God, King, and Country: British identity and the Australian Defence Force

Gunnedah soldiers, World War I. My great-grandfather, Ernest Percy, front row second from left.

This article appeared in The Spectator Australia on the King's Birthday, 8 June 2026. Terry Barnes wrote in the Morning Double Shot newsletter:

I was much taken with former Army officer Michael de Percy’s from-the-heart comment piece for King’s Birthday. He was sharing the importance of our British heritage and traditions for the Australian Defence Force, and the relationship our serving members have with the Crown. Our British heritage matters: that’s why King’s Birthday remains important: to remind us of where this country came from, and the legacy we carry from those origins. We have to be interoperable with Yank forces, but it doesn’t mean we sacrifice our own inherited military traditions and culture. Heavens, they can’t even salute properly.

The article was adapted from a speech I delivered at the Robert Menzies Institue's 2025 Annual Conference, 'Menzies and the British Commonwealth of Nations'. A recording of the speech is available below.

God, King, and Country is an interesting concept. As a political scientist, my method tends to be what is known as historical institutionalism. What I look at are legacies and how they inform policy choices in the present, but also continuity, disruption, and often serendipity.

In terms of serendipity, it’s interesting that Lord Kitchener was invited to Australia by Alfred Deakin to report on the Australian land defence force, the Australian Army. At the time there was controversy that it should have been Lord Fisher looking at the Navy, which made more strategic sense. But Kitchener arrived in 1909 and stayed until 1910. He travelled throughout Australia – Seymour, Darwin, Townsville, and elsewhere – and arrived to great fanfare. The country people loved the fact that this war hero, the Kitchener of Khartoum, was visiting Australia. Kitchener, of course, became the face of the first world war recruitment campaign.

It was interesting that Uncle Sam is a fictitious character, whereas Kitchener was the real, living hero. He was often criticised for sending many young men from British country towns to their deaths. Anyway, the long story short. Kitchener advised the formation of the Royal Military College, Duntroon. Duntroon was established along the lines of Sandhurst in the UK. It was quite natural that British identity would form part of the early institutions of the Australian Army and the military more generally.

Kitchener said Australians were soldiers naturally.

I probably won’t come up with any fantastic theoretical contributions today, but one thing strikes me personally. I am one of four generations of my family who have served in the Australian Army – my great-grandfather, my grandfather, myself, and my son. The Australian Army has been part of our family history for a very long time, and it feels entirely natural. As a teenager I had the Union Jack and the Australian flag hanging in my bedroom, and I took them with me to Duntroon in 1992 and 1993. I don’t know why I did that. It’s just what I did. There is something very natural about that British identity in the Australian Defence Force.

When it comes to God, my first experience in the military was the laying up of the colours for the 51st Battalion, the Far North Queensland Regiment. In a church. It was a church parade. I’ll never forget at Duntroon the trooping of the colours on the Queen’s Birthday and the call, ‘Three cheers for Her Most Gracious Majesty. Hip, hip-hip, huzzah!’ I tell you what – if you’re not a monarchist after shouting ‘huzzah’, what’s wrong with you?

Then there is country. My first unit, the 51st Battalion, carried the sentiment Ducit Amor Patriae – excuse my Latin, but it essentially means love of country leads me. God, King, and Country are embedded in the symbolism, the practices, and the institutions of the Australian Defence Force.

This is very personal for me. What I’ll be arguing is that Menzies is part of that continuity. I dare say that without Queen Elizabeth II reigning for so long, we would not have had the same degree of continuity. I don’t know that King Charles would have carried the same appeal had he been the monarch we relied upon as the representative of the Crown for Australia. There was deep affection for Queen Elizabeth II, shared by Sir Robert Menzies – famously ‘British to the bootstraps’ – and reflected in the well-known story of the Queen walking past him in Old Parliament House. A lot of that feels natural, almost serendipitous.

The enduring importance of God, King, and Country in the ADF lies in the sense of purpose that most others do not have. When you are commissioned as an officer, you receive your commission from the Queen – in my case – which says you are to follow the orders given to you. If that means sending your soldiers to their deaths, and possibly yourself, then that is your job. That is a very powerful thing, and it is shared by warrant officers and other ranks as well.

Menzies played an important role in perpetuating that ideal. The modern expression of it really begins with the Korean War, which I’ll come to shortly. But let me start at the end.

Under the Morrison government – and reaffirmed in recent years—the Australian Defence Veterans’ Covenant was introduced. My generation of soldiers was very disillusioned with the RSL and the Department of Veterans’ Affairs. Only in recent years have many of us started coming back to the fold. I think we reached an age where we realised how important it was and wanted it back in our lives.

I wasn’t even aware the Covenant existed until my hearing began to fail. As an artillery officer I discovered I was already pre-registered for hearing aids, which was welcome. Suddenly I needed an RSL advocate, so I dug out my old 1999 badge and rejoined. The Covenant introduced something of an American-style ‘thank you for your service’. The oath states, ‘For what they have done, this we will do.’ One of the most significant aspects is that all mental health treatment is now covered for every soldier, sailor, and airman who has served.

Things have changed significantly, as they did after the first world war and again after the Second. Yet the Covenant sits quite comfortably alongside British military customs. Clement Attlee’s idea of the New Jerusalem was similar in spirit – the general ideal of looking after veterans – though perhaps with more of a socialist bent than Sir Robert would have liked.

In the regular army I served with the Royal Regiment of Australian Artillery. The title ‘Royal’ was granted by Queen Elizabeth II to the Australian Artillery in 1962, during Menzies’ time and during her reign. I’ll never forget, as a young subaltern, being told that the newest member of the regiment had to say grace at a dining-in night. These were formal occasions where you were not permitted to leave the table until the loyal toast had been drunk – quite excruciating in the ’90s, I can only imagine what they were like earlier.

The grace was simple, ‘For what we are about to receive, thank God.’ When I was first told to say it, it took me straight back to Duntroon, where I once asked the regimental drill sergeant major for advice on a parade and received a classic ‘bum steer’, resulting in two weeks of extra drills. It was that sort of culture – rather like an apprentice being sent to find a couple of skyhooks. But the grace was correct and very straightforward.

Back then the loyal toast for the Royal Regiment of Australian Artillery was, ‘The Queen, our Captain General.’ King Charles is now the Captain General. These are direct, frequent affirmations of the Crown and the Christian tradition. That tradition continues in the RSL. The League has its roots in the first world war. Like the Gallipoli Memorial Club in Sydney, which still exists, early RSL branches sometimes tried to restrict membership to those who had served at Gallipoli, but that could not last. The RSL adapted, as institutions must. Even today, RSL meetings usually display both the Union Jack and the Australian flag, and we always recite the Ode. It is almost archaic, yet very moving.

I mentioned the Korean War. My grandfather, whom I knew well, served in the second world war and then with the 67th Battalion in the British Commonwealth Occupation Force in Japan, including Hiroshima. Australia’s participation in the BCOF was entirely natural. The 67th Battalion became the 3rd Battalion, Royal Australian Regiment. The ‘Royal’ prefix was important. We began serving alongside Americans as the Royal Australian Regiment during the Korean War. The 67th Battalion was formed from volunteers from the 3rd, 6th, and 11th Divisions to deploy as part of the BCOF.

Anyone who has served with an infantry battalion, or as a forward observer in artillery – as I did with Bravo Company, 6 RAR in Brisbane – knows how strongly those soldiers feel part of the Royal Australian Regiment. They are extremely proud of it. The Royal Australian Navy and Royal Australian Air Force have their own proud traditions. What we see overall is the continuation of the British Army regimental system in Australia.

In my day we were still called SO3 – Staff Officer Grade Three, a captain’s rank – followed by our functional title (Operations, Fire Support, or whatever it was). Those titles have since moved toward American usage for interoperability, though the British have done something similar. Honours and awards are still approved by the Sovereign, and the Crown remains the symbolic legal source of military authority in Australia.

The RSL was long focused on the idea of imperial service, and that emphasis continued through the inter-war and post-war periods. After he retired, my grandfather lived in an RSL home called War Haven in Cairns – an entire village of veterans. You can imagine the shenanigans. But there was also a profound sense of loyalty, belonging, and camaraderie.

Service in the two world wars was largely seen as service to the Empire. Even when Curtin brought the 7th Division home, it showed a necessary turn toward the Americans. That did not erase the deep Britishness inculcated in the Australian Defence Force. Returned soldiers received enhanced social status. Old property maps of Australia still show the impact of soldier settlement schemes, especially in country towns. Military service was a badge of superior citizenship, rooted in the ideal of British imperial loyalty.

Menzies described himself as ‘British to the bootstraps’. It has become almost a cliché, yet he genuinely sought to preserve a cultural, even puritan, inflection of British character in Australia. It is unfair when the left admonishes him for this, because he also had warm connections with the United States and lectured there. Through his demeanour, however, he reinvigorated monarchist and imperial sentiment in the 1950s and ’60s. The granting of royal titles to our military units, many of which remain unchanged, created a favourable climate for the RSL’s British-oriented veterans’ culture – one that still exists today.

The Royal Australian Regiment grew out of the British Commonwealth Occupation Force. This was not all Menzies’ doing. It occurred under the Chifley government. In earlier work I have written about communications and about Menzies and nuclear policy. He was not always the instigator, but he was a powerful perpetuator of these ideas. The Royal Australian Regiment became Australia’s first permanent infantry regiment, modelled on British lines.

Kitchener had recommended a form of compulsory military training, which existed from 1911 until around 1922. Menzies later reintroduced national service. During these foundational periods, a great many able-bodied young Australian men experienced that tradition. The inculcation of British military history and culture through the Australian military has been perpetuated though such schemes.

If you come to Gunning, my village in the Southern Tablelands of New South Wales – population roughly a thousand – we routinely see more than three hundred people at the Anzac Day service. Particularly in regional Australia, the culture and sense of identity remain strong.

The Royal Australian Regiment’s motto, worn on the hat badge, is ‘Duty First’. If you were not doing your job, your mates would soon remind you to ‘read your hat badge’. These symbols are constantly reinforced. They are not mere decoration. They function as living institutions. That is something you do not find in the same way elsewhere.

In the Commonwealth context, Australia retained the Crown while republics were admitted to the Commonwealth of Nations. The ADF continued to operate within the broader Commonwealth military culture – ABCA (American, British, Canadian, and Australian), later expanded with New Zealand – through regimental exchanges and close cooperation.

At Duntroon, my guidance officer was a British infantry officer of the Northumberland Fusiliers. My surname traces to Northumberland. Our artillery regimental officers’ basic course was run by a regimental sergeant major from the Royal Horse Artillery. These exchanges between Australia and the British military continue and remain important. The integration is remarkably seamless. The main cultural difference is that Australians tend to bag each other more than the Brits or Kiwis do, but apart from minor drill variations, it feels entirely natural to serve together.

British identity in the defence force stands in contrast to civilian Australia, where it is now largely symbolic and declining. We still see coats of arms on regional courthouses and prisons, but they are not lived traditions. In the ADF these traditions are institutional, daily, and operational. In many ways the Australian Defence Force is the last redoubt of God, King, and Country.

The difference persists because tradition and esprit de corps require continuity. You cannot simply recreate a history. Anyone who has marched in column to a pipes and drums band, or to a military band playing the same tunes the British marched to in the Seven Years’ War in the 1750s, knows the adrenaline that rises. These are tried and tested ways of motivating troops, and the same music continues today. The regimental system is inherently conservative precisely because tradition matters.

Interoperability with the UK and Commonwealth partners now extends to the Americans as well. There is also a constitutional reality. The King, symbolically and constitutionally, through the Governor-General, remains Commander-in-Chief of the Australian Defence Force. Veterans’ organisations continue to reinforce that Britishness.

To conclude, the ADF remains one of the most British institutions in contemporary Australia. Loyalty to King and Country – and implicitly to God – is not a mere ceremony but a living tradition.

I’ll never forget an early lecture at Duntroon on comparative religion. The lecturer asked, ‘Hands up – who doesn’t believe in God?’ A few hands went up. He said, ‘When we were caught in an ambush by the Japanese in New Guinea, everybody prayed’. Implicitly, God is part of that process. As the Americans say, there are no atheists in foxholes.

This identity was consciously preserved through the Menzies era and continues to shape the profession of arms in Australia. Menzies was a big supporter of the RSL. In the military, more than anywhere else in Australian society, this British identity endures.

Just to finish, the black-and-white photographs across the top of montage below shows my great-grandfather – before he went overseas, during his preparation, and then in the second world war, because he went back for another six years. You can see the impact. Featured are my grandfather, myself, and my son. It is very difficult to separate the personal from this idea of British identity, because to me it is simply natural.

The Percy Warriors

Our Anglican tradition, and a bit with a possum

St George's Anglican Church in Lisbon

As I prepared to write this article, I went to pour a glass of wine. When I returned to my study, my television had turned itself on. In a black and white movie, the actor was playing a violin, surrounded by children singing, Hark! The Herald Angels Sing. I immediately retold the story to my local padre, an Anglican priest and army chaplain who leads our RSL services. He remarked that it was clearly a sign that I must not be a doubter and that I must tell my story truly and well.

My latest in The Spectator Australia, Our Anglican tradition, and a bit with a possum.

Our Anglican tradition, and a bit with a possum | @FlaneurPolitiq

Identity politics has infiltrated the Anglican tradition. The meaning of the stained-glass window depicting Sir Galahad is disappearing along with veterans.

Christians are disappearing.https://t.co/4nAaELoiyA

— The Spectator Australia (@SpectatorOz) January 6, 2025

Learning About Buddhism from Dr Sax: Jack Kerouac's Surprisingly Erudite Biography of the Buddha

 

Jack Kerouac. Photo by Tom Palumbo [CC BY-SA 2.0].

Wake Up by Jack Kerouac
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I began reading this book back in 2016 but it was out of my depth back then and is only now something I can appreciate after much reading and research. Jack Kerouac has been a bit hit-and-miss for me. I loved On the Road and I didn't like Doctor Sax so much. But this biography of Gotama Buddha was as surprising for me as it was for Robert Thurman who penned the introduction to this Penguin Modern Classic.

I didn't know what to expect and although I had it bookmarked well into the main text, it had been so long I had forgotten everything I'd read so I had to start over. I find it interesting that some books, Like Tolstoy's War and Peace, I can pick up at any time and continue on as if I hadn't put it down so long ago. (Of course, one can do this for years it is so bloody long!) But this one I had completely forgotten so I began it all over again.

I was surprised by the style of the introduction by Thurman. It is very thorough, but he also doesn't hold back on his sense of surprise and wonder at Kerouac's expertise. I, too, am in awe. (Especially after reading Doctor Sax, one of Kerouac's less than appealing attempts at stream of consciousness writing!)

I have read some works that cover the basics, such as the Dalai Lama's How to Practise, Herman Hesse's Siddhartha (yes I know it is a fictional history of one of Gotama's contemporaries), and also to some extent Osho's Empty Boat, but I did not expect to receive so much "direct knowledge" from Kerouac!

I was introduced to Taoism and Buddhism by a friend in Shanghai in early 2019. I was fascinated by the similarities with Stoicism but also with Confucius' teachings. After commencing the Shiva Sutras and Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, I have also had some discussions with a colleague about Hinduism. He refers to Buddhism as "the daughter of Hinduism". This is an appropriate description, as I am learning while reading Karen Armstrong's Buddha right now. 

What I find most interesting is the concept of "perception" which appears equally important in Stoicism. The bottom line is that our ability to perceive is based on our senses which are subjective and we perceive objects according to our pre-programming. Transcending this knowledge requires other types of knowledge if we are to be at peace with oneself.

While I am still grappling with many of these ideas, I found the following helpful from Kerouac (2008, p. 88):

Perception is our Essential Mind; the sun's brightness or the dim moon's darkness are the conditional ripples on its surface... the phenomena that the sense-organs perceive does not originate in our Essential Mind but in the senses themselves.

The senses are changeable in that we can see space or a wall, lightness or darkness. But our Essential Mind is "neither changeable nor fixed" (p. 90). And from p. 91: 

Do not be disturbed by what has been taught, but ponder upon it seriously and never give yourself up either to sadness or delight.

I am grappling with the idea of perceptions from the senses in that this empirical knowledge is an illusion, like ripples on the sea, but our Essential Mind is pure. Or (p. 92):

...it is the eyes, not the intrinsic perception of Mind, that is subject to false mistakes.

So what is this Essential Mind? It is not any one perception of our individual senses, but some kind of whole:

There is neither Truth nor Non-Truth, there is only the essence. And when we intuit the essence of all, we call it Essential Mind.

I have many more notes on this work, but it has enlightened me to much of Buddhism that I did not know. In particular, the sense of individualism was surprising (p. 137):

...prepare quietly a quiet place, be not moved by others' way of thinking, do not compromise to agree with the ignorance of others, go thou alone, make solitude thy paradise...

And to echo James Allen's idea of conquering oneself, Kerouac writes of the Buddha:

As I am a conqueror amid conquerors, so he who conquers 'self' is one with me.

If I am learning anything from my philosophical and theological studies over the last three decades, it is that I am increasingly a Transcendentalist in the fashion of Ralph Waldo Emerson and his "Self-Reliance", and also his idea of finding one's "nature". 

But all of the philosophies and religions I am familiar with have, outside of the theological questions they address and the answers they provide, a requirement for self-knowledge. Kerouac's biography of Gotama Buddha demonstrates just how difficult that can be. 

If only we could "Wake Up".

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Are you a scholar or a subject matter expert? Some thoughts...

Lord Shiva Statue in Murdeshwara (Photo by Vivek Urs / CC BY-SA).

Recently I've been struggling with academic seminars where people are subject matter experts in health or refugees or some other specific topic. Not that there's anything wrong with this, but it struck me how little scholarly content there is now in "academic" presentations.

I have always had an interest in the use of the general versus the particular and how scholars often use these approaches interchangeably to suit their purposes. I am fascinated by such rhetorical tactics but I must admit that I have not seen much of this sort of debate in academic circles for some time. Is it a case of the short-termism that has arisen in academia?

Reading the Siva and Yoga Sutras had me thinking back to the concept of "varieties of particularism" that I developed in my doctoral thesis. Strange as it may sound, the idea came to me in a dream. To explain the concept (and to remind myself), I quote at length from my thesis (de Percy 2012, p. 28, Box 1.3):

A major finding of this research is that, in an era of technological convergence, providing a single technological solution to solve various connectivity problems is slower in addressing the diverse connectivity-related issues associated with various communications technologies in the near term. Similarly, grand, long-term approaches overlook regional and local opportunities and, in the pursuit of standardisation or quality/equality of service, ‘lock-in’ users to a technological solution designed to solve yesterday’s communications problems. Over time, the process of central control prevents the development of community expertise, or cultural capacity (see Hughes 1993), which leaves citizens as passive recipients of communications services, rather than being an integral component of these systems.

In his study of electricity systems in Germany, the US and the UK, Hughes (1993 : 405) found that local conditions resulted in distinct technological styles, defined as ‘the technological characteristics that give a machine, process, device or system a distinctive quality’. Hughes defined the local conditions external to the technology as cultural factors: ‘geographical, economic, organizational, legislative, contingent historical, and entrepreneurial conditions... factors [that] only partially shape technology through the mediating agency of individuals and groups’. However, electricity systems are passive networks where users have limited choices about how the network is deployed or used, whereas modern communications systems provide suppliers and end-users with a variety of choices about the means of delivery and the use of such networks respectively. For the purposes of this thesis, the various ‘cultural factors’ (as defined by Hughes) and the various connectivity requirements of users present particular circumstances which must be taken into account to enable greater penetration of a particular technological function.

In the absence of a term to describe the connectivity problems dictated by the varieties of particular individual, organisational, geographic, demographic and infrastructure situations that policy makers may need to address (while attempting to predict the current and potential uses of communications technologies in such various conditions), the term ‘varieties of particularism’ is adopted here to encapsulate these diverse circumstances. The term is borrowed from moral philosophy where it is used to explain a form of morality where particular circumstances dictate particular approaches to morality, on a case-by-case basis, as opposed to a single moral principle that dictates all action (see Sinnott-Armstrong 1999).

During the present period of institutional disruption (created by technological convergence), attempts to address these varieties of particularism have been referred to elsewhere as technological neutrality, where the technology used to achieve a particular function is left to supplier or consumer choice, rather than being predetermined or directed by the state. In Australia, however, the policy preference for delivering communications technologies over time has been to offer centrally-controlled, limited technologies in an attempt to create a sense of universal, standardised service. Canada, on the other hand, has attempted to achieve universal service through a mix of technologies devised and deployed at the regional and local levels to work within the regional and local varieties of particularism. Further, Canada’s approach provides greater access for citizens to the political process at the provincial and local levels, whereas state and local politicians in Australia have limited ability to influence centrally-controlled communications technology systems. This leaves citizens waiting until the federal government enables the deployment of infrastructure, as is occurring with the NBN today. 

Hughes (1993: x) found that the policy issues in deploying electricity networks were more regional than national in three different national contexts. The present study finds that the same principle applies to communications networks. Therefore, a major explanation for the divergent communications technology outcomes in Canada and Australia, and indeed, for Canada’s faster speed in achieving greater penetration of new technologies over time, is that decentralised institutions are better able to address the regional and local varieties of particularism, hence providing greater citizen involvement in the policy process and faster penetration of new communications technologies.

The above was a major finding, but it was readily dismissed by subject matter experts at the time who continue to provide political explanations for shortcomings of the NBN. Technical experts using politics as an excuse. Where is the scholarly thought in such explanations?

Consider scientific reasoning in the utility of the universal versus the particular (or in this case, local) from Shapin (1998, p. 5):

...post-Popper philosophers were willing to acknowledge that the production of scientific ideas was thoroughly bound up with the psychologically idiosyncratic and the culturally variable, they nevertheless insisted that the context of justification - the transformation of idea into knowledge - was a matter of context-free reason and logic.

Context-free reason and logic. And here is the first issue with being a subject matter expert rather than a scholar. See how I did that? Above I argued that the particular was more important than the universal in communications technologies, but now I am going to argue that the universal is more important than the particular. Let me explain.

This is rather abstract but there's something in the argument by Stilpo of the Megarian School about the universal being separate from the individual and concrete and the Siva Sutra 1.16 about the Great Point and the One Reality which is our consciousness and universal. There's also something from James Allen (2007, p. 24) about our environment being our mirror, whereas Sutra 1.16 admits that environment can help or hinder the process of union with the divine (see Worthington 2016, pp. 27-28).

In my "varieties of particularism" explanation above, I used the techniques of scientific method in a quasi-experimental, most similar systems design comparison of Australia and Canada holding communications technology outcomes as the dependent variable with institutions as the independent variable. I also adopted a consistent method of process tracing to compare the two countries over time. I used context-free reason and logic to arrive at a conclusion. I did not have a preconceived conclusion, although I did have a hypothesis that I tested using the above approach.

Now consider the subject matter expert. All of my work is poppycock and if only the Coalition had kept the original NBN model introduced by Labor then all would be well.

Subject matter experts have their place and some subject matter experts have their place in the academy. But I am increasingly concerned that we are all being forced to become subject matter experts who can provide a simple answer to a complex problem for people who are not subject matter experts.

My point is that the bureaucratic pressures of the contemporary academy are influencing our thinking, and it is hard to resist. The three-minute thesis competition is the antithesis of scholarly behaviour. Three minutes? Please! In an era of complexity, such parsimony, or "Occam's Razor", if you will, is tantamount to the stupidity that we are seeing played out in daily global politics.

There are parts of me that want to excel and other parts that want to rebel against the system. But what am I bucking against? I keep thinking there is no temporal aspect, the past has been forgotten, the classics are but facsimiles of misinterpretations, and that scholars are pretending to be journalists. So what is it to be a scholar?

When I went searching for the "scholarly tradition", all I could find were references to Confucianism. Interestingly, the Scholarly Tradition is what Confucianism ought to be known as, but the European neologism has stuck!

I then turned to the Enlightenment Tradition, and I was surprised to find I have been fooled by the myth of the "hidden hand" (Anchor 1979, p. xii):

This myth assumed that there was a basic harmony of interests among men in the long run, and it was only necessary to release everyone to pursue freely his own self-interest in order to realize a harmonious social order, similar to that which reigned in nature... that unity resulted "naturally" from diversity...

As I tend to do, I favour Rousseau's approach (Anchor 1979, p. xvii): 

...if a man wanted a better life than he had, he could not depend upon some transhistorical agency to provide it for him; he would have to create it himself, in pain and suffering, and on behalf of a morality that honored the inner man as well as the outer.

Here I find myself getting closer to my issue with the bureaucracy. How do I honour my inner self? Is it even relevant if as a political scientist I ought to be using "context-free reason and logic" in my work?

I turn now to Emerson and the Transcendentalists:

They were critics of their contemporary society for its unthinking conformity, and urged that each person find, in Emerson’s words, “an original relation to the universe”... The transcendentalists operated from the start with the sense that the society around them was seriously deficient...

This is what I see. In architecture, the gig economy, in medium to high density living, in food production, in having to physically be at work to ensure one's mental health. I see unthinking conformity and unoriginality. 

I went on one of my most comprehensive journeys of self-discovery recently and found three things I value most: love, freedom, and learning (Dilectio Libertas et Doctrina). I think I can honour my inner self using these values as a guide.

But I can also use reason and logic to change, either myself or my perception. If success is being promoted in the current academy, then I will have to stop honouring my inner self. If I want to honour my inner self, then my perception of success must change. I have the freedom to choose!

If I were to be a subject matter expert in, for example, transport and telecommunication policy, then I would not need to travel on this journey of self-discovery. Instead, I choose to use reason and logic to dispel the myth of the "hidden hand" as a justification for the way I choose to work. I can also choose to work in accordance with my own sense of purpose.

Would a subject matter expert need to think through all that? Could a subject matter expert, using their knowledge of a particular subject, encourage transformative experiences in their students? Could they guide a student in honouring their inner self? Or would it be in accordance with their expert opinion?

I would rather be a scholar.

References

Allen, J. (2007/1920). As A Man Thinketh. Mineola, NY: Dover.

Anchor, R. (1979). The Enlightenment Tradition. Berkeley: University of California Press.

De Percy, M.A. (2012). Connecting the Nation: An historical institutionalist explanation for divergent communications technology outcomes in Canada and Australia. Doctoral Thesis, The Australian National University, Canberra. DOI: 10.25911/5d514f57acdb6.

Shapin, S. (1998). Placing the View from Nowhere: Historical and Sociological Problems in the Location of Science. Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers. Vol. 23, No. 1, pp. 5-12.

Worthington, R. (2016). A Study of the Siva Sutras: Finding the Hidden Self. Allahabad: Himalayan Institute India.

Perception in Stoicism, Buddhism, and New Thought: Creating an inner life through imagination

Drinking tea and reading books and enjoying the life of the mind. Photo by Dr Michael de Percy.

Mastering Your Inner World Neville Goddard Explained: Manifesting with Ease by Rita Faith
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

There will be no more academic snobbishness from here on in. Reading this book, it hit me like a thunderbolt, bringing back a bunch of lessons from earlier readings and confirming so many life experiences. I've noticed the difference already with some simple techniques that make life so much better. Is it the book, the techniques, the confirmation of naturally acquired skills? I don't know. But here is my attempt to explain.

I am at the Royal Military College, Duntroon, in early 1993. The ropes test. 6 metres up and down then up and down again in patrol order (rifle and webbing). Not my greatest strength and I am on "sluggers" or remedial physical training until I pass. I am talking with a colleague about it, that last "bite" on the rope that we struggle to make. We decide that we should just do it. Take that last bite. The body won't let us down. Wrong. And the blisters are worse than the thump on the ground from 6 metres up. No shame though, I gutted it out.

That  night, I dream about the ropes. While everyone else is eating dinner tomorrow night, I (along with the other sluggers), will get another crack at the tests we haven't passed. All night I toss and turn and I am up the rope and then down and then up again and then down and it all flows. The dream repeats, repeats, repeats, repeats... zzzzzz.

The next day I pass and I never fail the ropes test again. It was a purely mental issue from an earlier experience with the rope obstacle on an obstacle course and an arsehole I have since cursed and forgiven and now whatever. I was just a boy. A feeling of cowardice and not good enough and immorality in that sense of the bayonet as a moral weapon and I was immoral. So much conservative crap that did more for that arsehole's ego than my motivation. Life experiences have proven the opposite and I have learnt to be much kinder to myself.

Recent experiences with Eye Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing (EMDR) have revealed a bunch of parts of me that I wasn't aware of. I have learnt to recognise the various parts of me, the good, the bad, the evil, the off with the daisies naive kid, the arsehole dirty fighter, the whole shebang. They are all part of me and they won't go away. But my imagination has been fired up to see the Council of Me, the various parts that run riot if the conscious me doesn't acknowledge them and keep them under control.

It all sounds hokey. I felt this recently when I decided that I needed to find my inner compass. I found the website Wanderlust and an exercise by Melissa Colleret to do just that. It felt hokey, but I came up with three of my core values that echo past exercises I have done. Love, Freedom, and Learning: Dilectio Libertas et Doctrina.

I realised that I have been manifesting my entire life. Be an army officer; be a theologian; be a politician (oh no, not for me! Well saved!); be a political scientist; live the life of the mind; live in the country but work in Canberra (my favourite city in Australia); live in a federation house (and other things too personal to mention). I remember after graduating from Duntroon how it struck me: Now what? It makes me think of a quote attributed to the actor, Lily Tomlin:

I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realise I should have been more specific.

I've been trying to practice Stoicism for the last four years, and along with every other endeavour of my idealism, I have trashed my ideals. My enthusiasm for Stoicism has not been able to overcome its shortcomings. Are we really to resign ourselves to our circumstances? Imagine if I'd done that when I was stuck in a job that was so bad, I contemplated the main problem concerning philosophy, a la Albert Camus.

Often, when teaching leadership classes, I get to re-live my shortcomings. For example, James Clawson's work separates the "what do I want to be" from the "how do I want to feel" (the Internal Life's Dream - LDint - versus the External Life's Dream - LDext - otherwise known as "Resonance").

I have found my calling and I am living in accordance with my inner compass (even when I felt I wasn't).  Nothing hokey about any of that.

But the Stoics don't feel too much. And, like Buddhists, they focus on managing their perceptions or impressions. And here is the common ground I have found with Goddard's ideas:

Imagination is God and God is imagination.

And finally I arrive at Rita Faith's book. It isn't hokey. Neville Goddard was an inspiration to Wayne Dyer. So you don't like Hay House? Well Dyer's PhD supervisor was Abraham Maslow. You know, the first theory you learnt at uni and the theory you tried to fit into all your first year essays because it was the only one that made sense? Yeah, him.

As I finished reading Faith's work on Goddard, I was half way through Jack Kerouac's Wake Up, a biography of the Buddha. I've been thinking a lot about Herman Hesse's Siddhartha. (I am still trying to work out whether Hesse was writing about Buddha or a parallel to Buddha. I suppose it doesn't matter.)

The Britannica entry on Herman Hesse's Siddhartha reads as follows:

Despairing of finding fulfillment, he goes to the river and learns to simply listen. He discovers within himself a spirit of love and learns to accept human separateness... As Siddhartha grows older, a fundamental truth gradually becomes apparent both to him and to us: there is no single path to self-growth, no one formula for how to live life. Hesse challenges our ideas of what it means to lead a spiritual life, to strive after and to achieve meaningful self-growth through blind adherence to a religion, philosophy, or indeed any system of belief.

There was my connection. The aptly named Rita Faith tells me that Goddard says I have to die to my former state of mind. I have to imagine not how I will achieve what I want to achieve, but how I will feel (there's that Clawson again) when I have achieved it.

The Law of Attraction and other New Thought self-help books go back to the 19th century. The latest iteration by Rhonda Byrne, The Secret, has some major issues. For starters, Wayne Dyer wanted nothing to do with it. Second, Neville Goddard didn't think it was a secret at all and (apparently) he taught for some forty years never charging for his lectures, only asking for a contribution to his travelling expenses.

And more recently, Mark Manson has called "bullshit" on The Secret. And then it takes an interesting turn:

Call me crazy, but I believe that changing and improving your life requires destroying a part of yourself and replacing it with a newer, better part of yourself. It is therefore, by definition, a painful process full of resistance and anxiety. You can’t grow muscle without challenging it with greater weight. You can’t build emotional resilience without forging through hardship and loss. And you can’t build a better mind without challenging your own beliefs and assumptions.

Call me crazy, but isn't that what Goddard said? Isn't that what Rita Faith says, too? You have to actually DIE to your former self, not think it positively away with other positive delusionals!

Here is the key takeaway from Faith's short book. We can manage our impressions (or perceptions). For the Stoics, events are facts neither good nor bad, only our reaction to our impressions of these events is good or bad. To the Buddhists, as far as my reading takes me, our impressions of the world are the cause of our suffering. What if there was another way? And what if it wasn't a secret?

The Stoics leave out the how of managing our impressions. I still use Stoic philosophy, but as Seneca would have said, if Epicurus tells me something good I should use it. Rita Faith is telling me something good and I'm using it.

For all the times I have dwelt upon negative thoughts, becoming jaded at being overworked or overworking myself out of some sort of fear or self-doubt, or been afraid to be happy about something in case I jinx it, I can finally call bullshit.

There is no single way, religion, or philosophy. Human separateness (from Hesse), and individualism as a reaction to my senses (from Kerouac), versus re-programming my senses, or dying to my former state of mind, has provided me with a way to use my imagination to control my inner world. The Stoics tell me to do this, but they don't tell me how.

It's not the kind of delusional positive thinking that I abhor. It's like the law of attraction but it is also more like the experiences I have had when all of my mind and energies were focused and brought to bear on some purpose. And it can be done with memories, too. The idea of revision is to go back and reimagine the past. Not the events per se but the feelings.

It struck me that during one of my EMDR sessions, I recall an event as a kid in Western Sydney. I am in a fight with another kid. The mother of the kid I am fighting and her friend are standing by, telling the other kid how best to hurt me. 

I had mostly forgotten about the experience, but I remember a moment of clarity that makes me laugh. The mother's friend had mini-fox terriers. I looked at them and thought "wow they are cool dogs!" I have two of my own mini-foxies now! And so the memory is revised. No longer crapping on about a crappy situation, but grateful for my mutts and the revised memory.

And every day I think about how I will feel when I accomplish the things I aim to accomplish. Not how I will accomplish them. And much like giving myself time to think really works, giving myself time to feel works remarkably well, too. I am delighted that this book fills some gaps in my knowledge. Or, in the words of my sister:

Learning is cyclic, not linear. There are never any gaps, just the right timing and prior knowledge to build upon.

And all this from a 46-page page quick-read at AUD$3.99 via Kindle!

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Lessons from the Dalai Lama: Practise the Logic

Potala Palace, Lhasa, Tibet. Photo: Antoine Taveneaux [CC BY-SA 3.0] via Wikimedia.

How To Practise: The Way to a Meaningful Life by Dalai Lama XIV

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

It was with some trepidation that I thought I might adapt some of the Dalai Lama's ideas about "practice" to my own daily routine. I find the Dalai Lama to be more than charismatic; there is something about him that permeates the television. I was rather pleased when I read (p. 223):

Though my own knowledge is limited and my experience is also very poor, I have tried my best to help you understand the full breadth of the Buddha's teaching. Please implement whatever in these pages appears to be helpful. If you follow another religion, please adopt whatever might assist you. If you do not think it would be helpful, just leave it alone.

So, I have decided to adopt some things, and to leave others alone.

Things to keep:

I am impressed by the extent that Stoicism mirrors Buddhism in terms of logic and practice. I wonder to what extent Zeno of Cition (the founder of Stoicism) was influenced by Buddhist thought? Buddhism had reached the Seleucid Empire, and Zeno was apparently of Phoenician decent, so it is quite possible. 

According to Leesa Davis and Matthew Sharpe of Deakin University, it is not uncommon to see parallels between Stoicism and Buddhism, but there is not much in Western academic literature about it. I suspect this is because the boastfulness of "Western" thought would crumble once facts overcome pride. But I digress.

First, the "practice"of Buddhism is about changing ourselves (p. 9):

Individually we have to work to change the basic perspectives on which our feelings depend. We can only do so through training, by engaging in practice with the aim of gradually reorienting the way we perceive ourselves and others.

For the Stoics, this is based on the logic of what we can and cannot control (see Epictetus' Enchiridion), and then managing our impressions (or how we judge external events). Marcus Aurelius, often referred to as a "cosmopolitan", extended this to how we treat and respond to other people, reflected by the Dalai Lama, thus (p. 10):

The essential objective of daily practice is to cultivate an attitude of compassion and calm - a state of mind particularly crucial in human society today for its power to yield true harmony among nations, races, and people from diverse religious, political, and economic systems.

Second, the Dalai Lama confirms my approach to daily reflection, echoing Benjamin Franklin's Book of Virtues (p. 40):

Examine your motivation as often as you can. Even before getting out of bed in the morning, establish a nonviolent, nonabusive outlook for your day. At night examine what you did during the day.

The idea of examining my motivations is new to me, in that I rarely do this deliberately and certainly not every day.  Yet the idea of reinforcing the logic of the philosophy/religion is key. In my practice of Stoic philosophy over the past two years, I have found that if I do not constantly return to the logic, I act unconsciously, thus the maxim on my desk reads "avoid unconscious reaction, find the logic, create good habits".

The Dalai Lama says something similar, echoing Socrates (p. 38):

It is important to diminish undisciplined states of mind, but it is even more important to  meet adversity with a positive attitude.

I find here some divergence from Stoic practice. Arguably, this highlights some of the weaknesses of the Stoic idea of the "common good". The Dalai Lama is more utilitarian in his outlook (p. 39):

...ingesting [others'] negatives is not much of a problem for me, but it lessens their problems. I do this with such strong feeling that if later in the day in my office I hear of their atrocities, although one part of my mind is a little irritated and angry, the main part is still under the influence of the morning practice; the intensity of the hatred is reduced to where it is groundless.

Moreover, he sees hope as important, whereas the Stoics would see hope and fear as want and worry; things to be abandoned as beyond our control and therefore not worth pursuing. But for the Dalai Lama (p. 39):

Under no circumstances should you lose hope. Hopelessness is a real cause of failure. Be calm, even when the external environment is confused or complicated; it will have little effect if your mind is at peace.

Both Buddhism and Stoicism agree that anger is useless. This quote from the Dalai Lama could equally apply to the Stoics (p. 41):

Analyze your life closely. If you do, you will eventually find it difficult to misuse your life by becoming an automaton or by seeking money as the path to happiness.

Third, the idea of choosing how we react to external events lends some credence to the idea that, with practice, we can control how we react to our emotions, and not encourage emotions that are not useful (or at least prevent useless emotions based on our misjudged perceptions) (p. 42):

Regularly evaluate the possible negative and positive effects of feelings such as lust, anger, jealousy, and hatred. When it becomes obvious that their effects are very harmful, continue your analysis. Gradually your conviction will strengthen. Repeated reflection on the disadvantages of anger, for example, will cause you to realize that anger is senseless. This decision will cause your anger to diminish gradually.

Here is confirmation of the idea of finding the logic, and for me, it necessitates what religious and philosophical practice has preached for centuries. 

The key point is that once we have found the logic, when we can believe that the logic is true, there is no switch that enables a rational re-alignment of our behaviours from then on. The belief in the logic has to be reinforced, over and over again, through daily practice, so that we achieve what Paul Colaianni in The Overwhelmed Brain says is "congruence" (p. 29):

...aligning your intentions with your behavior (congruence).

This is no easy task and it requires reflection (morning and night at a minimum), judgement (of ourselves, not others),  and practice (the doing). But unless we can recall the logic (memorise it) and believe in the logic (in effect, remembering the logic and remembering to believe in it), then congruence readily remains aloof.

Things to consider:

The idea of "the middle way" was interesting, and echoes to some extent Aristotle's idea of the "golden mean" of virtue. But that is a rather flaky comparison. For example, the Dalai Lama writes of three categories of non-virtues (physical, verbal, and mental), and that virtues are the opposite of non-virtues. The non-virtues are:

• Physical: Killing, stealing, and sexual misconduct.
• Verbal: Lying, divisive talk, harsh speech, and senseless chatter.
• Mental: Covetousness, harmful intent, and wrong views.

But the idea of the "middle way" is more about a sense of logic. This is difficult to achieve and explain, but it is basically a process of being (p. 169): 

...pulled from one side to the other... [between] how phenomena arise in dependence on causes and conditions... [and how] persons and things appear to be so solidly existent, to exist in their own right, to exist inherently... the true middle way takes time to find.

Things to leave alone:

Of course, I have my own religious beliefs, so the religious practices of Sutra and Tantra are not for me. Not that it wasn't useful learning about Buddhist religious practice, and the Dalai Lama did this with such humour, at one point I burst out laughing (p. 124):

A yogi's meditation transforms [sex, delicious meat and drink, even human excrement and urine] into real ambrosia. For people like us, however, this is beyond our reach. As long as you cannot transform piss and shit, these other things should not be done!

Generally, the Dalai Lama suggests that a Buddha has no use for alcohol, drugs, or sexual intercourse (p. 195). There are many parallels between various religions, and the Dalai Lama does not shy away from speaking at or to other religions.

Reflections:

One thing I found interesting counters a critique by a Salvation Army preacher I once heard. He said that the Buddhist idea of meditating on nothing was dangerous, as the emptiness enabled the devil to enter. But the Dalai Lama says that a Christian could focus on Jesus. The idea of nothingness and emptiness are not the same, and that preacher knew enough to be dangerous.

The Dalai Lama speaks of ignorance thus (p. 44):

...ignorance is not just lack of knowledge but a consciousness that imagines the exact opposite of the truth; it misapprehends what is actually so. There are many levels of misperception, as in failing to understand what to adopt in practice and what to discard in daily behavior.

The biggest lesson for me is the importance of daily practice, especially as a way to cement a belief.  Religions and religious practice make sense in this regard. I don't mean that one should adopt a belief and force it upon oneself (or, indeed, others!). Rather, if there is a logic that one agrees with, then one must believe that logic.

The point is that unless we can turn to our logic in assessing events which we cannot control (in the Stoic sense), then how can we expect to behave rationally? If I have learnt anything from this journey into Buddhist theology and practice, logic and rational thinking rely on belief. But this is an examined belief, not one given to us, and it must be practised.

What I like most about the Dalai Lama is that he invited me to do so with this book and I am all the richer for it. And wouldn't it be wonderful if Stoicism has a direct link to Buddhism? The East-West divide perpetuated by ignoramuses would come crashing down in an instant!

The Republic: Religion rules, recipes for today's kitchens, and ¿Qué?

The Allegory of the Cave, Book VII. By Corpalma, 2011 [CC BY-SA 3.0] via Wikimedia.

The Republic by Plato

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Three things struck me about The Republic. The first is the incorporation of theology into philosophy. For all the goings on about religion in recent times and the apparent "victory" of science, Plato's philosophy begins and ends with Heraclitus' God. Almost none of the philosophy makes sense without the soul or a higher purpose for humans, and an intelligent deity that has ordered it all to be so.

Second, The Republic is a handbook for politics. Hardly an idea has escaped tyrants or politicians. Parts of the work are basically a program for political action. Of course, the examples provided from ancient times are not necessarily the equivalent of the polis today, but there is certainly an element of prediction that cannot be ignored. 

And third, the art of translation has a significant influence on the readability of classic texts, and this translation by Desmond Lee is fascinating. Lee includes extensive notes throughout the text. Many of the notes relate to the various translations by others, and Lee often admits when he is not sure of his translation. 

After reading Benjamin Jowett's translation of Meno, I was disappointed with how annoying Socrates appeared in the dialogue. Nonetheless, the dialogue in The Republic is so contrived as to make me wonder why bother having the interjections from the audience (who always agree with Socrates even when the logic is obscure?). 

Of course, dialogue is a literary and political device, but the differences between the various translations are significant, as they are with Homer's epic poetry. My marginalia is too extensive to write up in this space, but I have kept notes on pedagogy, the reliance on God to make sense of the philosophy, numerous other readings to complete, and Plato's various ideas that make this work timeless. 

One quote relating to teaching struck a chord (p. 300):

The teacher fears and panders to his pupils, who in turn despise their teachers and attendants.

As did the many references to democracy leading to tyranny brought about by a popular champion. Once again, I find that a complete reading reveals so much of my education that did not make a direct link to the original source. 

The allegory of the cave appears in almost any undergraduate degree in politics, but in such a cut-down version as to make the entire idea in relation to the allegory of the Sun and the Line and the division of knowledge into its levels of "truth" disappear. It makes we wonder how much has been lost by perpetually drawing on secondary sources in education. 

Again, translation fascinates me and I regret not having learnt more than one language when I was young, so I can only trust that Lee's translation does the original work justice (no pun intended). If I had known the impact a complete reading of this work would have on me, I would have attempted it much earlier. 

Having said that, without having read Homer, Hesiod, Heraclitus, and the Stoics, I think much of The Republic would have gone straight over my head. I have since commenced reading The Laws while I am in sync with Platos' dialectical dramatisation.

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Plato finds God, modern philosophers ignore Him, ego ruins Socratic method

Discourse into the Night, from William Blades' "Pentateuch of Printing with a Chapter on Judges” (1891). [Public Domain] via Wikimedia.

Meno by Plato

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This short dialogue on the issue of virtue (arete) and whether it can be taught is apparently one of Plato's works from his second literary period, written after Book 1 but before the remaining books of The Republic. The introduction to this version is by the translator, Benjamin Jowett.

There are few references to other works in the modern academic tradition, but Jowett makes particular mention of Meno in relation to the works of Descartes, Locke, Bacon, Hume, Spinoza, and Berkeley. I found this interesting as I have been exploring deductive versus inductive methods of research in recent times. Plato tends to be deductive, in moving from general ideas and principles to specifics, whereas the inductive method draws on specific cases to lead to general principles. Karl Popper was not a fan of induction, it seems.

That Plato draws on Pythagoras and Heraclitus is obvious, but Jowett points out that there is no explicitly stated link. Most interesting was Plato's finding (through the words of Socrates, p. 75):

Then, Meno, the conclusion is that virtue comes to the virtuous by the gift of God.

That this is an early work makes sense. I frequently adopt the Socratic method in my teaching (as does much of academe even if implicitly) and a few times I have received feedback that sums it up thus:

The Socratic method sucks. I hate it.

By the end of this work, I couldn't help think that Socrates was being egotistical. Sure, he tried to shock people to realise their ignorance, but in this case, and as important as the idea is to so many philosophers, but in particular, Heraclitus, I thought the finding was quite a cop-out. All that posturing to say what Heraclitus had said more eloquently?

The big lesson for me is that the Socratic method, when practised by the un- or under-practised, could easily come off as it does in Meno. I am half-way through a cover-to-cover reading of The Republic at the moment, which seems better polished and far less obtuse. It may well be that Desmond Lee's translation is better than Jowett's. But clearly, if I am to be better at using the Socratic method, I must take into account how an amateurish use of the method may come off as egotistical with my students. I can recall the instances where this may well have been the case.

But the idea of deduction versus induction and Jowett's comments on Plato in relation to other philosophers ranging from Descartes to Spinoza are worthy of further exploration.

Additionally, Jowett states that modern philosophy no longer asks the sort of questions asked by Plato (p. 29). I think this explains why Nietzsche's madman shouts in the market place (The Gay Science, section 125, p. 90):

God is dead! ... And we have killed him!

Here Plato has Socrates tell us that virtue is a gift of God, which I can see means that to be virtuous requires one to find God. Rather than the shopkeepers telling Nietzsche's madman that they didn't know we had lost Him, and in spite of Plato's unrefined use of the dialogue (compared to his more advanced, later use), it would seem that modern philosophers are the crowd looking on and laughing at Nietzsche's madman (or, if you prefer, Huxley's self-flagellating Savage), while all the time they have forgotten their very origins. 

But best not to be egotistical and amateurish.

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Hesiod's Misogyny (err... Theogony) and his Unhelpful Contribution to Internet Bulletin Boards (Works and Days)

Dance of the Muses on Mount Helicon, 1807 by Bertel Thorvaldsen  (1770–1844) [CC0 1.0].

Hesiod's Theogony and Works and Days are interesting in the context of other classic works and provide an interesting understanding of the genealogy of the ancient Greek gods and the agrarian life of the time. This is a work of poetry translated into prose and there are some issues.

The first thing that struck me was the misogyny of Theogony. Women (pp. 20-21) were sent down by Zeus as a curse to men:

No fit partners for accursed Poverty, but only for Plenty... a bane for mortal men has high-thundering Zeus created women, conspirators in causing difficulty.

The misogyny doesn't stop there. In Works and Days, the mythological Pandora (echoing Eve in Genesis), releases evil upon the world (p. 39). Not by opening a "box" as Erasmus mistakenly conveyed, but by opening a clay storage jar (p. xiv).
La Rochefoucauld's maxims often talk about love as an illness that is difficult to cure, no doubt echoing Hesiod (p. 21):

...the man who gets a good wife who is sound and sensible, spends his life with bad competing constantly against good; while the man who gets the awful kind lives with unrelenting pain in heart and spirit, and it is an ill without cure.

In Works and Days, Hesiod provides advice to living the agrarian life. Virgil seems to echo Hesiod in his Eclogues and Georgics. But Virgil is reflecting back on the simple life, whereas Hesiod reminds me of people offering advice on an internet bulletin board (p. 56):

I will show you the measure of the resounding sea - quite without instruction as I am either in seafaring or in ships; for as to ships, I have never yet sailed the broad sea...

Of course, in true bulletin board style, Hesiod goes on to instruct others in how and when to sail.

This is an important historical work and well worth reading. But while there are instances of timeless proverbs (which have tended to reappear through history), I don't think I will be taking on too much of Hesiod's advice any time soon.

The Wit and Wisdom of Desmond Tutu

Desmond Tutu. Photo by Elke Wetzig (Elya) [CC-BY-SA-3.0] via Wikimedia.

Believe: The words and inspiration of Desmond Tutu by Desmond Tutu

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This short book includes an introduction by Desmond Tutu and a short biographical essay by Mike Nicol. The quotes are interesting and inspiring. It is a little like the Dover Wit and Wisdom series of books, although somewhat shorter. The most interesting quote concerns Ubuntu, "a central tenet of African philosophy:

A person is a person through other persons.

Many great thinkers influence these quotes, including Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius, Jeremy Bentham,. John Stuart Mill, and George Santayana. But my favourite quote (which echoes Mill) is:

Differences are not intended to separate or alienate. We are different precisely in order to realise our need of one another.

Although this is a very short book, I am glad I picked it up at my local second-hand bookstore and it has taught me a little about Desmond Tutu and courage and compassion in the face of terrible oppression.

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