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The essence of poetry is that it deals with events which concern a large number of people and can be grasped not as immediate personal experience but as matter known largely from heresy and presented in simplified and often abstract forms. it is thus the antithesis of all poetry which deals with the special, individual activity of the self and tries to present this as specially and as individually as it can. The poet who deals with public themes may himself be affected, even deeply, by contemporary events at some point in his own being, but to see them in their breadth and depth he must rely largely on what he hears from other men and from mass instruments of communication. From the start his impulse to write about them is different from any impulse to write about his own affairs. It may be just as strong and just as compelling, but it is not of the same kind. He has to give his own version of something which millions of others may share with him, and however individual he may wish to be, he cannot avoid relying to a large extent on much that he knows only from second hand.

Fundamentally this may not matter, for after all what else did Shakespeare do: but the political poet does not construct an imaginary past, he attempts to grasp and interpret a vast present. Between him and his subject there is a gap which he can never completely cross, and all his attempts to make events part of himself must be to some extent hampered by recalcitrant elements in them, which he does not understand or cannot assimilate or find irrelevant to his creative task. in such poetry selection which is indispensable to all art, has to be made from an unusually large field of possibilities and guided by an exacting sense of what really matters and what does not. On one side he may try to include too much and lose himself in issues where be is not imaginatively at home, on the other side he may see some huge event merely from a private angle which teed not meab much to others. Political poetry oscillates between these extremes, and its history in our time has been largely attempts to make the best of one or the other of them or to see what compromises can be made between them.

Up to a point the Second German War resembled the first. Each began with a German bid for power which almost succeeded in spite of the opposition of France and Great Britain. In each the United States came to the rescue after year of neutrality. Each ended with a German defeat. But the differences were easier to see than the resemblances. The powers were differently grouped: Italy and Japan were on the German side, Russia was neutral until the Germans attacked across what had been, to begin with, Poland and Baltic States. The second war lasted even longer than the other. It pressed harder on the civilian population. After a period of restraint, perhaps, intended to conciliate American opinion, both sides dropped bombs from the air, without respect for the nature of the targets, wherever the officers concerned expected to cause the greatest effect. In Great Britain 60,000 civilians were killed. Though the Island was not invaded, the population was more directly involved than it was in any former war. Children and others were evacuated from towns into the country. Food supplies ran so short that, at the worst, even potatoes were rationed. Of all the states opposed to Germany, Great Britain was the only one which fought throughout the war. The resources of the nation were concentrated in the war effort more completely than those of any other nation on either side. Labour for women as well as men, became compulsory. Nevertheless, once the war reached its full severity in the west, eight months after it was declared, there was less disunion between classes and interests than in any other five years within living memory. Fighting spread all over the world. The Pacific was as vital a theatre as Europe. Scientists, especially Physicists, made revolutionary discoveries during the war, not only in the fields of weapons and defence against them, but in supply, transport, and control in action. Strange to say the fight services suffered fewer casualties than in 1914-18: 300,000 of the armed forces and 35,000 of the navy were killed. There was nothing like the trench warfare of former war, though there was almost every other sort of warfare, from mechanized war of movement in the North African desert to hand to hand jungle fighting in Burma. Both sides experimented and built up stocks for gas warfare and biological warfare, but neither side used them. (George Clark: English History: a survey)

As a kind of foot-note I should comment that there are those who doubt whether it is within the power of science to ensure over a prolonged period freedom from destitution and famine for mankind. The argument -is the old one of Maithus, that in the race between increasing population and increasing production, population must eventually win. Those of us who decline to accept this pessimistic view recognize the difficulty of the practical problem of meeting the needs of an ever-expanding population. We have, however, greater faith in human resourcefulness. We note that it is not only in the technology of production and medicine that the present generation differs so greatly from the one before. A similar rapid change is likewise occurring the thinking of masses of people. This change is brought about partly by experience with technology by more widespread education. Here lies a new realm in which dramatic advance is being made. The hope for the longer future lies in a growing understanding of the conditions for the good life of man in a world of science and technology, and the acceptance of a morality that is consistent with these conditions. With the widespread thought now being given to such problems by persons whose thinking is schooled to rely on reason and tested fact. It is evident that advance from this angle will also appear. Youth may, for example, consider the sere marks as an effort to see in iruer perspective the type of ideals that are appropriate to the age of science. Many are those who are now sharing to this exploration of human values. The great question is whether such understanding of human goals and the corresponding development of morals can be achieved before the forces seen by Maithus, and emphasized so forcefully by recent writers, overwhelm the efforts of the pioneers in this new and critical field. I do not believe that this is inevitable. Jam confident of man’s ability to meet and solve this ethical problem that is so vital to the success of his effort to achieve physical and spiritual freedom. It is relevant that as I analyse the reasons for my faith in man’s eventual ability to meet this critical problem. I find that prominent in my mind is the confidence that God who made us holds for us an increasing density, to be achieved through our own efforts in the world setting that he supplies. This observation is significant in the present setting because it is my strong impression that most of those who have the firm faith in man’s advancement likewise have a religious basis for their faith. If this impression is valid its consequence is clear. It means that it is men and women of religious faith on whom we must primarily rely to work strongly toward achieving a favourable world society. It means also that those of religious faith because of their faith have a better chance of survival, a fact that has a bearing on the attitude that may be expected in the society of the future.

Man is pie-eminently an animal good a gadgets. However, there is reason for doubting his good judgment in their utilization. Perhaps the first chemical process which man employed for his own service was combustion. First utilized to warm naked and chilled bodies, it was then discovered to be effective for scaring off nocturnal beasts of prey and an admirable agent for the preparation and preservation of food. Much later came the discovery that fire could be used in extracting and working metals and last of all that it could be employed to generate power. En ancient times man began to use fire as a weapon, beginning with incendiary torches and arrow and proceeding to explosives, which have been developed principally for the destruction of human beings and their works. In the control and utilization of gases, the achievements of our species have not been commendable. One might begin with air, which man breathes in common with other terrestrial vertebrates. He differs from other animals in that he seems incapable of selecting the right kind of air for breathing. Man is for ever doing things which foul the air and poisoning himself by his own stupidity. He pens himself up in a limited air space and suffocates, he manufactures noxious gases which accidentally or intentionally displace the air and remove him from the ranks of the living, he has been completely unable to filter the air of the disease germs, which he breathes to his detriment, he and all his works are powerless to prevent a hurricane or to withstand its force. Man has indeed been able to utilize the power of moving air currents to a limited extent and to imitate the flight of birds, with the certainty of eventually breaking his neck if he tries it.

Man uses water much in the same way as other animals, ho has to drink it constantly, washes in it frequently, and drowns it occasionally — probably oftener than other terrestrial vertebrates. Without water, he dies as miserably as any other beast and with too much of it, as in floods, he is equally unable to cope. However, he excels other animals in that he has learned to utilize water power. But it is rather man’s lack of judgment in the exercise of control of natural resources which would disgust critics of higher intelligence, although it would not surprise the apes. Man observes that the wood of trees is serviceable for constructing habitation and other buildings. He straightaway and recklessly denudes the earth of forests. in so far as he is able. He finds that the meat and skins of the bison are valuable and immediately goes to work to exterminate the bison. He allows his grazing animals to strip the turf from the soil so that it is blown away and fertile places become deserts. He clears for cultivation and exhausts the rich land by stupid planting. He goes into wholesale production of food, cereals, fruits and livestock and allows the fruits of his labour to rot or to starve because he has not provided any adequate method of distributing them or because no one can pay for them. He invents machines which do the work of many men, and is perplexed by the many men who are out of work. It would be hard to convince judges of human conduct that man is not an economic fool.

What virtues must we require of a man to whom we entrust directing of our affairs? Above all, a sense of what is possible. In politics it is useless to formulate great and noble projects if, due to the existing state of the country, they cannot be accomplished. The impulses of a free people are at all times a parallelogram of forces. The great statesman realizes precisely what these forces are and says to himself without ever being seriously mistaken: "I can go just so far and no farther.” He does not allow himself to favour one class, foreseeing the inevitable reactions of the neglected groups. A prudent doctor does not cure his patient of a passing complaint with a remedy that produces a permanent disease of the liver, and a judicious statesman neither appeases the working class at the risk of angering the bourgeoisie, nor does he indulge the bourgeoisie at the expense of the working class. He endeavours to regard the nation as a great living body whose organs are interdependent. He takes the temperature of public opinion every day, and if the fever increases he sees to it that the country rests.

Though he may fully appreciate the power of public opinion, a forceful and clever statesman realizes that he can influence it fairly easily. He has calculated the people’s power to remain indifferent to his efforts, they have their moment of violence, and their angry protests are legitimate if the Government brings poverty on them, takes away their traditional liberty, or seriously interferes with their home life. But they will allow themselves to be led by a man who knows where he is going and who shows them clearly that he has the nation’s interest at heart and that they may have confidence in him.
The sense of what is possible is not only the ability to recognize that certain things are impossible — a negative virtue — but also to know that, a- courageous man, things which appear to be very difficult are in fact possible. A great statesman does not say to himself: “This nation is weak”, but “This nation is asleep: I shall wake it up. Laws and institutions are of the people’s making, if necessary, I shall -change them.” But above all, the determination to do something must be followed by acts, not merely words. Mediocre politicians spend most of their time devising schemes and preaching doctrines. They talk of structural reforms, they invent faultless social systems and formulate plans for perpetual peace. In his public speeches the true statesman knows how, if necessary, to make polite bows to new theories and to pronounce ritualistic phrases for the benefit of those who guard temple gates, but he actually occupies himself by taking care of the real needs of the nation. He endeavours to accomplish definite and precise objectives in ways that seem best to him. If he finds obstacles in his path, he makes detours.
Vanity, intellectual pride, and a feeling for system are serious handicaps to the politician. Some party leaders are ready to sacrifice the country for a theory or a set of principles. The true leader says: “Let the principles go but I must save the nation.”

The present-day industrial establishment is a great distance removed from that of the - last century or even of twenty-five years ago. This improvement has been the result of a variety of forces-government standards and factory inspection: general technological and architectural advance by substituting machine power for heavy or repetitive manual, labour, the need to compete for a labour force: and union intervention to improve working conditions in addition to wages and hours.

However, except where the improvement contributed to increased productivity, the effort to make work more pleasant has had to support a large burden of proof. It was permissible to seek the elimination of hazardous, unsanitary, unhealthful, or otherwise objectionable conditions of work. The speedup might be resisted-to a point. But the test was not what was agreeable but what was unhealthful or, at a minimum, excessively fatiguing. The trend toward increased leisure is not reprehensible, but we resist vigorously the notion that a man should work less hard on the job. Here older attitudes are involved. We are gravely suspicious of any tendency to expand less than the maximum effort, for this has long been a prime economic virtue.

In strict logic there is as much to be said for making work pleasant agreeable as for shortening hours. On the whole it is probably as important for a wage-earner to have pleasant working conditions as a pleasant home. To a degree, he can escape the latter but not the former — though no doubt the line between an agreeable tempo and what is flagrant feather-bedding is difficult to draw. Moreover it is a commonplace of the industrial scene that the dreariest and most burdensome tasks, requiring as they do a minimum of thought and skill frequently have the largest number of takers. The solution to this problem lies, as we shall see presently, in driving up the supply of crude manpower at the bottom of the ladder. Nonetheless the basic point remains, the case for more leisure is not stronger on purely prima facie grounds than the case for making labour-time itself more agreeable. The test, it is worth repeating, is not the effect on productivity. it is not seriously argued that the shorter work week increases productivity that men produce more in fewer hours than they would in more. Rather it is whether fewer hours are always to be preferred to more but pleasant ones.

Those who regard the decay of civilisation as something quite normal and natural console themselves with the thought that it is not civilisation, but a civilisation, which is falling a prey to dissolution, that there will be a new age and a new race in which there will blossom a new civilisation. But that is a mistake. The earth no longer has in reverse, as it had once, gifted peoples as yet unused, who can relieve us and take our place in some distant future as the leaders of our spiritual life. We already know all those that the earth has to dispose of. There is not one among them which is not already taking such a part in our civilisation that its spiritual fate is determined by our own. All of them, the gifted and the un-gifted, the distant and the near, have felt the influence of those forces of barbarism which are yet working among us. All of them are, like ourselves, diseased, and only as we--recover can they recover.

It is not the civilisation of a race, but that of mankind, present and future alike, that we must give up as lost, if belief in the rebirth of our civilisation is a vain thing. But it need not be so given up. If the ethical is the essential element in civilisation, decadence changes into renaissance as on as ethical activities are set to work again in our convictions and in the ideas which we undertake to stamp upon reality. The attempt to bring this about is well worth making, and it should be world wide. It is true that the difficulties that have to be reckoned with in this undertaking are so great that only the strongest faith in the power of the ethical spirit will let us venture on it.

Again the renewal of civilisation is hindered by the fact that it is so exclusively the individual personality which must be looked to as the agent in the new movement. The renewal of civilisation has nothing to do with movements which bear the character of the experiences of the crowd, these are never anything but reactions to external happenings. But civilisation can only revive when there shall come into being in a number of individuals a new tone of mind independent of the one prevalent among the crowd and in opposition to it, a tone of mind which gradually win influence over the collective one, and in the end determine its character. It is only an ethical movement which can rescue us from the slough of barbarism, and the ethical comes into existence only in individuals.

The final decision as to what the future of a society shall be depends not only how near its organisation is to perfection, but on the degrees of worthiness in its individual members. The most important, and yet the least easily determinable, element in history is the series of unobtrusive general changes which take place in the individual dispositions, and that is why it is so difficult to understand thoroughly the men and events of past times. The character and worth of individuals among the mass and the way they work themselves into membership of the whole body, receiving influences from its and giving others back, we can even today only partially and uncertainly understand.

One thing, however, is clear. Were the collective body works more strongly on the individual than the latter does upon it, the result is deterioration because the noble element on which everything depends, namely the spiritual and moral worthiness of the individual is thereby necessarily constricted and hampered. Decay of the spiritual and moral life then sets in which renders society incapable of understanding and solving the problems which it has to face. Therefore sooner or later, it is involved in catastrophe, and that is why it is the duty of individuals to a higher conception of their capabilities and undertake the function which only the individual can perform, that of producing new spiritual-ethical ideas. If this does not come about many times over nothing can save us.

I was a firm believer in democracy, whereas he (D. H. Lawrence) had developed the whole philosophy of Fascism before the politicians had thought of it. “I don’t believe,-”he wrote, “in democratic control. I think the working man is fit to elect governors or overseers for his immediate circumstances, but for no more. You must utterly revise the electorate: The working man shall elect superiors for the things that concern him immediately, no more. From the other classes, as they rise, shall be elected the higher governors. The thing must culminate in one real head, as every organic thing must-no foolish republics with no foolish presidents, but an elected king, something like Julius Caesar,” He, of a course, in his imagination, supposed that when a dictatorship was established he would be the Julius Caesar. This was the part of the dream-like quality of all his thinking. He never let himself bump into reality. He would go into long tirades about how one must proclaim “the truth” to the multitude, and he seemed to have no doubt that multitude would listen. Would he put his political philosophy into a book? No in our corrupt society the written word is always a lie. Would he go in Hyde Park-and proclaim “the Truth” from a soap box? No: That would be far too dangerous (odd streaks of prudence emerged in him from time to time). Well, I said, what would you do? At this point he would change the subject Gradually I discovered that he had no real wish to make the world better, but only to indulge in eloquent Soliloquy about how had it was. If anybody heard the soliloquies so much the better, but they were designed at most to produce a little faithful band of disciples who could sit in the deserts of New Mexico and feel holy. All this was conveyed to me in the language of a Fascist dictator as what I must preach, the “must” having thirteen underlining.” (Lord Russell)

Probably the only protection for contemporary man is to discover how to use his intelligence in the service of love and kindness. The training of human intelligence must include the simultaneous development of the empathic capacity. Only in this way can intelligence be made an instrument of social morality and responsibility — and thereby increase the chances of survival. The need to produce human beings with trained morally sensitive intelligence is essentially a challenge to educators and educational institutions. Traditionally, the realm of social morality was left to religion and the churches as guardians or custodians. But their failure to fulfill this responsibility and their yielding to the seductive lures of the men of wealth and! pomp and power and documented by the history of the last two thousand years and have now resulted in the irrelevant “God Is Dead” theological rhetoric The more pragmatic men of power have had no time or inclination to deal with the fundamental problems of social morality. For them simplistic Machiavellianism must remain the guiding principle of their decisions-power is morality, morality is power. This oversimplification increases the chances of nuclear devastation. We must therefore hope that educators and educational institutions have the capacity, the commitment and the time to instill moral sensitivity as an integral part of the complex pattern of function human intelligence. Some way must be found in the training of human beings to give them the assurance to love, the security to be kind. and the integrity required for a functional empathy.

The attention we give to terrorism often seems disproportionate to its real importance. Terrorism incidents make superb copy for journalists, but kill and main fewer people than road accidents. Nor is terrorism politically effective. Empires rise and fall according to the real determinants of politics — namely overwhelming force or strong popular support-not according to a bit of mayhem caused by isolated fanatics whom one would take seriously enough to vote for it. Indeed, the very variety of incidents that might be described as “terrorism” has been such as to lead critics to suggest that no single subject for investigation exists at all. Might we not regard terrorism as a kind of minor blotch on the skin of an industrial civilization whose very heart is filled with violent dreams and aspirations. Who would call in the dermatologist when the heart itself is sick.

But popular opinion takes terrorism very serious indeed and popular opinion is probably right. For the significance of terrorism lies not only in the grotesque nastiness of terroristic outrages but also in the moral claims they imply. Terrorism is the most dramatic exemplification of the moral fault of blind willfulness. Terrorism is a solipsistic denial of the obligation of self-control we all must recognise when we live in civilized communities. Certainly the sovereign high road to misunderstanding terrorism is the pseudo scientific project of attempting to discover its causes. Terrorists themselves talk of the frustrations which have supposedly necessitated their actions but to transform these facile justifications into scientific hypotheses is to succumb to the terrorists own fantasies. To kill and main people is a choice people make, and glib invocations of necessity are baseless. Other people living in the same situation see no such necessity at all. Hence their are no “causes” of terrorism, only decision to terrorize. It is a moral phenomenon and only a moral discussion can be adequate to it.

An important part of management is the making of rules. As a means of regulating the functioning of an organisation so that most routine matters are resolved without referring each issue to the manager they are an essential contribution to efficiency. The mere presence of carefully considered rules has the double-edged advantage of enabling workers to know how far they can go, what is expected of them and what channels of action to adopt on the one side, and, on the other, of preventing the management from the behaving in a capricious manner. The body of rules fixed by the company for itself acts as its constitution, which is binding both on employees and employers, however, it must be remembered that rules are made for people, not people for rules. If conditions and needs change rules ought to change with them. Nothing is sadder than the mindless application of rules which are out-date and irrelevant. An organisation suffers from mediocrity if it is too rule-bound. People working in will do the minimum possible. It is called “working to rule or just doing enough to ensure that rules are not broken. But this really represents the lowest level of the employer/employee relationship and an organisation afflicted by this is in an unhappy condition indeed. Another important point in rule-making is to ensure that they are rules which can be followed. Some rules are so absurd that although everyone pays lip-service to them, no one really bothers to follow them. Often the management knows this but can do nothing about it. The danger of this is, if a level of disrespect for one rule is created this might lead to an attitude of disrespect for all rules. One should take it for granted that nobody likes rules, nobody wants to be restricted by them, and, given a chance, riots people will try and break them. Rules which cannot be followed are not only pointless, they are actually damaging to the structure of the

Objectives pursued by, organisations should be directed to the satisfaction of demands resulting from the wants of mankind. Therefore, the determination of appropriate objectives for organised activity must be preceded by an effort to determine precisely what their wants are. Industrial organisations conduct market studies to learn what consumer goods should be produced. City Commissions make surveys to ascertain what civic projects would be of most benefit. Highway Commissions conduct traffic counts to learn what constructive programmes should be undertaken. Organisations come into being as a means for creating and exchanging utility. Their success is dependent upon the appropriateness of the series of acts contributed to the system. The majority of these acts is purposeful, that is, they are directed to the accomplishment of some objective. These acts are physical in nature and find purposeful employment in the alteration of the physical environment. As a result utility is created, which, through the process of distribution, makes it possible for the cooperative system to endure. Before the Industrial Revolution most cooperative activity was accomplished in small owner-managed enterprises, usually with a single decision maker and simple organisational objectives. Increased technology and the growth of industrial organisations made necessary the establishment of a hierarchy of objectives. This, in turn, required a division of the management, function until today a hierarchy of decision maker exists in most organisations.. The effective pursuit of appropriate objectives contributes directly the organisational efficiency. As used here, efficiency is a measure of the want satisfying power of the cooperative system as a whole. Thus efficiency is the summation of utilities received from the organisation divided by the utilities given to the organisation, as subjectively evaluated by each contributor. The function of the management process is the delineation of organisational objectives and the coordination of activity towards the accomplishment of these objectives. The system of coordinated activities must be maintained so that each contributor, including the manager, gains more than he contributes.

Rural development lies at the heart of any meaningful development strategy. This is the only mechanism to carry the message to the majority of the people and to obtain their involvement in measures designed to improve productivity levels. Rural population exceeds 70 percent of the total population of the country, despite a rapid rate of urbanization. Average rural income is 34 percent less than per capita urban income. A large part of under employment is still concealed in various rural activities particularly in the less developed parts of the country. For centuries, the true magnitude of poverty has been concealed from view by pushing a large part of it to the rural areas. This set in motion a self-perpetuating mechanism. The more enterprising and talented in the rural society migrated to the cities in search of dreams which were seldom realized. Such migrants added to urban squalor. The relatively more prosperous in the rural society opted for urban residence for different reasons. The rural society itself has in this way systematically been denuded of its more enterprising elements, as rural areas developed the character of a huge and sprawling slum. Development in the past has touched rural scene mainly via agricultural development programmes. These are essential and would have to be intensified. Much more important is a large scale expansion of physical and social infrastructure on the village scene. These included rural roads, rural water supply and village electrification as a part of the change in the physical environment and primary education and primary health care as the agents of social change. The task is to provide modern amenities as an aid for bringing into motion the internal dynamics of the rural society on a path leading to increase in productivity and self-help, changing the overall surrounding, while preserving coherence, integrated structure and the rich cultural heritage of the rural society.

It is no doubt true that we cannot go through life without sorrow. There can be no sunshine without shade. We must not complain that roses have thorns, but rather be grateful that thorns bear flowers. Our existence here is so complex that we must expect much sorrow and much suffering. Many people distress and torment themselves about the mystery of existence. But although a good man may at times be angry with the world, it is certain that no man was ever discontented with the world who did his duty in it. The world is a looking-glass, if you smile, it smiles, if you frown, it frowns back. If you look at it-through a red glass, all seems red and rosy: if through a blue, all blue, if through a smoked one, all dull and dingy. Always try then to look at the bright side of things, almost everything in the world has a bright side. There are some persons whose smile, the sound of whose voice, whose very presence seems like a ray of sunshine and brightens a whole room. Greet everybody with a bright smile, kind words and a pleasant welcome. It is not enough to love those who are near and dear to us. We must show that we do so. While, however, we should be grateful, and enjoy to the full the innumerable blessings of life, we cannot expect to have no sorrows or anxieties. Life has been described as a comedy to those who think, and a tragedy to those feel. It is indeed a tragedy at times and a comedy very often, but as a rule, it is what we choose to make it. No evil, said Socrates, can happen to a good man, either in Life or Death. -

Climate influences labour not only by enervating the labourer or by invigorating him, but also by the effect it produces on the regularity of his habits. Thus we find that no people living in a very northern latitude have ever possessed that steady and unflinching industry for which the inhabitants of temperate regions are remarkable. In the more northern countries the severity of the weather, and, at some seasons, the deficiency of light, render it impossible for the people to continue their usual out-of-door employments. The result is that the working classes, being compelled to cease from their ordinary, pursuits, arc rendered move prone to desultory habits, the chain of their industry is, as it were, broken, and they lose that impetus which long-continued and uninterrupted practice never fails to give. Hence there arises a national character more fitful-and capricious than that possessed by a people whose climate permits the regular exercise of their ordinary industry. Indeed so powerful is this principle that we perceive its operations even under the most opposite circumstances. It would be difficult to conceive a greater difference in government, laws, religion, and manners, than that which distinguishes Sweden and Norway, on the one hand, from Spain and Portugal on the other. But these four countries have one great point in common. In all of them continued agricultural -industry is impracticable. In the two Southern countries labour is interrupted by the dryness of the weather and by the consequent state of the soil. In the northern countries the same effect is produced by the severity-of the winter and the shortness of the days. The consequence is that these four nations, though so different in other respects, are all remarkable for a certain instability and fickleness of character.

One of the fundamental facts about words is that the most useful ones in our language have many meanings. That is partly why they are so useful: they work overtime... Think of -all the various things we mean by the word “foot” on different occasion: one of the lower extremities of the human body, a measure of verse, the ground about a tree, twelve inches, - the floor in front of the stairs. The same is true of nearly every common noun or verb... considering the number of ways of taking a particular word, the tusk of speaking clearly and being understood would seem pretty hopeless if it were not for another very important fact about language. Though a word may have many senses, these senses can be controlled, up to a point, by the context in which the word is used. When we find the word in a particular verbal setting we can usually decide quite definitely which of the many senses of the word relevant. If a poet says his verse has feet, it doesn’t occur to you that he could mean it’s a yard long or is three legged (unless perhaps you are a critic planning to puncture the poet with a pun about his “lumping verse”). The context rules out these maverick senses quite decisively.

The incomparable gift of brain, with its truly amazing powers of abstraction, has rendered obsolete the slow and sometimes clumsy mechanisms utilized by evolution so far. Thanks to the brain alone, man, in the course of three generations only, has con4uered the realm of air, while it took hundreds of thousands of years for animals to achieve the same result through the process of evolution. Thanks to the brain alone, the range of our sensory organs has been increased a million fold, far beyond the wildest dreams, we have brought the moon within thirty miles of us, we see the infinitely small and see the infinitely remote, we hear the inaudible, we have dwarfed distance and killed physical time. We have succeeded in understanding them thoroughly. We have put to shame the tedious and time consuming methods
of trial and error used by Nature, because Nature has finally succeeded in producing its masterpieces in the shape of the human brain. But the great laws of evolution are still active, even though adaptation has lost its importance as far as we are concerned. We are now responsible for the progress of evolution. We are free to destroy ourselves if we misunderstand the meaning and the purpose of our victories. And we are free to forge ahead, to prolong evolution, to cooperate with God if we perceive the meaning of it all, if we realize that it can only be achieved through a whole-hearted effort toward moral and spiritual development. Our freedom, of which we may be justly proud, affords us the proof that we represent the spearhead of evolution: but it is up to us to demonstrate, by the way in which we use it, whether we are ready yet to assume the tremendous responsibility which has befallen us almost suddenly.

The touring companies had set up their stages, when playing for towns-folk and not for the nobility in the large inn yards where the crowd could sit or stand around the platform and the superior patrons could seat themselves in the galleries outside the bedrooms of the inn. The London theatres more or less reproduced this setting, though they were usually round or oval in shape and stage was more than a mere platform, having entrances at each side, a curtained inner stage and an upper stage or balcony. For imaginative Poetic drama this type of stage had many advantages. There was no scenery to be changed, the dramatist could move freely and swiftly from place to place. Having only words at his command, be had to use his imagination and compel his audience to use theirs. The play could move at great speed. Even with such limited evidence as we possess, it is not hard to believe that the Elizabethan audience, attending a poetic tragedy or comedy, found in the theatre an imaginative experience of a richness and intensity that we cannot discover in our own drama.

The Greatest” civilization before ours was the Greek. They, too, lived in a dangerous world. They were a little, highly civilized people, surrounded by barbarous tribes and always threatened by the greatest Asian power, Persia. In the end they succumbed, but the reason they did was not that the enemies outside were so strong, but that their spiritual strength had given way. While they had it, they kept Greece unconquered. Basic to all Greek achievements was freedom. The Athenians were the only free people in the world. In the great empires of antiquity — Egypt, Babylon, Assyria, Persia — splended though they were, with riches and immense power, freedom was unknown. The idea of it was born in Greece, and with it Greece was able to prevail against all the manpower and wealth arrayed against her. At Marathon and at Salamis overwhelming numbers of Persians were defeated by small Greek forces. It was proved there that one free man was superior to many submissively obedient subjects of a tyrant. And Athens, where freedom was the dearest possession, was the leader in those amazing victories. Greece rose to the very height, not because she was big, she was very small, not because she was rich, she was very poor, not even because she was wonderfully gifted. So doubtless were others in the great empires of the ancient world who have gone their way leaving little for us. She rose because there was in the Greeks the greatest spirit that moves in humanity, the spirit that sets men free.”

Not all the rulers signed the Instrument of Accession at once. Afraid that the Socialist Congress Party would strip him of his amusements, flying, dancing girls and conjuring delights which he had only just begun to indulge since he had only recently succeeded his father to the throne, the young Maharajah of Jodhpur arranged a meeting with Jinnah. Jinnah was aware that both Hindu majority and geographical location meant that most of the Princely states would go to India, but he was gratified by the thought that he might be able to snatch one or two from under Patel ‘s nose. He gave Jodhpur a blank sheet of paper.
‘Write your conditions on that’ he said, 'and I’ll sign it’ Elated, the Maharajab returned to his hotel to consider. It was an unfortunate- move on his part, for V. P. Menon was there waiting for him. Menon’s agents had alerted him to what Jodhpur was up to. He told the young ruler that his presence was requested urgently at viceroy’s House, and reluctantly the young man accompanied him there. The urgent summons had been an excuse, and once they had arrived, Menon had to go on a frantic search for Viceroy, and tell him what had happened. Mountbatten responded immediately. He solemnly reminded Jodhpur that Jinnah could not guarantee any conditions he might make, and that accession to Pakistan would spell disaster for his state. At the same time, he assured him that accession to India would flot automatically mean end of his pleasure. Mountbatten left him alone with Menon to sign a provisional agreement.

Generally, European trains still stop at borders to change locomotives and staff. This is often necessary. The German and French voltage systems are incompatible. Spain — though not Portugal — has a broad guage track. English bridges are lower than elsewhere, and passengers on German trains would need a ladder to reach French platforms, twice as high as their own. But those physical constraints pale in comparison to an even more formidable barrier — national chauvinism. While officials in Brussels strive for an integrated and efficiently run rail network to relieve the Continent’s gorged roads and airways, and cut down on pollution, three member countries —France, Germany and Italy—are working feverishly to develop their own expensive and mutually incompatible high-speed trains.

Throughout the ages of human development men have been subject to miseries of two kinds: those imposed by external nature, and, those that human beings misguidedly inflicted upon each other. At first, by far the worst evils were those that were due to the environment. Man was a rare species, whose survival was precarious. Without the agility of the monkey, without any coating of fur, he has difficulty in escaping from wild beasts, and in most parts of the world could not endure the winter’s cold. He had only two biological advantages: the upright posture freed his hands, and
intelligence enabled him to transmit experience. Gradually these two advantages gave him supremacy. The numbers of the human species increased beyond those of any other large mammals. But nature could still assert her power by means of flood and famine an pestilence and by exacting from the great majority of mankind incessant toil in the securing of daily bread.

In our own day our bondage to external nature is fast diminishing, as a result of the growth of scientific intelligence. Famines and pestilence still occur, but we know-better, year by year, what should be done to prevent them. Hard work is still necessary, but only because we are unwise: given peace and co-operation, we could subsist on a very moderate amount of toil. With existing
technique, we can, whenever we choose to exercise wisdom, be free of many ancient- forms -of bondage to external nature.

But the evils that men inflict upon each other have not diminished in the same degree. There are still wars, oppressions, and hideous cruelties, and greedy men still snatch wealth from those who are less skilful or less ruthless than themselves. Love of power still leads to vast tyrannies, or to mere obstruction when its grosser forms are impossible. And fear-deep - scarcely conscious fear — is still the dominant motive in very many lives. -

The best aid to give is intellectual aid, a gift of useful knowledge. A gift of knowledge is infinitely preferable to a gift of material things. There are many reasons for this. Nothing becomes truly one’s own except on the basis of some genuine effort or sacrifice. A gift of material goods can be appropriated by the recipient without effort or sacrifice; it therefore rarely becomes his own and is all too frequently and easily treated as a mere windfall. A gift of intellectual goods, a gift of knowledge, is a very different matter. Without a genuine effort of appropriation on the part of the recipient there is no gift. To appropriate the gift and to make it one’s own is the same thing, and ‘neither moth nor rust doth corrupt’. The gift of material goods makes people dependent, but the gift of knowledge makes them free. The gift of knowledge also has far more lasting effects and is far more closely relevant to the concept of ‘development.’ Give a man a fish, as the saying goes, and you are helping him a little bit for a very short time, teach him the act of fishing, and he can help himself all his life. further, if you teach him to make his own fishing net, you have helped him to become not only self-supporting, but also self-reliant and independent, man and businessman.
This, then should become the ever-increasing preoccupation of aid-programmes to make men self-reliant and independent by the generous supply of the appropriate intellectual gifts, gifts of relevant knowledge on the methods of self-help. This approach, incidentally, has also the advantage of being relatively cheap, of making money go a long way. For POUNDS 100/ - you may be able to equip one man with certain means of production, hut for the same money you may well be able to teach and hundred men to equip themselves. Perhaps a little ‘pumppriming’ by way of material goods will in some cases, be helpful to speed the process of development.
(E. F. Schumacher)

“Education does not develop autonomously: it tends to be a mirror of society and is seldom at the cutting edge of social change. It is retrospective, even conservative, since it teaches the young what others have experienced and discovered-about the world. The future of education will be shaped not by educators, but by changes in demography, technology and the family. Its ends - to prepare students to live and work in their society - are likely to remain stable, but its means are likely to change dramatically”.

“Schools, colleges and universities will be redefined in fundamental ways: who is educated, how they are educated, where they are educated - all are due for upheaval. B Ut their primary responsibility will be much the same as it is now: to teach knowledge of languages, science, history, government, economics, geography, mathematics and the arts, as well as the skills necessary to understand today’s problems and to use its technologies. In the decades ahead, there will be a solid consensus that, as Horace Mann, an American educator, wrote in 1846, “Intelligence is a primary ingredient in the wealth of nations”. In recognition of the power of this idea, education will be directed purposefully to develop intelligence as a vital national resource”.

“Even as nations recognize the value of education in creating human capital, the institutions that provide education will come under increasing strain. State systems of education may not survive demographic and technological change. Political upheavals in unstable regions and the case of international travel will ensure a steady flow of immigrants, legal and illegal, from poor nations to rich ones. As tides of immigration sweep across the rich world, the receiving nations have a choice: they can assimilate the newcomers to the home culture, or they can expect a proliferation of cultures within their borders. Early this century, state systems assimilated newcomers and taught them how to fit in. Today social science frowns on assimilation, seeing it as a form of cultural coercion, so state systems of education are likely to eschew cultural imposition. In effect, the state schools may encourage trends that raise doubts about the purpose or necessity of a state system of education”. (Diane Ravieh).

When you see a cockroach or a bed-hug your first reaction is one of disgust and that is immediately, followed by a desire to exterminate the offensive creature. Later, in the garden, you see a butterfly or a dragonfly, and you are filled with admiration at its beauty and grace. Man’s feelings towards insects are ambivalent. He realizes that some of them for example, - flies and cockroaches arc threats to health. Mosquitoes and tsetse flies have in the past sapped the vitality of entire tribes or nations. Other insects are destructive and cause enormous losses. Such arc locusts, which can wipe out whole areas of crops in minutes; and termites, whose often insidious ravages, unless checked at an early stage, can end in the destructing of entire rows –of houses.

Yet men’s ways of living may undergo radical changes if certain species of insects were to become extinct. Bees, for example, pollinate the flowers of many plants which are food sources. In the past, honey was the only sweetening agent known to man in some remote parts of the world. Ants, although they bite and contaminate man’s food are useful scavengers which consume waste material that would otherwise pollute the environment. Entomologists who have studied insect fossils believe them to have inhabited the earth for nearly 400 million years. Insects live in large numbers almost everywhere in the world, from the hottest deserts and the deepest caves to the peaks of-high mountains and even the snows of the polar caps.

Some insect communities are complex in organizations, prompting men to believe that they possess an ordered intelligence. But such organized behaviour is clearly not due to - developed brains. If we have to compare them to humans, bee and ant groups behave like extreme totalitarian societies. Each bee or ant seems to have a determined role to play instinctively and does so without deviation. The word “instinct” is often applied to insect behaviour. But some insect behaviour appears so clear that one tends to think that some sort of intelligenceis at work. For example, the worker bee, upon relating to the hive after having found a new source of nectar, communicates his discovery by a kind of dance which tells other bees the direction and distance away of the nectar.

Along with the new revelations of science and psychology there have also occurred distortions of what is being discovered. -Most of the scientists and psychologists have accepted Darwin’s theory of evolution and his observations on “survival of the fittest” as a final word. While enunciating his-postulate on the concept of the fittest, Darwin primarily projected physical force as the main criterion, and remained unmindful of the culture of mind, The psychologist, on the other hand, in his exclusive involvement with the psyche, has overlooked the potential of man’s physical-self and the world outside him. No synthesis has been attempted between the two with the obvious result of the one being sacrificed at the altar of the other. This has given birth to a civilisation which is wholly based on economic considerations, transforming man into a mere “economic being” and limiting, his pleasures and sorrows to sensuous cravings. With the force of his craft and guns, this man of the modern world gave birth to two cannibalistic philosophies, the cunning capitalism and the callous communism. They joined hands to block the evolution of man as a cultural entity, denuding him of the feelings of love, sympathy, and humanness. Technologically, man is immensely powerful; culturally, he is the creature ‘of stoneage, as lustful as ever, and equally ignorant of his destiny. The two world wars and the resultant attitudes display harrowing distortion of the purposes of life and power. In this agonizing situation the Scientist is harnessing forces of nature, placing them at the feet of his country’s leaders, to be used against people in other parts of the world. This state of his servility makes the functions of the scientist appear merely to push humanity to a state of perpetual fear, and lead man to the inevitable destruction as a species with his own inventions and achievements. This irrational situation raises many questions. They concern the role of a scientist, the function of religion, the conduct of politician who is directing the course of history, and the future role of man as a species. There is an obvious mutilation of the purpose of creation, and the relationship .between Cosmos, Life, and Man is hidden from eyes; they have not been viewed collectively.

Exploration in the Arctic Circle still offers countless opportunities for fresh discoveries, but it is an adventure which is not to be undertaken lightly. As an occupation it is more lonely and remote than anything else in the world and at any moment the traveler must be prepared to encounter hazard and difficulty which call for all his skill and enterprise. Nevertheless such exploration will be carried as long as there are investigated areas to attract the daring and as long as the quest for knowledge inspires mankind.

Investigations have shown that the Arctic zone is rich in mineral deposits, but even if these deposits were themselves of little value, the economic importance of the Arctic would not be appreciably lessened. For it is generally agreed that «weather is made in the North», and as the success or failure of the harvests all over the world is largely determined by the weather, it follows that agriculture and all those industrial and commercial activities dependent upon it must be considerably affected by the accuracy of the daily weather reports. Modern meteorologists regard the conditions prevailing in the Arctic as of first-rate importance in helping them to arrive at accurate results in their forecasts.

Yet quite apart from any economic or other practical considerations, there is a strange fascination about this vast unconquered region of stern northern beauty. Those who have once entered the vast polar regions like to speak of their inexpressible beauty, the charm of the yellow sun and dazzling ice packs, the everlasting snows and unmapped land where one never knows what lies ahead; it may be a gigantic glacier, which reflects a beam of sunlight over its frozen expanse or some wonderful fantastically shaped cliff which makes an unfading impression on the memory. It may even be an iceberg stately and terrifying, moving on its relentless way, for the Arctic; is the birthplace of the great icebergs which threaten navigation.

Lying is indeed an accursed vice. We are men, and we have relations with one another only by speech. If we recognized the horror and gravity of an untruth, we should more justifiably punish it with fire than any other crime. I commonly find people taking the most ill-advised pains to correct their children for their harmless faults, and worrying them about heedless acts which leave no trace and have no consequences. Lying - and in a lesser degree obstinacy - are, in my opinion, the only faults whose birth and progress we should consistently oppose. They grow with a child's growth, and once the tongue has got the knack of lying, it is difficult to imagine how impossible it is to correct it. Whence it happens that we find some otherwise excellent men subject to this fault and enslaved by it. I have a decent lad as my tailor, whom I have never heard to utter a single truth, even when it would have been to his advantage. If, like the truth, falsehood had only one face, we should know better where we are, for we should then take the opposite of what a liar said to be the truth. But the opposite of a truth has a hundred thousand shapes and a limitless field.

The Pythagoreans regard good as certain and finite, and evil as boundless and uncertain. There are a thousand ways of missing the bull's eye, only one of hitting it. I am by no means sure that I could induce myself to tell a brazen and deliberate lie even to protect myself from the most obvious and extreme danger. St Augustine said that we are better off in the company of a dog we know than in that of a man whose language we do not understand. Therefore, those of different nations do not regard one another as men and how much less friendly is false speech than silence.

To have faith in the dignity and worth of the individual man as an end in himself, to believe that it is better to be governed by persuasion than by coercion, to believe that fraternal goodwill is more worthy than a selfish and contentions spirit, to believe that in the long run all values are inseparable from the love of truth and the disinterested search for it, to believe that knowledge and the power it confers should be used to promote the welfare and happiness of all men, rather than to serve the interests of those individual and classes whom fortune and intelligence endow with temporary advantage – these are the values which are affirmed by the traditional democratic ideology. The case of democracy is that it accepts the rational and humane values as ends and proposes as the means of realizing them the minimum of coercion and the maximum of voluntary assent. We may well abandon the cosmological temple in which the democratic ideology originally enshrined these values, without renouncing the faith it was designed to celebrate. The essence of that faith is belief in the capacity of man, as a rational and humane creature to achieve the good life by rational and humane means. The Chief virtue of democracy and the sole reason for cherishing it is that with all its faults it still provides the most favourable conditions for achieving that end by those means.

Besant describing the middle class of the 9th century wrote " In the first place it was for more a class apart. "In no sense did it belong to society. Men in professions of any kind (except in the Army and Navy) could only belong to society by right of birth and family connections; men in trade—bankers were still accounted tradesmen—could not possibly belong to society. That is to say, if they went to live in the country they were not called upon by the county families and in the town they were not admitted by the men into their clubs, or by ladies into their houses… The middle class knew its own place, respected itself, made its own society for itself, and cheerfully accorded to rank the deference due."

Since then, however, the life of the middle classes had undergone great changes as their numbers had swelled and their influence had increased.

Their already well –developed consciousness of their own importance had deepened. More critical than they had been in the past of certain aspects of aristocratic life, they wee also more concerned with the plight of the poor and the importance of their own values of society, thrift, hand work, piety and respectability thrift, hand work, piety and respectability as examples of ideal behavior for the guidance of the lower orders. Above all they were respectable. There were divergences of opinion as to what exactly was respectable and what was not. There were, nevertheless, certain conventions, which were universally recognized: wild and drunker behaviors were certainly not respectable, nor were godlessness or avert promiscuity, not an ill-ordered home life, unconventional manners, self-indulgence or flamboyant clothes and personal adornments.

It was not from want of perceiving the beauty of external nature but from the different way of perceiving it, that the early Greeks did not turn their genius to portray, either in colour or in poetry, the outlines, the hues, and contrasts of all fair valley, and hold cliffs, and golden moons, and rosy lawns which their beautiful country affords in lavish abundance.

Primitive people never so far as I know, enjoy when is called the picturesque in nature, wild forests, beetling cliffs, reaches of Alpine snow are with them great hindrances to human intercourse, and difficulties in the way of agriculture. They are furthermore the homes of the enemies of mankind, of the eagle, the wolf, or the tiger, and are most dangerous in times of earthquake or tempest. Hence the grand and striking features of nature are at first looked upon with fear and dislike.

I do not suppose that Greeks different in the respect from other people, except that the frequent occurrence of mountains and forests made agriculture peculiarly difficult and intercourse scanty, thus increasing their dislike for the apparently reckless waste in nature. We have even in Homer a similar feeling as regards the sea, --- the sea that proved the source of all their wealth and the condition of most of their greatness. Before they had learned all this, they called it “the unvintagable sea” and looked upon its shore as merely so much waste land. We can, therefore, easily understand, how in the first beginning of Greek art, the representation of wild landscape would find no place, whereas, fruitful fields did not suggest themselves as more than the ordinary background. Art in those days was struggling with material nature to which it felt a certain antagonism.

There was nothing in the social circumstances of the Greeks to produce any revolution in this attitude during their greatest days. The Greek republics were small towns where the pressure of the city life was not felt. But as soon as the days of the Greeks republics were over, the men began to congregate for imperial purposes into Antioch, or Alexandria, or lastly into Rome, than we seek the effect of noise and dust and smoke and turmoil breaking out into the natural longing for rural rest and retirement so that from Alexander’s day …… We find all kinds of authors --- epic poets, lyricist, novelists and preachers --- agreeing in the precise of nature, its rich colours, and its varied sounds. Mohaffy: Rambles in Greece

'The official name of our species is homo sapiens; but there are many anthropologists who prefer to think of man as homo Fabcr-thc smith, the maker of tools It would be possible. I think, to reconcile these two definitions in a third. If man is a knower and an efficient doer, it is only because he is also a talker In order to be Faber and Sapiens, Homo must first be loquax, the loquacious one. Without language we should merely be hairless chimpanzees. Indeed which should be some thing much worse. Possessed of a high IQ but no language, we should be like the Yahoos of Gulliver's Travels- Creatures too clever to be guided by instinct, too Self-centered to live in a state of animal grace, and therefore condemned forever, frustrated and malignant, between contented apehood and aspiring'humanity. It was language that made possible the accumulation of knowledge and the broadcasting of information. It was language that permitted the expression of religious insight, the formulation of ethical ideals, the codification to laws, It was language, in a word, that turned us into human beings and gave birth to civilization.

If then a practical end must be assigned to a University course, I say it is that of training good members of a society. Its ah is the art of social life, and its end is fitness for the world. It neither confines its views to particular professions on the one hand, not creates heroes or inspires genius on the other. Works indeed of genius fall under no art; heroic minds come under no rule; a University is not a birthplace of poets or of immortal authors, of founders of schools, leaders of colonies, or conquerors of nations. It does not promise a generation of Aristotle or Newtons of Napoleons or Washingtons of Raphaels or Shakespearcs though such miracles of nature it has before now contained within its precincts. Nor is it content on the other hand with forming the critic or the experimentalist, the economist or the engineer, through such too it includes within its scope. But a University training is the great ordinary means to a great ordinary end; it aims at raising the intellectual tone of society, at cultivating the public mind, at purifying the national taste, at supplying true principles to popular aspirations. It is the education which gives a man a clear conscious view of his own opinions and judgments, a truth in developing them, an eloquence in expressing them, and a force in urging them, ft teaches him to sec things as they arc, to go right to the point, to disentangle a skein of thought, to detect what is sophistical and to - discard what is irrelevant. It prepares him to fill any post with credit, and to master any subject with facility. (John H. Ncwman)

We're dealing with a very dramatic and very fundamental paradigm shift here. You may try" to lubricate your' social interactions with personality techniques and skills, but in the process, you may truncate the vital character base. You can't have the fruits without the roots. It's the principle of sequencing: Private victory precedes Public Victory. Self-mastery and self-discipline are the foundation of good relationship with others. Some people say that you have to like yourself before you can like others. I think' that idea has merit but if you don't know yourself, if you don't control yourself, if you don't have mastery over yourself, it's very hard to like yourself, except in some short-term, psych-up, superficial way. Real self-respect comes from dominion over*self from true independence. Independence is an achievement. Inter dependence is a choice only independent people can make. Unless we are willing to achieve real independence, it's foolish to try to develop human relations skills. We might try. We might even have some degree of success when the sun is shining. But when the difficult times come - and they will - We won't have the foundation to keep things together. The most important ingredient we put into any relationship is not what we say or what we do, but what we are. And if our words and our actions come from superficial human relations techniques (the Personality Ethic) rather than from our own inner core (the character Ethic), others will sense that duplicity. We simply won't be able to create and sustain the foundation necessary" for effective interdependence. The techniques and skills that really make a difference in human interaction are the ones that almost naturally flow from a truly independent character. So the place to begin building any relationship is inside ourselves, inside our Circle of Influence, our own character. As we become independent - Proactive, centered in correct principles, value driven and able to organize and execute around the priorities in our life with integrity - we then can choose to become interdependent - capable of building rich, enduring, highly productive relationships with other people.

Basically, psychoses and neuroses represent man’s inability to maintain a balanced or equated polarity in conducting his life. The ego becomes exclusively or decidedly one sided. In psychoses there is a complete collapse of the ego back into the inner recesses of the personal and collective unconsciouses. When he is repressed toward fulfilling some life goal and where he is further unable to sublimate himself toward another goal, man regresses into goal structures not actually acceptable to himself or to the society. Strong emotional sickness of the psychotic type is like having the shadow run wild. The entire psyche regresses to archaic, animal forms of behaviors. In less severe forms of emotional sickness there may be an accentuated and overpowering use of one of the four mental functions at the expense of the other three. Either thinking, feeling, intuiting or seeing may assume such a superior role as to render the other three inoperative. The persona may become so dominant as to create a totally one-sided ego, as in some forms of neurotic behavior. All in all, whatever the type of severity of the emotional disorder, it can be taken as a failure of the psyche to maintain a proper balance between the polarities of life. Essentially, psychoses and neuroses are an alienation of the self from its true goal of self actualization. In this sense the culture is of no consequence. Emotional disorder is not a question of being out of tune with one’s culture so much as it is of being out of tune with one’s self. Consequently, neurosis is more than bizarre behavior, especially as it may be interpreted by contemporaries in the culture. This interpretation avoids the sociological question of what is a mental disorder, since form of behavior which is acceptable in one culture may be considered neurotic in other culture. To Jung, the deviation from cultural norms is not the point. The inability to balance out personal polarities is.

It was not so in Greece, where philosophers professed less, and undertook more. Parmenides pondered nebulously over the mystery of knowledge; but the pre-Socratics kept their eyes with fair consistency upon the firm earth, and sought to ferret out its secrets by observation and experience, rather than to create it by exuding dialectic; there were not many introverts among the Greeks. Picture Democritus, the Laughing Philosopher; would he not be perilous company for the dessicated scholastics who have made the disputes about the reality of the external world take the place of medieval discourses on the number of angles that could sit on the point of a pin? Picture Thales, who met the challenge that philosophers were numskulls by “cornering the market” and making a fortune in a year. Picture Anaxagoras, who did the work of Darwin for the Greeks and turned Pericles form a wire-pulling politician into a thinker and a statesman, Picture old Socrates, unafraid of the sun or the stars, gaily corrupting young men and overturning governments; what would he have done to these bespectacled seedless philosophasters who now litter the court of the once great Queen? To Plato, as to these virile predecessors, epistemology was but the vestibule of philosophy, akin to the preliminaries of love; it was pleasant enough for a while, but it was far from the creative consummation that drew wisdom’s lover on. Here and there in the shorter dialogues, the Master dallied amorously with the problems of perception, thought, and knowledge; but in his more spacious moments he spread his vision over larger fields, built himself ideal states and brooded over the nature and destiny of man. And finally in Aristotle philosophy was honoured in all her boundless scope and majesty; all her mansions were explored and made beautiful with order; here every problem found a place and every science brought its toll to wisdom. These men knew that the function of philosophy was not to bury herself in the obscure retreats of epistemology, but to come forth bravely into every realm of inquiry, and gather up all knowledge for the coordination and illumination of human character and human life.

The author of a work of imagination is trying to effect us wholly, as human beings, whether he knows it or not; and we are affected by it, as human beings, whether we intend to be or not. I suppose that everything we eat has some effect upon us than merely the pleasure of taste and mastication; it affects us during the process of assimilation and digestion; and I believe that exactly the same is true of any thing we read.
The fact that what we read does not concern merely something called our literary taste, but that it affects directly, though only amongst many other influences , the whole of what we are, is best elicited , I think, by a conscientious examination of the history of our individual literary education. Consider the adolescent reading of any person with some literary sensibility. Everyone, I believe, who is at all sensible to the seductions of poetry, can remember some moment in youth when he or she was completely carried away by the work of one poet. Very likely he was carried away by several poets, one after the other. The reason for this passing infatuation is not merely that our sensibility to poetry is keener in adolescence than in maturity. What happens is a kind of inundation, or invasion of the undeveloped personality, the empty (swept and garnished) room, by the stronger personality of the poet. The same thing may happen at a later age to persons who have not done much reading. One author takes complete possession of us for a time; then another, and finally they begin to affect each other in our mind. We weigh one against another; we see that each has qualities absent from others, and qualities incompatible with the qualities of others: we begin to be, in fact, critical: and it is our growing critical power which protects us from excessive possession by anyone literary personality. The good critic- and we should all try to critics, and not leave criticism to the fellows who write reviews in the papers- is the man who, to a keen and abiding sensibility, joins wide and increasingly discriminating. Wide reading is not valuable as a kind of hoarding, and the accumulation of knowledge or what sometimes is meant by the term ‘a well-stocked mind.’ It is valuable because in the process of being affected by one powerful personality after another, we cease to be dominated by anyone, or by any small number. The very different views of life, cohabiting in our minds, affect each other, and our own personality asserts itself and gives each a place in some arrangement peculiar to our self.

Objectives pursued by, organizations should be directed to the satisfaction of demands resulting from the wants of mankind. Therefore, the determination of appropriate objectives for organized activity must be preceded by an effort to determine precisely what their wants are. Industrial organizations conduct market studies to learn what consumer goods should be produced. City Commissions make surveys to ascertain what civic projects would be of most benefit. Highway Commissions conduct traffic counts to learn what constructive programmes should be undertaken. Organizations come into being as a means for creating and exchanging utility. Their success is dependent upon the appropriateness of the series of acts contributed to the system. The majority of these acts is purposeful, that is, they are directed to the accomplishment of some objectives. These acts are physical in nature and find purposeful employment in the alteration of the physical environment. As a result utility is created, which, through the process of distribution, makes it possible for the cooperative system to endure.

Before the Industrial Revolution most cooperative activity was accomplished in small owner managed enterprises, usually with a single decision maker and simple organizational objectives. Increased technology and the growth of industrial organization made necessary the establishment of a hierarchy of objectives. This is turn, required a division of the management function until today a hierarchy of decision makers exists in most organizations.

The effective pursuit of appropriate objectives contributes directly to organizational efficiency. As used here, efficiency is a measure of the want satisfying power of the cooperative system as a whole. Thus efficiency is the summation of utilities received from the organization divided by the utilities given to the organization, as subjectively evaluated by each contributor.

The functions of the management process is the delineation of organizational objectives and the coordination of activity towards the accomplishment of these objectives. The system of coordinated activities must be maintained so that each contributor, including the manager, gains more than he contributes.

From Plato to Tolstoi art has been accused of exciting our emotions and thus of disturbing the order and harmony of our moral life.” Poetical imagination, according to Plato, waters our experience of lust and anger, of desire and pain, and makes them grow when they ought to starve with drought. “Tolstoi sees in art a source of infection. “Not only in infection,” he says, “a sign of art , but the degree of infectiousness is also the sole measure of excellence in art.” But the flaw in this theory is obvious. Tolstoi suppresses a fundamental moment of art, the moment of form. The aesthetic experience – the experience of contemplation- is a different state of mind from the coolness of our theoretical and the sobriety of our moral judgment. It is filled with the liveliest energies of passion, but passion itself is here transformed both in its nature and in its meaning. Wordsworth defines poetry as “ emotion recollected in tranquility’. But the tranquility we feel in great poetry is not that of recollection. The emotions aroused by the poet do not belong to a remote past. They are “ here”- alive and immediate. We are aware of their full strength, but this strength tends in a new direction. It is rather seen than immediately felt. Our passions are no longer dark and impenetrable powers; they become, as it were, transparent. Shakespeare never gives us an aesthetic theory. He does not speculate about the nature of art. Yet in the only passage in which he speaks of the character and functions of dramatic art the whole stress is laid upon this point. “ The purpose of playing,” as Hamlet explains, “ both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as, twere, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time, his form and pressure.” But the image of the passion is not the passion itself. The poet who represents a passion doest not infected us with this passion. At a Shakespeare play we are not infected with the ambition of Macbeth, with the cruelty of Richard III or with the jealously of Othello. We are not at the mercy of these emotions; we look through them; we seem to penetrate into their very nature and essence. In this respect Shakespeare’s theory of dramatic art, if he had such a theory, is in complete agreement with the conception of the fine arts of the great painters and sculptors.

Of all the characteristics of ordinary human nature envy is the most unfortunate; not only does the envious person wish to inflict misfortune and do so whenever he can with impunity, but he is also himself rendered unhappy by envy. Instead of deriving pleasure from what he has, he derives pain from what others have. If he can, he deprives others of their advantages, which to him is as desirable as it would be to secure the same advantages himself. If this passion is allowed to run riot it becomes fatal to all excellence, and even the most useful exercise of exceptional skill. Why should a medical man go to see his patients in a car when the labourer has to walk to his work? Why should the scientific investigator be allowed to spend his time in a warm room when others have to face the inclemency of the elements? Why should a man who possesses some rare talent of great importance to the world be saved from he drudgery of his own housework? To such questions envy finds no answer. Fortunately, however, there is in human nature a compensating passion, namely that of admiration. Whosoever wishes to increase human happiness must wish to increase admiration and to diminish envy. What cure is there for envy? For the saint there is the cure of selflessness, though even in the case of saint’s envy of other saints is by no means impossible. But, leaving saints out of account, the only cure of envy in the case of ordinary men and women is happiness, and the difficulty is that envy is itself a terrible obstacle to happiness. But the envious man may say: 'what is the good of telling me that the cure of envy is happiness? I cannot find happiness while I continue to feel envy, and you tell me that I cannot cease to be envious until I find happiness.' but real life is never so logical as this. Merely to realize the cause of one's own envious feeling is to take a long step towards curing them.

The Psychological causes of unhappiness, it is clear, are many and various. But all have something in common. The typical unhappy man is one who having been deprived in youth of some normal satisfaction, has come to value this one kind of satisfaction more than any other, and has, therefore, given to his life a one-sided direction, together with a quite undue emphasis upon the achievement as opposed to the activities connected with it. There is, however, a further development which is very common in the present day. A man may feel so completely thwarted that he seeks no form of satisfaction, but only distraction and oblivion. He then becomes a devotee of “Pleasure”. That is to say, he seeks to make life bearable by becoming less alive. Drunkenness, for example, is temporary suicide; the happiness that it brings is merely negative, a momentary cessation of unhappiness. The narcissist and the megalomaniac believe that happiness is possible, though they may adopt mistaken means of achieving it; but the man who seeks intoxication, in whatever form, has given up hope except in oblivion. In his case the first thing to be done is to persuade him that happiness is desirable. Men, who are unhappy, like men who sleep badly, are always proud of the fact. Perhaps their pride is like that of the fox who had lost his tail; if so, the way to cure it is to point out to them how they can grow a new tail. Very few men, I believe, will deliberately choose unhappiness if they see a way of being happy. I do not deny that such men exist, but they are not sufficiently numerous to be important. It is common in our day, as it has been in many other periods of the world’s history, to suppose that those among us who are wise have seen through all the enthusiasms of earlier times and have become aware that there is nothing left to live for. The man who hold this view are genuinely unhappy, but they are proud of their unhappiness, which they attribute to the nature of the universe and consider to be the only rational attitude for an enlightened man. Their pride in their unhappiness makes less sophisticated people suspicious of its genuineness; they think that the man who enjoys being miserable is not miserable.

One of the most ominous and discreditable symptoms of the want of candour in present-day sociology is the deliberate neglect of the population question. It is or should be transparently clear that if the State is resolved, on humanitarian grounds, to inhibit the operation of natural selection, some rational regulation of population, both as regards quantity and quality, is imperatively necessary. There is no self-acting adjustment, apart from starvation, of numbers to the means of subsistence. If all natural checks are removed, a population in advance of the optimum number will be produced, and maintained at the cost of a reduction in the standard of living. When this pressure begins to be felt, that section of the population which is capable of reflection, and which has a standard of living which may be lost, will voluntarily restrict its numbers, even to the point of failing to replace deaths by an equivalent number of new births; while the underworld, which always exists in every civilised society the failures and misfits and derelicts, moral and physical will exercise no restraint, and will be a constantly increasing drain upon the national resources. The population will thus be recruited, in a very undue proportion, by those strata of society which do not possess the qualities of useful citizens.

The importance of the problem would seem to be sufficiently obvious. But politicians know that the subject is unpopular. The unborn have no votes. Employers like a surplus of labour, which can be drawn upon when trade is good. Militarists want as much food for powder as they can get. Revolutionists instinctively oppose any real remedy for social evils; they know that every unwanted child is a potential insurgent. All three can appeal to a quasi-religious prejudice, resting apparently on the ancient theory of natural rights, which were supposed to include the right of unlimited procreation. This objection is now chiefly urged by celibate or childless priests; but it is held with such fanatical vehemence that the fear of losing the votes which they control is a welcome excuse for the baser sort of politician to shelve the subject as inopportune. The Socialist calculation is probably erroneous; for experience has shown that it is aspiration, not desperation, that makes revolutions.

Culture, in human societies, has two main aspects; an external, formal aspect and an inner, ideological aspect. The external forms of culture, social or artistic, are merely an organized expression of its inner ideological aspect, and both are an inherent component of a given social structure. They are changed or modified when this structure. They are changed and modified when this structure is changed or modified and because of this organic link they also help and influence such changes in their parent organism. Cultural Problems, therefore, cannot be studied or understood or solved in isolation from social problems, i.e. problems of political and economic relationships. The cultural problems of the underdeveloped countries, therefore, have to be understood and solved in the light of larger perspective, in the context of underlying social problems. Very broadly speaking, these problems are primarily the problems of arrested growth; they originate primarily from long years of imperialist-Colonialist domination and the remnants of a backward outmoded social structure. This should not require much elaboration European Imperialism caught up with the countries of Asia, Africa or Latin America between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries. Some of them were fairly developed feudal societies with ancient traditions of advanced feudal culture. Others had yet to progress beyond primitive pastoral tribalism. Social and cultural development of them all was frozen at the point of their political subjugation and remained frozen until the coming of political independence. The culture of these ancient feudal societies, in spite of much technical and intellectual excellence, was restricted to a small privileged class and rarely intermingled with the parallel unsophisticated folk culture of the general masses. Primitive tribal culture, in spite of its child like beauty, had little intellectual content. Both feudal and tribal societies living contagiously in the same homelands were constantly engaged in tribal, racial and religious or other feuds with their tribal and feudal rivals. Colonialist – imperialist domination accentuated this dual fragmentation, the vertical division among different tribal and national groups, the horizontal division among different classes within the same tribal or national groups. This is the basic ground structure, social and cultural, bequeathed to the newly liberated countries by their former over lords.

Probably the only protection for contemporary man is to discover how to use his intelligence in the service of love and kindness. The training of human intelligence must include the simultaneous development of the empathic capacity. Only in this way can intelligence be made an instrument of social morality and responsibility — and thereby increase the chances of survival.

The need to produce human beings with trained morally sensitive intelligence is essentially a challenge to educators and educational institutions. Traditionally, the realm of social morality was left to religion and the churches as guardians or custodians. But their failure to fulfill this responsibility and their yielding to the seductive lures of the men of wealth and! pomp and power and documented by the history of the last two thousand years and have now resulted in the irrelevant “God Is Dead” theological rhetoric The more pragmatic men of power have had no time or inclination to deal with the fundamental problems of social morality. For them simplistic Machiavellianism must remain the guiding principle of their decisions-power is morality, morality is power. This oversimplification increases the chances of nuclear devastation. We must therefore hope that educators and educational institutions have the capacity, the commitment and the time to instill moral sensitivity as an integral part of the complex pattern of function human intelligence. Some way must be found in the training of human beings to give them the assurance to love, the security to be kind. and the integrity required for a functional empathy.

In studding the breakdowns of civilizations, the writer has subscribed to the conclusion – no new discovery! – that war has proved to have been the proximate cause of the breakdown of every civilization which is known for certain to have broken down, in so far as it has been possible to analyze the nature of these breakdowns and to account for their occurrence. Like other evils war has no insidious way of appearing not intolerable until it has secured such a stranglehold upon the lives of its addicts that they no longer have the power to escape from its grip when its deadlines has become manifest. In the early stages of civilization’s growth, the cost of wars in suffering and destruction might seem to be exceeded by the benefits occurring from the wining of wealth and power and the cultivation of the “military virtues” ; and, in this phase of history, states have often found themselves able to indulge in war with one another with something like impunity even for the defeated party. War does not begin to reveal its malignity till the war making society has begun to increase its economic ability to exploit physical nature and its political ability to organize manpower; but, as soon as this happens, the god of war to which the growing society has long since been dedicated proves himself a Moloch by devouring an ever larger share of the increasing fruits of man’s industry and intelligence in the process of taking an ever larger toll of life and happiness; and, when the society’s growth in efficiency reaches a point at which it becomes capable of mobilizing a lethal quantum of its energies and resources for military use then war reveals itself as being a cancer which is bound to prove fatal to its victim unless he can cut it out and cast it from him, since its malignant tissues have now learnt to grow faster that the healthy tissues on which they feed.

In the past when this danger-point in the history of the relations between war and civilization has been reached and recognized, serious efforts have sometimes been made to get rid of war in time to save society, and these endeavours have been apt to take one or other of two alternative directions. Salvation cannot, of course, be sought anywhere except in the working of the consciences of individual human beings; but individuals have a choice between trying to achieve their aims through direct action as private citizens and trying to achieve then through indirect action as citizen of states. Personal refusal to lend himself in any way to any war waged by his state for any purpose and in any circumstances is a line of attack against the institution of war that is likely to appeal to an ardent and self-sacrificing nature; by comparison, the alternative peace strategy of seeking to persuade and accustom governments to combine in jointly resisting aggression when it comes and in trying to remove its stimuli before hand may seem a circuitous and unheroic line of attack on the problem. Yet experience up to date indicates unmistakably, in the present writer’s opinion, that the second of these two hard roads is by far the more promising.
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