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August 16, 2008
Hello everyone,
In recent newsletters, many times the thought has been expressed in one way or another that we see the world not as it is, but as we are. That particular observation has grown more poignant for me in both my reading and thinking, particularly as I have recently discovered James Allen (1864-1912), a British author who wrote inspirational self-help books before they became a modern commodity. I will spend some time discussing his ideas in a moment, but first I would be advised to set the stage upon which he will make his grand entrance.
On the discussion forum recently, the idea of good and evil came up, a thorny question by anyone’s estimate. I do not intend here to go into a lengthy discussion about the nature of evil, though I would at least like to attempt a definition as a springboard for further thoughts and ideas. Before considering why there might be evil in the world, it is helpful to give the word a more-or-less precise philosophic definition. That is, it is helpful first to know “What is evil?” As long as we do not grow overly impatient with the definition of what evil is, eager to jump in and suggest all the reasons why an ontological definition is inadequate in the face of real suffering, we might also gain some sense as to why there may be evil in the world by the very definition of the concept.
I do not plan on deviating far from the classic understanding of evil. By this definition, advanced in such places as the third meditation in Descartes’ Meditations, evil is a privation of goodness. (See Enlightenment Thinkers: The Death of Teleology.) “Privation” may not be a word that we see every day, but most of us are familiar with the word “deprive,” which stems from the same Latin root privus, which essentially means “to isolate, to be single.” To be isolated is certainly understandable, and so is the common sense of “being deprived.” Extending our etymology slightly, we see an implication of “less than full” or “incomplete.” “Privation,” then, means “a lack of,” and in this case, evil is defined as “the privation of good.” Evil, on this understanding, is the absence of goodness, whether that be the complete absence of goodness or goodness tied to the rack and tortured, forced into all kinds of unnatural, perverted shapes, distorted and hideous.
Now let us look for a moment at “mild Mother Nature.” We see beautiful flowers and springtime grasses, but we also see acts of savagery and barbarism. The law of the jungle tends not to be the tale told by the moralist; survival of the fittest seems to be the norm in much of nature. We see beasts savagely tearing into one another, the strong preying upon the weak, those with advantage taking advantage of the disadvantaged. Hold the picture of beasts in mind for a moment.
Aristotle, in chapter 2 (“On Man in the Universe”) of The Politics, writes:
For man, when perfected, is the best of animals, but when separated from law and justice he is the worst of all, since armed injustice is the most dangerous, and he is equipped at birth with the arms of intelligence and with moral qualities which he may use for the worst ends. Wherefore, if he have not virtue, he is the most unholy and the most savage of animals, and the most full of lust and gluttony. But justice is the bond of men in states, and the administration of justice, which is the determination of what is just, is the principle of order in political society.
The implication is that humanity has both the ability to rise upward in stature toward the gods or to descend downward, even beneath the level of beasts. If we consider what it means for a man to be a beast, and we think again of beasts tearing into other beasts without compassion or mercy, there is definitely something lacking, and that something is a level of conscious consideration or empathetic intelligence. A beast, in short, is unthinking, blindly guided by passions and instinct. A beast that rends and tears is merely acting out its animal instinct, its animal nature. But in the many answers given throughout the centuries of specifically what criteria separate humanity from the beasts, one of those is humanity’s latent perfectibility: humanity’s potential to rise above and become more than it is. And anything with such great potential also has an equally great liability, which is another way of saying that though humanity can at times be one of the most sublime creatures to ever walk erect, it can also be one of the most hideous and depraved as well. The very potential for such great goodness also leaves wide open the potential for extreme depravity and baseness. To use a frivolous example, Superman is a mighty hero in the land of Marvel comics, using his super-human powers to right wrong. But what if Superman himself went wrong? The very advantage he has as an agent for good is the very aspect that would make him a thousand times the menace, far more lethal than any ordinary criminal and virtually unstoppable in his tyranny.
Now are we to suppose that because a beast acts as a beast that this means that evil is the more powerful force in the universe? Not at all! As I write on the discussion forum:
[T]he universe is weighted toward a law of charity and benevolence. There is great evil. There is bestiality and a raw instinct toward survival in the animal kingdom. Parts of the universe are indeed savage. But those parts are the lesser parts, and those parts are swallowed by the greater parts. A beast may be rent from limb to limb, may even rend me from limb to limb. I do not see that as proof that charity does not exist or that charity is not more powerful. I see that as a gross ignorance and barbarism. But beasts can and have been domesticated. There are laws in the universe more powerful still; there is a deeper magic. (Wisdom and Shiny, New Shoes—post 129)
Let’s briefly revisit our definition of evil, which is merely the classic explanation restated: we said “evil is a privation of goodness.” Certainly unthinking, bestial behavior is a privation of all that we are capable of as human beings. That lack does not speak to the presence of virtue, but to its glaring absence. And this principle runs from top to bottom. As I write on an earlier post to the same discussion forum thread:
The truth does not need a lie. But a lie does need the truth to parody, else no one would be deceived. Life does not need a killer to be alive, but a killer needs a life to exist first in order to take that life. A sincere compliment does not need flattery to exist, but flattery requires sincere compliments, for flattery pretends to be a sincere compliment and would not be believed if it were seen for what it is. In the cosmic ballroom, the faces of evil all wear the masks of goodness—no one would dance with them if they didn’t (because as Painter suggests, we always desire the good,* and would never take up the bad if we did not think it good). But in the cosmic ballroom, the faces of good appear just as they are, for what is beautiful in itself needs no alteration. The list goes on and on. Good does not need evil. But evil does need good, for evil is but a lack of good at best and parasite at worst.
* at least for ourselves. Perhaps a lot of badness comes from desiring good for ourselves at the expense of others, undermining both us and them in the process. Even the art of rationalizing is fooling ourselves into thinking that some good will be the result of some misdeed.
Also, there might be those who would agree to dance with evil even seen for what it is. Why? Some because they merely thought to use it as a tool to gain for themselves some perceived good. For others, because they lack hope. They lack the sense of any possibility of goodness or of ever being good, and so they identify themselves with dismal failure and lack: they cave and embrace their perceived lack as best they can—in despair. Despair and hopelessness and giving up: these are themselves great evils, lack of hope and lack of life.
We have put at least a rudimentary frame around the ontological question of “What is evil?” though we will leave the question of “Why is there evil?” implicit. This newsletter is not a theodicy—a defense of the existence of a good God in a world that contains evil—it is about perception, about seeing the world not as it is, but as we are.
I mentioned James Allen in the opening paragraph, the classic British author who wrote inspirational “self-help” books a century ago. I have been reading From Poverty to Power: The Realization of Prosperity and Peace (which can be read online here free), which have had many provoking elements. I do not always agree with Allen; if you are like me, rare would it be that you would ever completely agree with the words of any writer, at least if you have read very many of his or her words. I wish to cull here an extended passage from Chapter 2 “The World: A Reflex of Mental States”:
As you are, so is your world. Everything in the universe is resolved into your own inward experience. It matters little what is without, for it is all a reflection of your own state of consciousness. It matters everything what you are within, for everything without will be mirrored and colored accordingly.
All that you positively know is contained in your own experience; all that you ever will know must pass through the gateway of experience, and so become part of yourself.
Your own thoughts, desires, and aspirations comprise your world, and, to you, all that there is in the universe of beauty and joy and bliss, or of ugliness and sorrow and pain, is contained within yourself. By your own thoughts you make or mar your life, your world, your universe. As you build within by the power of thought, so will your outward life and circumstances shape themselves accordingly. Whatsoever you harbor in the inmost chambers of your heart will, sooner or later, by the inevitable law of reaction, shape itself in your outward life.
The soul that is impure, sordid and selfish, is gravitating with unerring precision towards misfortune and catastrophe; the soul that is pure, unselfish, and noble, is gravitating with equal precision towards happiness and prosperity. Every soul attracts its own, and nothing can possibly come to it that does not belong to it. To realize this is to recognize the universality of Divine Law.
The incidents of every human life, which both make and mar, are drawn to it by the quality and power of its own inner thought-life. Every soul is a complex combination of gathered experiences and thoughts, and the body is but an improvised vehicle for its manifestation. What, therefore, your thoughts are, that is your real self, and the world around, both animate and inanimate, wears the aspect with which your thoughts clothe it.
It therefore follows that if a man is happy, it is because he dwells in happy thoughts, if miserable, because he dwells in despondent and debilitating thoughts. Whether one be fearful or fearless, foolish or wise, troubled or serene, within that soul lies the cause of its own state or states and never without.
And now I seem to hear a chorus of voices exclaim, “But do you really mean to say that outward circumstances do not effect our minds?” I do not say that, but I say this, and know it to be an infallible truth, that circumstances can only affect you in so far as you allow them to do so. You are swayed by circumstances because you have not a right understanding of the nature, use, and power of thought. You believe (and upon this little word “belief” hang all our sorrows and joys) that outward things have the power to make or mar your life; by so doing you submit to those outward things, confess that you are their slave, and they your unconditional master; by so doing, you invest them with a power which they do not, of themselves, possess, and you succumb, in reality, not to the mere circumstances, but to the gloom or gladness, the fear or hope, the strength or weakness, which your thought-sphere has thrown around them.
* * * *
And as we clothe events with the drapery of our own thoughts, so likewise do we clothe the objects of the visible world around us, and where one sees harmony and beauty, another sees revolting ugliness.
The wild flower which the casual wayfarer thoughtlessly tramples upon is, to the spiritual eye of the poet, an angelic messenger from the invisible. To the many, the ocean is but a dreary expanse of water on which ships sail and are sometimes wrecked; to the soul of the musician, it is a living thing, and he hears, in all its changing moods, divine harmonies.
Where the ordinary mind sees disaster and confusion, the mind of the philosopher sees the most perfect sequence of cause and effect, and where the materialist sees nothing but endless death, the mystic sees pulsating and eternal life.
And as we clothe both events and objects with our own thoughts, so likewise do we clothe the souls of others in the garments of our thoughts. The suspicious believe everybody to be suspicious; the liar feels secure in the thought that he is not so foolish as to believe that there is such a phenomenon as a strictly truthful person; the envious see envy in every soul; the miser thinks everybody is eager to get his money; he who has subordinated conscience in the making of his wealth, sleeps with a revolver under his pillow, wrapped in the delusion that the world is full of conscienceless people who are eager to rob him, and the abandoned sensualist looks upon the saint as a hypocrite.
On the other hand, those who dwell in loving thoughts see that in all which calls forth their love and sympathy; the trusting and honest are not troubled by suspicions; the good natured and charitable who rejoice at the good fortune of others scarcely know what envy means, and he who has realized the Divine within himself recognizes it in all beings, even in the beasts.
And men and women are confirmed in their mental outlook because of the fact that, by the law of cause and effect, they attract to themselves that which they send forth, and so come in contact with people similar to themselves. The old adage, “Birds of a feather flock together,” has a deeper significance than is generally attached to it, for in the thought-world, as in the world of matter, each clings to its kind. (The World: A Reflex of Mental States)
There may be numerous grounds upon which we would argue with the above excerpt. For many of us, it certainly is not the kind of teaching that we are accustomed to hearing. Yet when we pause and consider, what do we know of the world other than what we see with our eyes, hear with our ears, taste with our tongues, feel with our fingers, smell with our noises, perceive with our intuitions? Even when we share an intimate encounter with another human being, that sharing is still apprehensible to us through our perceptions of the event through the very same faculties just mentioned.
We have also said that there are wild beasts, and that the nature of wild beasts is to act unthinkingly, rending and tearing and preying upon those weaker. That is not an indication that charity does not exist, but an indication that there are parts of the universe that suffer a lack or privation, parts that are not yet “filled up,” as it were. Yet the traditional spiritual answer has always held that creation is not yet fully formed, is still groaning with birth pangs, is still giving birth until the fullness of time swallows up all that is lacking and fills in all the crevices with itself. Sometimes we may see the barbarity with which men and women rend and tear one another because those we love and minister to are caught in their throes. But sometimes we may see the bestiality of the world—and despair—because of our own lack, our own privation. We have said that despair and hopelessness are great evils: whether we are the author of these evils, it is a product of biochemistry, or some other factor is to be blamed, it can hardly be said to be a realistic portrayal of the world to imagine that because we see only “Nature, red in tooth and claw” as Lord Tennyson writes, it is therefore only a world of barbarity, Godless, evil, and defiled.
I should hasten to add that it can hardly be said to be a realistic portrayal of the world to deny that great evil exists—or, in keeping with what we are saying here, to deny that there are places in the universe where goodness is greatly lacking. However, the more we are transformed, the more aware we become of the hidden currents of beauty, truth, and goodness that surround us on all sides and yet that many around us fail to see. They cannot see not because such things do not exist, but because they have never known such things, or, if that is too extreme, do not currently know such things, perhaps forgotten in the land of youth, discarded with the fairy tales and doll houses in the cobwebs of an old attic as so many childish trinkets unable to survive the brutality of the “land of grown-ups” where people walk about with perpetual frowns in foul tempers snapping at each other. Now certainly there is little we can directly do to invert those frowns, alleviate those tempers, and ensure that the exchange is even and pleasant, but we can recognize that it does not have to be this way, and the only reason it seems this way is because we have, ultimately, chosen this world for ourselves.
Allen’s perhaps most famous book, entitled As a Man Thinketh, went to press in 1902 (and can be read online here free of charge). The title is transparently a reference to the words of the author of Proverbs: “As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he” (23:7), and it is that very work that we now turn:
Law, not confusion, is the dominating principle in the universe, justice, not injustice, is the soul and substance of life, and righteousness, not corruption, is the moulding and moving force in the spiritual government of the world. This being so, man has but to right himself to find that the universe is right, and during the process of putting himself right he will find that as he alters his thoughts towards things and other people, things and other people will alter towards him. (As A Man Thinketh, Chapter 2: Effect of Thought on Circumstances)
I have just said that we live in the grumpy land of grown-ups, ultimately, because we have chosen to do so. Note what Allen just said: “man has but to right himself to find that the universe is right, and during the process of putting himself right he will find that as he alters his thoughts towards things and other people, things and other people will alter towards him.” What do you suppose everyone else walking around ready to explode with hypertension most longs for? It may be a world that they have all collectively created, but most generally somewhere along the way they have thrown away the key. Or if not thrown it away, then they have set it aside someplace and effectively forgotten it exists. But what happens when you, having once “righted yourself” and now in possession of a much saner and more positive perspective, look for ways to alleviate the stress load of those around you? It may not happen overnight, but miracles are possible. Those who seemed most grumpy and least pleasant may prove to be the most amazing people you have ever met. There is goodness to be found everywhere: there is truth and beauty in all the world. However, as we see the world not as it is, but as we are, we do not always think to look for it.
Allen continues in his classic book:
The proof of this truth [that a man need only right himself to see that the world is, in fact, right] is in every person, and it therefore admits of easy investigation by systematic introspection and self-analysis. Let a man radically alter his thoughts, and he will be astonished at the rapid transformation it will effect in the material conditions of his life. Men imagine that thought can be kept secret, but it cannot; it rapidly crystallizes into habit, and habit solidifies into circumstance. Bestial thoughts crystallize into habits of drunkenness and sensuality, which solidify into circumstances of destitution and disease: impure thoughts of every kind crystallize into enervating and confusing habits, which solidify into distracting and adverse circumstances: thoughts of fear, doubt, and indecision crystallize into weak, unmanly, and irresolute habits, which solidify into circumstances of failure, indigence, and slavish dependence: lazy thoughts crystallize into habits of uncleanliness and dishonesty, which solidify into circumstances of foulness and beggary: hateful and condemnatory thoughts crystallize into habits of accusation and violence, which solidify into circumstances of injury and persecution: selfish thoughts of all kinds crystallize into habits of self-seeking, which solidify into circumstances more or less distressing. On the other hand, beautiful thoughts of all kinds crystallize into habits of grace and kindliness, which solidify into genial and sunny circumstances: pure thoughts crystallize into habits of temperance and self-control, which solidify into circumstances of repose and peace: thoughts of courage, self-reliance, and decision crystallize into manly habits, which solidify into circumstances of success, plenty, and freedom: energetic thoughts crystallize into habits of cleanliness and industry, which solidify into circumstances of pleasantness: gentle and forgiving thoughts crystallize into habits of gentleness, which solidify into protective and preservative circumstances: loving and unselfish thoughts crystallize into habits of self-forgetfulness for others, which solidify into circumstances of sure and abiding prosperity and true riches.
A particular train of thought persisted in, be it good or bad, cannot fail to produce its results on the character and circumstances. A man cannot directly choose his circumstances, but he can choose his thoughts, and so indirectly, yet surely, shape his circumstances.
Nature helps every man to the gratification of the thoughts, which he most encourages, and opportunities are presented which will most speedily bring to the surface both the good and evil thoughts.
Let a man cease from his sinful thoughts, and all the world will soften towards him, and be ready to help him; let him put away his weakly and sickly thoughts, and lo, opportunities will spring up on every hand to aid his strong resolves; let him encourage good thoughts, and no hard fate shall bind him down to wretchedness and shame. The world is your kaleidoscope, and the varying combinations of colours, which at every succeeding moment it presents to you, are the exquisitely adjusted pictures of your ever-moving thoughts. (As A Man Thinketh, Chapter 2: Effect of Thought on Circumstances)
The world is a kaleidoscope: what a thought! And, if Allen is correct, kaleidoscopes do not turn themselves. It is your wrist that turns the kaleidoscope, your hand and the arm attached to it that transforms the perspective seen through the other end.
Allen’s thoughts are over a hundred years old, and yet they are as new and fresh today as ever, scarcely faded for the century that has passed since they were penned. For my part, I have discharged my duty with gladness: I have given you the keys to go and discover this author now for yourself. I will be doing plenty of that in the weeks to come, for that is what a teacher does. A teacher’s job is not to be original, even if a creative flourish here and there is appreciated, adding a splash of color and pizazz. No, a teacher’s job is simply to introduce others to the abundant resources the universe already has to offer (a task he or she does gladly if but given an appreciative, receptive audience), and one of those resources is the writing of James Allen, unknown to many and nearly forgotten. But while you may not agree with everything Allen writes*—anymore than you agree with everything I write—I believe you will find that he is remarkably well-preserved and is capable of yet living on in transformed lives, mainly by reminding us that it is our fingers on the kaleidoscope of life, our wrist which changes the view. Then we in turn can remind others of their fingers and wrists—and so the ancient prophecy that speaks of a time in which all lack will be filled and all rough places made smooth will be that much closer to fulfillment. That is the promise of classic theology, you know: the promise and hope of a day in which all lack (and what is evil if not lack?) will be filled up with itself, will be filled up with goodness and bountiful grace, and all creatures and the entire brotherhood of humanity, all nations, all tribes, all peoples, will live together in unity as one. For now, we do well to remind people of their fingers upon the kaleidoscope, and the power of their wrist to turn the multifarious lens, bringing richer, more harmonious realities into crystalline focus, and brought into crystalline focus in turn realized, actualized, into full, living, panoramic reality. It is our fingers, our wrists, our hands and feet: we are the messengers of hope and good news to the world, ambassadors of peace, agents of reconciliation to a world still lacking, still needy, still torn, bleeding and broken. Evil is real; evil is lack. We fill up the lack even as we are filled in our own lacking. That is the nature of spiritual reality; that is what it means to have stereoscopic vision, seeing both what is and what is not yet as though it already were, to see both the hungry and the hungry filled, both the naked and the naked clothed, both the sick and infirm and the sick and infirm healed and made well: stereoscopic vision, kaleidoscope vision, spiritual vision.
God bless,
Eric
* For example, my editorial assistent, who painstakingly proofreads these newsletters, points out some possible limitations in Allen’s thought based on the excerpts above. At least in the early stages of a child’s development, she writes that the exernal environment matters far more than Allen gives it credit. Specifically, she writes: “Yet often what we become within is simply a reflection of what has been without, in the environment that nourished us. Are we not for some time a reflection of what those who nurtured us led us to believe we were, until we begin to explore our true selves?” And regarding outer circumstances affecting our minds, she suggests: “This does not take into account the chemical changes prolonged stress produces on the body/brain/mind, or the neurological connections that are created in early childhood which are not likely to be reorganized, whose mitigation takes a bit more than a ‘name it and claim it’ mindset.” I have harbored some similar thoughts—I am not at all certain, for example, that we are entirely to blame for our own ill health and physical ailment—yet I also believe I understand what Allen is saying as well: classical theology suggests that all evil and illness is ultimately the result of human sin, even if the consequences reaped by one were not necessarily the ones he/she had explicitly sown: we reap what others sow, but as we have also sown to less than honorable ends, our reaping is not entirely undeserved.
This past week, I have read hundreds of Allen’s words, and I think that taken together, he presents a compelling picture, even if it does perhaps have a rough edge or two. I also do not think Allen would necessarily deny the objections my assistent puts forth, though I think he would still “stick to his guns,” insisting that it is our responsibility to take control of our thoughts and the ordering of our lives and that if we do not, we have no one to blame but ourselves. Probably the thing that would make his words go down even more smoothly would be if he allowed for the “perhaps,” the “maybe,” and the “often times” more often, rather than his choice of language often seeming to insist on the “always” and the “never” and the “invariably.” He uses declarative sentences with few qualifiers, which gives strength to his writing, but also runs the real risk of alienating some of his readership. Few things in life do not have their exceptions, including, perhaps, this very sentence. (The previous sentence was meant to be a joke, and I ask pardon if my humor is too dry to be taken straight up.) So, read Allen critically, but do give him audience: he has more compelling ideas than he doesn’t, and if he is of as much benefit to you as he has been to me, you will not regret your efforts.
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