Soul
When tasked with questions pertaining to our world and lives, modern science and belief state that the only thing we can accept as “real” is what is proved through advanced scientific theory. Anyone seeking an answer to a larger meaning or analysis of humanity's instincts and intentions is usually written off. Oftentimes, philosophy is viewed, and has even been viewed by myself at times, as a never-ending cycle of thought that cannot be “proven.” Leading people to more fear, and feeling worse about the world and its people. But if we took a moment to reflect on exactly how we perceive each other, What would we find? If we did not bind our knowledge or understanding of another person based on what we are supposed to believe, would we see them differently? Would we see the world differently? To do this, we must look into each other's eyes with the same intensity we study our textbooks with. Starting to question things we believe we know, people we are told are hateful, places we hear are drab, ideas we are told are stupid. New conclusions will arise entirely, thinking deeply and with empathy about the people around us, will bring us to conclusions just as powerful as those of modern science.
Not often, in my education, have I come across selected pieces that evoke the feeling of Micheal de Montaigne's essay, “How we weep and laugh at the same thing.” This work had me frozen with thought, as well as filled with a certain sense of relief. Montaigne writes of Antigonus, a Macedonian Greek general and a successor of Alexander the Great. Automatically, I assume that the story will be of war, greed, and power. What he goes on to describe is, in a way, a war, I suppose, the fight after the swords have been drawn. A war where you cannot see the bullets or spears whizzing through the sky, or hear the cries of a defeated army. A quiet war, the war of the human being. Antigonus exhibits great dissatisfaction when his son brings him the head of his mortal enemy, King Pyrrhus, who was killed in a battle against him. In a jarring second line, Montaigne describes how the General wept, seeing the slain face of the man he had most loathed and spent his entire lifetime fighting against.
Montaigne continues giving examples of tough, strong, fighting men, being completely and utterly tormented by the deaths and defeats of the people they most despised. He even goes as far as to note the powerful Caesar, saying, “When they presented Caesar with the head of Pompey, our historians say that he turned his gaze away from a spectacle both ugly and displeasing.”(Montaignene 262). However, at the time, he adds, poets and regular folk alike disregard these individuals' actions, time after time agreeing that these feelings or emotions are acts made of pity, insincerity, and a sort of mockery. A man who fights is harsh and cruel inside; a woman who cries is childlike and somber. Montaigne poses questions regarding actions and ways of being which are interrupted as forthright, to emphasize the great range of the human being.
And yest Antigonus weeps. The powerful and stoic Macedonian general is remembered and regarded for his harsh battles and incredible command, regarded as a fighter for empires. And yet he weeps. How and why could this be? “Conflicting emotions,” Montaigne says, “diverse emotions,” he continues. Emotions, not one or two describing a human and their ways, multiple, hundreds, thousands, not one the same, separate, and yet just as much equally intertwined as the next. An easy answer is available and often utilized when it comes to interpreting human emotions. People who seem sad experience mostly sad emotions, people we see as fearful feel only great fear, and those we view as dominantly hateful are filled to the brim with hate. This, as suggested by Montaigne, and in my own strong agreement, is not the truth of humankind and its people. Being a human, as Montaigne helps us to uncover, is defined by so many things, including the quiet, unseen tears that fall slowly and abruptly, laughter, fear, the shaking and the trembling coming from the most powerful and stoic of men. These instances are what define us as a breed entirely. “Nevertheless, its victory is not so complete that the weaker ones do not sometimes regain lost ground because of the pliancy and mutability of our soul and make a brief sally in their turn.”(Montaigne 263).
I suppose at this point, I am expected to provide scientific evidence and logical and respected reasoning that supports my claims to be true. In which I have none. This is not to say I do not believe in science; I believe in science completely, but I also believe in the realness of humanity and the world completely. In 1963, Hannah Arendt, a historian and philosopher, published “The Conquest of Space and the Stature of Man.” More than 400 years following the ideas presented by Montaigne, Arendt poses views that go hand in hand with Montaigne's view of Human emotion. Arendt proposes that in a new age of innovation and thinking, the ideas behind Montaigne's work may even be more cast aside than before. “Modern science…is no longer to augment and order human experiences; it is much rather to discover what lies behind natural phenomena, as they reveal themselves to the senses and the mind of man.”(Arendt 261). She furthered he very important point that certain questions can not be given absolute and definite answers. Although there are many instances when finding a definition or concrete answer is applicable, human emotion, thought, and being are not one of those instances. Arendt argues these notions are even considered prescientific by definition. “Whether they come from the lumen of philosophers or scientists, they can never be demonstrably true or false. Their truth resembles the validity of agreements rather than the compelling validity of scientific statements.”(Arendt 262).
How would things be different if we thought in this way? If we take Arendt's and Montaigne's points to heart. What would happen if we viewed others differently? If we consider a man who is seemingly consumed by competition, hate, and greed, and yet his soul is not completely blackened by the actions of his life. That a “villain” has a father and mother, with a genetic makeup not vastly different from our own. That they came into the world just as we did, have laughed and sang, cried, and loved. Whether it is conscious or not, whether it can be “proved” as “real” by science or the great minds of the world, humans have souls. Souls that are powerful enough to kill and hurt, and even more powerful to cry and mourn. At the core of Montaigne's point, Antigonus sees his slain enemy, and against all of the things he could see, he sees himself, he sees his son, and all of the people he has loved, or never got to. Empathy is at the center of the soul, even the souls that have been most darkened.
Works Cited
Arendt, Hannah . “The Conquest of Space and the Stature of Man.” American Scholar, American Scholar, 1963, www.thenewatlantis.com/publications/the-conquest-of-space-and-the-stature-of-man.
Montaigne , Micheal. “How We Weep and Laugh at the Same Thing.” 1580. How We Weep and Laugh at the Same Thing, by Micheal Montaigne, New York, 1991.