Evil.

IF evil were anything other than the absence of virtue it would needs be that perfection must be the attainment of evil qualities as well as good, as that would be a part of the truest fulfilment, but as all evil is only ever truly discerned by what it is not, it may be realised that evil is ever an illusion, and that all fear is only of fear itself.

   ‘The knowledge of evil is inadequate knowledge; hence it follows that if the human mind has none but adequate ideas, it would form no notion of evil.’ SPINOZA.

    ‘In other words, if our consciousness could expand so as to fill the infinite Universe—of course an absurd supposition—there would be no shadow of evil in it.’ J. ALLANSON PICTON.

    Bertrand Russell is very critical of this view, which has been often propounded in the history of moral idealism. He takes the view that cruelty for example is as positively certain a thing as kindness. In order to be cruel one must actively seek to damage somebody. Torture, he thinks, is a motivated and positive (or definite) deed. Torture is not the absence of peace but the presence of violence. There is force in this perspective, but it fails to comprehend quite Spinoza’s meaning. Take a sad example of behaviour, a behaviour which is often observed in murderers during their childhood: the torture of animals. Objectively speaking, and it is difficult to view so barbarous a thing objectively, the deeds of the torturer are not extraordinary. By this I mean, in order to hurt an animal it only requires movement of the limbs. Some forms of torture indeed might require no definite action at all; such are the sins of omission. Simply neglecting to give a pet enough water or food will cause it to suffer, and if this is done purposefully it is cruel. However, objectively the actions or omissions of two people might be the same, though only one could be considered cruel or a torturer. Suppose for instance that there are two owners each of a dog, and both neglect to give their dog food or water for a week. The same amount of suffering has been caused for each dog, but in this case only one owner has chosen not to give his dog any food or water. The other has been laid up in hospital unable to help even himself. So it may be observed in this that evil or harm has been caused by a lack of action in both cases, but only the one case is perceived as morally wrong, the other is an unfortunate accident.

   This example may be tested further as an interesting study of how mutable morality really is. Suppose in the case of the man who is being actually cruel, and is enjoying the panting and whining of his pet, that his dog is very fat. The fact that his dog is fat does not change the fact that it is suffering, nor does it alter the fact that the owner is being cruel. Yet suppose furthermore that the owner laid up in hospital has a sickly dog that is very thin, and after a week without any nutrition it dies. Greater evil or harm is caused by the less morally blameworthy owner than is caused by the more morally blameworthy owner. (To remedy a possible objection let us suppose that the owner in hospital has no friends or family and is in a coma, so he cannot ask someone to check on his dog. It is a melancholy reflection that such cases are not altogether rare in this highly populated world.) Can we say this hospitalised owner has been more immoral than the cruel owner? Can we deny, however, that the cruel owner has caused less harm to his dog?

   To present some more examples, suppose a horse kicks its owner and kills him. The owner’s friend, nearby and distraught, shoots and kills the horse. Is this justice? Some might say, the friend is in the wrong because he has learnt morality and the horse has not; but some others might say, the friend had a reason for his killing and the horse had none. On the contrary, the horse had been well looked after by his owner, and ought not to be so unruly. It is a bad tempered horse, its violence is unwarranted. Do we not then have a double standard? We marvel at the beauty of a lion or a tiger, animals which will kill for no reason, purely because it is in their nature, and sympathise with them even when they are put down; ‘they know no better’, but equally are there not such people in the world as well? Terrible people, people whom we dreadfully fear, who are like to these animals? Murderers can have no reason for their crimes, almost it seems that bloodlust is in their nature; it is unmotivated and irrational. Many animal rights protestors object to the hunting of foxes but not to the killing sprees they go on in chicken coops. Foxes kill for the love of it, dogs too for that matter, they will often kill more than they can eat. Can we not give the benefit of the doubt to people as well as to animals? If not, ought we even to give the benefit of the doubt to animals? It is a nuisance to be such a contrarian I realise, but how can morality be sustained if it is not tested?

   Another example might be motivated cruelty and murder. Doubtless it happens, somewhere on a remote island, or up in the sky, certain terrorists might be tortured in order to acquire vital information. Suppose every other strategy has been tried, the terrorists are proud, they will not yield, so adherent are they to their cause. Let us suppose that two terrorists knew all the details of the attacks on the World Trade Centre in 2001, but they will not yield to cajoling, persuasion, or bribery. Nothing else will work. Should an operative stop at this point, although he has been given strong reason to believe that an attack might be imminent and that these two men know something about it? Should he not have recourse to torture? Let it be supposed that he does have recourse to torture and that he learns of the planned attacks, that they are consequently foiled, and the lives of 3,000 innocents are saved. Was the torture moral? Rather was it not immoral and yet had a good effect? Would the decision not to torture be moral, though it lead to mass slaughter?

   I do not mean to defeat the common sense of law and morality by picturing so many objectionable instances. Exceptions prove the rule. Yet do we not respect the soldier who fights for our nation, our people, and our heritage? ‘He beareth not the sword in vain.’  There is no example of evil which does not show that evil itself is a perspective founded in worldly assumptions. Even the most evil deeds, deeds where there can be provided no justification, is philosophically objectionable. Take the worst kind of murderer in the eyes of society: the murderer who has been apprised of all that is good and moral on earth, given every opportunity for happiness and prosperity, and yet murders his family. I struggle to conceive what in the eyes of most people would be worse, a motive or none; whether he did it in order to receive sympathy, by casting the blame on someone else, or simply because he felt like doing it. Suppose he sets his house on fire and receives an enormous insurance claim, and deceives the world by pinning the blame on another, is that worse than having no reason at all? Whichever be thought worse as showing everything that this man is not in our eyes: not a good person, not someone who looks after his family, not someone who thinks about others as much as himself, not trustworthy to others, not good for society, not to be emulated by anyone else as an example, yet we may see how right Spinoza is. Fundamentally, it is perspective which classifies all of these things. ‘There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.’ That does not render morality and law anything but vital and necessary to us, for it is dreadfully real to us, as real as the sun or the ground; but to God - to Ultimate Perspective - it cannot be real. From His perspective, from that of the universe and of existence as a whole, evil is utterly subsumed and eclipsed; and beyond that eclipse: a transcendent Glory, which we should make it our entire mortal business to conceive and to love.

 

Regarding Miracles.

REGARDING miracles, I do not accept impossibility, only the unexpected. There is an infinity of difference between something being impossible and something being irregular. For example, it may be that in another world somewhere some beings walk on water, or replicate food, or turn water into wine. I mean all of this without explanation, for as Sherlock Holmes says, ‘I begin to think, Watson, that I make a mistake in explaining. “Omne ignotum pro magnifico,” you know, and my poor little reputation, such as it is, will suffer shipwreck if I am so candid.’ Most societies on earth already achieve these things, but as they are achieved through described processes, and not instantaneous, they are not miracles; or rather, they are not considered miracles. Where it is normal in another world for the shadow of the sundial to move backwards it would be a miracle for it to move forwards.

   Of course, within the scheme of infinity it is also latently possible that charlatanism should occur. Those who intend to give a false impression of power by deceiving the fallible senses, or a too gullible reasoning, may of course do so. Equally, those people who recognise these designing persons for the cozeners they are need fear no charge of blasphemy, for there are flying as well as flightless birds. Miracle after all refers mostly to an emotion. Anything may happen, no man is endowed with the all-seeing power which should provide for him in declaring that certain things may not happen. Indeed, if any man had such a power, he himself would be the possible cause of the unusual (or miraculous) happening. Science itself must make provision for possibilities in the universe which would be entirely miraculous to our thoughts or feelings. As the statement ‘all sheep are white’ is destroyed by one black sheep only, so the certitudes of physics and chemistry can be broken, and probably are broken, by the untested regions we do not know. Even the same regions of space have had different circumstances at different times and would, therefore, provide wildly variant results to the same empirical experiments. This defeats a common argument of atheism, that scientific books contain better or more lasting truths than the Bible, because the Bible could never be written again whereas the science experiments could be performed again. The Bible, if it were lost, could be written again. Inspiration where it exists will manifest itself. Experiments on the other hand change by the day, and there never was a more revisionist practice than science.

   We are so alike in truth to the times of the early Christians, the cultists of Dionysus, the Druids, or even of Hesiod, that we are as willing to see a miracle as to credit it. Sometimes it so happens that I surround myself with all convenience of the times in which I live, with packaged food and drink, water sparkling like champagne, delicately quenching my thirst without intoxicating my senses, most palatable chocolate, excellent music, a comfortable bed, films to enjoy, games to play, a chair to sit in and books to read, a dog to keep company, and yet amid all this I can still have a headache, or feel nauseated, or irritated. At such a time I am no more accommodated than Diogenes in his barrel to feel better. Patience, the virtue to withstand the perceived elongation of time, is all: and all frayed. There are circumstances more overpowering and influential than any quantity of brandy, or food, or good company may allay. Upon such occasions we are willing that any sudden and startling change should occur, and perhaps the desire may sometimes contribute to the fulfilment of the miracle, as prophesy to its own realisation.  

   A madman sees signs in everything and nothing, a sane man does not see signs. Nay, all thought and language is comprised of signs, a sane man too sees signs in everything, but the right signs. What indeed are the right signs? The signs the majority are trained to see, not the signs they are not trained to see and which therefore, of course, do not really exist. Does any symbol exist? As an artistic depiction we say yes, as a notion we say yes, as an object we say no unless it be such an object as a cross, but the artistic depiction again fashioned from material. Physically no, we say they do not exist. There is no inch to be found in the world, no gallon, no minute, only an inch of something, a gallon's worth of liquid, a minute's worth of ticking. The sign is a measure only. Where is the original triangle, the true square, the absolute circle? In Plato's beautiful theory: somewhere, another dimension perhaps, or maybe our defective senses see only irregularity as a mite walking on the surface of Lo Sposalizio. The universe seems vast and bleak to us, but so must the human body seem to a blood cell.

   Doubt is so involved in our beings that we never can be certain of anything. When we tip our teacups to our mouths there is nothing which may prove absolutely that the tea’s fluid will not fall upwards instead of downwards. It would be unusual, and certainly inconvenient, but it needs only happen once to become possible. We may be glad generally that miracles do not occur, such things might be as troublesome as happy. If I miraculously woke up and saw people doffing their hats to me as they commuted to work through the firmament, like Mary Poppins, by means of their umbrellas, I would be disconcerted, and not necessarily convinced of theism. For I never have much understood the argument or proof of God by miracle. If Jesus Christ, whom I have no trouble in calling my saviour, did certainly resurrect Lazarus, still the waters, walk on them, make banquets of a few loaves and fishes, and cured by touch diseases, I might rejoice in the good these things did to people in those days, but what good do they confer on me? I might be as willing by this standard to believe that Jesus was a magician or a mythical being as that he was the Son of God. No, it is not His miracles but His words, His life, His philosophy, His character, which are to me a revelation. My faith is not founded on Daniel being preserved from the lions, it is founded on Daniel’s existence itself, on the existence of man. If Jesus can be so wonderful a being, then surely so must God be. There is the revelation of God in my eyes. The sermon on the mount is more miraculous, I mean in an expressive way, than the raising of Lazarus. The sermon on the mount has done more for humanity, in that it has done more to increase faith. Therefore on miracles I might remain neutral, as they are not important to me, unless the whole of existence be called a miracle. Then might I heartily partake of the general acclamation and joy.