DEO VOLENTE. Essays. - Essay II. On Perfection.

 

Essay II. On Perfection.

Dim as the borrowed beams of moon and stars,

To lonely, weary, wandering travellers,

Is Reason to the soul; and as on high

Those rolling fires discover but the sky,

Not light us here, so Reason's glimmering ray

Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way,

But guide us upward to a better day.

And as those nightly tapers disappear

When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere,

So pale grows Reason at Religion's sight,—

So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light.

DRYDEN.

‘Nature abhors a vacuum.’ SPINOZA.

SINCE the earliest times it has been the most maddening of problems to attempt to reconcile the presence of evil with the existence of God. From the Book of Job to Soame Jenyns’ Review, from Johnson’s review of that Review to the present-day pragmatism which ordains that it is correct and good to pump as many drugs  into one’s system as necessary in order to remain alive, if not quite well, until the final point when one administers the euthanasia drug because the entire process has become futile. Why mortal life is now thought so good a thing as to justify the former course of action, but then subsequently so bad as to necessitate the latter course of action, it is difficult to perceive. Perhaps the presumption is one of mere sense experience; that life is worth living so far as it can be pleasurably sensual, but worth killing the moment it becomes an irremediable torment of pain. Many would doubtless agree with this presumption, it appeals to the logic of judging things as they come. Be it so, but in that case let none be in any doubt that suicide is also justifiable in almost every case: for if the suicide were not already enduring more pain than he would prefer he would not firstly contemplate, and then finally commit, the act of euthanasia which he ratifies in private. Nor can any partaking of this creed truly discard the idea of rational and justified murders, for it is only a matter of formality how the killing which is established as lawful is committed; gunshots are swifter than injections.

   However this question is, properly so considered, not a moral question but a metaphysical question, which  might be expressed thus: Is there a real imperfection in the nature of things, or the things of nature, which causes the imperfections of our perception? If so, God cannot exist unless He is imperfect, and if He is imperfect then He has lost His claim to the title of God. In order to satisfy this doubt the mind must plumb the deeper layers of existence, perhaps to find a single answer amongst a myriad of questions.

   Seldom since the modern triumphs of scepticism and atomic theory has the pluralist conception of existence been questioned, and it ought to be. It ought to be questioned because it is apparent that there are logical problems concerned in it. Consider for instance what it is to divide something. It is not to alter it, for the sea alters without division, it is not to classify it, for France is France and Vienna is Vienna but Europe is both; it is not to expand it, or if it is—indeed it is a strange manner of expansion. It could only be to destroy it. Firstly however it is very necessary, as it is always very necessary in logic, to abstract the colloquial sense from the actual meaning; division is not the dissent of a country, or the slicing of a cake, or the fracture of a cliff. These might be the effects of division but they are not divisional of themselves, they are, as perceived, variations in the substance of life. Spinoza expressed this idea, but not always quite adequately, as a variety of modes in a substance. Perhaps in the modern vernacular of vanity the idea could be called the modes of fashion in dress but not the cloth. Fundamentally however, the question hinges on whether existence is one thing or simply a name for referring to many things.

   Rather like the old debate between mind and matter, as well as free will and necessity, the debate between monism and pluralism is a stubborn one. Bertrand Russell says in his History that ‘the predicate “one” is not applicable to things, but only to unit classes.’ Meaning presumably, for presumption is always necessary in the analyses of Russell, that one is a quantity always implying two, therefore it is always of a plural class or sequence. To this the monist can swiftly reply that plurality is an idea which always implies one, that if it did not imply one there could not be the sequence, that this one being implied its succeeding units, such as two, three, four, and so on to twenty-billion &c., are only so many of these imagined ones added together, that if any of these numbers are in fact divided by themselves they make one, and that one being the foundation of every other number, or unit, or class, it is at once both itself and everything else because if it disappeared so would all that it supports. Indeed, a cake can be cut into slices with a knife, indeed, validly several slices are made, but the cake is not the universe and the knife is not true insight. The knife may cut the cake but it cannot cut the universe. Therefore, although the one which is imagined of a cake, or a bread loaf, or a book by Bertrand Russell, may be cut, the One which is not only imagined but is actually true, the One which is the universe—the one existence—may not be cut, cannot be cut, and will not be. Pluralism confuses understanding for truth: the nature of the tool for the nature of the job.

    

An oil puddle.

   ‘Moreover, because we can determine Duration and Quantity as we please, namely, when we conceive the latter abstracted from Substance and we separate the former from the mode whereby it flows from eternal things, there arise Time and Measure; Time to determine Duration and Measure to determine Quantity in such a way that, as far as possible, we may imagine them easily. Then because we separate the states of Substance from Substance itself, and reduce them to classes, so that, as far as possible, we may imagine them easily, there arises Number by which we determine them. Hence one can see clearly that Measure, Time, and Number, are nothing but Modes of thought or rather of imagination. Therefore it is not to be wondered at that all who have tried to understand the course of Nature by such Notions, and these moreover ill understood, should have so marvellously entangled themselves that at length they could not extricate themselves except by breaking up everything and committing even the most absurd absurdities. For since there are many things which we cannot grasp with the imagination, but only with the intellect, such as Substance, Eternity, and others—if any one tries to explain such things by Notions of this kind, which are merely aids to the imagination, he does nothing more than take pains to rave with his imagination. And even the Modes of Substance themselves can never be rightly understood if they are confused with such things of Reason or with aids of the imagination. For when we do this we separate from Eternity, without which, however, they cannot be rightly understood.

   ‘In order that you may see this still more clearly take this example: if anyone conceived Duration abstractly, and, confusing it with Time, began to divide it into parts, he would never be able to understand how, for instance, an hour can pass. For in order that the hour may pass it will be necessary for the half of it to pass first, and then a half of what is left, and then a half of what remains of this remainder; and if you thus go on indefinitely, subtracting the half of what is left, you will never be able to reach the end of the hour. Therefore, many who have not got used to distinguishing the things of reason from real things, have dared to declare that Duration is composed of moments, and so have rushed upon Scylla in their desire to avoid Charybdis. For to say that Duration is composed of moments is the same as to say that Number is obtained from the mere addition of noughts.

   ‘Moreover, as is sufficiently clear from what has just been said, neither Number, nor Measure, nor Time, inasmuch as they are only aids of the imagination, can be infinite. For otherwise Number would not be number, nor Measure measure, nor Time time. Hence one may see clearly why many who confused these three with real things, because they did not know the true nature of things, actually denied that there is an infinite.’ SPINOZA.

   If one were to dismiss this very good objection about the infinite regress of divisional measure, as one caused merely by the constraints of language or numerical representation, then it will be observed that other impossibilities are caused. Assuming that the non-existent could exist somehow, and could thereby divide substance, it must follow that it would not only separate but consume all the substance it interrupts. In a finite universe of substance this must follow of necessity because, if existence were finite, then it could only be made finite by non-existence. That non-existence, however, would have to be infinite or it would be disproved. Nothing means no thing. Therefore no amount of finite existence could exist amid non-existence. In a universe which was infinite the same incompatibility would exist. If an infinite amount of substance were divided by vacuities of non-existence, then there would be an infinite number of divisions. Consequently there would be nothing to divide, for it is a necessary logic that a universe filled with an infinite amount of non-existence does not exist.

   These are the paradoxes of pluralism. They are quite simple and quite conclusive. The fact that all empirical evidence suggests that substances are limited and separated is of no moment. As it is impossible that the Earth should be flat, though it seems flat, so it is impossible that the universe should be disconnected, though it seems disconnected. Pluralism is therefore false and monism true, and it is best to try and grasp this fact mathematically. 0, that is nought, was a symbol invented by the Arabs in their decimal system which made calculations simpler by allowing itself to be employed as a divider or bookmark. For nought is of course not a number at all, but the lack of a number

Table of Real Numerical Values:

 0 = 0

1 = 1

2 = 1 + 1

3 = 1 + 1 + 1

4 = 1 + 1 + 1 + 1

etc.

+ = ÷ (All addition is mental division.)

– = × (All subtraction is mental multiplication of prior division.)

   God-thinkers do not believe in quantities, for quantities are the very laziest expedients of misunderstanding. They accept them of course as facts in human activity, abstract aids to the imagination, but they never will let them interfere with the vital and mystical faith which underpins all healthy impulse. For whereas in matters specific, pluralism and variety become necessary because conceptual detachments occur, in matters general, monism and ultimate congruity become necessary as then conceptual incorporations occur. Hence every isolated and disconnected sphere, every particular study, and each specialised observation, per force creates the divisions which are the common assumptions of human thought. That such a process is necessary is apparent and natural, because the mind of man is too inferior to compass all things. But that such a method, by its process of isolation, should consequently eliminate from existence those things it does not isolate, or cannot isolate, is an assumption without justification.

   It is for this reason that such trouble has been caused in conceptualising God and Infinity. Infinitude cannot be realised in finitude. That is why recurring numbers are never infinite, because they are ever expanding. That is why astronomical mathematics are fundamentally flawed, because they act on the false premise that multiples of finite numbers can reach to infinity. In saying that 1 is greater than 2 I do not mean that the mathematical 1 is greater than the mathematical 2, I mean that the actual 1 is greater than the mathematical 2, because the mathematical 2 is in truth fictitious. It is merely an actual ½, and 10 is an actual 1/10, 300 is an actual 1/300, and 7000 is an actual 1/7000. Any division of a whole and absolute existence must lessen that existence, yet the entire study of mathematics bases itself on the assumption that the division of all things accounts for an increase in all things. Thus the truth of splitting a rock in two is that the rock is halved in size, yet in the purely numerical mathematics it is supposed that the unit of the one rock is doubled to make two. The numerical thing increases as the real thing lessens. These are the realities of the study of mathematics, it is a study as paradoxical and endlessly flawed as astrology, but much like astrology it is useful to some purposes. It ought never to be blindly trusted however, especially in matters of philosophy, as it has been of late. A boat built for the Serpentine is unworthy of the Atlantic.

   He who finds difficulty in imagining the ineradicable contiguity of existence should take up a book and look at it for half a minute, then imagine everything beyond it were destroyed. He who holds that existence is not contiguous must conclude that, in those circumstances, the book would retain its simple existence, although it could no longer be observed for lack of light and observer, although it could no longer adhere to its binding for lack of exterior gravity, although it could no longer be logically explained for lack of antecedent surrounds, although it could no longer be justified in space or time because it is without every relative, still he must think it exists. What is sensible in such a notion?

   I have dwelt upon this point because it is this question of division, and whether division exists at all except in the mind, that is supremely vital in the delineation between mortal scholarship and immortal truth. Without it the notion of perfection gradually forms itself out of the precedent considerations. The immortal infinity of God establishes His personality for, living within himself only, and being omnipotent, omniscient, and immortal, He is considered in His totality perfect, but when considered in a particulate isolation imperfect. Providence is therefore the automatic system of His imperfect parts forming in their infinite totality the perfect Whole. Yet some might ask how God’s existence resolves the problem of purpose in the universe. ‘Whether He exists or no’, they might ask, ‘what difference does it make? That which has no end has no purpose.’ Of course, that is simply the tragic philosophy of the mortal who sees nothing but his own transience reflected throughout all the universe. Its obvious answer is, naturally, how can purpose possibly exist without eternity? If everything is to end utterly in destruction it is foolish indeed to talk of purpose; but as science holds it a sacred rule that nothing is destroyed in the universe, only transmuted or distributed, it is obvious that existence is a thing which is absolutely everlasting. However time is perceived in seasons, units, or sensations, it is not actual in infinity.

   Such a thought has the effect of convincing a mortal, for a moment, of his own insignificance. So unpleasant is this effect that the mortal tends either to ignore it or to deride it as impossible. He is thus brought to a point of absurdity where he prefers to contemplate a purposeless universe than one which is so purposeful that it needs not him. Yet immaturity’s egoism may be conquered in time. It is a valid question to wonder how God fulfils a purpose unto Himself. That He should do so without us, or the earth, should no more frustrate the vexatious spirit than the thought that water, which nourishes every man, should flow without being ingested into our stomachs. We are not without our utility, not without our virtues and purposes, but let none think for a moment that if the earth imploded to-day it would be any more of a catastrophe to God than the collapse of an anthill in Cambodia is a catastrophe to England. When a piece is lost in a game of chess the advantage of the piece is lost but the advantage of movement is gained; and, after all, in the grand scheme, we know that even the advantage of the piece can never be lost. Now think a comparison an answer. Suppose Michelangelo lived next door to a wastrel. The one, Michelangelo, employs his time in fashioning the most incomparable works of art; the other, the wastrel, spends his time degrading the work of art which was originally himself. The life of the one is plainly unequal to the life of the other, however much an American might argue for his politics’ sake to the contrary. So the death of the one is unequal to the death of the other. If I had it in my power to grant an hundred years of life to one, I should grant them to Michelangelo, let the wastrel perish. This is paralleled in God. God is equivalent, but obviously yet superior, to Michelangelo, and I am equivalent to the wastrel. Why should I worry over my death when the life of my superior lasts? He will continue to produce the infinity of art caused by his nature; I only will cease, and that will be a largely profitable thing to the world. Although we should not despise ourselves, for we too are granted purpose by our Master, certainly we should not revere ourselves. Should the cog revere itself? If it might revere anything, let it revere the clock.

   Think of a jar of honey floating in a sewer. Obviously these two things are different and of themselves separate, but their interaction, the jar of honey floating through the sewer and the sewer buoying up the jar, disproves the absolute idea that they are divided. There is a unity in the cohabitation of opposites, and though in the supposititious imagery of pantheism it is common that, instead of the distinct relations of each part to the universal whole, everything should be compounded together in an unvarying mass of immoveable defect, that is a mere and cynical assumption. ‘In my Father’s house are many mansions.’ A more accurate image, it seems to me, would be that of a vault with an infinity of deposit boxes, or a mosaic eternally spanning time with its startling colours.

   ‘And therefore thou, that settest thee to be contemplative as Mary was, choose thee rather to be meeked under the wonderful height and the worthiness of God, the which is perfect than under thine own wretchedness, the which is imperfect: that is to say, look that thy special beholding be more to the worthiness of God than to thy wretchedness. For to them that be perfectly meeked, no thing shall be wanting, neither ghostly things nor bodily. For they have God, in whom is all plenty; and whoso hath him—yea, as this book telleth—he needeth nought else in this life.’ THE CLOUD OF UNKNOWING.