We trudge through in the hopes to rise. What harvest can we expect to receive at its end?
We trudge through in the hopes to rise. What harvest can we expect to receive at its end?
We sow the rugged fields,
We reap the silent harvest.
We bend our backs,
From the sky
To reach down,
Far, far below.
Today I finished the book, The Abolition of Man, which includes three essays by C.S. Lewis. As always, I am delighted and enlightened with Lewis, for his words speak to the human core, and to every man under the sun. He speaks with wit and clarity, and always reaches the heart of the matter in such a way that, to those who have ears to hear and eyes to see, their souls are left touched with a great, unspeakable weight and ache, and all the better for it.
Below are some quotes from all three essays, in their order as appears in the short book, and to which encourage you to read them in full, or to, at the very least, take as much away from them as I have. If nothing else, this is a record book to remember what inspired me and enlightened me as I read this book, and, moreover, a reminder of what I already knew, deep within.
“For every one pupil who needs to be guarded from a weak excess of sensibility there are three who need to be awakened from the slumber of cold vulgarity. The task of the modern educator is not to cut down jungles but to irrigate deserts. The right defense against false sentiments is to inculcate just sentiments. By starving the sensibility of our pupils we only make them easier prey to the propagandist when he comes. For famished nature we will be avenged and a hard heart is no infallible protection against a soft head.” pg. 27, “Men without Chests”
“Without the aid of trained emotions the intellect is powerless against the animal organism. I had sooner play cards against a man who was quite skeptical about ethics, but bred to believe that “a gentleman does not cheat,” than against an irreproachable moral philosopher who had been brought up among sharpers.” pg. 35, “Men without Chests”
“The Chest–Magnanimity–Sentiment–these are the indispensable liaison officers between cerebral man and visceral man. It may even be said that it is by this middle element that man is man: for by his intellect his is mere spirit and by his appetite mere animal. The operation of The Green Book and its kind is to produce what may be called Men without Chests.” pg. 36, “Men without Chests”
“And all the time–such is the tragi-comedy of our situation–we continue to clamour for those very qualities we are rendering impossible. You can hardly open a periodical without coming across the statement that what our civilization needs is more “drive,” or dynamism, or self-sacrifice, or “creativity.” In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.” pg. 36-37, “Men without Chests”
“Telling us to obey instinct is like telling us to obey “people.” People say different things: so do instincts. […] Each instinct, if you listen to it, will claim to be gratified at the expense of all the rest.” pg. 49, “The Way”
“The rebellion of new ideologies against the Tao is a rebellion of the branches against the tree: if the rebels could succeed they would find they had destroyed themselves. The human mind has no more power of inventing a new value than of imagining a new primary colour, or, indeed, of creating a new sun and a new sky for it to move in.” pg. 56, “The Way”
“From this point of view, what we call Man’s power over Nature turns out to be a power exercised by some men over other men with Nature as its instrument.” pg. 67, “The Abolition of Man”
“For the power of Man to make himself what he pleases means, as we have seen, the power of some men to make other men what they please.” pg. 70, “The Abolition of Man”
“It is not that they are bad men. They are not men at all. Stepping outside the Tao, they have stepped into the void. Nor are their subjects necessarily unhappy men. They are not men at all: they are artefacts. Man’s final conquest has proved to be the abolition of Man.” pg. 74, “The Abolition of Man”
“My point is that those who stand outside all judgements of value cannot have any ground for preferring one of their own impulses to another except the emotional strength of that impulse.” pg. 75, “The Abolition of Man”
“I am very doubtful whether history shows us one example of a man who, having stepped outside traditional morality and attained power, has used that power benevolently. I am inclined to think that the Conditioners will hate the conditioned.” pg. 75, “The Abolition of Man”
“Their extreme rationalism by “seeing through” all “rational” motives, leaves them creatures of wholly irrational behaviour.” pg. 76, “The Abolition of Man”
“Man’s conquest of Nature turns out, in the moment of its consummation, to be Nature’s conquest of man.” pg. 76, “The Abolition of Man”
“We reduce things to mere Nature in order that we may “conquer” them. […] The price of conquest is to treat a thing as mere Nature. […] The stars do not become Nature till we can weigh and measure them: the soul does not become Nature till we can psycho-analyse her. The wresting of powers from Nature is also the surrendering of things to Nature. […] But as soon as we take the final step of reducing our own species to the level of mere Nature, the whole process is stultified.” pg. 79, “The Abolition of Man”
“It is the magician’s bargain: give up our soul, get power in return. But once our souls, that is, our selves, have been given up, the power thus conferred will not belong to us. We shall in fact be the slaves and puppets of that to which we have given our souls.” pg. 80, “The Abolition of Man”
“We have been trying, like Lear, to have it both ways: to lay down our human prerogative and yet, at the same time to retain it. It is impossible. Either we are rational spirit obliged for ever to obey the absolute values of the Tao, or else we are mere nature to be kneaded and cut into new shapes for the pleasures of masters who must, by hypothesis, have no motive but their own “natural” impulses. […] A dogmatic belief in objective value is necessary to the very idea of a rule which is not tyranny or an obedience which is not slavery.” pg. 80-81, “The Abolition of Man”
“There are progressions in which the last step is sui generis–in commensurable with the others–and in which to go the whole way is to undo all the labour of your previous journey.” pg. 86, “The Abolition of Man”
“But you cannot go on “explaining away” for ever: you will find that you have explained explanation itself away. You cannot go on “seeing through” things for ever. The whole point of seeing through something is to see something through it. It is good that the window should be transparent, because the street or garden beyond it is opaque. How if you saw through the garden too? It is no use trying to “see through” first principles. If you see through everything, then everything is transparent. But a wholly transparent world is an invisible world. To “see through” all things is the same as not to see.” pg. 86-87, “The Abolition of Man.”
The King of the East flicked his eyes to Eun-Jung.
“You know what you must do.”
Eun-Jung stood, flustered, confused, and unsure of what to do or say to such words.
“Brother,” he repeated once more, his voice lower, more desperate, as though repeating it would remind his own brother of his promise, of his duty as the eldest of their family.
The King of the East closed his eyes and sighed deeply but said nothing.
“Brother, you do not mean this. You cannot give me this order! He is our blood! He is our brother!”
The King of the East whipped around, the first time Eun-Jung had seen his brother so outwardly aggressive.
“Do you think I have not weighed this! He has forced my hand—he has given me no choice. Would you rather that I let my people die or become enslaved to his misguided will!” The King of the East’s chest heaved from the power at which his words were delivered, each word filled with pain, but he spoke no further, and his anger was fleeting indeed.
Eun-Jung stepped back, taken aback once more.
“But…brother…what you ask of me…I, I know I am not the wisest at your disposal, nor the strongest, but certainly, you know where my loyalties lie. But this order, how am I to give this to my men, to deliver it before our people? What will they say of this?”
The King of the East had composed himself once more, his out-lash a desperate man who had been within his own council for far too long, hiding from those he wished he could trust but they were not kin—they would not know the true pain of his decision that must be made. He was haggard from the restless nights of constant battles between his head and his heart. If it were just between brothers, his choice would have been different—rather, could have been different, but it was not just his life he had to weigh, not just his concerns and it was this thought that brought the final nail in the coffin.
He saw the look in Eun-Jung’s eyes and knew that within was the same debate, though his words belied a different stance; no, it was a plea; one last desperate effort to keep things as they were, bad as it was, but they both knew that because of their youngest brother’s decision—this was impossible.
He knew Eun-Jung was the most compassionate out of all of them, the most outwardly affected by the arguments that went on between his youngest brother and he, the King of the East. He knew Eun-Jung suffered the most, for if he could not even make peace between his two brothers, how could he, then, make peace with anyone else? But the King of the East knew also, that out of the three of them, it was Eun-Jung that their youngest brother would listen to most, find no fault in his person, for it was not from his shadow he hid within, and because of this, he saw their middle brother as a man—not an ideal. Not a legend.
It was why he ordered this, not as a brother, but as a King. If his youngest brother was to hate anyone—it should be him; if he was to continue this war—it would be with the King of the East—not with his brothers.
He sighed once more and began slowly stepping down each step that kept the two of them from even ground.
“They will say outwardly—‘Our King is wise still, he has done what is right.’ What they say in their hearts, I know not, but it is for them that I do this, regardless of what rumors, scorn, or praise I will get from my choice. You must understand, brother, that I cannot think only of my family—for are my people not my family as well? Do I not protect them, and do they not, in return, protect me? What my youngest brother lashes out at is me, as a King, and thus, my response must be as a King. Do you not see this? He does not see me as his kin—no more than you consider him your enemy. I mourn for you, my brother, for here you stand—in the middle, as you have always been, have always had to be. I hope one day I cannot use you this way, but this is the King’s order—it is my decree and I shall say it again—banish our brother from my lands.
He has hurt my people, and has tried to make a mockery of my rule for his petty reasons that if he had but kept them between us, could have been treated as they were—of a young boy lashing out at shadows. But he is a boy no longer, and he has played with things he does not yet realize the full consequences of—and for this, he must take responsibility, as an adult, and as a man.”
At last they stood face-to-face, his middle brother taller than him by a few inches, but still they stood eye-to-eye: brother-to-brother.
“You must understand this. What malice I have is not for my brother, but for those that have continued to corrupt him, weakening what little he thought of me as his brother, as a companion, not as an enemy. He has suffocated under my shadow, and if this is the way I can free him, to protect him, even if it is to the wolves he goes, then this is it. This is all I can do as brother, the rest must be as King.”
Eun-Jung’s shoulders sagged, the clear devastated understanding welling up in his eyes before he closed them, hiding his emotions. When at last he opened them, his eyes were no longer the brother concerned for brother, but rather the eyes of the General of the Special Ops, whom he, the King of the East, trusted to be his greatest protection and eyes in his lands.
His brother knelt in front of him and bowed his head.
“As the King commands, thus shall I answer.” He whispered, “For brother.”
The King of the East looked down at his brother and smiled sadly, his eyes full of the emotions he could not voice as King.
“Go then, with all that you have within you as brother and as my General—go and do what must be done.”
Without another moment, his brother disappeared from his sight. Eun-Jung had said that he was not the strongest of his men, but this was untrue, yet, as always, his brother denied any glory for himself. Sometimes the King of the East wondered if things would have been different had Eun-Jung been King rather than he. He wondered if this would have even happened, if this pain would have been avoided.
But the King of the East banished those thoughts quickly, what could have been was not his to dwell.
The King of the East stood staring where his brother had once been and mourned that he could not be brother only—that he was, in some respects, what his youngest brother believed—a cold ideal.