làn sóng trong ngần của bầu trời tinh mơ, của biển vàng rực rỡ. Ta sẽ vơi bớt nỗi đau đớn mà cảm thấy một hồng ân, bánh mật của Thượng Đế. Và kẻ nào từ chối thứ bánh mật đó, từ chối mọi ân sủng thiêng liêng đó… cũng đứng lên than vãn cõi đời ô trọc làm chi nữa, đừng tìm làm chi nữa hạnh phúc ở trong cõi trần này. Nếu có gan liều phó mặc với triều sóng thời gian đẩy ra khơi mãi thì đừng đọc thơ Hàn Mặc Tử nữa, sẽ tự dựng lấy một thế giới riêng, ở đó mặc tình vùng vẫy.

Nói về thơ Hàn Mặc Tử, ngẫm nghĩ lại, mình không nói được gì cả… bao nhiêu lời từ trước đến giờ như là cây mục, như là cỏ khô… bởi vì thơ người quá ư tràn trề ánh sáng, nhưng lúc tắm trong vùng ánh sáng nọ, thoát nó lại biến mất… lúc ta ngỡ thơ chàng là ánh sáng thái dương thì thơ chàng lại là vầng trăng thiên cổ… lúc ta nắm được linh hồn, nắm được bản chất thơ của Người ở cõi đời này… thì thơ chàng đâu có… mà ta cầm nắm đâu, vì:

Người thơ chưa thấy ra đi nhỉ?
Trinh bạch ai chôn tận đáy mồ.

Và chân lý mà ta thấy được ở tận cõi xa mù nào… không thể hiểu nỗi nữa!

Trần Tuấn Kiệt

_______________________________________
* Trích Thi Nhân Việt Nam Hiện Đại – Quyển I của Trần Tuấn Kiệt.

NHỮNG BIỂU TƯỢNG NGHỆ THUẬT TRONG HÀNH TRÌNH THƠ HÀN MẶC TỬ

NHỮNG BIỂU TƯỢNG NGHỆ THUẬT TRONG

HÀNH TRÌNH THƠ HÀN MẶC TỬ

Đặng Thị Ngọc Phượng

“Trước không có ai, sau không có ai, Hàn Mặc Tử như một ngôi sao chổi xoẹt qua bầu trời Việt Nam với cái đuôi chói lòa rực rỡ của mình”

(Chế Lan Viên)

 

Có thể nói rằng từ năm 1932 đến năm 1945 là thời kỳ hoàng kim, thời kỳ ánh sáng của văn học Việt Nam nhất là trong lĩnh vực thi ca. Với một thời gian ngắn ngủi hơn 10 năm, thi ca Việt Nam đã làm trọn một chuyến đi kéo dài 100 năm của thi ca Pháp. Mặc dù ai cũng biết Thơ Mới đã chịu ảnh hưởng của phương Tây, nhất là nước Pháp rất nhiều.

Các nhà thơ Việt Nam ở thời kỳ này mỗi người một phong cách đều tìm cho mình một mảnh vườn sáng tạo để gieo trồng và gặt lấy những hoa trái riêng. Song chỉ một mình Hàn Mặc Tử là hiện tượng duy nhất. Ở giai đoạn cổ điển, ông có Lệ Thanh thi tập, sang giai đoạn lãng mạn ông có Gái quê, đến tượng trưng và siêu thực ông có Đau thương và một phần Xuân như ý. Giai đoạn sau cùng, ông lại quay về cổ điển nhưng là tân cổ điển, ông có Thượng Thanh khí và Cẩm châu duyên. Có thể nói, thơ ông là một hành trình nghệ thuật khép kín giống như một vòng tròn. Cuối vòng tròn lại gặp điểm xuất phát nhưng nghệ thuật của ông ở giai đoạn tân cổ điển này có các chiều kích cao hơn, xa hơn, rộng hơn và sâu hơn.

Cuộc sống của nhà thơ là một cuộc vật lộn suốt đời với bệnh tật hiểm nghèo, dai dẳng, bất phân thắng bại. Sự đau thương về bệnh tật đã đày đọa nhà thơ lên đến tột đỉnh, tưởng như tất cả nỗi khổ của thế gian hội tụ đầy đủ để trút ngập lên một thi mệnh thiên tài mỏng manh yếu ớt và yểu mệnh, nhưng cũng để từ đó chói sáng những vần thơ quằn quại đớn đau mà biểu tượng rực rỡ nhất là: Trăng, Hồn và Máu.

Thơ của Hàn Mặc Tử đã và sẽ còn mãi mãi là nỗi ám ảnh sâu sắc đến người đọc nhiều thế hệ, bởi ma lực của “nghệ thuật ẩn dụ“. Hình ảnh thơ độc đáo, ngôn từ vắt ra từ xương thịt máu huyết và tim óc đưa công chúng chiêm ngưỡng từ một ngôi đền huyền bí đến một tòa thánh chói lòa siêu thực đầy những cảm giác đê mê và rùng rợn. Đây là một thế giới tâm linh ngổn ngang giống như một bản “Đại hợp xướng” có đủ các âm sắc cung bậc tạo nên một phong cách độc đáo. Đường nét kiến trúc trong thơ ông, tòa bảo tháp của thơ ông xây dựng bằng những khát vọng từ thân xác, trái tim, trí tuệ. Từ những cảm xúc vô thức sâu thẳm, tâm linh ông đã đạt đến đỉnh cao nhất của tự do sáng tạo, để lại cho đời những kiệt tác bất hủ. Người chưa hiểu ông, chưa hiểu thơ ông tưởng là ông điên. Nếu là ông điên thật thì đây là Người Điên phải được kính trọng. Một- Người- Điên- Phi- Thường.

Biểu tượng Trăng, Hồn và Máu thường xuyên xuất hiện trong các tập thơ của ông nhất là Trăng mà ta luôn bắt gặp sự phóng chiếu của nó ở nhiều góc độ. Ông đã độc chiếm nàng Trăng của thế giới thi ca làm chất liệu không gì thay thế cho những cảm xúc sáng tạo nghệ thuật ở cấp độ cao nhất.

Tất cả các nhà thơ từ cổ chí kim kể cả các nhà Thơ Mới ai chẳng dùng hình ảnh trăng là đối tượng miêu tả, biến nó thành thi hứng nhưng có lẽ nhiều nhất là Xuân Diệu, Hàn Mặc Tử. Có điều trăng trong thơ Xuân Diệu chỉ là: “Trăng vừa đủ sáng để gây mơ”, để mời gọi: “Hương đêm say dậy với trăng rằm” và trong những đêm “Thu lạnh càng thêm nguyệt tỏ ngời”, gợi cho thi nhân những hoài niệm “Tầm Dương” có “một vừng trăng trong vắt lòng sông”, “lạnh lẽo suốt xương da”. Ngay cả trong bài thơ Trăng mà đương thời Xuân Diệu rất tự hào coi đó là đỉnh cao của nghệ thuật tu từ mở đầu bằng hai câu:

Trong vườn đêm ấy nhiều trăng quá

Ánh sáng tuôn đầy các lối đi

Hoặc:   Bâng khuâng chân tiếc dậm lên vàng

Tôi sợ đường trăng tiếng dậy vang

cũng chỉ gây được một cảm giác bâng khuâng nhẹ nhàng cho người đọc. Hai câu thơ hay nhất của bài thơ này: “Trăng sáng, trăng xa, trăng rộng quá! Hai người nhưng chẳng bớt bơ vơ” thì hiệu quả được đẩy lên cao hơn. Đúng là trăng trong thơ Xuân Diệu chỉ là “vừa đủ sáng” để sương gió “nương theo”. Dù nó có “lạnh buốt”, dù nó có “nhập vào dây cung nguyệt lạn” hoặc “Sao vàng lẻ một trăng riêng chiếc” để thi nhân có thể “Hớp bóng trăng đầy miệng nhỏ xinh xinh” nó cũng không gây được ngạc nhiên hoặc cảm giác mãnh liệt cho người đọc. Biểu tượng nàng Trăng của Xuân Diệu nặng về phong cách lãng mạn, trực tiếp miêu tả đối tượng để bày tỏ ý nghĩ nội tâm mang nhiều cảm xúc hơn là cảm giác.

Ngược lại, vị giáo chủ của Thánh đường thơ Trăng Hàn Mặc Tử đưa chúng ta vào bầu trời đầy ấn tượng bằng “gợi cảm chứ không phải truyền cảm” [1, 215] với một trường liên tưởng kỳ diệu: lúc sợ sệt, lúc kinh ngạc và choáng ngợp mê man trước những hình ảnh dị thường. Ngay từ giai đoạn đầu tiên mới làm thơ ở Lệ Thanh thi tập, Hàn Mặc Tử đã loé lên những tia sáng khác lạ khiến mọi người phải ngỡ ngàng:“Hé cửa nhìn trăng, trăng tái mặt” hay “Bóng nguyệt leo song sờ sẫm gối” và:

Trăng nằm sóng soãi trên cành liễu

Đợi gió đông về để lả lơi

Hoa lá ngây tình không muốn động

Lòng em hồi hộp, chị Hằng ơi.

(Bẽn lẽn)

Ở đây, thi sĩ đã đưa bản năng rạo rực khát khao của mình ra ngoài vũ trụ và đã nhận thức mình là một bộ phận của nó. Hàn Mặc Tử đã xây dựng cho ông một thế giới thơ riêng khi ông hòa tan vào thiên nhiên vui buồn, đau khổ, cuồng nộ và bạo liệt như tính chất thất thường dữ dội của nó. “Ánh trăng mỏng quá che không nổi/ Những vẻ xanh xao của mặt hồ” (Huyền ảo), dường như vũ trụ bao la vẫn còn chật không đủ chỗ cho tiềm thức của ông du ngoạn, không che chở nổi những trống trải cô đơn ghê sợ của tâm linh. Sau này khi tiến xa hơn thì thơ ông hoàn toàn là một thế giới siêu thực mênh mông huyền ảo: “Sao bông phượng nở trong màu huyết /Nhỏ xuống lòng tôi những giọt châu” (Mật đắng) để đến nỗi “Tiếng hú hồn tôi xô vỡ sóng”. Trong các nhà Thơ Mới chỉ mình ông đi liền một mạch từ lãng mạn đến siêu thực. Sống trong nghèo khổ bệnh tật, ông luôn phân thân, hoang tưởng mà tư duy nghệ thuật là một trường mộng mị dài dằng dặc đến cuối cuộc đời. Thơ ông là một thứ Kinh thánh thấm đẫm tinh thần tôn giáo, thăm thẳm lời cầu nguyện đến vĩnh hằng và thượng đế.

Cuộc sống của ông là cuộc sống của Trăng: “Ngả nghiêng đồi cao bọc trăng ngủ /Đầy mình lốm đốm những hào quang” (Ngủ với trăng) với màu sắc Liêu trai lúc nào cũng “Lâng lâng mây khói quyện trăng đêm” để bay lên “Nguyệt thềm” cùng tôn giáo của riêng ông. Ông chứng kiến “Trăng nằm sóng soãi trên cành liễu”, chứng kiến sự hồi hộp khát khao của chị Hằng hay của chính mình: “Ô kìa bóng nguyệt trần truồng tắm/ Lộ cái khuôn vàng dưới đáy khe”(Bẽn lẽn) rồi cùng “Trăng xuân tràn trề say chới với” để lại cái ánh sáng ma quái ghê rợn “lờn lợt” như kim đâm nhoi nhói vào trái tim người đọc. Mối quan hệ đặc biệt giữa trăng và nhà thơ nhất là một người mang bệnh phong ác hiểm mà thời bấy giờ vô phương cứu chữa do trình độ y học hay đó là định mệnh đã đóng đinh lên số phận nghiệt ngã để chúng ta có một nhà thơ quái kiệt đau thương. “Người trăng ăn vận toàn trăng cả” dù đói nghèo, dù rách rưới, dù “Gió trăng sẵn có làm sao ăn?” kể cả nỗi khổ của sinh nhai tưởng chừng đã lên tới đỉnh điểm nhưng sự nghèo đói của ông không phải là nghèo đói bình thường, nó là một thứ cao sang thanh khiết ở cõi tinh thần.

“Trăng, ánh trăng đã để lại những cảm giác vật chất lên thân xác Hàn Mặc Tử” [1, 229]. Đúng vậy,cảm giác vật chất hữu cơ của ánh trăng đè nặng lên thân xác ông, cuộc đời ông, khác với Xuân Diệu khi nhà thơ này thi vị hóa nó thì ông trần tục hóa nó vì nó biết “Leo song sờ sẫm gối” nó“sóng soãi “lơi lả mơn trớn vuốt ve, nó trần truồng để “Lộ cái khuôn vàng dưới đáy khe”, dù “mới lớn lên” nó đã biết “thẹn thò” và “thơm như tình ái”. Vầng trăng của thơ ông mang tính hai mặt: vừa vật chất, vừa tinh thần, vừa trần tục lại vừa thiêng liêng.“Hàn Mặc Tử đi trong trăng, há miệng cho máu tung ra làm biển cả, cho hồn văng ra, và rú lên những tiếng ghê người”[2, 204]. Ông không thể thoát ra khỏi sự ám ảnh ghê gớm của nó, lúc nó tối tăm, lúc nó chói lòa như hai mặt đối lập của Thiên đường và Địa ngục. Trong một “Không gian dầy đặc toàn trăng cả/Tôi cũng trăng mà nàng cũng trăng” (Huyền ảo), ông mặc quần áo bằng một thứ vải trăng, ông ăn trăng, ông uống trăng, ông nuốt trăng, ngậm trăng rồi giao hoan cùng nó, hóa thân vào nó:

Gió rít tầng cao trăng ngã ngửa

Vỡ tan thành vũng đọng vàng khô

Ta nằm trong vũng trăng đêm ấy

Sáng dậy điên cuồng mửa máu ra

(Say trăng)

Trăng ở đây cũng chính là Hồn và Máu của thi nhân. Hàn Mặc Tử sống với những cơn đau triền miên khủng khiếp “sượng sần tê điếng”, ”Tôi đau vì rùng rợn đến vô biên”, không ai chia sẻ một nỗi đau bệnh hoạn và cô độc kể cả Thượng đế. Nhiều lúc nhà thơ muốn: “Tôi dìm hồn xuống một vũng trăng êm/Cho trăng ngập đần lên tới ngực” (Hồn là ai). Thơ ông là những dòng đầy máu lệ, đầy tiếng thác gào của một cơn thác nước mắt trong suốt tuôn vào gió bụi. Bệnh tật đã khiến cơ thể ông hao mòn suy nhược nhưng ngược lại nó cũng khơi ngòi cho ông một nguồn cảm hứng sáng tạo vô biên. Ở ông, đau thương đồng nghĩa với sáng tạo. Ông dùng nó làm một phương tiện cứu rỗi, ông đưa nó lên cung bậc cao nhất của nghệ thuật:

Cứ để ta ngất ngư trên vũng huyết

Trải niềm đau trên mảnh giấy mong manh

Đừng nắm lại nguồn thơ ta đang siết

Cả lòng ta trong mớ chữ rung rinh.

(Rướm máu)

Ngôn từ ông sử dụng nằm cạnh nhau đã đẩy giá trị của chúng thành châu ngọc vô giá. Hồn và Máu trong thơ ông đã thăng hoa thành hương thơm nghi ngút linh thiêng kết tụ ở tập Đau thương như là một tập thơ hay nhất trong sự nghiệp của ông. Cái ước nguyện sáng tạo của ông dữ dội và mãnh liệt: “Ta muốn hồn trào ra đầu ngọn bút/Mỗi lời thơ đều dính não cân ta/ Bao nét chữ quay cuồng như máu vọt/Như mê man tê điếng cả làn da” (Rướm máu). Có vẻ như bệnh hoạn, có vẻ như điên rồ, nhà thơ tràn đầy khoái cảm đến cực độ khi thấy máu mình chảy, tim óc mình vỡ  văng ra khỏi cơ thể để đau thương được tan vào vũ trụ và tinh tú nhật nguyệt đều chiếu lên không trung cái màu đỏ ghê sợ ấy: “Bao giờ mặt nhật tan thành máu” để “khối lòng”, “niềm yêu”, “ý nhớ” cũng “Hoá thành vũng máu đào trong ác lặn” giữa một vùng không gian bao la toàn máu!

Càng về cuối đời, thơ ông càng tha thiết, thanh thoát, an nhiên, chấp nhận, không còn chất gào thét điên cuồng dữ dội như đã trút hết cơn “lâm lụy” nơi trần thế, dọn sạch mình để chuẩn bị đi vào cõi vĩnh hằng viên mãn một vườn Xuân như ý, Cầu nguyện để lại “ra đời” làm một Á Thánh cưỡi “Phượng hoàng bay trong một tối trăng sao” (Đêm xuân cầu nguyện), tận hưởng phúc lạc của Mùa xuân hôn phối:

Như song lộc triều nguyên ơn phước cả

Dâng cao dâng thần nhạc sáng hơn trăng

Thơm tho bay cho đến cõi Thiên Đàng

(Thánh nữ đồng trinh Maria)

rồi “cảm động rưng rưng hai hàng lệ” vì biết ơn đấng tối cao, Đức mẹ và “các vị rất thánh” đã “giàu đức, giàu muôn hộc từ bi” để nhà thơ vui vẻ “hớp bao nhiêu khí vị” bởi “Trong miệng ngậm câu ca thần bí /Và trong tay nắm một nạm hào quang/Tôi no rồi, ơn võ lộ hòa chan” (Thánh nữ đồng trinh Maria). Thi nhân đã coi mình là một “Thánh thể kết tinh” đã tìm thấy nơi mình đến nên ông đã thành kính “Cho tôi thắp hai hàng cây bạch lạp/Khói nghiêm trang sẽ dâng lên tràn ngập/Cả hàn gian, cả màu sắc thiên không” rồi “đê mê nguyền ước”:

Tấu lạy Bà, lạy Bà đầy ơn phước

Cho tình tôi nguyên vẹn tợ trăng rằm

Thơ trong trắng như một khối băng tâm

Luôn luôn reo trong hồn, trong mạch máu

(Thánh nữ đồng trinh Maria)

Như vậy, Trăng, Hồn và Máu đã trở thành biểu tượng nghệ thuật bất biến, thường trực và xuyên suốt trong thơ Hàn Mặc Tử. Từ lúc bắt đầu làm thơ cho đến những ngày cuối đời ông, biểu tượng này đã theo ông bay lên “Trên thiên triều ngời chói vạn hào quang”.

Trong cuộc đời 28 năm ngắn ngủi, chỉ 12 năm đi với nàng thơ nhưng Hàn Mặc Tử đã đưa được nàng thơ lên đến tuyệt đỉnh của nghệ thuật. So với những thi sĩ cùng thời, ông đã trở thành ngọn núi khổng lồ cao sừng sững trên bầu trời rực rỡ của thi ca và để lại cho đời những kiệt tác rung động lòng người. Tiếc thay! Tài cao không sống lâu! Nhưng sống như ông, sáng tạo như ông thì chỉ có ông mới có một sự nghiệp phi thường để hậu thế muôn đời sau luôn kinh ngạc, ngưỡng mộ và kính phục. Hàn Mặc Tử chính là niềm tự hào của nền văn học Việt Nam – một Thánh Thi với cái tên là Bất Tử chói sáng hào quang trên bảng Phong Trần.

 

 

TÀI LIỆU THAM KHẢO

1. Đỗ Lai Thúy.  Mắt thơ, Nxb Văn hoá thông tin, Hà Nội (2000).
2. Hoài Thanh, Hoài Chân. Thi nhân Việt Nam, Nxb Văn học, Hà Nội (TB 2000).
3. Lại Nguyên Ân (tập hợp và biên soạn). Thơ Mới 1932 – 1945 tác giả và tác  phẩm, Nxb Hội nhà văn, Hà Nội (1998).

 

THE ARTISTIC SYMBOLS IN THE JOURNEY

OF POEMS OF HAN MAC TU

Dang Thi Ngoc Phuong

SUMMARY

While fighting against the serious disease which caused painful impacts upon his short but talented poetic fate,Han Mac Tu wrote dazzling painful poems with the most glorious artistic symbols: Moon, Soul and Blood that profoundly obsess the readers. The disease eroded his body but at the same time created endless inspiration for him. To him, pain meant creativity.

Moon, Soul and Blood were the permanent and unchangeable artistic symbols of Han Mac Tu’s poems. From the day, he wrote the first poems till the end of his life, the symbols flew with him up to the peak of art.

TẠP CHÍ KHOA HỌC, Đại học Huế, Số 26, 2005

THỌ GIỚI

 

Thích Nhất Chân

 

Trong Phật giáo Ðại thừa, Giới không phải chỉ là một căn bản chung cho mọi người tu Ðạo của bất cứ tông phái nào, Giới cũng không phải chỉ là một bài học vỡ lòng về Ðạo, hay chỉ là một sự thực hành phụ kèm theo các sự thực hành chính yếu của Thiền Quán, mà Giới còn là một chủ trương và thực hành chính yếu lập thành một Tông phái riêng rẽ quan trọng nữa. Mà đã là một tông phái thì phải có giáo thuyết lập trường chính xác và rõ ràng. Chính vì thế mà mọi ý nghĩa về Giới mới được quán sát và giải thích tinh vi tường tận qua các tổ sư của Luật tông. Sự hiểu lầm hay lơ là về thật nghĩa của Giới thường bị các tổ Luật tông than phiền và chỉ trích… Dù gì đi nữa thì bất kể tông phái sai khác, Giới vẫn là một cánh cửa mà ai cũng phải di qua nếu họ muốn vào trong kho tàng của đạo Phật. Vậy, Giới là gì vậy ? Phần trình bày sau đây chỉ nói về các ý nghĩa căn bản chung của Giới trong khuôn khổ của Giới luật tại gia mà thôi.

Thường khi nói đến thọ Giới, chúng ta thường hay nghĩ ngay là không được làm điều này, không được làm điều kia, phải giữ gìn các điều cấm giới rất khó giữ mà phạm vào là coi như có tội, chúng ta cảm thấy Giới như một sự gò bó khó chịu, một gánh nặng phải đeo mang. Nếu có ai trì giữ được nghiêm ngặt thì quá lắm được mọi người xung quanh khen tặng và thán phục, nhưng rồi để làm gì thì chúng ta không mấy rõ ràng lắm. Ðại đa số thì chỉ lo là “khó lắm ! giữ không được tội chết !”. Chúng ta làm như thể rằng là đức Phật, khi Ngài chế lập ra Giới, là vô tình hay cố ý đã tạo cho chúng ta một vấn đề khó xử. Có người thành tâm muốn thọ Giới, song băn khoăn “tham sân si như mình thì làm sao giữ giới đây ?”. Có người tự hào là chỉ có mình là giới hạnh vẹn toàn, có người chuyên dùng Giới để xoi mói và chỉ trích người khác.

Có phải chăng đức Phật chế lập ra Giới là để tạo ra tất cả mọi vấn đề nêu trên ? Dĩ nhiên là Không ! Và để xác định cái chữ “Không” này, chúng ta cần phải xác định lại về ý nghĩa chính yếu của Giới vậy.

Trước tiên nói đến Giới, chúng ta cần thiết phải phân biệt ngay ra hai thành phần chính yếu của Giới, đó là Giới thể và Giới tướng. Khi nghe nói đến Giới, lập tức người ta nghĩ ngay là không được làm điều này, không được làm điều kia, nghĩ ngay đến các giới điều mà mình phải trì giữ. Các điều không được làm ấy, các Giới điều ấy, được gọi là Giới tướng. Chúng ta cho rằng thọ Giới có nghĩa là nhận lãnh các Giới tướng ấy mà trì giữ, và đó là toàn thể ý nghĩa của thọ Giới. Nghĩ như thế là một thiếu sót quá lớn và dễ đưa đến các nhận định sai lạc hoàn toàn về ý nghĩa chân chính của Giới. Trái lại và đúng ra, khi nói đến chữ Giới, tức nói đến Giới thể, khi nói đến thọ Giới, tức nói là thọ nhận Giới thể ; khi trong Luật nói một người đắc Giới, thì có nghĩa là người đó đắc Giới thể chứ không phải là Giới tướng, tức các giới điều này nọ. Tất cả toàn bộ các nghi thức thọ Giới đều là các pháp thức truyền trao và thọ nhận Giới thể chứ không phải là truyền trao hay thọ nhận Giới tướng. Vậy Giới thể là gì vậy ?

Ðức Phật không bao giờ giết hại dù là đối với bất cứ chúng sinh loại nào. Loài người chúng ta, đa số chỉ không giết chính loài người, chứ còn các loài khác thì chúng ta vẫn giết hại như thường. Ngay cả đối với loài người, đôi khi chúng ta chỉ không giết người lành, chứ còn kẻ ác, kẻ thù thì vẫn coi là giết được. Vậy khi chúng ta không giết hại một người hiền, thì hành động không giết của chúng ta có khác gì vói hành động không giết của đức Phật hay không ? Trên mặt hiện tượng thì không khác nhau, song trong Luật cho là không hề giống nhau chút nào. Vì hành động không giết của chúng ta chỉ giới hạn nơi người hiền mà thôi, với kẻ ác và kẻ thù chúng ta có thể giết ; trong khi đức Phật hiền hay ác, thân thay thù, Ngài cũng không bao giờ giết. Vậy nếu tôi cũng không giết ai hết dù là kẻ ác hay người thù thì phải chăng hành động không giết của tôi sẽ không khác gì với hành động không giết của đức Phật  ? Vẫn khác, vì hành động không giết của tôi vẫn chỉ giới hạn nơi loài người mà thôi ; còn Phật không giết là đối với tất cả mọi loài hữu tình. Nếu tôi cũng vậy, không giết bất cứ loài hữu tình nào hết, thì có khác gì với hành động không giết của đức Phật hay không ? Vẫn khác, vì có thể gặp trường hợp chẳng đặng đừng tôi vẫn phải ra tay giết như thường ; Phật không vậy, dù là bất cứ trường hợp nào, tế nhị ra sao đi nữa, Ngài cũng không giết. Vậy nếu tôi cũng thế, thà là mất mạng của chính mình chứ quyết không giết bất cứ loài nào trong bất cứ hoàn cảnh nào, như thế tôi có có được hành động không giết của đức Phật rồi hay chưa ? Vẫn chưa, vì hành động dứt khoát không sát của tôi vẫn chỉ giới hạn nơi hiện tại và trong một khoảng không gian hạn hẹp này thôi ; trong khi hành động không sát của đức Phật thể nhập khắp hết mười phương và ba thời vô cùng tận. Song nếu tôi cũng thế, tôi sẽ không sát khắp cùng hết mười phương và ba thời thì sao đây ? Không lẽ vẫn không phải là hành động không sát của đức Phật ? Vẫn hoàn toàn không phải ! Vì hành động không sát viên mãn đó của tôi vẫn đưa đến luân hồi nên ô nhiễm và không giải thoát ; trong khi hành động không sát của đức Phật hoàn toàn chấm dứt luân hồi nên thanh tịnh và giải thoát.

Bằng mọi cách, cho dù tôi có thực hành các điều không sát sinh, không trộm cắp, không dâm dục, không nói láo v.v… có vẹn toàn đến đâu đi nữa, tôi vẫn chỉ là người làm thiện chứ không phải là người trì Giới. Bởi vì các việc làm thiện ấy vẫn đưa tôi vào luân hồi bất tận như thường ; trong khi Giới có nghĩa là vượt thoát ra khỏi luân hồi. Thế nên trong Luật tông mới nhắc nhở chúng ta cần phải biết phân biệt giữa thiện và Giới là vậy. Bằng cách nào đi nữa hành động không giết của chúng ta vẫn chỉ là thiện luân hồi, và chỉ có hành động không giết của đức Phật mới là Giới giải thoát. Tại sao tôi không thể y như đức Phật mà tôi vẫn chỉ có thiện thôi chứ không sao có Giới được ?

Bởi vì làm sao đi nữa thì tôi vẫn là tôi, Phật vẫn là Phật. Có nghĩa là bản thể của tôi luôn luôn chỉ là vô minh chấp ngã, tham sân si, trong khi bản thể của Phật luôn luôn lại là giác ngộ vô ngã, thanh tịnh giải thoát. Từ bản thể thanh tịnh giải thoát vô ngã này tự động đức Phật, đối với vô lượng pháp giới chúng sinh trong ba thời mười phương, không bao giờ lại giết, trộm, dâm hay vọng… Các hành động không giết, không trộm… này có bản thể là thanh tịnh giải thoát giác ngộ vô ngã, nên chúng được gọi là Giới. Trong khi các hành động không giết… của tôi được điều động từ bản ngã của tôi, từ tâm phân biệt phải trái đúng sai, từ tình cảm thương ghét nặc mùi tham sân si của tôi, bản thể của chúng ô nhiễm như thế, thế nên chúng chỉ là thiện chứ không sao là Giới được.

Do đó, nếu tôi muốn các hành động không giết v.v… của tôi trở thành Giới, thì tôi phải làm sao cho các hành động thiện ấy có được một bản thể thanh tịnh giải thoát y như của đức Phật. Khi các hành động thiện này có được một bản thể thanh tịnh như thế rồi thì chúng mới được gọi là các điều Giới tướng, và bản thể thanh tịnh giải thoát kia của các điều Giới tướng kia được gọi là Giới thể.

Thọ Giới do đó chính là để thọ nhận Giới thể này vậy. Do đó, điều một người thọ Giới phải phân vân là làm sao để đắc được Giới thể chứ không phải là có giữ được điều này hay giữ được điều kia hay không. Và thọ Giới không có nghĩa là vào một kỷ luật sắt thép nào đó để rồi cứ tiếp tục lòng vòng trong các cõi luân hồi bất tận, mà thọ Giới có nghĩa là thâu nhận lấy một bản thể thanh tịnh giải thoát vào tâm mình để rồi ra sức trì giữ và phát triển cho bản thể ấy trở thành quả giải thoát viên mãn khỏi luân hồi. Thọ Giới như thế là gieo nhân mà giải thoát Niết Bàn là kết quả, con đường hay tiến trình từ nhân đến quả gọi là Ðạo. Người thọ Giới như thế là người cất bước đi vào con đường Ðạo giải thoát, một con đường tâm linh, chứ không phải là một người hành thiện hay một nhà đạo đức.

Như vậy, vấn đề thọ Giới hoàn toàn thuộc về con đường Ðạo. Khi một người lưỡng lự không biết là mình có nên thọ Giới hay không, thì đó có nghĩa là mình có nên chấp nhận đức Phật làm Thầy hay không, có nên quy y về với Tam Bảo hay không, có nên đi theo Ðạo Phật, tức con đường mà đức Phật chỉ ra, để đạt đến cứu cánh giải thoát hay không, chứ không phải lưỡng lự chỉ là vì chưa giữ được giới điều này hay làm sao giữ được giới điều kia. Một khi đã dứt khoát là chúng ta sẽ “theo” Ðạo Phật, thì bước đầu tiên để đi theo ấy chính là thọ Giới, là làm sao có được một bản thể thanh tịnh gọi là Giới thể cho sự tu tập của mình trở thành một sự hành đạo, tức có nghĩa là mình đi trên con đường Ðạo vậy. Muốn có Giới thể ấy, chúng ta cần phải thực hiện pháp thức thọ Giới. Vậy pháp thức thọ Giới này ra sao mà chúng ta có thể đạt được một Giới thể như thế ?

Pháp thức thọ Giới giản dị chỉ là thực hiện sự Quy Y cho chúng ta. Quy y có tác dụng nhằm thọ nạp lấy bản thể thanh tịnh giải thoát từ đức Phật truyền vào trong tâm của chúng ta để trở thành Giới thể thanh tịnh giải thoát của chúng ta. Các tổ Luật tông Trung Hoa dựa theo Tứ phần Luật xác định rằng chính ngay lúc Tam quy vừa chấm dứt là lúc thọ đắc Giới thể ; và đồng thời các ngài thể theo Thành Thật Luận và Duy Thức Tông mà xác định tiếp rằng Giới thể ấy là chủng tử Ðạo thanh tịnh và giải thoát được gieo vào trong A Lại Gia Thức của người thọ giới, nhờ có chủng tử như thế nên khi chúng ta ra sức tu hành mới có được kết quả của Phật Ðạo. Tam quy để có Giới thể như thế là căn bản duy nhất phải có của toàn thể tòa kiến trúc của Ðạo pháp, như một nhà trồng trọt muốn có hoa mầu để thu hoạch thì cần thiết nhất là phải có hạt giống để mà gieo cấy trước đã. Tâm chúng ta là đất ruộng, Giới thể là hạt giống, hành động quy y là gieo hạt giống vào đất ruộng, nhận lấy Giới tướng để tu trì là cầy cấy tưới bón chăm sóc cho hạt giống tăng trưởng. Ðạo quả là vụ mùa thu hoạch được.

Quy y do đó có tầm vóc quan trọng bậc nhất đối với sự tu hành trên con đường Ðạo Phật, song vẫn luôn luôn bị người Phật tử lơ là và coi nhẹ, chúng ta thường coi đó là một hình thức lấy lệ. Chúng ta cho rằng tu hành là phải thực hành pháp môn này hay pháp môn kia thì mới là tu hành. Nhưng nếu chúng ta không có được một chủng tử Ðạo trong tâm thì hành pháp môn nào cũng chỉ là xây lâu đài trong không. Thế nên chúng ta cần thiết phải quy y thọ Giới để mà có được chủng tử của Ðạo gọi là Giới thể trước khi áp dụng tu tập bất cứ pháp môn nào.

Một cách tổng quát quy y thọ Giới thể có nghĩa như sau : vì bản thể của chúng ta căn bản là tham sân si, nên chúng ta không hề có chủng tử của Ðạo ; chúng ta lại muốn đạt đến kết quả của Ðạo, nên chúng ta hết sức cần có chủng tử ấy. Phật là quả của Ðạo, Ngài là toàn thể những gì là Ðạo, thế nên một khi chúng ta muốn có được chủng tử Ðạo, bắt buộc chúng ta phải nương về Ngài, mong rằng Ngài sẽ truyền đạt cái bản thể Ðạo ấy lại cho chúng ta. Ðức Phật thành Ðạo không ngoài mục tiêu là để cứu độ tất cả chúng sinh, phương tiện để cứu độ này chính là Tam Bảo, tức là nơi mà bản thể thanh tịnh giải thoát và giác ngộ hiển hiện ra trọn vẹn toàn thân, được coi như một suối nguồn truyền đạt Ðạo chủng đến cho tất cả chúng sinh vậy.

Lại vì Ðạo hay bản thể thanh tịnh giải thoát của Ngài chính là bản Tâm của Ngài, thế nên Ngài không thể truyền lại cho chúng ta như truyền một cái y hay truyền một cái bát, và chúng ta cũng không thể thọ nhận bằng cách đưa tay ra lấy như lấy cái y hay cái bát được. Mà Ngài truyền Ðạo là truyền từ Tâm của Ngài qua âm thanh và chữ nghĩa bằng cách nói Pháp (tức ngữ nghiệp), và chúng ta đón nhận lấy cũng bằng tâm của chúng ta qua sự tác ý lắng nghe âm thanh từ ngữ của Ngài, rồi tư duy về các ý nghĩa của các từ ngữ ấy. Tâm thanh tịnh của Ngài, xuyên qua các ý nghĩa và các từ ngữ ấy, sẵn sàng để thâm nhập vào trong tâm địa của chúng ta. Nếu chúng ta phát lòng tin tưởng và mong muốn đi theo Ngài, có được Ðạo như Ngài, thì lúc ấy chúng ta cần phải dùng đến ba nghiệp mà thực hiện pháp thức Tam quy, nhờ đó Tâm đạo thanh tịnh giải thoát và giác ngộ của Ngài sẽ truyền thẳng vào tâm chúng ta để trở thành Giới thể trong tâm chúng ta.

Lại vì tâm của chúng ta vẫn luôn là tâm phiền não vô mình ngã chấp, thế nên các Giới pháp mà đức Phật truyền sang tâm chúng ta khi ở nơi Tâm Ngài thì là một kết quả hoàn toàn viên mãn thanh tịnh. Khi truyền qua tâm chúng ta thì các Giới pháp thanh tịnh ấy bị pha trộn lẫn lộn với các pháp phiền não vô minh ngã chấp nơi tâm chúng ta, song Giới pháp thanh tịnh ấy không hề bị ô nhiễm lây mà luôn luôn giữ nguyên tính chất thanh tịnh của mình. Có điều nó không hiển lộ ra rõ ràng viên mãn như một kết quả, nó được coi là một chủng tử thanh tịnh trong lòng phiền não, mà trong Luật và Luận gọi là Giới thể vô biểu. Chính nhờ chủng tử vô biểu này mà người tu đạo mới có được kết quả giải thoát vậy. Tại sao lại gọi Giới thể là vô biểu ?

Theo Luật và Luận nói, khi thọ Giới xong rồi, giới tử đã đắc Giới thể, khi ra khỏi giới tràng tâm của giới tử trở lại trạng thái bình thường hằng ngày, nghĩa là các phiền não tiếp tục khởi lên quấy nhiễu, giới tử có thể khởi đủ thứ ác tâm nữa, song cái chủng tử Giới thể kia vẫn tiếp tục có mặt liên tục trong tâm của giới tử hoàn toàn rất ẩn mật, như hạt giống ẩn kín dưới mặt đất không hiển lộ ra bên ngoài, nên được gọi là vô biểu.

Như thế, ý nghĩa thọ Giới rõ ràng là một hoạt động “truyền đạo” hay “điểm đạo“, hay đúng hơn là một hoạt động “lấy tâm truyền tâm” giống như khẩu hiệu “dĩ tâm truyền tâm” phổ thông trong tông Thiền. Tuy nhiên sự khác biệt vẫn là rõ ràng giữa một đàng là Tông môn (tức Thiền tông) một đàng là Giáo môn (tức tất cả các tông phái Ðại thừa khác ngoài Thiền). Trong khi với Thiền, tâm được truyền ở đây chính là tâm của người học đạo, chứ không phải là tâm của một ai khác từ bên ngoài truyền vào, thế nên Thiền thích nói “dĩ tâm ấn tâm” hơn là “dĩ tâm truyền tâm“. Vì với Thiền chính tự tâm của chúng ta là Phật rồi, thì tại sao lại còn cần phải có Phật khác truyền vào nữa ? Trong khi với Luật tông, mà vốn là căn bản của tất cả mọi tông phái khác, thì tâm của chúng ta là tâm phiền não ô nhiễm, khác hẳn với tâm của Phật là giác ngộ và thanh tịnh. Ðã đành Luật tông cũng chấp nhận rằng là tất cả chúng sinh đều có Phật tính, tâm chúng sinh cũng vốn là bản giác đồng đẳng với tất cả chư Phật, song chúng sinh vẫn là chúng sinh và Phật vẫn là Phật khác hẳn nhau, như nước trong nước đục thì cũng đều là nước, song không phải vì vậy nước đục cũng chính là nước trong.

Thiền tông truyền tâm là chỉ thẳng ra (trực chỉ) cho người học cái tâm thể siêu việt thường hằng phi thời gian phi không gian mà vốn sẵn có ngay đó của họ, và tâm này được trực tiếp truyền đến kẻ học bởi một vị Thầy thật sự giác ngộ.

Trong khi trong Luật tông, cái tâm thể siêu việt kia không phải là vấn đề của Ðạo, của sự tu tập hành đạo với nguyên tắc nhân và quả. Tâm chúng sinh có hai phương diện, nơi phương diện “tâm tức là Phật” thời tất cả tịch diệt bình đẳng từ Phật cho đến ruồi muỗi côn trùng, nơi ấy không có chuyện nhân quả tu tập, không có phân biệt tội phúc thánh phàm gì hết, nơi phương diện này không có tâm nào truyền tâm nào hết, quá lắm là tâm này ấn khả cho tâm kia mà thôi. Cũng như nếu chỉ nói về bản thể của nước không thôi, thì hễ cứ là chất lỏng thấm ướt thì gọi là nước, chứ không có phân biệt gì trong đục, mặn nhạt, nước thuốc nước độc gì hết, tất cả mọi loại nước đều bình đẳng. Song một khi đã nói đến tu tập tức nói đến nhân quả, đúng sai hay dở, thì phải trở qua phương diện “tâm chúng sinh căn bổn là phiền não“, nơi phương diện này Phật là Phật và chúng sinh là chúng sinh, chúng sinh là đau khổ phiền não và Phật là giải thoát thanh tịnh, và chúng sinh phải thọ Giới tu tập vô lượng vô biên kiếp mới thành Phật được, nơi phương diện này người tu muốn có Ðạo chủng thì phải dùng tâm phiền não của mình mà thọ nhận lấy Ðạo pháp ấy từ Tâm Phật truyền sang. Cũng như cùng là nước, song trong vẫn khác với đục, mặn vẫn khác với ngọt, độc vẫn khác với thuốc. Tâm chúng sinh như là nước có thuốc độc, Tâm Phật như nước có chất giải độc, nay thọ Giới là truyền Tâm Phật vào tâm chúng sinh, không khác gì cho nước giải độc vào trong nước độc để trị cho hết độc, chứ không phải cứ nói “nước độc nước thuốc cũng đều là nước“, thế nên cứ chỉ thẳng ra cho thấy nước độc cũng chính là nước thì đó là chân lý tối thượng rồi. Và người truyền ở đây chính là đức Phật hiện thân qua Tam Bảo, còn giới sư truyền giới chỉ là trung gian mà thôi. Bởi vì khi thọ nhận Giới thể là quy y về với Tam Bảo để thọ nhận lấy phần bản thể thanh tịnh ấy nơi Tam Bảo, chứ không phải là quy y riêng với cá nhân của giới sư mà có thể có được Giới thể ấy.

Chính vì trong Luật tông vị thầy chỉ là trung gian để Tam Bảo truyền tâm cho mình, thế nên vị thầy không bắt buộc phải giác ngộ, mà chỉ cần là vị giới sư thọ giới trước mình và hiểu biết rõ ràng về cách thức thọ giới để hướng dẫn và chỉ bảo cho mình, thầy và trò đều là phàm như nhau và đều được Tam Bảo truyền Ðạo sang cho. Do đó cách truyền Ðạo trong Luật tông là phổ thông cho tất cả mọi hạng chúng sinh, không cần phải là một vị “thầy” giác ngộ đặc biệt nào đó và người đệ tử phải là một nhân vật hữu duyên với căn tính siêu việt nào đó, như sơ tổ Ðạt Ma quán vách nhập định chín năm để chỉ đợi chờ có một người mà truyền tâm ấn, đó là nhị tổ Huệ Khả với căn tính siêu việt sẵn sàng chặt tay cầu Ðạo. Với Luật tông, Tam Bảo là Ðạo và là nền tảng Ðạo cho tất cả mọi loài chúng sinh, mọi hạng chúng sinh bất kể căn tính cao hay thấp đều đắc được Giới, nghĩa là đều được Tam Bảo truyền Ðạo sang cho mình, chỉ miễn là mình thực hiện đúng cách pháp thức thọ Giới. Vì thế pháp thức thọ giới hết sức quan trọng trong Luật tông vậy.

Người thọ Giới, tức là giới tử, cần phải có một giai đoạn chuẩn bị để hiểu rõ về các ý nghĩa của Tam Bảo, của Giới pháp, của Giới thể, rồi phải biết cách quán tâm vận tưởng, đại khái như sau : vì bản thể của đức Phật là giác ngộ thoát khỏi tất cả mọi xung lực của kiến chấp và phiền não tham sân si, thế nên bản thể ấy hoàn toàn thanh tịnh giải thoát và chấm dứt tất cả mọi ác nghiệp đối với toàn thể pháp giới chúng sinh. Sự thanh tịnh và chấm dứt ác nghiệp này gọi là Giới pháp, vì pháp giới chúng sinh vốn vô lượng nên Giới pháp này cũng theo đó mà thành vô lượng. Do đó giới tử muốn đón nhận Tâm giới thanh tịnh ấy của Phật vào tâm mình, giới tử cần phải lấy toàn thể pháp giới chúng sinh vô lượng làm cảnh đối tượng để quán và đồng thời phải phát khởi một tâm phẩm thanh tịnh là dứt khoát thực hành giới đối với vô lượng chúng sinh như thế. Thêm vào, giới tử phải thật tâm chân thành và tha thiết mong muốn thâu nhận hết vô lượng vô biên giới thanh tịnh ấy vào tâm mình, trong Luật gọi là tâm “thuần trọng“. Ðể được như thế, giới tử phải quán tưởng thân của mình rộng lớn bao trùm hết hư không giới để thâu nạp trọn vô lượng Giới pháp vào thân tâm mình, trong Luật tông nói : “nếu Giới pháp vốn vô lượng này mà lại là vật chất thì khi thâu nhận vào trong thân này, thân này sẽ nổ tung ra. Cũng vì Giới pháp là tâm pháp, thế nên nhờ vào nghiệp lực quán tưởng bất khả tư nghị của tâm, mà chúng sinh mới thâu nạp Giới pháp được…”

Sau khi đã ý thức rõ ràng hết mọi ý nghĩa chân thật lợi ích vô cùng của Giới rồi, và sau khi đã khởi tâm đúng phẩm, quán tưởng đúng cảnh rồi, giới tử còn cần phải sám hối cho ba nghiệp thanh tịnh nữa. Với Luật tông, cũng như Mật tông hay Tịnh Ðộ tông, ba nghiệp thân khẩu ý là căn bản và là phương tiện duy nhất của tất cả mọi sự tu tập thực hành. Sự thực hành giữa ba nghiệp hầu như quan trọng ngang nhau, chứ không thiên hẳn hoàn toàn về tâm như các tông phái ưa tu thiền quán. Ba nghiệp là phương tiện duy nhất để chuyển biến tất cả tinh túy của Tâm Phật truyền sang tâm mình. Ngay đức Phật, khi Ngài muốn cứu độ chúng sinh thì Ngài cũng không có phương tiện nào hơn là ba nghiệp của Ngài. Vì thế ba nghiệp cần phải dọn sẵn cho thanh tịnh để chuyẩn bị thâu nạp Giới pháp của Phật chuyển sang thành Giới thể của mình.

Nhờ có hiểu rõ về mọi ý nghĩa của Giới rồi, giới tử mới có tâm nguyện tha thiết trân quý thọ Giới và phát tâm quán tưởng đúng pháp. Tâm nguyện ấy thúc đẩy hai nghiệp thân và khẩu của giới tử vào đến giới tràng, trước giới sư, sẵn sàng hoan hỉ chân thành thực hiện pháp thức Tam quy. Ðây cũng chính là giai đoạn chính thức hoạt động của ba nghiệp để thọ nạp Giới thể : giới tử chắp tay quỳ ngay ngắn (tức thân nghiệp), lập lại ba lần theo giới sư lời pháp ngữ Tam quy (tức ngữ nghiệp), và tâm đồng thời thực hành ba quán pháp (tức ý nghiệp). Pháp thức Tam quy vừa chấm dứt là giới tử đắc Giới thể. Tại sao Giới lại chỉ đắc được vào ngay sau lúc pháp thức Tam quy vừa chấm dứt này ?

Bởi vì khi nào cái tâm chấp ngã của chúng ta chịu thật sự quy y về Tam Bảo, thì lúc ấy Tâm Phật hay năng lực của Pháp Phật mới thật sự thâm nhập được vào trong tâm của chúng ta mà thôi, và Tam Bảo mới thật sự trở thành bản thể đạo thanh tịnh cho mọi sự tu hành của chúng ta. Còn cho dù chúng ta có tu hành đúng y như lời Phật dạy mà không có quy y Tam Bảo, thì coi như chúng ta không hề đi theo con đường của Ðạo Phật, bởi vì một sự tu hành như thế chỉ là tu cho “tôi“, theo ý thích “của tôi“, tất cả do “tôi” điều động làm chủ, cái “tôi” vẫn luôn luôn là bản thể của sự tu hành ấy, cho nên nó không bao giờ đưa đến một kết quả đúng nghĩa của Ðạo là giác ngộ và giải thoát.

Ngoài ra, trên phương diện giáo lý thời nếu do một ý muốn thiện hay ác điều động mà thân khẩu phát khởi lên các hành động lộ rõ ý muốn ấy ra, thì các hành động của thân khẩu này được gọi là biểu nghiệp ; và ngay khi các biểu nghiệp ấy hoàn tất, thì các biểu nghiệp ấy không chấm dứt luôn song tiếp tục để lại một “ảnh hưởng” của chúng trong tạng thức không hề lộ rõ ra ngoài, gọi là vô biểu. Vô biểu này chính là nhân để sẽ mang lại quả báo đáp lại tương xứng vói các hành động thiện ác nọ. Do đó muốn có nhân chủng vô biểu của Ðạo gọi là Giới thể, thì dù tâm nguyện đã tha thiết chắc chắn rồi, song vẫn phải đợi đến khi hai biểu nghiệp thân và khẩu quy y xong xuôi thì Giới thể mới thành tựu vậy.

Theo Luật tông thì Tam quy không phải là chỉ vận dụng có hai biểu nghiệp thân khẩu mà thôi, mà chúng ta còn phải phát khởi ý nghiệp theo ba cách quán nữa : khi nói lời Tam quy thứ nhất, giới tử phải quán tưởng do nghiệp lực của tâm thiện khao khát thọ giới của mình mà tất cả vô lượng Giới pháp duyên sẵn nơi vô lượng cảnh giới chúng sinh không còn ở yên nơi đó nữa, mà bắt đầu chuyển động để hướng về nơi giới tràng của mình. Khi nói lời Tam quy thứ hai, giới tử quán thấy vô biên Giới pháp quy về đến giới tràng tụ lại trong hư không ngay trên đỉnh đầu của mình như một đài mây sáng rực khổng lồ hay như một tàng lọng che trang nghiêm tuyệt diệu, chờ sẵn đó để tưới rót vào thân tâm mình. Khi nói lời Tam quy thứ ba, giới tử quán tưởng tất cả các Giới pháp ấy từ trên hư không tuôn rót qua đỉnh đầu mình, tràn ngập vào khắp trong thân tâm mình như tắm gội sạch tất cả mọi trần cấu và tràn đầy an lạc thanh tịnh. Và như thế là Giới thể thành tựu, pháp thức thọ Giới kết thúc. Phần còn lại sau đó là phần giới sư trao Giới tướng.

Theo Luật tông, giới tử không nhất thiết phải thọ nhận hết mọi Giới tướng để tu trì, mà tùy theo khả năng và hoàn cảnh của mình mà chọn lựa từ một giới cho đến trọn hết năm giới. Lý do cho chọn lựa theo khả năng và hoàn cảnh như thế là để cho giới tử có thể thực hành sự trì giới được, và tránh được sự phạm giới vì phải giữ các giới quá khả năng hay không đúng hoàn cảnh của mình. Nhưng lý do chính yếu nhất là thọ Giới là để đắc Giới thể, chứ không phải là Giới tướng. Có được Giới thể rồi thì sự hành trì các Giới tướng sau đó để duy trì và làm phát triển Giới thể này mới có ý nghĩa và mới trở thành cần thiết và quan trọng vậy.

Trong Luật tông, thể theo Thành Thật Luận, còn cho phép tùy nghi mà ước định thời gian thọ Giới nữa. Nghĩa là giới tử có thể thọ Năm giới trong vòng một ngày cho đến một tháng, một đời ; và có thể thọ Tám giới (bát quan trai) trong vòng nửa ngày cho đến suốt đời, chứ không cố định là phải một ngày một đêm.

Hạn kỳ thời gian thọ Giới này rất quan trọng. Nếu một giới tử chỉ nói lên thành lời rõ ràng rằng :”Con tên là… quy y Phật, quy y Pháp, quy y Tăng” thì đó không phải là thọ Giới mà chỉ là thọ Tam quy thôi. Nếu muốn Tam quy trở thành là thọ Giới, thì giới tử phải nói như sau :”Con tên là… quy y Phật, quy y Pháp, quy y Tăng. Nguyện suốt đời (hay ba tháng, một năm… tùy ý) làm Ưu Bà Tắc (hoạc Ưu Bà Di, nếu là nữ) Năm giới“. Theo đó, Giới thể sẽ hiện hữu và có mặt trong A Lại gia thức của giới tử cho đến bao giờ kỳ hạn ấy chấm dứt thì Giới thể mới mất theo, nghĩa là người đó không còn có Giới nữa. Theo nguyên tắc thì thời hạn thọ Giới tối đa của tất cả các loại giới như Năm giới, Tám giới, Mười giới cho đến Cụ Túc giới của vị tỳ kheo, chỉ trừ Bồ Tát giới ra, là trọn đời cho đến lúc chết. Tại sao nguyện lại phải có một kỳ hạn như vậy ?

Bởi vì nguyện (tức Tư) là một tác động của tâm thức có tác dụng làm phát sinh năng lực. Mỗi năng lực lại chỉ kéo dài trong một thời hạn nào đó mà thôi, thế nên việc ước định hạn kỳ là một yếu tố chính yếu trợ giúp cho năng lực của nguyện phát sinh. Khi tôi nguyện sẽ thọ Giới trong vòng một tháng, thì năng lực hành giới sẽ phát tiết ra đúng một tháng như vậy. Nếu một tâm nguyện mà không có thời hạn nào hết, thì lực của nguyện cũng vẫn phát sinh như thường, song nó có thể dập tắt, nghĩa là đổi ý bất cứ lúc nào nếu lại có một ý nguyện khác khởi lên. Do đó, thọ Giới phải có ước nguyện hạn kỳ rõ rệt.

Ngoài ra mỗi loại giới đều có Giới thể riêng, như Năm giới có Giới thể của Năm giới, Tám giới có Giới thể của Tám giới v.v… Do đó mà Tam quy tuy là một hình thức, song tùy theo có bao nhiêu loại giới thì có bấy nhiêu loại Tam quy, và dĩ nhiên khi thọ bất cứ loại giới nào, trừ Tỳ kheo giới và Bồ Tát giới, chúng ta cũng đều phải thực hiện pháp thức Tam quy để đắc Giới thể của loại giới ấy.

Những gì được đề cập đến trong suốt bài này tuy là những yếu tố chính yếu và căn bản của Giới luật nói chung, song vẫn chưa bao quát được hết mọi lãnh vực của Giới, như Tỳ kheo giới chẳng hạn, trong lãnh vực ấy vị Tỳ kheo đắc Giới thể không qua pháp thức Tam quy mà bằng pháp thức Yết ma ; và nhất là Bồ Tát giới, một lãnh vực mà nơi đó ý nghĩa của Giới đôi khi như mang hẳn một bộ mặt khác lạ hoàn toàn. Song trước khi bước sang các lãnh vực ấy, chúng ta còn phải hiểu rằng vấn đề thọ Giới trong Luật tông là cả một lý thuyết tinh vi về Nghiệp mà chúng ta sẽ có dịp bàn đến trong một đề tài riêng rẽ. Lại còn ý nghĩa của Tam Bảo, nơi nương tựa của toàn thể chúng sinh, kho năng lực bất tận cung cấp vô lượng nhân chủng thanh tịnh và giải thoát cho vô biên chúng sinh, mà vốn là bản thể của Giới luật, dĩ nhiên là một đề tài tối quan trọng nên cũng cần được khảo sát riêng.

Luật tông, cũng như Thiền tông hay Tịnh Ðộ tông, là các tông phái chuyên về thực hành, nên dù hàm chứa rất nhiều ý nghĩa và giáo thuyết tinh vi thâm sâu song lại ít được khai triển ra cho tường tận rõ ràng, thế nên chúng ta mới thường hay bắt gặp các thành kiến sai lầm như : Giới luật là hình thức gò bó, Tịnh Ðộ là tín ngưỡng bình dân, Thiền tông là mặc tình phá chấp. Thật ra, Luật và Tịnh là hai tông phái của đại chúng, nhằm nối kết vào với Tam Bảo tất cả mọi loại chúng sinh, mọi hạng hữu tình, bất kể già trẻ, nam nữ, khôn ngu, lợi căn độn căn…, cho tất cả được trực tiếp mà nhận lãnh lấy “Ðạo phần” từ nơi Tam Bảo hay từ nơi cảnh giới Tịnh Ðộ, lấy đó làm vốn liếng cho sự nghiệp giác ngộ và giải thoát của mình. Trong hai tông phái này không có “guru” truyền Ðạo cá nhân, không có “Master” điểm Ðạo riêng rẽ nào ngoài Tam Bảo hay cảnh giới Tịnh Ðộ. Các vị thầy chỉ là những người bạn tốt, các thiện hữu tri thức, các kalyànamitra của tất cả chúng sinh ở chỗ giúp cho chúng sinh có được đại sự nhân duyên “gặp gỡ” được Tam Bảo và mười phương chư Phật qua cảnh giới của Phật A Di Ðà, và sự gặp gỡ ấy là tất cả đầu mối của sự nghiệp Ðạo của riêng từng cá nhân mỗi chúng sinh vậy.

 

tháng 7 năm 1998

 

BÌNH NGÔ ĐẠI CÁO

BÌNH NGÔ ĐẠI CÁO

Nguyễn Trãi (1427)

Tượng mảng:

Việc nhân nghiã cốt ở yên dân;

quân điếu phạt chỉ vì khử bạọ

Như nước Việt ta từ trước,

vốn xưng văn hiến đã lâụ

Sơn hà cương vực đã chia,

phong tục Bắc Nam cũng khác.

Từ Đinh, Lê, Lý, Trần gây nền độc lập;

cùng Hán, Đường, Tống, Nguyên, hùng cứ mỗi phương.

Dẫu cường nhược có lúc khác nhau song hào kiệt đời nào cũng có.

Vậy nên:

Lưu Cung ^[1] sợ uy mất viá,

Triệu Tiết ^[2] nghe tiếng giật mình,

cửa Hàm Tử giết tươi Toa Đô, ^[3]

sông Bạch Đằng bắt sống Ô Mã . ^[4]

Xét xem cổ tích đã có minh trưng. ^[5]

Vưà rồi:

Vì họ Hồ ^[6] chính sự phiền hà,

để trong nước nhân dân oán bạn.

Quân cuồng Minh đã thừa cơ tứ ngược, ^[7]

bọn gian tà còn bán nước cầu vinh.

Nướng dân đen trên ngọn lửa hung tàn,

vùi con đỏ xuống dưới hầm tai vạ .

Chước dối đủ muôn nghìn khoé ,

ác chứa ngót hai mươi năm.

Bại nhân nghiã nát cả càn khôn,

nặng khoá liễm ^[8] vét không sơn trạch.

Nào lên rừng đào mỏ, nào xuống bể mò châu;

nào hố bẫy hươu đen, nào lưới dò chim chả.

Tàn hại cả côn trùng thảo mộc,

nheo nhóc thay ! quan quả diên liên. ^[9]

Kẻ há miệng, đứa nhe răng, máu mỡ bấy no nê chưa chán.

Nay xây nhà, mai đắp dất, chân tay nào phục dịch cho vưà.

Nặng nề về những nỗi phu phen,

bắt bớ mất cả nghề canh cửi .

Độc ác thay ! trúc rừng không ghi hết tội; ^[10]

dơ bẩn thay ! nước bể không rửa sạch mùi

Lẽ nào trời đất tha cho; ai bảo thần nhân nhịn được.

Ta đây:

Lam Sơn dấy nghiã; chốn hoang dã nương mình .

Ngắm non sông căm nỗi thế thù;

thề sống chết cùng quân nghịch tặc.

Đau lòng nhức óc, chốc là mười mấy năm nắng mưa;

nếm mật nằm gai, há phải một hao sớm tốị

Quên ăn vì giận, sách lược thao suy xét đã tinh;

ngẫm trước đến nay, lẽ hưng phế đắn đo càng kỹ.

Những trằn trọc trong cơn mộng mị,

chỉ băn khoăn một nỗi đồ hồi

Vừa khi cờ nghiã dấy lên, chính lúc quân thù đang mạnh.

Lại ngặt vì:

Tuấn kiệt như sao buổi sớm, nhân tài như lá mùa thu.

Việc bôn tẩu thiếu kẻ đỡ đần;

nơi duy ác hiếm người bàn bạc .

Đôi phen vùng vẫy , vẫn đăm đăm con mắt dục đông;^[11]

mấy thuở đợi chờ,luống đằng đă~ng cỗ xe hư tả.^[12]

Thế mà trông người, người càng vắng ngắt,

vẫn mịt mù như kẻ vọng dương ;

thế mà tự ta , ta phải lo toan,

thêm vội vã như khi chửng nịch. ^[13]

Phần thì giận hung đồ ngang dọc,

phần thì lo quốc bộ khó khăn .

Khi Linh Sơn lương hết mấy tuần;

khi Khôi huyện ^[14] quân không một lữ .

Có lẽ trời muốn trao cho gánh nặng ,

bắt trải qua bách chiết thiên ma,

cho nên ta cố gắng gan bền ,

chấp hết cả nhất sinh thập tử . ^[15]

Muá đầu gậy , ngọn cờ phất phới ,

ngóng vân nghê bốn cõi đan hồ;

mở tiệc quân , chén rượu ngọt ngào ,

khắp tướng sĩ một lòng phụ tử .

Thế giặc mạnh , ta yếu mà ta địch nổi ;

quân giặc nhiều ta ít mà ta được luôn .

Dọn hay :

Đem đại nghiã để thắng hung tàn ;

Lấy chí nhân mà thay cường bạo .

Trận BồĐằng sấm vang sét dậy ,

miền Trà Lân trúc phá tro bay .

Sĩ khí đã hăng , quân thanh càng mạnh .

Trần Trí, Sơn Thọ mất viá chạy tan ;

Phương Chính, Lý An tìm đường trốn tránh .

Đánh Tây kinh, phá tan thế giặc ;

lấy Đông Đô thu lại cõi xưa .

Dưới Ninh Kiều máu chảy thành sông ,

bến Tụy Động xác đầy ngoài nội .

Trần Hiệp đã thiệt mạng ; Lý Lương lại phơi thây ,

Vương Thông hết cấp lo lường ;

Mã Anh khôn đường cứu đỡ .

Nó đã trí cùng lực kiệt , bó tay không biết tính sao ;

ta đây mưu phạt tâm công , ^[16]

chẳng đánh mà người chịu khuất .

Tưởng nó phải thay lòng đổi d.a , hiểu lẽ tới lui ;

ngờ đâu còn kiếm kế tìm phương , gây mầm tội nghiệt.

Cậy mình là phải , chỉ quen đổ vạ cho người;

tham công một thời , chẳng bõ bày trò dở duốc .

Đến nỗi đứa trẻ ranh như Tuyên Dức ^[17],

nhằm võ không thôi ;

lại sai đồ nhút nhát như Thạnh , Thăng ,

đem dầu chữa cháỵ

Năm Dinh Mùi tháng chín, Liễu Thăng tự Khâu Ôn tiến sang ;

lại đến tháng mười, Mộc Thạnh tự Vân Nam kéo đến.

Ta đã điều binh thủ hiểm , để ngăn lối Bắc quân;

ta lại sai tướng chẹn ngang,

để tuyệt đường lương đạọ

Mười tám , Liễu Thăng thua ở Chi Lăng,

hai mươi Liễu Thăng chết ở Mã Yên.

Hai mươi nhăm, Lương Minh trận vong,

hai mươi tám, Lý Khánh tự vẫn.

Lưỡi dao ta đương sắc; ngọn giáo giặc phải lùi

Lại thêm quân bốn mặt vây thành;

hẹn đến rằm tháng mười diệt tặc.

Sĩ tốt ra oai tì hổ;

thần thứ đủ mặt trảo nhạ

Gươm mài đá , đá núi cũng mòn ;

Voi uống nước , nước sông phải cạb .

Đánh một trận sạch không kình ngạc;

đánh hai trận tan tác chim muông.

Cơn gió to trút sạch lá khô ;

tổ kiến hổng sụt toan đê cũ .

Thôi Tụ phải quỳ mà xin lỗi ;

Hoàng Phúc tự trói để ra hàng .

Lạng Giang, Lạng Sơn , thây chất đầy đồng ;

Xương Giang, Bình Than, máu trôi đỏ nước .

Ghê gớm thay ! Sắphong vân cũng đổi ;

Thảm đạm thay ! sáng nhật nguyệt phải mờ .

Binh Vân Nam ghẽn ở Le Hoa, sợ mà mất mặt;

quân Mộc Thạnh tan chưng Cầu Trạm, chạy để thoát thân.

Suối máu Lãnh Câu, nước sông rên rĩ;

thành xương Đan Xá, cỏ nội đầm đià.

Hai mặt cứu binh cắm đầu trốn chạy;

các thành cùng khấu, cỏi giáp xuông đầụ

Bắt tướng giặc mang về, nó đã vẫy đuôi phục tội;

thể lòng trời bất sát, ta cũng mở đường hiếu sinh.

Mã Kỳ, Phương Chính, cấp cho dăm trăm chiếc thuyền,

ra đến bể không thôi trống ngực.

Vương Thông, Mã Anh, phát cho vài nghìn cỗ ngưạ ,

về đến Tầu còn đổ bồ hôị

Nó đã sợ chết cầu hoà , ngỏ lòng thủ phục ;

ta muốn toàn quân là cốt, cả nước nghỉ ngơi . ^[18]

Thế mới là mưu kế thật khôn,

vả lại suốt xưa nay chưa có .

Giang san từ đây mở mặt, xã tắc từ đây vững nền.

Nhật nguyệt hối mà lại minh; ^[19]

Kiền khôn bỉ rồi lại tháị

Nền vạn thế xây nên chắc chắn,

thẹn ngnhìn thu rửa sạch lầu lầu .

Thế là nhờ trời đất tổ tông khôn thiêng che chở,

Giúp đỡ cho nước ta vậy

Than ôi!

Vẫy vùng một mảng nhung y, nên công đại định;

Phẳng lặng bốn bề thái vũ, mở hội vĩnh thanh.

Bá cáo xa gần; ngỏ cùng nghe biết ./.

(Dương quảng Hàm, VN Văn Học Sử Yếu, trang 273-276)

 

Chú giải:

(1) Lưu Cung: Vua Nam Hán sai Thái tử Hoàng Thao sang đánh bị Ngô Quyền phá tan tại trận Bạch Đằng năm 938. Hoàng Thao bị tử trận, Lưu Cung không giám vượt biên giới, bèn rút đại quân về nước.

(2) Vua Tống sai Quách Quỳ và Triệu Tiết đem quân sang đánh nước ta bị Lý thường Kiệt đánh bại tại Như Nguyệt (1076).

(3) Quân nhà Trần giết Toa Đô nơi trận Hàm Tử (1285)

(4) Ô mã Nhi bị bắt sống tại sông Bặch Đằng (1287) khi quân Nguyên xâm chiếm Đại Việt lần thứ bạ

(5) có minh trưng : có bằng chứng rõ rệt.

(6) Hồ Quý Ly soán ngôi NhàTrần lập Nhà Hồ (1400-1407) Lấy cớ phục Trần, quân Minh thôn tính Đại Việt.

(7) tứ ngược+: hết sức bạo ngược

(8) khóa liễm: thuế má

(9) quan= người goá vợ ; quả 3D người mất chồng; điên liên : người không nhà, không nơi nương tưạ

(10) trúc rừng: không đủ trúc để chẻ thanh đặng chép sử ( thanh sử 3D sử xanh)

(11) dục đông: tiến về hướng đông, Đông Độ

(12) cỗ xe trống chỗ bên trái, ý cầu hiền

(13) chửng nic.ch: vớt kẻ chết đuối

(14) Khôi huyện: nơi Lê Lợi bị quân Minh bao vây (1422)

(15) mười phần chết một phần sống

(16) tâm công : đánh vào lòng người, dùng tư tưởng, lòng nhân để thu phục kẻ thù .

(17) Vua nhà Minh

(18) Doạn này kể tên những bại tướng nhà Minh và những trận thắng của quân Đại Việt.

(19) mặt trời, mặt trăng mờ rồi lại tỏ

Philosophy: A Very Short Introduction – Edward Craig (from p. 35)

Page 1, 2, 3, 4

Chapter 4

 

What am I?

 

An unknown Buddhist on the self:

King Milinda’s chariot

 

It is generally true of Indian philosophy that we do not know much about the people who wrote it. If we know their names, the region in which they lived, and their dates within fifty years, that counts as scholarly success. But in the case of the Milindapañha, the Questions of King Milinda, no such ‘success’ has been achieved – we really know next to nothing. Here a Buddhist monk, Nagasena, debates with a regional king and answers his questions. Nagasena is probably a real figure, grown legendary; King Milinda is generally thought to be Menander, one of the Greek rulers in north-west India left over from the conquests of Alexander the Great. Even that is speculative – so let us just go straight to the text.

Only a few lines into it a shock awaits us. Plato’s Crito, we saw, is built of elements nearly all of which most readers will have found quite familiar. Hume’s argument in Of Miracles aimed to start from everyday commonsense observations about testimony plus an unsurprising definition of a miracle, and then arrive at a remarkable conclusion by showing that it is an inevitable consequence. But sometimes authors will adopt different tactics, pitching us straight in at the deep end with an assertion which seems frankly preposterous. We should learn to ride out the shock and read on, seeking to discover what the preposterous assertion really amounts to (it may be what it seems, or it may just be an unusual way of saying something rather less startling), and why they made it. Notice

35

that ‘why they made it’ means two things, both important: their reasons for thinking it true – and their motives for being interested in it, what they are aiming at. All of these points are highly relevant to the passage we are about to look at.

First, the shock. The party gathers; the king asks Nagasena’s name, Nagasena tells him: ‘Sire, I am known as Nagasena’ – but then adds that this word ‘Nagasena’ is only ‘a mere name, because there is no person as such that is found’. What can he possibly mean? One would have thought that Nagasena was a person, and he has just told Milinda his name; but immediately it turns out that the name is not the name of a person. So Nagasena isn’t a person after all, and this even though he has just told the king how he is known and how his fellow monks address him. What is going on here?

The king, who is evidently experienced in this kind of discussion (and also has considerable prior knowledge of Buddhism), doesn’t despair but sets out to get to the bottom of it. Realizing that Nagasena wasn’t just speaking of himself, but intended the point he was making (whatever it may have been) to apply equally to everyone, he starts drawing what he takes to be absurd consequences from the monk’s view. If it is true, then nobody ever does anything, right or wrong, nobody ever achieves anything, suffers anything. There is no such thing as a murder, for there is no person who dies. And then a little joke about Nagasena’s status: there was no one who taught him, and no one who ordained him. The tactic is common in debates of all kinds: here are a number of things which we all unhesitatingly take to be true; is Nagasena really saying that they are all false? Or is he going to tell us that his view, if properly understood, doesn’t have that consequence? Nagasena never takes that challenge up directly. By the end of the chapter he has given a hint, from which we can reconstruct what he might have said had he done so. But for the moment the king continues, falling into question-and-answer style reminiscent of many of Plato’s dialogues.

36

Milinda’s questioning in this passage is structured by the Buddhist doctrine of the ‘five aggregates’, according to which what we call a human being is a complex of five elements. Milinda calls them material form, feeling (by which they seem to have understood pleasure, pain, and indifference), perception, mental formations (i.e. our dispositions, our character), and consciousness. Exactly what these are we need not bother about, so long as we have some rough idea: the point is that the person is not to be identified with any of them.

That is probably what most of us would say, on a little reflection. Are we our feelings? No, we are what has the feelings, not the feelings themselves. Are we our perceptions? No, for the same reason. Are we our dispositions, our character? Well again, no – because dispositions, characters are tendencies to behave in certain ways; and we aren’t the tendencies but rather what has those tendencies. Likewise, we aren’t the consciousness; we are whatever it is that is conscious. The fifth item (the one that Milinda actually put first) might be more contentious, however. Mightn’t the material element, i.e. the body, be the thing that is conscious, has the dispositions, the perceptions, the feelings? When
asked, in effect, whether the body is Nagasena, why is Nagasena so quick to say that it isn’t?

When someone presents a point as if it were pretty obvious when it doesn’t seem obvious to you at all, it is good tactics to look for something unspoken lying behind it. Perhaps they are assuming that a self, a person, must be something rather pure and lofty – notice the studiously repulsive description of the body with which the king prefaces his question. Or that a self must be a permanent, unchanging thing, quite unlike a body, perhaps even capable of surviving death. Either of those assumptions might have come from earlier philosophical/religious conceptions – back to that in a moment. Or maybe from some such thought as this: matter doesn’t move itself (just leave a lump of it lying around and see how much it moves), whereas an

37

animal does – so there must be something non-material in it moving its matter. Or: even if matter does move it doesn’t make coherent, directed, intelligent movements – so a body needs something to direct it.

These thoughts were commonplace long before Questions of King Milinda was written. Remember the importance Socrates attaches to the well-being of his soul in Crito; or go on to read Plato’s Phaedo – the follow-up to Crito, about Socrates’ very last discussion and death. ‘Hold it a moment’, you will say, ‘that’s Greece, whereas this is India’. True, but very similar ideas are found (even earlier) in the Brahminical writings sacred to Hinduism. Admittedly, Buddhism quite consciously broke away from the Brahminical tradition. But the main points of contention were animal sacrifice and the caste system (which Buddhism abandoned along with all extreme forms of asceticism), so that a great deal of that tradition remained and formed the background to Buddhism as well. The idea of cyclical rebirth to further lives of suffering, and the hope of escape from the cycle into a state of liberation (the Buddhist nirvana and the Hindu moksha), are equally part of both.

Knowing these things may help us a little in understanding the prompt ‘No, sire’ with which Nagasena answers this sequence of questions. But it doesn’t help as much as we might wish, because it gives no hint as to why he should make the same response to the king’s last question, whether then Nagasena is something else, something different from the five ‘aggregates’. If anything, it might lead us to expect that he would say that Yes, it was something different, something that could leave the body and later inhabit another, that could be having certain feelings and perceptions now, and could have quite different ones in the future. But again he says ‘No sire’ – it is not something else. So the puzzle remains.

And Milinda’s next remark is puzzling too: he accuses the monk of having spoken a falsehood, for apparently ‘there is no Nagasena’. But Nagasena never said there was – quite the contrary, it was his

38

perplexing remark that there wasn’t a person ‘Nagasena’ which set the discussion going.

You do meet traffic jams like this sometimes, and it would be a poor guide who tried to cover it up. We need some creative reading at this stage. For instance: are we to think of the king as just getting confused, and losing track of what has been said? Or is it that he simply can’t believe that there is no such person, and therefore thought that Nagasena was bound to answer ‘Yes’ to at least one of his questions; since he answered ‘No’ to all of them, at least one answer must have been false, and that is the falsehood the king means when he says ‘You, revered sir, . . . have spoken a falsehood’? Of those two (perhaps you can think of another?) I prefer the second. It fits better with the feeling one gets from the chapter as a whole that the king is supposed to have a mistaken view of the nature of the self about which Nagasena puts him right.

He does so (after briefly teasing Milinda about his pampered lifestyle) by asking a parallel series of questions about the king’s chariot. This tradition makes constant use of similes, parallels, and analogies; listeners are brought to feel comfortable with something they find problematic by coming to see it as similar to, or of the same kind as, something else with which they are already familiar. Here the hope is that once the king has answered ‘No’ to all the questions about the chariot, he will see how Nagasena could return the same answer to all his questions about the person.

And he does come to see it, by the end of the chapter. But first let me mention something which no study of this text by itself could reveal, but which would surely have had an effect on anyone of Milinda’s obvious learning and intelligence. In using a chariot as a parallel to a person, Nagasena is doing something both strongly reminiscent of, and at the same time shockingly at odds with, a metaphor well-known within their common philosophical culture.

39

6. and 7. The image of the chariot. In a famous scene from the huge Indian
epic, the Mahabharata, the warrior Arjuna has Krishna as his charioteer –
and as his moral guide, not just his chauffeur! In the Greek example the
hero Hercules takes the reins, watched over by the goddess Athena.

Plato famously compared the self to a chariot. A good deal earlier, in the Indian tradition, the Katha Upanishad does the same (see Bibliography). Is it now Nagasena’s turn? Well, not exactly. It is as if the author were alluding to the tradition precisely to highlight his rejection of it. In Plato we read of a charioteer trying to control one obedient horse (reason) and one disobedient horse (the appetites); the Katha Upanishad compares the self to someone riding in a chariot, the intellect to the charioteer directing the senses, which are the horses. Nagasena doesn’t mention any horses. More importantly, he doesn’t mention a charioteer, let alone a rider distinct from the charioteer. That is the very picture he is reacting against. There is no permanent presence, the self, directing or overseeing. This author, in using the hallowed simile of the chariot but using it differently, is simultaneously putting his own view and signalling, to his cultural circle, just what he is rejecting.

So now the monk, following exactly the same pattern, questions the king: ‘Is the axle the chariot? – are the wheels the chariot? . . .’. Milinda repeatedly answers ‘No’. That isn’t surprising – but much as Nagasena’s answers to his questions were fairly unsurprising except for the last, so one of Milinda’s answers will raise nearly every reader’s eyebrows. This
time, however, it isn’t the last but the next to last. Nagasena asks whether then the chariot is ‘the pole, the axle, the wheels, . . . the reins and the goad all together’. Most of us would say ‘Yes; so long as we are not talking about these parts lying around in a heap but rather in the proper arrangement, that’s exactly what a chariot is.’ But Milinda just says ‘No, revered sir’.

We shall shortly find out what lies behind this rather odd response. For the moment let us just notice that the king, having answered ‘No’ to all the questions, has put himself in the same position as had Nagasena, who immediately throws Milinda’s own earlier words back at him: ‘Where then is the chariot you say you came in? You sire, have spoken a falsehood . . .’ – and gets a round of applause even from Milinda’s supporters. But the king is not for caving in. That

41

was no falsehood, he says, for ‘it is because of the pole, the axle . . . and the goad that “chariot” exists as a mere designation’. Just so, replies Nagasena, and ‘Nagasena’ exists as a mere designation too, because the five ‘aggregates’ are present. And he quotes the nun Vajira:

Just as when the parts are rightly set
The word ‘chariot’ is spoken,
So when there are the aggregates
It is the convention to say ‘a being’.

The king is impressed, and the chapter ends happily. But just what (you may well ask) have he and Nagasena agreed on? That ‘chariot’, ‘self’, ‘person’, ‘being’, and ‘Nagasena’ are conventional terms? But aren’t all words conventional – in England ‘cow’, in France ‘vache’, in Poland ‘krowa’, whatever local convention dictates? Surely they are telling us more than that?

Indeed they are. This is not about the conventionality of language; it is about wholes and their parts, and the point is that wholes are in a sense less real, less objective, and more a matter of convention, than are the parts that compose them. To begin with, the parts are independent in a way that the whole is not: the axle can exist without the chariot existing, but not the chariot without the axle. (As the German philosopher Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz (1646–1716) said much later, wholes have only a ‘borrowed’ reality – borrowed from the reality of their parts.) Furthermore, what counts as a whole is not given by nature, but depends to some extent on us and our purposes. If from a chariot we remove the pole and one of the wheels, the collection of parts that remains is not incomplete in itself, but only with regard to what we want chariots for.

But why does all this matter? Why did Nagasena provoke this conversation in the first place? Not just to pass the time, we may be

42

sure. The point is important to him because he holds that what we believe has an effect on our attitudes and through them on our behaviour. That, surely, is perfectly reasonable: those, for instance, who believe that the word ‘God’ stands for something real might be expected to feel and perhaps also behave differently from those who think it is just a socially constructed way of speaking. To use the jargon: our metaphysics (what we think reality is fundamentally like) can affect our ethics. Now on the Buddhist view the purpose of philosophy (indeed the purpose of Buddhism) is to alleviate suffering; there is no point in it if it doesn’t. And a major cause of suffering is overestimation of the importance of the self, its needs, and its goals: ‘clinging to self’, as Buddhists say. So any change of belief which downgrades the status of the self in our eyes is helpful. A Tibetan text says: ‘Believing the ego to be permanent and separate, one becomes attached to it; . . . this brings on defilements; the defilements breed bad karma; the bad karma breeds miseries . . .’. That is why it matters.

Can Nagasena be said to have proved his case in this chapter? Has he really shown that there is no abiding self, just an unstable composite which it is convenient to call a person? Surely not. Even if we accept everything which he and Milinda say about the chariot, it would still have to be argued that the chariot analogy is reliable when it comes to thinking about a person, yet on that point Nagasena says nothing at all. So like most analogies, this one is useful as an illustration or explanation of what the doctrine about the self means, but not as evidence that it is true. Nor do we learn why he gave the crucial answer (‘No, sire’) to the king’s final and crucial question, the one to which a supporter of the permanent self would have said Yes: ‘is Nagasena apart [distinct] from material form, feeling, perception, mental formations and consciousness?’

So our provisional verdict must be ‘unproven’. But we might ask ourselves whether this question (‘Has Nagasena proved his case?’) is the

43

right question to be asking. Perhaps it is, if we are trying to make up our minds about the nature of the self; but if we are trying to understand what is going on in the chapter we have been reading, perhaps not. Remember that this is a branch of the tradition that gave us the guru, the authoritative spiritual teacher. In Nagasena’s eyes the authority for what he was saying would ultimately be the word of the Buddha; his own business is to convey the right doctrine in lively and memorable terms. The demand for compelling logic is best reserved for a writer like Hume, to whom it is appropriate because he is genuinely trying to meet it.

Some readers may feel a nagging worry. Buddhists, just as much as Hindus, believe in rebirth – the present Dalai Lama is his predecessor, reborn. But if there is no self beyond the five ‘aggregates’, what is there to be reborn, what is it that migrates from one body to the next? How did they reconcile these two doctrines? All I can say here is that they were fully aware of the problem. It leads to a lot more Buddhist metaphysics, which our all too brief tour can’t even make a start on. But if you have in your hand the edition of Questions of King Milinda recommended in the Bibliography, turn to pp. 58–9 and read the section entitled ‘Transmigration and Rebirth’ – just to begin to get the flavour.

44

Chapter 5

 

Some themes

 

The three examples we have been looking at touch on a number of general themes, ideas whose significance goes well beyond that of any single text or for that matter any single school or period. Now I shall pick half a dozen of them out for special attention. To what extent a question can legitimately be considered in abstraction from the particular historical contexts in which it was raised and (perhaps) answered is itself a philosophical question, and no simple one; I shall say something about it in the closing section of the chapter.

Ethical consequentialism

Don’t be frightened by the heading. It is just the trade name of the doctrine that how good or bad something is has to be judged by looking at its consequences. In Crito, as we saw, Socrates was weighing the consequences of the actions open to him, the results for his friends, his children, himself. But there were also considerations about what had happened in the past, not what would result in the future: his past behaviour meant that he now had a duty to the State, which required him to accept its judgement and punishment. I suggested at the end of that chapter that if philosophers were going to solve our moral problems they were first going to have to convince us that moral matters are really less complicated than they appear to be. One such attempt is consequentialism: no moral reasons are

45

backward-looking; proper moral reasons all look to the consequences of our actions.

So the idea is that something is good if it has good consequences, bad if it has bad ones. But, you will immediately notice, that doesn’t tell us much; we still need to be told which consequences are good ones, which are bad ones. Just repeating the formula (saying: consequences are good when they themselves have good consequences) gets us no further. A consequentialist must be willing to recommend certain things, or states of affairs, as being good in themselves. In their case, goodness does not consist in having good consequences – they just are good. Other things are good only to the extent that they lead to them – the things that are good in themselves.

That means that consequentialism isn’t any single ethical doctrine, but a general type of doctrine which can take very different specific forms depending on what is held to be good in itself. If you think that the only thing good in itself is pleasure you will live very differently from someone who thinks that the only thing good in itself is knowledge. So even if we could all agree to be consequentialist in our ethical thinking, very little would have been settled.

You might now wonder why we should be so exclusive: why can’t lots of different things be good in themselves: pleasure, knowledge, beauty, love – just for starters? That sounds very reasonable. But if what we were hoping for was a moral theory that would make it fairly simple for us to decide what we ought to do, then it is a big step in the wrong direction. Once we agree to take more than one basic value into account we will inevitably find that our values sometimes come into conflict. I might quite often be in a position to promote one value (i.e. do things which have that sort of consequence) or another, but not both. Which should I choose? If Socrates had had to choose to between risking his friends’ lives and damaging his children’s education, which should he have chosen? How lucky for him that he didn’t! What an

46

advantage if we could settle on just one basic value, and measure everything else by the extent to which it leads to that one thing.

No surprise, then, that there have been ethical theories of just that kind. An early one, well worth reading about, is that of Epicurus (341–271 bc). For him and his followers, the one and only thing valuable in itself was pleasure. But don’t expect him to recommend orgies and banquets interspersed with periods of relaxation on the beach of your private island. Because what Epicurus meant by pleasure was not that at all: it was absence of pain, both physical and mental. This completely untroubled state, he thought, was as great a pleasure as any. What we immediately think of as pleasures are just different, not more pleasant. This point, and his advice on how to achieve and maintain the ideal state, he appears to have argued for with subtlety and wisdom. I say ‘appears’, because we have very little from his own hand; although he wrote prolifically, our knowledge of him mostly comes from later reports.

8. Marble head of Epicurus, in the British Museum.

47

A modern and more accessible theory of this type was propounded by John Stuart Mill (1806–73) in his famous essay Utilitarianism, where he cited Epicurus as one of his philosophical ancestors. Mill declared the one thing valuable in itself to be happiness – defining it as ‘pleasure and the absence of pain’ (though without holding, as Epicurus had, that the absence of all pain was itself the greatest pleasure). But there is a very significant difference between Mill and Epicurus. For whereas Epicurus seems to have been concerned to advise individuals how best to secure their own pleasure/tranquillity, Mill was a social reformer whose ethical principles aimed at the improvement of life (i.e. happiness) for everybody. (A similar division is found in the history of Buddhism: is the highest ideal the personal attainment of nirvana, or is it to bring all beings to nirvana, oneself included?) ‘Let everyone seek to be free from pain and anxiety’, says Epicureanism; though it may well add: ‘Helping those around you to do so will probably help you achieve it too – and if so, help them.’ For Mill, by contrast, the primary goal is, quite generally, happiness; so anyone else’s happiness is just as much your goal as is your own, and any person’s happiness is of equal value with anyone else’s.

Mill’s aspirations went beyond his own society – he even writes of improving the condition of the whole of mankind. This was Victorian Britain, and the British Empire pretty much at its zenith (Mill himself worked for the East India Company for over thirty years). But it would be unfair to think of him as an interfering moral imperialist. He didn’t want to tell anyone how to be happy; only that everyone should be provided with the material goods, the education and the political and social liberties to work out their own happiness in their own way. Many will find this universality of Mill’s basic ethical principle admirable. Some may also wonder whether it can be realistic to ask human beings to spread their moral concern so widely and so impartially. Are we capable of it? And what would life be like if we really tried? These questions, especially the second, have led some philosophers to

48

think that Mill’s doctrine conflicts with another value which nearly all of us regard as very important to us. We have already seen it at work in the Crito.

Integrity

One thing that weighed with Socrates, you remember, was the line he had taken at his trial. How could he now choose exile, having explicitly rejected that option when given the opportunity to propose an alternative to the death-sentence? ‘I cannot, now that this fate has befallen me, throw away my previous arguments.’ As a soldier, he told the court, he had faced death rather than do what was wrong; he will not now do what seems to him to be wrong just to prolong his life.

These thoughts capture a central aspect of the virtue of integrity. Integrity means wholeness, unity; the idea of integrity as a value is the idea of a life lived as a whole rather than as a series of disconnected episodes. So it includes steadfast adherence to principles, and to opinions unless new reasons or evidence appear. Relatedly (and equally applicable to Socrates’ case) it includes the value of consistent pursuit of those chosen projects which give purpose and meaning to one’s life. And it can also be taken to exclude self-deception and hypocrisy, states in which people are in one way or another at odds with themselves.

So how comfortably does the ideal of integrity fit with Mill’s utilitarianism? Not very comfortably at all, some think. For however sincere your commitment to some principle in the past, that fact by itself does not give you – if we take Mill’s position seriously and literally – any reason to follow it again now. If in the past your commitment to that principle has consistently led to good effects (measured in terms of happiness), then that fact gives you at least some  reason to think that it will do so again – which is a reason to follow it now. But your commitment to it, however sincere, however much it has

49

become a part of your personality, is not. Critics of Utilitarianism question whether we can really live with that way of thinking. You might like to consider whether Utilitarians can defend themselves against that charge. If they can’t, things look bad not just for them but for most other types of consequentialist too. For in the last paragraph it wasn’t important to think of effects being assessed in terms of happiness; I might have written almost anything instead of ‘happiness’ without affecting the argument. So really this is an attack on consequentialism – of which utilitarianism is only one variety. Anyone who feels that the attack succeeds must accept that the consequences of an action are (at most) only one aspect of its value, and that deciding whether it was right or not may involve a subjective compromise between factors of completely different types.

Political authority – the contract theory

States make demands of their members which would be deeply objectionable if coming from a private person. Tax, for instance. Why is it permissible for the State to appropriate a certain proportion of my income when, if you were even to attempt it, you would be guilty of extortion or ‘demanding money with menaces’? Or is it just that the State gets away with it – by being easily the biggest menace around?

Now most political theorists hold that the State does have some legitimate authority, though there is less agreement about how much – in other words, about how far this authority can extend whilst remaining legitimate. Opinions range from totalitarian conceptions, which assign to the State power over all aspects of individuals’ lives, to minimalist conceptions, according to which it can do what is necessary to keep the peace and enforce any contracts its members may make with each other, and scarcely anything more. But except for the very few who jump off the bottom end of this scale (‘States have no legitimate

50

authority at all’), everyone faces the question how State authority over individuals arises.

An answer with a long history – we have already seen a version of it in Crito – is that it arises out of some kind of contract or agreement between individuals and the state of which they are citizens. It is a very natural answer. A person might agree to accept the authority of another (in a certain area of activity) because he saw substantial benefit (for himself) in doing so, and in return for that benefit. Most would accept that such an arrangement legitimates the other’s authority over him as far as their agreement reaches, provided that agreement was voluntary. Though natural, it is not the only answer worth considering. Another would be that the stronger has natural authority over the weaker, and this authority is legitimate so long as it is used for the weaker’s benefit. That might be a good way to think of parents’ authority over their infant children, for instance. But if we allow the weaker to be the judges of whether they are benefiting or not, then we are very close to saying that the power is legitimate only so long as they accept it. Whereupon we are back in the neighbourhood of a ‘tacit consent’ theory, like the one that the Laws and State of Athens appealed to against Socrates (p. 20 above). Unless we allow that superior force makes authority legitimate (‘might is right’), or that God has granted authority to certain persons or institutions (the ‘divine right of kings’), it isn’t easy to avoid the contract theory in some form or other.

There are several forms of it because of the wide variety of answers to the question ‘Who makes what contract with whom?’ Since we were speaking of every individual’s obligation to the State we might suppose that everyone must individually be a party to the contract (that would appear to be the drift of Socrates’ approach in Crito); but some theorists write as if it were enough that one’s ancestors, or the founders of one’s society, should have been party to it. And regardless of that question, is the contract made with the whole of society (so that you contract to go along with the decisions of the whole body, of which you are yourself a

51

member)? Or with some distinct sovereign person or persons to whom you then owe allegiance? You can see that the resulting difference in the constitution may be enormous: anywhere from social democracy to absolute monarchy.

And what is the contract? In what circumstances can the individual properly regard the contract as having lapsed? The famous contract theory of Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679), which we shall return to in Chapter 8, has it that the sole benefit that the contracting individual can rightfully demand is the preservation of their life: the sovereign puts up a stop to the murderous, thieving lawlessness of the pre-contractual situation, and organizes defence against attack from without. If that fails, all bets are off; otherwise, complete obedience.

Epicurus had something pertinent to say: ‘He who knew best how to meet the fear of external foes made into one family all the creatures he could.’ Even Hobbes granted families a certain natural exemption from the war of all against all. In troubled times families are the groups most likely to hold together, and are the best model for co-operation and allegiance. (Some readers may find that idea out of date – but perhaps that is so because, and in places where, times are easier.) In Plato’s prescription for an ideal state (The Republic) he in effect abolishes the family – no doubt he had seen much family-centred intrigue and corruption. A plurality of cohesive units within it must be dangerous to the power of the State and its capacity to preserve peace. If there is to be a family it is best that there should only be one – as Epicurus’ remark implies – and that the State (recall Crito 50eff.) be thought of as everyone’s parent.

Evidence and rationality

Rationality is what you’ve got if you have some capacity to reason: to work out, given certain truths, what else is likely to be true if they are; perhaps also (though you need rather more rationality for this) how

52

9. Beyond the family, anything goes. Hobbes’s state of nature?

likely. It is the quality of mind Hume was talking about when he said, in Of Miracles, that a wise man proportions his belief to the evidence. Forming the right beliefs, with the appropriate degree of confidence, isn’t the only manifestation of rationality however. A familiar situation is that in which you want to know whether a certain thing is true or not (‘Was it the butler who did it?’ ‘Have we any bread in the house?’), and here your rationality will show at least as much in what evidence you seek out, as in what you believe once you have got it. As well as powers of investigation, we also have a capacity for rational choice: given

53

certain desires, to choose a course of action likely to lead to their fulfilment. And our reason is sometimes, though controversially, assigned a further function: not just to tell us what we ought to do, given that we have certain goals, but in addition to tell us what goals we ought to have. There is an influential heavyweight on either side of this tricky question, with Kant affirming that reason does have such a power, Hume denying it. (To my mind Hume and his followers have slightly the better of it, though battle continues.) But here we stick with the issue of belief and evidence.

Why should we be interested in having evidence, or being able to offer  reasons, for our beliefs? Because it makes it more likely that they will be true; and it makes us more confident that they are true. Both are important. We want our beliefs to be true, because we use them to direct our actions, and actions directed by true beliefs are on the whole far more successful. (Compare the actions, and the success rate, of two people both wanting a beer: one believes – falsely – that the beer is in the fridge, the other believes – truly – that it is still in the car.) And it helps if we hold our true beliefs confidently, because then we go ahead and act on them, rather than dithering about.

Those are practical considerations, influencing all of us all the time. There may also be theoretical ones, having to do with our philosophical self-image: we (some of us, at certain periods of history) may like to think of ourselves as essentially rational beings in whose lives reason plays an absolutely central role. For a long time philosophers took rationality to be the crucial feature distinguishing humans from other animals. (You can see Hume contesting this view in Of the Reason of Animals, the section immediately before Of Miracles.) The idea that reason is absolutely central to human life is a rather vague one, so it isn’t the sort of view one could ever prove, or definitively refute, and it would be a bad misjudgement to try. Nevertheless many things can be said that are relevant to it.

54

The first was well-known to the sceptics of ancient Greece. Suppose you hold some belief (call it B), and you ask yourself what reason you have to hold it. So then you think of some reason (call it R). This R cannot be something you have just dreamt up. You must have a reason to think that it is true, if it is to give you a reason for believing B. This further reason can’t be B itself, or R again (that would be to give a belief as a reason for itself, which seems like nothing more than reasserting the belief, and is often called ‘begging the question’), so it must be something else – whereupon the same argument repeats. This suggests that the idea that we have reasons for our beliefs is just a local appearance, which disappears as soon as we try to look at the wider picture: ‘reasons’ turn out to be relative to certain other beliefs for which we have no reasons. The search for a satisfactory response to this argument has structured a whole area of philosophical inquiry known as epistemology or the theory of knowledge.

Add that some of our most basic beliefs, beliefs without which we just couldn’t get on with our lives, are very hard to find any decent reason for. A much discussed example is our confidence that things will continue much as they have in the past: your next breath of air won’t suffocate you, the floor won’t collapse when you take your next step – and hundreds of other things of that kind. With what reason do we believe them? Don’t answer: that sort of belief has nearly always worked. True, but that is just another example of what has happened in the past, and what we wanted to know was why we expect the future to go the same way.

So if the idea was that human belief can be made through and through rationally transparent, or that human life could run on reason alone, then it faces formidable obstacles. But it remains the case that human powers of reasoning, acquiring beliefs by inferring them from previous beliefs, are more than just important to us. Without them there would be nothing recognizably human left except the shape of our bodies, and the average chimp would run rings round us, literally and figuratively.

The self

Chapter 4 introduced the Buddhist ‘no-self’ doctrine, according to which a person is not a simple, independently enduring thing but a composite, and an easily dissoluble composite at that, of the five ‘aggregates’, which are themselves complex things or states. But that is not the only tradition in which we find the view that a self is really a whole lot of separate things precariously holding together. It appears in the modern West as the so-called ‘Bundle theory of the mind’, and is almost invariably attributed to Hume. (In your guide’s personal opinion it is very doubtful whether Hume actually held it, but I’ll skirt round that controversy here.)

So suppose there is some simple, independently enduring thing – you – which just continues the same so long as you exist. Where is it? Look into your own mind and see if you can perceive it. What do you find? In the first place, you notice that you are experiencing a motley of perceptions: visual perceptions of the way your surroundings look, auditory perceptions of the way they sound, perhaps also a few smells, tactual sensations of pressure, roughness, warmth, and suchlike, from touching nearby objects. Then sensations of tension in certain muscles, awareness of bodily movements. All these are continually changing as your position changes and surrounding objects themselves change. You might also feel a slight ache in your foot, or in your forehead; and be aware of a train of thought, perhaps as images or a silent sequence of half-formed sentences. But there is no sign, in this shifting kaleidoscopic complex, of that object ‘the self’, just steadfastly persisting.

Why then suppose that there is such a thing? Well, someone will say, it’s clear that all these experiences, my experiences, somehow belong together; and there are other experiences, those that are not mine but yours, which also belong together but don’t belong with this lot. So there must be one thing, me, my self, which is having all my experiences

56

but isn’t having any of yours, and another thing, your self, doing the reverse.

Supporters of the bundle theory reply that nothing of the kind follows. What makes all my experiences hang together doesn’t have to be a relation they all stand in to something else; it might be some system of relationships that they all stand in to each other (but don’t stand in to any of yours). Think of a lot of shreds of paper which form one group by virtue of all being pinned to the same pincushion (the model of the central self) – and a collection of iron filings which form one bunch because they are all magnetized and therefore cling together (the model of the bundle). You will have noticed the affinity between these thoughts (adapted from Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature, book 1, part 4, section 6 (1738) ) and those of the Buddhist author from our Chapter 4. But there are also differences, one of the most significant being the status they give to the body. The Buddhist didn’t hesitate to include the body (‘material form’) as one of the five aggregates that compose the person, whereas the eighteenth-century version doesn’t even bother to exclude it, but just ignores it completely. Hume writes first ‘self’, then ‘self or person’, then ‘mind’, as if these were obviously the same, so that ‘What is the self (or person)?’ and ‘What is the mind?’ are for him just two ways of asking one question. Such was the change of climate brought about by centuries of religious thought deeply influenced by Plato and Neoplatonism, with their emphasis on the soul and the spiritual andtheir denigration of the bodily. There is also another, huge, difference. When presented with a philosophical doctrine it is always a good idea to ask what happens next – that is to say, what its proponents want to do with it. The Buddhists, we saw, had an ethical purpose in mind. The ‘no-self’ theory would help us to live better, keep clear of ‘defilements’, avoid suffering more successfully. Hume’s next move was utterly different, having 57 nothing at all to do with ethics but quite a lot to do with what we now call cognitive science. If we do not perceive the enduring self, why then do we believe that we are the same person from day to day? And he proposed a psychological theory to account for it. (It was by today’s standards a pretty naïve one, but that is only to be expected.) We are not so much comparing two individuals as two epochs. Nagasena’s was the age of survival, Hume’s the age of science. Where there is such a difference in the plot, no wonder if a similar thought turns up playing a very different role. Which leads straight into our next topic.

Philosophy and historical context

Could Plato and Hobbes, 2,000 years apart, with their different backgrounds and circumstances, really have been discussing the same thing? Could a philosopher nowadays be asking the same questions about the self as Hume did, let alone the early Buddhists? Doesn’t the idea that we can talk about philosophical themes without reference to whose and when make them sound like timeless objects that thinkers of any epoch can plug into? That view would be quite the opposite of popular nowadays. All thought, we repeatedly hear, is ‘situated’ – tied to the particular historical, social, and cultural circumstances in which thinkers find themselves.

I certainly don’t wish to recommend the belief that there are eternal questions just hanging around waiting to be asked. But the view that no question or answer has any existence beyond the specific circumstances of whoever poses it is possibly even worse, and certainly no better. Part of the attraction of such extremes is that they are very simple, somewhat in the pantomime style of ‘Oh yes it is – Oh no it isn’t’. As so often, the truth lies in between, and is much more complicated. One can approach this topic in many ways, but I’ll choose this way: is it legitimate to treat the thought of someone long since dead as a

58

contribution to a present debate, as if it were being put to us, here and now? I think it is, and that there are even reasons why we should. But it needs to be done with care and – most importantly – with an eye to what we may be missing.

There is nothing to stop us lifting a sentence from an old text and seeing what it can do for us now. If we want to lift the thought, not just the sentence, we may have to put some work into deciding what the sentence meant. If we aren’t prepared to do that we shouldn’t expect too much of it, and we certainly shouldn’t disparage its author if we don’t get too much from it. But given that precaution we will often find it relevant to our concerns, because much philosophy arises from facts about human beings and human life which are pretty stable – at any rate they haven’t changed much over the last 3,000 years.

Finding something relevant is one thing, finding it convincing is another. Suppose we dismiss Plato’s and Hobbes’s arguments as insufficient to establish the extent of the authority they ascribe to the state. There is something right about this: no doubt their arguments are insufficient. But if we then turn away, taking our business with them to be finished, we risk making a number of mistakes. One is that though we may have understood what they have written we have not understood them – their concerns about what political thought needed, the circumstances that gave rise to these concerns and so made their conclusions attractive to them. So we may be missing the humanity behind the text, and with it an important aspect of what philosophy is for. Furthermore, whenever there is any uncertainty about what they meant, understanding why they were saying it is often a valuable means of resolving the ambiguity. In showing no interest in their motivation we take a risk with our understanding of their words.

A second point is that our appreciation of a philosopher’s achievement

59

will be seriously blunted if we do not see the intellectual and emotional circumstances out of which their work grew. I proposed earlier that we think of philosophy as bewildered mankind’s attempt to think our way back straight. That is not a story that can be appreciated without some understanding of the circumstances in which thinkers have found themselves.

So ‘Is this right?’ is certainly not the only question we should be thinking about. Still, there is something wrong with refusing altogether to ask whether our philosopher was right, or whether their arguments are convincing, merely because they lived long ago. After all, Plato did not take himself to be writing just for his own time and place. On the contrary, he is constantly trying to direct our attention away from the transient and towards what he believes to be permanent, and it seems deeply condescending (or possibly self-protective?) to dismiss his further ambitions without making any honest attempt to assess them. ‘There, there, designed his own ideal state, has he? – what a clever little fellow.’

I hope that you are now beginning to notice something rather encouraging. The literature of philosophy may be intimidatingly vast, but the number of genuinely distinct philosophical themes is not. It is somewhat too large for the compass of this very short book, admittedly, but it is not enormous. We have already seen links across 2,000 years between Epicurus and Mill, Plato and Hobbes, Hume and the author of Milinda. The problem lies not in becoming familiar with the recurrent themes, but in being sensitive to the variations as different thinkers play them again in their own way for their own purposes. And what this means is that one’s understanding of philosophy is cumulative, and accumulates rather quickly. Which must be good news.

60

Chapter 6

 

Of ‘isms’

 

From football to gardening and back via cookery, mountaineering, and population genetics, every subject has its own terminology. Philosophy certainly does, most of it fortunately not nearly as frightening as it looks. In Chapter 4 we saw ‘metaphysics’, meaning the study of (or opinions about) what reality is like in its most general features. In Chapter 5 we encountered ‘consequentialism’, the blanket word for theories that see the value of anything in its consequences rather than in its own nature and its history; then ‘epistemology’, the branch of philosophy concerned with knowledge, belief, and closely related notions like reasons and justification. Now let’s look at some more words, all of them ending in ‘ism’. This isn’t a matter of swotting up vocabulary – rather of finding out more about philosophy as you learn more of the jargon.

Most philosophical ‘ism’ words are (like ‘consequentialism’) quite broad terms designating a certain general type of doctrine. Their breadth makes them very flexible, and ensures that they are in constant use, but it also brings dangers, principally that of taking them to say more than they really do. Never think that you have got a philosopher sorted out just because you can say what ‘ism’ he represents. The philosophy of George Berkeley (1685–1752) is a form of Idealism, and so is that of Hegel (1770–1831); but I have never heard it suggested that having read either would be any help in understanding the other – their thought is

61

miles apart. Karl Marx (1818–83), on the other hand, certainly wasn’t an Idealist (which is actually a term of abuse in the Marxist vocabulary), but he is in many respects extremely Hegelian, and that a student should get to know something of Hegel before reading Marx seems the most obvious advice imaginable.

With that warning uttered and illustrated, let us begin with dualism. It can be used of any view which recognizes (exactly) two contrasting forces or entities, so that a theology which posits two basic powers in conflict, one good and one evil, is said to be dualistic. But by far its most common meaning is a doctrine according to which reality consists of two very different kinds of thing or stuff, namely mind and matter; a human being consists of a bit of each. Perhaps the most famous exponent of dualism in this sense is the Frenchman René Descartes (some of whose work we shall be looking at in the next chapter). In fact, some enemies of dualism, and there are plenty of them nowadays, seem to want to blame it all on him. (That is historically dubious, to say the least – Descartes was merely trying to give cogent proof of a doctrine that is very much older.)

Dualism certainly has its problems, especially if it is to be combined with modern scientific theory. One tricky question is: what does the dualist’s mental stuff actually do? We naturally suppose that what we think, what we feel, what we are aware of, affects our behaviour. If I think that the train leaves in ten minutes, want to catch it, and see a signpost saying ‘Railway Station’, I will go in the direction I believe the signpost points. This means that my (physical) body goes somewhere it wouldn’t otherwise have gone. But doesn’t scientific theory suggest that all physical events have other physical events as their causes? In which case how can there be room for something else, of a non-physical kind, to cause my body to move? Dualists may just have to grit their teeth and say that science is plain wrong about that. For if they agree that science is right on that point, and if they agree (and it would be weird not to) that what we think, feel, etc. affects what we do, then the consequence

62

is that thinking, feeling, awareness, and so on must be physical processes. In which case the question comes round again: what does this non-physical stuff of theirs, this ‘mind’, actually do? But dualists can’t just say that science is wrong about all physical events having physical causes. That won’t convince anyone who wasn’t convinced to start with. They will need some reason for saying that there is something about us which cannot be physical. When we come to Descartes we’ll see something of what a dualist might have to offer on that score.

So, you may be thinking, if dualism is the view that there are two ultimate sorts of stuff, mind and matter, probably we also find a doctrine that says there is only matter, and another that holds that there is nothing but mind. And you’re quite right. The first is called materialism, the second idealism (not mentalism), and both have plenty of history.

The earliest materialism of which we have clear record is that of the Indian Loka¯yatas, often known as Ca¯rva¯kas after one of their most eminent thinkers (incidentally, pronounce ‘c’ in these Sanskrit words as ‘ch’). Remember them if you find yourself slipping into the common error of imagining that all Indian philosophy is mystical, religious, and ascetic. Only perception confers knowledge, and what you can’t perceive doesn’t exist, they reckoned. The eternal soul that, as the Brahmins suppose, passes on from life to life, is a fiction. You have one life and one only – try to enjoy it. The movement appears to have survived for over a thousand years; unfortunately, just about all we now know of it comes from reports written by its opponents.

In Greece Democritus – a fairly close contemporary of Socrates – propounded a theory which, until twentieth-century physics changed the picture, sounded very modern: the universe consists of myriads of very small material particles moving in a vacuum or void. These little things are called ‘atoms’ (from the Greek for uncuttable or indivisible);

63

they and the void they move through are literally everything there is. This rather good guess was taken over by Epicurus (we’ve seen him already) and his school, but the easiest place to read about it is in a famous work by Lucretius, a Roman admirer of Epicurus, called ‘Of the Nature of Things’ (or ‘Of the Nature of the Universe’ – depending on which translation you have got hold of).

You might expect materialism to be completely incompatible with any sort of religious belief – as the case of the Loka¯yatas appears to confirm. But watch out for surprises! The Epicureans believed in gods, but then held (as consistency demanded) that they had bodies made of a very refined type of matter. (They live somewhere a very long way from here in a state of divine bliss and untroubled happiness – paying not a wink of attention to human life. Opponents said this was just a way of being atheists without admitting it.)

The word ‘materialism’ as it occurs in everyday usage is rather different. A ‘material girl’ isn’t a girl who consists of matter only – though if philosophical materialists are right that is all she consists of, and so does  the material world she lives in. But the everyday ‘materialism’ which some bemoan and others just enjoy isn’t wholly unrelated to the philosophers’ sort. Madonna’s material girl derives her pleasures mostly from material objects – their ownership and consumption – in preference to the pleasures of the mind. Everyday materialism is the attachment to what is – now in the philosophers’ sense – material, as opposed to what is spiritual or intellectual. The philosophy of Marx came to be called dialectical materialism, not so much because he held that there is literally nothing but matter as because he held that the most important underlying causes in human life are material: economic facts about the way in which a society produces its material goods. (What ‘dialectical’ meant we shall see in Chapter 7 when we encounter Hegel, below, p. 81 ff.)

Idealism is also a word with an everyday as well as a technical meaning.

64

At the technical end it is applied to views that deny the existence of matter and hold that everything there is is mental or spiritual, like that of the Irish bishop George Berkeley, whom we mentioned earlier. Someone who tells us that had better explain, in the next breath, what then are these things like chairs and mountains that we keep bumping into and falling off. When he heard it said that Berkeley could not be refuted, the celebrated man of letters Dr Johnson is reputed to have answered: ‘I refute him thus’, and kicked a stone. But refuting Berkeley isn’t that easy. (I use the word ‘refute’ to mean showing that something is wrong, not just saying that it is wrong – which of course is very easy indeed and can be done by anyone, especially someone like Dr Johnson, who was rarely short either of an opinion or of a memorable way of expressing it.)

Perhaps Berkeley can be refuted, but only if we can somehow overcome the following well-worn line of thought. What I am really aware of when I look at a table is not the table itself but how the table looks to me. ‘How it looks to me’ describes not the table, but my mind – it is the state of consciousness which the object, whatever it is, produces in me when I look at it. And this goes on being true however closely, or from however many angles, I look at the table; and it goes on being true if I touch the table – except that then the object (whatever it is) produces a different kind of state of consciousness in me, tactual sensations as opposed to visual. If I kick the table (or Dr Johnson’s stone) and it hurts, that is yet another state of my consciousness. Admittedly, these states of consciousness fit together very nicely; we quickly learn from a very few of them to predict quite accurately what the rest are going to be like – one glance, and we know pretty much what to expect. But the table itself, the physical table, isn’t so much an established fact as a hypothesis that explains all these states of perceptual consciousness. So it might be wrong – some other hypothesis might be the truth. Berkeley himself thought precisely that, though partly because he believed he had proved that the very idea of a non-mental existent was incoherent. (I’m not going

65

to trouble you with his supposed proof here.) Believing as he did in a benevolent and all-powerful god, he made His will the direct cause of our states of consciousness and declared matter redundant – as well as incoherent.

Hume – again – made a nice comment. Berkeley’s arguments, he said ‘admit of no answer and produce no conviction’. However impossible we may find it to believe Berkeley’s denial of matter, a convincing proof that he just couldn’t be right has been extremely elusive. I myself don’t believe that there is one – though neither, you won’t be surprised to hear, do I believe Berkeley. Some philosophical systems (like Hegel’s) qualify as idealism not because they deny the very existence of matter but because they regard it as subordinate to the mental or spiritual, which is what really determines the nature of reality and gives it purpose. This use of ‘idealism’ parallels the use of ‘materialism’ we noticed above, in its application to the philosophy of Karl Marx. But when we come to the everyday notion of idealism the parallel with ‘materialism’ fails. A materialist’s attention is fixed on material goods as opposed to mental, spiritual, or intellectual ones; whereas an idealist is not someone always focused on the latter rather than the former, but someone committed to ideals. And ideals are essentially things of the mind, because they are the thoughts of circumstances not in fact found in reality, but which we can strive to approach as nearly as the conditions of life permit. The mental nature of ideals makes the connection between the everyday usage of the word and the technical one.

Two more ‘isms’ of which one hears a lot, and which tend to occur together as a pair of supposed opposites, are ‘empiricism’ and ‘rationalism’. Whereas ‘dualism’, ‘materialism’, and ‘idealism’ belong to metaphysics (what sorts of thing are there?), this pair belongs squarely to epistemology (how do we know?).

66

Page 1, 2, 3, 4

Philosophy: A Very Short Introduction – Edward Craig (from p. 91)

Page 1, 2, 3, 4

This kind of thought soon turned into a movement known as Social Darwinism. The name is inappropriate to the point of being slanderous.Darwin never drew such conclusions, nor would he have done, for nosuch thing follows. In his system the words ‘the fittest’ simply mean:those best fitted to survive (and reproduce) under the conditions thenobtaining. They have nothing to do with moral, or intellectual, oraesthetic superiority; and they mean nothing at all without the rider‘under the conditions then obtaining’. If those conditions change,yesterday’s ‘fittest’ may be tomorrow’s no-hopers. One of the many problems about making social application of natural selection like Spencer is that changes in human society can so easily produce changesin the conditions under which they themselves arose. Is the internalcombustion engine ‘fitter’ than the horse and cart? In a sense, yes, butonly so long as it doesn’t run the world out of oil.

That doesn’t mean that Darwin shouldn’t be allowed to changeanyone’s attitudes to anything – far from it. Here is an example. Theliterary critic and popularist Christian theologian C. S. Lewis once(though I’m sure not only once) found himself lamenting our sexualdrives. Given the opportunity, he wrote, most of us would eat toomuch, but not enormously too much; whereas if a young manindulged his sexual appetite every time he felt like it, and each act ledto a baby, he would in a very short time populate an entire village.Which shows, Lewis concluded, just how perverted our naturalsexuality has become.

But before you castigate yourself a sinner and start bewailing the lostinnocence of the human male, reflect on the lesson of Darwin: what wesee here is no perversion of nature; it is simply nature herself, who is notconcerned to construct the world in accordance with our moral code oranyone else’s. Few factors will, on average, have as big an effect on thenumbers of a man’s children as the strength and frequency of his sexualurges; so if this is itself something which many of his children inheritfrom him, it is clearly a characteristic which natural selection will select

91

and enhance. If most of today’s males possess it that is just what weshould expect, and certainly no call to start speaking of the Fall of Man,perversion, and moral deterioration. Or perhaps what some call originalsin is really the fact that what evolution has produced – and was boundto produce – is out of line with their own conception of an ideal humancharacter.

Incidentally: don’t worry about all those villages, each populated byseveral hundred half-brothers and sisters. They will only spring upwhere life provides our young Casanova with a veritable production-linesupply of females, willing, fertile, not already pregnant, and notassociated with any other males sufficiently aggressive to send himpacking. Nature can be relied upon to ensure that this does not happenvery often, to put it mildly. C. S. Lewis’s imagination was floating wellclear of the facts.

That example is specific and relatively trivial, but you can easily see howDarwinism could subvert an entire philosophy, such as one of those wehave just seen. For Descartes human reason was a faculty given to usand guaranteed by God, no less, and that was why he could rely on it totell us about the essential nature of mind and matter, and a good dealelse besides. What if instead he had thought of it as a naturalinstrument which had developed because, and to the extent that, it gaveits possessors a competitive advantage over those without it? Would hethen have supposed that what it appeared to tell us on such matterscould with complete confidence be taken to be the truth? If so, howwould he have justified it? It is one thing to think that God could not be adeceiver; but quite another to say that since the faculty of reason givesus such advantage in practical matters it cannot possibly lead ushopelessly astray when applied to a question like whether the mind is anindependent substance. Am I to believe that because reason is good athelping us survive it must also be good at metaphysics? Why on earthshould that be true? If Descartes had lived after Darwin (please forgivethe historical absurdity) the foundations of his philosophy would have

92

had to be very different, and if they were so different, could thesuperstructure have been the same?

Nietzsche: The Genealogy of Morals

‘A philosopher is a terrible explosive from which nothing is safe’ – that isthe only comment we have heard so far (p. 2) from the Germanphilosopher Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900). He had no intention ofoffering his readers a comfortable experience, and his contemporariesdefended themselves by just not reading him. But soon after his deaththe tide began to turn, and he became a major influence on twentiethcenturythought, especially on the European continent.

The Genealogy of Morals, first published in 1887, consists of a prefaceand three essays, all conveniently divided into numbered sections.Don’t skip the preface. And don’t miss the first sentence: ‘how muchwe know nowadays, but how little we know about ourselves’. A hugechange in European thought is under way. The tendency had long beento suppose that, however bewildering and opaque the rest of realitymay be to us, at least we could tell what was going on in our own minds;but in the nineteenth century that tendency is fast losing momentum.We have just seen a hint of it in Hegel’s understanding of history: theforces of Geist are at work in us, though we know nothing or little of it(p. 84 above). Less than a generation after Nietzsche came SigmundFreud (1856–1939), founder of psychoanalysis, with his doctrine of theunconscious mind in which the most important causes of our mentallives lie hidden from us. Acquiring self-knowledge is no longer a matterof a quick introspective glance. It calls for hard and painful work, andthere is no guarantee that you will like what you find.

Don’t miss §3 of the preface either. Do you hear something familiarabout it? It reminds me of Part 1 of Descartes’s Discourse on the Method:still a teenager, the future philosopher is struck by scepticism andmistrust towards the intellectual diet that his seniors are feeding him

93

Some more high spots(p. 76 above). For Descartes it had been the neo-Aristotelianism of theuniversities. For Nietzsche it was the moral values of nineteenth-centuryChristianity. Were they as self-evident as everyone around him seemedto think? Descartes wanted to inquire into the truth of these ‘truths’that he was being taught. Nietzsche reckoned it was time for somequestions about the value of these ‘values’. His method was to askabout their history, their pedigree, what he called their ‘genealogy’.Where had they come from, how had people come to hold them? Whyhad they come to hold them, or in other words: what were these valuesdoing for the people whose values they became?

A frequent reaction at this point is to say that the value of something,what it is worth, depends on what it is like now. How it came to be thatway is quite another matter. So Nietzsche is asking the wrong question.However well he answers it, it won’t tell us anything about the value ofour values. To think that it will is to commit (some more philosophers’jargon for your growing collection!) the ‘genealogical fallacy’.

But is that criticism altogether fair? I don’t think so. There are certainlycases in which our view of what something is worth is very much boundup with our beliefs about how it began, and if those beliefs change ourevaluation of the thing itself is threatened as well. Indeed we have justseen a very important example, one which was important for Nietzschetoo: the effect of Darwinism on our conception of ourselves. For somany of Darwin’s contemporaries the human race originated in adecision by God to create us in His own image. The idea that we had infact developed from inferior things like monkeys by a distinctly chancyprocess that might just as easily not have happened wasn’t just a newfact to take on board, like the existence of one more previouslyundiscovered planet; it was a slap in the face for human dignity andtheir conception of their own worth – which was why it was doggedlyresisted then and is resisted by some to this day. No doubt about it:under the right circumstances, genealogies can be just as explosive asNietzsche intended – so back to the question about moral values.

94

Many believed, and some still do, that moral values were of similarorigin: handed down to human beings direct from God. Nietzsche,who in spite of his clerical home background once described himselfas an atheist by instinct, had no interest whatever in that story; hesought the origin of human values in human needs and humanpsychology. (Human, all too Human is the pregnant title of one of hisearlier books.)

He wasn’t the first to do so, as becomes clear in preface §4. In fact,there was already a tradition of it, and Nietzsche took its central thesis,broadly stated, to be something along the following lines: whenhumans found certain types of behaviour (on the part of individuals)advantageous to them and the smooth running of their society, theycalled them ‘good’, and strongly encouraged them; where they foundthem disadvantageous, the reverse. That, simply, is how behaving forthe good of others rather than one’s own came to be regarded asgood – the others declared it to be good, because of the benefit theyreceived.

On the face of it that sounds quite plausible: a society reinforces what isbeneficial to it. But Nietzsche regarded it as sentimental, unhistoricalclaptrap. Drawing on his expert knowledge of ancient languages (hehad had, and then abandoned, a meteoric academic career) he told avery different tale. Far from its being those who received benefits fromthe behaviour of others who then called those others (and theirbehaviour) ‘good’, it was the upper classes, the aristocracy, the nobility,the rulers of ancient societies who first called themselves (and their wayof life) good and the ordinary people, the slaves, the subject population,bad. Early good/bad distinctions are perhaps better understood asdistinctions between ‘noble’ and base’, free and enslaved, leaders andled, the washed and the unwashed. They were the words in which thetop dogs celebrated themselves, their strength, and their own way oflife, and expressed the extent of the gap that they felt betweenthemselves and the weak, impoverished, servile masses.

95

Some more high spotsThat’s also pretty plausible – you can just imagine them thinking andtalking that way. (You can still hear it going on nowadays if you get intothe right company.) But it was the next step which, according toNietzsche, was the decisive one for the next 2,000 years and more ofEuropean morality: the worm turned, the masses revolted. He isn’ttalking about violent revolution, armed struggle, for which theunderclasses were generally too weak, both materially and spiritually,but about something much subtler and much more insidious. Theyrelieved their frustration and resentment in one of the very few waysthat were open to them, namely by developing their own system ofvalues in which everything about their oppressors was ‘bad’ and theythemselves, whose lives contrasted with theirs in so many ways,were ‘good’.

So this value-system was not God-given, and it was not the outcome ofsome intuitive perception of its truth, or intrinsic ‘rightness’. It was avengeful, retaliatory device, born of the weak’s resentment of thestrong. All that commitment to charity, compassion, and love wasactually fuelled by hate. This kind of thought is entirely typical ofNietzsche, who loved to stand popular conceptions on their head. Justwhen you thought your house was in good order, along comes aNietzschean ‘explosion’ and suddenly your roof has changed places withyour cellar. This is philosophy at its most challenging. Naturaliconoclasts will just love it, but anyone can admire the fireworks.

Just these facts (as he believed) about the origins of the morality of loveand compassion wouldn’t have made Nietzsche so profoundlymistrustful of it as he actually was. After all, in adopting and promotingit the masses were trying, in the only way open to them, to gain powerover the strong, and he has nothing against that – all life, in his view, is amanifestation of the will to power, and no tiny little human moralist hasany business pronouncing on life in general. What he most dislikesabout ‘herd morality’ is that it arose not through affirmation of theirown way of life (like the codes of the higher classes) but through the

96

14. What to blow up next? Gazing fiercely at the world over the amazing moustache, Nietzsche always looks as if he is about to light some fuse or other.

 

negation of someone else’s: they looked at the vigorous, free, proud,self-assured, self-assertive people who ruled them, resentfully declaredtheir qualities to be bad and hence the opposite qualities, such aspassivity, servitude, humility, unselfishness, to be good. Herd moralityis life-denying, in Nietzsche’s estimation.

Those who espoused this morality were now in a very strained position.As living beings they embodied the same instinctive will to power as didthe ruling class, but unlike them they had no natural outlet for it. Sowhen their instincts led them to seek a different kind of power bypronouncing their masters’ masterful instincts to be vices they were infact turning against their own instincts as well. So, to add to the fact

97

that they were needy and oppressed, these people were psychologicallysick, inwardly divided. And they felt pretty wretched.

But help – of a sort – is at hand, in the form of a figure known to everyculture and epoch and of intense interest to Nietzsche: the asceticpriest, committed to poverty, humility, and chastity, and in some casespractising quite extreme forms of self-torture. This figure, whorepresents at its most explicit the wish to be rid of the bodily conditionsof life and to escape into something otherworldly and ‘beyond’, denieslife more emphatically than anyone else. So, like the herd, he is sick, butmuch stronger than they are – a strength which manifests itself in hisability to adopt and sustain his way of life.

This strength gives him power, the power to lead and direct the flock ofweaker souls. It arises partly from their perception of his inwardstrength, partly from the air of mystery and esoteric knowledge withwhich the ascetic surrounds himself. But it also arises in part from thefact that he does them a service: he alleviates their suffering. Rememberthat they suffer because they have set themselves against their ownvital instincts; so he can hardly be expected to cure their suffering,because he too sets himself against his vital instincts, only more openly,with greater determination and singleness of purpose.

An important fact about human suffering is that people will put up witha great deal if only they understand the reason for it – even glory in it, ifthey find the reason good enough. Another is that those who aresuffering want to find someone to blame for it – that acts as a kind ofanaesthetic, blocking the pain out with an overlay of anger.

The priest instinctively knows this, and gives his flock both a reason fortheir suffering and an author of it. They are suffering to make their soulsfit for heaven, or for the victory of justice, or for the sake of truth, or sothat God’s kingdom should come on earth – all fine things to suffer for.Who is to blame for the suffering? Answer: they themselves. With this

98

stroke the seething resentment of the masses is directed away from therulers, its original objects, conflict with whom will most likely only leadthem into more suffering, perhaps partial annihilation. Redirected ontothemselves it may at least provide strength and motivation for a littleself-discipline and self-improvement – under priestly instruction. Andthey are ready to accept it, for as we saw they have already turnedagainst their own instincts and so in one sense against themselves. Theyknow what has to be rooted out: any hint in themselves of the attitudesand behaviour characteristic of the strong. They have been renderedharmless.

Such is Nietzsche’s analysis. Whatever else we may think of it, it iscertainly unflinching. These are no more than a few of the mainthoughts, crudely compressed. Nietzsche’s style, its musicality, itsenergy, its variety, its biting wit, is something one can only experiencefor oneself. And the text is full of delightful detail, like the account of thereal philosopher in §7 of the third essay. Or take the first essay, §§7–9.Do you find this anti-Semitic in tone? Then read it again, and you willsee that it is really aimed at anti-Semitism itself. What it says is that itwas only the moral history of the Jews which created the psychologicalclimate in which Christianity could arise – Nietzsche is firing an ironicsalvo at those Christian anti-Semites who grounded their anti-Semitismon the premiss that it was Jews who were responsible for the crucifixionof Christ. Once again he has turned a popular way of thinking upsidedown: Christians should revere Jews, because they have the Jews tothank for the success of Christianity. Delicious stuff!

99

Chapter 8

What’s in it for whom?

Thinking about philosophy is hard work – you may have noticed, thoughif you’ve got this far at least it hasn’t put you off. Writing the stuff iseven harder. (Take it from me.) So why have people done either? Well,for one or more of a whole catalogue of reasons. In the hope of learningto control nature, or of learning to control themselves, to get to heaven,to avoid going to hell; to enable us to bear life as it is, to make lifebearable by changing it; to shore up institutions political, moral, orintellectual, or to tear them down; to promote the writer’s interests, topromote other people’s interests (yes, that happens too), even topromote everybody’s interests; because they can’t stand certain otherphilosophers; because their job demands it. Perhaps just occasionallyout of pure curiosity. There is a widespread idea that philosophers areunworldly people, remote from reality. If that refers to their lifestyle, itmay frequently have been true, though not always. If it refers to theirwork, then (I am speaking now of philosophy that endures) it is usuallyfalse – at least in the sense that they are almost always addressing somereal concern and claiming to offer some real improvement.

Right back at the beginning (p. 1) I spoke of three big questions: whatshould I do? what is there? (i.e. what is reality like?) and how do weknow? It might sound as if any philosophy offering human beings somereal improvement must be concerned primarily with the first of those.But that wouldn’t be right. Beliefs about how things are can serve to

100

give a meaning to life or bolster our feelings of self-worth, as forexample the belief that we are made in the image of God; they can givea rationale to (or serve as an excuse for) certain types of behaviour, likethe belief that humans have rational souls and animals don’t. Answersto the question ‘how do we know?’ can strengthen, or loosen, the holdthat various answers to the first two types of question have on us; andvery importantly, they can imply beliefs about who has knowledge, withobvious consequences for the prestige and power of members of thatgroup.

Most philosophy attempts, then, to do something for somebody. Tofinish, let’s look at some philosophy from this perspective. If it is toendure, a philosophy needs a constituency, a group of interestedparties. Its chances are best if the constituency is a large one. First, acouple of philosophies devoted to the individual. That’s a bigconstituency – we’re all individuals.

The individual

The philosophy of Epicurus (see Chapter 5) is addressed to theindividual; it offers a recipe, backed by argument, for living a happy life.Social and political arrangements are unjust if they interfere withindividuals’ attempts to apply the recipe; otherwise, his only politicalrecommendation is not to engage in politics. You can to some degreehelp others to live the right sort of life, but only those close to you(Epicureanism strongly advocates friendship); everyone must follow therecipe for themselves. For success depends not on material conditions,the sort of thing one person can arrange for another, but on yourattitude towards them. And that is precisely the point, since happiness comes of knowing that your state of mind is largely independent of whatever life may tip on you next.

It may then surprise you to hear that in Epicurus’ opinion the only goodis pleasure. Surely how much pleasure we can get depends heavily on

101

15. Epicureanism in practice? Not according to Epicurus.

 

our material conditions of life? But there’s a second surprise: he thinksthat the highest possible pleasure is freedom from physical pain andmental anxiety. Simple, easily attainable pleasures are no less pleasantthan extravagant and exotic ones; and reliance on the latter inducesanxiety: the means to obtain them may be taken away from you. (Theidea that Epicureanism is a constant dinner party with musicians anddancing-girls is completely misleading – it must have come down to usfrom Epicurus’ opponents, who were numerous.)

A cause of much mental turmoil is superstitious fear. Banish it. Realizethat in their perfect bliss the gods have neither need nor wish tointerfere in human affairs. Learn enough about physics, astronomy, andmeteorology to feel confident that all phenomena have naturalexplanations – they are not portents, omens, or signs of divine wrath.

102

And do not fear death, for death is simply non-existence, in which therecan be nothing to fear. That, on a thumbnail, is Epicurus’ advice to eachone of us. You could do a lot worse than follow it. Of course therewouldn’t be any politicians if we all did; but perhaps we could put upwith that.

Epicurus taught the individual to be inwardly armed against whatevermay befall. Over 2,000 years later John Stuart Mill wrote a stirringdefence of every individual’s right to shape their own life. In his famous essay On Liberty (1859) he argued for what has become known as theHarm Principle: ‘the only purpose for which power can be rightfullyexercised over any member of a civilized community . . . is to preventharm to others’. As democratic systems of government became betterentrenched in Europe and America they also became better understood,and Mill had spotted a latent danger: the tyranny of the majority overthe individual and over minority groups.

As befits the author of Utilitarianism (see Chapter 5) he makes noappeal to human rights, but rather to the damage done, the valuelost, if his principle is not observed. To be master of one’s own lifeis a good for human beings, a part of our happiness, so the individualloses even if what the law forbids them to do is something theywouldn’t have done anyway. But the whole society loses too. For thepeople whom the Harm Principle protects are an extremely valuableresource, precisely because they have unconventional opinions andunusual lifestyles. If their opinions are in fact true the value to thecommunity is obvious. If they are false it is less obvious but equallyreal: if truth is wholly unopposed it becomes a dead formula on thetongue – opposition ensures that it remains live in the mind. As forunconventional lifestyles, they provide living experimental data fromwhich everyone can learn. Constraining the individual damageseverybody.

103

The State

Earlier (Chapter 2, and again briefly in Chapter 5, p. 50ff.) we looked atthe so-called contract theory of political obligation. We saw it in actionin Plato’s Crito, and noticed that it can in principle take many forms,arising from the variety of possible answers to the question: whocontracts with whom to do what on what conditions?

Of all contract theories that of Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679) is perhapsthe most famous – and if so then because of his marvellouslyunflattering description of the ‘state of nature’, life before any socialarrangements had been made, in which nobody can own anything,cultivate anything, or do anything constructive at all without continualfear of being attacked and robbed, with a fair chance of being murderedthrown in. As long as this ‘war . . . of every man against every man’ lasts,life is ‘solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short’. So how to improvematters? Form an association; agree to accept the authority of a‘sovereign’ (person or body) with full powers to do anything they deemneedful to protect each of you from the others and from any external threat. This sovereign body can do no injustice, since as their accepted representative everything it does is done with the presumed consent ofall who are party to the contract that set it up. Only if the sovereigndirectly threatens their lives may the citizens resist – for it was toprotect their lives that they entered into the contract in the first place.The ‘Laws and Constitution of Athens’, you recall (Crito 50e–51c, p. 19above), wouldn’t allow Socrates even that much, but gave little reasonto support such extreme claims.

Mightn’t Hobbes’s citizens reply that it wasn’t just to protect their livesthat they entered into the contract? It was to enjoy various liberties, allof which were lacking in the state of nature. That would suggest thatthe citizens’ right of resistance kicks in rather earlier than the point atwhich their very lives are threatened. (Besides, having handed over allthe power, how are they to protect their lives?) Like Plato, Hobbes seems

104

to have gone further than his arguments warrant. But really that isn’tsurprising. Plato’s youth coincided with Athens’ disastrous war againstSparta. Hobbes was born as the Spanish Armada approached, towardsthe end of a century torn by religious conflict that cost millions of lives,and his maturity witnessed England’s descent into civil war. No wonderthat both men believed that the prime need of political life wasgovernment strong enough to maintain peace and order, the valueswithout which no others could even begin. Their way of supporting theindividual was to hand over total sovereignty to the state. No surprisethat some have thought that they went too far. John Locke (1632–1704),writing less than fifty years after Hobbes but in somewhat lessthreatening political circumstances, waxed ironical:

As if when men quitting the state of nature entered into society, theyagreed that all of them but one, should be under the restraint of laws,but that he should still retain all the liberty of the state of nature,increased by power, and made licentious by impunity. This is to think thatmen are so foolish, that they take care to avoid what mischiefs may bedone them by pole-cats, or foxes, but are content, nay think it safety, tobe devoured by lions.

The priesthood

Priests are not generally persons of either wealth or military strength.So whatever gives them security, and not just security but often veryconsiderable power within their society or religious group, must besomething else. It arises from what their people think about them, whatthey take them to be able to do for them, the value that they put uponthem. In other words, it arises from philosophy. The less tangible andimmediate the benefits and the dangers, the more powerful theapparatus needed to maintain belief in them and faith in those whoconfer (or avert) them.

This isn’t a matter of intentional deception – though it would be absurd

105

16. Dwarfing everything, Hobbes’s Leviathan rises out of the billowing hills of the English countryside. Can this really be safety? No wonder Locke was worried.

 

to suggest that no such thing ever occurs. It isn’t even a question ofwhether what the priestly class would have the laity believe aboutthem is true or false. The point is that it should be believed:otherwise, no priests. So plenty of writing exists which promotestheir status.

Illustrations exist everywhere, so since we haven’t set foot outsideWestern Europe for the last few chapters let’s return to India and look atthe opening chapter of one of the major Upanishads. By the time TheQuestions of King Milinda was written, the Br ¸hada¯ranyaka Upanishad (BU,see Bibliography) may well have been as old as Chaucer’s CanterburyTales today. It belongs to the world of the Hindu Vedas, a world of ritual,sacrifices, and chants that are highly beneficial, though only if correctlyperformed. To ensure correct performance, you need an expert learnedin Vedic matters; for a major ritual you even need a super-expert whomakes sure that the other experts are performing correctly. Suchexpertise needs to be accorded due respect, and no doubt a due fee.(‘I wish I had wealth so I could perform rites’ is said to be everyone’sdesire (1. 4. 17) ). This expertise – and the perks attaching to it – is the(hereditary) privilege of a particular social class or caste, the Brahmins.No mere social convention, this caste system, as 1. 4. 11 tells us –apparently it arises out of the way the gods themselves were created.Read 1. 4. 11 very carefully: notice how it ascribes a certain superiority tothe Ks¸atriya, the ruling aristocratic warrior class, whilst maintaining acertain priority for the Brahmins. Their power is ‘the womb’ of thepower of the rulers – that from which it issues. So it’s a bad idea for awarrior to injure a priest, for he harms the source of his own power.This is philosophy and theology, but clearly it is good practical politicsas well.

A reader new to this tradition of thought will find much that is strikinglyalien. There is the doctrine of the correspondences between the parts ofthe sacrificial horse (this was the most prestigious of the Vedicsacrifices) and parts or aspects of the world: the year, the sky, the earth.

107

17. The Raja consults his priests.

There is the faith in etymology, as when a longer word is shown to bemade up – approximately – of two shorter words, and this fact is takenas indicating the genesis or inner nature of whatever it is that the longerword describes. The knowledge of this strange lore, the text repeatedlyinsists, is highly advantageous: ‘A man who knows this will stand firmwherever he may go’; and ‘Whoever knows this, . . . death is unable toseize him . . . and he becomes one of these deities’. So we should valuethis knowledge, and therefore we should value the people who guardit – the priests.

It isn’t necessarily what the priest can do for you – it may be what he cando to you. Don’t go messing about with a Brahmin’s wife. As BU 6. 4. 12makes abundantly clear, he will know just the ritual for getting back atyou. And ‘A man cursed by a Brahmin having this knowledge is sure todepart from this world bereft of his virility and stripped of his goodworks . . . . Never try to flirt with the wife of a learned Brahmin who knows this, lest one make an enemy of a man with this knowledge.’ Youhave been warned.

Of course it isn’t just priests who need to be needed. It’s also doctorsand dustbin men and game show presenters and advertisingconsultants. And – I almost forgot – philosophy professors. They allexist because of people’s beliefs and values, hopes and fears.

The working classes

The industrialization of Western Europe brought wealth to a few and themost deplorable conditions of life to many. The many quickly found achampion in Karl Marx (1818–83), whose work, it is no exaggeration tosay, changed the political face of all those parts of the globe wherethere was such a thing as politics at all. Only in the last decade has itsinfluence begun to wane. It may have been a victim of its own success –after all, there is no test of a theory like actually trying it out. (That’s theprinciple which underlies the enormous power of the experimental

109

method in the sciences.) And no political theory ever gets a proper trialunless a lot of people are already convinced of it.

Here we have an opportunity to spot some of those connections whichare to be found all over the history of philosophy. Marx was no discipleof Hegel – in some respects he was violently opposed to him. Butnobody of that time was untouched by Hegelianism. Like Hegel, Marxheld that history exhibits a necessary progression; unlike Hegel, he heldthe driving force to be economic: the material conditions of life. LikeHegel, he held that progress was essentially the resolution of conflict;but the conflict was between the economic interests of differentsections of society – hence the famous ‘class struggle’ of the Marxists.And he held a version of the doctrine we saw to be so important toHegel: the value of being in touch with your ‘Other’, something that‘has something of yourself in it’, as we often say.

Marx made full use of this idea in his analysis of the contemporaryeconomic system, characterized by the conflict of interest between theworking classes and the capitalists, the owners of the ‘means ofproduction’ (i.e. the factories). His sympathies lay firmly with thecurrent underdogs, the workers. The crucial thing was that they,needing to make a living and having nothing else to sell, were sellingtheir labour – working in return for a wage. Not much of a wage,because those buying their labour had no interest in paying them anymore than was necessary to keep them working. This ensured for themand their families a life of acute and degrading poverty.

But another, more spiritual, feature of the situation was pressing heavilyon them too – the fact that the work they were doing was not reallytheir work: ‘the work is external to the worker, it is not a part of hisnature . . . not the satisfaction of a need, merely a means to satisfyingother needs. . . . in work he does not belong to himself but to someoneelse’. The unsatisfied need is the need to express oneself in what onedoes.

110

Diagnosis is one thing, a cure is another. It turns out to be just aspossible to experience alienation when the work one is doing is notone’s own but the State’s as when it is not one’s own but thecompany’s. That much identification with the interests of thecommunity, when the community is a large and complex one, is noteasily achieved or maintained. And even if it were, that would just helpto make work endurable. If what you do is stand by a conveyor belttightening the lids on jars of marmalade it may make things lessintolerable to be doing it for Mother Russia than for the GlobalMarmalade Corporation. But that does nothing whatever to make itsomething positive, an expression of your personality or skills or ameans to the development of your potential. Nowadays we speak of ‘jobsatisfaction’. Not all of us get it – the problem hasn’t gone away.

Women

We have been bounding from topic to topic, person to person, acrossthe globe and three millennia like a package tour gone mad. Butnobody has been introduced to philosophy until they have seen, in atleast one case, a little more deeply into some one philosopher’s mind.We have had a glimpse of two famous works by John Stuart Mill,Utilitarianism and On Liberty. The first told us that the Good washappiness, the second that happiness requires individual freedom. Hisalmost equally famous essay The Subjection of Women (1869) tells usthat that means everyone, not just adult males.

The practical politician in Mill takes aim at a quite specific and (in theoryat least) easily remedied abuse: ‘the legal subordination of one sex tothe other is wrong in itself, and now one of the chief hindrances tohuman improvement; . . . it ought to be replaced by a principle ofperfect equality’. Present family law, he argued, amounted to theenslavement of wives. He meant the word quite literally, as his accountof the legal position in Chapter 2 shows. What he wants changed,however, is the entire package of practices and opinions which deny

111

What’s in it for whom?women equal educational opportunities and then equal access, onmerit, to all occupations and positions of influence.

Any major philosophy needs potential beneficiaries, even in cases wherethe benefit may be imaginary. In seeking to improve the lot of womenMill has plenty of beneficiaries to appeal to. But he believes that theconstituency for his views is 100 per cent of mankind, not just 50. Hewrites about the injustice to women and the damage done to their livesby existing conditions, but he writes almost as much about the loss toeverybody. The suppression of women’s talents is ‘a tyranny to themand a detriment to society’. History tells us a good deal about whatwomen can do, because women have done it. It tells us nothing aboutwhat they can’t do, and it never will until they are routinely given the opportunity. (As I write, 130-something years later, a young woman is inthe lead in the closing stages of a single-handed round-the-world sailingrace, an event that must make demands on mental and physical staminabeyond anything I can imagine.)

Mill also believes that men are damaged as individuals, often in ways theyare not likely to notice (which is itself part of the damage). For it is notgood for anyone to be brought up to believe themselves superior toothers, especially when it happens, as it frequently does, to be otherswhose faculties are in fact superior to theirs. On the other hand, harshthough it may sound, living one’s life around a close relationship withsomeone of inferior ‘ability and cultivation’ is detrimental to the superiorparty. Yet many men find themselves in just this situation, married towomen whose limitations are no less real just because they are anenforced artificial product of a thoroughly pernicious system. Those menmay think they are winning, but the truth is that everyone’s a loser.

Thank goodness things have improved since 1869. A bit. In some partsof the world. For the time being.

Given our topic it would be strange to draw attention only to something

112

written by a man. But there is an obvious, indeed almost obligatory,place to turn. Simone de Beauvoir’s massive The Second Sex (1949) hasbeen the inspiration of so much feminist writing ever since. Were Iallowed a brief return to life in about 200 years’ time I would not besurprised to find it rated one of the most influential books of thetwentieth century.

Like Mill, Beauvoir is concerned with the liberty of women; unlike Mill,she is not particularly concerned with the connection between libertyand happiness. She denies that there are any interesting generalstatements about what women are like, for what they are like is aresponse to their circumstances, some of which are social and thereforehighly variable. (Mill appeared to think that there might be some suchgeneralizations, but denied that any were known.) Besides, Beauvoirstands in the existentialist tradition and holds that how we react to ourcircumstances is a free decision for each of us – to pretend that we arewholly determined by our circumstances is inauthenticity, abdication of responsibility.

I have space enough only to touch one of the themes of this long andconstantly lively book. In Chapter 7 I spoke of the enormous influence ofHegel, and mentioned his doctrine of self-knowledge: it arises whenone meets aspects of oneself in something else, or one’s ‘Other’. Seizingon the psychological truth in this, whilst completely ignoring Hegel’sgrand metaphysics, Beauvoir develops her most characteristic doctrine:woman is man’s Other, and the self-understanding of both depends on it.

When the Other is itself a subject, a person, the situation becomes morecomplicated and potentially very damaging. I’m watching you watchingme watching you . . . How A sees B affects B, so it alters what A finds inB. And this (recall the doctrine about self-knowledge) alters A’sperception of A, which then affects A, both of which affect how Asees B . . . Just once get something badly wrong, as when man enslavedwoman, thinking that that was good for him, and woman accepted

113

What’s in it for whom?enslavement, thinking that was the only choice for her, and all relationsbetween the sexes are going to get entangled in a net of error andartificiality. Now ‘whatever he does . . . he feels tricked and she feelswronged’. The reciprocity of the relationship means that neither partyalone can put it right: Beauvoir appeals simultaneously to men torecognize the independence and equality of women, and to women tobecome just that, by realizing that it is indeed the truth aboutthemselves.

So on the very last page comes a sentence which, whilst completelycharacteristic of Beauvoir, could almost have been written by Mill:‘when we abolish the slavery of half of humanity, together with thewhole system of hypocrisy that it implies, then the “division” ofhumanity will reveal its genuine significance and the human couple willfind its true form’. He, coming from the empiricist and utilitarianismtradition, and she, against the totally different background of Hegel plusexistentialism, end up remarkably close together. It almost makes youthink they might be right . . .

Animals

Anyone promoting the interests of animals – non-human animals –faces an initial problem: animals can’t read. So the writer will have toconvince an audience distinct from the group he seeks to benefit, whichcalls for one or both of two strategies: either appeal to their betternature, or argue that they will benefit too. We saw the second of thoseat work in attempts to engage the support of the laity for thepriesthood; Mill and Beauvoir used both in trying to rally men to thecause of women’s emancipation.

The situation is even less promising when most of those to whom youare appealing benefit, or think they benefit, from the very practices youare trying to have abolished. Lots of people like to eat meat, lots ofpeople believe that humans benefit enormously from medical research

114

conducted by means of experiments on animals. Feminist writers hadsomething of the same problem when they tried to win men over totheir views, but at least they had a direct constituency in women;‘animalists’ have no direct constituency at all.

Buddhism, without going to extremes, is naturally protective towardsanimals. I say ‘naturally’, because Buddhism retains the Hindu beliefthat souls return again and again to life, and that what is in oneincarnation a human may in another be an animal. The Buddha oncelived as a hare. Christianity had no such metaphysics, nor the attachedscruples – ask an Indian cow whether metaphysics matters! Adam wascreated Lord over the animals, and they were created for the use ofmankind. We have rational souls, but they don’t, which leaves themoutside the moral sphere. (St Thomas Aquinas (1225–74) said so, amongothers.) That one ran and ran. Hume took a pop at it (see p. 26 above),but still it went on running.

As the founder of the utilitarianism that Mill espoused and developed,Jeremy Bentham (1748–1832) took pain and pleasure to be the morallydecisive categories, and famously declared of animals: ‘The question isnot, Can they reason? nor, Can they talk? but, Can they suffer?’ (Theycan, of course, so they enter into the utilitarian equation and we havemoral responsibilities towards them.) But that was an incidentalpassage from a book devoted to human welfare. It was only veryrecently that we began to get whole books explicitly about the moralityof our treatment of animals (see Bibliography), a fact which mayreflect the tricky tactical situation which their authors have to address.

Their doctrines have made enormous progress over the last twenty orthirty years – the tactical problem wasn’t insoluble. They were able toappeal to the sentimentality of those who like to ascribe humancharacteristics to animals. They were able to appeal to the much harderfacts of modern biology, which show, far more convincingly than Humecould have done, that our relationship to animals is a lot closer than

115

Aquinas ever imagined. They appealed powerfully to people’sconsciences, asking Bentham’s question whether the suffering ofanimals could be justified by resulting good for humans, and if so, thenwhen? For you might feel a difference between the death ofexperimental mice in return for a substantial advance in the treatmentof cancer, and the death of dogs and bears in a bear-pit for the sake of afew minutes of sport.

Some aspects of animal welfare tie in with another pressing concern –the whole business of damage to, and care for, the natural environment.One such aspect, vegetarianism, is sometimes treated in that way.Using vegetable materials to feed cattle, and then eating the meat, issaid to be a very inefficient way of using the Earth’s resources,compared with eating the vegetables straight off and cutting out thecow in between. So vegetarianism is presented as being, long-term, ineveryone’s self-interest. Good move – the more people are listening,the more point in talking.

Professional philosophers

You will have noticed, perhaps with some surprise, that I have saidnothing about philosophy as it is being written now. That some of it is ofvalue, and will last, I have little doubt, and even less doubt that whatlasts will be a tiny fraction of what is now being published. I could guessat one or two titles, but a guess is exactly what it would be; so I havepreferred to stick to work which we already know to have survived asubstantial test of time. Part of the reason why it has survived the test isthat it was written out of a real feeling that its message was needed forthe benefit of humanity, and we can recognize the passion in it as wellas the intelligence.

There is no reason why today’s philosophical writing shouldn’t be likethis, and some of it is. But one should be aware that most of it is writtenby professionals, people whose livelihood and career prospects require

116

18. A professional philosopher – be just a little wary of this man.

 

them to write and publish on philosophy. Nothing follows from that –after all, Kant and Hegel were professional philosophers too. And itcertainly doesn’t follow that their interest in philosophy isn’t genuine. Butit does mean that amongst the various reasons for them to be interested,some are what I might call artificial. Back in Chapter 1 I spoke ofphilosophers as entering debate to change the course of civilization,not to solve little puzzles. But in today’s world of professionalizedphilosophy the most brilliant solution of a puzzle can get its author avery long way indeed; the temptations and pressures are there to writeon puzzles, for other professional philosophers, and let civilizationtake its own course.

That is not – please! – to be read as a blanket condemnation ofeverything now emerging from university philosophy departments. It ismeant as advice to someone making their first approach to philosophywith the help of this Very Short Introduction. If you are leafing throughthe latest philosophy book from some academic press, or a recent issue

117

of a top professional journal, and find yourself unable to see what is goingon or what claim it could possibly have on your attention, don’t transferyour reaction to the whole of philosophy en bloc. It may be that you arelooking at a detail from some much larger picture that you don’t yet havethe experience to recognize. Or the worst may be true, and you really arereading the philosopher’s equivalent of a chess problem, somethinghighly ingenious but with no wider significance. Whilst developing yourown powers of discrimination, stick to the good old classics.

For no such doubts need arise about any of the philosophers I have triedto introduce you to. We know that they were writing from the heart aswell as from the head. Alongside their enormous merits they may havetheir faults, to be sure: unsuspected ignorance, prejudice, overconfidence,obscurity – just to get the list started. But as I hope to haveindicated, philosophy is as wide as life, and in its huge literature areexemplified most intellectual vices as well as most intellectual virtues.Wishing it were otherwise would be close to wishing that human beingsdidn’t have minds.

 

118

Bibliography

Where to go next?

 

My time is up. But I promised to leave you with the names and addresses, so to speak, of some guides with whom you can begin to gofurther and deeper. It is worth noticing that some very prominentphilosophers have devoted time and care to writing introductions. Thisis no matter of churning out a standard textbook: every route intophilosophy is to some extent personal.

Introductions

T. Nagel, What Does it All Mean? (New York and Oxford: OxfordUniversity Press, 1987)

In this very short book Tom Nagel, eschewing all mention of history andaiming straight for the problems, gives the reader a taste of ninedifferent areas: knowledge, other people’s minds, the mind–bodyrelation, language and meaning, freedom of the will, right and wrong,justice, death, and the meaning of life. Just right for your first piece ofreading – see what grabs you.

S. W. Blackburn, Think (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999)

The perfect thing to move on to after Nagel. Takes on several of thesame themes as Nagel’s book, plus God and Reasoning, now at greaterlength and depth; frequent quotation of historical sources, so beginning

119

to communicate a sense of the (Western) philosophical tradition. Veryentertainingly written.

B. Russell, The Problems of Philosophy (Oxford: Oxford University Press,1912)

A classic introductory book, still going after nearly ninety years. Don’tmiss the last chapter – Russell’s claims for the value of philosophy –even though some of it may nowadays seem just a little grandiose andoptimistic.

Histories of philosophy

B. Russell, History of Western Philosophy (London: George Allen & Unwin,1946)

A remarkable book synthesizing a mountain of material in a mostengaging way. Enjoy it, but don’t be surprised if you later hear theopinion that Russell’s account of some particular thinker is limited, ormisses the main point, or is distorted by his intense dislike ofChristianity.

F. Copleston, A History of Philosophy (8 vols. London: Burns & Oates,1946–66)

Nothing like so much fun as Russell, but comprehensive and reliableand suitable for serious study. With a different publisher (SearchPress), Copleston later added a volume on French philosophyfrom the Revolution onwards, and another on philosophy inRussia.

S. Radhakrishnan, Indian Philosophy (2 vols. Delhi: Oxford UniversityPress, 1996; 1st publ. 1929)

Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, President of India 1962–7, earlier heldprofessorships in Calcutta and Oxford. The Indian philosophicalPhilosophy

120

tradition is deep and sophisticated; the Western reader will oftencome across familiar thoughts and arguments, fascinatinglytransformed by the unfamiliar background. Don’t panic if you seea few words of Sanskrit.

Reference works

There are now several good one-volume works of this kind: The Oxford Dictionary of Philosophy, by Simon Blackburn; The Oxford Companion to Philosophy, ed. Ted Honderich; The Cambridge Dictionary of Philosophy,ed. Robert Audi (first two Oxford University Press, the last CambridgeUniversity Press).

The best multi–volume work in English is (though I say it myself – tounderstand why I say that, take a close look at the photo on p. 117) TheRoutledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Not, in most cases, for theindividual pocket! This is one to read in a big public library or auniversity library, or via some such institution which subscribes to theinternet version.

Works referred to in the text

Chapter 2

Plato, Crito. Handy and accessible is The Last Days of Socrates (PenguinBooks) which contains The Apology, Crito, and Phaedo in a translationby Hugh Tredennick. My only complaint is that the Stephanusnumbering is indicated at the top of the page, instead of being givenfully in the margin. Should you feel yourself getting keen on Plato agood buy is Plato: Complete Works, ed. J. Cooper and D. S. Hutchinson(Hackett Publishing Co.).

Chapter 3

David Hume, Of Miracles, section X of An Enquiry Concerning HumanUnderstanding. Many editions. Try that by L. A. Selby-Bigge (OxfordBibliography

121

University Press), which includes Hume’s Enquiry Concerning thePrinciples of Morals. Other writings on religion by Hume, also easilyavailable, are his Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion and The NaturalHistory of Religion.

Chapter 4

Anon., The Questions of King Milinda is available in an inexpensiveabridged version edited by N. K. G. Mendis (Kandy, Sri Lanka: BuddhistPublication Society, 1993).Plato, Phaedrus 246a ff. and 253d ff. Plato compares the soul to a chariot.Anon., Katha Upanishad, 3. 3–7, 9: the soul is compared to a chariot inthe early Indian tradition. An easily available edition of the mainUpanishads is in the Oxford University Press World Classics series in atranslation by Patrick Olivelle.

Chapter 5

Epicurus: The early historian of philosophy Diogenes Laertius wrote awork called Lives of the Eminent Philosophers, published in the LoebClassical Library by Harvard University Press (2 vols.) The last sectionof vol. 2 is devoted entirely to Epicurus, and reproduces some of hiswritings. (Apart from these only a few fragments have come down tous.)John Stuart Mill, Utilitarianism. This short work, and Mill’s On Liberty (seebelow under Ch. 8) can both be found in a volume in the Everyman’sLibrary series published in London by J. M. Dent & Sons and in NewYork by E. P. Dutton & Co.Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan. One good option is the edition by RichardTuck published by Cambridge University Press. The famous chapterabout the state of nature is part 1, chapter 13.Plato, Republic 453–66. Plato’s abolition of the family – or should onerather say his introduction of a new, non-biological concept of thefamily? – and his reasons for it.Philosophy

122

Chapter 6

Lucretius, Of the Nature of Things, translated by R. E. Latham,introduction by John Godwin, Penguin Books. Lucretius, a Roman ofthe first century bc, put the doctrines of Epicurus into Latin verse withthe clear intention of converting his compatriots if he could. Godwin’sintroduction begins: ‘This book should carry a warning to the reader:it is intended to change your life’. The original title is De Rerum Natura.Berkeley, Three Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous. Numerouseditions: a good bet is Roger Woolhouse’s edition, published byPenguin Books, which also contains Berkeley’s Principles of HumanKnowledge.Kant, Critique of Pure Reason. Still the best translation is that by NormanKemp Smith, published by Macmillan. But beginners beware: this isvery hard reading.Sanchez, Quod Nihil Scitur. This is highly specialized stuff, but since Imentioned it in the text I give the details here: edited and translatedby Elaine Limbrick and Douglas Thomson, published by CambridgeUniversity Press.Descartes, Meditations. Many editions available. But just in case you findyourself getting interested in Descartes try (in its paperback version)The Philosophical Writings of Descartes, translated by J. Cottingham,R. Stoothoff, and D. Murdoch, published by Cambridge UniversityPress (2 vols.) The Meditations are in ii. 3–62.Sextus Empiricus, Outlines of Pyrrhonism. Again, this is specializedmaterial. But it would be a pity never to have read at least the firsttwelve sections of book 1, as far as the point where Sextus explainswhat the Sceptical philosophy is for. R. G. Bury’s translation ispublished in the Loeb Classical Library by Harvard UniversityPress.

Chapter 7

Descartes, Discourse on the Method. Numerous editions: see therecommendation for Descartes’s Meditations just above. The Discourseon the Method is in i. 111–51. Parts of Descartes’ Treatise on Man,Bibliography

123

from which the illustration on p. 80 of this book was taken, are onpp. 99–108Hegel, Introduction to the Philosophy of History. An excellent translation isthat by H. B. Nisbet and published by Cambridge University Pressunder the title Hegel, Lectures on the Philosophy of World History:Introduction. Pp. 25–151 give you all you need.Charles Darwin, The Origin of Species. To be recommended is the editionby J. W. Burrow published by Penguin Books. If you haven’t time forthe whole of it, at least read chapters 1–4 and 14 (the closing chapter).Nietzsche, The Genealogy of Morals. Translating Nietzsche’s resonant andinventive German is a tricky business; that may be why so manyEnglish translations are presently available. The two I can recommendare those by W. Kaufmann and R. J. Hollingdale, published by VintageBooks, and by Douglas Smith, published by Oxford University Press intheir World Classics series. (But if you can comfortably read Nietzschein German don’t even think about reading him in any otherlanguage.) The central passage about the activities of the ‘asceticpriest’ is 3. 10–22 – but don’t limit yourself to that.

Chapter 8

John Stuart Mill, On Liberty. This and Mill’s essay Utilitarianism (seeabove under Chapter 5) are in a volume in the Everyman’s Libraryseries published in London by J. M. Dent & Sons and in New York byE. P. Dutton & Co.John Stuart Mill, The Subjection of Women. Available in a volume calledJohn Stuart Mill: Three Essays, introduction by Richard Wollheim,published by Oxford University Press; or by itself in a very inexpensiveversion from Dover Publications.Anon., Br ¸hada¯ranyaka Upanishad. As with the Katha Upanishad (seeabove), an accessible edition is Patrick Olivelle’s translation of themain Upanishads in the Oxford University Press World Classics series.Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex. The translation by H. M. Parshley isone of the most handsome volumes in the Everyman’s Library series,published by David Campbell Publishers Ltd.Philosophy

124

Karl Marx, Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts. This is where thequotation in the text comes from. Someone having their first go atMarx should look to some anthology of his writings, perhaps TheMarx–Engels Reader, ed. R. Tucker, published by Norton and Co. Butbeware: Marx, especially early Marx, often isn’t easy to read – aconsequence of habits of thought and style he got from Hegel.Peter Singer, Animal Liberation, is a notable example of a book devotedto the morality of human relationships with animals, published byNew York Review Books in 1975. Tom Regan’s The Case for AnimalRights (University of California Press, 1983) is another.Bibliography

125

Index  A absolutism 52 aesthetic relativism 72 afterlife 21 agnosticism 2 agreement breaking 18, 19, 20 analytic philosophy 81 animals 26, 38, 54, 114–16 anthropomorphism 115 anti-Semitism 99 Aquinas, St Thomas 115 Aristophanes 13 Aristotelianism 70, 71, 76 Aristotle 5 Arjuna 40 artificial selection 88 ascetic priests 98–9 astronomy 74–5, 102 ataraxia (peace of mind) 71–2 Athena, goddess 40 atomism 63–4 B Beauvoir, Simone de 113–14 beer 54 beliefs 53–5, 94 religious 26–34, 64, 87 scepticism 70 Bentham, Jeremy 115, 116 Berkeley, George idealism 61, 65–6 opinions 10	Bible 75  body, status of 57 Boethius 6 Brahmins 107 Buddhism 4, 11, 35–45 animals 115 body, status of 57 five aggregates of 37, 38, 42, 43, 44, 56, 57 nirvana 38, 48 self 35–45 bundle theory of the mind 56, 57 C capitalists 110 Cartesian, see Descartes, Rene caste system 38 Catholicism 27 chariot analogy 39–42, 43 choice 53–4 Christianity 27, 94, 98–9, 115 citizens 50–2, 104 civic duty 18, 20, 45 class struggle 110 cognitive science 58 Cogito ergo sum (Descartes) 78 commonsense 70 compassion 96 Confucius 11 consciousness 37, 43, 65, 83–5 consequentialism 45–8, 49–50, 61 contract theory 50–2, 104–5 Copernicus 74, 75 corporate philosophy 8 cosmology 14, 74–5
Crito dialogue (Plato) 12, 14–21, 38, 45, 46, 51, 74, 104  cyclical rebirth 38, 44, 63, 115 D Darwin, Charles 87–93 Darwinism 94 death 102–3 democracy 103 Democritus 63–4 Descartes, Rene 5, 92–3, 93–4 Discourse on the Method 76–80 dualism 62, 78 scepticism 70–1, 76 dialectic 85–6 dialectical materialism 64, 86 dispositions 37 dualism 62, 66 Descartes 78 scientific theory and 62–3 E education 48, 76, 112 ego 43 empiricism 66–70 Epicureanism 4, 47–8, 64 atomism 64 individual and 101–3 social contract 52 epistemology 55, 61, 66–70 Estienne, Henri 15 ethical consequentialism 45–8 ethical questions 12, 14 existentialism 81, 113 experiences 56–7	experimental animals 116  eyewitness accounts 30–1 F falsehoods 28, 39, 41–2 families 52, 111 Fates 84 feelings 37, 43 feminism 5, 113–14, 115 five aggregates of Buddhist doctrine 37, 38, 42, 43, 44, 56, 57 Forms (Plato) 69 Freud, Sigmund 93 friendship 15–18, 20, 101 G Galileo 74, 79 ‘gastronomic’ relativism 72, 73 Geist (Spirit) 83–5 Genealogy of Morals (Nietzsche) 93–9 God 26, 28, 43, 78–9, 83–4, 92 good/goodness consequentialism 45–9 happiness 49, 103, 111 Nietzsche 95 relative 72 Greek philosophy 11–23, 55, 63–4, 71–2 H happiness 50 ataraxia 71–2
Epicureanism 101  Mill 49, 103, 111 Harm Principle 103 hate 96 Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich 61–2, 66, 89 Marx and 110 Philosophy of History 81–6 reason 69–70 self-knowledge 82–3, 113 Hercules 40 ‘herd morality,’ 96–7 Hinduism 4, 38, 115 history 83–5 History of England (Hume) 24 Hobbes, Thomas 5, 106 contract theory 52, 104–5 human beings 24, 26 human suffering 98 Hume, David 115, 116 on Berkeley’s arguments 66 bundle theory of the mind 56 miracles 24–34 rationality 53, 54 self 57, 58 I Idea Hegel 82–5 reason and 69–70 idealism 61, 63, 64–6 Indian philosophy 4, 11, 63, 64, 67–8, 107 individual, the Epicureanism and 101–3	Hegel on 86  relativism and 73 industrialization 109 integrity 49–50 J job satisfaction 111 Johnson, Dr 65 justice 12 K Kant, Immanuel 5 morality 18, 23 power of reason 54 reason and perception 69 karma 43 Katha Upanishad 41 Kierkegaard, Soren 81 knowledge, see epistemology Krishna 40 L laws of nature 28, 30, 32–3 Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm 42 Lewis, C. S. 91, 92 Locke, John 105 Loka￣yatas 63, 64, 67–8 love 14, 96 Lucretius 64 M Mahabharata 40 majority opinion 15, 17 Marx, Karl 5, 62, 64, 66, 86, 109
material goods 48  materialism 63–4, 66, 67 memory 31–2 mental formations 37, 43 metaphysics 43, 61, 66 dualism 62–3, 66 idealism 63, 64–6 materialism 63–4, 66, 67 meteorology 102 Mill, John Stuart 48, 103, 111–12, 115 miracles 27–34 moksha 38 Moore, G. E. 81 moral relativism 72 morality Kant 18, 23 Nietzsche 94–7 religion and 21 N Nagasena (Buddhist monk)35–45 natural sciences 8–9 natural selection 87–92 Nature 28, 30, 32–3, 82–3, 91, 105 Newton, Isaac 79 Nietzsche, Friedrich 2, 93–9 nirvana 38, 48 no-self doctrine, see five aggregates of Buddhist doctrine O obligations 21, 23	opinions 10, 15, 17  Origin of Species, The (Darwin)87–93 original sin 92 Other, the (Beauvoir) 113 P pain 115 absence of 47–8 parental authority 51 perception 37, 43, 56, 63, 67–8 philosophy definition of 5–6 historical context of 58–60 history of 110 professionalized 116–19 terminology 61 physics 79, 102 physiology 79, 80 pigeons, and artificial selection 88, 89 Plato 60, 105 chariot analogy 41 Crito dialogue 12, 14–21, 38, 45, 46, 51, 74, 104 emphasis on the soul 57 on the family 52 Forms 69, 82 pleasure 46, 47, 101–2, 115 political authority 50–2 power Harm Principle 103 of priests within their community 105 will to 96–7 priesthood 98–9, 105–9
Providence 83  psychoanalysis 93 pyrrhonism 71–2 Q Quintessence 75 R rationalism 66–70 rationality 52–5 reality 69–70, 81–3 Reason 83 Cunning of 84 Descartes 92–3 goals and 54 Hume 26 Ideas and 69–70 reincarnation 38, 44, 115 relativism 72–3 religion belief 26–34, 64, 87, 94 morality and 21 Republic (Plato) 11, 52 reputations 15, 16, 17, 20 retaliation 18, 19 revelations 28 ruling class 95, 97, 99, 107 Russell, Bertrand 81 S salvation 4, 38 Sanchez, Francisco 70 scepticism 2, 3, 55, 70–1 Descartes 70–1, 76, 79 Nietzsche 93–4	scientific knowledge 32–4, 62–3, 102  Scientific Revolution 75 self 37–45, 56–8 self-knowledge 82–3, 93, 113 Sextus Empiricus 71 sexual drive 91 ‘situated’ thought 58 social contracts 50–2 Social Darwinism 91 social reform 48 social value systems 95–7 Socrates 45, 46, 104 Crito dialogue 12, 14–21, 51 historical and literary character 12 integrity of 49 soul 38 trial of 14 Sophist, The (Plato) 12 soul 57, 63, 69 sovereignty 104–5 specialization 9 Spencer, Herbert 89, 91 State, the 104–5 contract theory and 50–2 Stephanus numbering 15 Stoics 71 suffering alleviation of 43 animal 115–16 human 98 suicide 16 supernatural 7 superstitious fear 102 survival of the fittest 89, 91
T  taxation 50 testimonial evidence 28–9 totalitarianism 50 transmigration of souls 115 tropes 71 U undergraduate courses 9 university philosophy departments 9, 118 Upanishads 11, 107 utilitarianism 48–50, 103, 115 V value-systems 95–7	Vedas 11, 107, 109  vegetarianism 116 virtue 12 W wholes 42 will to power concept 96–7 wisdom 15 Wittgenstein, Ludwig 81 women 111–14 Woolston, Thomas 27 working class 109–11 Z Zen Buddhism 3

Page 1, 2, 3, 4

Philosophy: A Very Short Introduction – Edward Craig (from p 67)

Page 1, 2, 3, 4

10. Every subject talks its own talk.

 

In a rough and ready way we all make a distinction between perceivingand thinking. It is one thing to see the objects on your table, notice thatone is a pen and one a computer; it is another thing to think aboutthem, wonder if they still work, or what to do if they don’t. And we areused to the idea that astronomers spend long hours looking at the sky,whereas mathematicians just seem to sit there working things out,feeling no need to look at anything at all except what they themselveshave written down. So here, on the face of it, are two quite differentways of acquiring knowledge. Some philosophers have favoured one ofthem at the expense of the other: ‘empiricism’ is a very general word fordoctrines that favour perceiving over thinking, ‘rationalism’ fordoctrines that favour thinking over perceiving.

There may have been philosophers who held that only what could beperceived could be known, so allowing no cognitive powers at all tothought, inference and reason. Something of much that kind is reportedof the Loka¯yatas, whom we met above in connection with materialism.10. Every subject talks its own talk.

67

According to some reports of their thinking they went even further,saying that only what can be perceived exists. If so (but remember thatall the reports we have were written by their opponents!), they surelyoverreached themselves. Nobody who thinks that knowledge is only ofwhat you have perceived can claim to know that nothing imperceptibleexists, since that isn’t something you could possibly perceive. (It wouldmake as much sense as claiming to be able to hear that nothinginaudible exists.)

An empiricist who holds that only perception yields knowledge neednot be saying that the process of perception itself involves nothought whatever, so that we can have as it were pure perceptionuntainted by any thinking. Even to look at my table and see thatthere is a pen on it requires more of me than just passivelyregistering the light patterns that enter my eyes. I need to know alittle about pens, at the very least about what they look like, andthen bring this knowledge to bear, otherwise I shall no more see apen than does the camera with which we photograph the pen.Perception is interpretative, whereas cameras merely record patternsof light. So a less crude empiricism will allow that classification,thought, inference, and reason all have their legitimate role. But itwill take its stand on the point that they cannot generate a singleitem of knowledge on their own. It may be true that there is nothought-free perception; but it is also true that there is noperception-free knowledge. All claims to knowledge answer, in theend, to perception; it may be possible for them to go beyondperception, but they must start from it.

The empiricist can offer a powerful argument for this view; any wouldberationalist must have an answer ready. In perception we are insome kind of contact with objects around us; they have an effect onour senses. But if we try to think in complete independence ofperception, where is the link between us and the objects we are tryingto think about? For if there is no such link, then there is the world, and

68

here are we thinking away to ourselves. That sounds like a recipe forpure fantasy, perhaps interspersed with the very occasional lucky guess. Let us take a quick look at how three philosophers of strongly rationalist tendencies, Plato, Kant, and Hegel, responded to this challenge.

What reason can tell us, according to Plato, is not directly about theworld of the senses at all, but about eternal, transcendent entitiescalled Ideas or Forms: the Good, the Just, the Equal, the Beautiful.Things we perceive with the senses are good, equal, and so on just inso far as they ‘participate’ in these Forms or approximate to thestandards set by them. But how does Reason get its knowledge of theForms? Plato (as you will know by now if you took my advice to readhis Phaedo as a follow-up to Crito) made use of a belief far fromunknown to ancient Greek thought. The soul has existed before itentered its present body. In that existence it encountered – Plato hintsobscurely at something analogous to perception – the Forms, and inrational thought it is now brought to remember what it then learntof them.

Kant, who was happy to concede far more to empiricism than Plato orHegel, met the challenge in a novel and radical way. Reason cannot tellus anything about things imperceptible – it can only tell us what, ingeneral terms, our experience is bound to be like. And it can do this only because our experience is shaped by our own minds. Reason, operating onits own, is really only telling us how our minds work – which is why itcan do what it does without needing to draw on our perceptions of therest of the world.

Hegel’s response is not unlike Plato’s, in that he begins with a system ofthoughts or universals which he collectively calls ‘The Idea’. This is thedriving force which structures the whole of reality, which includes ourminds and the categories in which we think, as well as the rest of realitywhich is what we are thinking about. That is why we can expect our

69

reason, even when used on its own independently of perception, to bein tune with the world. The reasoning subject and its object share astructure, that of the Idea.

These three examples show us that the opposition between empiricismand rationalism is not a minor skirmish. Those who begin by takingopposite sides at this point can end up worlds apart, metaphysicallyspeaking. But I do not mean to suggest that only rationalism facesdifficulties and empiricism is problem-free. Not so, as we shall soonfind out.

Another much-used ‘ism’ is scepticism. One can be sceptical, of course,about specific things like the probity of the Olympic Committee, theexistence of UFOs, or the value of a low-fat diet, but when ‘scepticism’occurs in philosophical texts it usually refers to something much moregeneral: the rejection of a wide range of claims to knowledge, or doubtsabout a large class of beliefs. It isn’t just their number, of course. Anyscepticism worthy of a place in the history books must be aimed atbeliefs that are actually held, and are held to be important – no medalsare awarded for shelling the desert.

This means that there can be plenty of thought which was sceptical inits own time, but now reads differently. A good example would be QuodNihil Scitur (‘That Nothing is Known’), by the Portuguese philosopher/medic Francisco Sanchez (1551–1623). A more sceptical-sounding title itwould be hard to find, but what follows seems to us not so muchscepticism as a vigorous attack on Aristotelianism, then prevalent butnow long since discredited. When sceptics succeed they cease to looklike sceptics; they look like critics who were right.

Other forms of scepticism have a longer shelf-life. These are the oneswhose targets are perennial human beliefs, or everyday beliefs, or whatis often called common sense. The most famous example of moderntimes occurs at the beginning of Descartes’s Meditations, where we are

70

threatened with the possibility that the senses cannot be relied upon totell us anything whatever about the world, not even that there is one.But Descartes is on the programme for the next chapter, so let us herelook back instead to the school of Pyrrho (roughly: 365–275 bc), sourceof the most developed sceptical philosophy we know. It can all be foundin a single book, Outlines of Pyrrhonism by Sextus Empiricus. Sextus, inhis prime around ad 200, here reports in loving detail the aims,arguments, and conclusions of the system. Happy the movement thatfinds a chronicler like him.

The early pyrrhonists had worked hard. They had catalogued ten‘tropes’, or ways of arguing for their sceptical conclusion that we haveno sufficient grounds for any conviction as to what things are reallylike, as opposed to how they appear to us. Faced with a ‘dogmatist’ –one of the politer names they called people like Aristotelians and Stoicswho claimed to know such things – their favourite strategy was to findsome animal to which things would appear differently, or other humanbeings to whom they appeared differently, or circumstances underwhich they would appear differently to the claimants themselves, andthen to argue that there was no way of resolving the disagreementwithout arbitrarily favouring one viewpoint over the rest. In onepassage Sextus argues that there is no reason to privilege the waysomething seems to a dogmatist over the way it seems to a dog.Readers will occasionally catch him arguing from premisses which asceptic might be expected to find untrustworthy. Perhaps he, and thepyrrhonists, were not always speaking to eternity, but to theircontemporaries – and felt that what they accepted could legitimatelybe used against them.

Nowadays one often hears it asked what the point of a comprehensivescepticism could be – asked rhetorically, with the implication that itcan have no point whatever. But the pyrrhonists certainly thoughtthat their scepticism had a point: the achievement of tranquillity ofmind, untroubledness, ataraxia. They knew a thing or two about

71

peace of mind. If you want to insist on the truth of your point ofview, remember that there is a cost: life is going to be a perpetualintellectual brawl. And if the brawl stays intellectual, you’ll havebeen lucky; especially in religion and politics, these things havebeen known to end in bombs and burnings. I think they knewsomething else as well: moving from how things immediately appearto our senses to what they are really like is a much slower, morehazardous and laborious enterprise than many of their contemporariesrealized.

The pyrrhonists’ favourite sceptical manoeuvre was to remind us thathow a thing appears does not just depend on the thing: it depends onthe condition of the person to whom it appears, and the mediumthrough which it appears. Which ushers in our final ‘ism’: relativism.Relativism is not a specific doctrine, but a type of doctrine – I mightadd, a type much in vogue with intellectuals at the moment. Thegeneral idea is easy to grasp. A moral relativist will hold that there is nosuch thing as good (pure and simple), rather there is good-in-thissociety,good-in-that-society. An aesthetic relativist rejects the idea thatan object might simply be beautiful; we always have to ask ‘Beautiful forwhom, in whose eyes?’ A ‘gastronomic relativist’ won’t be interested inthe question whether pineapple tastes nice – it has to be ‘tastes nice towhom, when, and in combination with what?’ A literary relativistdoesn’t believe that texts have meanings – except at best in the sensethat they have a variety of meanings for a variety of readers, andprobably even for one reader at different times. A relativist aboutrationality will say that what is rational is relative to cultures, with theconsequence (for instance) that it is illegitimate to apply ‘western’scientific standards to traditional African beliefs about witchcraft andpronounce them irrational.

That bunch of examples illustrates a number of points about relativism.One is that the initial plausibility of different cases of relativism varieswidely. Many people will find aesthetic relativism easily acceptable, and

72

some will think that what I have called ‘gastronomic relativism’ isobviously true. That rationality is culture-relative is a much more difficultdoctrine, as is relativism about moral values. These doctrines do not say,remember, that different beliefs are accounted rational in differentsocieties, and different moral values avowed, for this nobody doubts.They say that what these really are can differ from society to society, andthat is about as far from obvious as you can get. So if you hear someonegoing on about relativism without saying relativism about what, give abadly concealed yawn.

The examples illustrate another important point. It isn’t just what theparticular relativism is about, it is also what it relativizes to: theindividual, a society, a culture (there are plenty of multiculturalsocieties), a historical epoch, or what. Those forms of relativism, like the‘gastronomic’, which can plausibly focus on the individual, have a bigadvantage: unlike societies, cultures, and epochs, it is clear where anindividual begins and ends. If Europeans shouldn’t bring their scientificstandards to bear on African beliefs in witchcraft, may they properlybring them to bear on European beliefs in witchcraft? Or only oncontemporary European beliefs in witchcraft? Imagine yourself livingintermingled with a people who, routinely and without moral qualms,abandon unwanted babies and leave them to die. (Such societies haveexisted.) Could you just say ‘Oh, fine. That’s what they think, that’s theirmoral culture, ours is different’, as if it were like ‘They speak French andwe speak English’? Bitter experience suggests that many people areunlikely to find it that easy.

I would be a bad guide if I left you with the impression that a shortparagraph can dispose of moral and intellectual relativism, just likethat. Be aware, though, that in several areas relativism is in for a roughride. The ride is rough theoretically, because of the difficulty of statingclearly just what relativism does and doesn’t say; and it is roughpractically, because of the difficulty of standing by it when the crunchcomes.

73

Chapter 7

Some more high spots

A personal selection

In Chapters 2, 3, and 4 we looked closely at three pieces of philosophicalwriting. In this chapter I briefly introduce a few more of my favourites.The selection is personal – another author would very likely have madequite different choices. And it can only be a few. But be assured thatthere are plenty more, indeed that however much you read, there willstill be plenty more.

Descartes: Discourse on the Method

In Chapter 2 I remarked that, whereas the ethical discussion presentedin Plato’s Crito could almost have taken place yesterday, Plato’scosmology takes us back to a completely different world. True – but weneedn’t go back that far; four centuries will be enough. In 1600 it was,admittedly, over fifty years since Copernicus had offered hisreplacement for the old Ptolemaic astronomy, moving the sun to thecentre of the solar system and letting the Earth, now just one of anumber of similar planets, circle round it. But few believed him. Galileo(1564–1642) had not yet begun publicly to champion his cause, andwhen he did so by no means everybody believed him.

It was not just that the Earth was displaced from its proud position inthe centre. In fact it wasn’t really that at all, since according to what wewould now call the physics of the day the centre was not a very

74

desirable place to be: it was where the basest matter tended tocongregate, the cosmic rubbish tip one might almost say. Other factorswere far more important. Passages in the Bible appear to maintain thatthe Earth is stationary; here was an individual prepared to reject or atleast reinterpret those passages on the basis of his own reasoningwithout reference or deference to proper authority. Besides, theclaims made by Copernicus, let alone Galileo, were in conflict with the(neo-Aristotelian) physics and cosmology that held sway in theuniversities.

For an Aristotelian, the baser kinds of matter are earth and water. Unlikethe other two kinds, air and fire, they naturally strive towards the centreof the universe. So a spherical mass of earth and water has formedthere, and this is the Earth. (However often you hear it said, it just isn’ttrue that the medievals believed that the Earth was flat!) But the Moon,the Sun, the planets and stars don’t consist of this sort of matter at all,not even air and fire. They are made of the Quintessence – the fifthelement – incorruptible and unchanging, and all they do is go round incircles, eternally, in godlike serenity. Now the new astronomy wants toblow this distinction away: however things may look and feel fromwhere we are standing, the Earth is itself in the heavens; and theheavenly bodies are not utterly set apart, but are as much properobjects of scientific investigation as the Earth itself. On top of which thenew scientists want to replace explanations couched in terms of naturesand goals with talk of the particles of which things are composed, andof mechanical causation governed by mathematical laws.

All this represented catastrophic intellectual change on several levels atonce. It is often called The Scientific Revolution, a name which capturesits magnitude, but wrongly suggests that it happened quickly. Nowonder that it was accompanied by a rise of scepticism. For if the best ofreceived wisdom, with 2,000 years of triumphant history, was nowseen to be failing, a natural reaction was to despair of humanknowledge altogether and call off the hunt.

75

René Descartes (1596–1650) viewed Aristotelianism as a time-hallowedsystem of errors. So did the sceptics, but unlike them he also took it tobe an obstacle – an obstacle to human knowledge of nature, likescepticism itself. So he conceived an ambitious plan. (Had he known justhow ambitious he might have stopped in his tracks there and then – sowe should be grateful that he didn’t.) By going back to a point at whichno doubt was even possible and then rebuilding human knowledge byunmistakable steps he would fight his way clear of scepticism, andpresumably of Aristotelianism as well, since he had no expectation thathis reconstruction would lead back in that old, worn, faltering direction.Then he would illustrate the value of this heroic Great Escape of thehuman intellect by demonstrable progress in the sciences: optics,physics, physiology, and meteorology were all topics that he wroteabout.

The Discourse on the Method of rightly using one’s Reason (1637) is not Descartes’s most famous work – that title surely goes to his Meditations(1641). But it has the advantage of giving the reader, in very briefcompass, a taste of most of Descartes’s thought, including veryimportantly an autobiographical account of the circumstances andmotivation from which his whole project arose.

So set aside a couple of hours – easily enough – and begin bysympathizing with Descartes’s frustration when formal education lefthim feeling that ‘I had gained nothing . . . but increasing recognition ofmy ignorance’ and that there was ‘no such knowledge in the world as Ihad previously been led to hope for’. Admittedly, there is value in someof what he has been taught, and he gives a sentence each to theadvantages of languages, history, mathematics, oratory, and poetry –though the latter two are ‘more gifts of the mind than fruits of study’.As for philosophy, its chief ‘advantage’ is that it enables us to ‘speakplausibly about any subject and win the admiration of the lesslearned’ – so much for scholastic Aristotelianism. So the minute he isold enough he chucks it all in and goes travelling, joining in the wars

76

which were boiling away in Europe at this time. Perhaps men of actionwill have more truth to offer than the scholars; after all, theirmisjudgements really do rebound on them, whereas those of thescholars have no practical consequences and can be false with impunity.

One thing he learns on his travels is how much customs differ fromplace to place, people to people – as he pointedly says, there is as muchvariety as in the opinions of the philosophers – so he had better not relyon anything he has learnt only through ‘custom and example’. At thisstage many people (and nowadays even more than then) might slip intoa forlorn scepticism or a lazy relativism. But not this one. Descartes’sreaction is that if he is to avoid living under the misguidance of falseopinions then once in his life he should dismantle his entire beliefsystemand construct it anew. Which he intends to try – and on his ownwhat’s more.

One has to be amazed at the audacity of this unflinchingly positiveresponse to the crisis that Descartes, doubtless along with many lessarticulate or less self-confident contemporaries, was experiencing. If,that is, we believe that he really meant it – but I know no good reason tothink that he didn’t. In Part 2 of the Discourse we see him striving toreassure any readers who may take him for a social, political, ortheological reformer: ‘No threat to any public institution, it’s only myown beliefs that I’m going to overhaul.’ (Prudent, and a nice try, but notaltogether convincing, is it? As if he weren’t going to recommend hisrenovated belief-system to anyone else!) Then in Part 3 he takes steps toensure that his life can keep ticking over while his beliefs are suspended,for ‘before starting to rebuild your house you must provide yourselfwith somewhere to live while building is in progress’. So he will simplygo along, non-committally, with the most sensible and moderate viewsand behaviour he finds around him. It is a modified version of what hewould have found in Sextus Empiricus’ report of the recommendationsof the ancient sceptics – who faced the same problem permanently,since they had no intention of rebuilding.

77

Some more high spotsHow is demolition to proceed, and where will Descartes find hisfoundations? At the start of Part 4 he suddenly feigns to go all shy:perhaps he should bypass this bit, as being ‘too metaphysical anduncommon for everyone’s taste’. But then he tells us anyway. What weget in Part 4 is a high-speed résumé of his best-known work, the Meditations on First Philosophy.

First, suspend any belief about which you can think of the slightestgrounds for doubt. (Don’t bother about whether these grounds actuallydo make you feel doubtful – mostly they won’t, but that could just be afact about you.) Since your senses have sometimes deceived you,consider the possibility that they might deceive you at any time, indeedthat they might deceive you all the time – that they have no more statusthan a dream or an hallucination. But what about your belief that youare now thinking? Here doubt really does run dry, because doubtingwhether you are thinking is another case of thinking – the doubt defeatsitself. And if I am thinking, Descartes reflects, then I must exist – wehave reached the notorious Cogito ergo sum.

You may well wonder how Descartes is to rebuild anything on the basisof what little has survived so fierce a test. But he isn’t cowed by the task.He has found that his grasp of his own existence is absolutely secure.But he can raise doubts about everything else, even his own body. So he(his mind, soul, self) must be something else, distinct from his body,and capable of existing without it. The body is one thing, the mindanother – this is the famous (or infamous) Cartesian dualism that wesaw in Chapter 6 (p. 62).

In the next step Descartes observes that he has the idea of a perfectbeing, God, so the question arises: how did he get the ability to thinksuch a thought? As he points out elsewhere, if you had in mind the planof an extremely intricate machine we would think that either you were asuperb engineer yourself or had got the plan from someone who was.And since Descartes knows that he is far from perfect himself he

78

reckons his idea of a perfect being can’t come from him, but only from abeing that is actually perfect. That idea in his mind is the signature leftby his creator.

Many readers will feel that Descartes’s idea of a perfect being is far toohazy, imprecise, and in a word imperfect to need anything more thanDescartes for its cause. But he held the existence of God to be proved,and took a further step: what he believes when he has achieved theutmost clarity of which he is capable must be true. For otherwise hisGod-given faculties would be misleading in principle, which would makeGod a deceiver, and hence imperfect. So if scepticism says that even ourvery best efforts might lead us to falsehood, just dismiss it.

In Part 5 we are back with autobiography. Descartes turns to hisscientific work, things which he had earlier ‘endeavoured to explain ina treatise which certain considerations prevent me from publishing’.These ‘considerations’ were in fact the condemnation of Galileo’swritings by the Church, as Descartes makes clearer (though withoutmentioning names) in Part 6. There he offers reasons for his decision,and for his further decision to present some of his results in theDiscourse after all. The reasons are fairly convoluted, and don’twholly dispel the suspicion that the case of Galileo had justfrightened him off.

At this stage one of those unfortunate little things happens. Descarteswas a notable mathematician, and no mean performer in physics. True,the work of Isaac Newton (1642–1727) wiped his physics off the maptowards the end of the century, though not before Newton himself hadaccepted it and attempted to work within it until his late thirties. Butthe main example he selects for Part 5 is his theory about how thehuman heart works, and this nowadays sounds just plain quaint andfanciful – he believes it to be much hotter than any other part of thebody, and makes it sound like a distillery in action. (All it distils is blood,some readers may be disappointed to learn.)

79

11. Descartes as physiologist – a naked Cartesian understandably feeling a bit chilly.

 

In spite (or partly because) of this glitch the Discourse is a rich andmemorable work. An eminent founder of modern thought grappleswith himself, Aristotelianism, scepticism, academic reaction, public andecclesiastical opinion, physics, cosmology, and physiology, all in aboutfifty pages. Now that I call a real feast.

80

Hegel: Introduction to the Philosophy of History

We encountered Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770–1831) in Chapter6, though only briefly. His influence has been massive; we shall see twoexamples of it in the next and final chapter, but important as they arethey can give only the barest inkling of the extent of the Hegelphenomenon.And the opposition to him started two very significantmovements: existentialism, through the Danish thinker SørenKierkegaard, and in Britain the analytic school through Moore, BertrandRussell, and the young Ludwig Wittgenstein. It took heavyweights withan alternative on offer to take people’s minds off Hegel, and then theeffect was only partial, local, and temporary.

But there is another reason for introducing a work by Hegel at thispoint. Nearly all the philosophy we have looked at so far begins fromwhat are relatively ordinary, everyday considerations. (Socrates: whatwill happen to my children if I do what my friends are suggesting?Hume: you can’t always believe what other people tell you. Descartes:when there’s so much disagreement between the authorities, what canwe do but go back to basics and start again?) Hegel’s thought in thePhilosophy of History, in contrast, arises out of a grand vision of realityand the forces that move it – this is heavy-duty metaphysics.

Hegel is often said to be a very difficult philosopher. I won’t deny it – ifyou select a page at random and read it from top to bottom you willprobably feel that you might just as well have read it from bottom totop. But one of the most valuable experiences for someone coming newto his philosophy is that of finding how much easier things are if youapproach the text with the grand metaphysical vision already in mind.The big picture is the key, so we begin by trying to get some grasp of it.Remember that I warned you back in Chapter 1 to expect to find somephilosophy weird. You will find Hegel’s less weird, even if you still don’tbelieve a word of it, after you have read the Introduction to thePhilosophy of History. Here goes.

81

We start with something called ‘The Idea’. Think of it as being ratherlike the Ideas of Plato – a system of abstract universals from whichthings and events in the world take their shapes and natures. But itdiffers from Plato in two important ways. First, it is a highly structuredsystem, and its structure is in a certain sense developmental. I say ‘in acertain sense’ because the Idea doesn’t happen in time, one bit afteranother; Hegel’s doctrine is rather that it embodies a natural order ofthought, so that the thought of one element inexorably leads the mindto another, and the thought of those two to a third, and so on until thewhole system is revealed.

The second big difference is that whereas Plato speaks as if his Ideasexist independently of anything else, Hegel’s Idea can exist only ifsomething embodies it. So there has to be ‘Nature’ – the familiarcollection of concrete objects that surround us. And Nature, since itexists in order to embody the Idea, reflects all the Idea’s properties. The‘development’, which in the Idea was metaphorical, makes a literalappearance in the changing patterns of Nature.

So the Idea and Nature are very closely related: each is a form of theother. But at the same time they are so different that you might wellthink of them as opposites. The Idea is abstract, and neither temporalnor spatial, whereas Nature is spatio-temporal and concrete. The Idea iscomposed of universals, general concepts, whereas Nature comprisesmyriads of particular things. And it is material, which the Idea iscertainly not. Hegel now uses this situation – the existence of oppositeswhich are nevertheless in a sense the same thing – as the starting-pointfor a deeply characteristic move.

Suppose that you want to know something about yourself, say, whatyou really think about some question or other. Should you sit downmeditatively and try to introspect your own thoughts? No – you will justthink you see whatever you wanted to see. You should do something,make something, write something, in general produce something that

82

expresses you, your own work – and look at it. That is what will tell youabout yourself.

Good advice, and nothing especially new. (‘By our works shall we knowourselves.’) But Hegel now makes a very surprising (and rather obscure)use of it. He holds, remember, that Nature is the concrete expression ofthe Idea. So the Idea is confronted by its own work, and the situation isripe for it to start to understand itself. Thus is born what Hegel callsGeist, usually translated ‘spirit’ – consciousness, awareness. Humanminds are its vehicle, but what is really happening in them is that theIdea is gradually moving towards full self-understanding. (OK, I told youthat this was my example of high-altitude metaphysics!) There’s moreto come: Hegel believes that the whole purpose of reality is preciselythis, that the Idea should come to full knowledge of its own nature. Andthis is to happen in us, in the minds of the human race. No philosopherhas ever cast us in a more prestigious role. Indeed, could there be one?This is the high-water mark of human self-assessment.

So what of history? History begins only when there are conscious beingsand something one might call a culture, that is to say when we havereached Hegel’s Stage 3 – Spirit or Geist. History is driven by Reason, theIdea: Hegel makes no bones of announcing this as established fact,something which philosophy (his own philosophy) has shown. Inhistory, the Idea is working out its rational purposes.

If you find this thought rather alien, remember that to most of Hegel’saudience it would have sounded quite familiar; it is a close relative ofsomething they had been brought up to accept. Providence is at work.Behind all the mundane detail of life, God is realizing his aims. In spite ofeverything, Good is gradually defeating Evil. All is for the best. Thatthought is familiar to all of us, including those of us who snort at it.What makes Hegel’s version of it feel unfamiliar is, first, his conceptionof ‘the best’ – the Idea, the force that drives it all, comes to fullknowledge of its own nature – and second, his highly intellectualized

83

account of what is doing the driving – not a personal God or deifiedSuperman, but the Idea, something like a system of Platonic forms. Atheology student in his youth, Hegel knows perfectly well how topresent this as a version of the orthodox Christian story (in fact hethinks he is improving on it); and he can preach with the best of them,as you’ll quickly discover as you read.

But history, surely, is driven by the actions of human beings? And theyhave their own human schemes, interests, and motives – one thing theyaren’t trying to do is ensure that the Idea comes to perfect selfknowledge.(How could they be? Most of them have never even heard ofit.) Now we meet a famous doctrine: the Cunning of Reason. Withouttheir knowledge, the Idea (or Reason) really is at work, influencing anddirecting them towards its own ends.

So is there an external force, like the ancient Fates, looking down on usand manipulating our lives? No, Hegel’s view is subtler and lesssuperstitious than that. Remember that our minds, in Hegel’s grandplan, do embody the Idea, but not yet with any clear consciousnessof it. (Think of the way a gene – Hegel much approved of organicmetaphors – ‘contains’ the adult organism, but will only show itgradually in the process of growth and development.) Because there isthis something within us, active though obscure, we can consciouslypursue our own limited and individual ends and purposes whilst reallyserving the turn of Reason.

The Idea, now as Spirit or Geist, directs the course of history through thewill of ‘world-historical individuals’ (the famous people you read aboutin history books). Their feeling for the requirements of Spirit is a littlemore advanced than that of their contemporaries, their dissatisfactionwith the present state of things slightly sharper and better focused.Hegel describes them (never let anyone tell you he couldn’t write!):‘They do not find their aims and vocation in the calm and regular systemof the present . . . they draw their inspiration from another source, that

84

hidden spirit whose hour is near but which still lies beneath the surfaceand seeks to break out’. These are the leaders who change the world,unite nations, create empires, found political institutions. And once thenew state of things exists, the society or nation comes face to face withsomething it has itself produced – the situation that advances selfunderstanding,remember – and finds out a little more about its ownreal aspirations.

It also finds out more about the problems they bring with them. For astart, these transitions from one state to another rarely happensmoothly, without conflict and struggle. What Hegel calls ‘the calm andregular system of the present’ always has its appeal, especially for thosein whom the subliminal awareness of Spirit’s next move is undeveloped.These become the reactionaries who resist the world-historicalindividual’s striving for change; they are opposed by those of a slightlymore advanced state of consciousness, who gather behind the leader,sensing that the new direction is the right one.

Only right for now, however. Remember that the strange thing fromwhich we began, the Idea, involves development, in a figurative sense. Everything that exists or happens reflects the Idea, and that of courseincludes history, which exhibits the Idea’s ‘development’, but now in aliteral sense. The Idea, as you will find if you ever read Hegel’s Logic (butbe warned, it is desperately hard work), always develops through theconflict of opposed concepts followed by their resolution, which itselfturns out to harbour another opposition, upon which a furtherresolution follows, and so on until the entire system is complete. So it is,therefore, in the political sphere. Conflict issues in a new order, butbefore too long the new order itself is showing strains; the seeds of thenext conflict were already present in it, and once they mature it is sweptaway in its turn. You may find the metaphysics with which Hegelunderpins all this extravagant, wild, and woolly, but when he applies itto human history the result certainly isn’t stupid. It is this idea ofprogress arising out of conflict which is known as ‘dialectic’. It pervades

85

12. Progress through conflict: the storming of the Bastille. Hegel was 19 when the French Revolution occurred – it made an impression.

 

the thought of Hegel, but equally that of Marx, which is why Marx’sphilosophy is often called ‘dialectical materialism’ (see above p. 64,and below p. 110).

Notice that there is very little comfort here for the individual. The Ideais to come to self-knowledge, and this it must do in human minds,which are the only vehicle around, but no particular human mind is ofany concern to it whatever. History throws individuals away once theyhave served their turn. That is even, or especially, true of worldhistoricalindividuals: ‘their end attained they fall aside like emptyhusks’. Julius Caesar did his bit – and was assassinated. Napoleondid his – then was defeated, captured, and sent to rot on Elba. Anindividual is no more than a dispensable instrument. God, supposedly,loves each one of us, but the Idea couldn’t care less, so long as thereare some of us, and they are doing its business. So it is hard to seeHegelianism becoming a popular mass philosophy, for all its hugeinfluence.

86

Charles Darwin: The Origin of Species

The first thing we can learn from this fascinating book is not to bothertoo much about drawing a neat sharp line between philosophy andscience. The point is not that the line isn’t sharp, although I believe thatto be true. The point is that the line (if it exists) is not of muchimportance for philosophy. On any reasonable way of drawing itDarwin’s Origin is science, more specifically biology. But because of itssubject-matter, and the claims it makes, very few books have hadgreater philosophical impact. For it implies a startling thesis about usand how we have come to be as we are. It may not startle us today, butit startled most of his contemporaries to the point of shock; and thereare still a number of people trying to perform the difficult balancing actof rejecting it without appearing merely ignorant and prejudiced.

In one sense The Origin of Species does much more than ‘imply’ thestartling thesis: it builds a very carefully constructed case for it, backedby a wealth of thoughtfully assessed evidence. Darwin was not the firstperson to propose the theory of natural selection (he tells you a little ofthe history of the idea in his own introduction to the book), but he wasthe first to assemble so much evidence for it and so honestly to confrontthe difficulties it faces. If prior to 1859 you wanted to reject the viewthat species were mutable, and developed out of other species, and thatour own species was no exception, it was easy: just say ‘No’. It conflictedwith your other (deeply held) beliefs, many experts opposed it, andthere existed no serious and plausible statement of the case for it. After1859 it wasn’t easy at all – though of course there were plenty of peoplewho didn’t notice.

In another sense, however, ‘imply’ is exactly the right word: Darwingave no prominence (in this book) to his opinion that just as much asany other species humanity falls under the general theory. Readers whoreach the last chapter – or jump to it – will there find, discreetly placedand well apart, two or three unmistakable sentences. Otherwise,

87

Some more high spotssilence. A common mistake is to call the book Origin of the Species,presumably supposing that we are the species in question. Absolutelynot: There is almost nothing about us.

Plenty about pigeons, in fact half of chapter 1. They lend themselvesperfectly to Darwin’s strategy: start from a case in which it is totallyuncontroversial that a breed can be altered by selection – the breeder’sselection of which birds to allow to mate with which. (Unsurprisingly,there’s also a lot about cattle and sheep and racehorses; prize dahliasget a mention too.) But that doesn’t take Darwin quite as far as hewants to go, because it is perfectly possible to reply that humanbreeders can only make quite slight changes, so that all the strikinglydifferent breeds of pigeon, though modified by human practice, must inthe first place have come each from birds of its own particular species –they are just too different to have descended all of them from one typeof bird. Surely?

Now Darwin’s judgement is at its best. He doesn’t try to prove hispoint, but just shows that anyone opposing it will have a lot moretalking to do. If there was an original fantail pigeon, where is it nowfound in the wild? Well, perhaps it has become extinct, or livessomewhere frightfully remote. And how about the other distinctivebreeds that pigeon-fanciers are interested in – where are their wildrelatives? And what of the fact that within these breeds oneoccasionally finds individuals that closely match the complex colouringof a type of pigeon that does exist in the wild nowadays? So is it thatall today’s distinctive breeds had ancestors of the same colouring(although they were distinct species), and are now all either extinct inthe wild or at least have never been observed? Well, well, how verysurprising . . .

So if it is probable that artificial selection can produce such effects in arelatively short time, is there any natural principle of selection thatmight produce effects of similar magnitude, and perhaps of far greater

88

magnitude, given an enormously longer time to work in? Yes, becausethe ‘struggle for existence’ (about which Darwin writes a veryinteresting chapter) eliminates many individuals before they are able toreproduce. A fantail pigeon will probably mate only if it catches the eyeof the breeder; a wild pigeon will not mate unless it withstands thestruggle for existence long enough to reach maturity. What is beingselected for is in the two cases utterly different. In the second case it isthe capacity to withstand the local environmental/ecologicalconditions, and if these should become harsh the selection process willbe brutally efficient.

Once thoughts like these have brought us to see that very substantialchange is possible, indeed positively likely, and when we recall (whatwas only just becoming clear to geologists when Darwin was a youngman) that these processes may have been going on for an almostunthinkable length of time, certain observations strike one differently,like those Darwin offers in one of the very few sentences in whichhuman beings figure: ‘The framework of bones being the same in thehand of a man, wing of a bat, fin of the porpoise, and leg of the horse –the same number of vertebrae forming the neck of the giraffe and ofthe elephant . . . at once explain themselves on the theory of descentwith slow and slight successive modifications.’

The nineteenth-century enthusiasm for progress, to which thephilosophy of Hegel gave such momentum, predisposed many tounderstand Darwin as part of the same progressivist movement. Hisyounger contemporary Herbert Spencer (1820–1903), a man of a muchmore metaphysical, even somewhat Hegelian turn of mind, really waspart of it. He was the inventor of the overworked phrase ‘the survival ofthe fittest’, which can easily be understood as implying that those whosurvive in the struggle for existence are superior to those who do not.He himself seems to have taken it like that, for in the name of progresshe opposed anything that would lessen the intensity of the struggle,like social welfare arrangements.

89

13. Another variation on a theme much favoured by Victorian cartoonists. Darwin’s message wasn’t to be digested quickly.

 

 

Page 1, 2, 3, 4

Philosophy: A Very Short Introduction – Edward Craig

Page 1, 2, 3, 4

Philosophy: A Very Short Introduction
“This is a lively and interesting introduction to philosophy. Despite its
brevity Philosophy: A Very Short Introduction addresses many of the
central philosophical questions in an engaging and thought-provoking
style. At the same time it gives readers a flavour of some of the greatest
works of philosophy and provides expert guidance for those who want
to read the original works themselves. Edward Craig is already famous
as the editor of the best long work on philosophy (the Routledge
Encyclopedia); now he deserves to become even better known
as the author of one of the best short ones.”
Nigel Warburton, The Open University

Very Short Introductions are for anyone wanting a stimulating
and accessible way in to a new subject. They are written by experts, and have
been published in more than 25 languages worldwide.
The series began in 1995, and now represents a wide variety of topics
in history, philosophy, religion, science, and the humanities. Over the next
few years it will grow to a library of around 200 volumes – a Very Short
Introduction to everything from ancient Egypt and Indian philosophy to
conceptual art and cosmology.

Edward Craig

Philosophy

A Very Short Introduction

Oxford – University Press

Oxford – University Press

Great Clarendon Street, Oxford ox2 6dp
Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford.
It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship,
and education by publishing worldwide in
Oxford New York
Auckland Bangkok Buenos Aires Cape Town Chennai
Dar es Salaam Delhi Hong Kong Istanbul Karachi Kolkata
Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Mumbai Nairobi
São Paulo Shanghai Taipei Tokyo Toronto
Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press
in the UK and in certain other countries
Published in the United States
by Oxford University Press Inc., New York
© Edward Craig 2002
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
Database right Oxford University Press (maker)
First published as an Oxford University Press paperback 2002
First published as a Very Short Introduction 2002
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means,
without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press,
or as expressly permitted by law, or under terms agreed with the appropriate
reprographics rights organizations. Enquiries concerning reproduction
outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department,
Oxford University Press, at the address above
You must not circulate this book in any other binding or cover
and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
Data available
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Data available
ISBN 0–19–285421–6
5 7 9 10 8 6
Typeset by RefineCatch Ltd, Bungay, Suffolk
Printed in Great Britain by
TJ International Ltd., Padstow, Cornwall

 

 

Contents

List of illustrations    ix

1 Philosophy : A very short introduction 1

2 What should I do? Plato’s Crito 11

3 How do we know? Hume’s Of Miracles 24

4 What am I? An unknown Buddhist on the self: King Milinda’s chariot 35

5 Some themes  45

6 Of ’eisms’ 61

7 Some more high spots: A personal selection  74

8 What’s in it for whom? 100

Bibliography  119

Where to go next

Index  127

List of illustrations

1.    Boethius listens to the words of the Lady Philosophy6©Wallace Collection/Bridgeman Art Library2.    Socrates was depicted by Aristophanes as an eccentric in a basket 13 © AKG London 3.     Socrates takes the hemlock from the gaoler 22 ©Wolfe Collection, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York; photo Erich Lessing/AKG London 4.    Hume was smarter than he looked 25 © Mary Evans Picture Library 5.    The Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes 31 ©Dagli Orti/the art archive 6.    The image of the chariot: Arjuna and Krishna 40 © H. Lute/Trip 7.    The image of the chariot: Hercules and Athena 40 © Ancient Art & Architecture Collection 8.    Marble head of Epicurus 47 © British Museum/BridgemanArt Library 9. Beyond the family, anything goes 53 ©Punch

10.  Every subject talks its own talk 67 © http://www.CartoonStock.com11.  Descartes as physiologist 80©AKG London 12.  Progre ss through conflict 86 © Mary Evans Picture Library 13.  Darwin’s message wasn’t to be digested quickly 90 ©Down House/Bridgeman Art Library 14.  What to blow up next? 97 ©AKG London 15.  Epicureanism in practice? 102 © J. King/Trip 16.  Hobbes’s Leviathan rises out of the English countryside 106 © By permission of the British Library 17.  The Raja consults his priests 108 © V&A Picture Library 18. The author and his wares 117 Photograph: Simon Blackburn 19.  Philosophy class 118 © Punch

Chapter 1

Philosophy

A very short introduction

 

Anyone reading this book is to some extent a philosopher already. Nearly all of us are, because we have some kind of values by which we live our lives (or like to think we do, or feel uncomfortable when we don’t). And most of us favour some very general picture of what the world is like. Perhaps we think there’s a god who made it all, including us; or, on the contrary, we think it’s all a matter of chance and natural selection. Perhaps we believe that people have immortal, non-material parts called souls or spirits; or, quite the opposite, that we are just complicated arrangements of matter that gradually fall to bits after we die. So most of us, even those who don’t think about it at all, have something like answers to the two basic philosophical questions, namely: what should we do? and, what is there? And there’s a third basic question, to which again most of us have some kind of an answer, which kicks in the moment we get self-conscious about either of the first two questions, namely: how do we know, or if we don’t know how should we set about finding out – use our eyes, think, consult an oracle, ask a scientist? Philosophy, thought of as a subject that you can study, be ignorant of, get better at, even be an expert on, simply means being rather more reflective about some of these questions and their interrelations, learning what has already been said about them and why.

In fact philosophy is extremely hard to avoid, even with a conscious effort. Consider someone who rejects it, telling us that ‘Philosophy is

1

useless’. For a start, they are evidently measuring it against some system of values. Secondly, the moment they are prepared to say, however briefly and dogmatically, why it is useless, they will be talking about the ineffectuality of certain types of thought, or of human beings’ incapacity to deal with certain types of question. And then instead of
rejecting philosophy they will have become another voice within it – a sceptical voice, admittedly, but then philosophy has never been short of sceptical voices, from the earliest times to the present day. We shall meet some of them in Chapter 6.

If they take the second of those lines, they may also be implying that making the discovery that human beings just can’t cope with certain kinds of question, and making that discovery for yourself – and actually making it, rather than just lazily assuming that you know it already – isn’t a valuable experience, or is an experience without effects. Surely that cannot be true? Imagine how different the world would have been if we were all convinced that human beings just aren’t up to answering any questions about the nature or even existence of a god, in other words, if all human beings were religious agnostics. Imagine how different it would have been if we were all convinced that there was no answer to the question of what legitimates the political authority that states habitually exercise over their members, in other words, if none of us believed that there was any good answer to the anarchist. It may well be controversial whether the differences would have been for the good, or for the bad, or whether in fact they wouldn’t have mattered as much as you might at first think; but that there would have been differences, and very big ones, is surely beyond question. That how people think alters things, and that how lots of people think alters things for nearly everyone, is undeniable. A more sensible objection to philosophy than that it is ineffectual is pretty much the opposite: that it is too dangerous. (Nietzsche, see pp. 93–99, called a philosopher ‘a terrible explosive from which nothing is safe’ – though he didn’t mean that as an objection.) But what this usually means is that any philosophy is dangerous except the speaker’s

2

own, and what it amounts to is fear of what might happen if things change.

It might occur to you that perhaps there are people who don’t even think it worthwhile to enter into this discussion at all, however briefly, not even to support the sceptical stance that I have just mentioned. And you would be right, but that doesn’t mean to say that they don’t have a philosophy. Far from it. It may mean that they are not prepared to ‘philosophize’ – to state their views and argue for them or discourse upon them. But it doesn’t mean that they have no abiding values, nothing which they systematically regard as worthwhile. They might think, for instance, that real expertise at doing something is more desirable than any amount of theoretical knowledge. Their ideal would not so much be insight into the nature of reality as the capacity to become one with it in the execution of some particular activity, to have trained oneself to do something without conscious effort as if by a perfectly honed natural instinct. I am not just making these people up: a lot of Zen Buddhist thought, or perhaps I should say Zen Buddhist practice, leans strongly in this direction. And this ideal, of aiming at a certain kind of thoughtlessness, was the outcome of a great deal of previous thinking.

If philosophy is so close to us, why do so many people think that it is something very abstruse and rather weird? It isn’t that they are simply wrong: some philosophy is abstruse and weird, and a lot of the best philosophy is likely to seem abstruse or weird at first. That’s because the best philosophy doesn’t just come up with a few new facts that we can simply add to our stock of information, or a few new maxims to extend our list of dos and don’ts, but embodies a picture of the world and/or a set of values; and unless these happen to be yours already (remember that in a vague and unreflective way we all have them) it is bound to seem very peculiar – if it doesn’t seem peculiar you haven’t understood it. Good philosophy expands your imagination. Some philosophy is close to us, whoever we are. Then of course some is further away, and

3

some is further still, and some is very alien indeed. It would be disappointing if that were not so, because it would imply that human beings are intellectually rather monotonous. But there’s no need to start at the deep end; we start at the shallow end, where (as I’ve said) we are all standing in the water already. Do remember, however (here the analogy with the swimming-pool leaves me in the lurch, the way analogies often do), that this doesn’t necessarily mean that we are all standing in the same place: what is shallow and familiar, and what is deep and weird, may depend on where you got in, and when.

We may be standing in the water, but why try to swim? In other words, what is philosophy for? There is far too much philosophy, composed under far too wide a range of conditions, for there to be a general answer to that question. But it can certainly be said that a great deal of philosophy has been intended as (understanding the words very broadly) a means to salvation, though what we are to understand by salvation, and salvation from what, has varied as widely as the philosophies themselves. A Buddhist will tell you that the purpose of philosophy is the relief of human suffering and the attainment of ‘enlightenment’; a Hindu will say something similar, if in slightly different terminology; both will speak of escape from a supposed cycle of death and rebirth in which one’s moral deserts determine one’s future forms. An Epicurean (if you can find one nowadays) will poohpooh all the stuff about rebirth, but offer you a recipe for maximizing pleasure and minimizing suffering in this your one and only life.

Not all philosophy has sprung out of a need for a comprehensive way of living and dying. But most of the philosophy that has lasted has arisen from some pressing motivation or deeply felt belief – seeking truth and wisdom purely for their own sakes may be a nice idea, but history suggests that a nice idea is pretty much all it is. Thus classical Indian philosophy represents the internal struggle between the schools of Hinduism, and between them all and the Buddhists, for intellectual supremacy; the battle for the preferred balance between human reason

4

and scriptural revelation has been fought in many cultures, and in some is still going on; Thomas Hobbes’s famous political theory (we shall be seeing more of it later) tries to teach us the lessons he felt had to be learnt in the aftermath of the English Civil War; Descartes and many of his contemporaries wanted medieval views, rooted nearly two thousand years back in the work of Aristotle, to move aside and make room for a modern conception of science; Kant sought to advance the autonomy of the individual in the face of illiberal and autocratic regimes, Marx to liberate the working classes from poverty and drudgery, feminists of all epochs to improve the status of women. None of these people were just solving little puzzles (though they did sometimes have to solve little puzzles on the way); they entered into debate in order to change the course of civilization.

The reader will notice that I haven’t made any attempt to define philosophy, but have just implied that it is an extremely broad term covering a very wide range of intellectual activities. Some think that nothing is to be gained from trying to define it. I can sympathize with that thought, since most attempts strike me as much too restrictive, and therefore harmful rather than helpful in so far as they have any effect at all. But I will at least have a shot at saying what philosophy is; whether what I have to offer counts as a definition or not is something about which we needn’t, indeed positively shouldn’t, bother too much.

Once, a very long time ago, our ancestors were animals, and simply did whatever came naturally without noticing that that was what they were doing, or indeed without noticing that they were doing anything at all. Then, somehow, they acquired the capacities to ask why things happen (as opposed to just registering that they do), and to look at themselves and their actions. That is not as big a jump as may at first sight appear. Starting to ask why things happen is in the first place only a matter of becoming a little more conscious of aspects of one’s own behaviour. A hunting animal that follows a scent is acting as if aware that the scent is

5

1. In this Renaissance painting Boethius (c.ad 480–525) listens to the
words of the Lady Philosophy. The Consolation of Philosophy is his most
famous book, and consolation was what he needed as he awaited
execution. But philosophy has had many purposes besides this one.

there because its prey has recently passed that way – and it is because that really is why the scent is there that it often succeeds in its hunt. Knowledge of this sort of connection can be very useful: it tells us what to expect. Furthermore, to know that A happens because B happened may improve your control over things: in some cases B will be something that you can bring about, or prevent – which will be very useful if A is something you want, or want to avoid. Many of these connections animals, humans included, follow naturally and unconsciously. And the practice, once one is aware of it, can valuably be extended by consciously raising such questions in cases where we do not have conveniently built-in answers.

There could be no guarantee, however, that this generally valuable tendency would always pay off, let alone always pay off quickly. Asking why fruit falls off a branch pretty soon leads one to shake the tree.  Asking why it rains, or why it doesn’t rain, takes us into a different league, especially when the real motive underlying the question is whether we can influence whether it rains or not. Often we can influence events, and it may well pay to develop the habit of asking, when things (a hunting expedition, for example) have gone wrong, whether that was because we failed in our part of the performance, as opposed to being defeated by matters beyond our control. That same useful habit might have generated the thought that a drought is to some extent due to a failure of ours – and now what failure, what have we done wrong? And then an idea might crop up which served us well in our infancy: there are parents, who do things for us that we can’t do ourselves, but only if we’ve been good and they aren’t cross with us. Might there be beings that decide whether the rain falls, and shouldn’t we be trying to get on the right side of them?

That is all it would take for human beings to be launched into the investigation of nature and belief in the supernatural. So as their mental capacities developed our ancestors found their power increasing; but they also found themselves confronted by options and mysteries – life

7

raised a host of questions, where previously it had simply been lived, unquestioningly. It is just as well that all this happened gradually, but even so it was the biggest shock the species has ever encountered. Some people, thinking more in intellectual than biological terms, might like to say that it was what made us human at all.

Think of philosophy as the sound of humanity trying to recover from this crisis. Thinking of it like that will protect you from certain common misapprehensions. One is that philosophy is a rather narrow operation that only occurs in universities, or (less absurdly) only in particular epochs or particular cultures; another, related to the first, is that it is something of an intellectual game, answering to no very deep need. On the positive side, it may lead you to expect that the history of philosophy is likely to contain some fascinating episodes, as indeed it does, and it certainly adds to the excitement if we bear in mind that view of what is really going on. Can reeling homo sapiens think his way back to the vertical? We have no good reason to answer that question either way, Yes or No. Are we even sure that we know where the vertical is? That’s the kind of open-ended adventure we are stuck with, like it or not.

But isn’t that just too broad? Surely philosophy doesn’t include everything that that account of it implies? Well, in the first place, it will do us less harm to err on the broad side than the narrow. And in the second place, the scope of the word ‘philosophy’ has itself varied considerably through history, not to mention the fact that there has probably never been a time at which it meant the same thing to everyone. Recently something rather strange has happened to it. On the one hand it has become so broad as to be close to meaningless, as when almost every commercial organization speaks of itself as having a philosophy – usually meaning a policy. On the other hand it has become very narrow. A major factor here has been the development of the natural sciences. It has often been remarked that when an area of inquiry begins to find its feet as a discipline, with clearly agreed

8

methods and a clearly agreed body of knowledge, fairly soon it separates off from what has up to then been known as philosophy and goes its own way, as for instance physics, chemistry, astronomy, psychology. So the range of questions considered by people who think of themselves as philosophers shrinks; and furthermore, philosophy tends to be left in charge of those questions which we are not sure how best to formulate, those inquiries we are not sure how best to set about.

This multiplication of thriving disciplines inevitably brings another factor into play, namely specialization within universities, and creates the opportunity to think of philosophy yet more narrowly. University philosophy departments are mostly quite small. In consequence, so is the range of their expertise, which tends to cluster around current (sometimes also local) academic fashion – it must do, since it is normally they who make it. Besides, undergraduate courses are, for obvious reasons, quite short, and therefore have to be selective on pain of gross superficiality. So the natural assumption that philosophy is what university philosophy departments teach, though I certainly wouldn’t call it false, is restrictive and misleading, and ought to be avoided.

This book is called a very short introduction to philosophy. But, as I hope is now becoming clear, I can’t exactly introduce you to philosophy, because you are already there. Nor can I exactly introduce you to philosophy, because there is far too much of it. No more could I ‘show you London’. I could show you a few bits of it, perhaps mention a handful of other main attractions, and leave you on your own with a street map and some information about other guided tours. That’s pretty much what I propose to do for philosophy.

At the beginning of this chapter I spoke of three philosophical questions, though they might better have been called three types or classes of question. Chapters 2–4 introduce, from a classic text, an example of each type. By progressing from very familiar ways of

9

thinking in the first to something most readers will find altogether stranger in the third, they also illustrate (though not by any means in its full extent) another theme of this introduction: the range of novelty to be encountered in philosophy. I have also harped on somewhat about the difficulty of avoiding being philosophical. If that is so, we should expect to find some kind of philosophy more or less wherever we look. As if to confirm that, our first example comes from Greece and the fourth century bc, our second from eighteenth-century Scotland, and our third from India, written by an unknown Buddhist at an unknown date probably between 100 bc and ad 100.

All three of these texts should be fairly easy to obtain, especially the first two (see Bibliography). This book can perfectly well be read without them, but there are good reasons to read them yourself alongside it if that is possible. One is to be able to enjoy the writing. Much philosophy is well-written, and it is strongly recommended to enjoy the writing as well as the views and the arguments. But the main reason is that it will enable you to join in if you want to. Remember that this is not a completely foreign country: you are to some extent already a philosopher, and your ordinary native intelligence has a work permit here – you don’t need to go through any esoteric training to get a licence to think. So don’t be afraid, as you read, to start asking questions and forming provisional conclusions. But notice, provisional. Whatever you do, don’t get hooked up on that laziest, most complacent of sayings, that ‘everyone has a right to their own opinion’. Acquiring rights isn’t that simple. Rather, keep in mind the wry comment of George Berkeley (1685–1753): ‘Few men think, yet all will have opinions.’ If true, that’s a pity; for one thing, the thinking is part of the fun.

Finally, please read slowly. This is a very short book about a very long subject. I have tried to pack a lot in.

10

Chapter 2

What should I do?

Plato’s Crito

 

Plato, who was born in or around 427 bc and died in 347, was not the first important philosopher of ancient Greek civilization, but he is the first from whom a substantial body of complete works has come down to us. In the Indian tradition the Vedas, and many of the Upanishads are earlier; but of their authors, and how they were composed, we know next to nothing. The Buddha pre-dated Plato, though by just how much is a matter of scholarly disagreement; but the earliest surviving accounts of his life and thought were written down some hundreds of years after his death. In China, Confucius also pre-dated Plato (he was born in the middle of the previous century); again, we have nothing known to have been written by him – the famous Analects are a later compilation.

Plato’s works all take the form of dialogues. Mostly they are quick-fire dialogues, conversational in style, though sometimes the protagonists are allowed to make extended speeches. There are two dozen or so of these known to be by Plato, and a handful more that may be. Of the certainly authentic group two are much longer than the others, and better thought of as books consisting of sequences of dialogues. (They are Republic and Laws, both devoted to the search for the ideal political constitution.) So there is plenty of Plato to read, and most of it is fairly easy to obtain, in translation in relatively inexpensive editions. As regards degree of difficulty, the range is wide. At one end we have a

11

number of dialogues comparable to the one we shall shortly be taking a close look at. At the other are works like The Sophist, capable at times of making the most experienced readers scratch their heads and look blank.

A near constant feature of Plato’s dialogues is the presence of Socrates, usually though not always as the leader of the discussion. Since the dialogue called Crito is not only conducted by Socrates but also concerns what he, personally, should do in a certain predicament in which he finds himself, we need to know a little about him and how he got into the situation he is in when the dialogue opens – namely in prison in Athens awaiting imminent execution.

Socrates lived from 469 to 399 bc. He was clearly a charismatic figure, with a somewhat eccentric lifestyle. Accepting the poverty it entailed, he appears to have spent all his time in unpaid discussion with whomever would join with him, which included many of the better-off, hence more leisured, young men of Athens. These included Plato, whose admiration for Socrates motivated the career and writings which immortalized both of them.

Not all our evidence about Socrates’ thought comes to us through Plato, but by far the greater part of it does, so it is no easy matter to distinguish clearly between their views. Little doubt that Plato was sometimes trying to portray the historical Socrates; little doubt that he was sometimes using the figure of Socrates as a literary device to convey his own philosophy. Where to draw the line isn’t always obvious, but scholars seem now broadly agreed that the real Socrates concentrated on ethical questions about justice and virtue (‘How should I live?’ is sometimes called ‘the Socratic question’); and that he constantly probed whether his fellow Athenians really understood what was involved in these matters anything like as well as they claimed to. Nor was he always sure that he understood it himself – but then he didn’t claim to.

12

2. Not everyone was as impressed by Socrates as Plato was. In The Clouds,
by his contemporary Aristophanes, he appears as a self-important eccentric
who spends his time dangling in a basket (so as to be in a better position
for studying celestial phenomena).

That sounds like a pretty reliable way of making enemies, so this account of Socrates’ activities fits in well enough with the next episode: three citizens, surely acting as the public tip of a hostile iceberg, brought a prosecution against him on a charge of corrupting the youth of Athens. By a small majority he was found guilty, and condemned to death. In The Apology of Socrates you can read Plato’s version of the (totally unapologetic) speeches he made at his trial, one in his own defence, one after the verdict, one after the sentence.

Socrates was not executed straight away. At the time of his trial a ceremonial period was beginning, which would end only when an official ship returned to Athens from the island of Delos. This had religious significance, and no executions could take place while the ship was away. So Socrates had to spend this time in prison – long enough for his friends to set up a routine of visiting him, get to know the guards, and form a plan of action. With time running out, it falls to Crito to put this plan to Socrates: they propose to bribe the guards, Socrates can escape from Athens and go somewhere else, maybe to Thessaly, where Crito has friends who will offer hospitality and protection.

The dialogue Crito is Plato’s account of their discussion and Socrates’ response. Considering that this text is 2,400 years old, one of the most surprising things about it is that it is not more surprising. You may not agree with everything Socrates says – for instance, many readers will feel that his view of the claims that the state can properly make on the individual are exaggerated – but virtually all the points made will be perfectly familiar to anyone who has ever had to think about a difficult decision. When Plato writes about love we are aware that his perspective differs from ours; when we read him on cosmology we are back in a completely different age; but this discussion of a specific ethical question, ‘What should I do in this case?’, could almost have occurred yesterday. I said in Chapter 1 that we were all to some extent philosophers, and that therefore some philosophy would feel very near home. Here is an example – from ancient Greece.

14

Just one word before we start. There is a standard method for referring to passages in Plato’s texts, one that works whichever edition and translation you are using. It actually goes back to the pagination of a Renaissance edition published in 1578, and is known as Stephanus numbering (from the Latin name of the editor, Henri Estienne). Any modern edition of Plato will show it, either in the margin, or at the top of the page. I shall be using it throughout this chapter.

The first page or so (43a–44b) sets the scene. Crito mentions that he is well in with the warder. Socrates says that at his age you shouldn’t complain too much about having to die. But then Crito opens his campaign of persuasion. He starts – as one well might – by telling Socrates how much his friends value him, and then implies that Socrates might care to return the compliment: his friends’ reputation is at stake – if he stays in prison and dies people will think that they weren’t prepared to go to the expense of buying his escape.

Now a lot of very different points are raised very quickly (and left half dealt with – Crito is not written like a well-constructed lecture, but much more like a real conversation). Socrates responds by saying that one shouldn’t bother about what ‘people’ think; the opinion that should matter to us is that of reasonable people with a clear view of the facts. ‘We can’t afford to take that line,’ says Crito, ‘majority opinion is too powerful.’ ‘On the contrary,’ Socrates replies, ‘as regards what really matters the majority don’t have much power at all.’ And what really matters, apparently, is whether one is wise or foolish (44d).

I suspect that this idea will strike many readers as a rather strange one. What does Socrates mean by wisdom, that it should be the only thing that really matters? We should keep that question in mind, and keep an eye open for anything later in the dialogue that might shed light on it. Crito just lets it go, and goes back to the earlier issue of the consequences for Socrates’ friends. Is Socrates thinking that his friends will be in danger of reprisals if he escapes? Yes, it seems that he is (and

15

he returns to emphasize the risk to them at 53a/b). This of course quite neutralizes Crito’s argument: no point in appealing to the bad effects on your friends if you don’t do something, when the effects on them if you do are likely to be at least as bad.

Crito, understandably quite wound up, now makes a longer speech (45a–46a) in which he fires off all his remaining ammunition in an emotional and haphazard sort of way. Socrates shouldn’t think of the risk to his friends, or the expense – anyway, the expense won’t be all that great. Nor should he bother about the fact that escape into exile would mean going back on things he said at his trial. (We shall soon see, at 46b–46d and 52c, that this cuts no ice whatever with Socrates, for whom being consistent, true to himself and his reasons for acting, is a very important value.)

Next, Crito goes on, Socrates is acting wrongly in giving up his life when he could save it, and so falling in with his enemies’ wishes. Crito doesn’t tell us whether he thinks that for Socrates to give up his life when he could save it would be wrong just because it means success for his enemies, or whether it is an intrinsically wrong thing to do – as some have thought suicide intrinsically wrong – or for some other reason again. Which of these he has in mind actually makes quite a difference to what he is saying, but he is in no state for precise thinking. Now seriously overheating, he first accuses Socrates of showing no concern for his children, then of showing a lack of courage (45d). (Considering the courage required for what Socrates actually does intend to do, the latter charge seems particularly absurd – the one about his children Socrates will deal with later.) Running out of steam, Crito now returns to his complaint about the damage to Socrates’ friends’ reputations, begs Socrates to agree with him, and comes to a stop.

In his distress and anxiety Crito has become pretty offensive in his last couple of paragraphs. But this Socrates overlooks, with a kind remark about Crito’s warm feelings, and takes control of the dialogue. The

16

thinking immediately becomes slower and calmer, and better organized. He returns to the first point Crito made – the one about reputation – and asks whose opinion we should respect, those of the wise or the foolish, those of the many or those of the expert? Crito trots along giving the obvious answers, the way his discussion-partners usually do when Socrates gets into gear. So in this case we shouldn’t be listening to the majority, but to someone who understands what it is to be just, to act rightly, to live well or as one should. Otherwise we shall damage our souls, as we would have damaged our bodies by listening to the majority rather than the doctor in a matter of physical health. The crucial question is whether it is right for Socrates to try to escape – all this stuff about money, reputations, and bringing up children is of no real consequence (48c).

Let’s just pause for a moment. One thing we should not do is read philosophy uncritically. Isn’t there a whiff of moral fanaticism about what Socrates is now saying? What damage to his soul exactly? And why should it be so frightful? And if his friends’ reputations and his children’s upbringing are on the line, mightn’t he be prepared to risk a little damage to his soul? After all, he wouldn’t think much of anyone who wasn’t prepared to risk physical injury for the sake of friends and family. Admittedly, we have been told (back at 47e–48a) that the soul, or more accurately ‘that part of us, whatever it is, which is concerned with justice and injustice’, is much more valuable than the body. But we haven’t been told why or how; and there has been no explanation of why it should be so valuable that the prospect of damage to it instantly overrides any little matters like friends’ reputations or the well-being of one’s children. And besides, if children are not well cared for, might that not damage ‘that part of them, whatever it is, which is concerned with justice and injustice’? It looks as if Socrates needed a different discussion-partner, someone who might have started calling for
answers to a few of these questions.

But let us hear Socrates out, and get a view of the full picture, as he

17

argues that it would be wrong for him to escape into exile. First he asks Crito to agree that doing someone a wrong is always wrong, even when done in response to a wrong done to you (49a–49e). Revenge may be sweet but it is not permissible. The strategic importance of this is easy to see: if it is accepted, then whether anyone has wronged Socrates – the State, the jurors, his accusers – becomes irrelevant; the only question is whether he himself would be doing a wrong in following Crito’s plan. Clearly Socrates does not expect there to be widespread agreement on this point. He knows only too well that there are many who hold that retaliation is permissible, even that it is positively right. But it is Crito he is trying to convince, and the two of them have evidently been here in discussion before – ‘our former opinion’ he calls it. And Crito agrees: ‘I stand by it.’

Socrates now puts forward two much less controversial premisses: doing harm to people is wrong (49c), and breaking a fair agreement is wrong (49e). He is now about to argue that if he tries to escape he will be doing both. The injured parties would be the State of Athens and its laws; he imagines them coming forward, personified, to put their case.

In the first place, he would be doing them harm (50a–50b), indeed he would be ‘intending their destruction’. That sounds odd – surely the only thing Socrates would be intending is to escape execution? But the next sentence tells us what is meant: if what he proposes to do were taken as an example, the result would be the collapse of the law and hence also of the State, neither of which can survive if private individuals ignore the decisions of the courts. What we have here is an appeal to a very familiar moral argument: ‘What would happen if everybody behaved like that?’ When I do something, it is as if I were giving everyone else my permission to do the same, and I have to consider the consequences of that, not just of my individual action. The German Immanuel Kant (1724–1804), some would say the most influential philosopher of modern times, made this the basic principle of morality (though he found a rather more complicated way of stating it).

18

We have all heard of it, we have all had it thrown at us, and here it is popping up in 400 bc.

In the second place, they suggest (50c), Socrates would be breaking an agreement. But from here to 51d what the Laws and the State have to say does not seem to be about an agreement at all, in any normal sense – no voluntary consent to anything on the part of Socrates is in question. It might be better described as being about obligations of gratitude, or about the deference owed by a creature to its creator, or both. The burden of this paragraph is that the Athenian State, which is compared to a parent, made Socrates what he is; and he is not dissatisfied with how it did it. So he is bound by its wishes, and it is ridiculous to suppose that he might have a right of retaliation against it.

The last point really ought to be unnecessary, since Socrates has already said that retaliation is wrong anyway. But he can be seen as covering himself twice: even if retaliation were sometimes right, as many think it is, it would still not be right in this case, where the parent-like State is the other party. As to his being bound by the State’s wishes, this totalitarian conception of the State’s powers and the corresponding view of parental authority is more stipulated than justified in this passage. That isn’t surprising, because it wouldn’t be at all easy to justify the doctrine that the State, by virtue of its role in the lives of human individuals, thereby acquires the right to dispose of them much as if they were inanimate artefacts made for its own purposes. A State may do a lot for its citizens, but can it conceivably do so much that they can lay claim to no purposes of their own beyond those it allows them? And once we grant that Socrates might be allowed some purposes of his own independent of the will of Athens, then might not staying alive (if that is what he wants) be one of them? Crito, were he not the perfect Yes-man, could have had rather more to say at this stage.

However, at 51d Socrates’ imaginary antagonists introduce a point which, if correct, makes a very big difference: Socrates has of his own

19

free will entered into an agreement with them to respect and obey the laws. Not that he ever signed a document or made an official statement; but his behaviour was a sufficient indication of his agreement. For the law allowed him, once an adult, to take his possessions and leave Athens without any material penalty. He stayed. Nor has he ever in his seventy years been away even temporarily, except on military service. At his trial he made it clear that he had no interest in exile as a possible alternative sentence. Taken together, this is clear voluntary consent to the institutions of Athens. Does he now (contrary to what he avowed at 49e) intend to break his agreement?

Much of Socrates’ argument has been conducted at a high level of principle, sometimes dizzily high – as when he said that compared with the importance of doing what is right, matters of reputation (his friends’ as well as his own) and the upbringing of children were of no account. But here in the closing pages of Crito, between 52c and the end, there are signs of him covering his back. Whether he wants to be sure of convincing those not convinced of his lofty principles, or whether he isn’t himself altogether happy to let the entire issue rest on them, the fact is that reputations, the risks to his friends, his prospects in exile, and the education of his children now make a reappearance.

Not many pages back Socrates was telling Crito not to bother about the opinion of the crowd. But ‘the Laws and the State’ think it is at least worth mentioning that he is in danger of making himself a laughing stock (53a), and of hearing many deprecatory things about himself (53e), and of giving the jurors reason to think that they made the right decision (53b/c). (More important to one holding Socrates’ principles is that he himself would be ashamed if he were to go back on what he so proudly said at his trial (52c) – his own integrity ought to mean more to him than that.) He should think of the practical consequences: if he escapes his friends will be in danger (53b), his life in exile will be unrewarding and demeaning (53b–53e). And finally (54a), what will it benefit his children? Is he to bring them up in Thessaly (Thessaly of all

20

places!), exiles themselves? And if they are to grow up in Athens, what difference to them whether he is dead or merely absent? His friends will see to their education in either case. The Laws have one last card to play, well known and much used by moralists from earliest times right down to our own: the old fire-andbrimstone manoeuvre. Should Socrates offend against them, they say, he can expect an uncomfortable reception in the afterlife. The laws of the underworld are their brothers, and will avenge them. Finally, Socrates speaks again in his own person (54d). His closing words broach another perennial topic: the relationship between morals and religion. Some have held (and many have disagreed with them) that morality is impossible without belief in a god. There is no reason to attribute that view to Socrates. But he does appear to be doing
something just as time-honoured as the fire-and-brimstone trick, and a good deal more comforting: claiming divine moral inspiration. ‘These things I seem to hear, Crito … and these words re-echo within me, so that I can hear no others. … Let us then act in this way, since this is the way the god is leading.’ The dialogue is over; I hope you have enjoyed reading it. Moral problems are notoriously hard to settle, not just when several people are trying to reach agreement, but even when they are trying to make up their own minds as individuals. We have seen a little of why this should be: so many factors, of so many different types, are involved. Should you do A or not? Well, what will the consequences be if you do? There may be consequences for your friends, your family, and others, as well as those for you yourself. And what if you don’t? How do the consequences compare? Alternatively, never mind the consequences for a moment, just ask whether you can do A consistently with your own view of yourself – would it involve betraying ideals that till then you had valued and tried to live up to? How will you feel about having done it? Or again, however pleasant the consequences may be, would it run

21

3. Still debating with his friends, Socrates takes the hemlock from the gaoler. Jacques Louis David’s
well-known painting The Death of Socrates (1787).

contrary to some duty, or some obligations you have incurred? Obligations to whom? – and might you not be in breach of other obligations if you don’t do it? Do obligations to friends and family take precedence over duties towards the State, or vice versa? And if you have a religion what does it say about the choice? All this complexity is only latent in Crito, because Socrates manages to make all the relevant factors come out either neutral (it won’t make much difference to his children either way, nor to his friends) or all pointing in the same direction. But it doesn’t take much imagination to see the potential for agonizing moral dilemmas. Some people expect philosophy to tell us the answers to moral problems. But unless it can somehow impose simplicity on the complexities we have been looking at, the prospects for that don’t look good. For it would have to show us, convincingly, that there was just one right way to balance out all the various considerations. Socrates was going for simplification when (starting at 48c) he tried to make the whole thing turn on just one issue. Kant, whom I mentioned earlier (p. 18) went for simplification in basing morality on a single principle closely related to the familiar ‘what would happen if everyone did that?’ Some try to simplify in another way, advising us not to think in terms of duties and obligations but only of the consequences of our own proposed actions for everyone whom they will affect. We shall see more of this kind of view in Chapter 5. 23

Chapter 3

How do we know?

Hume’s Of Miracles

Many – including your present guide – regard the Scotsman David Hume (1711–76) as the greatest of all philosophers who have written in English. He was of wide-ranging intellect: his multi-volume History of England had the effect that in his lifetime he was equally well known as a historian, and he also wrote essays on political (mainly constitutional) questions and on economics. All of this he saw as contributing to a single broad project, the study of human nature. His youthful masterpiece, published in 1739/40, is called A Treatise of Human Nature; in three books it deals with human beliefs, emotions, and moral judgements. What are they, and what produces them? Hume’s writings on these questions are shaped by a deeply held conviction about what human beings are. Equally important to him was a conviction about what we aren’t, a particular delusion which had to be overcome before anything more positive would have a chance of taking hold of our minds. Remember that most great philosophy doesn’t just add/subtract one or two facts to/from our previous beliefs; it removes a whole way of thinking and replaces it with another. There may be a lot of minute detail within it, but just stand back a bit and you will see that it is large-scale stuff. The conception that Hume wanted to root out had its basis in religious belief. Taking very seriously the saying that God created us in his own 24

4. Hume was smarter than he looked: ‘His face is by no means an index of
the ingenuity of his mind, especially of his delicacy and vivacity’ wrote one visitor.

image, it saw us as hybrid beings, in this world but not entirely of it. Part of us, our bodies, are natural objects, subject to natural laws and processes; but we also have immortal souls, endowed with reason and an understanding of morality – this is what makes us images of God. Animals are quite different. They have no souls, but are just very subtle and complex machines, nothing more. The really significant line comes between us and them, not between us and God. Hume wanted to move it: we are not inferior little gods but somewhat superior middle-sized animals.

God	⇒	God (?)
Humans	⇒	———
———	⇒	Humans
Animals	⇒	Animals

Don’t miss the added ‘?’, top-right. The left-hand column invites us to overestimate human reason. Once we get it in proper perspective we shall see both that we have drawn the line in the wrong place, and that our attempts even to think about what might be above the line are doomed to failure: we just aren’t up to it. Hume therefore has a great deal to say about the role of reason in our lives; he argues that it isn’t nearly as big, or of the same kind, as his opponents thought. It then follows that much of what they took human reason to do must in fact be done by something else: the mechanics of human nature, about which he developed an extensive theory, a piece of early cognitive science as we would call it nowadays. But when Hume writes directly about religious belief (as he does quite a lot, see Bibliography) he leaves the grand theory on the shelf and applies 26 common sense and everyday human observation. So in his essay Of Miracles we have another classic piece of philosophical writing that starts on your doorstep, if not actually in your living-room. However, we mustn’t assume that everything here is completely familiar. Hume is going to argue that if we believe that a miracle has occurred, when our evidence consists in other people’s reports (as it virtually always does), then we hold this belief contrary to reason, since our reasons for believing that the alleged miracle did not occur must be at least as strong as our reasons for supposing that it did; in fact, he thinks, they are always stronger. This was a topic that he needed to approach carefully, for two reasons. Not twenty years before he published Of Miracles one Thomas Woolston had spent the last few years of his life in prison for saying that the biblical reports of Christ’s resurrection were not adequate evidence for belief in so unlikely an event; what Hume was now about to say was by no means unrelated. Second, Hume really wanted to change the way his contemporaries, especially his compatriots, thought about religion. He couldn’t do that if they didn’t read him, so he had to lead them in gently.

Hence the ‘Tillotson connection’ that Hume parades in the opening paragraph. What could be better than to be able to say that your views are just a development of an argument recently proposed by an archbishop? Except perhaps, to be able to add that the archbishop’s argument was a decisive refutation of a specifically Roman Catholic doctrine? Hume’s public, most of them in varying degrees hostile to Catholicism, would feel a comfortable warm glow . . . and read on.

Before we look at the argument itself, one more question: why does Hume find it important to write about the evidence for miracles? It is part of his plan for a systematic treatment of the grounds of religious belief, and it was customary to think of these as being of two kinds. On the one hand there were those which human beings, going on their own
experience and using their own reason, could work out for themselves.

27

On the other, there were those that came from revelation, that is to say from a sacred text or some other authority. But these present a further problem, because you could have fraudulent texts and bogus authorities; so how to tell the genuine ones? The answer was that genuine revelations are connected with the occurrence of miracles: hence their importance, as certificates of religious authority. (Ultimately, they are issued by the highest possible authority; the widely accepted view, which Hume here takes over, had it that miracles were violations of laws of nature, and therefore could only be performed by God or those God had entrusted with divine powers.) That we can never have good reason to believe in a miracle was therefore a pretty subversive claim; it amounted to saying that human reason cannot tell the bona-fide revelation from the bogus. So now to Hume’s argument. It starts at a point we all know well, because we all frequently rely on things that other people have told us. Mostly there has been no problem, but occasionally what we were told turned out to be false. Occasionally we have heard contradictory things from two people, so we knew that at least one of them was wrong even if we never found out which. And we also know a little about what leads to false reports: self-interest, protection of others, defence of a cause dear to one’s heart, the wish to have a good story to tell, simple sincere mistake, uncritical belief of earlier reports, mischief, and so on. Most of us have sometime in our lives gone wrong in most of these ways ourselves, so that it isn’t just from observation of others (as some of Hume’s words might be taken to suggest) that we acquire this knowledge. We all know that human testimony is sometimes to be treated with caution, and under certain circumstances with a great deal of caution. Suppose I were to tell you that last week I drove, on a normal weekday morning just before midday, right across London from north to south, and didn’t see a single person or vehicle on the way – not a car, not a bicycle, not a pedestrian; everyone just happened to be somewhere else

28

as I was passing. You might wonder whether it was an absurdly exaggerated way of saying that the roads were unusually quiet, or whether I was testing your gullibility, or recounting a dream, or maybe going mad, but one option you would not seriously entertain is that what I had said was true. Almost anything, you would tell yourself, however unlikely, is more likely than that. That would be very reasonable of you. Even if what I said was in fact true (which is just about conceivable, since nobody was under any compulsion to be on my route at that time, so they might all have decided to be somewhere else) it still wouldn’t be at all reasonable of you to believe it, if your only reason for believing it was that I had said so. Had you been with me and seen the empty streets yourself things might be different; but we are talking about the case in which you are reliant on my testimony. Perhaps you can see the shape of Hume’s argument beginning to appear. Given what its role is to be in underpinning religious belief, a miraculous event must surely be one which our experience tells us is highly improbable. For if it were the sort of thing that can quite easily happen, then any old charlatan with a bit of luck or good timing could seize the opportunity to qualify as having divine authority. But if it is highly improbable, only the most reliable testimony will be strong enough to establish it. Forced to choose between two improbabilities the wise, who as Hume tells us proportion belief to evidence, will opt for the alternative they find less improbable. So this will have to be the testimony of such witnesses, that its falsehood would be more improbable than the occurrence of the events it relates. And that is a tall order, since, as we have seen, the events must be very improbable indeed. Now this leaves it perfectly possible that we might, in theory, have testimonial evidence that was strong enough. But it is enough to create serious doubt whether we do, in fact, have adequate evidence for any

29

miracle. We know that eyewitnesses can be mistaken, or intentionally deceived. Many of us have had the experience of finding ourselves in disagreement with someone else who was also an eyewitness to the events reported, often within a day or two of the events themselves. Many reports of the miraculous come to us from people who were not eyewitnesses, and were writing or speaking years after the events in question. Most such reports come from adherents of the religion which these alleged miracles are used to support. A court of law would take the possibility that witnesses of this kind were unreliable very seriously indeed – in some cases so seriously that it wouldn’t even be prepared to hear them testify. Are there any reports of miracles which escape such doubts? It sounds as if we might have to trawl through the whole of recorded history to answer that question. But that, Hume thinks, won’t be necessary. For it isn’t just that a miracle has to be extremely improbable. It has to be in a sense impossible – contrary to a law of nature (‘instead of being only marvellous, . . . really miraculous’). That was Hume’s definition, and the one he expected his audience to accept. And this enables us to state the argument again in a slightly different, and more decisive, form – the form Hume preferred. We receive a report of something – for convenience call it The Event – supposed to be miraculous. So we are asked to believe that The Event occurred, and that this was contrary to a law of nature. For us to have good reason to believe that an event of that kind would have been contrary to a law of nature, it must be contrary to all our experience, and to our best theories of how nature works. But if that is so then we must have very strong reason to believe that The Event did not occur – in fact the strongest reason we ever do have for believing anything of that sort. So what reason do we have on the other side – to believe that it did occur? Answer: the report – in other words the fact that it is said to have

30

5. The Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes, in a sixth-century representation.
Food for 5,000? Or just food for thought?

occurred. Could that possibly be so strong as to overpower the contrary reasons and win the day for The Event? No, says Hume, it could (in theory) be of equal strength, but never of greater. There might be such a thing as testimony, given by sufficiently well-placed witnesses, of the right sort of character, under the right sort of circumstances, that as a matter of natural (psychological) law it was bound to be true. But that would only mean that we had our strongest kind of evidence both for The Event and against it, and the rational response would be not belief but bewilderment and indecision. Note the bracketed words ‘in theory’. Hume doesn’t think that we ever find this situation in practice, and gives a number of reasons why not. Had he lived in our time he might have added that psychological research has uncovered a number of surprising facts about the unreliability of human memory and testimony, but shows no sign of homing in on any set of conditions under which their reliability is 5. The Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes, in a sixth-century representation. Food for 5,000? Or just food for thought?

31

completely assured. Nor should we expect it to, given the range of disruptive factors which Hume lists. This, in essence, was Hume’s argument. Unsurprisingly, it has provoked much discussion, and still does. Here are a couple of points, to give the flavour. They also nicely illustrate two features frequent in philosophical discussion and indeed in debate generally, so well worth being on the look out for: there is the criticism which, whilst perfectly true in itself, misses the point; and there is the objection that an argument ‘proves too much’. Hume, it may be said, based his argument on the thought that a miracle must be (at least) extremely improbable. But won’t his opponents just deny that? They, after all, are believers. So whereas they might regard a report that – to take Hume’s own example – Queen Elizabeth I rose from the dead as far beneath serious consideration, just as Hume himself would, they may regard the alleged miracle of Christ’s resurrection as not very improbable at all, given who they take Christ to have been. Hasn’t Hume just begged the question against them – not so much proved that they are wrong as simply assumed it? But we should reply on his behalf that this mistakes what Hume was doing. He was asking what reasons there may be for forming religious beliefs in the first place. That the world may look very different, and different arguments appear reasonable, when one has already formed them, he would not for one moment dispute. Nor need he dispute it: it has no bearing on the central issue, which is whether a miracle can be proved, ‘so as to be the foundation of a system of religion’. So that objection is simply off target. The second is not, and gives Hume more trouble. Doesn’t his argument show that it could never be reasonable for us to revise our views about the laws of nature? But that is the main way in which science makes progress; so if that is irrational, then any charge that belief in miracles is irrational begins to look rather

32

less serious. ‘If I’m no worse than Newton and Einstein and company’, the believer will say, ‘I’m not too bothered.’ Why might it be thought that Hume’s argument has gone over the top in this way? Well, suppose we have very good reason to think that something is a law of nature: all our experience to date fits in with it, and our best current scientific theory supports it. Now suppose that some scientists report an experimental result which conflicts with it. Doesn’t Hume’s argument tell us that we ought just to dismiss their report on the spot? Our evidence that what they report to have happened cannot happen is as good as any evidence we ever have; on the other side of the question we have just – their testimony. Isn’t that exactly the situation he was talking about in regard to reports of miracles? Hume appears to be trying to pre-empt some such criticism when he writes: ‘For I own that otherwise [i.e. when it is not a question of being the foundation of a system of religion] there may possibly be miracles, or violations of the usual course of nature, of such a kind as to admit of proof from human testimony . . .’. And he goes on to describe an imaginary case (philosophers often use imaginary cases to test the force of an argument) in which there are found in all human societies reports of an eight-day darkness, which agree with each other exactly as to when the darkness began and when it lifted. Then, he says, it is clear that we ought to accept the report, and start considering what the cause of this extraordinary event might have been. But he does not tell us precisely what it is about this example that makes the difference. And that was what we needed to know. I think Hume could have made a better, and certainly a clearer, response to the threat. He might have said that in circumstances such as I have just outlined (last paragraph but one) the scientific community probably would not believe the report, and that they would be perfectly rational not to, until several of them had repeated the experiment and got

33

exactly the same result. Belief in it would then no longer be a matter of testimony alone, but also of widespread observation. We can, and do, demand that scientific results be replicable; we can’t demand a rerun of a miracle. Where for any reason no rerun is possible those making the improbable assertion have it too easy, and we ought to be as cautious in science as we should be in matters religious. It may be, though we cannot be certain, that this is what Hume was trying to say. In the imaginary situation he describes, the report of the eight-day darkness is found in all cultures. At a time when communication was slow and cumbersome, and likely to be partial and inaccurate, perhaps he took his story to be one in which it was beyond doubt that all these different peoples had independently made precisely the same observations, so that the situation was the equivalent of running an experiment several times with exactly the same result. As I say, we cannot be certain – not even Hume, one of the best philosophical writers in this respect, is clear all the time. But we can be fairly certain that that was not all he was trying to say. For at the end of the paragraph from which the quotation above is taken, we find this: ‘The decay, corruption, and dissolution of nature, is an event rendered probable by so many analogies, that any phenomenon, which seems to have a tendency towards that catastrophe, comes within the reach of human testimony, if that testimony be very extensive and uniform.’ Or in other words, the alleged eight-day darkness would indeed be very unusual, but there is nothing especially unusual about nature behaving out of the normal pattern from time to time. So we have no reason to regard such a thing as impossible, and therefore there is no real comparison with the case of a miracle at all. We could spend a long time amongst the details of Hume’s essay Of Miracles. Many have. But our tour must move on.

34

Page 1, 2, 3, 4