What is humanity: The love that moves the sun and all the other stars

What is humanity?: The love that moves the sun and all the other stars

dedicated to Benjamin Booi, a future philosopher

To my beloved parents, friends, care workers, colleagues and teachers, who have helped, either in the past or in the present, to make this one of the best and most curious days of my life, having completed my MA thesis with distinction, let me extend my sincerest thanks and gratitude; for contented as I am, I have received quite enough praise. If it is, indeed, true that I have done well, despite often succumbing to vice, it is only because I have been properly supported, taught and loved by the many diverse people in my life, who have enriched it with their innumerable virtues and beauty in all its senses. I would be nothing without the extraordinary persons and marvelous things that make up my world.

All the talk of’ negativity’ in philosophy often makes us forget that contingency ought to ignite an inextinguishable fire of gratitude within the hearts of the women and men, who are fortunate enough to dwell on this earth for all too short a time, and whose capacities are often unnecessarily limited by chains of  injustice. Though my flame often waivers, almost to the point of oblivion, it never truly goes out, since I always have access to the twin illuminations afforded by both reason and love. I see this in books and art, perhaps too often, it’s true, but I also have tremendous resources, as I engage in open dialogue with the persons around me. For every person is a library, the extent of whose catalog one can only begin to understand, and at that, with tremendous interpretive effort and humility. Every sentient being, as an epistemological resource, is to be treated with the same respect that we lovers of wisdom treat canonical texts; both have resources we can only begin to understand, and both require extreme patience and care.

As I move forward, hoping to teach, but knowing that is unlikely, I feel obliged to give thanks for my tremendous education (formal and informal, undergraduate and graduate. I see the pursuit of reason and beauty as a tremendous gift, since my parents were told that it was likely I would not speak. This rather dire scenario aside, it genuinely horrifies me to think about what my life may have been like without constant attempts to engage in dialogue with being, in order to question concepts of beauty and truth, historically conditioned though these questions are.  As Plato knew well, knowledge cannot be separated from virtue. Our thoughts about the world must  cause us to act with love, contentment, humility, patience, constancy, and bravery within it. Only then will we commit to caring and justice, which can have extraordinary and unforeseen consequences. In my education, I have found this, and I can only hope to improve the world from what I have been fortunate enough to learn. It’s not an exaggeration to say that, were it not for the humanities, and those interested to teach them, I probably would have ended my life in a manner far less poetic than that of Socrates. So I owe to my education, my life in general, as well as what little beauty and wisdom I have gained. Being gay, I find it comically ironic that Sophia is my most constant, though admittedly not physically satisfying, lover and beloved. And she will never desert you, for as long as you live and, perhaps, after you die.

And so, Benjamin, you rightly tell me that the history of political thought is boring. Okay. I’ll concede that the first time it often is. And you make the somewhat more dubious claim that, you simply will not like classical music, as aesthetic preferences are simply a matter of choice. God knows, just like you in second year, my initial erotic liaison with Lady philosophy amounted to the worst kind of sexual encounter imaginable; I was equally and simultaneously, bored, frightened, confused, tearful, indignant, and wrathful, as well as many of the other vices about which I had to read. And as you know all too well, from being my colloquially Platonic friend, my second encounter with Plato, though Grecian in inspiration, was anything but Platonic, in both senses. But as time passes, a thoughtful life, in my youthful yet considered estimation, is one full of innumerable consolations and pleasures beyond the transitory. This is to say that a thoughtful life need not be and, indeed, must not be, austere, tiresome or lugubrious; on the contrary, we ought to derive great pleasure from it. It is from my sheer love of pleasure and, thus, sheer love of love, for all things and all humankind, that I pursue wisdom. I hope this is not, primarily, for my own satisfaction, but out of devotion to the quest for truth and the challenge to understand others, as a committed, though temporary, citizen of the world.

I am not here to tyrannize or judge anyone, knowing all too well that approach to education and friendship is extremely ineffective, unhealthy and painful. Everyone is a miracle, while having to do very little, in order to deserve love, grace and forgiveness, whether one believes in Christianity or not. I simply think that everyone’s life could be more still, having beauty and truth, if we find unique and ever-changing ways to serve its manifestations. Whether, for you, this involves reading Plato and listening to classical music, I cannot say. Yet I do urge you to give both a sincere try; for we are both highly erotic men, in the broad sense, so I can only presume that, as I was, in time, you will be drawn to the beauty you may find contained in these things, and so many others, as we both hope to live different lives, which, though they may diverge are, united in the pursuit of justice, excellence and caring.

You’re already so far on the way to being perfect, just by being the authentic, compassionate and engaging person that you are. Yet here is some humble advice from an aspiring philosopher, who, as a lover of wisdom, must acknowledge that he knows nothing. I am not much older than you, nor much wiser, so we are both bound to make comic and tragic errors until we die — such things comprise the wonderful drama of life, which is far greater than any of the classics you will read. Yet always be sure that you are the author of your own life. For when you seek approval from the many, surrendering the copyright of your narrative to convention, you become a slave to vices, particularly narcissistic inadequacy and capital accumulation. So take time to pen your own pros with thoughtful precision, since then you will begin to possess more peace. This is why I truly believe the unexamined life to be not worth living. And why you should never stop being an enthusiastic, though reasonable, optimist. “Be in the world but not of the world”.

Never let anyone tell you to not have fun or that they have a right to judge you, since they don’t. You probably don’t need my advice on this, but it’s always good to hear, as well as great to put on paper, that no one is more perfect than she who loves with a sincere heart and is curious with the same. Run from needless conventions, as you would a fatal disease. Always take time to listen to your conscience and consider the advice of other people seriously. This requires that you take time to get to know them, and most importantly, yourself. Put down your cell phone. Smell flowers. This is what I’ve learned in school.

Love yourself, whenever people won’t; love truth wherever people don’t. For in doing these two things we experience the full extent of humanity and the humanities. For as St. Paul says, “if I speak with the tongues of men and Angels and have not love, I am nothing. And, as Jesus says in the gospel, “the truth shall set you free”; so the greatest gift you get from a humanistic education is brief moments in which you experience peace, having felt “the love that moves the sun and all the other stars”. Why Plato chose the sun to represent the concept of The Good is that it doesn’t discriminate, no one can deplete its power, and it never tires of shedding light or giving us a sense of peace, when we feel the warmth of its illumination.