World Order/Series2/Volume 13/Issue 2/Text

←Issue 1

World Order, Series 2 Volume 13 - Issue 2

Issue 3→

Return to PDF view Proofread once

[Page -1]

Winter 1978-79

World Order

Attacks on the Bahá’ís in Iran

Editorial

Bahá’u’lláh’s Prison Sentence:

The Official Account

Theory of Evil

Robert Hayden

Work and the Economic Problem

Hoda Mahmoudi

Alain Locke’s Social Philosophy

Ernest D. Mason

Some Aspects of the Bahá’í Expressive Style

Alessandro Bausani

[Page 0]

World Order

A BAHÁ’Í MAGAZINE • VOLUME 13, NUMBER 2 • PUBLISHED QUARTERLY

WORLD ORDER IS INTENDED TO STIMULATE, INSPIRE AND SERVE THINKING PEOPLE IN THEIR SEARCH TO FIND RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN CONTEMPORARY LIFE AND CONTEMPORARY RELIGIOUS TEACHINGS AND PHILOSOPHY

Editorial Board:

FIRUZ KAZEMZADEH

BETTY J. FISHER

HOWARD GAREY

ROBERT HAYDEN

GLENFORD E. MITCHELL

WORLD ORDER is published quarterly, October, January, April, and July, at 415 Linden Avenue, Wilmette, Illinois 60091. Subscriber and business correspondence and changes of address should be sent to this address. Manuscripts and other editorial correspondence should be addressed to 2011 Yale Station, New Haven, Connecticut 06520.

The views expressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the publisher, the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States, or of the Editorial Board. Manuscripts should be typewritten and double spaced throughout, with the footnotes at the end. The contributor should keep a carbon copy. Return postage should be included.

Subscription rates: USA, 1 year, $6.00; 2 years, $11.00; single copies, $1.60. All other countries, 1 year, $7.00; 2 years, $13.00; single copes $1.60.

Copyright © 1979, National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States, World Rights Reserved. Printed in the U.S.A.

ISSN 0043-8804

IN THIS ISSUE

1 Attacks on the Bahá’ís in Iran

Editorial

6 Interchange: Letters from and to the Editor

11 Bahá’u’lláh’s Prison Sentence: The Official

Account, translated by Kazem

Kazemzadeh and Firuz Kazemzadeh

14 Stanislaus

a poem by Mary Hedin

16 Work and the Economic Problem

by Hoda Mahmoudi

23 Theory of Evil

a poem by Robert Hayden

25 Alain Locke’s Social Philosophy

by Ernest D. Mason

36 Some Aspects of the Bahá’í Expressive Style

by Alessandro Bausani

45 The Importance of Meditation to Faith

by David M. Goodman

51 Remembering Some Early Bahá’ís

book review by Firuz Kazemzadeh

Inside back cover: Authors and Artists

in This Issue

[Page 1]

Attacks on the Bahá’ís in Iran

THE RECENT MOB ATTACKS on Bahá’ís in Iran have once again called attention to the status of the Bahá’í Faith in the land of its origin. In cities, towns, and villages—among them Iṣfahán, Fathábád, Arák, Sangsar, Nayríz, Sarvistán—over three hundred private homes and dozens of shops and business enterprises have been looted, burned down, or otherwise destroyed. In Iṣfahán a clinic that belonged to Bahá’ís was dynamited. Elsewhere, orchards were seized, and farmers deprived of their means of livelihood. A number of Bahá’í centers have been demolished or burned to the ground. Bahá’í communities have been terrorized, individuals and families beaten, and, in some instances, driven to the mosques and forced to recant their faith.

Many find it difficult to understand why members of a religious minority dedicated to tolerance, peace, and universal brotherhood arouse hatred in those among whom they live. The reasons for the persecutions, the hatred, and the violence lie deep in the sociopsychological structure of Persian society and go back more than a century to the year 1844, when a young merchant of Shíráz, later known as the Báb, founded a new religion whose followers rejected the literal interpretation of the Koran and held that soon “He Whom God Shall Make ManifeSt” would appear on earth to bring a new Law and to inaugurate a new era in the history of mankind. In nineteenth-century Iran, where even the notion of religious liberty did not exist, the teachings of the Báb were bound to produce a violent reaction. Accused of heresy, the Báb was imprisoned for several years and finally executed in 1850. This did not stop the spread of the Báb’s teachings, nor did it stop the resistance of his disciples who defended themselves with great valor against attacks by the united forces of the clergy and the government. There ensued a campaign of extermination in which some twenty thousand Bábís were killed. The cruelty of the suppression, the indiscriminate massacre of women and children, the tortures inflicted upon masses of innocent people have been eloquently described both by participants and outside observers, among the latter Comte de Gobineau and Edward G. Browne. The bloodshed left a legacy of suspicion, fear, and pain.

Thirteen years after the martyrdom of the Báb, One of His leading disciples who had been exiled to Baghdad by the Persian government proclaimed Himself to be the One Whose advent the Báb had prophesied. He became known as Bahá’u’lláh. Most of the Báb’s followers accepted Bahá’u’lláh’s claim and became known as Bahá’ís. Over the next forty years Bahá’u’lláh produced a vast number of works that today constitute the scripture of the religion He founded. He taught the unity of mankind [Page 2] and the equality of races and nations. He taught the unity of religions and universal peace. He proclaimed the harmony of religion and science, the need for universal education, and the equality of sexes. He also established the essential principles for the life and operation of a worldwide community of His followers who would govern themselves through elective bodies, would have no clergy, and would be dedicated to the common intereSts of all mankind.

The authorities, both religious and secular, kept Bahá’u’lláh in confinement and exile for forty years. Feeling threatened by ideas that challenged the outworn formulas they had mouthed for hundreds of years, Muslim clergy continued to demand the extermination of the Bahá’ís, whom they always called “heretics” and “harmful misleaders.” The Bahá’ís were turned into the scapegoats of Iranian society. As their numbers increased, they became an even more attractive target for demagogic attacks by those who wanted to distract the public or create turmoil. Since the Bahá’ís emphasized education and placed high value on work, they achieved a relatively high standard of living, which made them promising targets of pogroms. Last but not least, the tolerant and peaceful nature of the Bahá’í community made it possible to attack Bahá’ís without fear of violent retaliation.

In moments of national stress, during famines, revolutions, and invasions of the country, Bahá’ís could be blamed for the nation’s miseries. If one did not wish to pay a debt, one could accuse the creditor of being a Bahá’í. If an epidemic spread through a province, one could blame the Bahá’ís. Bahá’í ideals of world unity could be twisted to appear as a lack of patriotism. Bahá’í acceptance of the truth inherent in all great religions of mankind could be interpreted as a betrayal of Islam.

When in 1896 Náṣiri’d-Dín Sháh was assassinated by a Pan-Islamist terrorist, the Bahá’ís were immediately accused of that deed. In the brief but violent persecution that followed, several Bahá’ís lost their lives. In 1903 more than a hundred Bahá’ís were massacred in Yazd. “In that city,” history records, “Hájí Mírzáy-i-Ḥalabí-Sáz was so mercilessly flogged that his wife flung herself upon his body, and was in her turn severely beaten, after which his skull was lacerated by the cleaver of a butcher. His eleven-year-old son was pitilessly thrashed, stabbed with “penknives and tortured to death. . . . A crowd of about six thousand people, of both sexes, vented their fury upon the helpless victims, a few going so far as to drink their blood.”

The outbreak of the revolution in 1906 precipitated new attacks on the Bahá’ís all over Iran, with particularly bloody episodes taking place in Sirján, Dúghábád, Tabríz, Qum, Najafábád, Sangsar, Shahmírzád, Iṣfahán, Jahrum, Mashhad, Kirmánsháh, and Hamadán. As the constitutional movement developed, “the reactionaries brought groundless accusations against the Bahá’ís, and publicly denounced them as supporters and inspirers of the nationalist cause.” In the chaotic conditions of World War I and its aftermath, Bahá’ís once again suffered scattered attacks in various parts of the country.

During the 1930s attacks on the Bahá’ís were less numerous and less [Page 3] violent. However, the pressure against them was never entirely relaxed. Bahá’í schools were closed; Bahá’í marriages were refused recognition; Bahá’í literature was banned; gatherings were prohibited; Bahá’ís in government service were frequently dismissed from their jobs; nurses and doctors were fired from hospitals; teachers were refused employment. Occasionally, here and there, a Bahá’í was murdered. This pattern continued through World War II and the immediate post-war period.

A large-scale attack on the Bahá’í community was launched in the month of Ramaḍán, 1955. At one of Ṭihrán’s mosques, Shaykh Muḥammad Taqí Falsafí, a fanatical mullá, daily urged his flock to rise up against the “false religion.” He accused the Bahá’ís of being enemies of Islam and called, for severe measures against them. The mullá was permitted to preach his incendiary sermons over government radio. The effect of the broadcasts was immediate. Old suspicions were revived. Every invention ever made to discredit a religious minority was now thrown at the Bahá’ís.

On May 2 the police locked the gates of the Bahá’í National Headquarters in Ṭihrán, and five days later the building was taken over by the army. On May 17 the Minister of the Interior proclaimed in the Parliament that the “Bahá’í sect” had been banned. A contemporary report describes what ensued:

This was followed by an orgy of senseless murder, rape, pillage, and destruction the like of which has not been recorded in modern times. The dome of the Ḥaẓíratu’l-Quds (National Center) in Ṭihrán was demolished; the House of the Báb was twice desecrated and severely damaged; Bahá’u’lláh’s ancestral home in Tákur was occupied; the house of the Báb’s uncle was razed to the ground; shops and farms were plundered; crops burned; livestock destroyed; bodies of Bahá’ís disinterred in the cemeteries and mutilated; private homes broken into, damaged and looted; adults execrated and beaten; young women abducted and forced to marry Muslims; children mocked, reviled, beaten and expelled from schools; boycott by butchers and bakers was imposed on hapless villagers; young girls were raped; families murdered; government employees dismissed and all manner of pressure brought upon the believers to recant their Faith.

A worldwide campaign of publicity, expressions of sympathy for the Bahá’ís on the part of outstanding individuals in Europe, Asia, and the Americas, and appeals to the United Nations resulted in some relief to the Bahá’ís of Iran. However, it took several years for passions to abate and for normalcy to return. Since then Bahá’ís have continued to live under pressure in the way forced upon them by the circumstances of history.

Though the Bahá’ís are the largest religious minority in Iran, their existence is not officially recognized and, unlike other minorities such as the Christians, the Jews, and the Zoroastrians, they enjoy no specific human rights. Being in their vast majority ethnic Iranians, speaking Persian or Ádhirbáyjání, they are no foreign element, but a part of the Iranian nation to which they have always been loyal. It is only the medieval intolerance of certain fanatical elements that strives to set them apart [Page 4] from their Muslim brothers and fellow citizens. Being nonpolitical, law abiding, and opposed to all violence, they constitute no threat to anyone; yet they have been the most frequently persecuted group in the nation. The current outbreaks of persecutions are only an episode in the long history of cruel and senseless oppression with which the Bahá’ís have been afflicted.

[Page 5]

1955: Iranian army chiefs participating in the destruction of the Bahá’í National Center building in Teheran (above). Workers being supervised by a mullah in the same act of destruction.

[Page 6]

Interchange LETTERS FROM AND TO THE EDITOR

ALAIN LOCKE, a celebrated Afro-American Bahá’í scholar, has been the object of renewed attention recently. A National Endowment for the Humanities Summer Seminar, devoted to his contributions to American philosophy, was held on the campus of Atlanta University from June 12 to August 4, 1978. His relations with such contemporaries as W. E. B. DuBois, Charles S. Johnson, and Horace M. Kallen, as well as with Booker T. Washington, Langston Hughes, and others, were explored —but the principal emphasis fell on Locke’s own thought.

To understand Locke’s achievement in the essay that best expresses his emphasis on the relativity of values as the key to the study of man (“Values and Imperatives” in American Philosophy Today and Tomorrow, ed. Sidney Hook and Horace Meyer Kallen [New York: Lee Furman, 1935]) one must compare the philosophical tradition of his social milieu with his personal transformations. From his reworking of the rationalism of Santayana, the empiricism of James, the idealism of Royce, and the American humanist and liberal traditions, there emerges a distinctively Bahá’í epistemology, metaphysics, and anthropology in which the real diversity of peoples and cultures is seen in its relationship to a single human reality.

Locke credits the Bahá’í Faith for having done much to invalidate the traditional “Anglo-conformity,” the monocultural value system and anthropology that until recently dominated Western thought. He was directly committed to the fulfillment of the Bahá’í mandate of perfecting human nature, creating new men, and establishing productive modes of existing and relating to those who differ from oneself.

We are indebted to Ernest D. Mason for this information and happily recommend his article on Alain Locke in this issue of WORLD ORDER.

* * *

The Editors would like to apologize for an oversight in the Fall 1978 issue. Dr. Howard Garey provided the excellent translation of Jacques Chouleur’s “The God of Bahá’u’lláh,” a fact which should have been noted under the byline of the article.

To the Editor

THE SOCIAL PRINCIPLE

Only recently did I have the opportunity to read Horace Holley’s article on “The Social Principle” in your Fall 1977 issue. I would like to make the statement that it is one of the most amazing and most remarkable compositions I have read in my lifetime.

When first taking it to hand I did not quite know what to expect. In reading it it struck me that under the heading “social principle” so much was to be said about the individual.

Here was a man who, as a Bahá’í, talked about failure—about failure of the individual in society—who analyzed possibilities and reasons for failure and who, having done this, placed those possibilities, reasons, and conditions into a much larger perspective where [Page 7] suddenly the real underlying cause of the disease becomes, if not apparent, yet dimly visible.

For a Bahá’í, who is always encouraged by his fellow Bahá’ís to be radiant and happy, there may on certain occasions be comfort in the knowledge that there are some reasons around for individuals being unhappy—be they Bahá’í individuals or other. Only when clearly understood can hidden sources of unhappiness lose their power over us. And as Horace Holley points out, there may be reasons which are connected with the relation of the individual to society—i.e. with types of individuals in a given society of a given era— thus bringing in historical implications as well.

This may seem a somewhat idiosyncratic approach to what Horace Holley wrote. I mainly wanted to convey that I found his article stimulating, thought provoking, and highly relevant.

I was at first wondering why Horace Holley had not listed the teacher, the educator, as a distinct human type playing a necessary role under all circumstances. In the meantime I think I have found the answer: The qualities needed for teaching and educating are not the qualities of any one distinct human type at all —educating is part of human life just as breathing and speaking. So all the types can be and should be educators, each in his way and each in his field.

KLAUS KRIEGER

Augsburg, West Germany

A WORD ABOUT PAUL

Professor Hatcher’s review of Udo Schaefer’s The Light Shineth in Darkness (Summer 1978) was lucid, fair, and insightful—no mean accomplishment when dealing with so complicated and potentially controversial a subject. His helpful suggestions for the improvement of Herr Schaefer’s presentation of Bahá’í Christology were detailed and highly germane, and his defense of the Gospel of John quite in order. Several years ago, when I was studying the New Testament at Northwestern with Edmund Perry, the latter pointed out that the Gospel according to John has stylistic affinities with some of the Qumrán literature. The reasons given for dating John late have always been that it exhibits Greek influence, and Professor Perry argued that if these supposedly Greek motifs are in fact Jewish, and can be documented in Jewish literature for two hundred years before Christ, then there is no reason to suppose that the Gospel according to John is any later than the Synoptic gospels. The common presumption among modern biblical scholars of the greater age and the superior authenticity of Mark’s Gospel might thus be wholly unwarranted.

On pages 37-38 and note 5, Prof. Hatcher discusses the Bahá’í attitude toward Paul and his writings. I personally think that Bahá’ís should avoid taking too simplistic an approach to this matter. There is a considerable body of Jewish and Muslim polemical literature against Paul, in which he is charged with irreparably ruining Christianity by introducing such doctrines as the divinity of Christ, the redemption, the necessity for blood-sacrifice, and the Trinity. Mr. Schaefer, I believe, draws rather too heavily on this literature, much of which is based on doctrinal assumptions at variance with those of the Bahá’í Faith. If one remembers that no such concept as “the three persons of the Trinity” can be found in Paul’s writings, and that the Letter to the Hebrews, with its emphasis on blood sacrifice (e.g., 9:22), is not attributable to Paul, some of the traditional charges against him are weakened. The doctrine of sacrificial redemption is scriptural (John 4:16), and if dissociated from the Augustinian doctrine of original sin is wholly [Page 8] in accord with Bahá’í teachings. Paul’s views on the divinity and Sonship of Christ are easier for Bahá’ís to accept than Jews and Sunní Muslims, and it is clear that Paul only thought of Christ as theomorphic, but not in any sense identical or equal to God (Phil. 2:6).

I am not arguing that Paul should be taken as a scriptural authority for Bahá’ís, merely that he should be respected as a great mystic and early Christian theologian. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá Himself has written that “One’s conduct must be like the conduct of Paul and one’s faith similar to that of Peter.” (Selections from the Writings of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá [Haifa, 1978], pp. 223-24). Bahá’u’lláh refers to Paul as ‘Ḥaḍrat-i-Búlus-i-Qadís’ (His Holiness Saint Paul) in the Epistle to the Son of the Wolf (Wilmette, 1971, p. 91), and quotes Romans 13:1-2 to Shaykh Muḥammad Taqíy-i-Najafí as though it bore some authority. This passage is also quoted by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in His Risáliy-i-Siyásiyyih (Ṭihrán, 91 B.E., p. 16), and the latter often quoted or paraphrased Pauline verses when addressing Western audiences.

In short, while Bahá’ís may not believe that everything Paul wrote was inspired by Christ, we can be sure that any Pauline verses referred to in Bahá’í Writings were so inspired. Some Bahá’ís have suggested to me that Paul was a covenant-breaker in the same way that Muḥammad ‘Alí, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s half-brother, was. I think the references to him in Bahá’í scripture are such as to make this suggestion entirely untenable. These references also cast serious doubt on the charges made by Prof. Hatcher and Mr. Schaefer that Paul was a “usurper” who undermined Peter’s authority. If Paul’s own testimony is reliable, his “mission to the gentiles” was blessed by Peter, as well as James and John (Gal. 2:9). Paul no doubt showed little tact in his dispute with Peter about the permissibility of associating with uncircumcised Gentiles, and the need to observe Jewish food laws; but in the long run, Peter came round to Paul’s way of thinking on all but a few points (Acts 10, 15). It is anachronistic for Bahá’ís to project back into Peter and Paul’s day the idea of a strict covenant with its attendant implications of unquestionable authority. To assert the primacy of Peter is not to assert that he always acted correctly (John 18:25-27) or that he had an infallible authority which should never have been challenged. On the question of circumcision and the food laws, he obviously took a wrong position for a time.

Incidentally, I commend WORLD ORDER for another excellent issue, with essays of high quality on the philosophy of religion, theology, the history of early journalism on the Bahá’í Faith, in addition to a memoir of Gibran and poetry. Where else could we find such a banquet?

JUAN RICARDO COLE

Sterling, Virginia

[Page 9]

[Page 10]

[Page 11]

Bahá’u’lláh’s Prison Sentence: The Official Account

TRANSLATED BY KAZEM KAZEMZADEH AND FIRUZ KAZEMZADEH WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY FIRUZ KAZEMZADEH

ON THE 15TH OF AUGUST 1852 Ṣádiq-i-Tabrízí (or Zanjání) and Mullá Fatḥu’lláh-i-Qumí, two Bábís, made an attempt to assassinate Náṣirid-Dín Sháh. Their motive was revenge for the execution of the Báb and the massacre of thousands of their coreligionists. The two young men were not prominent or even well-known among the Bábís, and their desperate act was undertaken on their own initiative. The recognized leaders of the Bábí community were neither aware of the plot nor did they condone the deed.

Ṣádiq, “an assistant in a confectioner’s shop,” and Fatḥu’lláh, his accomplice, were inexperienced in handling weapons. They loaded a pistol with birdshot and discharged it at Náṣirid-Dín Sháh as he rode past them through the gate of the Níyávarán palace. Though the Sháh was hit, the wound was superficial. In his magnificent history of the first century of the Faith, Shoghi Effendi thus describes the consequences of the attempted assassination:

No sooner had this act been perpetrated than its shadow fell across the entire body of the Bábí community. A storm of public horror, disgust and resentment . . . swept the nation, casting aside all possibility of even the most elementary inquiry into the origins and the instigators of the attempt. A sign, a whisper, was sufficient to implicate the innocent and loose upon him the most abominable afflictions. An army of foes—ecclesiastics, state officials and people, united in relentless hate, and watching for an opportunity to discredit and annihilate a dreaded adversary—had, at long last, been afforded the pretext for which it was longing.

There ensued a reign of terror in which thousands of Bábís, including most of their leaders, were martyred. The brutality and cruelty inflicted upon them have been recounted many times by Bábís as well as by foreign observers. Even Qájár court historians did not try to conceal the inhuman, the barbaric punishment visited upon many for an act committed by two. However, few contemporary documents make the nature of the persecution clearer than does a simple notice that appeared in the official Ṭihrán gazette Vaqáyi-yi Ittifáqíyyih. The newspaper minced no words and described in some detail the tortures inflicted on a number of Bábís in the capital. The text, which is published here for the first time in an English translation, speaks for itself. Its opening paragraph, however, will attract particular attention, for it says without any pretence that though Mírzá Ḥusayn ‘Alí-yi Núrí, known as Bahá’u’lláh, and at least three others had been found not to have participated in any intrigues or conspiracies, Náṣirid-Dín Sháh condemned them to life imprisonment. Ṭihrán’s official gazette was unaware of the deadly irony of its statement that those proven innocent were given a life term.

The history of the Bahá’í Faith is rich in suffering. The excerpt printed below brings to the reader in vivid relief through the eyes of enemies an important episode in that history.

F.K.

[Page 12] An excerpt from the Vaqáyi-yi Ittifáqíyyih, No. 82, an official Ṭihrán newspaper, of the 10th Ḍíq’adih 1268 A.H. (26 August 1852)

ALL THE PEOPLE, including the ‘ulamá and the scholars, and the servants of the Court of the Firmament [of the Sháh], and the subjects and the slaves, and the low and the high, and the young and the old, and the nobles and the commoners, found the execution of these misguided seditionists necessary. Toward six of them, including the following individuals, they acted thus: Mírzá Ḥusayn-i Qumí, who was innocent, was held for interrogation. Mírzá Ḥusayn ‘Alí-yi Núrí [Bahá’u’lláh], and Mírzá Sulaymán Qulí, and Mírzá Maḥmúd, the latter’s nephew; and Áqá ‘Abdu’lláh, Áqá Muḥammad Ja’far’s son; and Mírzá Javád-i Khurásání, not having been shown by the investigation to have participated in these intrigues and conspiracies, His Imperial Majesty commanded that they be imprisoned for life, while the others were divided among the ‘ulamá, the scholars, the servants of the Sháh’s court, and all the inhabitants of the city, that is merchants, artisans, and pedlars. Upon each of them [the Bábís] a group from the estate of servants or subjects inflicted deserved punishment in the following fashion:

Mullá Shaykh ‘Alí, who was the head and chief of this misguided group, who considered himself a special deputy of the Báb, who gave himself the title of Ḥaḍrat-i ‘Azím, and who was the source, the initiator, the author, and the cause of this great sedition, was condemned to death by the ‘ulamá and the scholars in accord with the commands of the purest Sharíat [religious law] and received from them what he deserved.

Siyyid Ḥasan-i Khurásání, one of the criminals and followers of that sect, was killed by the princes with blows of sword, bullet, knife, and dagger.

Muqarrabu’l Kháqán Mustawfíu’l- Mamálik first, out of religious zeal and his own fervor, shot Mullá Zaynu’l-Ábidín-i Yazdí with a pistol, and then the honorable accountants and noble military recruiters cut him into small pieces by means of the pistol, the knife, the dagger, and the short sword.

Mullá Ḥusayn-i Khurásání was executed by Muqarrabu’l Kháqán Mírzá Káẓim Khán-i Nizámu’l Mulk and Mírzá Saíd Khán, Minister of Foreign Affairs. First Nizámu’l Mulk shot him with a pistol. The next shot was fired by Mírzá Saíd Khán, and after that the subordinates of these two persons gave him his due with stones, short swords, knives, and daggers.

When Mírzá ‘Abdu’l-Vahháb-i Shírází, known as Káẓimayní, who had lived a long time in Káẓimayn and had, as a follower of that sect, provoked much trouble, was brought in, one of the reliable and trustworthy ‘ulamá who happened to be present testified that he had invited him in Káẓimayn in the evenings, but he would not accept his invitations but talked nonsense. Mírzá ‘Abdu’l-Vahháb was among the twelve persons who had come to Níyávarán and committed the crime. Their Excellencies Ja’far Qulí Khán, brother of His Excellency the Prime Minister, and Ḍulfaqár Khán, and Músá Khán, and Mírzá ‘Alí Khán, sons of the above mentioned Excellency, and other relatives and cousins, and the entire body of riflemen, and the servants [of high officials] tore him to pieces with gun and pistol shots, and short swords, and swords, and sent him to hell.

Mullá Fatḥu’lláh-i Qumí, son of Mullá ‘Alí the bookbinder, a few pellets from whose pistol had grazed the blessed body [the Sháh], had candles inserted into his body and ignited at the august Camp. Muqarrabu’l Kháqán Ḥájibu’d-Dawlih shot him with bird shot in the same spot in which he had shot His Imperial Majesty. He instantly fell, and other servants cut him to pieces with short swords, [Page 13] and pelted him with stones.

With pistol shots and blows of the sword Kháns and Amírs of the August Court sent to hell Shaykh ‘Abbás-i Ṭihrání. Muḥammad Báqir-i Najafábádí, who was among those twelve [who had conspired against the Sháh] and who had himself confessed that he had participated in all the battles of the misguided Bábí gang, was killed with daggers, short swords, and knife blows by the personal servants of His Majesty and by all the servants of the [royal] harem.

Muqarrabu’l Kháqán ‘As’adu’lláh Khán, Master of the Horse, and other workers of the royal stables, first nailed horseshoes to the feet of Muḥammad Taqí-yi Shírází, and then by means of hammers, iron rods, spikes, short swords, and daggers sent him to his friends [i.e., to join those who had already been killed]. Muqarrabu’l Kháqán the Master of Ceremonies [Ishík Áqásí Báshí], the Senior Herald [Járchí Báshí], and the Chief Overseer of Punishments [Nasaqchí Báshí] and their lieutenants and chiefs and other servants of the court of Níyávarán with blows of the dervish’s ax, the mace, etc., dispatched to the depths of hell Muḥammad-i Najafábádí.

Muqarrabu’l Kháqán, Chief of the Watch, commanders of hundreds and their servants and attendants, aimed their guns at and shot Mírzá Muḥammad-i Nayrízí, a participant in all the Bábí wars in Nayríz, Zanján, and Mázandarán, whose body carried many old battle scars. Thereafter they leveled his body with the ground with sticks and stones.

Mortarmen first gouged out an eye of Mullá Muḥammad-‘Alí-yi Najafábádí, then tied him to the muzzle of the mortar and fired. Áqá Ḥasan, lieutenant of the guard, brought to the city Ḥájí Sulaymán Khán— son of Yaḥyá Khán-i Tabrízí who was mentioned above—together with Ḥájí Qásim-i Nayrízí, who was deputy to Siyyid Yaḥyá [Siyyid Yaḥyá-yi Dárábí surnamed Vaḥíd]. Áqá Ḥasan inserted candles in their bodies, lit them, and, to the accompaniment of drums, followed by minstrels and the crowd, led them through the streets and the bazaars, not permitting the people in town to hit them with stones, until beyond the Sháh ‘Abdu’l Azím gate executioners cut their bodies in four parts, hanging them on the four city gates.

Muqarrabu’l Kháqán, the Adjutant-in-Chief, commanders of fifties, generals, and colonels killed Siyyid Ḥusayn-i Yazdí [the Báb’s amanuensis and close companion] with their sabres. The royal guardsmen by means of short swords and daggers killed Áqá Mihdí-yi Káshí, one of the above mentioned twelve.

The body of Ṣádiq-i Zanjání [who had fired at the Sháh], servant of Mullá Shaykh ‘Alí, who had been killed on the first day by the Sháh’s attendants [the day of the attempt on the life of the Sháh], was cut in two and hung on the gates.

Teachers and Students of the Dáru’l Funún [an institution of higher learning] finished off Mírzá Nabí‘-yi Damávandí, an inhabitant of Ṭihrán, with bayonet and sabre strokes.

Cavalrymen with pistols and daggers sent to hell Mírzá Rafí‘-yi Núrí. Canoneers, after shooting Mírzá Maḥmúd-i Qazvíní with a falconet, cut him to pieces with swords.

Soldiers of various regiments made Ḥusayn-i Mílání, which is in the district of Uskú, Whom those heretics named after the valiant Imám, ‘Abá ‘Abdu’lláhu’l Ḥusayn, run the gauntlet, and then pierced his filthy body with bayonets and sent him to hell.

Artillerymen of the Sháh’s retinue exterminated with swords Mullá ‘Abdu’l Karím-i Qazvíní [the Báb’s amanuensis]. His Excellency the Chief of Footmen and the footmen with daggers, knives, sticks, and stones sent Lutf ‘Alí-yi Shírází to his allies [to those already killed]. The inhabitants of the city jointly exterminated Najaf-i Khamsa’í with stones, sticks, knives, daggers, short swords, and fists.

His Excellency Áqá Mihdí Maliku’t-Tujjár and the merchants and artisans jointly sent to hell by means of various weapons Ḥájí Mírzá Jání, merchant of Káshán who had repeatedly recanted [his faith] but on being set free [Page 14] would again mislead simple people.

Muqarrabu’l Kháqán Nasru’lláh Khán and the other workers of the blessed kitchen killed Ḥasan Khamsa’í.

Messers the Qájárs with tempered sabres sent to hell Muḥammad Báqir-i Quhpáyih.

Stanislaus

In the quick morning

a green wind:

the river whitens against

rocks; the leaning

willow threads new light;

dropped leaves spin

on their shadows, like

fish in the crochety

water.

On the other shore rocks

shift in dapple:

a meadow

where certain deer

go pale and peaceful on the known

paths.

Whatever side we are on,

crossing is forbidden.

—Mary Hedin

[Page 15]

[Page 16]

Work and the Economic Problem

BY HODA MAHMOUDI

ALBERT CAMUS has said, “Without work all life goes rotten. But when work is soulless, life stifles and dies.” A perusal of the literature on work shows that work has often been the cause of many hardships, discontents, and revolts, many of which can be traced to the injustices inflicted upon serfs, slaves, and peasants who were forced to work under despotic rulers, chieftains, and feudal lords. The industrial revolution, by breaking down work into its component parts, brought still further problems to the worker, for the compartmentalizing of the facets of a job led to greater inequity and initiated a trend toward the dehumanization of work and of the worker.

Adam Smith’s description of the division of labor in the production of pins illustrates the point:

To take an example, therefore, from a very trifling manufacture; but one in which the division of labor has been very often taken notice of, the trade of the pin-maker; a workman not educated to this business (which the division of labor has rendered a distinct trade), nor acquainted with the use of the machinery employed in it (to the invention of which the same division of labor has probably given occasion), could scarce, perhaps, with his utmost industry, make one pin in a day, and certainly could not make twenty. But in the way in which this business is now carried on, not only the whole work is a peculiar trade, but it is divided into a number of branches, of which the greater part are likewise peculiar trades. One man draws out the wire, another straights it, a third cuts it, a fourth points it, a fifth grinds it at the top for receiving the head; to make the head requires two or three distinct operations; to put it on, is a peculiar business, to whiten the pins is another; it is even a trade by itself to put them into the paper; and the important business of making a pin is, in this manner, divided into about eighteen distinct operations, which, in some manufactories, are all performed by distinct hands, though in others the same man will sometimes perform two or three of them.

As the various parts of one job were broken into smaller and smaller components, the craftsman, who took great pride in his creative skills, was no longer able to survive in his trade. Instead, men, women, and children were forced to seek jobs in factories where they worked under the most detestable conditions for ten to twelve hours a day (sometimes even fourteen, sixteen, or eighteen hours). Work itself became a meaningless and tedious task that often led to fatigue and severe bodily injuries.

Because of the long hours and the significant increase in bodily injuries due to accidents, laws were passed to protect the worker from such abuses. However, very few of the laws or ordinances helped improve the nature of work itself. Thus work continued to be a monotonous, repetitious task performed hour after hour, day after day, year after year without any changes or advantages for most of the workers.

With the introduction of the conveyor belt and eventually the assembly line, work was further broken into its most minute parts. Even though the workers were very strongly opposed to the new system, they soon realized that there was no alternative left for [Page 17] them. Craftsmen were simply unable to make a product as cheaply and as quickly as the conveyor belt or the assembly line; as a result, they had to surrender and become a part of the mechanized system of work.

Of course, these few details describe events of the seventeenth through the nineteenth centuries. But if one narrows the scope somewhat and analyzes work within the United States during the past few decades, some distressing facts become evident. E. L. Richardson has observed, “one cannot help but feel that however deeply we have cared in the past, we never really understood the importance, the meaning, and the reach of work.” Social scientists are now becoming more aware of the fact that a society can hope to maintain an actively producing social system only to the degree that work can become a satisfying experience for the worker in general.

Below I review some of the current difficulties, inequities, and dilemmas related to work and present from a Bahá’í perspective on work some solutions within the world order of Bahá’u’lláh to such problems.

The Problem

WORK, viewed by the individual and society in the proper manner, has a unique function for mankind. Through work an individual can receive the satisfaction that he is contributing to the betterment and advancement of himself, his fellow men, and his society. Yet when work is not viewed in the proper perspective, both the individual and society suffer, for the worker may feel that what he is doing is worthless and that he has no positive goal or direction. Thus the psychological aspects of work play a decisive role in determining how an individual feels about himself, how he relates to society, and how society relates to him.

It is reported that the single best predictor and the most reliable measure of job satisfaction is the response to the question “What type of work would you try to get into if you could start all over again?” The findings show that of the white-collar workers, including professionals, only 43 percent would choose the same line of work that they were engaged in. Among the blue-collar workers only 24 percent would choose the same type of work again. These findings indicate that people in present-day society do wish to work but that they are basically dissatisfied with the kinds of work in which they engage.

The blue-collar worker represents one of the most unfortunate workers in America today. Studies indicate that the repetitive nature and the gloomy atmosphere of his work produce two responses. Some workers become hostile, frustrated, and angry, and carry their feelings home and direct them against their families. Other workers become so apathetic and fatigued from their work that at home they either collapse or resort to watching television, thus having little or no energy for interaction with their families.

Sociologists Stanley E. Seashore and J. Barnowe have concluded that blue-collar workers are dissatisfied to the point that even though they receive adequate pay and job security, they are still unhappy. Seashore and Branowe further state that “The potent factors that impinge on the workers’ values, are those that concern his self-respect, a chance to perform well in his work, a chance for personal achievement and growth in competence, and a chance to contribute something personal and unique to his work.”

Often the dissatisfaction that emerges among blue-collar workers is due to management [Page 18] abuses. For example, one auto worker who experienced difficulties due to the authority structure (management), stated:

I’m a relief man and there’s a lot of jobs I used to relieve that use to be easy, but now they’re hard and sometimes you can’t do everything, you know. And then the foreman comes up there and starts nagging you—you tell him you can’t keep up with it. You can’t keep up with it and he still keeps nagging you and nagging you. And they have a lot of dual supervision out there now, where you got one foreman, your foreman who’s supposed to tell you what to do, and then they got another foreman who cames also and tells you what to do. And that’s not right—it gets confused.

Work in America, a report of the special task force to the Secretary of Health, Education, and Welfare, reports that blue-collar workers also suffer from a number of perplexing social problems:

The ramifications of the low societal view of the worker are extensive and related to the personal problems of workers; low self-esteem, alcoholism, and withdrawal from community affairs. Our interviews with blue-collar workers revealed an almost overwhelming sense of inferiority: the worker cannot talk proudly to his children about his job, and many workers feel that they must apologize for their status. Thus, the working-class home may be permeated with an atmosphere of failure—even of depressing self-degradation. This problem of esteem and identity is, perhaps, related to the recent rise in ethnic consciousness among the working class.

There is little question that some changes in work patterns and in the working environment are necessary in order to resolve major conflicts. Work in America also points out that if steps are not taken toward redesigning work patterns there will, be an increase in industrial sabotage and wildcat strikes that will greatly affect the economic stability of various corporations.

The degree of discontent felt by white-collar workers, including those in positions of authority, such as directors and managers, is even more distressing than that of blue-collar workers. At one time workers in these categories felt that they were removed from routine factory work, but more and more their jobs are becoming just as repetitious, boring, and dehumanizing as those of blue-collar workers. Generally, the bureaucratic environment of the white-collar worker is so impersonal that employers give very little recognition to the individual worker—except when pointing out mistakes and errors. Studies of office employees have indicated that only 55 percent of their potential is realized.

Another study of middle managers revealed other causes of discontent. L. M. Cone, management researcher, has found that:

A general feeling of obsolescence appears to overtake the middle managers when they reach their late 30’s. Their careers appear to have reached a plateau, and they realize that life from here on will be along an inevitable decline. There is a marked increase in the death rate between the ages of 35 and 40 for employed men, apparently as a result of this so-called “mid-life crisis.” The causes of these feelings are often related to questions of technical competence, but much obsolescence is cultural or interpersonal: some older managers cannot cope with the values of younger subordinates; some cannot adjust their sights to radically new organizational goals; and some have become so identified with a faction in the organization that has lost favor over time that they become ineffective.

[Page 19] Women and minorities are two other groups that experience dissatisfaction with work. Statistics are explicit in displaying one of the seeds of discontent of these groups. In 1969 the median income for all adult males in the United States was $6,429. In the same year it was $3,991 for minority males. Yet for employed women it was $2,132; for minority women it was $1,084. These differences reflect the high degree of discrimination and lack of equal opportunity prevalent among these groups.

To be more specific, statistics indicate that women continue to be discriminated against despite new movements that work toward and laws that have been enacted to achieve greater equality. The average woman employee in 1955 earned 64 percent of the wages paid to a man similarly employed. In 1970 a woman received only 59 percent as much as a man similarly employed. Therefore, there appears to be, among a large proportion of the work force in the United States, and at all levels, a definite trend toward more inequality, which inevitably leads toward greater dissatisfaction with jobs.

Max Ways, a member of Fortune magazine’s editorial board, has stated that, “Equality, on its positive side, reflects the desire of individuals to emulate the good life as exemplified by others, to catch up, to improve, to excel, to contribute, to count (and be counted) as responsible actors in their times.” Thus when individuals are prevented from participating and contributing positively to their society, not only do they become alienated and indifferent, but they also experience resentment and belligerence toward society. Such attitudes, products of an unhealthy social system, lead to greater problems.

After conducting a fifteen-year study of aging, Erdman Palmore, a social scientist, concluded that the strongest predictor of longevity was satisfaction with work; the second strongest predicator was overall “happiness.” These two measures are better predictors than a rating by an examining physician of one’s physical functioning, his use of tobacco, and his genetic inheritance. Satisfaction with work is the best predictor above and beyond all of the other predictors that appear so crucial and important to our health.

One’s health can be directly affected by the attitude one holds toward his work. In fact, various studies have found that dissatisfaction with one’s job, low self-esteem, occupational stress, rapid changes in employment, and so on are all factors identified with heart disease. Further, as far as mental health is concerned, the worker’s frustrations, anxieties, tension, and dissatisfaction may result in a great deal of hostility toward others, whether on the job or toward his family, or toward society in general. Work in America reports that studies indicate that there is a number of mental health problems related to the absence of satisfaction with one’s job. These include:

psychosomatic illness, low self-esteem, anxiety, worry, tension, and impaired interpersonal relations. The factors correlating with these problems seem to be: low status, little autonomy, rapid technological change, isolation on the job, role conflict, role ambiguity, responsibility for managing people, shift work, and threats to self-esteem inherent in the appraisal system.

Social scientists and medical doctors generally agree that, in addition to social and physical problems stemming from work, dissatisfaction with a job leads to stress, which in turn may result in alcoholism and drug abuse. Interviews included in Work in America show that a large amount of drugs is used on the job, particularly by assembly-line workers [Page 20] and truck drivers. In 1972 the Special Action Office for Drug Abuse Prevention estimated that in one plant employing 3,400 people, 15 percent were addicted to heroin. One can conclude that workers use alcohol and drugs to escape from the routine and boredom they experience daily in their jobs.

But what is the condition of a society manifesting such devastating social problems in one of its most vital areas? Workers in general are dissatisfied with their jobs and suffer physical and mental consequences. Ethnic minorities and women feel cheated and ignored because they lack equal opportunity to participate in the work force; even when allowed to work, they often experience the stresses and strains of unsatisfying jobs. As jobs are much more repetitious and are divided into their most minute parts, workers feel themselves only a part of the machinery. Gradually, they begin to look at themselves as helpless beings without individual significance or uniqueness in the massive process called work. Serious problems at all levels are the ultimate result.

Where does one start searching for answers? How does one begin to change such a dark and dehumanized social system into a healthy and sound environment?

Emile Durkheim believed that, if properly regulated, division of labor could become a source of solidarity for the industrialized world. He saw anomie, or the state of normlessness in society, emerging as a result of a break between the relevant rules and institutions. Solidarity would result within a society from the interdependence of functions. Sociologist Steven Lukes, has pointed out that:

for Durkheim the economic functions of the division of labor are “trivial in comparison with the moral effect it produces.” By means of it “the individual becomes aware of his dependence upon society; from it comes the forces which keep him in check and restrain him.” When educating a child, it is necessary to get him to like the idea of circumscribed tasks and limited horizons, for in modern society “man is destined to fulfill a special function in the social organism, and consequently, he must learn in advance how to play this role.” The division of labor does not normally degrade the individual by making him into a machine: it merely requires that in performing his special function “he feels he is serving something.”

The last statement of Durkheim’s that man should feel that he is “serving something,” is crucial. This is, to a great extent, what the worker is missing in present-day society. It seems that society has lost touch with the purpose of work and views it in its materialistic aspect, as something that must be done in order to survive economically. Therefore, enthusiasm, the sense of purpose of accomplishment, and the sense of service to society through work in general are lacking. Albert Schweitzer once said:

The affirmative attitude (the will-to-progress) can produce of itself only a partial and imperfect civilization. Only if it becomes inward and ethical can the will-to-progress which results from it possess the requisite insight to distinguish the valuable from the less valuable, and strive after a civilization which does not exist only in achievements of knowledge and power, but before all else will make men, both individually and collectively, more spiritual and more ethical. . . .

What present-day society is gravely lacking is the “inward and ethical” character so essential if civilization is to progress both spiritually and materially.

The Answer

OVER one hundred years ago Bahá’u’lláh, the Prophet-Founder of the Bahá’í Faith, stated, “All men have been created to carry forward [Page 21] an ever-advancing civilization.” “The day is approaching when We will have rolled up the world and all that is therein, and spread out a new order in its stead.” The changes that the new world order of Bahá’u’lláh will bring about are myriad.

Work in the new order has been given a unique status, for it has been elevated to the station of worship and is considered, when done in the right spirit, a service not only to mankind but to God: “The man who makes a piece of notepaper to the best of his ability, conscientiously, concentrating all of his forces on perfecting it, is giving praise to God.” Such a position will inevitably become a profound challenge for society. It calls for a change that will ultimately bring about a social system wherein everyone will be engaged in work for the basic purpose of worship. Nowhere in the history of mankind has work been endowed with such a high and noble station. The high position bestowed on work also has profound implications for each individual. In a society where the goal of each individual worker is not merely to gain a livelihood but service to humanity and worship of God, each will approach his trade or profession with the aim of producing the best possible results, knowing that he can indeed help create a world that will accomplish the oneness and unity of mankind.

In addition to having been given a unique station, work in the new order has been made mandatory. Bahá’u’lláh has emphatically stated that everyone must choose for himself a profession or vocation in the sciences and arts, something that will be of service to mankind: “Waste not your time in idleness and sloth. Occupy yourselves with that which profiteth yourselves and others. . . . The most despised of men in the sight of God are those who sit idly and beg.” Elsewhere Bahá’u’lláh has stated that “it is incumbent on every one to engage in crafts and professions,” explaining that “therein lies the secret of wealth” to men of understanding. He further stated, “Trees that yield no fruit have been and will ever be for the fire.” The implications for men and women, young and old, are many.

But beyond the dynamic of a new spiritual definition of and a new spiritual attitude toward work lies the basic need for a healthy social system where mankind can live and function in harmony and equity. Thus we find that the world order of Bahá’u’lláh provides the spiritual solution of the overall economic problem. At the core of the new economic system is strict adherence to justice at all levels and for all the people of society. Without justice the problems that have continued to plague humanity for centuries cannot be resolved. This is precisely why Bahá’u’lláh has emphatically said that “The best beloved of all things in My sight is Justice. . . .”

The solution to the economic problem as delineated by Bahá’u’lláh is comprised of three basic principles. First is the notion of social security. By this is meant that the state should see to it that no individual suffer from poverty nor be abandoned when unemployed. Therefore, the government should support its citizens whenever the need arises. As far as the individual worker is concerned, this principle removes the stress and anxiety during the period of unemployment. It also provides a support system, a sense of security, and the time needed for the worker to obtain new employment.

[Page 22] Bahá’u’lláh’s second principle is that of a graduated income tax, which allows wealth to be limited through taxation so that the boundless gap between wealth and poverty may be eliminated. Again, this tenet is based on justice for all. Stanwood Cobb has written:

Bahá’u’lláh gave no intimation of how far the leveling process was to go. This would be left to future governments. But as later expounded by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, the aim and result would be to reduce large incomes and to insure to all humans at least a sufficiency for the daily needs. The right of human competency to win superior financial rewards, incomes, and luxuries would still be preserved.

The third principle for ensuring the solution of economic problems is that of industrial profit sharing and the interdependence of capital and labor. Such a concept not only would bring about industrial harmony and stability but would allow industry to operate through cooperation. The worker would have no need to strike and would no longer be treated as a commodity. Rather, he would have the security of a pension upon retirement and would own shares in the company employing him.

Sociologist Rudolph Steiner has stated that:

The old formulas will accomplish nothing toward solving the labor riddle. It will simply be a continuation of the see-saw enactments designed to keep two irreconcilable elements from getting out of hand and going on a rampage of national sabotage. The corrective measures necessary must be taken on more fundamental levels. . . .

. . . It can come to pass only when the three primary departments of life—namely the economic, the political and the spiritual—will be so constituted as to function autonomously, each according to their own inherent natures, yet coordinated into a unified whole.

The solutions Steiner has outlined are precisely those the world order of Bahá’u’lláh can provide. Unless there is justice and an equitable division of the profits between labor and capital, a sound economic system will not be able to function within the social system. However, a society with a sound economic system will realistically evaluate the major problems inherent in the assembly line and the dissatisfactions that develop among workers. It will then produce a better working environment and make the necessary changes that will benefit the worker as well as the goals of the organization.

The attitude toward work as well as the spiritual solution to the economic problem outlined in the Bahá’í teachings adumbrates a social order in which justice and equity for all mankind will be an absolute reality. No longer will work broken into its component parts for conveyor belts and assembly lines degrade man to the level of a machine. Rather, the assembly line will be altered or modified in order to bring about a healthy and productive environment for the worker. The government will guarantee that the worker receive aid and support in time of need. The spiritual and ethical characteristics that are the necessary requisites for a healthy, progressive civilization will become manifest through the unfoldment of the world order of Bahá’u’lláh.

[Page 23]

Theory of Evil

Big Harpe, Little Harpe—

you met them on

the Natchez Trace

you’d stare into mystic

evil’s face.

Oh wouldn’t live

to say you had,

or if you did

could only gasp

With hurting breath—

Them Harpes—

before delirium and death.

Po’ wayfaring

stranger, none

to ease his moans,

Big Harpe slashed

him open, filled

his belly with stones

then left him for

the river to eat.

(We think of that

as we follow the Trace

from Nashville down

to Jackson—muse

on the cussedness

of the human race.)

When Big Harpe’s head

had been cut off,

they took and nailed it

to a sycamore tree.

(Buzzards gathered

but would not feed.)

It crooned in its festering,

sighed in its withering—

Almighty God

He fashioned me

for to be a scourge,

the scourge of all humanity.

—Robert Hayden

[Page 24]

[Page 25]

Alain Locke’s Social Philosophy

BY ERNEST D. MASON

ALAIN LOCKE is remembered today primarily for his work during the Harlem Renaissance (1920-30), an outburst of creativity among blacks in the field of art, music, fiction, poetry, and drama. Apart from his famous anthology The New Negro (1925) and his numerous activities as a teacher and cultural mentor, Locke wrote a number of essays on literary and aesthetic themes that continued to give a decisive impetus to the New Negro movement. It is little wonder, then, that most readers of Locke’s work, preoccupied above all with his aesthetics, fail to realize how much attention he paid to the more technical issues of philosophy. A very important facet of Locke’s philosophical writings is his social philosophy and its Bahá’í foundation.

To place Locke in a historical perspective we need to trace briefly his intellectual development. Alain Leroy Locke was born in Philadelphia on September 13, 1886, and died on June 10, 1954. After attending Central High School and the Philadelphia School of Pedagogy, Locke entered Harvard University in 1904. There he studied under the classic American philosophers, “clinging,” he says, “to the genteel tradition of Palmer, Royce and Munsterberg, yet attracted by the disillusion of Santayana and the radical protest of James.” After graduating from Harvard in 1907 with a highly distinguished academic record, he studied at Oxford University in England as the first black Rhodes Scholar and earned a bachelor of literature degree. From Oxford he went to the University of Berlin for a year of advanced work in philosophy. There he studied the writings of Franz Brentano, Alexius von Meinong, and Christian von Ehrenfels. When he returned to the United States, he began teaching at Howard University. In 1916 Locke returned to Harvard to work under Josiah Royce; after Royce’s death he took his doctorate in value theory under Ralph Barton Perry. He wrote his dissertation on “The Problem of Classification in the Theory of Value” (1918). Upon receiving his degree he returned to Howard University, where he remained until his death. During his career as a philosopher and educator Locke served on the editorial boards of The American Scholar, Progressive Education (with John Dewey), and the Conference on Science, Philosophy and Religion, along with Roy Wood Sellers, Richard McKeon, F. S. C. Northrop, the anthropologist Robert Lowie, and others. He was a member of the American Philosophical Association and the International Institute of African Languages and Cultures, Paris; in 1946 he was elected President of the American Association of Adult Education. In 1950 he was a guest professor at the Harvard Academic Festival in Salzburg.

This is by no means a complete listing of Locke’s activities. Yet it is enough to indicate the dangers of viewing Locke only as an art and literary critic and of confining his existence to the Harlem Renaissance. Locke clearly understood himself as a philosopher, and as a philosopher he felt the need not only to serve his race and its particular problems but also to pursue truth, wisdom, and freedom for the human race. This fundamental [Page 26] faith in the philosopher’s mission accounts for Locke’s decision to devote his entire life to making racial and cultural differences secure in a world of never-ending racial and cultural prejudice.

The phrase “social philosophy” is a rather ambiguous expression used to designate many kinds of subject matter and types of inquiry. However, virtually every sense of the phrase connotes some reference to the quest for the good life. Perhaps Robert Nisbet states the matter more precisely when he says that “the history of Western social philosophy is basically, the history of men’s ideas and ideals of community.” This seems to be true whether we think of Plato, Rousseau, or Marx. But such a quest obviously presupposes the notion of anticommunity or moral and social conflicts and the various attempts to overcome them. It is precisely this quest for social harmony that prompts social philosophers to probe such concepts as freedom, authority, equality, and justice. Insofar as Locke’s cultural pluralism addresses itself to all of these issues, it qualifies as a social philosophy par excellence. In his “Pluralism and Intellectual Democracy” (1942) Locke voiced his desire to make cultural pluralism the social philosophy of democracy, adapted to America’s cosmopolitan setting. With its stress on the dignity of individual and cultural differences and the evils of social, political, and religious authoritarianism and exploitation, cultural pluralism came to be regarded by many during Locke’s time as an intelligent and humane philosophy.

For Locke, cultural pluralism and cultural relativism both have their foundation in the Bahá’í principle of unity in diversity. In his essay “Unity Through Diversity: A Bahá’í Principle” (1930) Locke points out that “This principle is basic in the Bahá’í teaching. It may lead us to another dangerous partisanship to assert it as exclusively Bahá’í; but there is no escaping the historical evidences of its early advocacy and its uncompromising adoption by the Bahá’í prophets and teachers.” Locke adds, “But it is not the time for insisting on this side of the claim; the intelligent, loyal Bahá’í should stress not the source, but the importance of the idea, and rejoice not in the originality and uniqueness of the principle but rather in its prevalence and practicality. The idea has to be translated into every important province of modern life and thought. . . .” Alain Locke was one such loyal Bahá’í who never wavered in his task of translating the principle of unity in diversity into every important domain of modern life and thought. Indeed, a careful examination of his work reveals that from 1916 to 1954 his writings exhibit a remarkable continuity. They all return, in one way or another, to the themes of cultural relativism and cultural pluralism, themes in which pleas for unity in diversity are inherent. In addition to his four articles published in The Bahá’í World—“The Orientation of Hope” (1931), “Unity Through Diversity: A Bahá’í Principle” (1930), “Impressions of Haifa” (1929), and “Lessons in World Crisis” (1933)—there are numerous other writings that stress the need for unity in diversity, tolerance, and ideological peace: “Pluralism and Ideological Peace,” “Cultural Relativism and Ideological Peace,” When People Meet: A Study of Race and Culture Contacts (with Bernhard J. Stern) , “Color: The Unfinished Business of Democracy,” “Democracy Faces World Order,” and “Understanding World Cultures.”

[Page 27] But Locke did not limit himself merely to writing about the important Bahá’í principle of unity in diversity. He worked diligently with ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in organizing the first convention for racial unity in Washington, D.C., in 1921; and he helped organize similar conventions in New York and elsewhere. Moreover, he delivered speeches and conducted numerous discussions. In short, Locke was a well-known and respected figure among Bahá’í intellectuals, as is made clear from the various writings of Louis Gregory, from The Bahá’í Centenary 1844-1944: A Record of America’s Response to Bahá’u’lláh’s Call to the Realization of the Oneness of Mankind, and from the various articles published in The Bahá’í World.

As a social philosopher Locke was most impressed with the avowed social mission of the Bahá’í Faith. In his own words, “The Bahá’í teaching proposed a religion social and modern in its objectives; and so the challenge comes directly home to every Bahá’í believer to carry the universal dimension of tolerance and spiritual reciprocity into every particular cause and sectarianism that he can reach.” In a similar passage Locke says:

In starting with the unequivocal assertion of equivalence and reciprocity between religion, the Bahá’í teaching has touched one of the trunk-nerves of the whole situation. But it seems that this principle needs to be carried into the social and cultural fields, because there the support and adherence of the most vigorous and intellectual elements in most societies can be enlisted. Translated into more secular terms, a greater practical range will be opened up for the application and final vindication of the Bahá’í principles. Only the narrowly orthodox will feel any loss of spirituality in this, and the truly religious-minded person will see in it a positive multiplication of spiritual power, directly proportional to the breadth [Page 28] and variety of the interests touched and motivated.

In the following examination of Locke’s social philosophy I hope to demonstrate fully that Locke was, theoretically and practically, concerned with the very social issues stressed in the Bahá’í Faith: justice, equality, nonviolence, tolerance, and racial and ideological peace. The pivot of Locke’s thinking on these issues is his belief that human values are central in determining the course of social life. This concern with the social implication of value theory reveals itself most clearly in his review of Ralph Barton Perry’s Realms of Value (1954). The review, appropriately titled “Values That Matter,” opens with the assertion that

The realm of value—or as Professor Perry pluralistically and more wisely says, “Realms” of value—is one of the most important and most baffling of the provinces of philosophy. Its importance as a primary point of contact between thought and actual living is seldom given proper emphasis in either professional or lay thinking. The reasons are many, among them our chronic inclination to take values for granted. . . . It is both a notable and welcome exception to encounter an analysis of value that, without loss of scholarly depth, examines values in the vital context of their actual functioning, and as in the case of Realms of Value, yields cumulative insight into the role of values in motivating and in providing sanctions—rational and rationalized—for our civilization.

“The common man,” says Locke in “Values and Imperatives,” “in both his individual and group behavior, perpetuates the problem in a very practical way. He sets up personal and private and group norms as standards and principles, and rightly or wrongly hypostasizes them as universals for all conditions, all times and all men. Whether then on the plane of reason or that of action, ‘above the battle’ in the conflicts of ‘ism’ and the ‘bloodless battle of ideas’ or in the battle of partisans with their conflicting and irreconcilable ways of life, the same essential strife goes on, and goes on in the name of eternal ends and deified ultimates.”

The major obstacle to overcome in achieving ideological peace, according to Locke, is the belief that before people of different races and cultures can live together they must adhere to the same principles. In his article “Unity Through Diversity: A Bahá’í Principle,” Locke takes issue with this view, arguing that “Spiritual unity is never achieved by an exacting demand for conformity or through any program of imposed agreement. In fact, the demands of such an attitude are self-defeating. What we need to learn most is how to discover unity and spiritual equivalence underneath the differences that at present so disunite and sunder us, and how to establish some basic spiritual reciprocity on the principle of unity in diversity.” It is to this very difficult problem of achieving unity through diversity that we must now turn.

Pluralism, Relativism, and Ideological Peace

LOCKE’S proposed solution to ideological conflicts is stated briefly in “Values and Imperatives” (1935), “Pluralism and Ideological Peace” (1947), and “Pluralism and Intellectual Democracy” (1942) but receives a more detailed treatment in his “Cultural Relativism and Ideological Peace” (1944). In each of these works Locke maintains that ideological divergence is the basis of hostility and strife. Since conflicting ideologies are not likely to disappear in the future, there exists the urgent need to avoid their possible violent eruption. To accomplish this, says [Page 29] Locke, “we need a realistic but sympathetic understanding of the bases of our value differences, and their root causes, some of them temperamental, more of them experimental, still more, of cultural derivation. After outlawing orthodoxy, the next step is to legitimize and interpret diversity, and then, if possible, to discover some ‘harmony in contratiety,’ some commonality in divergence.”

In other words, Locke is saying that ideological peace hinges upon the principle of “unity in diversity,” which, like pluralism and philosophic relativism, advocates a “fluid and functional unity rather than a fixed and irrevocable one, and its vital norms are equivalence and reciprocity rather than identity or complete agreement.” Hence, for Locke, the chief obstacle to achieving ideological peace lies in the demand for a monistic order of things. If, however, says Locke, “we stress reciprocity instead of regimentation and conformity, then, for example, romanticism and classicism could not reasonably think of themselves as monopolizing the field of art, nor Protestantism, Catholicism or even Christianity conceive themselves the only way to salvation. In such a perspective, Nordicism and other rampant racialisms might achieve historical sanity or at least prudential common-sense . . . and not sow their own eventual downfall through forced loyalties and the counter-reactions which they inevitably breed.” Realizing, however, that Protestants and Catholics, blacks and whites, and Christians and Jews will continue to cherish their beliefs and imperatives, Locke suggests that, “since we cannot banish our imperatives, we must find some principle of keeping them within bounds. It should be possible to maintain some norms as functional and native to the process of experience, without justifying arbitrary absolutes, and to uphold some categoricals without calling down fire from heaven. Norms of this status would be functional constants and practical sustaining imperatives of their correlated modes of experiences; nothing more, but also nothing less.”

Locke goes on to suggest that the best way to keep our imperatives in bounds is to realize that our ends represent only one aspect of human experience and that they stand only for a subsistent order of reality. We should not confuse them with complete objective reality or endow them with universality, for as imperatives of behavior and action, they are purely functional and relative. To use Locke’s own metaphor, we should “think of reality as a central fact and a white light broken up by the prism of human nature into a spectrum of values. . . . As derivative aspects of the same basic reality, value orders cannot reasonably become competitive and rival realities.” Given this pluriverse of values, Locke thinks that the best way to avoid ideological conflicts is to follow the principle of “loyalty to loyalty”: “It is the Roycean principle of ‘loyalty to loyalty,’ which though idealistic in origin and defense, was a radical break with the tradition of absolutism. . . . In its larger outlines and implications it proclaimed a relativism of values and a principle of reciprocity. Loyalty to loyalty transposed to all fundamental value orders would then have meant, reverence for reverence, tolerance between moral systems, reciprocity in art, and had so good a metaphysician been able to conceive it, relativism in philosophy.” Ideological peace thus hinges upon the individual’s ability to cherish his values sensibly and practically, which means that he must consciously avoid bias, dogma, bigotry, and arbitrary orthodoxy. Locke himself states the matter clearly in the following passage in “Pluralism and Intellectual Democracy”:

In the pluralistic frame of reference value dogmatism is outlawed. . . . Value profession or adherence on that basis would [Page 30] need to be critical and selective and tentative (in the sense that science is tentative) and revisionist in procedure rather than dogmatic, final and en bloc. One can visualize the difference by saying that with the many articles of faith, each article would need independent scrutiny and justification and would stand, fall or be revised, be accepted, rejected or qualified accordingly. Fundamentalism of the “all or none” of “this goes with it” varieties could neither be demanded, expected nor tolerated. Value assertion would thus be a tolerant assertion of preference, not an intolerant insistence on agreement of finality. Value disciplines would take on the tentative and revisionist procedure of natural science.

A more detailed account of Locke’s ideas concerning ideological peace may be found in his “Cultural Relativism and Ideological Peace” (1944). It is here that Locke gives three principles that would allow for a more objective and scientific understanding of human cultures. The first is what he calls the principle of “cultural equivalence,” according to which we should

press the search for functional similarities in our analysis and comparisons of human cultural difference. Such functional equivalences, which we might term “culture-cognates” or “culture-correlates,” discovered underneath deceptive but superficial institutional divergence, would provide objective but soundly neutral common denominators for intercultural understanding and cooperation.

Elsewhere Locke refers to this principle as a search for “functional constants as a scientific substitute for so-called ‘universals.’”

Although Locke himself never specifies what these constants are, it is fairly clear from his overall notion of cultural relativism that he has in mind the basic findings of cross-cultural research. All cultures, for example, are said to be involved in a quest for food, shelter, and other means of satisfying survival needs. The need for a system of values and beliefs and the need for knowledge, order, and form are only a few of numerous such needs. The important fact Locke wishes to stress here, however, is that these “constants” and “similarities” must be discovered underneath “deceptive but superficial institutional divergence.” This is precisely the point Claude Lévi—Strauss tried to make in his study of so-called primitive cultures in The Savage Mind. Individuals associated with such cultures exhibit as great a thirst for objective, disinterested knowledge as do people in our own culture. The pygmies of the Philippines, the North American Hopi Indians, and the Luchozi of northern Rhodesia all possess an incredibly detailed wealth of knowledge about plants, animals, and natural surroundings, ordered around principles at high levels of generality and abstraction. Thus while there are certain cultural universals or constants, the variety of their actual mode of operation and manifestation is almost limitless and not subject to any fixed formula.

Locke’s second principle, that of “cultural reciprocity,” states that “the reciprocal character of all contacts between cultures and . . . the fact that all modern cultures are highly composite ones [should] invalidate the lump estimating of cultures in terms of generalized, en bloc assumptions of superiority and inferiority. . . .” This principle helps to explain Locke’s rejection of the notion of “biracialism.” In a culture as composite as America’s, cultural contact and reciprocity are inevitable. For example, “What is distinctively Negro in culture usually passes over by rapid osmosis to the general culture. . . . The Negro culture product we find to be in every instance itself a composite, partaking often of the nationally typical and characteristic [Page 31] as well. . . . The subtle interpenetration of the ‘national’ and the ‘racial’ traits is interesting evidence of cultural cross-fertilization and . . . of the effective charm and potence of certain cultural hybrids.” One of the best examples for Locke of a cultural hybrid is jazz. Jazz is, he says, “one-third Negro folk idiom, one-third ordinary middle class American idea and sentiment, one-third spirit of the ‘machine-age’ which, more and more becomes not American but Occidental. Because the basic color of the mixture is Negro, we attribute jazz, more largely than we should, to Negro life. Rather we should think of it this way—jazz represents Negro life in its technical elements, American life in general in its intellectual content.” In a similar spirit, Locke, in reference to G. F. Hudson’s Europe and China, points out that Chinese civilization furnished Europe not only with basic materials but with technological skills, scientific inventions, and even institutional ideas and models:

Such interchange continued as late as the eighteenth century, when there was also a sustained Chinese cultural vogue, affecting influentially the art, literature and philosophy of that period, A little known phase of that comparatively recent influence is called to attention in the Maverick account of The Chinese Influence Upon the Physiocrats. Although affecting primarily a small group of intellectuals, this was by no means a negligible cross-influence, because it became the base of the classical economic theory as well as stimulating much of the rationalistic and Utopian political thought of the same period.

In sum, because of the vast evidence of cultural cross-fertilization, interchange, and reciprocity, assumptions of cultural superiority and cultural inferiority are both specious and dubious and thus unworthy of any serious consideration. The principle of cultural reciprocity is thus for Locke not only empirically verifiable but, more important, morally desirable, since it implies the notions of sharing and relatedness.

The third and final principle is that of “limited cultural convertibility,” which states that

since [within] culture elements, though widely interchangeable, and separable, the institutional forms from their values and the values from their institutional forms, the organic selectivity and assimilative capacity of a borrowing culture becomes a limiting criterion for cultural exchange. Conversely, pressure acculturation and the mass transplanting of culture, the stock procedure of groups with traditions of culture superiority and dominance, are counterindicated as against both the interests of cultural efficiency and the natural trends of cultural selectivity.

Many cultures adhere to cultural traditions and folkways much more rigidly than do others. In such cultures novelty is not worshiped for its own sake, and a new cultural trait is usually accepted only when its functional utility has been demonstrated or when it fits easily into the established culture pattern. Accordingly, the success and survival of every culture depends upon the degree of autonomy or freedom it possesses in allowing its own values and institutions to exist organically and functionally. If this freedom is not allowed to exist, the culture in question begins to fall apart or undergo internal crisis. The disdainful rejection of the indigenous customs and traditions of many Asian and African societies is ample evidence of the crippling effect of forced acculturation.

The essence of Locke’s proposal for ideological peace lies in his suggestion that we realize that ways of making sense of the [Page 32] world are plural. Achieving ideological peace means, among other things, accepting that as a fundamental fact. Perhaps some day we shall be able to agree upon the means toward the good life. In the meantime, we can only be tolerant; humane; and, whenever it seems necessary, appropriate, and possible open to value conversion. The latter, if difficult, is especially significant, for in Locke’s words, “It is, after all, our values and value systems that have divided us, apart from and in many cases over and above our material issues of rivalry and conflict. If we are ever to have less conflict and more unity, it must come about in considerable part from some deep change in our value attitudes and our cultural allegiances. The increasing proximity of cultures in the modern world makes all the more necessary some corrective adjustment of their ‘psychological distance.’”

Pluralism, Relativism, and Democracy

ALTHOUGH Locke shared with his contemporaries the contention that America was dominated by a unique liberal consensus and respect for tolerance, he was one of the few, among academic intellectuals, to emphasize specifically the undesirable and even undemocratic aspects of American democracy. “Democracy Faces a World Order” (1942), “Color: The Unfinished Business of Democracy” (1942), and “Pluralism and Intellectual Democracy” (1942), all written during the second World War, are essential to an understanding of the theoretical basis for this critique. In “Color: The Unfinished Business of Democracy” Locke emphasizes the friction between white and non-white people of the world, the dominant and subject respectively. Democracy’s unfinished business is to abolish this latter distinction and to make universal the parity of people —yellow, black, red, and white:

color and ethnic differentials correspond very largely to those invidious distinctions between imperial and colonial, dominant and subject status out of which has arisen the double standards of national morality. The crux of this inner conflict is whether our vision of world democracy can break through the barriers of cultural racialism to reach the Four Freedoms in their universal goals. Certainly here, both nationally and internationally, color becomes the acid test of our fundamental honesty in putting into practice the democracy we preach. There is essential truth, then, in saying that the parity of peoples is the main moral issue of this global conflict. Only through the vindication and implementation of that principal can democracy come full circle, can we conclude a war for world freedom with a just and stable peace.

Because of America’s cosmopolitan population, Locke naturally looked to it to demonstrate to the world how this parity of peoples can be made a reality. But in the process of doing so, says Locke, America must overcome not only its political adversary, totalitarianism, but its own internal shortcomings: “There is little use blaming Germany, Italy, and Japan for all this pain and torture on the body politic; that is childish and unscientific. Some of it stems from our own social rheumatisms and our ancient imperial gout. A good part of the trouble is endemic, calling for self-medication and cure if the internal economy of democracy is to be brought back to vigorous health and strength.” Locke is referring to the tendency of democracies in general to engage in national imperialism, economic overlordship, and cultural racialism. More specifically, however, he is attacking American democracy’s failure to deal justly with its black citizens: “In the neglected and unsolved problem of [Page 33] the Negro in America, the Achilles of the West has a dangerously vulnerable heel. At any time, in any critical position requiring moral authority before the world, this threatens to impair our influence as an exemplar of democracy. It has already done so.” Dealing justly and fairly with American blacks, Locke reasoned, would result in a more favorable image of American democracy, a better life for blacks, a desire on the part of other democracies to act in a similar fashion, and, consequently, in a gain for all oppressed people of the world. It is at this point that Locke’s long-range and future-oriented thinking and worldmindedness reveal themselves most emphatically and admirably:

To the farsighted the future is not divorced from present action. Every constructive step in social democracy, in social justice, is not only net gain for the present but assured dividends for the future. So linked up are the home and foreign fronts of race, that it matters little where the moves begin. Any gain is a world gain; and any setback, a world loss. The recent full recognition of Ethiopia has favorable repercussions in Harlem; our remission of extraterritoriality in China is as much a matter of morale for those who think on the Gold Coast or in Georgia as with those who plan and heroically fight in China.

What Locke wants is not so much a democracy of extended political power and domain but a “much more needed democracy of full moral stature, world influence and world respect. It is such unfinished business, foreign and domestic, that waits on democracy’s calendar today.”

In “Pluralism and Intellectual Democracy” Locke discusses what he takes to be the “latent absolutism” at the core of America’s democratic loyalties, loyalties that sanction many dangerous ideas:

The fundamentalist lineage of “hundred per-centism” for all its ancient and sacrosanct derivation, is only too obvious. . . . Equally obvious is the absolutist loyalty of the secular dogma of “my country, right or wrong.” Such instances confront us with the paradox of democratic loyalties absolutistically practiced. Far too much of our present democratic creed and practice is cast in the mold of such blind loyalty and en bloc rationalization, with too many of our citizens the best of democrats for the worst of reasons—mere conformity. Apart from the theoretical absolutistic taint, it should be disconcerting to ponder that by the same token, if transported, these citizens would be “perfect” Nazis and the best of totalitarians.

Locke continues his attack on democratic tolerance, characterizing it as qualitatively weak, unstable, and predicated on too emotional and too abstract a basis. Indeed, much of this tolerance is “simply indifference and laissez faire rationalized.” Hence it only takes a critical, practical situation to reveal a democracy’s actual position, as opposed to the one it merely professes in fair weather. As Locke states the matter, “Not being anchored in any definite intellectual base, it is too easily set aside in time of stress and challenge. . . . We are all sadly acquainted with how it may blow away in time of crisis or break when challenged by self-interest, and how under stress we find ourselves, after all, unreasonably biased in favor of ‘our own,’ whether it be the mores, ideas, faiths or merely ‘our crowd.’ This is a sure sign that value bigotry is somehow still deeply rooted there.” And as we noted earlier, value bigotry leads to intolerance and absolutism, both of which are for Locke necessary consequences of any attitude that lacks a sound intellectual base. If adopted, pluralism will give America an appropriate and more effective democratic rationale.

[Page 34] Again, Locke’s social philosophy demands that we live in terms of our own institutions and values but respect the institutions and values of others. That America was characterized by a diversity and plurality of ethnic cultures was for Locke an unquestionable fact. However, keeping in mind the distinction between pluralism as a descriptive concept and relativism as a normative one, I should point out that it was equally clear to Locke that America was not relativistic in attitude and philosophic perspective. It is precisely the separation between pluralism and relativism that explains much of America’s democratic intolerance. For a plurality of ethnic groups simply cannot exist within a society that refuses to recognize the relative and functional nature of values and institutions. Accordingly, the essence of Locke’s critique of democracy centers around democracy’s need to develop a relativistic perspective to fit its pluralistic society. As Marx attempted to stand Hegel on his head, Locke attempted almost as much with respect to the application of democratic theory.

The overall value of Locke’s social philosophy seems to lie in its effort to ensure that our feelings and attitudes are positive and conducive to a harmonious social life. We can but admire Locke’s recognition that the predicament of most of us is that we are too much subject to a kind of monadic myopia. Our interpretation of the world is inveterately self-centered and self-referential. We find difficulty in seeing the world and others as they actually are, undistorted by our own values, beliefs, and fears. For these reasons and others, Locke’s attempt to establish the good society by way of the Bahá’í principal of unity in diversity and by educating our feelings and attitudes toward ourselves and others is noteworthy. It needs to be pursued and developed further by all interested in human and social relations.

[Page 35]

[Page 36]

Some Aspects of the Bahá’í Expressive Style

BY ALESSANDRO BAUSANI

This article first appeared in Opinioni Bahá’í, 2, No. 4 (Oct.-Dec. 1978), 1-7. Translated by permission.

ONE OF THE OBJECTIONS that many people, even religious people, make to Bahá’ís is this: “Must you always talk about social problems? Why is it that whoever comes to your meetings, instead of hearing about spiritual things hears that a new calendar is needed, or a more equal division of resources, and things like that?” The answer to this type of objection, an answer that, as we shall see, will bring us to stylistic problems, is simple. Bahá’ís have a fixation on Unity. The unity of the world is the most important thing to Bahá’ís. Indeed, their Founder, Bahá’u’lláh, has said:

It beseemeth all men, in this Day, to take firm hold on the Most Great Name, and to establish the unity of all mankind.

That which the Lord hath ordained as the sovereign remedy and mightiest instrument for the healing of all the world is the union of all its peoples in one universal Cause, one common Faith. . . . This, verily, is the truth, and all else naught but error.

To emphasize the preëminence of this idea of unity, its extreme urgency and practicality, in my usual paradoxical manner I once scandalized an acquaintance of mine by saying that, it seemed to me, a world united under a reactionary czar was essentially more progressive than a group of progressive “Switzerlands” in Europe accompanied by proudly independent African or Asian countries, with their customs offices and flags, but in which hunger still kills. To understand what Bahá’ís are saying, one must see everything under this double ensign: Unity and Future, Unity in the Future, a future that we can know up to a certain point.

From this point of view, one can respond to many objections. Someone could ask, for example, “But why does your year begin March 21, just when activity begins to diminish, in anticipation of summer? Wouldn’t it be better to begin with the fall Equinox (like the Jewish year for example)?” The immediate response of Bahá’ís would be: “And who says that the center of future universal culture should have to be the northern hemisphere?” (Obviously, there can be other answers too—Spring corresponds to the rebirth of spiritual life, and so forth, but the answer given above seems more “Bahá’í” to me).

LET US LOOK at the Bahá’í doctrines under this double, or rather, triple, point of view, which can be synthesized thus: Unity is to be realized in the immediate future, under the guidance not of men, but of God (who has already [Page 37] guided the evolution of history and of humanity in the past), and in a specific direction that excludes any others. From this we can understand many other things; and, more important, we can easily allay many doubts that may arise in the minds of non-Bahá’ís and perhaps also of Bahá’ís. Simply stated, the Bahá’í Faith, given what we have said above, is not an ideology that can look to the past for its model. We do not have the basilicas of Saint Peter, the beautiful madonnas of Rafael, GothiC cathedrals, grandiose theological treatises like the Summa of St. Thomas Aquinas, to idolize as great things of the past. We shall have them, and it rests in us, if not to create them now, to lay the foundation for their future creation. Everything is, for us, in fieri [Latin: “to be done”], in evolution. That is exactly what makes for so much confusion in our non-Bahá’í friends who, accustomed to think instinctively according to the formula Religion = Past, interpret in a set sense our extremely short past of about a century, extrapolating from it a theology (which then becomes the theology of a Muslim sect), a literature (which is then the Persian literature of the Qájár epoch, not one of the most brilliant periods), an art (for example, that of certain of our Temples, which may not please everyone), and so on. The foundations are fixed, yes, but everything else is always open toward new, future creations. In one of His Tablets, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, speaking of the spiritual meetings of Bahá’ís, says:

The Spiritual Meetings, which are organized in this cycle of God and this divine century, have never had their simile or likeness in bygone cycles. For the great meetings (organizations) were under the protection of aristocratic men, while these meetings (or organizations) are under the protection of the bounty of El-ABHA. . . .

Consider not the present condition, but rather foresee the future and the end. A seed in the beginning is very small, but in the end a great tree. One should not consider the seed, but the tree and its abundance of blossoms, leaves and fruits.

These words clearly delineate the Bahá’í method of which I spoke earlier. We cannot now, therefore, speak of Bahá’í art, Bahá’í theology: we are the seed, and it would be a mistake to infer a “Bahá’í architecture” with precise rules, from our present buildings (imagine if the early Christians had taken the catacombs as their model for their churches!) or even a “Bahá’í literature” from the style of our holy writings (what if all Christians had started writing in the style of the Gospels? I do not know what the result would have been. . . .).

[Page 38]

THUS WE PASS, as suggested at the beginning, to a problem of style. It is frankly necessary to recognize that certain Bahá’í writings seem “difficult,” and sometimes “annoying” for Westerners. But, once again, it is necessary to see why, in light of what ‘Abdu’l-Bahá told us in the Tablet quoted above. Let us examine, for example, this passage from Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh:

By the righteousness of God! Whoso openeth his lips in this Day and maketh mention of the name of his Lord, the hosts of Divine inspiration shall descend upon him from the heaven of My name, the All-Knowing, the All-Wise. On him shall also descend the Concourse on high, each bearing aloft a chalice of pure light. Thus hath it been foreordained in the realm of God’s Revelation, by the behest of Him Who is the All-Glorious, the Most Powerful.

There lay concealed within the Holy Veil, and prepared for the service of God, a company of His chosen ones who shall be manifested unto men, who shall aid His Cause, who shall be afraid of no one, though the entire human race rise up and war against them. These are the ones who, before the gaze of the dwellers on earth and the denizens of heaven, shall arise and, shouting aloud, acclaim the name of the Almighty, and summon the children of men to the path of God, the All-Glorious, the All-Praised. Walk thou in their way, and let no one dismay thee. Be of them whom the tumult of the world, however much it may agitate them in the path of their Creator, can never sadden, whose purpose the blame of the blamer will never defeat.

Go forth with the Tablet of God and His signs, and rejoin them that have believed in Me, and announce unto them tidings of Our most holy Paradise. Warn, then, those that have joined partners with Him. Say: I am come to you, O people, from the Throne of glory, and bear you an announcement from God, the Most Powerful, the Most Exalted, the Most Great. In mine hand I carry the testimony of God, your Lord and the Lord of your sires of old. Weigh it with the just Balance that ye possess, the Balance of the testimony of the Prophets and Messengers of God. If ye find it to be established in truth, if ye believe it to be of God, beware, then, lest ye cavil at it, and render your works vain, and be numbered with the infidels. It is indeed the sign of God that hath been sent down through the power of truth, through which the validity of His Cause hath been demonstrated unto His creatures, and the ensigns of purity lifted up betwixt earth and heaven.

Say: This is the sealed and mystic Scroll, the repository of God’s irrevocable Decree, bearing the words which the Finger of Holiness hath traced, that lay wrapt within the veil of impenetrable mystery, and hath now been sent down as a token of the grace of Him Who is the Almighty, the Ancient of Days. In it have We decreed the destinies of all the dwellers of the earth and the denizens of heaven, and written down the knowledge of all things from first to last. Nothing whatsoever can escape or frustrate Him, whether created in the past or to be created in the future, could ye but perceive it.

Say: The Revelation sent down by God hath most surely been repeated, and the outstretched Hand of Our power hath overshadowed all that are in the heavens and all that are on the earth. We have, through the power [Page 39] of truth, the very truth, manifested an infinitesimal glimmer of Our impenetrable Mystery, and lo, they that have recognized the radiance of the Sinaic splendor expired, as they caught a lightening glimpse of this Crimson Light enveloping the Sinai of Our Revelation. Thus hath He Who is the Beauty of the All-Merciful come down in the clouds of His testimony, and the decree accomplished by virtue of the Will of God, the All-Glorious, the All-Wise.

Say: Step out of Thy holy chamber, O Maid of Heaven, inmate of the Exalted Paradise! Drape thyself in whatever manner pleaseth Thee in the silken Vesture of Immortality, and put on, in the name of the All-Glorious, the broidered Robe of Light. Hear, then, the sweet, the wondrous accent of the Voice that cometh from the Throne of Thy Lord, the Inaccessible, the Most High. Unveil Thy face, and manifest the beauty of the black-eyed Damsel, and suffer not the servants of God to be deprived of the light of Thy shining countenance. Grieve not if Thou hearest the sighs of the dwellers of the earth, or the voice of the lamentation of the denizens of heaven. Leave them to perish on the dust of extinction. Let them be reduced to nothingness, inasmuch as the flame of hatred hath been kindled within their breasts. Intone, then, before the face of the peoples of earth and heaven, and in a most melodious voice, the anthem of praise, for a remembrance of Him Who is the King of the names and attributes of God. Thus have We decreed Thy destiny. Well able are We to achieve Our purpose.

Beware that Thou divest not Thyself, Thou Who are the Essence of Purity, of Thy robe of effulgent glory. Nay, enrich Thyself increasingly, in the kingdom of creation, with the incorruptible vestures of Thy God, that the beauteous image of the Almighty may be reflected through Thee in all created things and the grace of Thy Lord be infused in the plenitude of its power into the entire creation.

If Thou smellest from any one the smell of the love of Thy Lord, offer up Thyself for him, for We have created Thee to this end, and have covenanted with Thee, from time immemorial, and in the presence of the congregation of Our well-favored ones, for this very purpose. Be not impatient if the blind in heart hurl down the shafts of their idle fancies upon Thee. Leave them to themselves, for they follow the promptings of the evil ones.

Cry out before the gaze of the dwellers of heaven and of earth: I am the Maid of Heaven, the Offspring begotten by the Spirit of Bahá. My habitation is the Mansion of His Name, the All-Glorious. Before the Concourse on high I was adorned with the ornament of His names. I was wrapt within the veil of an inviolable security, and lay hidden from the eyes of men. Methinks that I heard a Voice of divine and incomparable sweetness, proceeding from the right hand of the God of Mercy, and lo, the whole Paradise stirred and trembled before Me, in its longing to hear its accents, and gaze on the beauty of Him that uttered them. Thus have We revealed in this luminous Tablet, and in the sweetest of languages, the verses which the Tongue of Eternity was moved to utter in the Qayyúm’l-Asma’.

Say: He ordaineth as He pleaseth, by virtue of His sovereignty, and doeth whatsoever He willeth at His own behest. He shall not be asked of the things it pleaseth Him to ordain. He, in truth, is the Unrestrained, the All-Powerful, [Page 40] the All-Wise.

They that have disbelieved in God and rebelled against His sovereignty are the helpless victims of their corrupt inclinations and desires. These shall return to their abode in the fire of hell: wretched is the abode of the deniers!

To understand it well, it is necessary to grasp the typical concept of God in the Bahá’í Faith, which is not at all identical with that common to other faiths.

LET US COMPARE the Bahá’í concept of God with that held by believers in other religions. Basically there exist two other ways to imagine God. One is the rigidly monotheistic idea of the Sunnite Muslim or of Jewish theology. There is, beyond the world, a transcendant personal God in whom is concentrated everything Holy, and then there is the world, created by Him and subordinate to Him. Man is, yes, one of his vicars on the earth, but not even Prophets are distinguished from other men. Then we have the pantheistic or monistic (unitarian) idea of the Hindu type, or even of the “pagan” type, for whom God is not a person, but something divine throughout the world and from whose immense breath the whole world, which is basically divine, was born. Saints and Prophets abound. Everything is full of Gods. The numerous gods are but symbolic forms of this all-pervading divine entity. But here is what ‘Abdu’l-Bahá says, in one of His Tablets, about these problems:

Thou hast written concerning the Impersonality of the Divinity. Personality is in the Manifestation of the Divinity, not in the Essence of the Divinity. The reality of the divine world is purified and sanctified from limits and restriction. But the pure Mirror, which is the Manifestor of the Sun of Truth and in which the Sun of Truth is manifest in full appearance—that mirror is restricted, not the lights. The soul pervadeth throughout the whole body, and its commands are effective in all the parts and limbs of man. Notwithstanding its utmost sanctification (or abstraction) this soul is manifest and evident in all its grades, in this material form. By seeing God is meant beholding the Manifestation of Himself; for witnessing the sun in its entire splendor, in a clear glassy surface, is identical with witnessing the essence of the sun itself.

When the souls of the sincere depart (from this body), then their unreal vision (i.e., seeing) is changed into a vision of reality. Even as man, when in the age of babyhood and imperfection, though he seeth things, yet that vision is superficial and external. But when he reacheth the world (or age) of perfection and becometh endowed with reasoning faculty and (the power of) discrimination and comprehension, then that vision of his is a vision (i.e., seeing) of reality and not the unreality.

It is evident that the divine nearness is an unlimited nearness, be it in this world or the next one. This is a nearness which is sanctified from the comprehension of the minds. The more a man seeketh light from the Sun of Truth, the nearer he will draw. For instance, a clear body is near unto the sun, and a black stone is far from the sun. This nearness dependeth upon [Page 41] clearness, purity and perfection and that remoteness is due to density, dullness (or obscurity) and imperfection.

One could not express in a clearer and simpler way what oppressed the minds of so many ancient theologians. Here, in this embryo of “Bahá’í theology,” we have a concept that embraces both of the fundamental religious ideas to which we referred above (and this is, perhaps, an important reason for the ease with which the Bahá’í Faith is accepted whether by Muslims and Jews, or by Hindus): God is unknowable in His essence, but manifest in degrees —that is, in His attributes, reflected in things, and particularly in man himself. “Man,” says Bahá’u’lláh, “is the supreme Talisman. Lack of a proper education hath, however, deprived him of that which he doth inherently possess.”

For this reason the divine attributes are so often recalled in the Bahá’í writings (the Most Powerful, the All-Glorious, and so on) and are also personified in transcendental symbols, exactly as in the long passage from Gleanings that I have quoted above: Throne, Handmaiden, Mention, Chalice of light, Veil, Cause, Scroll, Hand, Sinai of Revelation, Names (the King of Names, which are the attributes themselves, and God is the King of Names, and so on).

Therefore, the Bahá’í God can be graphically represented as follows:

Transcendant area	UNKNOWABLE GOD
Area knowable by spiritual experience	NAMES THRONE MAID OF HEAVEN SINAI VEIL CHALICE SCROLL....
Visible and material area knowable by all	Manifestations in the Human Temple
Human minds	Names Throne, etc. (Same concepts, but reflected, and vivifying men)

That is, the Manifestations, even if all the divine attributes are concentrated in them, show more of some attributes than of others according to the exigencies of the time, among men, thus vivifying their souls.

SUCH GRADATION and complexity is evident also in the psychological field, in the study of the human soul and of its depth (the real depths, not the muddy ones which alone seem to interest a certain modern psychology). I propose again an interesting passage from a Tablet of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá:

[Page 42]

Know that spirit in general is divided into five sorts—the vegetable spirit, the animal spirit, the human spirit, the spirit of faith, and the divine spirit of sanctity.

The vegetable spirit is the virtue augmentative, or growing or vegetative faculty, which results from the admixture of the simple elements, with the co-operation of water, air and heat.

The animal spirit is the virtue perceptive resulting from the admixture and absorption of the vital elements generated in the heart, which apprehend sense-impressions.

The human spirit consists of the rational, or logical, reasoning faculty, which apprehends general ideas and things intelligible and perceptible.

Now these “spirits” are not reckoned as Spirit in the terminology of the Scriptures and the usage of the people of the Truth, inasmuch as the laws governing them are as the laws which govern all phenomenal being (i.e., all existences belonging to the phenomenal or material universe, called “the world of generation and corruption”), in respect to generation, corruption, production, change and reversion, as is clearly indicated in the Gospel where it says: “Let the dead bury their dead;” “That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is Spirit”. . . .

In brief, for these three spirits there is no restitution or “return,” but they are subordinate to reversions and production and corruption.

But the Spirit of Faith which is of the Kingdom (of God) consists of the all-comprehending Grace and the perfect attainment (or salvation, fruition, achievement) and the power of sanctity and the divine effulgence from the Sun of Truth on luminous light-seeking essences from the presence of the divine Unity. And by this Spirit is the life of the spirit of man, when it is fortified thereby, as Christ saith: “That which is born of the Spirit is Spirit.” And this Spirit hath both restitution and return, inasmuch as it consists of the Light of God and the unconditioned Grace. So, having regard to this state and station, Christ announced that John the Baptist was Elias, who was to come before Christ (Matt. 11:14). And the likeness of this station is as that of lamps kindled (from one another): for these in respect to their glasses and oil-holders, are different, but in respect to their light, One, and in respect to their illumination, One; nay, each one is identical with the other, without imputation of plurality, or diversity or multiplicity or separateness. . . .

But as to the question of the Trinity, know . . . that in each one of the cycles . . . there are necessarily three things: The Giver of the Grace, and the Grace, and the Recipient of the Grace; the Source of the Effulgence, and the Effulgence, and the Recipient of the Effulgence; the Illuminator, and the Illumination, and the Illuminated. Look at the Mosaic cycle: The Lord, and Moses, and the Fire (i.e., the burning bush), the Intermediary; and [at] the Messianic cycle: The Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost the Intermediary; and in the Mohammedan cycle: The Lord, the Apostle (or Messenger, Mohammed), and Gabriel (for, as the Mohammedans believe, Gabriel brought the Revelation from God to Mohammed). Look at the sun and its rays and the heat which results from its rays; the rays and the heat are but two effects of the sun, but inseparable from it; yet the sun is [Page 43] one in its essence, unique in its real identity, single in its attributes, neither is it possible that anything should resemble it. Such is the essence of the Truth concerning the Unity, the real doctrine of the Singularity, the undiluted reality as to the (Divine) Sanctity.

THEREFORE, the difficulty that Westerners experience in fully understanding the style of the Bahá’í writings lies in out having lost the living sense of the tripartition of reality: Unknowable God, World of Symbols, material world. For us, reality is, at best (that is, the few existing real believers) double— namely, this world and the other, soul and body, and so on, at worst, single— namely, the material world alone. Thus we perceive entities that are here the Names, the Pen, the Scroll, Sinai, the Tree of Paradise, the Dove, the Maid of Heaven, and so on, either in a too material sense, and then they seem to be oddities (in the case of the unitary materialist); or else we do not see the necessity of them when God is everything, and then they seem to be useless gewgaws (in the case of the dualistic believer). The Hindus (the traditional Hindus), however, have perhaps too many intermediary grades themselves in their theology and tend to personify them too much, make them pass from the state of real symbols to that of “gods.” And we must not forget one last crucial point adumbrated in the preceding outline. For Bahá’ís these symbols are once again even visibly real. An expression like: “the dove of eternity sings on the branches of the Ṭúbá tree (the name of a tree symbolic of Muslim paradise)” is susceptible of three levels of interpretation:

a) realistic level: in a pretty garden on a verdant tree a dove sings fascinating melodies.

b) mystic-symbolic level: in the Gardens of Paradise, outside of this lowly world, saints and blessed ones sing praises of God.

c) realistic-symbolic level: Bahá’u’lláh at an exact moment in our time sends forth into the world a renewing spirit that will recreate it and give it form again in unitary visible forms, revealing His Writings in a definite place in the earth (the vicinity of Mt. Carmel). The spatial and temporal concreteness, therefore, remains but makes itself translucent with eternity.

This is the true significance also of the style of Bahá’í texts (including the frequent capital letters, which are displeasing to some), a style that seems difficult to us, precisely because, we repeat, we have in general lost the symbolic dimension of reality. But it is difficult, we repeat, even for the believers themselves, because quite often they too have lost something: the living sense of the three-ness of being, reducing it to a mere elementary duality.

[Page 44]

[Page 45]

The Importance of Meditation to Faith

BY DAVID M. GOODMAN

The wine of renunciation must needs be quaffed, the lofty heights of detachment must needs be attained, and the meditation referred to in the words “One hour’s reflection is preferable to seventy years of pious worship” must needs be observed. . . .

—Bahá’u’lláh

THESE WORDS contain a formula for divine living—renunciation, detachment, and meditation. Bahá’u’lláh wished all His followers to understand that the purpose of life cannot be fulfilled solely within a material order. He called everyone to a spiritual reality that must be lived. While disavowing monastic ways, Bahá’ís strive to apply these principles, specifically those of renunciation and detachment, to activities of service, teaching, prayer, and firmness in the covenant of their Faith. Together these activities constitute a series of rightful actions that form a core experience in which all Bahá’ís can share.

Too few Bahá’ís, especially in the West, seem to appreciate the profound and special importance of the third element of this trinity—meditation. Standard definitions offer little help; they tend to confuse meditation with prayer or any number of deep, intellectual activities. It seems fairly clear by His reference to meditation as “preferable to seventy years of pious worship” that Bahá’u’lláh intended to convey an activity distinct from all others. Indeed, the Interpreter of the Prophet of God, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, writes that “The spirit of man is itself informed and strengthened during meditation; through it affairs of which man knew nothing are unfolded before his view.”

Just as the principles of renunciation and detachment have been endowed with certain activities that serve to illumine their spiritual significance, so too meditation must become integral to every spiritual regimen. Without lessening the value of renunciation or detachment, meditation may in fact be at this moment the most essential activity of the three. One is regularly reminded of the spiritual hunger plaguing the world. Opinion polls document a resurgence of religious activity. People search for meaningful alternatives to the dulling standards of materialism. The traditional division of mind and body, so basic to the Western view of the world, is found to be inadequate. To mind and body must be added the dimension of spirit. But the recognition comes slowly; many are held back from what they must see as a leap from the known, the comfortable, and, alas, the material to “heaven knows what.” To transform “heaven knows what” into the spiritual reality of “what we know of heaven,” people need a bridge to assure them that their leap becomes a safe crossing. Or, to change metaphors, they need a means to clean away the dust from the window of perception.

The difficulty many seekers have in accepting and embracing the transcendent reality of the spirit arises from the veils [Page 46] of ignorance, the dust, that cloud the way to self-knowledge. Veils of ignorance separate the knower from the known, from that which is eternal. Bahá’u’lláh says meditation is the way to remove the separation. With typical simplicity and directness ‘Abdu’l-Bahá adds, “This faculty of meditation . . . puts man in touch with God.”

In this context, let me define meditation as the intermediate course between one’s rightful actions in daily life and the infinite, unknowable Source one calls God. While one remains his finite self, he gains during his period of meditation a brief moment of the infinite. Meditation is an activity one practices; it is something one does to himself to strengthen himself, to make himself an instrument to receive God. If one likens himself to a radio receiver, meditation becomes the fine tuning of his human channel to receive the highest, previously unknown frequencies.

My intent is to suggest the importance of meditation to peoples of faith, especially to Bahá’ís. I do not speak in behalf of any technique or tradition. The choice of a path is left to the individual. The cross-cultural exchanges between the East and West, so pronounced since the Second World War, allow “the varieties of the meditative experience” to flourish. So prevalent are they and so much a part of our popular culture that several “catalogs” to meditation are found on the shelves of libraries and bookstores. This consumerist approach may seem offensive to an otherwise serious and spiritual subject, but it serves to reinforce a fundamental point: the seeker has an opportunity to make an independent inquiry into truth. At the same time, I should warn against books that promise to teach meditation. Meditation cannot be self-taught. It requires careful instruction.

In choosing a path some trial and error may be necessary. Starting and maintaining with regularity a meditative practice is the important first step. With such discipline, the likelihood of success is great. I can make this assertion, without favoring one tradition over another, because at a fundamental level all forms of meditation possess an essential unity. For Bahá’ís to whom the unity of religions is a creed such a realization will add a bounty to their practice. While the Bahá’í writings are rich in references to meditation, the apparent lack of a particular tradition frees Bahá’ís to incorporate the knowledge of other techniques into their lives without difficulty or conflict. As I noted earlier, Bahá’u’lláh enjoins all peoples to meditate.

[Page 47] PUBLIC ATTENTION to meditation in recent years has centered on a series of alleged benefits to physical health and mental well-being. These claims appear to be neither fanciful nor ploys to attract the unsuspecting initiate. Respected journals, such as Scientific American and The New England Journal of Medicine, have agreed that the scientific and medical applications of meditation are worthy of attention. Clinical tests support the conclusion that regular and sustained use of a meditative technique tends to result in discernible physiological and psychological improvements in the practitioner—in short, a sound mind and body. Meditation appears to free the nervous system of accumulated stress, allowing the body and mind to function more normally and coherently.

While everyone welcomes good health, to the spiritual seeker this benefit assumes a second dimension: the body has traditionally been regarded as the seat of consciousness, the temple of the soul. Cleansed of stress, of the clouds of ignorance, this instrument of one’s humanity cannot fail to illumine the spiritual essence that is the core of one’s being. Whether one chooses the language of the scientist or of the religionist, the reconciliation of which Bahá’ís hold as a central concern, students of meditation are drawn away from a fragmented point of view, which sees matter in opposition to spirit, to a holistic framework where they are observed as a continuum.

Apart from recent physical evidence, I note the venerable body of opinion that has long supported a relationship between meditative practices and creativity. Einstein wrote unhesitatingly about “cosmic consciousness.” Blake and Wordsworth drew upon a poetic muse both for literary inspiration and, so it would appear, for spiritual sustenance. Indeed, as we progress up the ladder of creation from our physical selves, to our creative and inspired selves, and ultimately to the spiritual realm, the association of the meditative faculty with the highest levels of achievement remains constant. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá speaks directly to this point:

Through the faculty of meditation man attains to eternal life; through it he receives the breath of the Holy Spirit—the bestowal of the Spirit is given during reflection and meditation.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The meditative faculty is akin to the mirror; if you put it before earthly objects it will reflect them. Therefore if the spirit of man is contemplating earthly subjects he will be informed of these.

But if you turn the mirror of your spirits heavenwards, the heavenly constellations and the rays of the Sun of Reality will be reflected in your hearts, and the virtues of the Kingdom will be obtained.

Implicit in this statement is the recognition that meditation can lead potentially to a higher and more profound form of knowledge, that the knower, with regular [Page 48] devotion and practice, can receive “the virtues of the Kingdom.” A short Bahá’í prayer, one of several revealed for daily use, begins, “I bear witness, O my God, that Thou hast created me to know Thee and to worship Thee.” Separate the phrase “to know Thee” from the prayer momentarily and examine it in the light of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s talk on meditation. Prayer itself is a basic form of communion with God; indeed, “to know Thee” conveys the meaning of prayer. Yet, I also have acknowledged that there are many levels of knowledge—from the superficial to the most profound. Meditation, when used properly, according to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, promises that knowledge will be profound and eternal. “The breath of the Holy Spirit” quickens one’s pace; meditation intensifies one’s experience. The words “to know Thee” are for the meditator experienced with greater intensity; they are received by a more finely tuned instrument, perhaps, even on a higher frequency. But it is a height accessible to everyone and, if the individual can simply sustain a thought, within everyone’s grasp.

Prayer (communion with God) and meditation (the intensification of this experience) are thus integrated into a greater whole. God remains the exalted One, but He is now received by spiritual eyes cleansed of all dust. One experiences the luminosity of heaven within himself. “The revelation of that inner Light within them [all created things]” becomes a personal and, when shared by a community of seekers, a collective reality.

Prayer and meditation combine to form an inward aspect of supplication to complement the outward aspect, the rightful actions represented by renunciation and detachment. The two must always remain in careful balance. Imbalance toward the outward aspect encourages virtuous living but little attention to the inner light. Moved to the other extreme one risks self-indulgent introspection. Balanced in a divine formula—renunciation, detachment, and meditation—Bahá’u’lláh has assured one’s success.

I have sought to distinguish the Western experience from that of other cultures. Meditative practices until fairly recently have been largely alien to the West; indeed, pockets of resistance to their legitimacy are still noticeable. The traditional (that is, the postmedieval) approach among religions of the West has been a reliance on the outward aspects of supplication or “good works,” although in fairness not to the complete exclusion of the inner light. Experiences emphasizing the latter have usually been relegated to the fringe of these religions; likewise, meditation has been regarded as a remote experience preferred by mystics and others lacking in practical virtues. To the extent that Bahá’ís in the West participate in their own cultures they may be able to see expressions of this pattern. While the Faith reveals its Eastern origins in the prominence accorded to meditation in the Bahá’í writings, many Western believers seem not to appreciate the distinct activity that is implied or, at least, to have found ways to bring it into their lives. Non-Western peoples would rarely have made this mistake or have been prone to this omission. For them meditation denotes specific paths and traditions. My purpose has been to call attention to this reality [Page 49] and in a modest way to hope that the ground may be made fertile for its acceptance, if not incorporation, into the lives of Bahá’ís in the West.

The West has traditionally excelled in the areas of logic and reasoning, especially in the scientific and technical applications of these faculties. Westerners seem to have an affinity for restructuring the natural order and human experience; in the eyes of many non-Western peoples, engineering is one profession that epitomizes the West. As these qualities bear upon my subject, I may hope to see them exercised fully and compassionately in the creation of the Bahá’í administrative order and commonwealth. But the unity of self and other to which Bahá’u’lláh exhorts one requires that one couple and bring into harmony as profoundly as possible his outward and inward aspects. To this end one should borrow freely from non-Western traditions, from the subjective sciences of meditation, from those who see “the universe as alive and everything in it as a manifestation of some form of cosmic intelligence.”

[Page 50]

[Page 51]

Remembering Some Early Bahá’ís

A REVIEW OF O. Z. WHITEHEAD’S Some Early Bahá’ís of the West (OXFORD: GEORGE RONALD, 1976), XII + 214 PAGES, NOTES, AND REFERENCES

BY FIRUZ KAZEMZADEH

THE LIVES of the early disciples of a religion are of infinite interest to later generations. Veiled in their impenetrable antiquity, the great religions of the past jealously guard their secrets. In Hinduism biography and mythology have virtually become one. Judaism, Zoroastrianism, and Christianity provide but a few tantalizing hints of the lives of the men and women who were among the first to follow Moses, Zoroaster, or Jesus. The companions of Muḥammad are somewhat better known; but even they are rather distant and mysterious figures.

The early history of the Bahá’í Faith, on the contrary, is rich in historical and biographical material. Only a few years ago there still lived Bahá’ís who had seen Bahá’u’lláh. Even today there must be hundreds who remember ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. Though the laborious and slow task of collecting documents has just begun, tens of thousands of letters, large numbers of diaries and memoirs, and folders full of miscellaneous records both of individuals and of Bahá’í institutions have already been gathered in various archives in the United States and abroad. The tasks of arranging, classifying, cataloguing, and making these materials available will take many decades.

Mr. O. Z. Whitehead’s essays published in Some Early Bahá’ís of the West are not based on archival sources. They are an attempt to sketch the lives of a number of outstanding Bahá’ís of Britain and the United States rather than of the West as the title promises. The chapters comprising the book were first published in the Bahá’í News and will be familiar to that journal’s readers.

Mr. Whitehead does not pretend that he is writing scholarly biography. His sketches are impressionistic, highly selective, and entirely uncritical. His purpose is not to establish facts, provide historical background, or show each individual as a multidimensional human being. It is rather to convey his own feelings about early Bahá’ís of whom he had heard from their friends or whom he had known personally. Anyone who had the pleasure of meeting Juliet Thompson, the Kinneys, Ella Cooper, or Roy Wilhelm, to mention only those I myself have met, could not help but fall captive to their most unusual qualities. Upon each one of them ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had made an indelible impression, and each one had the power to reflect in some measure the love that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had showered on all.

The limitations inherent in the format of a short magazine article harm the book. Twelve pages of text is not enough even to introduce Thornton Chase, the first American Bahá’í. Helen Goodall and Ella Cooper together are alloted fourteen pages, the Kinneys twelve, John Esslemont ten. One cannot expect more than the most cursory treatment in such narrow confines. Excessive compression has many dangers. Thornton Chase, Phoebe Hearst, Roy Wilhelm, and the others, were far more complex than one would imagine from reading Mr. Whitehead’s adulatory accounts. The form has hurt the substance, flattening, deindividualizing, and, therefore, distorting the subjects. As one reads on, they begin to resemble one another [Page 52] and to lose their distinctive characteristics. Still, the book has value. The author’s sincerity, his admiration for truly admirable individuals, and his devotion to their memory are bound to evoke a positive response in readers who meet these early Bahá’ís for the first time in Some Early Bahá’ís of the West. Such readers will catch the flavor of those remarkable lives and will be stimulated to investigate them further. Mr. Whitehead is a pioneer, and pioneering has ever been risky. Those who will follow him into the realm of Bahá’í biography will have many advantages he did not have. However, they will not be the first to tell the stories of some early Bahá’ís of the West.

[Page 53]

Authors & Artists

ALESSANDRO BAUSANI, a renowned Orientalist, is Professor of Persian Literature and Islamistics at Rome University and author of many books and articles. His “The Religious Crisis of the Modern World” appeared in our Spring 1968 issue.

DAVID M. GOODMAN, who holds a doctorate from Clarke University, is a lecturer in the history department of and the assistant director of the Office of Research and Project Administration at Princeton University. He has served as the project manager of a community guidebook to event planning, supervised the preproduction aspects of a U.S. government publication applying archaeological techniques to youth activities, and coordinated a Federal planning grant to develop a proposal for national neighborhood humanities programs in urban ethnic neighborhoods. He has a number of publications related to a variety of positions he has held: program officer for the American Revolution Bicentennial Administration, director of research and evaluation for the Bicentennial Youth Debates, editor for the National Endowment for the Humanities. He makes a first appearance in World Order.

ROBERT HAYDEN, a professor of English at the University of Michigan, served for two years as consultant in poetry to the Library of Congress. In 1971 he was awarded the Russell Loines Award for poetry by the National Institute of Arts and Letters and in 1975 received an award from the Academy of American Poets. This year he was elected to the American Academy Institute of Arts and Letters. Mr. Hayden’s works of poetry include American Journal, Angle of Ascent, The Night-Blooming Cereus, Words in the Mourning Time, Kaleidoscope, Heart-Shape in the Dust, Figure of Time, and A Ballad of Remembrance, which won the grand prize at the first World Festival of Negro Arts in Dakar, Senegal, in 1962.

MARY H. HEDIN is a professor of English at College of Marin in Kentfield, California. She has published many short stories, her favorite being “Places We Lost,” which was anthologized in Best American Short Stories, 1966, and which has been translated into many languages. Her “Inheritance: In a Churchyard in Sweden” appeared in our Fall 1978 issue.

FIRUZ KAZEMZADEH is a professor of history at Yale University and editor of World Order.

KAZEM KAZEMZADEH, a graduate of Moscow University, has lived and worked on three continents as diplomat, lawyer, and university teacher. He served for many years on the National Spiritual Assembly of Iran and now lives in retirement in California, devoting his time to the study of Bahá’í writings and history.

HODA MAHMOUDI makes a first appearance in World Order. A teaching assistant in the Department of Sociology at the University of Utah, she is completing her doctorate in the sociology of organizations, medical sociology, and cross-national research, with a dissertation on structural organizations in Iran. Ms. Mahmoudi is interested in sociological analyses of various aspects of the Bahá’í Faith and in research on work and problems of dissatisfaction and alienation. She has published “The Relation of Study Behaviors and Employment to Academic Performance” in Psychological Reports.

ERNEST D. MASON is an associate professor of English and humanities and director of the Honors Center at North Carolina Central University in Durham. He holds B.A. and M.A. degrees from that University and a Ph.D. from Emory University. His interests include Afro-American Studies, race relations, ethics, value theory, aesthetics, cultural hermeneutics, and the history of philosophy. Dr. Mason has three essays on Alain Locke scheduled for publication in 1979; an essay on the culture of the Afro-Arnerican will appear in an anthology (Humanities in the Modern World) to be published by D. C. Heath in 1980.

ART CREDITS: Cover, design by John Solarz, photograph by Glenford E. Mitchell; p. 5, photographs, courtesy Bahá’í National Archives; p. 9, photograph by John Paul Vader; p. 10, photograph by Richard Thompson; p. 15, photograph by Richard Thompson; p. 24, photograph by Camille O’Reilly; p. 35, photograph by Scott Stafford; p. 44, photograph by Glenford E. Mitchell; p. 50, photograph by Chris Cholas.

[Page 54]