The Past and Future of Moralizing in Literature

Some writers criticize our superficial culture but criticize our culture with high eloquence, pomp, artistry and le mot juste. Oh, you shameless hypocrites! Am I also guilty? For the moment. Soon he who does not care for titles, the rude, careless,  barbarian–shall be exposed.

Listen and grow weary and wary of the prophets who pronounce cultural criticisms with masterful linguistic flourishes and lexical exhibitions. Their readers cannot help but be impressed by style and wonder, Why don’t these stylish critics of the superficial write more plainly, like Becket, Hemmingway or Epictetus?

I speak of our Brontes, our Wolfes, Hemmingways, Fitzgeralds, Ibsens, Tolstoys and Harpers: let’s cut to the chase all ye prophets and expositors of foibles, all you detectives of social and psychological crimes scenes–the world has heard enough stories, enough mental theatre… Let your morals be heard plainly, as commandments and direct appeals to conscience. They gain nothing from the entertainment value of plots.

What do all our morals gain from shiny veneer? Is it the sugar that coats the bitter pill of guilt? But if we judge from certain critics, the medicine is wasted and the style and artistry alone demands attention. As if the moral engine of the book did not demand a cultural revolution—at least a cold, hard look at our possible complicity in the horrors of our culture.

I have never heard of a case in which a book of fiction influenced readers to raise their moral standards for themselves as well as others. But perhaps the influence of the world’s moralizing fiction is too subtle to be noticed, even by those who experience it. Indeed, if per capita murder rates have been decreasing for centuries, why not give literary fiction some of the credit?

Imagine if Martin Luther King had spoken in monotone and without any rhetorical and poetical talent. I suppose no one would have listened, and therefore he would not have been assassinated. But why make suppositions that can never be tested?

The value of beautifying morals may never be known, but I do know that it is self-contradictory and hypocritical. The time has come for conscientious story tellers to go on strike.

The Use of History

Ah, history, you are written by the victors, and where victory is lacking, we flatter ourselves with Hebrew Bibles, some Hollywood spin on Vietnam and so on.

By far, the central function of history is egoistic and culture preserving. Histories rarely function to raise questions and learn lessons about how to forge a social, political and culture system that values comedy over tragedy, children over pride and tradition, and art over consumerism and greed… Until such transformations are made, no culture will ever avoid violence and corruption. But most historians are too meek for such grand ideals, and being mired in the language of war, history treats peace and freedom as ultimate goals. Peace, however, is not a not a goal, it is the state that follows the successful pursuit of the three (and possibly other) goals I mentioned. And freedom is a useless word unless it is married to the idea of absolute submission to sensible rules that obviously do not yet exist.

Well, but perhaps I am wrong. Who knows? At least, let us try something different and experiment a little. For, if history has any meaning at all, it is that experiments are needed to end the cycle of violence and the spread of hunger and environmental destruction.

Perhaps I wax too serious in speaking of history. Enough history has been written, and I can say, with utmost confidence, that thanks to the historians for constantly reminding us about the horrors of history we won’t have any more of that war nonsense!

And, thanks to the historians, next time Hitler flaunts his brazen face in Germany, we’re gonna tell him to sod off!

Ah, yes, but that’s just the trouble, isn’t it? History never repeats itself exactly, and people don’t recognize the billions of Hitlers and potential Hitlers walking among them. The whole art of recognizing patterns and similarities remains undeveloped, and the understanding that small domestic injustices are worth as much attention as the same injustices committed on the political or “historical” scale—this knowledge hardly exists, and Timothy Findley’s The Wars is one of the few books I know that hints at it.

The historian must reveal the universals in the particulars of history, but even then, without a scientifically grounded vision of how to attain a better future and how we can improve ourselves, history can only teach us to avoid history.

In the end, the past must be forgotten, for whatever enemies we faced in the past, one universal, immortal enemy awaits us, an enemy who we can only conquer by befriending, and if we fail at that we will never be rid of mortal enemies and irrational fears.

In the end, the past must be forgotten, for whatever mistakes we committed in the past, tomorrow we can commit better ones, funnier ones. Or will tragedy never be turned into comedy?

Kafka

What if Kafka was right, what if Max Brod should have heeded the following deathbed request:

“Dearest Max, my last request: Everything I leave behind me … in the way of diaries, manuscripts, letters (my own and others’), sketches, and so on, [is] to be burned unread.”

Let us not assume, rather selfishly, that Kafka was kidding or was not himself, let us attempt to defend and therefore respect his wish.

Why burn his work unread?

First Reason: In no way was Franz’s writing intended to be public. It is a deeply personal and private writing, almost an extension of his diary and letter writing. Reading it to the public often made him laugh—not because the content was funny but because reading it to the public seemed so inappropriate.

Second Reason: His writing communicates one man’s perception of the absurdity and meaninglessness of life in Germany, possibly of life in general. Much of his work reflects his personal, professional experience of the onerous, impersonal and labyrinthine German bureaucratic and legal system. While his writing may testify to one man’s ability to keep his imagination alive, it is hardly a celebration of the imagination, nor does it provide useful insights into human behaviour, and—finally—since it is neither hope or happiness inspiring perhaps we can agree that it is not particularly recommendable to the public.

Third Reason: For Franz, writing was as much a torment as a pleasure. Bouts of creativity kept him up late at night, alienated him from his wife, weakened his already delicate constitution and was no help in his struggle with tuberculosis. Why would he wish it on others?

Fourth Reason: His major works were left unfinished on account of the demands of his professional life, domestic duties and his poor health. Possibly, he felt that even his finished works were not truly finished works, that is, perhaps he sensed that they did not fulfill his authorial potential.

In light of these reasons to respect Franz’s wish, how do we respond to Harold Bloom, who not only ignores Franz’s wish (as I have done) but heaps further disrespect on him by claiming the following, “Despite all his denials and beautiful evasions, [Kafka's writing] quite simply is Jewish writing”? Bloom’s statement is both bold and reductive. No one can deny the influence of Judaism on Franz, but to say his work is “simply” Jewish might underestimate the influence of the man’s German education and his professional work as a German bureaucrat and lawyer. The absence of metaphor, attention to mundane details and the nameless characters and placeless places in Franz’s works hardly attest to a Judaic influence; these qualities echo the impersonal world of bureaucracy. Indeed, since I have worked with government bureaucrats—the influence is simply unmistakable.

In conclusion, disregarding Franz’s wish to belong to no one seems both perverse and flattering. That said, the time may yet come when we will honour his brave self-assessment and respect his noble wish.

The Golden Fool

The neatest bit of moral insipidity ever conceived is probably the Golden Rule: “Treat others as you want them to treat you.”

First Problem: The Golden Rule is circular. It essentially means that kindness will prevail if people are kind to one another.

Second Problem: Does the Golden Rule help to improve the world by suggesting that other people have the same feelings we do? Experience has taught me that people do not have the same feelings in either intensity or origin as I do, and that the Golden Rule’s appeal to pity is quite useless with people who possess power to harm.

Third Problem: The Golden Rule assumes that all men and women know what they should do to keep their conscience clean; in other words, it assumes that everyone has a receptive, enlightened and sensitive conscience, possibly one that forbids doing anything unpleasant to anyone, criminals and naughty children included. The trouble is that plenty of ignorant people fulfill the Golden Rule while entirely mis-educating their children. In contrast, responsible teachers and parents know that some unpleasant ideas must be communicated to children and they know how to do this without doing undue harm. Unfortunately, few people understand anything about this; the problem is that despite their systemic neglect of their parental duty they fulfill the Golden Rule.

Why must unpleasant ideas be communicated to children? So that they can grow comfortable with reality, which is not entirely pleasant, although the quality of reality is also a reflection of our own education. The unpleasant aspects are like gravity, without which we would float away and with too much of it we would be crushed.

“That which is hateful to you do not do to another … the rest (of the Torah) is all commentary, now go study,” said Rabbi Hillel, for he loved to study, but many hate to study, therefore why do you require it of them, you hypocrite! —You joker!

“So whatever you wish that men would do to you, do so to them; for this is the Law and the prophets.” (Matthew 7:12 RSV) Oh, this is too good to resist: Didn’t Jesus accept his crucifixion as a good and necessary action? If so, then he must have wished for it, and then he should do it to us. Funny, right? And yet, I’m quite serious. A good atheist poet will know how to redeem the crucifixion as a symbol of a universal necessity.

James Joyce

Why read Ulysses or Finnegan’s Wake? As a fan of both books, as someone who still finds some amusement and insights in Joyce’s works, perhaps I will seem to contradict myself by issuing a condemnation of Finnegan’s Wake. But seriously, James condemned himself by stating the following about FW:

“I’ve put in so many enigmas and puzzles that it will keep the professors busy for centuries arguing over what I meant, and that’s the only way of insuring one’s immortality.”

At worst, these are the words of an egomaniac and a sadist bent on tormenting a class of professionals he largely dismissed; at best, these are the words of a most subtly sarcastic comedian. He wants them to “argue” – you understand, to argue and not to achieve epiphanies and moments of cerebral-aesthetical bliss! Think of the cunning and malevolence… and yet, think of the gall or absurdity of openly stating his evil design…

Ha-ha-ha.

Oh, wait, this isn’t funny at all, is it?

“The demand that I make of my reader is that he should devote his whole Life to reading my works.”

What? You egomaniacal monster! My whole life? Well, actually I don’t mind devoting my whole life, or at least my waking hours, or at least those hours—or minutes—when I’m not otherwise employed, but I would only do so if your books gave me happiness and good precepts by which to live, and I fear you never intended to provide either, so there!

Ultimately, reading James’ works is an exorbitant exercise suited only for book workers, i.e. polyglot and lexically overdeveloped academics—and yet, not even for them!

What the world needs is sustainable literature—literature the whole world can learn to enjoy with relative ease and without a crippling investment in post-secondary education. Or what, shall happiness and wisdom belong exclusively to the wealthy? Ah, no, what they call education is an industry and largely a colossal waste of time.