I have a friend who works at Grinnell College in Iowa, and she recently shared an article on FB about Grinnell's policy of self-governance within the student body.
You can read the story here. It's a quick and easy read, and I'd like for you to check it out when you have a minute.
Self-Governance...and muffins!
The reporter asks, "What in the name of social utopia is in the water over at Grinnell?" My question for you guys is whether Grinnell's policy should truly be considered utopian - or do we as a society just overuse the idea of utopia to mean anything that is socially commendable?
Plato's Republic works on multiple levels and may be considered as a set of ideas for living a moderate life, as well as a metaphor for the soul and the role of justice within it. However, I had my doubts as to whether or not Plato's Republic fit the bill of a utopia. As I read the required sections, it seemed too different from my preconceived ideas of what I thought a work about a utopia should be like and at first glance, seems too distant from Sargent's definitions of what makes a work utopian. In my mind, a work about a utopia should already exist in time and space and be described by the narrator, rather than be constructed and tweaked by philosophers on the fly. Furthermore, The Republic seem to be more about the nature of justice rather than a better society, as Sargent partially defines utopia. Some more thinking about this, in the context of Plato being held up as an example of a classical effort in the direction of a utopia, is clearly in order.
I begin with Sargent's (9) definition of a utopia:
social dreaming
a non-existent society;
described in considerable detail;
normally located in time and space; and
something that the author intended a contemporaneous reader to view as considerably better than the society in which that reader lived.
With this definition in mind, I drew up this T-chart to try and decide whether or not Plato's Republic was an example of a utopia:
After reading St. Augustine’s City of God, the idea behind a Utopia is even more confusing to me than ever! There were a lot of things that I did not like about this reading starting with the fact that it was really difficult and that his idea had a lot of support, but it was so “wordy” that by the time that he had made his point, I may have missed them altogether. This reading as a whole was confusing because it was as if Augustine was calling for a heavenly utopia, but at the same time he was not implying a heavenly Utopia. I’m confused by this because to me, it seems as if he is trying to get everyone here on earth to work towards a heavenly Utopia without calling heaven a Utopia.
This is really odd and frustrating for me because he justifies why things in the human world are the way that they are using religious support as a Christian, but doesn’t want his readers to think that he is classifying heaven as a utopia but yet I feel as if that is what he believes heaven is. For me he seems to be talking in circles a little bit, or tip towing around how he really feels so to speak. His beliefs are clearly reflected in this piece but at the same time it’s like he doesn’t want his readers to know that and I think that is what makes this frustrating. In terms of what the reading means as a whole, referring to the idea that mankind needs to work towards a life that is better than the one we live in, I think that Augustine is right to want this but my thoughts on this reading as it pertains to the idea of a utopia is that because his ideas are so religion heavy, St. Augustine’s idea of a utopia will not work because not everyone believes in the reasons that he gives for why this world is not as great as it could be.
Is Augustine's Heavenly City a utopia?
Initially, I thought that it wasn't based on Lyman Tower Sargent's
definition: “[It involves] a topos—a
location in time and space” (5); however, I've given
it some thought, and it appears to fit the criteria.
First, let's look at the temporary
City of God, the one which inhabits the people who work toward peace
on earth. Does it have some sort of physical location? It is located
in the physical being of the aforementioned group of people. The
answer to this question, therefore, is “yes.” Does it exist in
some point in time? Well, this City got its start with the birth of
Christianity, which would indicate that it exists in some sort of
temporal way. The answer to this question, then, is also “yes.”
It looks like the temporary City fits the bill.
Now let's look at the eternal City of
God, which is heaven. At first, it appears as though this version of
the City disqualifies its possibility of being a utopia because it
doesn't appear to exist in time or space. A closer examination of
Christian canon, however, reveals that the final version of the City
of God does indeed exist in time and space in some sort of capacity.
For instance, the book of Revelation states that the New Heaven will
be located on the New Earth. While this description is rather vague,
it does actually situate the City at some point in space. Revelation
also describes the City as being the beginning of Eternity—at
which point time no longer matters—but
the fact that it begins could indicate that it exists at some point
in time even if time is irrelevant. It would seem, then, that
Augustine's heavenly City also fits Sargent's description.
And yet it doesn't. Sargent also
states that a utopia is a “no place,” meaning that it doesn't
exist (5). To Augustine (and the larger Christian community), both
the temporary City and the heavenly City are very real places, which
means that they exist in some capacity. In this way, they do not fit
Sargent's description and therefore are not “utopias” by
his definition. Reading Augustine's work really made me think hard
about this, and even though I thought the Heavenly City may be a
utopia by Sargent's definition, it isn't.
Lastly, I'd like to give a quick
explanation of the temporary City of God. The common belief is that
when a person accepts Christ, he or she immediately becomes a citizen
of the Kingdom of Heaven. Scripture then states that he or she is no
longer a citizen of the world, meaning that his or her worldly nature
and national heritage no longer matter. This individual is
spiritually bound to all others with the same faith, meaning that
they are united into one big City. This is where Augustine gets his
idea. Hopefully, this helps explain it a bit.
(Image of New Heaven taken from www.bloodynailsguiltyhands.wordpress.com).
There
is one particular passage of Saint Augustine’s City of God that stuck out to me. Frankly, it opened my eyes. This chapter’s
thesis – namely, that grief for a loss of some good (for example, salvation) is
itself proof of a “good nature” – I found very theologically and
philosophically profound. Even though it may or may not relate to utopianism, I
still wish to share with you my thoughts.
Have
you ever felt that you have failed? Have you ever felt that you have fallen short
of some moral force? Whether or not we failed God, our family, our friends, our
superiors, or ourselves, the same emotion is universally expressed: sorrow, distress,
disappointment. We all feel a sense of suffering, and we hate that that feeling
comes up. Wouldn’t it be better not to feel sorrow when we fail?
Augustine
says that this feeling of suffering is, in fact, a blessing: “For a sinner is
in a worse state if he rejoices in the loss of righteousness; but a sinner who
feels anguish, though he may gain no good from his anguish, is at least grieving
at the loss of salvation.” He continues on the same page, “Just as delight in
the abandonment of good, when a man sins, is evidence of a bad will, so grief
at the loss of good, when a man is punished, is evidence of a good nature”
(871).
So,
let’s say that I lost something dear to me. My family, my dog, my best friend,
my salvation – take your pick. How would you expect me to react?
Like
this:
http://ecoaffect.org
Or
like this:
http://www.theboringrunner.com
Hopefully,
the first picture is your answer. To Augustine, the fact that I am sorrowful
about my loss is proof that I am good, and that there is still peace within me.
Augustine says that my “grief arises from some remnants of that peace” (872). I
distress over my loss because I still have good within me – evil or suffering
cannot exist by itself (871).
On
the other hand, if I were to react to my loss with joy, then something is
clearly wrong with me. Some may even say that my reaction is wholly
inappropriate and, frankly, monstrous. “But I’m staying positive,” I may reply
back. And this is true, on the basic level. The actual emotion of joy and happiness
is itself positive, but that fact does not negate that I rejoice over the loss
of goodness.
This
brings me to another related point: we must recognize that we have lost
something. If I sit by idly with no recognition that I lost something, then I do
not have inner peace. Grief is a reaction that shows that my “nature is still
on friendly terms with itself” (872). If I don’t grieve, then I am not at war
with myself – which can lead, as we learned, to hating one’s neighbor and one’s
city (870; 876).
In
order to connect this post to our reading of Saint Benedict’s Rule (and because
I like sharing all things Latin), please find below the prayer Confiteor, here chanted for usage in the
Benedictine Order (hence the addition of Saint Benedict in the list of saints).
This prayer, which varied in length from century to century, was first used in
the liturgy in the eleventh century. I believe it can serve as a perfect
example of my post, With grief and sorrow, one recognizes their own fault
before God, and hence, to Augustine, shows that they still have an inner peace
of soul.
Please
note: After the prayer (1:51 mark), starts a Greek prayer (Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison (meaning, “Lord, have mercy; Christ,
have mercy”)).
Here
is an English translation of the Confiteor:
“I confess to
Almighty God, to blessed Mary ever Virgin, to blessed Michael the Archangel, to
blessed John the Baptist, to the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, to our blessed Father
Benedict, to all the Saints, and to you, brethren, that I have sinned
exceedingly in thought, word and deed: through my fault, through my fault,
through my most grievous fault. Therefore I beseech blessed Mary ever Virgin,
blessed Michael the Archangel, blessed John the Baptist, the holy Apostles
Peter and Paul, all the Saints, and you, brethren, to pray for me to the Lord
our God.”
If we’re being honest, as I was reading Augustine’s City of God, I found myself asking in
mild annoyance “Why are we reading this?” I continued to read on and the words
began to blur together in a film of love and peace and happiness. But wait,
what’s so bad about all of those things? Initially I didn’t take the time to
look closely and discover for myself how and why this would be included as a
piece of utopian work. However, after our first class discussion I began to
have a better understanding of what Augustine had in mind. Then, when I sat
down to finish the reading I felt more open and comfortable with his ideas.
With my own religious views aside, I strongly believe in
many of Augustine’s main principles that allow people entrance into the Heavenly
City. I believe that one of Augustine’s main points is the importance of “love
of God and love of neighbor” (873). This turns out to be especially positive
because it encourages us to love God, ourselves, and the people around us. Even
if you do not believe in God and thus cannot find it in your heart to love Him,
what could be negative about intentionally loving yourself and those around
you? The emphasis on love and peace in this piece is what I believe allows
Augustine to touch the believers and non-believers alike. In my opinion more
love tends to equate to happier citizens.
All of the love and mushy stuff aside, well mostly aside, I also
particularly like that Augustine points out that all types of people are
allowed into the Heavenly City. He explains that “While this Heavenly City,
therefore, is on pilgrimage in this world, she calls out citizens from all
nations and so collects a society of aliens, speaking all languages” (878).
This is where I was able to make the connection that for me summed up the whole
and purpose of this reading. As far as I interpret it, Augustine believes that
here on Earth each person’s life is his/her own private and temporary utopia.
Once we die and reach Heaven, as long as we lived our lives according to the
rules of God, we will reach the ultimate utopia. Augustine doesn’t actually use
the word utopia, but for sake of argument in this class that is what we will
call it. And in my humble opinion, leaving out all of the obvious potential
issues and gray places where things can and will likely go wrong, who doesn’t want to live a better life here on
Earth filled with love and peace and happiness just to reach an even happier
eternal life?
After watching the clip we were shown in class (Spock's famous needs for the many speech) We were asked whether we side with the needs of the many or the needs of the few.
The clip and the question made me think of another Star Trek quote.
While usually we need to think of the needs of the many we have to remember that "the many" is nothing but individuals. To ask whether we support the needs of the many or the needs of the few puts them at odds against each other. And I don't feel like this is a necessity.
The Bill of Rights in America and similar laws elsewhere guarantee individual rights. But they do so for the betterment of society as a whole. Failing to protect individuals and (especially) minorities fails society as a whole. We recognize that sometimes that the majority can be wrong and we have to have certain rules. But these rules are always what we considered to be rights. Things that can not and should not be taken away without good reason, even under pressure from the majority. By respecting individuals we protect society as a whole.
While many utopia novels, (including some that will come up in the following months, 1984 for example) Focus on the betterment of the society at the cost of the individual. This misses the point that societies are individuals though. If the entire society is "surviving" but the people are not then the society is missing the point. This is the equivalent of putting a nearly dead human on life support.
In one way yes the society is still "alive" but it is not truly alive or responding. It does not have life as we know it. And as humans we recognize that survival is not the only important thing. The idea of living, however you define it, is more important that merely surviving.
Star Trek can shows use quite a lot. It forces to think about what is right and how both the many, and the few, must be accounted for in a society.
Plato's attempt at making a beautiful
city in The Republic is very
commendable. His city has some good qualities, but most of them are
bad. For instance, he (not to be anachronistic here) has a very
Bolshevik-esque method of controlling what people learn from reading
and hearing stories. While some form of censorship is appropriate and
necessary, his seems to be a bit overkill. His can be summed up as:
There are also
prostitutes, communally shared wives, and pastries (and we know that
sugary goodness is evil), but removing some of these things might
actually make his city a good place.
I also really like
what he says about the guardians and the judges not necessarily being
happy. Happiness in a position of power may distract from the gravity
of the position. It follows, then, that governance should look less
like this
and more like this
Speaking
of the guardians, let's look at his method of raising them: “We
must keep them under observation from childhood . . . and we must
select whoever keeps on remembering it and isn't easily deceived”
(413c-413d). Am I the only one who thinks this is a little bit
creepy? It bears a striking resemblance to the kind of population
control we (will) see in (SPOILERS!)
Huxley's Brave New World.
I
also really enjoyed Plato's summary of wisdom, courage, moderation,
and justice. I was surprised to see his definition of courage as a
sort of preservation of the city and its institutions, especially
because he seems to lean toward the idea in his Laches
that courage is a form of endurance. The more I think about it,
though, the more preservation of the city's institutions seems to be
a form of endurance. He's relatively consistent to say the least.
I think my biggest
issue comes from his definition of justice as being a sort of refusal
to meddle in affairs or duties that are not one's own (434c);
furthermore, he asserts that an individual who is just is also wise,
courageous, and moderate in his indulgences (442d).
Here,
his logic is fallacious because his definition of justice doesn't
coincide with the other three qualities from which it's derived. I'm
training to be a teacher in Maryland, so let's use that as an
example. I will be obligated to report any suspected cases of a
parent abusing his or her child. That's the right thing to do, ergo
it's just, which means
the deed is justice. Obviously, reporting such an incident would be
wise (to prevent further injury) and courageous (because it's a tough
decision to make, especially if one turns out to be wrong). According
to Plato, both of these categories factor into justice, but the
action wouldn't be justice because it would be meddling, which is
unjust. Yeah, right...
(Meme taken from mybroadband.co.za. Crowdsurfing photo taken from blog.gotoohlala.com. Burden sketch taken from jonathanmetz.com).
