Ethics and philosophy

A moral act must be our own act; must spring from our own will. If we act mechanically, there is no moral content in our act. Such action would be moral, if we think it proper to act like a machine and do so. For, in doing so, we use our discrimination. We should bear in mind the distinction between acting mechanically and acting intentionally. It may be moral of a king to pardon a culprit. But the messenger carrying out the order of pardon plays only a mechanical part in the king's moral act. But if the messenger were to carry out the king's order considering it to be his duty, his action would be a moral one. How can a man understand morality who does not use his own intelligence and power of thought, but lets himself be swept along like a log of wood by a current? Sometimes a man defies convention and acts on his own with a view to absolute good.

A country under foreign domination seeks escape from the present in dreams of a vanished age, and finds consolation in visions of past greatness. That is a foolish and dangerous pastime in which many of us indulge. An equally questionable practice for us in India is to imagine that we are still spiritually great though we have come down in the world in other respects. Spiritual or any other greatness cannot be founded on lack of freedom and opportunity, or on starvation and misery. Many western writers have encouraged that notion that Indians are other worldly. I suppose the poor and unfortunate in every country become to some extent other-worldly, unless they become revolutionaries, for, this world is evidently not meant for them. So also subject peoples.

As a man grows to maturity he is not entirely engrossed in, or satisfied with, the external objective world. He seeks also some inner meaning, some psychological and physical satisfactions. So also with peoples and civilizations as they mature and grow adult. Every civilization and every people exhibit these parallel streams of an external life and an internal life. Where they meet or keep close to each other, there is an equilibrium and stability. When they diverge conflict arises and the crises that torture the mind and spirit.

The miseries of the world cannot be cured by physical help only. Until man’s nature changes, his physical needs will always arise, and miseries will always be felt, and no amount of physical help will remove them completely. The only solution of the problem is to make mankind pure. Ignorance is the mother of evil and of all the misery we see. Let men have light, let them be pure and spiritually strong and educated; then alone will misery cease in the world. We may convert every house in the country into a charitable asylum, we may fill the land with hospitals, but human misery will continue until man’s character changes.

A stout old lady was walking with her basket down the middle of a street in Petrograd to the great confusion of the traffic and no small peril to herself. It was pointed out to her that the pavement was the place for foot-passengers, but she replied, “I’m going to walk where I like. We’ve got liberty now.” It did not occur to the dear lady that if liberty entitled the foot-passenger to walk down the middle of the road it also entitled the taxi-driver to drive on the pavement, and that the end of such liberty would be universal chaos. Everything would be getting in everybody else’s way and nobody would get anywhere. Individual liberty would have become social anarchy.

I must say that, beyond occasionally exposing me to laughter, my constitutional shyness has been of no disadvantage whatever. In fact I can see that, on the contrary, it has been all to my advantage. My hesitancy in speech, which was once an annoyance, is now a pleasure. Its greatest benefit has been that it has taught me the economy of words. I have naturally formed the habit of restraining my thoughts. And I can now give myself the certificate that a thoughtless word hardly ever escapes my tongue or pen. I do not recollect ever having had to regret anything in my speech or writing. I have thus been spared many a mishap and waste of time. Experience has taught me that silence is part of the spiritual discipline of a votary of truth. Proneness to exaggerate, to suppress or modify the truth, wittingly or unwittingly, is a natural weakness of man, and silence is necessary in order to surmount it. A man of few words will rarely be thoughtless in his speech; he will measure every word. We find so many people impatient to talk. There is no chairman of a meeting who is not pestered with notes for permission to speak. And whenever the permission is given the speaker generally exceeds the time-limit, asks for more time, and keeps on talking without permission. All this talking can hardly be said to be of any benefit to the world. It is so much waste of time. My shyness has been in reality my shield and buckler. It has allowed me to grow. It has helped me in my discernment of truth.

In general, religious traditions stress our duty to god, or to some universal ethical principle. Our duties to one another derive from these. The religious concept of rights is primarily derived from our relationship to this divinity or principle and the implication it has on our other relationships. This correspondence between rights and duties is critical to any further understanding of justice. But, for justice to be practiced; virtue, rights and duties cannot remain formal abstractions. They must be grounded in a community (common unity) bound together by a sense of common union (communion). Even as a personal virtue, this solidarity is essential to the practice and understanding of justice.

The man who is perpetually hesitating which of the two things he will do first, will do neither. The man who resolves, but suffers his resolution to be changed by the first counter-suggestion of a friend—who fluctuates from opinion to opinion and veers from plan to plan—can never accomplish anything. He will at best be stationary and probably retrograde in all. It is only the man who first consults wisely, then resolves firmly and then executes his purpose with inflexible perseverance, undismayed by those petty difficulties which daunt a weaker spirit—that can advance to eminence in any line.

The very first lesson that should be taught to us when we are old enough to understand it, is that complete freedom from the obligation to work is unnatural, and ought to be illegal, as we can escape our share of the burden of work only by throwing it on someone else’s shoulders. Nature ordains that the human race shall perish of famine if it stops working. We cannot escape from this tyranny. The question we have to settle is how much leisure we can afford to allow ourselves.

There is no harm in cultivating habits so long as they are not injurious. Indeed, most of us are little more than bundle of habits. Take away our habits and the residuum would hardly be worth bothering about. We could not get on without them. They simplify the mechanism of life. They enable us to do a multitude of things automatically, which, if we had to give fresh and original thought to them each time, would make existence an impossible confusion.

The greatest blessing that technological progress has in store for mankind is not, of course, an accumulation of material possessions. The amount of these that can be effectively enjoyed by one individual in one lifetime is not great. But there is not the same narrow limit to the possibilities of the enjoyment of leisure. The gift of leisure may be abused by people who have had no experience of making use of it. Yet the creative use of leisure by a minority in societies has been the mainspring of all human progress beyond the primitive level.

I am a scientist, privileged to be somebody who tries to understand nature using the tools of science. But it is also clear that there are some really important questions that science cannot really answer, such as: Why is there something instead of nothing? Why are we here? In those domains, I have found that faith provides a better path to answers. I find it oddly anachronistic that in today’s culture there seems to be a widespread presumption that scientific and spiritual views are incompatible.

With respect to what are called denominations of religion, if everyone is left to be a judge of his own religion, there is no such thing as religion that is wrong; but if they are to be a judge of each other’s religion, there is no such thing as a religion that is right, and therefore all the world is right or all the world is wrong in the matter of religion.

Nothing can exist in a natural state which can be called good or bad by common assent, since every man who is in a natural state consults only his own advantage, and determines what is good or bad according to his own fancy and insofar as he has regard for his own advantage alone, and holds himself responsible to no one save himself by any law; and therefore sin cannot be conceived in a natural state, but only in a civil state, which is decreed by common consent what is good or bad, and each one holds himself responsible to the state.

“...... most people would agree that telling deliberate lies is wrong, except perhaps in certain special situations where more harm will be done by telling the truth. Even the most truthful people probably tell a good many more lies that might be regarded as semantic lies; their use of words contains some measure of falsehood, more or less deliberate.”

For two or three generations past, ever-increasing numbers of individuals have been living as workers merely, not as human beings. An excessive amount of labour is rule today in every circle of society, with the result that man’s spiritual element cannot thrive. He finds it very difficult to spend his little leisure in serious activities. He does not want to think; or he cannot even if he wants to. He seeks not self-improvement, but entertainment which would enable him to be mentally idle and to forget his usual activities. Therefore, the so-called culture of our age is dependant more on cinema than on theatre, more on newspapers, magazines and crime stories than on serious literature.

If presents bring less thrill now that we are grown up, perhaps it is because we have too much already; or perhaps it is because we have lost the fullness of the joy of giving, and with it the fullness of the joy of receiving. Children’s fears are poignant, their miseries are acute, but they do not look too forward nor too far backward. Their joys are clear and complete, because they have not yet learnt always to add ‘but’ to every proposition. Perhaps we are too cautious, too anxious, too sceptical. Perhaps some of our cares would shrink if we thought less about them and entered with more single-minded enjoyment into the happiness that come our way.

The majority of people who fail to accumulate money sufficient for their needs, are generally, easily influenced by the opinions of others. They permit the newspapers and the gossiping neighbours to do their thinking for them. Opinions are the cheapest commodities on the earth. Everyone has a flock of opinions ready to be wished upon by anyone who will accept them. If you are influenced by opinions when you reach decisions, you will not succeed in any undertaking.

The paradox of choice is illustrated by the story of Buridan’s ass. Jean Buridan, the 14th century philosopher, wrote about free will and the inability to choose due to numerous choices and uncertainties. In the story, a donkey stands between two equally appealing stacks of hay. Unable to decide which to eat, it starves to death. Changes in technology and innovations such as smart phones and tablets only exacerbate our glut of choices. Constant connectivity and overconsumption of real-time data and social media can leave little room for self-reflection and rest, making decisions more difficult. Life is about choices. Many people are overwhelmed with attractive life choices, yet find themselves unhappy and anxious.

“Science by itself is not enough, there must be a force and discipline outside the sciences to coordinate them and point to a goal. It is not possible to run a course aright when the goal itself has not been rightly placed. What science needs is philosophy — the analysis of scientific method and the coordination of scientific purposes and results; without this, any science must be superficial. Government suffers, precisely like science, for lack of philosophy. Philosophy bears to science the same relationship which statesmanship bears to politics: movement guided by total knowledge and perspective, as against aimless and individual seeking. Just as the pursuit of knowledge becomes scholasticism when divorced from the actual needs of men and life, so the pursuit of politics becomes a destructive bedlam when divorced from science and philosophy.”

Only with long experience and opening of his wares on many a beach where his language is not spoken, will the merchant come to know the worth of what he carries, and what is parochial and what is universal in his choice. Such delicate goods as justice, love and honour, courtesy, and indeed all the things we care for, are valid everywhere but they are variously moulded and often differently handled, and sometimes nearly unrecognizable if you meet them in a foreign land, and the art of learning fundamental common values is perhaps the greatest gain of travel to those who wish to live at ease among their fellows.

Unlike religion and science, poetry does not posit or expect any belief in absolute truths. Those forces or individuals who claim to have absolute truths in their grasp tend to turn dictatorial and tyrannical. Truth usually does not admit any contradictions or imperfections. It is unitarian. It is, therefore, not of much use for poetry. Poetry abides by the plurality of life and existence. Perhaps poetry follows reality which is plural, anachronistic, full of contradictions. Against the tyranny of truth, poetry remains a partisan of democratic reality. Against the arrogance of power, wealth and hierarchy, poetry proposes both humility and defiance.

The flower was not invented to please us. It flaunted its petals and spread its perfume to attract an insect. The insect carries the pollen from flower to flower so that pollen is not carried away by wind and thus not wasted. What we call a flower’s beauty is merely a by-product and a human invention. The perfume is not there to please us, it pleases us because it is there and we have been conditioned to it.

Trust stands commonly defined as being vulnerable to others. Entrepreneurship implies trust in others and willingness to expose oneself to betrayal. Trust in expert systems is the essence of globalizing behaviour; trust itself emerges as a super-commodity in the social market and defines the characteristics of goods and services in a global market. Trusting conduct also means holding others in good esteem, and an optimism that they are, or will be, competent in certain respects.

Was it the sun-dappled ambience, the strawberries and cream, the frustration of Flavio Cobolli’s unforced errors against Serbian Novak Djokovic on Centre Court or simply the crushing weight of being a 64-year-old man in the third act of a very public life? Whatever the reason, Hugh Grant, the actor, deserves empathy. There he was, in the Royal Box at Wimbledon, flanked by Britain’s well-dressed and well-rested spectators, watching the men’s singles quarterfinals, when the actor did something quietly radical: head at a tilt, eyes closed, utterly unbothered, he took a nap. So praise be to Grant for serving up an unexpected ace. In that small, delicious moment, he didn’t merely catch forty winks, he made an elegant case for surrender. Not to laziness, but to limits. To the body’s quiet wisdom over society’s relentless performance metrics. Wimbledon had its tennis. The perpetually sleep-deprived discovered a leading man, not of action, but of rest.