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Spring 1979

World Order

Out of Iran:

A Call for Tolerance

Editorial

Health and Healing

Hossain B. Danesh

International Health Work

Alfred K. Neumann and

Irvin M. Lourie

Problems of Chronology in

Bahá’u’lláh’s Tablet of Wisdom

Juan Ricardo Cole

Looking at Children’s Literature

Dorothy Garey

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World Order

A BAHÁ’Í MAGAZINE • VOLUME 13, NUMBER 3 • 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 by the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States, 415 Linden Avenue, Wilmette, IL 60091. Application to Mail at Second-class postage rates is pending at Wilmette, IL. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to WORLD ORDER, 415 Linden Avenue, Wilmette, IL 60091.

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

2 Out of Iran: A Call for Tolerance

Editorial

4 Interchange: Letters from and to the Editor

9 International Health Work

by Alfred K. Neumann and

Irvin M. Lourie

15 Health and Healing

by Hossain B. Danesh

24 Problems of Chronology in Bahá’u’lláh’s

Tablet of Wisdom, by Juan Ricardo Cole

41 Looking at Children’s Literature

by Dorothy Garey

52 Authors and Artists in This Issue

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Out of Iran: A Call for Tolerance

ALL FORMS of bigotry and fanaticism are heinous. Religious intolerance is particularly revolting for it betrays that which it purports to defend. The gentle teachings of Jesus were mocked by the armored knights who murdered and pillaged in His name, by all the Torquemadas who consigned heretics to the flames in savage deeds they called auto-da-fé, by “most Christian” rulers who massacred infidels. The words of Muḥammad, Who taught that there must be no compulsion in matters of religion, were cast aside by those followers who forced reluctant subjects to profess a faith they did not experience.

Century after century, age after age, men continued in their criminal folly until religion itself began to be suspect in many minds. The fact that atheistic and neopagan societies have been equally or even more intolerant and bloodthirsty does not excuse the evil, does not diminish the pain inflicted on humanity by religious fanaticism.

There is a special poignancy in the recurrent suffering to which the Bahá’ís have been subject in the land where their Faith was born, for no Prophet has taught tolerance, brotherhood, and unity more insistently than Bahá’u’lláh:

That the divers communions of the earth [He proclaimed], and the manifold systems of religious belief, should never be allowed to foster the feelings of animosity among men, is, in this Day, of the essence of the Faith of God and His Religion. . . .

Gird up the loins of your endeavor, O people of Bahá, that haply the tumult of religious dissension and strife that agitateth the peoples of the earth may be stilled. . . . Religious fanaticism and hatred are a world-devouring fire, whose violence none can quench. . . .

The utterance of God is a lamp, whose light are these words: Ye are the fruits of one tree, and the leaves of one branch. Deal ye one with another with the utmost love and harmony, with friendliness and fellowship. . . .

Consort with all men, O people of Bahá, in a spirit of friendliness and fellowship. If ye be aware of a certain truth, if ye possess a jewel, of which others are deprived, share it with them in a language of utmost kindliness and good-will. If it be accepted, if it fulfill its purpose, your object is attained. If anyone should refuse it, leave him unto himself, and beseech God to guide him. Beware lest ye deal unkindly with him.

These words are at the heart of Bahá’u’lláh’s Message. They animate Bahá’í communities throughout the world and establish the clear standard of right and wrong. To disregard these injunctions is to open the door to that “world-devouring fire, whose violence none can quench.”

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Interchange LETTERS FROM AND TO THE EDITOR

THE EDITORS are happy to announce that they are preparing for publication in the next several issues long articles (which will eventually appear as a book) on Louis G. Gregory, one of the most outstanding Bahá’ís in this century. Louis Gregory, grandson of a slave, rose to a position of eminence in the Bahá’í community and made fundamental contributions as a speaker, teacher, and inspirer. He was one of the first to launch the struggle for racial unity that has become the hallmark of the Bahá’í community in the United States and in the world. Ms. Gayle Morrison, a former editor of WORLD ORDER known to our readers through articles and reviews, has delved into primary sources to produce a work that will set a standard for Bahá’í historical research for some time to come. Her biography of Louis Gregory both illuminates the history of the growth of the Bahá’í Faith in the United States and explores the life of an extraordinary individual who contributed much to that growth. The series of articles promises to be of great interest and lasting value.

* * *

To the Editor

LITERATE AT LAST

I was first introduced to WORLD ORDER seven years ago when I first became a Bahá’í. I subscribed because I wanted to gain from the diverse views of the articles contained therein.

In some of the early issues I “looked through” there seemed to be quite a few letters to the editor complaining about the style of writing, the “intellectual” content; in short, the magazine was too difficult for these people to understand, and they suggested that the standard be lowered to their level. The editors, of course, most kindly explained that although the intent of WORLD ORDER is certainly not to intellectualize issues, nevertheless, the standard of scholarly excellence should be maintained. (These are, of course, paraphrases of what I remember of those letters.) I was one of those people who could not understand the articles and such in WORLD ORDER. Still feeling that it was important to try, I kept the subscription and now have a pile of magazines which I have never read.

I used to attend deepenings on God Passes By, The Advent of Divine Justice, and The World Order of Bahá’u’lláh and at times had to leave the room because I simply could not grasp the excellence of Shoghi Effendi’s style. It would actually bring tears to my eyes that a paragraph could be read and I would have no idea what was said.

I am an intelligent woman but at the time of my entry into the Bahá’í Faith had an extremely difficult time reading and comprehending almost everything, including newspapers and magazines. The insatiable desire to learn, however, has won out. It has taken years, and tears, but now not only can I read the writings of Shoghi Effendi and comprehend, but I just recently thoroughly enjoyed reading what I believe is the first issue of WORLD ORDER I have ever completed cover to cover!

How grateful I am to you all for maintaining the standard of excellence. Through concentration, persistence, and constant effort, reading and comprehension of scholarly material has become a reality. At a time when so very many of our compatriots are functionally illiterate or semiliterate, we as Bahá’ís, who believe so strongly in the education of all mankind, must strive to drastically improve our [Page 5] own reading habits. And why not start with the writings of Shoghi Effendi (with a dictionary at hand!), which are an education in themselves.

I intend to start reading my back issues of WORLD ORDER and do most certainly look forward to seeing the issues brought up to date so as to enjoy every one!

PATRICIA M. WHYTE

Atlantic Heights, New Jersey

BAHÁ’Í EPISTEMOLOGY

. . . I was able to see and to borrow the Spring 1978 copy of WORLD ORDER, which had the letter in answer to Chouleur’s article [Fall 1977]. Very beautifully covering all the points of “reservation” made by Chouleur. I am particularly interested in Mr. Tuman’s summing up as to why people commit themselves to the Bahá’í Faith: viz, “People do not commit themselves . . . merely because of the literary style . . . or because they feel comfortable with the theology, or agree with the precepts. They join because they are convinced that Bahá’u’lláh is a Manifestation of God and are willing to abide by His teachings. . . .” I ask myself, “Is that why I leapt in” . . . as I did one lovely day in July 1969 when we were having a picnic on one of our picturesque beaches? . . . I think I always knew I’d get around to it eventually.

I am reminded of Martin Buber’s “insight” about the Israelites and the Red Sea; he said, they didn’t wait for the seas to part before they dashed in; they went in, and then, “whatever happened, happened.” That also was a metaphor or symbol for whatever we do in faith (or desperation??); if we waited for certainty, or for results and successes, we would never get there. I knew that the only way I’d find out what the Bahá’í Faith was all about, from own experiences, was to “get in there.” The attraction was certainly the teachings, the precepts, and, of course, the acceptance that the Founder was Who He said He was. I am not one of those who becomes overpowered by the impact of event in the sense described by Mr. McLean in the “Knowledge of God” article [Spring 1978]. (Looking up “Epistemology” for the umpteenth time in our Columbia Encyclopedia, I wrote down every word of the definition, and I think (by Jove) I’ve got it but won’t put myself to the test here by defining it, will just assume that I understand it. (I was surprised by some of the scholastic Bahá’ís around me who humbly declined knowledge of the meaning.) A fascinating article, but when I came across this statement, “it is often desirable to verify intuitive knowledge by the use of critical reason” I could think of no better example of one who did just that than Spinoza. . . . Spinoza is a significant philosopher whose name I have not (yet) come across in WORLD ORDER. Recently I reached for him in my bookcase, after a long interval, and renewed my acquaintance with the passion of his convictions, expressed with so much reason. In the introduction to the Latin translation . . . Frank Sewall writes: “Viewed in relation to his time . . . and to the traditions religious and philosophical with which . . . his generous and youthful nature had to contend, coupled with the gentle and self-sacrificing traits exhibited with friends and foes and his heroic contention for the freedom of thought and belief, the contribution of Spinoza to the humanizing influence of philosophy cannot be denied” and “It is not strange that the epithet attached to Spinoza by Novalis ‘The God-intoxicated’ should. . . .” etc., etc. Hegel called him an acosmist, “as one who, in his vision of that which is the union of the world and God, loses all sight of the world in the fuller vision of God.”

One of the passionate aspects of Spinoza is the belief that only a goal of true goodness can lead to true happiness; why then would not more men seek “goodness,” i.e., “happiness”? Because “all things as they are excellent are as [Page 6] rare as they are difficult.” (Or something to that effect). . .

. . . the impact of his writing is quite overwhelming. Particularly how he sets down the pattern and rules for his own “understanding,” “as the (aspects of) true good became more discernible to me . . . they became more lasting, especially after I recognized that the acquisition of wealth, sensual pleasure, or fame is only a hindrance so long as they are sought as ends, not means; if they be sought as means they will be under restraint. . . He desired to carry “society” along in the goal of the “good,” and the building of “good character.” Surely all this is familiar to one acquainted with Bahá’í writings. Spinoza stated that the Old Testament message was one of “obedience,” that Christ was superior to Moses, and that (alas) he did not think Muḥammad a “true” prophet. Perhaps, for one who believed that we need “adequate ideas” to form right conclusions, his information regarding Muḥammad was not “adequate.” Or the translations he had at hand were not sufficient. But he said (as Muḥammad did) Jesus was the Word of God and not God Himself. For above all Spinoza was antianthropomorphic.

Well, that must cover whatever points I am trying to make regarding Spinoza in relation to “The Knowledge of God” article, which was based on, after all, “Bahá’í Epistemology.”

“The good which every man, who follows virtue, desires for himself he will also desire for others, and so much the more as he has a greater knowledge of God.”—Spinoza.

Yet I cannot resist one more sentence from Spinoza, that “In other words it is part of my happiness to lend a helping hand, that many others may understand even as I do, so that their understanding and desire may agree with my own.”

RAE PERLIN

St. John’s, Newfoundland, Canada

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International Health Work

BY ALFRED K. NEUMANN AND IRVIN M. LOURIE

IMMENSE SATISFACTION may be derived from a career of service in international health, for one has the reward of knowing that his teaching efforts and practical field work are bringing about changes for the better in the health, welfare, and quality of life both for the individual and the community. Yet success and satisfaction is largely dependent upon the health worker’s willing acceptance of the challenges, demands, frustrations, and responsibilities of the work and his adaptability to the life style it entails. Still, the impact an assignment in international health work can have upon a community in a less-developed country provides a deeply rewarding, although often trying, experience. Such a project is spiritually elevating as well as emotionally and professionally satisfying, for such service performed by an individual who is sincerely interested in his fellowman constitutes an expression of worship: who can wish for more in his profession and daily work?

A question often asked by the international health worker is: “Will I be accepted by the people?” The answer is usually “yes,” if the health worker approaches the opportunity with a proper attitude. He must not enter the country thinking that he alone will bring about great changes or show the people the “right way.” Indeed, a primary problem is determining the “right way” for any one particular situation. The health worker must build upward from an established community base, rather than impose a superstructure of good ideas on a foundation not ready to accept it. This building process requires patience and equanimity.

It is very important to have a firm philosophical basis for one’s work, particularly because the frustrations accompanying international work are sometimes almost overwhelming. A strong sense of purpose is essential if one is both to persevere and remain effective.

If man is to have an ever-advancing civilization that will preserve ideals of justice for all, it is incumbent upon more fortunate nations and individuals to give of their resources, knowledge, and expertise for the benefit of others. The reciprocal of this dictum is that less-endowed nations and individuals have an obligation to work toward their own advancement within the constraints imposed by hindrances of geography, climate, and the human condition. Inherent in this sharing relationship is a need for substantial and sustained transfer of resources from the wealthier to the less-wealthy countries. Simultaneously, all countries must undertake internal measures to avoid extremes of wealth and poverty, observing equity in the supply of health services as in all other aspects of communal life.

The problems of inadequate diet, shelter, and clothing, of poor health and insufficient education—to name but a few of the adversities that affect 60 to 70 percent of the world’s population now living at or near poverty levels—are essentially due to moral, ethical, and social problems rather than inadequate world resources. Nations currently spend at least 15 billion U.S. dollars per year on all forms of constructive technical assistance. Concurrently, more than twenty times this amount is spent annually on military and related expenditures. Man looks forward to the time when the nations will realize that there are no victors in today’s wars and that by forming one effective world superstate with an autonomous peace-keeping force the current ratios of expenditures between construction and destruction will be reversed. Thus the authors’ firm rejoinder to those who see the gap between developed and less-developed [Page 10] countries as inevitably widening and who view technical assistance work with a sense of hopelessness is one of sharp disagreement. If man has the will to do so, world resources are sufficient for correcting current imbalances.

The sharing of human skills, through consultation, demonstration, and training, is another aspect of technical assistance that has a far-reaching impact. The redistribution and sharing of material and human resources will require generations of constructive collaboration on the part of governments and peoples of all countries concerned.

Only in recent years have expenditures on health services for the masses begun to be regarded as economically valuable—as an investment in the development of humanity— rather than as a luxury or a political necessity. Hence, it is cogent to pose the question of the economic rationale for technical assistance and the justification for expenditures on health services. Two fundamental issues, often overlooked, should be dealt with. One concerns the role of health in national development. The second concerns the justification of more developed countries providing less developed countries with technical health assistance.

Health and Economic Development

ACCORDING TO the World Health Organization health should mean the optimal level of physical and mental well-being, not just the absence of illness. For the purposes of this paper the concept of health achievement for a people includes the prevention and cure of illness as well as nutrition and family planning, thus encompassing the broad aspects of health within a contemporary definition.

Perhaps the first and most important contribution of health services to a country’s development is ensuring the attainment of the full genetic potential of its people through providing adequate nourishment to pregnant women and to children. Increasing evidence indicates that children who are born to malnourished mothers and are then not properly fed following birth, particularly during the first year of life, may have fewer or improperly developed brain cells than do children adequately fed after birth and whose mothers were well-nourished. Moreover, the evidence indicates that this early damage is irreparable.

A second vital contribution to health services is the provision of adequate nutrition and disease control, particularly for children. It has been demonstrated that children learn better and that adults work more productively when their diets are qualitatively and quantitatively adequate. For example, children with iron and vitamin deficiencies do not learn as well as do children with normal hemoglobin and normal vitamin levels. The effects of infection may also diminish learning ability in children. Untreated chronic ear infection and trachoma can damage hearing and vision respectively to such an extent that the child’s learning ability will be impaired, thus crippling his intellectual capabilities as an adult.

A third and essential contribution is the provision of general health services for adults, including preventive, curative, and rehabilitative services. It has been argued by some economic development experts that, given a large, unskilled, unemployed, and underemployed population, there is limited economic value in increasing the general health status, learning ability, and productivity potential. These experts maintain that work would not be available for greater numbers and that large numbers of low-cost workers can compensate for the low productivity attributed to the ill health of workers. It is becoming increasingly clear that something more than capital is [Page 11] needed to facilitate the development and the advancement of humanity on a broad scale. Post World War II research comparing and evaluating the returns of technical assistance to Europe after the War and technical assistance to less-developed countries revealed Europe’s greater capacity for utilizing foreign assistance effectively. This was ostensibly due to the high literacy levels in European countries; moreover, prewar Europe was already industrialized. It is apparent that at least some degree of industrialization must take place if nations are to develop socially and economically. This requires an increasing level of education, technical training, and development of practical experience at all socioeconomic levels in developing countries. The collective value of workers may thus be increased through this process of building up “human capital”—an investment that must necessarily be protected through health services that will ensure optimal health, increase the life span, and maximize human productivity.

Any justification of international technical assistance programs must begin with the principle that it is unjust for a few to enjoy so much while the majority have so little, particularly when a more judicious deployment of the world’s resources could vastly improve the condition of the poor with little or no adverse impact on the lives of the more affluent. As has been mentioned above, the development process is enhanced by improvements in health services; similarly, one can support health area technical assistance primarily on economic grounds. Mass markets, one of the by-products of development, enhance business, permit economies of larger scale, and enable business to sell better products for less while still making an adequate profit. It is sound business practice to assist the less-developed countries to advance their economic potentials. Economic development, which the developing country comes to direct and sustain, can increase its ability to produce competitively priced, quality goods that other countries will purchase and thereby increase its own purchasing power and ability to procure foreign-made goods.

A satisfactory, at best high, health status is an essential prerequisite for the attainment of productivity potentials and equitable economic circumstances. Long-existing double standards with respect to health services, resulting in poor health among lower socioeconomic groups, are gradually becoming a single standard, with the increasingly widespread commitment to a goal of optimal health services and health status for all.

Principal Health Problems of Developing Countries

IF ONE IS TO PLAY a useful role in international health work, he should appreciate the importance of preventive services and have a basic understanding of the principal health problems; for, despite advances made since World War II, many such problems remain. The leading causes of illness and disability in developing countries are protein-calorie malnutrition, iron and vitamin A and C deficiencies, malaria, schistosomiasis (snail fever) and other worm infections, other parasitic diseases, measles, diarrheal diseases, tetanus, trachoma, middle ear and upper respiratory infections, hypertension, and, as a special case, accidents. Most of these conditions primarily affect children under fifteen, who comprise 40 to 50 percent of the population in most developing countries; almost all of these illnesses have common characteristics: they occur with regularity in slightly varying combinations throughout the less-developed nations; they are debilitating; they are costly to cure; and they are relatively inexpensive to prevent. The apparent solution is then to develop preventive services as quickly as possible.

Approaches to Solving Health Problems

IMPLEMENTATION of preventive health programs is a complex and difficult task. Most people are reluctant to spend money to prevent or minimize the effects of something which might happen. Cost and inconvenience deter many from taking advantage of immunization, health insurance, accident prevention measures, pollution control, preventive dental care, and other preventive measures, such as food protection.

[Page 12] Health ministries, too, may be reluctant to appropriate funds for preventive services. Limited finances, national pride, cost, and keen competition for scarce resources make health budget allocation an arduous task. Health ministries receive their appointed share of funds from the national budget and must then make the difficult decisions as to how the money should be allocated for curative and preventive services. Ministries meet with diverse demands—for example, every region and district wants its own hospital—and funds are never sufficient to satisfy all proposals. It is not uncommon for developing countries to expend 15 to 50 percent of their annual national health budget on modern central hospital and teaching complexes, which ultimately serve only 2 to 5 percent of the population. It would be more cost effective, in terms of providing services to more people for a given expenditure, to decentralize operations, eliminate rare and extensive treatments, and fly the relatively few cases needing these to existing specialty centers.

Pressures from the health professionals themselves may also influence allocation priorities in favor of specialized curative facilities. A great many physicians in the less-developed countries receive their education abroad at the world’s leading medical centers. They return to their country expecting to practice recently learned, sophisticated procedures that require costly and extensive facilities. If these facilities are not available, they may leave the country to practice elsewhere, where conditions may be professionally and financially more rewarding.

Preventive services traditionally do not receive the recognition they merit. Indeed, the small peripheral health centers or mobile teams that usually provide these services are decidedly lacking in prestige. From an administrative standpoint it is difficult to balance services between central and peripheral facilities. It takes a concerted, long-term educational program, backed by data analysis, to convince finance ministries, health ministries, health workers, and the recipients of health services to balance health expenditures judiciously between preventive and curative services.

The issues are complex, and it is clear that no single approach is optimal for all areas of the world. Each country’s health program is the outcome of an interaction of political policy and social, economic, and chance factors, to which must be added the all-important element of trained workers available and the degree of managerial expertise with which they are deployed.

Where resources are scarcest and waste can least be afforded, the highest degree of managerial efficiency is required. However, top and particularly middle-managerial talent is in very short supply in all developing countries, which results in inefficient administration and waste of allocations. Many developing countries have a small but very well-trained elite corps of managers at the top but very few in middle management capable of translating thoughts and plans into workable programs and instructing others to implement them.

Despite these major problems and the day-to-day frustrations that characterize much of life in developing nations, progress and improvement is apparent when one measures health services development and the improvement in health status that has occurred over a period of time. This progress may not be rapid enough to satisfy some well-intentioned groups, who consequently may push too forcefully for change. Such assertiveness may cause sociocultural upheavals, create ill will, and generally produce negative results, for the populace may perceive unsolicited new measures as being “imposed” upon them. What, then, is the course of action to be followed to accelerate health improvement, optimize the development of health services, and prepare prospective health workers in developing countries?

Priorities for Future Action

IN ORDER to make the existing allocations for health services most effective and to put future allocations of money, personnel, training facilities, and materials on a more systematized and rational basis than at present, it is [Page 13] necessary to develop the planning, management, and evaluation aspects of health programs and services. At present, most senior health personnel in all countries are not able to provide adequately the expertise necessary to carry out such administrative functions. Most often the high-ranking personnel are physicians who have risen in rank and seniority because of clinical or epidemiological training and skills but who may lack fundamental administrative or managerial skills and experience.

Thus what is crucially needed in virtually every health service in the world today, in developed as well as less-developed countries, are specialists in planning, managing, and evaluating health services. Competence in systems and cost analysis is required, as well as basic knowledge of modern health information systems and procedures, data processing procedures, and practical aspects of health service delivery. Several options are available in developing the managerial competency of a health ministry or directorate. Existing senior personnel, including selected physicians, can acquire additional specialized health management training. Non-medical professional managers can be specially trained to assume key positions in the future. Foreign technical assistance advisors can assist in management training efforts as well as provide needed planning, management, and evaluation expertise until adequate numbers of nationals are trained. Such management units should function as links to service delivery units rather than as isolated autonomous entities.

Many developed countries are establishing health service planning and management training programs, principally in schools of public health or graduate schools of management. Such programs are uniquely tailored to deal with the contemporary problems of health services in developed and developing countries and are appropriately geared for the basically nonprofit, public-service orientation of the health services. The demand for health specialists who have benefitted from such training, particularly planning and management, should outstrip the supply for many years to come, offering a high-level field of service for those wishing to pursue this demanding profession, the application of which will be instrumental in improving health services throughout the world.

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Health and Healing

BY HOSSAIN B. DANESH

WITH the growing moral and intellectual crisis in the world the confidence of the majority of people in the ability of institutions to fulfill their roles in the affairs of mankind is decreasing at an alarming rate. Parallel to this widespread process of decay, the followers of the Faith of Bahá’u’lláh are erecting new institutions to replace the old. The new institutions, within the framework of the world order of Bahá’u’lláh, will provide appropriate structures for a rapidly maturing humanity and will ensure the responsible, universal, and mature use of available sciences and arts that are the legacy of humanity. However, in the interim period and during the transitional and formative ages, Bahá’ís should focus all of their attention on the process of building the new world order and on preserving and advancing the major achievements of mankind. One such area to be preserved and advanced is medical knowledge and expertise. In studying the Bahá’í Writings on health and healing, one is struck by the clarity, depth, vastness, and specificity with which various aspects of health and healing are approached.

A review of this material is especially timely because of the rapid decline of the authority and credibility of medical science and the medical profession and the emergence of pseudoscientific and antiscientific groups and interests. These new groups, like cancers, are spreading throughout the entire medical field and eating away at its very foundations. Furthermore, many legitimate and competent medical practitioners and researchers find themselves incapable of responding appropriately and soundly to some of the fundamental questions being raised by society regarding health and healing.

It is, therefore, imperative that Bahá’ís, as the engineers of the new world order, free themselves from the prevalent prejudices and fads and dissociate themselves from all the pseudoscientific movements that are increasingly prevalent in their communities. At the same time Bahá’ís should focus their attention on the standards and guidance provided them in the Writings of the Bahá’í Faith.

Review of Bahá’í Writings Regarding Health and Healing

IN A BRIEF REVIEW of the Writings of the Bahá’í Faith on health and healing one can distinguish at least the following major areas:

• The art and science of medicine
• The responsibility and attitude of the individual toward health and sickness
• The responsibility and the attitude of the physician
• Causes and types of illness
• Forms of treatment
• Aspects of mental illness, and
• The prevention of diseases in general

A. The Art and Science of Medicine. The acquisition of arts and sciences is much encouraged in the Bahá’í Faith and is considered as an act of worship. Bahá’u’lláh says: “We have granted you permission to study such sciences as will benefit you, not those which lead to idle disputes. Better is this for you, did ye but know.” Likewise, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, the appointed successor of Bahá’u’lláh and the sole interpreter of His Writings, states: “With the love of God all sciences are accepted and cherished; without it, they are fruitless, nay, rather a cause of madness. Every science is like unto a tree. If the love of God is its fruit, it is a blessed tree; if not, it is dry wood and eventually fuel for fire.” [Page 16] In another statement ‘Abdu’l-Bahá emphasizes the importance of medicine as a science: “You should endeavor to study the science of medicine. . . . Strive day and night that you may become highly qualified in this science. And when you wish to dispense treatment set your heart toward the Abhá Kingdom entreating divine confirmation.”

B. The Responsibilities and the Attitudes of the Individual toward Health and Sickness. There is no doubt that it is the responsibility and duty of every Bahá’í to take good care of his health, to seek the advice of a competent physician when ill, however slight, and to obey completely the orders of the physician. At the same time the sick person will benefit from prayers and should not neglect them. However, neither is sufficient without the other.

Bahá’u’lláh in His Most Holy Book outlines the responsibility of the individual to seek medical advice: “Whenever ye fall ill, refer to competent physicians. Verily, We have not abolished recourse to material means, rather have We affirmed it through this Pen which God hath made the Dawning Place of His luminous and resplendent Cause.” In a Tablet He states: “Whatever the competent physicians or surgeons prescribe for a patient should be accepted and complied with. . . .”

‘Abdu’l-Bahá in a letter to an individual leaves no doubt as to one’s duty: “According to the explicit decree of Bahá’u’lláh one must not turn aside from the advice of a competent doctor. It is imperative to consult one even if the patient himself be a well-known and eminent physician. In short, the point is that you should maintain your health by consulting a highly skilled physician.” The nature and degree of illness should not prevent the individual from obeying the above instructions. A letter written on behalf of Shoghi Effendi, the Guardian of the Bahá’í Faith, states: “You should always bear in mind Bahá’u’lláh’s instruction to the effect that in case of any illness, no matter how slight, we should always seek the help and advice of the most competent physicians.” About one’s attitude toward the treatment prescribed by a physician, Shoghi Effendi states that “Whatever the skilled physicians prescribe is pleasing and acceptable.”

It should be noted, however, that, in respect to one’s health, one’s first duty is to safeguard it. In a letter written on behalf of Shoghi Effendi this point is clearly stated: “You should always bear in mind Bahá’u’lláh’s counsel that we should take the utmost care of our health, surely not because it is an end in itself, but as a necessary means of serving His Cause.”

Furthermore, there is a mysterious relationship between the obedience to the command of God and the process of healing. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá writes: “One must obey the command of God and submit to medical opinion. You undertook this journey to comply with His command and not for the sake of healing, since healing is in the hand of God, not in the hand of doctors.” In another Tablet He States: “It is incumbent upon everyone to seek medical treatment and to follow the doctor’s instructions, for this is in compliance with the divine ordinance, but, in reality, He Who gives healing is God.”

Therefore, one needs to take several specific steps when ill, the most important of which are outlined in a letter written on behalf of Shoghi Effendi:

He fully sympathizes with you in this great sorrow that has afflicted you. At such occasions, the true servants of God should be resigned and try to act wisely, using at the same time all available means to help their loved one who is in distress and is suffering from illness.

Bahá’u’lláh tells us that in case of disease [Page 17] we should pray but at the same time refer to competent physicians, and abide by their considered decisions. Shoghi Effendi wishes you therefore to find whether your son has really become ill, and if he is, then follow the directions of the doctor. Being versed in the medical sciences they can treat better than even a loving mother can. You can render your assistance by praying for him and at the same time helping the physicians to treat him.

In addition, it is important to realize that one should not “passively submit” to illness; rather one should “take the very best care” of himself “under the guidance of the best physicians available.” The necessity for actively seeking treatment, according to a letter written on behalf of Shoghi Effendi, should not be dependent on the gravity of the prognosis: “you did certainly well, however critical and hopeless his daughter’s case may have been considered by the doctors, to advise him to take her to a hospital, and give her the best treatment medical science could possibly offer.”

C. The Responsibilities and Attitudes of the Physician. The physician who is a Bahá’í should obviously follow the basic Teachings of the Faith, among which are the need for belief in the all-encompassing love, mercy, and power of God; the perfection of His creation; and the nobility of man. Therefore, in dealing with his patients, such a physician cannot be arrogant, aloof, and cold, nor can he show partiality, prejudice, and injustice. His ultimate objective must be service to mankind, and he should approach his profession in a spirit of worship. Thus the highest and most universal ethical and moral standards become not only a necessity, but a reality. A physician with such beliefs and values would not only excel in the science and art of medicine but would also become humble and prayerful. The dual responsibilities of attaining excellence in one’s profession and developing a prayerful and spiritual attitude are clearly outlined in the Bahá’í Writings: “Well is it with the physician who cureth the ailments in My hallowed and dearly-cherished Name.” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in several of His Tablets reiterates this statement by Bahá’u’lláh: “O thou sincere servant of the True One and spiritual physician of the people! Whenever thou attendest a patient, turn thy face toward the Lord of the Kingdom, supplicate assistance from the Holy Spirit and heal the ailments of the sick one. . . .” And again: “And when you wish to dispense treatment set your heart toward the Abhá Kingdom entreating divine confirmation.”

The physician must become competent and attain excellence in his profession. In a letter to a physician ‘Abdu’l-Bahá writes: “Thou must endeavor greatly so that thou mayest become unique in thy profession and famous in those parts, because attaining perfection in one’s profession in this merciful period is considered to be worship of God.” In addition, Bahá’u’lláh states that the physician needs to possess the quality of justice: “Whatever the competent physicians or surgeons prescribe for a patient should be accepted and complied with, but they should be adorned with the ornament of justice. If, however, they are endued with divine understanding, it would certainly be preferable and more desirable.” Freedom from prejudice is among the qualities necessary for a physician. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá said: “This is worship: to serve mankind and to minister to the needs of the people. Service is prayer. A physician ministering to the sick, gently, tenderly, free from prejudice and believing in the solidarity of the human race, he is giving praise.” Such a physician would bring hope and joy to the hearts of his patients [Page 18] and thus help them recover. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá gives the following directives to a physician:

When giving medical treatment turn to the Blessed Beauty, then follow the dictates of your heart. Remedy the sick by means of heavenly joy and spiritual exultation, cure the sorely afflicted by imparting to them blissful glad tidings and heal the wounded through His resplendent bestowals. When at the bedside of a patient, cheer and gladden his heart and enrapture his spirit through celestial power. Indeed, such a heavenly breath quickens every mouldering bone and revives the spirit of every sick and ailing one.

He further states that “if a doctor consoles a sick man by saying: ‘Thank God you are better, and there is hope of your recovery,’ though these words are contrary to the truth, yet they may become the consolation of the patient and the turning-point of the illness. This is not blameworthy.” While engaged in serving his patients, the physician who has recognized the truth of the message of Bahá’u’lláh needs to follow this directive of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá: “Thou shouldst continue thy profession and at the same time try to serve the Kingdom of God.”

Finally, the following statement made on behalf of Shoghi Effendi clarifies the essential relationship and the distinction that exists between the spiritual and the scientific aspects of healing and the place of the physician in them: “There is no such thing as Bahá’í healers or a Bahá’í type of healing. In His Most Holy Book (the Aqdas) Bahá’u’lláh says to consult the best physicians, in other words, doctors who have studied a scientific system of medicine; He never gave us to believe, He Himself would heal us through ‘Healers’ but rather through prayer and the assistance of medicine and approved treatments.”

D. Causes and Types of Illness. In the Writings of the Bahá’í Faith both physical and spiritual causes of illness have been considered. The disturbance in the balance of the elements that compose the human body is the main physical cause of illness. According to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá: “the principal causes of disease are physical; for the human body is composed of numerous elements, but in the measure of an especial equilibrium. As long as this equilibrium is maintained, man is preserved from disease; but if this essential balance, which is the pivot of the constitution, is disturbed, the constitution is disordered, and disease will supervene.” In another Tablet ‘Abdu’l-Bahá refers to physical causes as the external causes of illness: “The outer, physical causal factor in disease . . . is a disturbance in the balance, the proportionate equilibrium of all those elements of which the human body is composed.”

In the same Tablet ‘Abdu’l-Bahá thus describes the inner or the spiritual causes of illness:

It is certainly the case that sins are a potent cause of physical ailments. If humankind were free from the defilements of sin and waywardness, and lived according to a natural, inborn equilibrium, without following wherever their passions led, it is undeniable that disease would no longer take the ascendant, nor diversify with such intensity.

But man hath perversely continued to serve his lustful appetites, and he would not content himself with simple foods. Rather, he prepared for himself food that was compounded of many ingredients, of substances differing one from the other. With this, and with the perpetrating of vile and ignoble acts, his attention was engrossed, and he abandoned the temperament and moderation of a natural way of life. The result was the engendering of [Page 19] disease both violent and diverse.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá, in the same Tablet, draws a comparison between the animal and the human ways of life. While the animal is content with simple foods, does not indulge its persistent biological urges to excess, does not commit any sins, and, consequently, has few ailments, human beings by and large do the opposite and suffer from violent and diverse diseases.

It must be noted that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá considers the spiritual causes of illness to be related to the lack of contentment with simple foods, indulgence of one’s persistent biological urges, and the lack of moderation. He considers such a life to be contrary to nature and an act of contumacy. On another occasion ‘Abdu’l-Bahá again pointed out two causes of illness—one that is “physical” and one that is caused by an “excitement of the nerves.” The latter category corresponds with the spiritual or inner causes described above. The spiritual causes of illness, however, should not be confused with ignorance of and disobedience to “the precepts and teachings of God,” which are indeed diseases of the soul and do not belong to the category of illnesses with which medicine is concerned.

E. Forms of Treatment. Corresponding to the classification of the causes of illness there exist two forms of treatment: physical and spiritual. As ‘Abdu’l-Bahá says: “There are two ways of healing sickness, material means and spiritual means. The first is by the use of remedies, of medicine; the second consists in praying to God and in turning to Him. Both means should be used and practiced.” In the same Tablet He also makes it clear that physical and spiritual remedies are complementary and that both should be used.

About illness and treatment Bahá’u’lláh states: “Verily, we have not abolished recourse to material means, rather have we affirmed it. . . .” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá considers the main physical (outer) cause of illness to be the disequilibrium in the constituents of the human body. For the treatment of these conditions, He gives the following guidance:

Now the readjustment of these constituents of the human body is obtained by two means: either by medicines or by aliments; and when the constitution has recovered its equilibrium, disease is banished. . . . So long as the aim is the readjustment of the constituents of the body, it can be effected either by medicine or by food.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá, in his discourse on healing by material means, focuses extensively on the use of food for treatment of disease and concludes: “It is therefore evident that it is possible to cure by. . . . foods, aliments, fragrant fruits, and vegetables. . . .” He furthermore states that “All the elements that are combined in man, exist also in vegetables; therefore if one of the constituents which compose the body of man diminishes, and he partakes of foods in which there is much of that diminished constituent, then the equilibrium will be established, and a cure will be obtained.” In regard to medical remedies this guidance of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá is clear and unequivocal: “Illness caused by physical accident should be treated with medical remedies. . . .” In addition to the above forms of treatment ‘Abdu’l-Bahá suggests other methods of healing and refers to them as “spiritual” forms of treatment and “healing without medicine.” Praying as a spiritual treatment is mentioned in the Bahá’í [Page 20] Writings on many occasions.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá gives the following explanation of other forms of treatment:

Know that there are four kinds of curing and healing without medicine. Two are due to material causes, and two to spiritual causes.

Of the two kinds of material healing, one is due to the fact that in man both health and sickness are contagious. The contagion of disease is violent and rapid, while that of health is extremely weak and slow. . . .

The other kind of healing without medicine is through the magnetic force which acts from one body on another, and becomes the cause of cure. This force also has only a slight effect. . . .

Of the two other kinds of healing which are spiritual—that is to say, where the means of cure is a spiritual power—one results from the entire concentration of the mind of a strong person upon a sick person, when the latter expects with all his concentrated faith that a cure will be effected from the spiritual power of the strong person, to such an extent that there will be a cordial connection between the strong person and the invalid. . . . From the effect of these mental impressions an excitement of the nerves is produced, and this impression and this excitement of the nerves will become the cause of the recovery of the sick person. . . .

. . . But all this has effect only to a certain extent, and that not always. . . .

But the fourth kind of healing is produced through the power of the Holy Spirit. This does not depend on contact, nor on sight, nor upon presence; it is not dependent upon conditions. . . .

It is noteworthy that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá clearly states that these forms of healing are “extremely weak and slow,” with “a slight effect,” “only to a certain extent, and that not always.” Furthermore, the healing through the power of the Holy Spirit, although possible; is “not dependent upon” any condition.

Thus a review of the Bahá’í Writings on health and healing gives the clear guidance that an individual at the time of illness should seek a competent physician and obey his prescription. Simultaneously, the medical profession has the responsibility to advance further the science of medicine until it reaches maturity. Both the patient and the physician should fulfill their responsibilities in a prayerful atmosphere.

F. Aspects of Mental Illness. People in general are confused about mental disorders and their relationship to physical illness and to the spiritual life of the individual. A brief review of the Bahá’í Writings makes clear both the relationship and the distinction between the body, the mind, and the soul.

The soul of man and, therefore, the spiritual aspects of his life are independent of his physical and mental conditions: “Know thou that the soul of man is exalted above, and is independent of all infirmities of body or mind.” The relationship between the mind, the body, and the soul is outlined by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá:

Now concerning mental faculties, they are in truth of the inherent properties of the soul, even as the radiation of light is the essential property of the sun. The rays of the sun are renewed but the sun itself is ever the same and unchanged. Consider how the human intellect develops and weakens, and may at times come to naught, whereas the soul changeth not. For the mind to manifest itself, the human body must be whole; and a sound mind cannot be but in a sound body, whereas the soul dependeth not upon the body.

The effects of illness on these different realities of man are mentioned by Bahá’u’lláh: “That a sick person showeth signs of weakness is due to hindrances that interpose [Page 21] themselves between his soul and his body, for the soul itself remaineth independent of any bodily ailments.” Mental illness is a condition to be treated as are all other diseases afflicting man. However, mental illness is indeed a very difficult illness, and those subject to it suffer much anguish. Nevertheless, the intensity and the degree of illness have no relationship whatsoever to one’s spiritual life. In a letter written on his behalf Shoghi Effendi says: “It is very hard to be subject to any illness, particularly a mental one. However we must always remember these illnesses have nothing to do with our spirit or our inner relation to God.” In another letter written on his behalf on the subject of mental illness Shoghi Effendi emphasizes the necessity of consulting competent physicians and seeking treatment under their guidance. After reviewing the power of the Faith and the strength that it gives one, he says: “This however does not mean that we should ignore medical opinion and treatment. On the contrary, we should do our best to procure the opinion of specialists and competent doctors.”

The advice to seek medical help is given irrespective of the fact that man’s knowledge of the causes of mental illness is very small and that his methods of treatment very crude. In a letter written on his behalf Shoghi Effendi says that “It is a great pity that as yet so little is really known of the mind, its workings and the illnesses that afflict it”; he adds, “no doubt, as the world becomes more spiritually minded and scientists understand the true nature of man, more humane and permanent cures for mental diseases will be found.”

In the same letter written on his behalf Shoghi Effendi gives the following guidance about some of the prevalent forms of treatment of mental illnesses:

The Guardian, much as his heart goes out to you in your fear and suffering, cannot tell you whether electric shock treatments should or should not be used, as this is purely a medical question, and there is no reference to such details in our Scriptures. The best scientists must pass upon such methods, not laymen.

You must always remember, no matter how much you or others may be afflicted with mental troubles and the crushing environment of these State Institutions, that your spirit is healthy, near to our Beloved, and will in the next world enjoy a happy and normal state of soul.

Another method of treatment of psychiatric conditions is of course psychotherapy. All schools of psychotherapy to a greater or lesser degree focus on the individual, the way he perceives his self and his world, and the manner in which he attempts to deal with realities of life and stresses emanating from the environment and from his inner psychic processes. This focus on the self (ego) merits greater attention here because of the relationship between self-knowledge, on the one hand, and egotism, self-centeredness, and conceit, on the other. “In psychoanalytic psychology,” according to the Psychiatric Dictionary, “The ego is that part of psychic aparatus which is the mediator between the individual and the reality. Its primary function is the perception of reality and adaptation to it.” The main purpose of focusing attention on the ego is for the individual to attain the true self that is “the sum total of an individual’s potentialities which might be developed under the most favourable social and cultural conditions.” Therefore, any form of psychotherapy or analysis that results in egocentrism and egoism is diametrically opposed not only to the fundamentals of a truly mature [Page 22] psychotherapy but also to the fundamental purpose of life for man as described in the Writings of the Bahá’í Faith. The Universal House of Justice, the supreme governing body of the Bahá’í Faith, refers to the danger of undue emphasis on the self, stating: “Your concern about the overemphasis upon the self and ego echoes a central theme of the Manifestation Himself, and it is the subject of many allusions in His Writings wherein, for example, He speaks of ‘the evil of egotism’ and of those who are ‘captives of egotism.’ The Master [‘Abdu’l-Bahá] refers to ‘the lust of egotism’ and tells of ‘. . . the subtlety of the ego of man. It is the Tempter (the subtle serpent of the mind) and the poor soul not entirely emancipated from its suggestions is deceived until entirely severed from all save God.’ In another passage He says: ‘As long as the ego is subjected to carnal desires, sin and error continue.’ And He promises that with assiduous effort ‘Man will become free from egotism; he will be released from the material world.’”

However, according to a letter written on behalf of Shoghi Effendi, “‘The only people who are truly free of the “dross of self” are the Prophets, for to be free of one’s ego is a hall-mark of perfection. We humans are never going to become perfect, for perfection belongs to a realm we are not destined to enter. However, we must constantly mount higher, seek to be more perfect.’” Ego, as used here, is, of course, that element of man that makes him an animal and should be battled against with all one’s efforts. The same letter written on behalf of Shoghi Effendi continues: “‘The ego is the animal in us, the heritage of the flesh which is full of selfish desires. By obeying the laws of God, seeking to live the life laid down in our teachings, and prayer and struggle, we can subdue our egos. We call people “saints” who have achieved the highest degree of mastery over their ego.’” The importance of the subordination of the ego as described in the above passage is further elucidated by Shoghi Effendi in another letter written on his behalf. He clarifies the meaning of spiritual progress which is of primary importance to the life of every individual: “‘the complete and entire elimination of the ego would imply perfection—which man can never completely attain—but the ego can and should be ever-increasingly subordinated to the enlightened soul of man. This is what spiritual progress implies.’”

Treatment as practiced today may fall in either of the two categories described here— that is, a therapeutic process that aims at freeing the individual from the bondage of self-centeredness or an exercise resulting in egotism, conceit, and preoccupation with the self. The individual Bahá’í, however, has the responsibility and the freedom to seek the best that medicine can contribute to cure psychiatric disorders. This is clarified in a letter written on behalf of Shoghi Effendi:

There is nothing in out teachings about Freud and his method. Psychiatric treatment in general is no doubt an important contribution to medicine, but we must believe it is still a growing rather than a perfected science. As Bahá’u’lláh has urged us to avail ourselves of the help of good physicians Bahá’ís are certainly not only free to turn to psychiatry for assistance but should, when available, do so. This does not mean psychiatrists are always wise or always right; it means we are free to avail ourselves of the best medicine has to offer us.

A very important source of comfort for one who suffers from mental illness is his [Page 23] awareness that the independence of his soul from such afflictions and his knowledge of the power of the Faith will help him greatly in his struggle with such conditions. Shoghi Effendi, in a letter written on his behalf, says: “There are a great many as you know mental diseases and troubles at present, and the one thing Bahá’ís must not do is take a defeatist attitude toward them. The power in the Faith is such that it can sustain us on a much higher level in spite of whatever our ailments might be, than other people who are denied it.”

Finally, it must be stated that, according to a letter written on behalf of Shoghi Effendi, scientists will be helped to understand “the mind, its workings and the illnesses that afflict it” when they become “spiritually minded” and “understand the true nature of man.” Once this is achieved “more humane and permanent cures for mental diseases will be found.”

G. The Prevention of Disease. The responsibility of the individual to be conscientious and caring about his health, to live a life of moderation and simplicity, to eat simple and natural food, to be prayerful and to seek medical consultation at the earliest signs of illness—all are extremely important components of preventive medicine. Moreover, there is need for cleanliness, sanctity, and purity. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá says:

O friends of God! Experience hath shown how much the renouncing of tobacco, wine and opium, giveth health, strength and intellectual enjoyments, penetration of judgment and physical vigour. . . .

Therefore strive that the greatest cleanliness and sanctity, which is the great desire of Abdu’l-Bahá, should be resplendent among the Bahais. . . .

H. Research. Many of the Teachings of Bahá’u’lláh have direct relevance to medical research, but a complete review of them is beyond the scope of this paper. There are, however, three basic principles applicable to the acquisition of knowledge and the development of science that form the foundation of all scientific research.

The first is the responsibility of every individual to investigate truth independently. The principle of the independent investigation of truth encompasses all aspects of the life of the individual, including his scientific and professional activities.

Harmony between science and religion is another teaching of Bahá’u’lláh that encourages research in various areas of medicine, including the emotional, ethical, moral, spiritual, and physical aspects of human life.

Finally, in the Bahá’í Faith acquisition of arts and sciences is considered to be an act of worship and thus a spiritual undertaking of paramount important. These principles are all potent sources of encouragement for the medical researcher.

Conclusion

THE SCIENCE of medicine is exalted to an act of worship in the Bahá’í Faith. The physician while ministering to the sick and the afflicted and in his attempt to excel in his profession is giving praise to God. The individual by referring to a competent physician and following his prescription obeys the ordinances of Bahá’u’lláh, attracts the blessings of the All-Merciful to himself, and, at the same time, benefits from whatever medicine has to offer.

As the science of medicine matures, its remedies will become more humanistic, natural, palatable, and enjoyable. Likewise, as people become more spiritual, moderate, and pure in their lives both the frequency and intensity of diseases afflicting them will decrease. However, the growth of medicine and its maturity is closely related to the understanding of the nobility and the spiritual nature of man. This is, indeed, the most important challenge the medical community must face and understand today.

[Page 24]

Problems of Chronology in Bahá’u’lláh’s Tablet of Wisdom

BY JUAN RICARDO COLE

The author wishes to express his thanks to all those who read and made helpful comments on an earlier draft of this paper, particularly the Research Department of the Universal House of Justice. It should be stressed, however, that the views expressed herein are solely those of the author himself, and that he alone is responsible for any errors that remain.

AN OUTSTANDING CHARACTERISTIC of the Bahá’í dispensation is the way in which scripture has often been cast in the forms peculiar to established literary genres in Islamic culture. Many individual pieces of revelation purposely utilize certain literary models as a vehicle for the Word of God. Bahá’u’lláh’s Haft Vádí (Seven Valleys) recalls Farídu’d-Dín-i ‘Aṭṭár’s Manṭiqu’ṭ-Ṭayr (Parliament of the Birds); His “Qaṣídiy-i Varqá’iyyih” challenges in its mystical sublimity ibnu’l-Fáriḍ’s “Naẓmu’s-Sulúk” (“Poem of the Way”); His Tablets to the Kings evoke the “Mirrors for Princes” literature; His Kitáb-i Aqdas (The Most Holy Book) is in its incomparable power, authority, and inimitable eloquence reminiscent of the holy Qur’án itself. However, the recognition that some of Bahá’u’lláh’s writings have a complex cultural context in no sense implies a detraction from the vigorous originality of style and thought invariably exhibited in His Tablets. Even those of His works that fall within a particular genre invariably transcend it in their meaning and spiritual impact, and it is important to note that for the most part Bahá’u’lláh chose to speak from within a highly formalized tradition only in reply to a request from a representative of that tradition.

A further case in point is the Lawḥ-i Ḥikmat (Tablet of Wisdom), which was revealed for the eminent Bahá’í teacher Áqá Muḥammad Nabíl-i Akbar, who was deeply versed in Islamic philosophy. Indeed, the Tablet of Wisdom [Page 25] provides one with several literary forms: ethical maxims, a treatise on cosmogony in the tradition of Aristotle’s De generatione et corruptione (On Coming-to-be and Passing-away), a discourse on the relationship between philosophy and revelation, and a brief biographical treatment of some major Greek philosophers. The Tablet of Wisdom is a major one and will undoubtedly give rise to its own library. But I shall here be concerned only with the biographical section and its background in Islamic models. For unlike the Tablets mentioned above that fall into particular genres, the section on the biographies of the philosophers contains some actual quotations from Muslim historians and biographers; this makes it particularly interesting. Bahá’u’lláh is here writing in a tradition of Muslim biographical literature on the Greeks, a tradition that includes Ṣá‘id al-Andalusí (1029-1070 A.D.), Abú’l-Fatḥ ash-Shahristání (1076-1153), Jamalu’d-Dín al-Qifṭí (1172-1248), Muwaffaqu’d-Dín ibn Abí Uṣaybi‘ah (c. 1194-1270), and ‘Imádu’d-Dín Abú’l-Fidá (1273-1331).

But before turning to a discussion of this Tablet, it will be necessary to treat the problem of sources in relation to the study of revealed scripture. While the practice of revealing some Tablets in a form reminiscent of previous great works in Islamic culture—and even quoting from these—lends a subtlety and sophistication to Bahá’í scripture unparalleled in previous dispensations, it might also open Bahá’u’lláh to charges that His profound knowledge and insight were the natural result of long years of formal study and reading. Bahá’u’lláh Himself refers to this problem in The Seven Valleys:

There is many an utterance of the mystic seers and doctors of former times which I have not mentioned here, since I mislike the copious citation from sayings of the past; for quotation from the words of others proveth acquired learning, not the divine bestowal. Even so much as We have quoted here is [Page 26] [Page 27] [Page 28] out of deference to the wont of men and after the manner of the friends.

As a member of the Persian aristocracy, Bahá’u’lláh was literate but not well educated by the standards of the Muslim intellectuals, and His only justification for speaking authoritatively on such involved subjects as dialectical theology (kalám), ṣúfism, and philosophy (ḥikmah) was His claim to innate knowledge and divine inspiration.

By His own testimony and that of all other reliable sources for His life, Bahá’u’lláh never pursued formal studies at a masjid (college mosque), masjid-i jámí‘ (cathedral mosque), madrasih (school specializing in Islamic law), or takiyih (ṣúfí seminary). As He never studied the basic syllabus of Islamic thought with a recognized master, He would hardly have been considered qualified to attend study sessions on philosophical issues (majális an-naẓar), which were conducted only by the most accomplished and erudite scholars. In the world of Islamic learning, one could obtain credentials (ijázih) to speak with authority on a certain subject only by studying and mastering the basic texts in this field, either with their authors or indirectly through a line of their pupils.

Contemporary Westerners obtain a great part of their education through independent or at most directed reading rather than through the memorization of authoritative interpretations stretching back centuries. Indeed, they are taught to attack “authorities” unmercifully whenever the opportunity presents itself. It is thus difficult to imagine how utterly audacious Bahá’u’lláh (in His guise of the hermit “Darvísh Muḥammad”) must have seemed to Shaykh Ismá‘íl and his students at the Khálidíyyih Takíyih in ‘Iráq when He dared to criticize certain ideas propounded by the celebrated ṣúfí master Muḥyu’d-Dín ibnu’l-‘Arabí in his al-Futúḥát al-Makkiyyah, on no other authority than His own.

In the face of this insistence on the importance of transmitted knowledge and the received tradition, Bahá’u’lláh championed self-reliance and innovation. He attacked the blind emulation of past tradition (taqlíd), which was so important for legalistic Muslims. Beyond this, He defiantly announced His own independence of the centuries-long chain of transmission by claiming powers which, were they the property of an ordinary human being, would be the concern of parapsychologists. For example, Bahá’u’lláh describes in the Tablet of Wisdom how He often had visions during which He saw and was able to read passages from books He had not previously encountered:

Thou knowest full well that We perused not the books which men possess and We acquired not the learning current amongst them, and yet whenever We desire to quote the sayings of the learned and of the wise, [Page 29] presently there will appear before the face of thy Lord in the form of a tablet all that which hath appeared in the world and is revealed in the Holy Books and Scriptures. Thus do we set down in writing that which the eye perceiveth.

Here Bahá’u’lláh is making a definite point of the fact that His knowledge was not acquired through normal channels. More important for my purpose, He indicates quite clearly that He has quoted from some of the learned and the philosophers in the course of the Lawḥ-i Ḥikmat. I shall now proceed to investigate the sources of some of these quotations.

The knowledge the Muslims had about the biographies of the ancient Greeks came for the most part from Hellenistic Neoplatonic and Christian writers. Since many early Greek texts had been lost or were unavailable in the Near East, this knowledge was often limited and somewhat colored by its Christian sources. Moreover, the Muslims seem to have known nothing about the Greek system of dating either by archons or by Olympiads (the first of which occurred in 776 B.C.), and their only fairly dependable point of reference for Greek civilization was Alexander the Great’s conquests, as known from Perso-Babylonian chronology. Most Muslim historians were notoriously lax about the dating of events prior to the advent of Islám, though there were notable exceptions to this generalization such as Abú-Rayḥán-i Bírúní (973-1050 A.D.) and the Syrian prince and geographer Abú’l-Fidá’.

One of the earlier and more influential Muslim accounts of the lives of the Greek philosophers is contained in the Andalusian historian Ṣá‘id of Toledo’s Ṭabaqát al-Umam (Generations of the Nations), in the section on ancient Greece. Many of these biographies were reproduced verbatim by al-Qifṭí in his Ta’ríkhu’l-Hukamá’ (Biographies of the Philosophers), as well as by many other writers, including ibn Abí Uṣaybi‘ah. A similar tradition of the biography of Greek sages is represented by Shahrastání’s celebrated al-Milal wa’n-Niḥal (Religious Communities and Creeds), which might well be considered one of the pioneering works in the development of the History of Religions. Finally, Abú’l-Fidá’ was able to draw on all of these authors and others as well in his al Mukhtasar fí Akhbár al-Bashar (An Abridged History of Mankind).

The most significant difference between the Ṣá‘id and the Shahrastání versions lies in their categorizations of the great philosophers. Ṣá‘id counts five great early philosophers; in chronological order they are Empedocles, Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. Shahrastání, however, enumerates seven eminent figures in early Greek philosophy: Thales, Anaxagoras, Anaximenes, Empedocles, Pythagoras, Socrates, and Plato. Aristotle is not considered [Page 30] “early” by Shahrastání and is presented as the greatest of the later figures. Both Ṣá‘id and Shahrastání discuss Hippocrates separately from these philosophers.

Abú’l-Fidá’ combines these two schemas. He treats: Thales, Empedocles, Pythagoras, Hippocrates, Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle as the first and the most eminent of the philosophers. He then draws upon al-Qifṭí for some notices on lesser figures, including one Múrṭas or Múrisṭus, the inventor of a remarkable organ that could be heard sixty miles away. A comparison of these schemas will show that the Lawḥ-i Ḥikmat follows Abú’l-Fidá’s ordering, even down to a mention of Múrṭas, who is not referred to by either Ṣá‘id or Shahrastání. The major difference is that Bahá’u’lláh’s account leaves out Thales and begins with Empedocles. As Thales was not quite so renowned in Islamic philosophy as the other figures, the omission is a natural one. Bahá’u’lláh does treat one additional philosopher who was neglected by the above biographers: Apollonius of Tyana (b. circa 4 B.C.), the neo-Pythagorean who had a major influence on the development of Neoplatonism and thence on Islamic philosophy. I have so far been unable to identify the exact source for Bahá’u’lláh’s quotations about Apollonius.

IN ORDER to substantiate my contention that Bahá’u’lláh both quoted from and paraphrased the Muslim historians I have mentioned I shall give examples for comparison below. The texts have been translated in such a way as to show differences in the Arabic, which is provided in transliterated form in the footnotes. Phrases in the earlier texts that are identical to ones in the Lawḥ-i Ḥikmat have been italicized.

While the statements of Shahrastání and Bahá’u’lláh about Empedocles are similar in wording and content, they are too brief to be evidential in themselves. I shall quote them here to give an idea of the context of Bahá’u’lláh’s assertion of the contemporaneity of Empedocles and the Prophet David. Shahrastání says of Empedocles:

He was a contemporary of David the Prophet, peace be upon him. He went [Page 31] to him and received knowledge from him. And he studied with Luqmán the Wise and obtained wisdom from him.

The Lawḥ-i Ḥikmat has:

Empedocles, who distinguished himself in philosophy was a contemporary of David. . . .

Both Ṣá‘id and Abú’l-Fidá’ make somewhat similar statements.

Concerning Pythagoras, al-Milal wa’n-Niḥal says:

He lived in the days of Solomon the Prophet, the son of David, peace be upon them, and acquired Wisdom from the treasury of prophethood. He was wise and virtuous, a possessor of sound views and a serene mind. He claimed that he perceived the exalted worlds with his senses and his intuition. He practised self-discipline until he reached the point where he heard the whispering sounds of the heavens and reached the station of the angels.

The Lawḥ-i Ḥikmat has:

while Pythagoras lived in the days of Solomon, son of David, and acquired Wisdom from the treasury of prophethood. It is he who claimed to have heard the whispering sound of the heavens and to have attained the station of the angels.

Here the entirety of Bahá’u’lláh’s account is quoted or paraphrased from Shahrastání. Abú’l-Fidá’ has a much shorter biography for Pythagoras than does Shahrastání and drops the phrase “and acquired Wisdom from the treasury of prophethood.”

But while the wording of the Tablet of Wisdom is closer to that of Shahrastání in the case of Empedocles and Pythagoras, the section on Socrates obviously depends rather on Abú’l-Fidá’. The latter writes:

Among them was Socrates. Shahrastání said in al-Milal wa’n-Niḥal that he was indeed wise, accomplished and righteous. He practised self-denial and turned away from material pleasures. He withdrew to the mountains where he dwelt in a cave. He forbade men to join partners with God or worship idols, until the rabble rose up against him. They obliged their king to kill him, so he imprisoned him and gave him poison to drink.

[Page 32] Bahá’u’lláh writes:

After him came Socrates who was indeed wise, accomplished and righteous. He practised self-denial, repressed his appetites for selfish desires and turned away from material pleasures. He withdrew to the mountains where he dwelt in a cave. He dissuaded men from worshipping idols and taught them the way of God, the Lord of Mercy, until the ignorant rose up against him. They arrested him and put him to death in prison.

While Abú’l-Fidá’ is quoting Shahrastání in this section, he introduced some slight changes into the text, changes which also appear in the Tablet of Wisdom. This would seem to indicate that Bahá’u’lláh’s quotations for some of these biographies were mediated through Abú’l-Fidá’. In some cases, however, phrases present in the Shahrastání version that were dropped by Abú’l-Fidá’ show up in the Lawh-i Ḥikmat. This suggests that either Bahá’u’lláh was drawing upon both Shahrastání and Abú’l-Fidá’ or that some later compiler collated the two, and Bahá’u’lláh was quoting the later source.

One of the consistent emphases in these biographies, both in the Muslim historians and in the Tablet of Wisdom, is the debt owed by the early Greek philosophical tradition to the wisdom of the Hebrew prophets. Shahrastání has Empedocles study with David, and all are agreed that Pythagoras studied Solomonic philosophy in Egypt. The possibility that the strong ethical emphasis and the tendency toward monotheism observable in many of these Greek thinkers owes something to a cultural diffusion from Palestine of Hebraic religious concepts cannot be discounted, though there is no direct proof for it in the Greek sources. But the assertion that Empedocles and David, and Pythagoras and Solomon, were contemporaries stands in direct contradiction to the dating of both ancient and modern Western scholarship and even to that of most Muslim historians.

While David and Solomon are thought by modern historians to have lived in the tenth century B.C., Diogenes Laertius asserts that Pythagoras flourished in the sixtieth Olympiad (540-536 B.C.). Quoting Apollodorus, the same source says that Empedocles went to Thurii just after it was founded (c. 445-444 B.C.). That is to say, our ancient Greek and Hebrew sources have Empedocles live after Pythagoras and die a full five hundred years after the passing of Solomon. There is, then, a very great discrepancy between these dates and those given by Ṣá‘id and Shahrastání.

One of the earlier sustained discussions of the chronological relationship of [Page 33] ancient Israel and Greece is contained in the Stromateis (Miscellanies) of Clement of Alexandria (150-211/15 A.D.). Clement attempted to show that Hebrew wisdom was far older than Greek philosophy and that the Greeks knew the Jewish scriptures intimately, often quoting (or misquoting) them. For example, he argued that the createdness of the world in Greek thought derived from a knowledge of the book of Genesis. Clement examines the chronological traditions about Jewish and Greek figures and demonstrates that Moses lived not only before the birth of men in the Greek system but before many of their gods came to be. He asserts that the prophets Zechariah and Haggai, who prophesied at the time of Darius, lived before the oldest of the Greek philosophers, Thales. He has Pythagoras flourish even later, in the sixty-second Olympiad (540-536 B.C.). Clement seems to have erred by about a hundred years in the former statement; for, if modern dating is correct, Zechariah began his ministry in October-November 520 B.C. (Zech. 1:1), about a century later than Clement apparently reckoned. But this Greek scholar, while he may have made Persian dates a century too early, clearly insists that Pythagoras lived hundred of years after Solomon. The date he gives for Pythagoras is very close to that of Diogenes Laertius.

Augustine of Hippo (354-430 A.D.) was also struck by the similarities between some of Plato’s concepts and those of the Hebrew prophets. He wrote in his De civitate Dei (The City of God):

Some have concluded from this that when he [Plato] went to Egypt he had heard the prophet Jeremiah, or, whilst travelling in the same country, he had read the prophetic scriptures, which opinion I myself have expressed in certain of my writings. But a careful calculation of dates, contained in chronological history, shows that Plato was born about a hundred years after the time in which Jeremiah prophesied.

Augustine also notes that the Old Testament had not yet been translated into Greek in Plato’s time and finally suggests that God’s grace rather than any direct cultural contact can explain the similarities between the Greek philosophical and the Judeo-Christian traditions.

But while early Christian scholars like Clement and Augustine argued that the Hebrew prophetic tradition was centuries older than the Greek philosophical tradition, by medieval times a different chronology held sway. Even during the Renaissance many scholars believed that Pythagoras had been a contemporary of Moses and had read the Hebrew scriptures. The Cambridge Platonist Henry More (1614-87) wrote: “that Pythagoras drew his knowledge from the Hebrew Fountains, is what all Writers, Sacred and Prophane, [Page 34] do testifie and aver.” The Greek biographical tradition about Pythagoras asserted that he went to Egypt and studied with Pharaonic priests. Since Egypt was the birthplace of Mosaic Judaism, it was natural for Jewish and Christian authors to wonder whether Pythagoras might not also have encountered Hebrew wisdom there. The Muslim hisrorians’ assertions about Pythagoras and Empedocles having lived in the time of David and Solomon may thus be seen as a variation on this medieval legend.

Given that the Muslim writers assert that the founding of the Hebrew kingdom and the inception of the pre-Socratic age in Greece were practically simultaneous, it would seem useful to attempt to relate this relative chronology to an absolute chronology. When did the Muslims think these things occurred?

Ṣá‘id’s account has it that Pythagoras lived a while after Empedocles and that he personally taught both Socrates and Plato. He then says that Aristotle was Plato’s favorite pupil and that Aristotle went on to teach Alexander the Great. He later mentions that Thales was one of Pythagoras’ teachers. Thus it is very clear that Ṣá‘id thought Empedocles and Pythagoras to have lived just before the age of Alexander the Great.

Shahrastání’s ordering, listing Thales, Anaximenes, Anaxagoras, Empedocles, Pythagoras, and Socrates, also seems to indicate that he is following a chronology similar to that of Diogenes Laertius, who puts Thales c. 624-545 B.C., and who has Pythagoras flourish just after Thales’ death. Like Ṣá‘id, Shahrastání says that Socrates studied with Pythagoras.

Abú’l-Wafá’ al-Mubashshir says that Empedocles and Socrates were both contemporaries of Zeno. This squares with the accepted dates for these figures (Empedocles: 490-430 B.C.; Socrates: 470-399; Zena: 495-430). Following al-Mubashshir, ibn Abí Uṣaybi‘ah reports that Pythagoras was a young man during the reign of Cyrus, that he was still alive when Cambyses succeeded his father. Cyrus reigned from 559-530 B.C., and Cambyses from 530-522, according to our ancient sources. Modern historians give Pythagoras’ dates as c. 580-500 B.C. If these dates are valid, Pythagoras would in fact still have been a young man when Cyrus acceded to the throne in Persia and would have still been alive throughout Cambyses’ reign.

Thus all major Muslim sources without exception agree that Pythagoras and Empedocles lived sometime in the sixth and fifth centuries B.C. Moreover, this dating generally conforms with that of our classical sources, except for the tendency to make Empedocles Pythagoras’ older contemporary. Their assertion that these two philosophers were contemporaries of David and Solomon clearly implies that they thought the founders of the Hebrew kingdom to have lived after the sack of Jerusalem by Nebuchadrezzar in 586 B.C.—the event which [Page 35] brought the independent Jewish kingdom to an end! This claim is not only preposterous according to Western dating, but it is also at variance with what the Muslims themselves wrote about the chronology of ancient Israel.

WHILE Muslim historians had a great deal of difficulty with ancient dates, even they agreed that David and Solomon had lived centuries before the birth of Nebuchadrezzar. Abú-Rayḥán al Bírúní says that between the founding of the Temple during Solomon’s reign and its destruction by Nebuchadrezzar was 410 years. Moreover, he indicates that from the beginning of the reign of Nebuchadrezzar to the accession of Alexander the Great to the Babylonian throne was 285 years. The modern date for the beginning of Solomon’s reign is c. 960 B.C.; for the destruction of the Temple, 586 B.C.; for the beginning of Nebuchadrezzar’s reign, 605 B.C.; and for Alexander’s conquest of Babylon, 331 B.C. It can thus be seen that Bírúní’s chronology for these events differs only by a few decades from that of modern historians but certainly not by centuries.

A slightly greater discrepancy with modern dating can be found in Abú’l-Fidá’s chronology. This geographer and historian, whose al Mukhtaṣar is essentially an abridgment of the al-Kámil fí’t-Ta’ríkh by ibnu’l-Athír (1160-1233 A.D.), was keenly struck by the latter’s carelessness about dates of pre-Islamic events. He, therefore, attempted to construct a conversion table for finding equivalents of dates from the Jewish, Perso-Babylonian, Christian, Greek, and Roman sources. He does not take into account, however, the difference between solar and lunar calendars. For the sake of simplicity I shall treat his years as solar years.

Since Abú’l-Fidá’ gives dates before Christ in one column of his table, it is a simple enough process to establish his chronology for the Hebrew prophets and the Greek philosophers. Below is a comparative chart with Abú’l-Fidá’s dates on one side and modern chronology on the other.

	Abú’l-Fidá’ (B.C.)	Modern Dating (B.C.)
Moses	d. 1716	d. 1200s
David	d. 1181	d. 960
Solomon	d. 1141	d. 922
Nebuchadrezzar	r. fr. 738	r. fr. 605
Thales	fl. c. 738	624-545
Hippocrates	fl. 542	460-377
Socrates	fl. 369	470-399

There are some interesting features in Abú’l-Fidá’s chronology. He dates Moses five hundred years earlier than is now thought likely. He is quite correct that Thales was a contemporary of Nebuchadrezzar, though he has placed [Page 36] the beginning of the latter’s reign 133 years too early. Since he dates Hippocrates as having flourished 196 years after Nebuchadrezzar took power, his error puts the famous doctor’s dates off by over a century as well. But if one subtracts the error, one has Hippocrates flourishing in c. 409, which is a good approximation. The date he gives for Socrates, “about a thousand years before the Hijrah,” is only some sixty years too late, if we take the years as solar years.

It is apparent that Abú’l-Fidá’ was confronted with a dilemma when he contemplated the biographical tradition of Ṣá‘id and Shahrastání, which claimed that Pythagoras both lived in the time of Solomon and taught Socrates. Even a medieval Muslim historian knew that many centuries separated the Hebrew sage from the Athenian philosopher. Yet Abú’l-Fidá’ gives no indication that he seriously attempted to draw conclusions from his assertion that Empedocles and Pythagoras lived in the time of David and Solomon. He still follows Shahrastání’s arrangement, listing Thales first and so implying that he was the first philosopher. But according to his own chronology Empedocles should have lived five centuries before Thales. All this is to say that the Muslim chronology was on this point seriously flawed by an irreconcilable internal contradiction.

Abú’l-Fidá’ himself, however, had no illusions about the accuracy of the dates he was suggesting for ancient events. He wrote in the preface to his history:

Anyone who meditates upon ancient dates should know that there are very great differences among the historians concerning them. Ibnu’l-Athír said in discussing the birth of Christ that he—peace be upon him—was born 560 years after Alexander’s victory according to the Zoroastrians, but that according to the Christians he was born 303 years after Alexander’s victory. This is a huge discrepancy! . . . As for what is taken from pre-Islamic historians, it is also not dependable, because they used to date from the beginning of their king’s reign, so that their chronologies came to have many starting points. Ḥamzah al-Iṣfahání said that their histories were irretrievably ruined because of this. This is, moreover, compounded by the distance in time, the changes of languages, as well as the antiquity of the books composed on this art. The verification of ancient dates is for these reasons impossible or extremely difficult.

One may conclude, then, that whatever ancient dates the Muslim historians gave were approximations and were not considered trustworthy even by themselves. Moreover, they ran into serious trouble when they attempted to cross-date between calendars.

All this would seem to indicate that the Muslim writers’ statement that Pythagoras and Empedocles were contemporaries of David and Solomon is an historical and factual error. However, such a conclusion raises some difficulties for the Bahá’í scholar, insofar as this apparently inaccurate assertion was quoted by Bahá’u’lláh in the Lawh-i Ḥikmat. Such an eventuality raises for Bahá’ís the same sorts of questions about the possibility of historical error in revealed scripture as have been raised by modern biblical criticism in Christianity.

[Page 37] One possible resolution might be that Bahá’u’lláh’s declaration that these figures were contemporaries was not meant to be taken literally. The Arabic “fí zaman” would be taken to mean “in the age of” rather than “at the same time as.” This suggestion, however, involves a number of difficulties. We now know that Bahá’u’lláh was ultimately quoting from Shahrastání, sometimes through Abú’l-Fidá’, and Shahrastání says that Empedocles actually met and studied with David. Second, the very structure of Bahá’u’lláh’s statement seems to preclude it from being a general assertion that they lived in the same age. For He has Empedocles live in the time of David and Pythagoras in the time of Solomon, indicating by the sequence that contemporaneity is meant. Finally, an example of how this phrase was used by Arab biographers is provided by al-Qifṭí, who says, “Wa kána Suqráṭu fí zamani Afláṭún” (“And Socrates was in the time of Plato”).

Another possible resolution of the problem would be to reject the reliability of such sources as Diogenes Laertius, the Bible, and Ptolemy for establishing ancient chronology. In order to advance beyond such a general skepticism, however, it would be necessary to establish that the Muslims had access to a more reliable chronological tradition about the ancient world, which has since been lost. However, I have shown that Muslim historians like Abú’l-Fidá’ by and large agree with both the classical chronology of the philosophers and the biblical chronology of the prophets. Yet they go on to contradict themselves, asserting that Pythagoras was a contemporary of both Socrates and Solomon, while simultaneously holding that Solomon lived centuries before Socrates. Since they do not offer a tenable alternative chronology, a modern historian has no grounds for using their statement of the contemporaneity of these figures to criticize currently accepted dating. Unless some evidence can be brought [Page 38] forward supporting their case, I can only conclude that the Muslims were confused on this point and that their chronology is not trustworthy.

In addition, modern archeology has lent support to the general reliability of the Bible as an historical document, insofar as events like Nebuchadrezzar’s accession to the throne can be more precisely fixed now that the ancient languages, documents, and calendars have been deciphered. It is true that much of our chronology for ancient events depends on literary documents such as king-lists, the absolute reliability of which is difficult to ascertain. But it seems highly unlikely, given the evidence now available to us, that such important figures as David, Solomon, and Pythagoras have been misplaced by hundreds of years.

Thus it seems probable that Bahá’u’lláh quoted in the Tablet of Wisdom a statement that—however sound it may have been within the cultural confines of Islamic civilization—has proved to be factually inaccurate by any standards of reasoning and historical documentation available to contemporary historians.

FOR AN EXPLANATION of this anomaly, one must move from history to theology—or in H. Richard Niebuhr’s terminology, from “external history” to “internal history.” Unfortunately, however, there is no well-developed tradition of Bahá’í theology upon which one can draw for the resolution of such dilemmas. No systematic theology of the Bahá’í Faith has been written, and no rigorous studies of such theological works as ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s Some Answered Questions have appeared. Ideally, a Bahá’í counterpart of christology and buddhology should be developed on the basis of Bahá’í scripture (we might suggeSt the neologism ‘theophanology’).

In the absence of such a body of scholarship, one can only pose questions and state tentative hypotheses. I have reached the conclusion that statements that are factually inaccurate can become embedded in divinely revealed texts. In the Bahá’í Faith, as in other religions, however, there is a natural desire on the part of its adherents to hold that statements contained in the Holy Writ are inerrant and infallible. But the problem of “infallible statements” involves us in the question of the meaning of a statement. Professor George A. Lindbeck, a Lutheran theologian, made this point in discussing the controversy in the early seventies in the Roman Catholic Church over the infallibility of the Catholic teaching office. He points out that linguistic philosophers such as Wittgenstein have made us aware of the dependence of statements upon their context for their meaning. He adds:

Also contributing to the problem of meaning is the immense growth of historical knowledge. This is the point of which Küng is especially aware. We have become much more conscious of historical relativity and of intellectual and cultural pluralism. What a given form of words means in one epoch, society or intellectual discipline is often very different from what it means in another; or conversely, what look like entirely dissimilar [Page 39] affirmations may function similarly, may have the same meaning in different settings.

No modern thinker can fail to be intensely aware of the historically conditioned nature of all human knowledge and thus of all human statements of that knowledge. Insofar as a divinely revealed text is nevertheless communicated in a human language, employing human concepts in a particular human social milieu, the statements therein are inevitably historically conditioned.

Lindbeck goes on to point out, however, that while all statements may be historically conditioned, the propositions for which they serve as the vehicles can be immutably true. This, he argues, requires only the adoption of two-valued logics in which a distinction is made between meaningful propositions and the particular statement of these propositions. As an example, we might cite the damage wrought to the English phrase “The sun rises” by the modern scientific revolution. While it is, technically speaking, inaccurate to talk of the “rising” of the sun, we continue to do so meaningfully. The statement is incorrect. But the proposition expressed by it, that the sun becomes visible above the earth’s horizon, remains true.

In the Tablet of Wisdom the proposition being argued is that Jerusalem exercised an important spiritual influence upon Athens. The statement that Pythagoras was Solomon’s contemporary was made as part of that proposition and was meaningful in the context of Islamic scholarship. This particular statement is erroneous from the wider point of view of world history. However, Bahá’u’lláh’s proposition that Greek philosophy owed a debt to Hebrew prophecy is not thereby invalidated. The proposition can remain true in spite of the error that has crept into the statement of it owing to the inevitable historicity of statements made in human languages. One may thus argue that the central propositions contained in the Tablet of Wisdom can be infallibly and eternally true, although particular statements that express or support those propositions might prove inaccurate outside their original context.

In concentrating upon a tiny chronological inconsistency, I do not intend to draw attention away from the more significant issues raised for the cultural history of mankind by the Lawh-i Ḥikmat. Chief among these is Bahá’u’lláh’s assertion that Western philosophy and its offspring, modern science, derived their metaphysical basis from prophetic monotheism. My aim, however, was to make a contribution to the still embryonic “science” of Bahá’í scriptural exegesis, and science progresses through the examination of anomalies.

[Page 40]

[Page 41]

Looking at Children’s Literature

BY DOROTHY GAREY

HUNDREDS OF BOOKS have been written in the twentieth century about children: their growth, feeding, training, education, medical care, reading, play. Indeed, the twentieth century has often been characterized as the century of the child. Ellen Key, an almost forgotten popular writer of the turn of the century, prophesied that this would be the case.

The publication of such material is an important part of the trade book industry; many college and university courses in psychology, sociology, and education center on the child. In order to sell clothes, furniture, toys, cereal, the commercial world follows the birth rate as anxiously as does the demographer. The child is a major industry as well as a major social and intellectual concern. Philippe Ariès has observed that “New sciences such as psychoanalysis, pediatrics, and psychology devote themselves to the problems of childhood, and their findings are transmitted to parents by way of a mass of popular literature. Our world is obsessed by the physical, moral and sexual problems of children.”

Yet what do we know about the history of the child? How was he defined in colonial America? What was his place before the modern demographic revolution in Western civilization? Are there records in classical history that mention the child as a separate entity? When did law begin to recognize a particular age group and call them children?

Research into the history of childhood turns out to be a limited subject. Hundreds of books narrow down to some dozen; and the serious writers in the field—social historians, historical sociologists, psychologists— are recent, dating after World War II.

In 1948 James Bossard, a sociologist specializing in the family, wrote, “Unfortunately, the history of childhood has never been written, and there is some doubt whether it can ever be written [because] of the dearth of historical data bearing on childhood.” He was right, at the time, for the few earlier writers who might charitably be considered historians of childhood, and most of whom date from the turn of the century, concerned themselves primarily with anecdotal accounts of events in which children of nobility or royalty play a part. To show in some detail the variety of types of current writing about the history of childhood, as well as to contrast selected examples of the two approaches, will be the purpose of this bibliographic essay.

As if in response to Bossard’s plea, Philippe Ariès, in 1960, published L’Enfant et la vie familiale sous l’ancien régime (Paris, Librairie Plon), which was translated as Centuries of Childhood and published in the United States in 1962. This book provided thoroughly documented research as well as distinguished and stimulating writing on the subject of the treatment of children in France since the thirteenth century. No subsequent study has failed to refer to it. What makes Ariès’ book such a seminal work? Ariès, as [Page 42] a demographic historian, set out to discover from the documents of the time the place of the family as it evolved from antiquity. He found that, contrary to expectation, the entity of the family had strengthened rather than weakened or dissipated during the centuries of the Industrial Revolution and that the question of the recognition of relationships and treatment of the child was an inextricable part of his work. It was not until the seventeenth century that specific terms came into use to designate infants and very young children. Until then such words as baby and child could refer to any age from the newborn to young adulthood. Previously, language distinguished in a rough, approximate way children, youths, mature persons, and old men for the ages of life, although life in general was short. Children were not recognizable as such in pictures until the twelfth century; they were portrayed as small-sized adults.

The change and significance of dress was another means of distinguishing age groups. Until the thirteenth century clothes after swaddling were adult clothes for all ages. Ariès notes that “The adoption of a special childhood costume, which became generalized throughout the upper classes, marked a very important date in the formation of the idea of childhood.” He further notes that “Boys were the first specialized children.” But this particularization of dress for boys was confined to middle and upper classes. Lower class children wore adult castoffs.

A change in attitude toward games showed itself in the seventeenth century. Previously the child, regarded as a smaller version of the adult, played with adults and learned adult functions through games. “Now,” writes Ariès, “came a desire to safeguard a child’s morality and also to educate it, by forbidding it to play games henceforth classified as evil and by encouraging it to play games henceforth recognized as good.” The evolution of games resulted in their being abandoned to children and lower classes. A clear connection between the idea of childhood and the idea of class was emerging.

Another characteristic showed itself in the inhibitions to be maintained in front of children, manifested in a change that Ariès described as proceeding “from immodesty to innocence.” The older society had no inhibitions, a complete lack of reserve before children. A great change in manners took place in the course of the seventeenth century, manifesting itself in moral and pedagogic literature and in devotional practices. The protection of the innocence of children was observed by as early a writer as Montaigne.

A campaign to keep children from sleeping together or with older people or with the opposite sex, to conceal their bodies from one another (part of the Church’s teaching), and not to leave them with careless and often lewd servants was part of the growing effort to protect children. A change in the use of vous and tu began to appear; the more formal term in conversation with each other and with adults became acceptable.

The first communion was celebrated as a childhood festival and became the most visible manifestation of the idea of childhood between the seventeenth and late nineteenth centuries: a “celebration of the idea of innocence and its rational appreciation of the sacred mysteries.”

A striking finding about the mortality rate of children has often been quoted: “People would not allow themselves to be attached to something that was regarded as a probable loss. . . . No one thought of keeping a picture of a child if that child had died in infancy or lived to manhood . . . [the] general feeling was that one had many children in order to keep a few.” The feeling of indifference toward a too fragile childhood was not very different from that attitude of the Romans or Chinese who exposed unwanted newborns on the hillsides or the [Page 43] rivers. Demographic conditions did not greatly change between the thirteenth and seventeenth centuries. However, there came an increasing recognition that the child’s soul was immortal—a recognition that was linked with the growing influence of Christianity on life and manners. But it was not until Jenner’s discovery of a vaccine for smallpox that the tremendous child mortality rate began to abate.

Ariès concludes that the medieval world lacked awareness of the particular nature of the child; the child did not count until he was old enough to take part in adult activities —clothes, games, crafts. From the fourteenth century on children in families became the source of amusement and relaxation as can be seen in art and iconography. A concern for health began to grow by the eighteenth century.

Part II of Ariès’ work is called “The Scholastic Life” and is a discussion of the development of education and its symbiotic relationship with the growing concept of childhood that occupies half the book. The description of teachers and students and the growth of schools and a curriculum can be read profitably for an understanding of how our contemporary scholastic systems in Western civilization came to exist and how “School class has . . . become a determining factor in the process of differentiating the ages of childhood and early adolescence.” The constant citation of primary sources and the discernment of powerful social patterns make this section a source of splendid insights for the general reader as well as for the specialist.

The final quarter of Centuries of Childlaood traces the growth of the conjugal family as distinct from the medieval groupings and the place of the now identifiable child and adolescent within it. By the nineteenth century the concept of the child and the family was extended to all social strata, and its middle class and aristocratic origins could be forgotten. However, until the seventeenth century, life “was lived in public.” Although the family existed as a reality, it did not exist as a concept. Its place was taken by the groups of society—town, village, and extended family (relatives, servants, all part of the group and all influential in handling the child). The growth of the conjugal family, as Ariès calls it, was at the expense of neighborly relationships, friendships, and traditional contacts. In the Middle Ages “The family fulfilled a function; it insured the transmission of life, property and names; but it did not penetrate very far into human sensibility.” In the last century the idea of the child and his place beside the adult brought about that penetration into human sensibility of which Ariès speaks.

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“Of all the vast changes which have taken place in the last two centuries, in our mode of life and in our sense of values, not the least is the change in attitude toward children. Today there is general recognition of the fact that children are the most valuable asset of the state. . . . the struggle to make such protection [by the state] legally effective was long and bitter, and required a revolution in contemporary attitudes toward social responsibility; to family and parental responsibility; and in the understanding of human nature itself.”

Ivy Pinchbeck and Margaret Hewitt

Children in English Society, II, 347

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Subsequent writers have not always acknowledged Ariès with praise. The History of Childhood (1974) edited by Lloyd deMause, a psychohistorian, contains ten chapters written by various historians interested in the psychogenic theory of historical change, which posits “that the central force [Page 44] for change in history is neither technology nor economics, but the psychogenic changes in personality occurring because of successive generations of parent-child interactions.” deMause leads off with a chapter called “The Evolution of Childhood” in which, after explaining the hypotheses of psychohistory, he reviews previous histories of childhood beginning with Ariès, the “best known.” In half a page deMause demolishes Ariès, whose theories are the “opposite of mine” and suggests other historians instead (several of whom we will include in this review). In the rest of the chapter he takes up the ways children have been “killed, abandoned, beaten, terrorized, and sexually abused,” stating that “It is our task here to see how much of this childhood history can be recaptured from the evidence that remains to us” (and be used to support the psychogenic theory). The account is truly a horrifying one, leaving the reader surfeited with cruelty and indifference and wondering if this grim picture could be the entire story of the past. The chapter is amply documented, containing 275 notes for fifty-five pages. The notes are unusually detailed and would be useful even for the reader or researcher who did not accept psychogenic assumptions.

The History of Childhood covers a number of periods and specialized topics such as childhood in Imperial Russia, middle class childhood in nineteenth-century Europe and urban Italy, and children and parents from the thirteenth to the nineteenth centuries. They vary in quality of style, depth of development, some being rather cursory. John F. Walzer, responsible for the chapter on eighteenth-century American childhood, uses a jarring casual vernacular (“Kiddies,” “penpals”). In most chapters the notes and additional bibliographies are valuable for the student, who may at the same time question the ideas. deMause and his colleagues are certainly provocative but perhaps too burdened with a thesis to be entirely trustworthy.

Glenn Davis in Childhood and History in America (1976) published by the Psychohistory Press, after explaining in rather greater detail the psychogenic theory of history, treats the period from 1840-1965 as an example of history reflecting psychic control, aggressive training, vigorous guidance, and delegated release. This is followed by “two chapters that seek to illustrate the ways in which four major periods of twentieth century history are logical outgrowths of the four Submodel childhood experiences detailed in the preceding chapters.” Davis expounds this group’s theories in much greater detail, to the point where there might be a question as to whether this book should be classified as history, psychology, or philosophy.

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“‘In marriage, husband and wife are one person, and that person is the husband.’”

Blackstone, quoted in

Ivy Pinchbeck and Margaret Hewitt

Children in English Society, II, 362

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Parents and Children: The Psychology of Family Life in Early Modern France (1970) is by David Hunt, who explains that “The major part of this study has to do with childhood and family life in seventeenth century France. My objectives are, on the one hand, to add to our understanding of the social history of the period, and on the other, to demonstrate some of the strengths and the limitations of psychology as an instrument of historical analysis.” He goes on to say that “Erikson’s speculations . . . serve as an [Page 45] essential point of reference for anyone attempting to fuse history and psychology.” Hunt uses as source materials the family background of Cardinal Richelieu, the startlingly candid and detailed Diary of Dr. Jean Héroard appointed by Henri IV to supervise the infant Dauphin—the future Louis XIII, medical literature, Livres de Raison (account books kept by urban notables), memoirs and personal reminiscences, and books on etiquette or on rearing the young. Part I has two chapters: the first explains Erik Erikson’s theory of psychosocial development; the second, Philippe Ariès and the evolution of the family. Parts II and III develop the background of parent and child in accordance with their ideas.

Hunt writes in a literate, modest, informal style, speculating and explaining rather than haranguing, but this book cannot be a first choice for a student beginning an exploration of the field. As in deMause’s History of Childhood the theoretical bias of the book frequently makes it difficult to ascertain the flow of history for oneself. Hunt, however, was among the four recommended by deMause in lieu of Ariès.

J. Louise Despert has written as a clinician in The Emotionally Disturbed Child Then and Now (1965). Her book is a curious collection containing a particular case history, a section of brief historical summary, and a long development of the topic of the normal and the autistic child. The book’s concern is with the factors that produce disturbed children—parents without maturity and inner strength who are yet the children’s most important support, a support that turns out to be a failure. Despert looks at the past in an effort to understand the factors that lead to the present. The book has weaknesses in organization and in the juxtaposition of material too slightly developed, but it is still valuable and stimulating to read for its effort to formulate the right questions about children’s inner health today. However, Despert would not have come to general notice without having been included as one of the four preferred by deMause.

The Child and the Republic: The Dawn of Modern American Child Nurture (1968) by Bernard Wishy is about philosophical nurture, rather than physical nurture: “I have concentrated largely on religious ideals and moral indoctrination rather than on practical details and techniques of daily physical care—a strategy encouraged by the fact that the principal interests of the period were moral and religious, and because several earlier studies seem to me to have covered adequately the detailed history of feeding, clothing and cleaning the child. . . . I have paid minimal attention to social and economic background.” The book analyzes examples of adult and children’s books—The Scarlet Letter and Little Black Sambo and books by such authors as Horatio Alger and Harriet Beecher Stowe—to find the values Americans espoused or wanted their children to imbibe.

The Child and the Republic is unique for the period it covers (1830-1900) and for its analysis of educational materials as well as of popular reading. Restricting his subject to philosophical and moral ideas as well as writing in academese makes for a rather bloodless book in contrast to the vigor of Ariès and Hunt. But for one interested in all the facets of childhood this is a useful source.

Ivy Pinchbeck began to write Children in English Society (1969-73) because “it became apparent that there existed no adequate systematic study of children in English [Page 46] society, and of the development of legislation affecting them; nor any thorough analysis of the social and economic forces and influences which shaped it.” Volume one is the work of Ivy Pinchbeck; when ill health made it impossible for her to continue, Margaret Hewitt took over and wrote the second volume. The first book discusses childhood and family, child marriage, royal wards and the institution of the Court of Wards, the illegitimate child of the poor and of the upper classes and nobility, religion, schooling, and types of apprenticeship and work for children. There is thorough coverage of conditions for the children of the rich and of the poor and deprived. The beginnings of social laws—the establishment of the poorhouse, the care of orphans, the responsibility of local towns and villages—as part of the Tudor period are traced and their analogous reappearance in the nineteenth century noted. Pinchbeck draws astute conclusions after describing existing conditions: “every society selects its own criteria for the socialization of its children and uses its own methods of inculcating the values of its adult world. The abiding importance of the school is that, in providing a separate institution for children, it gives to childhood an independent and recognizable status.”

Margaret Hewitt continues to trace the development of subjects initiated in volume one; but she also brings up questions of legal rights of children, the change from apprenticeship to work in factories and mines; the “gangs” in agriculture; and vagrancy and delinquency in urban settings. Transportation of children to Canada is described as a solution for better treatment of children. Hewitt also discusses the demographic revolution, a major theme in Ariès—the decline in the prevailing death rate and the increase in the birth rate from 1751 to 1831—and cites the work of such demographic historians as Peter Laslett and Gregory King.

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“So we see the long train of laughing children pass—Saxon, Norman, Tudor. Truly the children of long ago seem to have had a merry time.”

Elizabeth Godfrey

English Children in the Olden Times, p. 162

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Hewitt asserts that the legal rights of children were only fully achieved in the twentieth century; earlier children were the property of their fathers or, if apprenticed, their masters. The exploitation of children in early industrialism and as part of rural labor is vividly described; indeed most social historians recognize the appearance of the humanitarians and their influence in social legislation in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The Education Act of 1876 kept the child in school until he was ten. The Children’s Charter in 1908 declared “children are citizens who have social rights independent of their parents, rights which the state has a duty to protect,” and widened the protection of the law against abuses of every sort. In 1948 the Children’s Act acknowledged that children had “rights not grudgingly conceded to the poor but openly acknowledged for children, rich and poor alike: the rights of support and security, of health and happiness, of development and fulfillment in the society whose children they are.”

Children in English Society, well organized and clearly developed, written with some elegance, based on extensive research among primary sources such as city, town, and village registers, Hansard Reports, parliamentary hearings, and contemporary accounts, is a lucid and continually widening picture of the status of childhood and its change. Pinchbeck and Hewitt seldom allow their personal [Page 47] feelings to appear. Only in occasional and appropriate citations of cruelty and greed can their indignation be felt. But their sober, informed, and relentless scholarship in developing an historical picture of childhood makes for an unforgettable understanding and impact.

“. . . America presented many new circumstances that required adjustments in traditional English institutions,” writes Robert Bremner. Children and Youth in America: A Documentary History (1970) in three volumes covers the years between 1600 and 1973 (Vol. 1: 1600-1865; Vol. 2: 1866-1932; Vol. 3: 1933-1973) and is concerned with public policy toward children and youth. This book grew out of an earlier work by Grace Abbott, Chief of the Children’s Bureau for many years. It was recognized that Abbott’s valuable background for those concerned with children and social welfare needed revising and updating. Funding was obtained, a committee organized, and Robert Bremner selected to form a group originally based at Harvard to produce what turned out to be a brilliant piece of work. I mention all this background detail because it seems rather typical of the American method.

Children and Youth in America is directed toward social workers, legislators, educators, the health services, and all others who devise public policy or execute it. Education, delinquency, child health, labor, dependency, and the special problems of slave, Indian, immigrant, and free black children are some of the topics included. The documents covering these topics are government reports, diaries, letters, journals, contemporary newspaper and magazine accounts, biographies, novels, and even on occasion poetry. Fanny Kemble’s deeply felt words about the treatment of slaves on the plantation on which she lived, Mark Twain’s letter to the newspaper about the treatment of children, a report from a home for the mentally retarded about the successful use of castration for restless and uncontrollable boys (“they grew docile”) are among the source materials.

Each section contains an excellent introduction that sums up the life of the period as children and their families must have experienced it. Although Children and Youth in America was not meant to be a history of childhood as such, its quantity of information and many insights make it enormously valuable. It can well be used in parallel study with Pinchbeck and Hewitt and Ariès.

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“The child’s position in the average family of the masses was for centuries roughly in this order: father, cattle, mother, child. He was part of the chattel and in certain societies could be sold.”

J. Louise Despert

The Emotionally Disturbed Child

Then and Now, p. 15

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Philip Greven’s Child-Rearing Concepts 1628-1861: Historical Sources (1973) is another example of documentary history. He states that “it is only our own historical naiveté which makes us believe we are unique in our preoccupation with human development. For centuries Christian writers have known the critical importance of childhood in shaping the personalities and piety of successive generations. Many of the most persuasive modern theories of child development and behavior echo arguments and convictions voiced a century or more ago.”

In his documentary collection Greven includes samples from John Robinson, John Locke, Cotton Mather, Susanna Wesley and her son John, Jonathan Edwards, and John Witherspoon to illustrate Puritan-Evangelical concepts. Horace Bushnell breaks with such ideas, arguing instead for a more liberal [Page 48] manner of training children. This limited collection of primary documents can be used in conjunction with Children and Youth in America, although Greven in no way approaches its thoroughness.

The Mechanical Baby: A Popular History of the Theory and Practice of Child Raising (1977) by Daniel Beekman is a brief chronological overview of the attitudes and counsel for child rearing, using source material beginning with Heinrich von Louffenburg’s Regimen of Health for Young Children written in 1429. The most valuable portion of this collection of writings is the material reflecting twentieth-century advice and concerns. Mr. Beekman finds child-care and social attitudes closely mingled but admits that his book is no more than a historical essay. The work is interesting as additional reading and significant for its topic but of secondary importance.

Barbara Kaye Greenleaf’s Children Through the Ages (1978) is the most recent publication on the history of childhood. Pediatrics, education, games, attitudes of parents and other adults, religion, dress, and children’s reading from ancient to modern times are covered in nine chapters and 165 pages. “From the Renaissance to Rousseau” is accomplished in twenty pages. Yet this brief and necessarily superficial book, perhaps meant as a high-school text, is convenient for its late twentieth-century summary of activities concerning changes in attitudes toward children. Greenleaf clearly has read many of the books discussed here, and her material is familiar; still the book is useful for a beginner’s look at the subject. She aptly characterizes the changing relationships between parent and child in the New World:

But the new land was too vast, the chores too numerous to keep a vigil over children’s activities. And in the new country father did not always know best. Unhampered by a traditional upbringing, his children were often better than he at adapting to the quick-changing American scene. Thus relations between the generations were bound to be strained in America. Time and again European ideas of obedience clashed with American ideas of liberty and time and again obedience lost.

In style, tone, research and documentation, and point of view, four older books serve as contrasts to the recent publications discussed so far.

Boy Through the Ages by Dorothy Margaret Stuart (first published in 1926 and now available in facsimile reprint) was meant for boys but is also for such of their elders “as like and understand small boys.” The boy in the caves, ancient Egypt, Greece, Rome, the Norse boy, Anglo-Saxon, Norman, medieval, and on up to the early nineteenth century—all are described in terms of their period (battles, culture, education) and as if through the eyes of a child.

Stuart has obviously done much research; each chapter quotes from appropriate contemporary sources. She even discusses the Dauphin as a child, although not in the terms used by Ariès or Hunt. The book contains a multitude of illustrations again taken from period materials. No sources are cited, however, contrary to current usage; even in children’s books today sources and bibliography are available.

Another drawback of Boy Through the Ages is that the language is dated. It is too difficult for children and arch and condescending for the adolescent and the adult. Each boy in each period is meant to be an example. Stuart ends thus: “As the long pageant of boy-life through the ages passes before us, with its gay and sombre colours and shadows, and then narrows and recedes [Page 49] into the distance again, we see that the first great influence which moulded the minds of men and the lives of their sons was the love of learning. And then we see how to that love there has been added another, not less noble and not less powerful for good—the love of the open air, of sport and pluck and fair play.”

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“On none did it press so hard [cruelty of the law] as on the child who, according to law and custom, was held to be adult, if above the age of seven, and therefore responsible for his crimes. Up to 1780, the penalty for over two hundred offences was death by hanging, and many a child, like the little girl hanged in Norwich for stealing a petticoat, was hanged for a trivial offence. . . . children were among those publicly hanged after the Gordon Riots. ‘I never saw boys cry so much’; there are in fact, instances recorded of children younger than seven being executed, as for example, the pitiable case of a child of six who cried for his mother on the scaffold.”

Ivy Pinchbeck and Margaret Hewitt

Children in English Society, II, 352

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Children in the Olden Time was published in 1907 by Elizabeth Godfrey and covers such topics as “babies in bygone days, church and children, games and celebrations, nurture in King’s Court, pleasant pastimes, tales of wonder.” The book is a long series of anecdotes about famous children; many sources are cited and quoted (but not identified). The book is meant for adults, reflects nostalgia for the past—all the past, and shows little concern for knowledge of other than the middle and upper classes. Surely Godfrey, who should be read in conjunction with Pinchbeck and Hewitt, must have known of the bitter disputes over the treatment of children. Yet this is her tone: “While theorists wrangled, and the superior parent endeavoured to form himself and his offspring on the most approved models of the Encyclopedists, the children themselves played among the buttercups and the daisies, and nature took care of her own.” Or “If there is one thing that distinguishes the modern child from all who went before him, it is his extraordinary immaturity and backwardness, compared with the development of his ancestors at the same age.”

George Henry Payne, whose The Child in Human Progress was published in 1916, is an altogether different sort of writer. His book has as its theme the universal practices of man concerning children, neglected chapters in the history of the attitude of society toward children. Among the topics he discusses are the Mongols, Japan, Mesopotamia, the Egyptians, Greece, India, Semitic tribes, the Hebrews, the Romans (first recognition of the rights of children), the growth of Christian sentiment, the rise of the factory system, and industrial conditions in America. He also discusses abandonment, burying children alive, human sacrifice, cannibalism, child labor, orphan asylums, and the padrone system.

He notes that when the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals was founded in the nineteenth century, its members were asked to take in abused children (they were animals of a sort, was the rationale). This resulted in a society with the same humanitarian objectives for children.

Payne remarks “more has been written about the child in the last fifty years than had been written in the world in all civilized times up to the beginning of this half-century. In order to appreciate this statement one must remember that the best friends of the [Page 50] child—Jesus, the Jewish Prophets, and Mohammed —lived centuries before the human theories that they preached had really a living existence.”

Payne is general and superficial in his coverage of so many periods and peoples, but he documents voluminously. He has the bias of early twentieth-century optimism, frequently noting salutary differences between modern civilized practices and those of backward savages and ancient times.

Payne was obviously used by deMause— both excel in horrifying details. However, Payne will remind those old enough to have known the Hearst Sunday Magazine Section of its stories of early man, or the barbarians, or primitive tribes and their practices of strange and bloodthirsty rites. The book has value, however, not only for its bibliography but also as an early example of a background history of childhood. Indeed it was among the first.

Alice Morse Earle, herself a descendant of colonial forebears, wrote not “as works of formal scholarship, but as reminiscences of bygone days.” Home Life in Colonial Days and Child Life in Colonial Days, published in 1898 and 1899, have been valuable as background social history for adults and children, and both have been in continuous publication in one form or another since their appearance. These two volumes were edited, shortened, and issued in 1969 as Home and Child Life in Colonial Days.

The new edition seems to omit some of the anecdotal features of the previous volumes, but it gives the reader a brief general description of babyhood, childhood, school days and education, children’s books, manners, religious obligations, games and pastimes, work responsibilities, and discipline. This book, widely included in bibliographies, can be read as a beginner’s introduction but must be supplemented with other studies done in greater depth, in order to gain an understanding of the treatment of children in a variety of conditions. The description of the child’s life and activities is the focus of the writer, rather than the effect and result of these activities upon the child. There is no attempt at an interpretation of the colonial child, but it would be unreasonable to expect it in a book from 1899. This sort of conscious understanding and interpretation could not come until psychology became another of the tools of the historian and the social scientist.

To conclude, the history of childhood is no longer acceptable as a collection of anecdotes with which to entertain children and doting parents. Nor can the grim treatment of children and aberrant sexual practices be used for their sensationalism by commercial journalists. The study of the history of childhood today has been enriched by the convergence of the disciplines of psychology, demography, sociology, and anthropology upon history with resulting insights and interpretations that may provide us with understanding not only of the past but also of the future conduct of human beings.

A knowledge of this history is helpful in the attainment of the informed judgment and wisdom needed by adults in their relationships with children. An understanding of the past struggles for children’s rights and protections under law strengthens those adults in their search for a better world in 1979, the International Year of the Child.

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Authors & Artists

JUAN RICARDO COLE holds a B.A. degree in history and the literature of religion from Northwestern University and an M.A. degree in Arabic studies from the American University in Cairo. He is currently pursuing a Ph.D. in Islamic studies at the University of California at Los Angeles. He has studied and worked for several years in the Middle East. His “The Christian-Muslim Encounter and the Bahá’í Faith” was published in the Winter 1977-78 issue of World Order. His article “Rifá‘ah aṭ-Ṭahṭáwi and the Revival of Practical Philosophy” is forthcoming in Muslim World.

HOSSAIN B. DANESH is an assistant professor of psychiatry at the University of Ottawa and director of the family therapy program, the thanatology service, and the residency training of the Department of Psychiatry at the Ottawa Civic Hospital. A Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Canada, Dr. Danesh has published a number of papers on Bahá’í and psychiatric themes, including a monograph entitled “The Violence-Free Society: A Gift for Our Children” (Bahá’í Studies, Vol. 6). For World Order Dr. Danesh has authored “Universal Man and Prejudiced Man” (Spring 1974) and coauthored “Errors in Jensen’s Analysis” (Fall 1976). He is the Chairman of the Executive Committee of the Canadian Association for Studies on the Bahá’í Faith.

DOROTHY GAREY, who has taught children’s literature and literature for young adults for twenty-two years, has recently retired from the Division of Library Science and Instructional Technology at Southern Connecticut State College. She began her career at the Los Angeles Public Library and began teaching at New Haven State Teachers College (now Southern Connecticut) in 1956. Mrs. Garey, an art-film buff, has served on juries at and has staged several film festivals. She makes a first appearance in World Order.

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.

IRVIN M. LOURIE holds medical and public health degrees and a Master’s degree in radiation physics and biology. He has been involved in international health work for thirty-five years, twenty-one of which were with the World Health Organization. For three years he directed a large international clinical research program; and for the past nine years he has been associated with the international health unit of the School of Public Health of the University of California at Los Angeles. He has participated in the international planning of health programs, epidemiology research, and health systems research. Dr. Lourie, who collects Oriental and African art, loves walking, running, and hiking.

ALFRED K. NEUMANN is a professor of international health in the School of Public Health at the University of California at Los Angeles. He has been active in international health work for the past twenty years, principally in Asia and Africa; he has also served as a consultant to the World Health Organization. Dr. Neumann received his medical training at New York University and holds master’s degrees in public health (from Harvard) and economics (from the University of Wisconsin). Dr. Neumann enjoys hiking, skiing, wilderness living, and woodworking.

ART CREDITS: Cover, design by John Solarz, photograph by Glenford E. Mitchell; p. 1, photograph by Lesley Smith; p. 3, photograph by Glenford E. Mitchell; p. 7, photograph by Camille O’Reilly; p. 8, photograph by Richard Thompson; p. 14, photograph by J. M. Conrader; pp. 26-27, photograph by Lesley Smith; p. 40, photograph by Lesley Smith; p. 51, photograph by Richard Thompson.

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