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Winter 1980

World Order

Of Language, Literacy, and

A World-Embracing Vision

Editorial

To Move the World:

Promoting Racial Amity,

1920-1927

Gayle Morrison

Children and Television Violence

A. M. Ghadirian

Entities of a New Creation

Julie Oeming Badiee

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World Order

A BAHÁ’Í MAGAZINE • VOLUME 14, NUMBER 2 • PUBLISHED QUARTERLY

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

Editorial Board:

FIRUZ KAZEMZADEH

BETTY J. FISHER

HOWARD GAREY

ROBERT HAYDEN

GLENFORD E. MITCHELL

WORLD ORDER is published quarterly 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 © 1980, 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 Of Language, Literacy, and

A World-Embracing Vision

Editorial

5 Interchange: Letters from and to the Editor

6 Singing in the Spirit of Duchesne

a poem by Fredrick Zydek

9 To Move the World: Promoting Racial

Amity, 1920-1927, by Gayle Morrison

33 Children and Television Violence

by A. M. Ghadirian

40 Entities of a New Creation

by Julie Oeming Badiee

51 Principles and Applications

a book review by Jolie V. Haug

56 Authors and Artists in This Issue

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Of Language, Literacy, and A World-Embracing Vision

SHORTLY AFTER the Second World War, as the people of the United States began, however dimly, to understand the degree of their responsibility for world peace and for the establishment of what President Roosevelt called the “four freedoms” (who remembers them today?), a certain “world-mindedness” worked its way into the verbal consciousness of increasing numbers of our citizens. Certain propositions came to be accepted as axioms in the system of ideas of the “world citizen”: every people, every nation, every tribe in the world is our neighbor; each neighbor who requires our help must be helped in terms of his own culture and values; the arrogance of colonialism, which imposes its language, culture, and values on subject nations—if these are to benefit fully from the “civilizing mission” of the great European Powers—is now to be forsworn, paternalism to be renounced in favor of fraternity; and Ianguages are the key to the culture, to the intimate consciousness of our neighbors. It is likely that most of our readers over forty will remember these fine ideals and wonder what became of them. Did they disappear because they have been proven illusory, unattainable, or even false?

We continue to believe in brotherhood, even though the world seems to have slipped back along the road climbing steeply to that goal. Nationalisms have sprung up everywhere in the world, harsh, hateful, violent, irrational, destructive of every freedom except that of belonging to a majority transformed to a surging mob, intent on the annihilation of every threat to conformity. Our own country is reacting to these dark tendencies by imitating them: bumper stickers and crude inscriptions on walls attest to the new xenophobia, of which Cubans, Haitians, and Iranians, among others in our midst, will bear the brunt.

Since the world has been winding down to chaos, in a caricature of entropy, Americans, too, have been forgetting their world view; zeal is becoming indifference, indifference ignorance, and ignorance hostility. And this at the very moment when the typically American ideals that gave hope and courage to the rest of the world are most needed. Is it symptomatic of this dangerous indifference that the study of foreign languages is more neglected now than before the Second World War? Those who cry “back to the basics” have tacitly or explicitly excluded languages from the “basics”—they are officially (if school budgets are any indication of official status) “frills.”

Yet the “basics” are generally understood to include reading and writing. The proposition that literacy in English should have priority over the teaching of foreign languages has a superficial reasonableness, but such a conclusion leaves out of account some important considerations. Literacy is not an absolute term; and although illiteracy can be construed [Page 3] absolutely as the total ignorance of a single alphabetical letter or logographic character, it can also be taken to denote any lesser degree of ability to read and write than that taken as the minimum by any special definition of literacy. One is illiterate in all the languages that are unknown to one. Even in one’s own language, various degrees of literacy can be distinguished: one can be literate enough to catch the right bus but not literate enough to fill out a job application; or, able to do that, not to understand an editorial in the home town paper; or to grasp the subtleties of one’s homeowner’s insurance policy. Then there is the understanding of literature, of scientific articles, of the whole spectrum of intellectual and aesthetic concerns. It is obvious that one’s literacy cannot exceed one’s understanding; the failure to understand a scientific text is not necessarily due to a deficient “reading ability” but more probably to a deficiency of scientific knowledge. So we might define functional literacy as the ability to read matter that one’s background might reasonably have prepared one to understand. If an adolescent competent in sports cannot read the basketball rule book, to that degree he is illiterate. The great advantage of literacy defined in that way is that it leads to higher levels of understanding, that reading becomes the background that enables more reading, hitherto inaccessible, to become possible.

The proposition that literacy in one’s native language must take precedence over learning a foreign language has significance only if we specify the degree of literacy that must be attained before a foreign language may or should be undertaken. Once functional literacy at the intellectual level of the ten-year-old has been established (if not sooner), the study of foreign language, properly conducted, can only enhance the total literacy of the student. It offers an insight into linguistic structures, into the relationships of words within a structured vocabulary, into the transformability of one syntactic structure into another for stylistic and expressive purposes, that are undreamt-of by one constrained to a single language. The personal benefit of language study to the mind is indisputable.

As an entry into the hearts and minds of people who otherwise will remain hermetically alien, the study of foreign literature in the original text is indispensable. The foreign-ness simply drops away. The Cuban, for example, becomes, for one who can speak with him in his language, who reads his newspapers, his books, his justly famed and respected poetry, a human being—one whose style of being human is different from one’s own, but in a way that, viewed within the complex of its system of values and perceptions, is just as authentically human as one’s own. One becomes more human in learning how many ways there are to be human. The differences, not ignored, fully recognized for what they are, [Page 4] are nevertheless transcended; love for one’s brother and sister becomes possible in a way not open to the monoglot.

In our international relations, whether at the diplomatic level or that of the Peace Corps volunteer or the foreign service officer, we must improve our ability to communicate in foreign languages. It requires a great deal of effort to learn to speak German as well as Chancellor Schmidt speaks English. The excellence of his English seems to make the learning of German unnecessary, but the laziness of the imperialist of yore must not be allowed to cast us in that unsavory role. We should have sufficient numbers of Americans skilled in languages, from Polish to Kurdish, to meet all needs and to delight our fellow Earthlings with the evidence of our having cared enough to have made the effort to learn their language.

Bahá’ís, through the vagaries of fashion and circumstance, have remained faithful to the principle of one world. How better to manifest it than to learn foreign languages; to encourage local schools to institute, keep, or reinstitute foreign language instruction; to urge colleges to reinstate a foreign-language requirement for admission, as well as foreign-literature courses as a requirement for graduation. The Bahá’í goal of a universal auxiliary language will eventually be fulfilled; but meanwhile the channels of communication in a disintegrating world must be kept open—and that can only be, as things are, by the assiduous cultivation of foreign languages.

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Interchange LETTERS FROM AND TO THE EDITOR

WE COME to the last installment of our excerpts from Gayle Morrison’s fascinating study of Louis Gregory’s life and deeds. It is not only the story of one man endowed with the nobility of soul and steadfastness of purpose to carry out the mission assigned to him by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, but it is also the history of an important phase in the moral development of the American Bahá’í community, sometimes agonizingly slow to grasp the full measure of its responsibility in the arena of race relations. Just “being a Bahá’í” is not enough to shake the moral lethargy that often accompanies “being an American”; insistent reminders from gentle but unrelenting shepherds like Gregory, in pursuit of the goals set by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá and Shoghi Effendi, over many discouraging years and frequent setbacks, have finally made of the Bahá’í community the most consistent, convinced, and faithful force for harmonious race relations in America. No longer is awareness of “the most challenging issue” subject to fashionable waves of enthusiasm. The human rights of every segment of the American community and of the world find their most faithful defenders and promoters in Bahá’ís. The role of Louis Gregory in achieving this goal, so dear to the hearts of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá and Shoghi Effendi, is clearly set forth in Gayle Morrison’s absorbing Story.

To the Editor

THE TABLET OF WISDOM

I have read Juan Ricardo Cole’s recent article on “The Tablet of Wisdom,” and while impressed by the author’s facility with Arabic and familiarity with some medieval sources, I am disturbed by his conclusion that Bahá’u’lláh “both quoted directly and paraphrased the Muslim historians” (p. 30). That Bahá’u’lláh may or may not have quoted these historians is not the issue here; that Mr. Cole arrived at this statement on the strength of the analysis of the material on pp. 30-32 is quite surprising.

As a Bahá’í student of Islám I have often been struck by the existence of many “Bahá’í” topoi in Muslim literature. Inasmuch as most of this literature antedates the Báb, it is anachronistic to characterize such elements as “Bahá’í.” Rather, one must see such parallels as the result of a shared literary and cultural tradition (see p. 24 of the article). The tradition itself may be seen to have its beginnings in the Qur’án, a document which predates Mr. Cole’s oldest historian by roughly three hundred years.

The excerpts utilized by Mr. Cole in his attempt to prove the claim that Bahá’u’lláh quoted his Muslim historians display a vocabulary best described as philosophical and mystical technical terminology. Such locutions as “treasury of prophecy” (ma‘dan nubúwah); “whispering sounds of the heavens [or spheres—T. L.] (ḥafíf al-falak); or “station of the angels” (maqám al-malak) have been in constant use since the beginnings of Muslim scholasticism and must be regarded as formulaic. Just as it would be impossible today to speak of auto-mechanics without using such words as “engine” or “exhaust pipe,” it would have been impossible for Bahá’u’lláh to treat his subject in different words. Even if He had done so, it is doubtful whether He would have been understood. A prophet, after all, is restricted to the language of His people.

TODD LAWSON

Institute of Islamic Studies

McGill University

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Singing in the Spirit at Duchesne

They sing the way the fog clings

when the sun is finally coming through.

It’s as though their souls were mirror things,

and salvation the clearest thing they do.

They are grasses whistled by the wind,

air lifting in the palest flowers,

the sweet loosening of minds

singing prayers that lift and tower

over the words they gather between them.

They are mountains full of choir,

small bells tolling in the garden,

the finest embers of the coming fire.

—Fredrick Zydek

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To Move the World— Promoting Racial Amity, 1920-1927

BY GAYLE MORRISON

THROUGHOUT the early years of the twentieth century ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, the son and chosen successor of Bahá’u’lláh, the Prophet-Founder of the Bahá’í Faith, worked to establish in America a widening commitment to the principle of the oneness of humanity. So urgent was the task that in 1912, at the age of sixty-seven, worn by a lifetime of hardship as a religious prisoner and exile, He set out for America with His message of unity. On the day after His arrival He told a gathering in New York: “Consider me—in years of my advanced age, burdened with physical infirmities—crossing the wide ocean to look upon your faces. It is my hope that through the life of the spirit you may all become as one soul, as one tree adorning the rose-garden of the kingdom.”

‘Abdu’l-Bahá touched on unity in a general sense in a large majority of His talks to both Bahá’ís and the public during His eight-month-long visit. Often He made it clear that the greatest obstacle to unity in America was racial prejudice. He sought to demonstrate whenever possible His absolute freedom from prejudice and His disregard for the conventions of a racially divided society. At His side on these occasions was Louis Gregory, the talented black lawyer whom He had singled out to lead the Bahá’í quest for racial unity.

Privately, in conversations and in correspondence with many American Bahá’ís, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá warned of the dangers of continued racial division and discrimination. “Until these prejudices are entirely removed from the people of the world,” He wrote a Chicago Bahá’í in 1912, “the realm of humanity will not find rest. Nay, rather, discord and bloodshed will be increased day by day, and the foundation of the prosperity of the world of man will be destroyed.”

After ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s visit His predictions of worsening race relations was amply borne out. Deepening animosity toward blacks, both in the North and the South, was vented in unprovoked attacks on them and their property. Race riots, as these pogroms had been called since their inception in the early years of the century, continued to occur even during the First World War years, despite wartime preoccupations and concern for solidarity. After the war the racial conflict intensified. Black soldiers, returning victorious from battles in Europe supposedly fought in defense of democracy, were subjected to a wave of violence that spread over the whole country. The Ku Klux Klan, which had reestablished itself in the South in 1915, grew rapidly and spread north and west. Lynchings were frequent; some of the victims were soldiers still in uniform. Eleven blacks were burned alive. In the cities, where blacks and whites vied for a decreasing supply of jobs in the postwar economy, riots broke out in record numbers.

The historian John Hope Franklin has written of this time, “It was the summer of 1919, called by James Weldon Johnson ‘The Red Summer,’ that ushered in the greatest period of interracial strife the nation had [Page 10] ever witnessed. From June to the end of the year approximately 25 race riots were held in American urban centers.” As in earlier years these riots were begun by whites, as “the lawless element of the population undertook to terrorize the Negroes into submission.” But increasing numbers of blacks refused to submit:

In the post-war racial strife the Negro’s willingness to fight and to die in his own defense injected a new factor into America’s most perplexing social problem. It was no longer a case of one race intimidating another into submission. Now it was war in the full sense of the word, and Negroes were as determined to win it as they had been in Europe.

The bloodshed that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had predicted stained even the large cities of the North and touched either directly or indirectly the Bahá’í communities there. In July a riot in Washington, D.C., began with the familiar pattern: inflamed white mobs, in this case consisting mainly of white servicemen, attacked blacks. The riot turned to race warfare when white gangs attempted to burn the black district and its residents arose to defend themselves and their property. Later that month in Chicago, Bahá’ís were caught up in the worst race riot the nation had ever experienced. One Bahá’í home was bombed, and two members of a Bahá’í family were jailed briefly before the charges against them were dropped. Dr. Zia M. Bagdadi, a Persian Bahá’í who had been sent to America by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá and had become a physician in Chicago, was, as a fellow Bahá’í recalled, the one white man who went into the black sections during the riot and brought food to the hungry.

The events of the “Red Summer” of 1919, which clearly validated the warnings that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had repeatedly given about the dangers of the race situation, spurred the American Bahá’ís to a new realization of their responsibilities. On 13 August 1919, shortly after the Chicago and Washington riots, Louis Gregory was asked to meet with the Executive Board of the Bahai Temple Unity, as the national Bahá’í administrative body was then called. He and Dr. Bagdadi discussed the riots with the Board, laying much of the blame on “the greed and schemes of certain white landlords in both cities” who stood to gain from the ghettoization of blacks. The minutes of the meeting recorded that Alfred Lunt, a Boston lawyer who was one of the leading figures in the development of the Bahá’í administrative order in America, “spoke of the race question and its significance and cause and the responsibility of the Bahai bodies to proclaim the true principle which alone would alleviate race prejudice and urged a greater realization of our responsibility.”

At its September meeting the Board once again discussed “the problem of the oneness of humanity and its antagonist, race prejudice, and the best means to promote this great principle of oneness.” The minutes continued:

Letters were read from Brother Joseph Hannen, Brother Zia Bagdadi and Brother Louis G. Gregory on this subject. It was realized on the part of all the members that the problem at this time called for a definite spiritual attitude on the part of the Bahais and a more careful examination of the elements and causes of the recent outbreaks of race prejudice, and greater attention to the duty on the part of [Page 11] the Board as to the best means of promulgating and promoting this principle of human unity.

As one sign of increased concern the Board approved talks by Mr. Gregory on “The Oneness of Mankind” at both the 1920 and 1921 annual conventions.

Yet ‘Abdu’l-Bahá Himself took the issue outside the consultative meetings of the national Bahá’í administration and made it a matter of public commitment. Several months after the “Red Summer” He initiated a major response by the Bahá’ís to deteriorating race relations in America. In Louis Gregory’s words, He “set in motion a plan that was to bring the races together, attract the attention of the country, enlist the aid of famous and influential people and have a far-reaching effect upon the destiny of the nation itself.”

This plan was the initiation of a series of large, well-publicized interracial meetings, conducted not to protest some specific grievance or to seek improvement of the lot of American blacks in some particular way, but to proclaim the oneness of mankind and the brotherhood of black and white Americans (“racial amity”). In a period when segregation was still the law of much of the land and when few organizations of any kind, including churches and religious groups, stood for equality, such conferences or conventions for racial amity were literally unprecedented.

They addressed the need of many Americans, black and white, to find some ray of hope in the relations between the races. The events of the “Red Summer” had startled many whites who had never before given much thought to the racial problem. They shared the liberal minority’s dismay over the unbridled animosity that white rioters had unleashed upon blacks and particularly upon veterans of the war. Many blacks were equally concerned about the mood of their own communities. “Unrest and disappointment seized a considerable portion of the Negro population,” Franklin has observed. The tide of bitterness over the failure of democracy touched even those organizations that were working through Congress and the courts to effect change. The limitations of such organizations, soon readily apparent, contributed to the undercurrent of dissatisfaction. The Southern Interracial Commission, for example, formed in 1919 “‘to quench, if possible, the fires of racial antagonism which were flaming at that time with such deadly menace,’” sought to educate whites and stressed the importance of civil rights for blacks and of improved race relations. But the Commission never attacked segregation, which was central to the problem. Furthermore, neither the Commission nor the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People nor the Urban League reached the masses of black Americans.

The general black populace was influenced to a greater degree in this period by Marcus Garvey’s militant separatism. Garvey spoke to the real need of blacks to feel pride in their heritage and in their color. He also spoke to their bitterness toward white society and intensified the existing socioeconomic dissension among blacks. Antedating many militants of the 1960s, Garvey linked racial pride to an abandonment of belief in America, its professed ideals, and its prospects for becoming a truly democratic, multiracial society. “In his newspaper, The Negro World,” Franklin has written, “he told Negroes that racial prejudice was so much a part of the civilization of the white man that it was [Page 12] futile to appeal to his sense of justice and his high-sounding democratic principles.” Instead, Garvey urged that American blacks return to Africa to establish their own nation. His followers, mostly uneducated and recently urbanized, numbered at least a half million by the early 1920s. Their enthusiasm for Garvey’s point of view and his rhetoric represented, however, more an outlet for frustration than a serious will to leave America. Although the movement flourished, it failed to achieve its goals. Meanwhile, it did nothing to enhance the efforts of the NAACP, which Garvey rejected, or of the Pan-African congresses that W. E. B. Du Bois had organized to further the interests of blacks on an international level.

The message of the Bahá’í amity conventions was strikingly different in content and scope from anything else that was being said at the time. It spoke of pride in the context of human diversity and placed the principle of equality within the framework of a new world order. As Louis Gregory proclaimed at the first amity convention in 1921:

The divine springtime has appeared and the great enlightened principles, which are the light and progress of the whole world of humanity, are set in motion. These relate to the great peace, the universality of truth, to the great law that humanity is one, even as God is one, to the elevation of the station of woman, who must no longer be confined to a limited life but be everywhere recognized as the equal and helpmeet of man. These pertain to the universality of education, to the oneness of language, to the solution of this economic problem which has vexed the greatest minds of the world and its noblest hearts, and to that supreme dynamic power, the Holy Spirit of God, whose outpouring upon the whole world of flesh will make this a world of light, of joy, and of triumph.

These concepts enlarged the thinking of whites with regard to racial equality and strengthened the belief in modern ideals that had been shaken by the war. The Bahá’í approach also expanded the points of view of blacks, who clearly did not need to learn about the justice of racial equality, because it also stressed the importance and interrelationship of the equality of religion, nationality, and gender. The Bahá’í view upheld “the oneness and wholeness of the human race,” as Shoghi Effendi, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s grandson and the leader of the Faith after His passing, later put it, “as the hall-mark of Bahá’u’lláh’s Revelation and the pivot of His teachings,” and conferred upon human oneness the guarantee of divine inevitability.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s plan for racial amity conventions was all the more remarkable because His instructions were first implemented by a wealthy socialite, Agnes Parsons, who had never been an advocate of interracial unity. Mrs. Parsons was generally regarded as the “mother” of the Washington, D.C., Bahá’í community—not because she was one of its earliest members, for she had become a confirmed believer in the Faith only in 1910, when there were already a number of Bahá’ís there, but because of her nurturant qualities and the respect she inspired. She had entertained ‘Abdu’l-Bahá on many occasions at her elegant home in Washington and at her summer estate in Dublin, New Hampshire. A gracious and philanthropic person, she had regularly assisted many people, Bahá’ís and non-Bahá’ís alike. She had worked with Louis Gregory in Bahá’í administration and teaching projects; particularly after he gave up his professional livelihood to devote himself to the needs of the Faith, she had at times assisted him financially to attend an annual [Page 13] convention or to make a teaching trip; and she had formed a cordial relationship with him and his English wife, Louise. The man who was in 1919 the president of Fisk University, Louis Gregory’s alma mater and one of the leading black colleges, was, according to Mr. Gregory, “a spiritual protegé” [sic] of hers. Nonetheless, she was temperamentally and philosophically unsuited to direct involvement in racial amity work. Both the social equality of blacks and the issue of intermarriage were difficult for her to accept, shaped as she had been by the narrow confines of high society. Only her devotion to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá (or the Master, as He is called by Bahá’ís) and her profound desire to conform to the principles that He had taught her explain how her name came to be linked forever with the development of Bahá’í racial amity activities in America.

INDEED, Louis Gregory at first played a relatively minor role in a field in which he was later to work closely with Mrs. Parsons and which was finally to bear his stamp. Until 1927, when he was asked by the National Spiritual Assembly (as the national administrative body was called after its reorganization according to the terms of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s will) to assume major responsibility for the racial amity work, he deferred to Mrs. Parsons. He preferred to devote most of his attention to itinerant teaching in the South, where the Bahá’í Faith was not yet firmly established. In his view ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had made a perfect choice in asking Mrs. Parsons, “a white Bahá’í of wealth and social prominence,” to arrange the first amity convention. “No one could question the motives of such a soul,” he wrote a black friend some years later, “when you consider both her spiritual illumination, devotion etc., added to her worldly station.”

The new direction in Mrs. Parsons’ activities began early in 1920 during her second pilgrimage to the Bahá’í holy places in Haifa and ‘Akká, Palestine. Mariam Haney, for many years a member of the Washington Bahá’í community and a colleague in Mrs. Parsons’ amity work, has described how this American aristocrat—who, until she became a Bahá’í in her middle years, “had never known nor associated with anyone outside of her own immediate circle”—became the improbable instrument of a new activism:

During this second visit she received from ‘Abdu’l-Bahá a remarkable instruction—a command—which, carried into execution, placed her in the ranks of those who rendered pioneer services to the Cause. “The blessings that come to one are greater than those one seeks,” said ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. This instruction was not sought by Mrs. Parsons; it came to her from the heaven of the Master’s Divine Will, and was in truth and in fact a great and overwhelming surprise to Mrs. Parsons herself.

A few years later Mrs. Parsons described how ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had placed this new responsibility upon her shoulders:

One evening at supper time when there were about twenty, twenty-two or twenty-four people at the table Abdu’l-Bahá suddenly turned to me, quite out of the blue, . . . and said: “I want you to arrange a convention in Washington for amity between the colored and the white.” I thought I would like to go through the floor, because I did not feel I could do it. He said: “You must have people to help you.” I waited for more instructions and he said nothing more. I then made an appeal. I said “Mr. and Mrs. So and So will also help me.” This man was in official [Page 14] life and I thought they could help me, at that moment. He said [:] “He is interested in his own people, but she might help you.” Well, then a very extraordinary thing happened. I felt suddenly the power of his creative words. . . . I was really getting the confidence that of course was necessary, and Abdu’l-Bahá said absolutely nothing more to me. I was hoping every day that I would have some more instructions, but he did not give it [sic] to me.

Agnes Parsons returned to the United States with newfound confidence but little idea of how to proceed. She had never organized a major event, although she had been involved in administrative activities as a member of the Executive Board of Bahai Temple Unity and of the Washington community. Furthermore, having overcome much in herself even to achieve a nonactivist stand on racial unity, she found it difficult immediately to assume a new role. Finally, “many of her most influential friends were heedless and indifferent.” “The summer passed,” she recalled, “and I had the convention very much on my heart, but nothing seemed to be developing until Mrs. [Louise] Boyle arranged that I should see ex-Senator [Moses B.] Clapp [of Nebraska], who had always been a great friend of the colored people. We had a talk for about two hours, in Mrs. Boyle’s apartment, and he was undoubtedly the instrument whom Abdu’l-Bahá used to give me the plan.” The plan that the senator suggested was to get a group of women to help organize the convention and to adopt a “conventional” approach (by which he meant to avoid creating an impression of political extremism or polarization, which had made enemies for many liberal reformers) in order not to alienate conservatives. He urged that protest be avoided and a positive note struck. Indeed, his advice became Mrs. Parsons’ byword: “‘Do not make a protest about anything. Lift the whole matter up into the spiritual realm and work for the creation of sentiment.’”

This thought appealed to Mrs. Parsons’ strong instinct to avoid too combative or controversial an approach to the subject. It was even echoed—for different reasons—by Louis Gregory when she turned to him for advice. He was not in any way reluctant to be bold, but he was tired of empty rhetoric. “Nothing short of a change of hearts will do,” he wrote her. “Unless the speakers are able to make the power of love felt, the occasion will lose its chief value.” He saw the purely social or economic interracial conferences, such as those held under the auspices of the Commission on Interracial Cooperation, as having been largely unproductive. Interracial committees, formed throughout the South on the local and state level, were carrying out educational activities designed to improve race relations. But the Commission, which received public support from many white leaders and officials in the South, was limited in both its scope and its purpose: it reached only the relatively enlightened minority, and it sought simply to reduce the excesses of racial discrimination, rather than to promote unity and integration. Mr. Gregory felt that people of good will met and talked at Commission functions but that nothing more was accomplished because a spiritual remedy was lacking:

There are many, many souls throughout the South today who are working and longing for a better day. But without the Light of Abha [Bahá’u’lláh] their efforts [Page 15] seem infantile and helpless. Even some members of the state inter-racial committee, earnest, thoughtful, hard-working men, have voiced to me despair. If the Washington inter-racial congress is along these conventional lines I fear it will like the others, be fruitless. But if it be aflame with the Fire of the Divine Love, the hearts will be powerfully influenced and the effect will be great in all the years to come.

The convention that Louis Gregory envisioned was in no way conventional. He urged adoption of a fairly direct Bahá’í program. Moreover, he stressed that the convention “be held very soon, as the situation seems to be getting more critical day by day, this despite the fact that many earnest and sincere souls of both races are striving for harmony and understanding.” Adding to a sense of urgency, as he reminded Mrs. Parsons, were ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s recent words to Dr. Bagdadi: “‘Now is the time for the Americans to take up this matter and unite both the white and the colored races. Otherwise, hasten ye towards destruction! Hasten ye toward devastation.’”

When Mrs. Parsons sought people to help her plan the convention, as ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had suggested, “she took as consultants the local Spiritual Assembly and a few personal friends, gradually widening the circle,” Louis Gregory recalled. Mariam Haney described the committee that was finally formed as having been “helpful, active and earnest.” Its members were Mrs. Parsons, Mrs. Haney, Mrs. Boyle, Gabrielle Pelham, and Martha Root. The committee scheduled the convention for 19-21 May 1921 at Washington’s First Congregational Church. It was to be “the first convention for amity between the white and colored races in America,” Mr. Gregory claimed, “and so far as we know, the world.”

Confronted with the task of arranging and publicizing a major interracial meeting in the nation’s capital, which less than two years earlier had been torn apart by one of the “Red Summer’s” worst riots, the convention organizers met an unexpectedly positive response. “The workers had unusual experiences,” Mr. Gregory reported, “and the spirit of reconciliation seemed to sweep the city.” Help came from many sources. Following Senator Clapp’s suggestion, Mrs. Parsons turned to the women of her elite circle for assistance. “Nineteen ladies from the social life of the city,” wrote Louis Gregory, “gave the prestige of their names as patrons.” A senator and two congressmen agreed to speak at the convention, and a commanding general of the United States Army sent a message to be read. President Warren Harding knew about the convention, according to Mr. Gregory, and unofficially supported it. Howard University, where ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had spoken in 1912, provided valuable assistance, responding “in a way that showed the fruitage of seed sown by the Master nine years before.” The extensive newspaper publicity for the convention was handled by Martha Root, a journalist who was soon to become the outstanding international Bahá’í teacher of the period. Nineteen thousand programs were circulated in churches, schools, hotels, stores, and other public places. The program [Page 16] straightforwardly announced the purpose of the convention and was thought-provoking in itself:

Half a century ago in America slavery was abolished.

Now there has arisen need for another great effort in order that prejudice may be overcome.

Correction of the present wrong requires no army, for the field of action is the hearts of our citizens. The instrument to be used is kindness, the ammunition—understanding. The actors in this engagement for right are all the inhabitants of these United States.

The great work we have to do and for which this convention is called is the establishment of amity between the white and colored people of our land.

When we have put our own house in order, then we may be trusted to carry the message of universal peace to all mankind.

The problem that Louis Gregory had raised—whether to have the Bahá’í perspective dominate the program—was solved by a compromise. Bahá’ís were asked to serve as chairmen of the sessions or to give addresses. They included distinguished whites such as William H. Randall, Albert Vail, Mountfort Mills, and Howard MacNutt, and blacks such as Louis Gregory, Coralie F. Cook, and Alexander H. Martin. The organizers undoubtedly hoped that the Bahá’ís would help to create a harmonious atmosphere. Additionally, Mrs. Parsons talked with each of the non-Bahá’í speakers: “To the men in public life who spoke I always said: ‘Don’t make it a question of putting anything through, any personal thought, but just speak in a very general way.’ Then I used to quote Senator Clapp’s words: ‘Lift the whole matter up into the spiritual realm and work for the creation of sentiment.’” Still there could be no prior assurance that the meetings would not degenerate into the sort that Louise Gregory had found to be fruitless, where people talked about and despaired over improvements that they could not hope to achieve without effecting a “change of hearts.”

The first sign of success was the large audience that gathered for the opening session on Thursday evening, 19 May. About two thousand people waited expectantly for Mr. Randall to begin the meeting. Then, as Mrs. Parsons described it, his remarks were so appropriate that they infected even his fellow speakers with a spirit of unity:

At each session of the convention there was a Bahai Chairman and the chairman invariably gave the keynote for the whole evening. One of these senators the first night turned to Mr. Randall and said: “I was going to make a political speech, but would it be better for me to try to follow what you have said in a harmonious way?” Mr. Randall said: “I think it would be a very good plan.” So the man changed his speech. Each night that happened. The men probably came with the idea of giving their own personal ideas about this wrong, and that wrong, but they invariably [Page 17] spoke along the line that the chairman had indicated.

The spirit established at that first meeting pervaded subsequent sessions, two in the daytime, which were well attended, and two more on the evenings of the 20th and 21st, which also drew crowds of fifteen hundred or more. Interest was maintained by a wide variety of musical presentations, from traditional spirituals to works by a black composer, performed by the Howard University chorus, to a violin solo by Joseph Douglass, a grandson of Frederick Douglass. The talks were equally varied. One featured the works of black poets, foreshadowing the surge of black literary activity later in the 1920s called the Negro or Harlem Renaissance. The man who was to become the “acknowledged dean” and “liaison officer” of the Renaissance, Howard philosophy professor and first black Rhodes scholar Alain Locke, chaired an evening session.

For the Bahá’ís the significance of the convention was made irrefutable by a special message from ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, related by Mountfort Mills, who had just returned from a pilgrimage to Haifa:

“Say to this convention that never since the beginning of time has one more important been held. This convention stands for the oneness of humanity; it will become the cause of the enlightenment of America. It will, if wisely managed and continued, check the deadly struggle between these races which otherwise will inevitably break out.”

Louis Gregory’s highest hopes for the gathering had been realized. Many non-Bahá’í speakers had been involved, yet all had conformed to his idea that “there should be the real love of mankind for the sake of God among those who take part.” He had told Mrs. Parsons that numbers present mattered far less than the spirit of the convention; in fact, both excellent attendance and extraordinary spirit were achieved. Besides the thousands of people who attended, many thousands more were reached by the printed program with its statements on the abolition of racial prejudice.

The convention also represented a great victory for the Washington Bahá’ís, who had for many years struggled with the principle of human oneness, often failing to confront the corrosive effects of prejudice within their own community. Neither Mrs. Parsons nor most of the other white Bahá’ís were by nature liberal reformers committed to the cause of civil rights for blacks. Rather, their belief in Bahá’u’lláh superimposed new values over the natural inclinations of their background and training and created growing commitment to a wide range of social causes—such as the equality of men and women, economic reform, disarmament and world peace, and the adoption of a universal auxiliary language —within a framework of individual spiritual rejuvenation.

The amity convention was also important historically because it was the first of its kind, the first conference on race to focus on interracial accord and to reach beyond the confines of the liberal reform movement. It clearly established to large numbers of people, both black and white, the Bahá’í principles of unity. It also inspired other groups to action. “An interesting after effect of the first amity convention,” Louis Gregory observed, “was the stimulus it gave to orthodox people [that is, members of the established churches and religious groups], who started the organization of interracial committees very soon thereafter.”

In other respects, however, the convention cannot be evaluated in terms of measurable [Page 18] results. Unlike an antilynching crusade, for example, or some other campaign against a specific problem or grievance, the convention attempted to promote fundamental attitudinal change about human rights and the universality of human dignity. Progress in such an endeavor can scarcely be perceived, let alone evaluated. Indeed, even the most concrete forces shaping the movement for black equality in the twentieth century, as C. Vann Woodward emphasizes in The Strange Career of Jim Crow, are difficult to assess:

It will long be a matter of debate as to the relative importance played by the agitators, foreign and domestic propaganda, the courts, the White House, party politics, two or three wars, postwar prosperity, the seemingly interminable Cold War, or the dubious influence of nationalism and oppressive conformity working in a new direction. It would be foolhardy to attempt, with no more than the foreshortened and distorting perspective we now have, to arrive at anything more than a very tentative assessment of the bewilderingly complex forces involved and the relative importance of the part each has played.

The evaluation of ideas and their agitation is most difficult because of the impossibility of measuring the results.

Yet it was in this realm of “ideas and their agitation” that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s program for racial amity had its greatest impact. Woodward points out some of the major forces leading toward a modern reconstruction in race relations. Striking links between the Bahá’í Faith and several of these forces— the NAACP, the Harlem Renaissance, and changing “religious sentiment”—testify to the success of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s efforts to put Bahá’í thought into the forefront of the movement for social change.

The NAACP welcomed ‘Abdu’l-Bahá as a featured speaker during its fourth annual convention in Chicago in 1912 and published excerpts from His talk in its journal, Crisis. Thereafter, its leaders, along with those of the Urban League, maintained close ties with the Bahá’ís and supported many Bahá’í interracial activities, particularly in the 1920s and 1930s. In fact, through ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s addresses in 1912 and the series of amity activities He initiated in 1920, the Bahá’í message of unity reached virtually all of the leaders concerned with the struggle for racial equality in America: W. E. B. Du Bois, James Weldon Johnson, Walter F. White, Arthur B. Spingarn, John Hope, Mary White Ovington, Jane Addams, Stephen S. Wise, Franz Boas, and Robert S. Abbott, to name a few. On one occasion—a banquet in New York City in 1932 sponsored by the national Bahá’í interracial committee in honor of the NAACP and the Urban League —Walter F. White, then secretary of the NAACP, praised “the Bahá’í movement,” according to an account in the Chicago Defender, calling it “one of the great forces of human understanding.”

The second force for change in race relations cited by Woodward, the Harlem Renaissance, is indisputably connected with the Bahá’í teachings by the person of Alain Locke. Locke’s contributions to the upsurge of black literary activity in the 1920s coincided with the intensification of his interest in the Bahá’í Faith. Attracted to its teachings even before he participated in the first amity convention, Locke made a Bahá’í lecture tour to the South in 1925; at about the same time his anthology The New Negro was published. Later in the decade he became an active member of the national Bahá’í interracial amity committee and visited the international headquarters of the Faith in Haifa.

Finally, in the area of “religious sentiment,” [Page 19] the Bahá’í Faith was not only the first religion to initiate racial amity activities in America but the first to elicit interfaith support. At first, help was sought from other religions; the Washington convention, for example, was held in a Congregational church, was promoted from many pulpits, and was begun with an invocation by a Christian minister. Later, when other groups such as the Friends had begun to hold similar conferences, the Bahá’ís lent their support. The concern of the Bahá’ís to gain the backing of religious leaders and of their congregations helped to create a new climate of opinion about race in religious circles.

Every Bahá’í connected with the conventions felt, as well as believed in, their power to effect change. In His statements concerning the race issue ‘Abdu’l-Bahá always emphasized the importance of intangible results within the realm of ideas, of social change made meaningful by a change of heart and a new spirit. “It is this spirit of oneness,” He wrote to Mrs. Parsons shortly before the first convention, “which imparts new life to the hearts of the people of the world.” He described the effect of “this spirit of oneness” on Mrs. Parsons herself. “Really thou art a true Bahai,” He told her, “and the fire of the love of God is in fervor in thy heart. Therefore thou art the cause of the promulgation of the Teachings of God and strivest after harmony between the white and the colored.” Thus she was impelled toward a course of action of far-reaching importance for her and for race relations in America. “The formation of the Congress for the colored and the white is productive of eternal glory for thee,” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá assured her, “and is conducive to the comfort and ease of the continent of America, because if the colored and the white do not acquire harmony between them, there will appear great difficulties in the future.”

IN THE MONTHS following the convention ‘Abdu’l-Bahá wrote several letters to Mrs. Parsons in which He praised both the convention and her efforts and assured her of good results. In July He exclaimed, “Praise be to God that the Race Convention was carried through in utmost perfection.” And in October:

The Convention of the colored and the white was in reality a great work. Because if the question of the colored and the white should not be solved, it would be productive of great dangers in future for America. Therefore . . . confirmation . . . shall constantly reach any person who strives after the conciliation of the colored and the white. Thank thou God that thou art the first person who established a Race Convention.

In another letter ‘Abdu’l-Bahá referred to the Washington convention as having been the first of many to come. Such meetings would be held in other places as well, He said, but Washington would always be an important location “because in that city there is great animosity between the white and the colored” and because there “Abdu’l-Bahá himself laid the foundation of this unity and harmony in the assemblies, churches and universities of the colored and white; and thou certainly rememberest the speeches which were delivered.” And finally:

The Convention comprising the white :and the colored, which thou hadst organized, was like the Mother, from which in near future many other meetings shall be born. But thou wert the founder of [Page 20] this Convention. The importance of every principle is at the beginning, and the first person to raise the banner of the unity of the white and the colored, wert thou. It is certain that it shall bear great results.

The first child of that mother convention was in a sense a stepchild, as it neither followed any specific request of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s nor involved Mrs. Parsons directly. It was born, however, in an abundance of enthusiasm, received ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s special permission, and gained its own measure of success. At the 1922 national Bahá’í convention, the first after the passing of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in November 1921, Roy Williams, a black Bahá’í who had joined Louis Gregory as an itinerant teacher in the South, was asked to explain how that convention came to be held. “Last fall,” he told the delegates,

I received a call from Springfield, Massachusetts. . . . I went there with the intention of simply holding a few group meetings, but to my intense astonishment, when I got there I was informed someone who had journeyed to the Washington convention had so interested the people in Springfield, including several ministers, in the possibility of organizing a similar race convention that they had taken up the idea with the intention of promoting it at once when I arrived. . . .

The Bahá’í community of Springfield at that time consisted of only two people, Olive Kretz and Grace Decker. Even with Mr. Williams’ help lack of manpower posed an initial problem. A second obstacle emerged when Williams told of Mrs. Parsons’ instructions, recently received from ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, to organize the next convention in New York or, if a majority of Bahá’ís preferred, San Francisco. The three Bahá’ís decided to see whether there would be sufficient public support to warrant holding a convention in Springfield. When they had ascertained that there was, they sent a cablegram to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá on 8 November 1921, requesting permission to hold the convention. Three days later their doubts about the appropriateness of their plans were resolved by a return cable from the Master. His message constituted, as Williams put it, probably “his last words affirming a public service by the Bahais of America.” It read: “‘Approved; God confirms.’” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá passed away on 28 November, and the convention was held as scheduled on 5 and 6 December, in the first bleak days following the loss of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá and before the announcement that in His will He had appointed Shoghi Effendi, His grandson, as His successor, the Guardian of the Bahá’í Cause. Thus, inadvertently, the Springfield amity convention was the first major demonstration of the resolve of the American Bahá’ís to carry out ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s plans for them after His passing.

The mayor of Springfield helped secure a hall free of charge. It was the auditorium of the Central High School, the second largest hall in the city. Those who agreed to speak included the mayor, a rabbi, a military officer, three ministers, and four Bahá’ís: Roy Williams, Alfred Lunt, and William H. Randall of Boston, and Dr. Bagdadi, who had also given a well-received address at Howard University that year. Several clergymen and concerned citizens assisted with preparations. Thus there was an encouraging show of support beforehand; however, no one could be certain that many people would attend. Even Mr. Randall, who had witnessed the success of the Washington convention, had his doubts. As Mr. Williams recalled it:

Mr. Randall told me when he came to [Page 21] Springfield, “You will not be able to get a very large number of people there. Springfield is a very conservative city.” I said, “Mr. Randall, here is the cablegram from Abdul Baha. God confirms. Let us go to the hall and see what God confirms.” Mr. Randall told me himself . . . he did not expect to see nearly a thousand people in front of him, representatives of all races and colors, and all creeds. He said, “This is indeed the confirmation of God”. . . .

The large audience of about equal numbers of blacks and whites grew even larger the second night. Thus a tiny Bahá’í group was able to organize a convention that reached thousands of people, directly or indirectly. The success of the endeavor demonstrated the potential of the program that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had fostered, as Roy Williams pointed out to the assembled delegates six months later:

I hope that the friends will think and pray that more of these conventions may really be put forth quickly because the need is great, and the good that is done through one of these meetings is immense and immeasurable, even as a means of giving the [Bahá’í] message to a large number of people, of different classes. It is the most successful way I have ever seen of getting people together, and the way in which people answer the call for these conventions and come out en masse is something unusual.

Despite the glowing reports by Mrs. Parsons and Mr. Williams, it was nearly two years before the next amity convention was held. Partial explanation lies in the difficult transition from the “Heroic Age” of Bahá’í history, as Shoghi Effendi has called the period from 1844 to the passing of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, to its “Formative Age.” As Ugo Giachery, a close associate of Shoghi Effendi’s, has observed, these were years of uncertainty:

The old believers, in East and West, were slowly recovering from the extremely severe loss of their beloved ‘Abdu’l-Bahá and from the shock of what appeared to them to be an irreparable vacuum in the affairs of the Cause. The newer believers were trying with difficulty to become part of the as yet dimly understood administrative pattern.

When the third amity convention was finally held, however, it built upon the achievements of those that had been carried out with ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s blessing. It was held in New York, as ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had recommended, on 28-30 March 1924. The Washington and Springfield conventions had received valuable assistance from churches and public officials. New York went a step further by inviting a number of civic groups to join in the planning. These included, according to Louis Gregory, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, the National Urban League, and the Committee on International Cooperation of the League of Women Voters. Emphasis was placed not only on black-white race relations but on other races and ethnic minorities as well. The impressive list of speakers included James Weldon Johnson, secretary of the NAACP; Jane Addams; Alain Locke; John Herman Randall of the Community Church; Rabbi Stephen S. Wise; Franz Boas, Professor of Anthropology at Columbia University; and Roy Wilhelm, Horace Holley, and Mountfort Mills, representing the Bahá’ís.

The talk by Dr. Boas was undoubtedly one of the high points of the convention. For the first time in any of the race amity meetings a scientific argument against racism was added to the moral and philosophical themes. The significance and controversial nature of such an approach must be seen in light of the times, when physical evolution was hotly denied by many religious leaders and was [Page 22] excluded from the curriculum of many schools, when racial bias clearly influenced the setting of U.S. immigration quotas, and when racialist theories still flourished, even in academic circles. The stature of Dr. Boas, who is considered one of the founders of the discipline of anthropology, assured that advanced scientific thought was well represented at the convention. Indeed, no one was better qualified to challenge the myth of white racial superiority. Boas’ work, later vilified by the Nazis, was used by those who opposed the discriminatory immigration quotas in the 1920s and also helped to influence the struggle for civil rights in the 1950s.

Thus the New York convention was even more successful in some respects than the mother-convention in Washington, which ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had described as a “great work.” “This praiseworthy effort,” Louis Gregory observed, “showed the possibilities of the work and led to a brilliant succession of similar conferences, interracial dinners and fellowship meetings. . . .” It helped to put the New York Bahá’í community, which had already been teaching actively in Harlem, into the forefront of racial amity activities for many years to come. It also seems to have spurred the appointment of a national Amity Convention Committee by the National Spiritual Assembly, the newly formed administrative body of the Bahá’ís of the United States and Canada. On 19 May 1924 a letter from Horace Holley, secretary of the National Assembly, was sent to all Local Spiritual Assemblies, announcing the formation of the committee and the appointment of Agnes Parsons, Elizabeth Greenleaf, Mariam Haney, Alain Locke, Mabel Ives, Louise Waite, Louise Boyle, Roy Williams, Philip R. Seville, and Mrs. Atwater as members.

A fourth convention was held several months later in Philadelphia. Once again, as in Springfield, Roy Williams played a key role in the convention. The secretary of the Philadelphia Spiritual Assembly, Jessie Revell, reported that it was “our brother Roy Williams, member of the National Amity Committee, who first planted the seed of the Amity Convention in this City and worked in conjunction with the Phila. Amity Committee and were it not for his earnestness and enthusiasm, we probably would not have held it at this time.”

Although Louis Gregory was not a member of the national committee, he too became involved in preparations for the convention, which was scheduled for 22-23 October 1924. He arrived in Philadelphia several weeks beforehand on his return east from a successful teaching venture in a black summer colony in Northern Michigan and a subsequent visit to Columbus, Ohio. “Mr. Gregory,” Jessie Revell wrote, “. . . spent about a month with us and worked faithfully writing articles for newspapers, spoke in many meetings telling of the coming Amity Convention and served in innumerable other ways.” She added that “the Philadelphia Tribune, a . . . weekly paper of the colored population, published very fine articles both before and after the meetings, written up by Mr. Gregory.”

Because the Philadelphia convention was held solely under Bahá’í auspices, and the number of Bahá’ís in the city was small, the assistance of Bahá’ís from other cities proved to be essential. Among those who helped, in addition to Mr. Williams and Mr. Gregory, was Mrs. Parsons, who came to Philadelphia to discuss general planning with the committee. Mason Remey of Washington, D.C., made signs and distributed programs, and Louise Boyle worked on publicity. The National Spiritual Assembly supported the convention with funds.

[Page 23] The printed program clearly announced the convention’s Bahá’í sponsorship and provided a brief history of the series of “Interracial Congresses” that had preceded it. It featured a quotation from Jesus (“These things I command you, that ye love one another.”) and six passages from the writings of Bahá’u’lláh and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. Copies were sent to the clergymen of Philadelphia together with a cover letter from Miss Revell, asking that the convention be announced to their congregations and seeking their support. She later reported that “several ministers distributed programs to their congregation the Sunday prior to the Convention.”

About six hundred people attended the first session of the convention, chaired by Horace Holley of New York, to hear lectures by Agnes L. Tierney, a member of the Society of Friends; Leslie Pinckney Hill, the black principal of a teacher training school; and Albert Vail, a former minister from Illinois who had become an outstanding Bahá’í speaker. Excellent press notices the following day helped to boost attendance at the second session to nine hundred. Particularly noteworthy was “a very long article” in the newspaper Jewish World, which urged people to attend. The chairman for the second session was Dr. Bagdadi. The speakers were Alain Locke, who discussed “Negro Art and Culture”; Judge John M. Patterson of Philadelphia; Louis Gregory; and Hooper Harris, a Bahá’í from New York.

The following day, 24 October, the Bahá’ís supported a Conference on Inter-racial Justice organized by the friends. Louis Gregory spoke at the conference’s dinner meeting. “It had so happened,” he later recalled, “that the Bahá’ís and the Society of Friends at the same time, as moved by one Spirit, had planned interracial conferences. As the dates selected were contiguous but not conflicting, each agreed to boost the spiritual enterprise of the other as well as its own. The result was phenomenal success for both.” Follow-up meetings, at which both Albert Vail and Louis Gregory spoke, were also held by the Bahá’ís on 25 and 26 October.

AS IN 1921, however, racial amity activities lost momentum after the second convention of the year. Although the 1924 conventions were as successful as their predecessors and a National Amity Convention Committee had been appointed to assure continuity, the Philadelphia convention was the last to be held until a burst of amity activity animated the American Bahá’í community in 1927. During the hiatus Louis Gregory was particularly concerned about the neglect of racial amity work in Washington, D.C., where the Bahá’í community had been deeply affected by dissension over race and where much had been overcome in order to hold the first race amity convention in 1921. Although the Gregorys had moved from Washington to Somerville, Massachusetts, he returned often to the city on his way to and from teaching tours in the South. It was during such a visit late in 1924 that he wrote to Horace Holley, as secretary of the National Spiritual Assembly, of his frustration with the Washington Bahá’ís’ lethargy in the face of a racial situation that had deteriorated rather than improved since ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had warned of its dangers. Motivated by his own intense concern over the social climate of the city and over the disregard of the Bahá’ís for ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s warnings, Mr. Gregory confided that

it is hoped that an Amity Convention may [Page 24] be held here next spring. It is greatly needed. It is now to see all the members of this assembly who are seeable to urge closer unity and cooperation. Would this particular job were yours rather than mine! Yet there is hope ahead. So many thoughts resolve around small things, as what this or that person has said or done. It is the hope that by concentrating upon something big, something to relieve humanity, like the holding of an Amity Convention or the organizing of an interracial committee, thoughts may be removed from personal realms and harmony established.

He enclosed with this letter a copy of a proposal he had written, entitled “An Interracial Committee: Its Great Need, and How It Can Serve Washington, the Nation, and the World.” In it he claimed that “there is no more vital need today . . . than a Committee on Race Relations and Good Will in the national capital.” Sketching the “dark background” of the racial situation, he observed:

The stranger to American institutions, the visitor who comes from foreign lands, finds conditions here that are passing strange. Impressed in his own country by reports from America, (and often the only news about this country that reaches foreign lands is that of inter-racial clashes, so often resulting in bloodshed) the visitor would find upon his arrival here that the hopes, ideals, convictions and accomplishments of the hundred thousand colored people who reside in the District of Columbia are as vague and unknown to the greater number of their white neighbors as if the colored people were citizens of another land. The two races little understand each Other. Apprehensions, imaginations, prejudices, resentments, fears, hatreds destroy confidence in each other’s good intentions and create a wall of separation which is generally thought impassable.

The danger of the situation is extremely grave. This city which is a nation’s pride has already been disgraced by rioting and lawlessness on the part of mobs, during which shots were fired even within a block of the White House, and scenes of like [nature] are continually threatened. The feelings of many people are bitter and intense. Such feelings are the augury of no good. Wherever in the world today there is hatred of class for class, nation for nation, race for race, tragedy lurks. Its outbreak may be delayed, but unless sentiments are changed it cannot be prevented.

Mr. Gregory went on to note the signs of positive change in Washington and elsewhere. “The spirit of cooperation grows in the world,” he reflected. “The ideal of brotherhood grows, even though men attain it after untold disaster, suffering and ruin.” In Washington itself people were “nobly interested in the welfare of humanity in foreign lands.” He asked, “Should they not be equally interested in the solution of a problem which daily confronts them in their own environment?” Because of Washington’s importance as the nation’s capital, its achievements would have wide-ranging consequences: “Should Washington set a high example in the solution of her own domestic problem on a basis of justice, [kindliness] and altruism, the result will be felt throughout the nation and the earth.” The city had considerable resources, moreover, upon which to draw in organizing racial amity work: a handful of integrated civic organizations, some concerned religious groups, and a relatively well-to-do black population with the [Page 25] nation’s greatest concentration of black professionals, business people, and public servants. The only requirements remaining were the will, the vision, and the dedication to undertake the task. And the Bahá’ís, he added in a subsequent letter, could easily take the initiative: “Efforts of the clergy to conduct such a committee here have utterly failed, so the Bahá’ís have an open field, if guided to use it.”

But Washington did not form an interracial committee for a number of years, nor did it hold an amity convention in the spring, as Mr. Gregory had hoped. Neither did any other Bahá’í community. The National Amity Convention Committee continued to function and make plans between 1924 and 1926, but it was hampered by a severe shortage of funds and by a residual reticence in Washington, where the committee was centered, about maintaining an active interracial program. Plans to hold a convention there were set aside twice, first in April 1925, then again in the following spring. By the summer of 1926 the National Spiritual Assembly was promoting a major new emphasis in its approach to the public: a program of world unity conferences that were intended to provide a forum for those interested in the varied aspects of a world-embracing spirit of unity. A special committee was appointed to coordinate world unity conferences, and the race amity committee was dropped.

Louis Gregory supported and participated in the new series of conferences. Yet he and others who were committed to a forthright stand on race were troubled to find it missing from the world unity format. Gradually, as it became apparent that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s plan for public conventions or conferences on racial amity was in danger of being forgotten, Mr. Gregory took on the responsibility of keeping the idea alive. “It is clearly my duty,” he wrote Mrs. Parsons early in 1927, “to keep this matter before the attention of the people as far as possible and without causing inharmony.” His method, he continued, was to encourage them to hold world unity conferences, if they wished, but to continue to urge commitment to racial amity as well:

the Washington friends, like many others, are now planning a world unity convention. It is my hope and prayer that each and all give hearty support to this. The title is picturesque and appealing. . . . Perhaps these friends, if supported now by those who prefer an Amity Convention, will later respond and assist what to some of us seems the more vital need.

Meanwhile, he also sought to spur Mrs. Parsons herself to action in behalf of race amity. When he asked her to remind the National Spiritual Assembly of the Master’s instructions to her with regard to the amity conventions, his words of caution were obviously intended for her as well: “It appears that there is considerable misunderstanding about the grave and transcendent importance of this matter and the vital need of quick action. It may soon be too late, I fear.”

In a letter to the National Assembly, written during the same period, Mr. Gregory clearly expressed his position on the issue of race in the Bahá’í community. Prevented by a prior commitment from attending a special consultation on racial amity called by the National Assembly, he put his thoughts on paper instead:

I do not wish to dwell too much upon these matters, as there is always danger that one’s individual work may absorb the point of view. One of the Baha’i ideals is an unfailing sense of proportion, which relates each activity to the general advancement of the Cause. Yet on the other hand, the tremendous emphasis given the [Page 26] subject of inter-racial understanding by the Master Himself would seem to command all forces of mind and heart among all the friends. It cannot be a side issue. It is always to the fore whether one wants it or not. During two and a half centuries America attempted to settle the problem of races by a series of compromises. All of of these failed and made inevitable the great issue of war out of the suffering of which there came a revolution in the organic law decreeing justice for all men. Present difficulties are due to lax enforcement of such laws, the spirit of which does not reach the masses. This never will be effective until aided and directed by the Spirit of God. Unless the teachings of the Universal [Educator,] Baha’u’llah[,] are presented and accepted, there is nothing but chaos ahead. How great therefore is the responsibility of those who have the only remedy that will heal.

In fact, as it later became apparent, the National Spiritual Assembly’s invitation to a special consultation was the first step toward a consistent policy of support for interracial activities. It would lead to a major effort to put racial amity “to the fore” on the agenda of the American Bahá’ís. Thereafter, Louis Gregory, who had been content to play a secondary role in the first series of amity conventions from 1921 to 1924, would assume a place at the heart of race amity activities. An energetic new amity program was soon begun, world unity conferences were replaced by amity conferences, and the American Bahá’í community was infused with a fresh awareness of the need for change in race relations.

The National Assembly’s invitation to the consultation was addressed to a group of black and white Bahá’ís who had been active participants in the first four amity conventions: Louis Gregory, Agnes Parsons, Louise Boyle, Alain Locke, Leslie Pinckney Hill, Roy Williams, Zia Bagdadi, Mariam Haney, and Coralie F. Cook. It read, in part:

In view of the overwhelming importance of the racial amity problem in this country, and desiring to assist in any constructive plans that might be advanced by those of the friends who have given this subject deepest thought, the National Spiritual Assembly has voted to invite you to attend a special conference on the subject of racial amity to be held in Washington, D.C. on January 9th. The hope is that it will be possible for you to spend perhaps a day as a committee in drawing up some constructive plan of promoting racial amity and present this to the National Assembly at a joint meeting the evening of the same day.

As he was about to leave for Dayton, Ohio, Mr. Gregory wrote to assure the National Assembly that “the workers mentioned in your letter will all be able to tell much that is healing, constructive and heartening” and that “Prof. Locke and Mrs. Boyle who are particularly well informed with regard to the inter-racial work in the Southern states will doubtless be able to bring forth much that is illuminating and helpful.” For his part, motivated by concern over the National Spiritual Assembly’s support for world unity conferences at the expense of racial amity, Louis Gregory suggested that race might at least be included in the format. “If there are three sessions to consider world unity,” he proposed, “devote one to international unity, another to religious unity and the third to inter-racial unity. These are the three greatest needs of the world of humanity.” Undoubtedly his thinking helped to shape the [Page 27] Dayton World Unity Conference in which he participated little more than a week later, for the first session was devoted to racial unity.

When the special committee met in Washington, seven of those invited—all but Mr. Gregory and Professor Hill—were present. The group’s recommendations to the National Assembly were that a National Amity Committee be created and that the Local Spiritual Assemblies be encouraged to engage in interracial work and to cooperate with the national committee; that a national program “to stimulate racial activity by the local Assemblies” be formulated; that opportunities to publicize Bahá’í views and activities be utilized and that a concerted effort be made to inform “‘the wise men of the nation’” of the Bahá’í teachings on interracial harmony. At the bottom of the work copy of these recommendations someone had written, “We realize that the plans suggested cannot bring forth the desired results until every believer purifies his heart from any trace of race prejudice.”

The National Spiritual Assembly responded by immediately appointing a National Bahá’í Committee on Racial Amity, with its functions based upon the Washington recommendations. Mrs. Parsons was appointed chairman and Mr. Gregory executive secretary. The other members were Mrs. Boyle, Mrs. Haney, Mrs. Cook, Dr. Bagdadi, and Dr. Locke. The new committee was directed to concentrate on three areas of activity: preparing a compilation on race amity for general distribution; holding race amity conferences in cooperation with Local Assemblies; and bringing the Bahá’í teachings to the attention of other groups working for unity. The National Assembly voiced the hope “that the Racial Amity Committee will stand in the forefront of the Bahá’í teaching effort in this country. . . In March the announcement of the new committee in the Baha’i News Letter noted that “the importance of this work cannot be overestimated by the American believers.” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s remarks concerning the first amity convention were quoted, and the committee’s objectives were listed. Finally, the National Assembly stressed the role of the individual, for “the success of efforts by Bahá’ís to heal this spiritual sickness afflicting the body of humanity depends upon each worker purifying his own heart from all trace of racial prejudice.”

The first obstacle the committee faced concerned its organization. Louis Gregory had been “unanimously” chosen by the National Spiritual Assembly as the committee’s executive secretary. “We feel,” the National Assembly’s letter of appointment stated, “that this field of service will by no means limit Mr. Gregory’s capacity as a Bahá’í teacher, but, on the contrary, greatly increase the results of his service by a better organization of his time and effort.” He had some serious reservations, however. He had always preferred the role of teacher to that of administrator. He frequently referred to teaching as “the most divinely emphasized” and “the most confirmed” of all Bahá’í activities. Long committed to traveling in behalf of the Faith, he had been on a trip when the decision to appoint the committee was made, and another trip had prevented him from attending the special consultation in Washington. Moreover, his wife, Louise, had just gone to Europe to teach the Bahá’í Faith, and he had planned to spend his time during her absence on similar efforts on the homefront. His plans seemed incompatible with the duties of an executive secretary. He wrote [Page 28] Louise Boyle that, in her words, “he did not know why ‘a roving secretary’ had been appointed,” but, willing as always to serve, he “hoped for success.”

In his correspondence with the National Spiritual Assembly and with committee members he left a stronger objection unstated, feeling perhaps that it would be misunderstood or that total candor would be unproductive. Years later, when he was no longer a member of the committee, he told another black Bahá’í of his reluctance to accept a position for which he felt a white would have been better suited. “As ’Abdu’l Baha himself instructed for the first racial amity conference, he wisely, I think, put that matter in the hands of Mrs. Parsons, a white Bahá’í of wealth and social prominence.” Her motives could not be questioned by other whites, or at least she could not be seen as acting for personal gain, he felt. But his own intentions might be suspect. “To have a colored man always clamoring for colored people’s rights,” he confided, “savors somewhat of politics and agitation, rather than of a Cause whose dynamics is Spirituality. It is far better for a white person to do this in the Cause and for the colored to lend their consultation and support. We must all do what we can to aid such work. . . .”

Nonetheless, Mr. Gregory attended the organizational meeting of the committee late in February. Shortly thereafter the National Spiritual Assembly moved to clarify its intentions in appointing Louis Gregory as executive secretary of the committee. Horace Holley wrote that he and the chairman of the Assembly, Allen McDaniel, had decided that it would be better for Mr. Gregory to stay in Washington and to place “the work of this new committee on a firm foundation” than to travel as he had planned. Accordingly, he set aside his reservations, and the work of the committee got under way. For the next eight years—with the exception of one, during which race amity was placed under the National Teaching Committee— Louis Gregory was to serve either as secretary or chairman of the committee.

As its first task the committee composed a letter to the National Spiritual Assembly and all Local Spiritual Assemblies in the United States and Canada. This statement, which clearly reflects Louis Gregory’s contributions as secretary, stressed ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s consistent “promotion of inter-racial unity and accord,” His concern for “the welfare and happiness of the colored people,” and His conviction that “the nation itself would rise or fall as determined by the way it would settle this matter. “The National Spiritual Assembly, mindful of its great responsibility, has now taken action,” the letter continued, by appointing an amity committee “to stimulate action among the friends, and to execute the plans revealed and directed by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, now and evermore supported by Shoghi Effendi.” Having established its credentials, the committee went on to remind the Bahá’ís of the importance of amity conventions and to suggest additional activities, such as cooperation with interracial committees already in existence in some cities. A forthcoming compilation of the Bahá’í teachings on race relations was announced, with the recommendation that it be read and circulated.

At its February meeting the committee also set the dates for an amity convention to [Page 29] be held in Washington, D.C. Scheduled for 8-10 April with sessions at the Mt. Pleasant Congregational Church and at the Playhouse, the convention attracted several prominent non-Bahá’í speakers: Dr. Pezavia O’Connell, dean of Morgan College in Baltimore; Dr. Samuel C. Mitchell, a history professor at Richmond University, who had met ‘Abdu’l-Bahá at the Lake Mohonk Peace Conference in 1912; and Rabbi Abram Simon, chairman of the Synagogue Council of America, who had also met ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. Albert Vail, Mountfort Mills, Horace Holley, and Allen McDaniel represented the Bahá’í Faith. The effort was so successful that the Washington, D.C., Bahá’í community approved having another convention that same year.

Held on 10-11 November 1927, again at the Mt. Pleasant Congregational Church, the second convention was called to order by Coralie F. Cook. Albert Vail and Dr. Mordecai W. Johnson of Howard University spoke at the first session. The second session was chaired by Mr. Vail, and the speakers were Professor Leslie Pinckney Hill of Cheyney Institute and Siegfried Schopflocher, a Bahá’í from Montreal. Both conventions received considerable attention in Washington. They helped to put the Bahá’ís “on public record,” as Louis Gregory phrased it, “as standing for such enlightened principles in action.”

The amity committee’s continued existence was ultimately assured less by its own initial achievements, however, than by Shoghi Effendi’s direct intervention. As Guardian of the Bahá’í Cause, he corresponded regularly with the National Spiritual Assembly, and he had received a copy of the amity committee’s letter of 23 February. At about the same time he had met Sadie Oglesby of Boston, the first black woman from America to make a pilgrimage to the Bahá’í holy places in Palestine, and had discussed the racial situation in America with her. His response to the enterprising new committee was immediate. On 12 April Shoghi Effendi sent the National Assembly a major message on the subject of interracial amity. This letter, in Louis Gregory’s words, mentioned “with approval the activities of the newly appointed National Racial Amity Committee.” In fact, Shoghi Effendi’s “approval” was far more enthusiastic than Mr. Gregory indicated.

I have . . . received and read with the keenest interest and appreciation a copy of that splendid document formulated by the National Committee on inter-racial amity. . . . This moving appeal, so admirable in its conception, so sound and sober in its language, has struck a responsive chord in my heart. Sent forth at a highly opportune moment in the evolution of our sacred Faith, it has served as a potent reminder of these challenging issues which still confront in a peculiar manner the American believers.

Then, as Louis Gregory described it, the Guardian went on to provide “a powerful portrayal of the needs of the work.” Shoghi Effendi stated clearly that the success of the Bahá’í Faith in America was closely linked to the actions of the Bahá’ís with regard to race:

the future growth and prestige of the Cause are bound to be influenced to a very considerable degree by the manner in which the adherents of the Bahá’í Faith carry out, first among themselves and in their relations with their fellow-men, those high standards of inter-racial amity so widely proclaimed and so fearlessly exemplified to the American people by our Master ‘Abdu’l-Bahá.

[Page 30] Shoghi Effendi appealed directly to the individual as a committed Bahá’í and a “conscientious upholder of the universal principles of Bahá’u’lláh.” He placed upon such active workers, the backbone of the American Bahá’í community, the full responsibility for success—not only in meeting the challenge of abolishing racial prejudice but in firmly establishing the Faith itself. “I cannot believe,” he wrote, “that those whose hearts have been touched by the regenerating influence of God’s creative Faith in His day will find it difficult to cleanse their souls from every lingering trace of racial animosity so subversive of the Faith they profess.” In Shoghi Effendi’s view, the task of such devoted Bahá’ís was “twofold”: it begins with “conscious effort” toward personal transformation by the individual Bahá’í, then extends to attempts to influence society. The Guardian made it clear that he was not deceived by superficial adherence to the principle of human oneness, as revealed in “the mere exchange of cold and empty formalities often connected with the organizing Of banquets, receptions, consultative assemblies, and lecture-halls.” Rather, Bahá’ís of both races must exercise their freedom from prejudice in “close and intimate social intercourse” beyond the confines of the official activities of the community:

In their homes, in their hours of relaxation and leisure, in the daily contact of business transactions, in the association of their children, . . . in short under all possible circumstances, however insignificant they appear, the community of the followers of Bahá’u’lláh should satisfy themselves that in the eyes of the world at large and in the sight of their vigilant Master they are the living witnesses of those truths which He fondly cherished and tirelessly championed to the very end of His days.

Shoghi Effendi appealed especially to the National Spiritual Assembly “to reaffirm by word and deed the spirit and character” of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s “insistent admonitions” with regard to race. He stressed the importance of the Bahá’í summer study camp at Green Acre in Maine as a means “to further this noble end” of racial unity. Then, lest anyone misunderstand him, he summarized his expectations of the American Bahá’ís as individuals and as members of elected assemblies:

Not by merely imitating the excesses and laxity of the extravagant age they live in; not by the idle neglect of the sacred responsibilities it is their privilege to shoulder; not by the silent compromise of the principles dearly cherished by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá; not by their fear of unpopularity or their dread of censure can they hope to rouse society from its spiritual lethargy, and serve as a model to a civilization the foundations of which the corrosion of prejudice has well-nigh undermined. By the sublimity of their principles, the warmth of their love, the spotless purity of their character, and the depth of their devoutness and piety, let them demonstrate to their fellow-countrymen the ennobling reality of a power that shall weld a disrupted world.

Never since the days of the Master had the Bahá’í principles of interracial equality been stated in such terms. The new race amity committee received immeasurable support both for its efforts and for its very existence. Those people who had questioned the need for such a committee or had failed to support its activities could scarcely ignore Shoghi Effendi’s condemnation of “the mere exchange of cold and empty formalities” among the Bahá’ís and his abhorrence of “the silent compromise of the principles dearly cherished by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá.” Those who had upheld racial amity on principle without truly accepting the full range of social and personal transformations it required were compelled to reexamine their views. For the [Page 31] present there could be no doubt concerning Bahá’í racial policy: active promotion of racial unity was both consistent with the Bahá’í principles and concordant with the expressed wishes of the Guardian.

Indeed, Shoghi Effendi’s 1927 message on race is perhaps his most urgent and forceful assessment of any specific problem confronting the American Bahá’ís up to that time. He drew upon their major strength, unbounded personal devotion to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, to combat their gravest weakness, failure to come to terms with racial prejudice. He cited ‘Abdu’l-Bahá not only as an example of ideal conduct but as a living presence, fully aware of the strengths and shortcomings of His followers, from the members of the National Spiritual Assembly, “the Trustees of God’s sacred Faith,” to the humblest individual believer. The small band of Bahá’ís dedicated to racial unity were, in Louis Gregory’s words as secretary of the amity committee, “fired with new zeal by the stirring letters of Shoghi Effendi and the news of his deep and abiding interest in this work.”

No one was more encouraged than Louis Gregory himself. His contention that the principle of racial unity was central to the Bahá’í teachings—that it must always be “to the fore whether one wants it or not”—had been fully vindicated. The year 1927 marked the beginning of a new stage of progress toward racial unity by the Bahá’í community. For Louis Gregory it was also the beginning of intense involvement in amity activities and of close interaction with the Guardian of the Bahá’í Cause in shaping a new racial consciousness in America. The reciprocity of their labors was recognized by Shoghi Effendi from the Start. In 1928, shortly after Mr. Gregory had added the administrative responsibilities of the new race committee to his commitments as a National Spiritual Assembly member and as a lecturer, a writer, and an itinerant Bahá’í teacher, he received a letter of appreciation from Shoghi Effendi. At the end, in a postscript written in his own hand, the Guardian conveyed not only his personal regard for a devoted follower but a sense of Louis Gregory’s historic role in the development of a new world order:

My very dear & precious co-worker:

Your letter has infused strength & joy in my heart. . . . I have nothing but admiration & gratitude for the heroic constancy, mature wisdom, tireless energy, and shining love with which you are conducting your ever-expanding work of service to the Cause of Bahá’u’lláh. You hardly realize what a help you are to me in my arduous work. Your grateful brother,

Shoghi

[Page 32]

[Page 33]

Children and Television Violence

BY A. M. GHADIRIAN

Then shall we simply allow our children to listen to any story anyone happens to make up, and so receive into their minds ideas often the very opposite of those we shall think they ought to have when they are grown up?

—Plato

THE FORMATION of human personality is to a great extent influenced by learning experiences that an individual, during his formative age, acquires from his environment, particularly from those who are important exemplary figures. Parents are the first behavioral models for their children. As children grow, they discover models other than their parents, models with whom they come into contact directly or by whom they are influenced indirectly through television, which is intimately integrated into the everyday life of modern man. Today television is an influential instrument that brings into countless homes a number of models fascinating both to adults and children. Many of these figures portray through their aggressive behavior a violent world that is especially detrimental to the mind and character of young observers.

Some Statistical Considerations

ACCORDING TO Nathan Talbot, a professor of pediatrics at the Harvard Medical School, about 96 percent of the total population of the United States has television sets, and these are “more commonplace than telephones, bathtubs, toasters, vacuum cleaners and even the daily newspaper,” even among low-income families. He further remarks that many parents use television as a “mechanical entertainer” and “an alternate to a human babysitter.” Among those who spend considerable time watching television and are highly vulnerable, particularly to the adverse effects of violence shown on television, are preschool children who, according to one report, spend approximately fifty-four hours a week in the fall and forty-six hours a week in the spring watching television.

In his brilliant review of 146 articles Michael B. Rothenberg, a pediatric psychiatrist, indicates that by the time an average American child graduates from high school, he will have viewed some fifteen thousand hours of television but will have received only eleven thousand hours of formal classroom instruction. He will have observed “some 18,000 murders, and countless highly [Page 34] detailed incidents of robbery, arson, bombing, forgery, smuggling, beating and torture.” Rothenberg also notes that by the age of eighteen these children will have witnessed some thirty-five thousand television commercials.

George Gerbner, an educator, made a detailed content analysis of 281 dramatic television shows that appeared on prime time in more than 182 hours over a three-year period. He found that about 8 out of every 10 television programs contained violence and that the occurrence of violent incidents was at the rate of almost 8 per hour during prime time.

In her survey of the effect of televised violence on children and youth, Anne R. Sommers, a community health specialist, considers programs of violence as “pollution of the mind which has contributed to an epidemic of youthful violence that seriously threatens the health of American youth.” She cites statistics that show an alarming increase in murder and robbery among young children.

At the same time what one observes in the mass media is a reflection of violence in society at large. In 1974 an editorial in the San Francisco Chronicle indicated that there were an estimated 200,000,000 guns in the United States, averaging one gun for almost every child and adult in the country. Furthermore, it reported that “every four minutes someone is killed or wounded by gunfire. Every three minutes someone is robbed at gunpoint.”

A survey of those arrested for street crime excluding murder in the United States in 1975 showed that 75 percent were under twenty-five years of age and 45 percent were under eighteen. This clearly indicates that substantial numbers of violent crimes are committed by the younger generation. Similarly, violent outbursts and physical aggression among children have been rising in recent years. Mass media, particularly television, have become a popular means for magnifying and reflecting the drama of such violence to the public.

Learning by Example

PSYCHOLOGIST Albert Bandura’s conceptual model of social-learning theory has drawn considerable attention in recent years. It considers role models to have the function of stimuli that influence the observer to produce a similar response. He studied the behavioral responses of nursery-school children who were divided into five groups so that their reactions to different situations could be tested. One group observed adult models behaving aggressively; a second group viewed a film of the same models performing the same aggressive [Page 35] acts. A third group of children observed aggression enacted by a model costumed as a cartoon cat shown on television. The three situations were “to test the notion that the more remote the models are from reality, the weaker is the tendency for children to imitate their behavior.” In addition, the study included two control groups. One group consisted of children who had no prior exposure to aggressive models and thus were free from the modeling influences of the study so that a baseline of their own aggressive responses could be determined. The final group saw filmed models not displaying any aggressive behavior or using aggressive toys (mallet and peg board, dart guns, and a tether ball with a face painted on it) provided for them but rather remaining calm. These two situations were to determine whether the mere availability of aggressive toys to the nonaggressive models would stimulate the children to use such materials. After the observation was completed, the children were individually brought to a different room containing a variety of toys where their actions were recorded.

Bandura concluded from the study that exposure to aggressive models had two important effects on the children:

1. The live models provided the children with examples of new ways to be aggressive—for example, to assault or to make hostile remarks. Equally important was the impact of the film of similar situations on the behavior of the children. The model dressed as a cartoon cat was, however, less effective than the real-life models.

2. The aggressive models reduced children’s inhibitions against displaying aggressive behavior. Consequently, these models facilitated the manifestation of the previously learned violent behavior and thus added to the children’s violence. Both male and female children exposed to aggressive models were affected more than those in the nonaggressive circumstances of the control groups.

Distortion of Reality

CHILDREN learn a great deal by following the examples of their parents, teachers, influential figures, and peers. Observation and imitation are important facets of childhood learning, which is enhanced by incentives such as encouragement and parental and social approval. In individuals who are highly self-centered and impulsive, removal of an expected reward may evoke violent behavior, particularly if such individuals have learned similar responses through observation. Television provides children with a continuous flow of information that they can learn and imitate. However, what they observe is greatly distorted by the communications industry and is, therefore, not compatible with the reality of everyday life:

a) Television programs present drama in such a way that the viewer does not see the tragic consequences of violent outbursts. For example, in the case of a man’s death the viewer does not witness his wife’s bereavement, the emotional anguish of his children, and the severe deprivation experienced by other members of his family. Instead, the drama may end [Page 36] with a happy commercial or an unrelated event that will erase the memory of the tragic episode.

b) The observer does not experience, nor does he emotionally relate to, the pain and agony of insult or injury a victim suffers in a violent struggle. Thus a child may conceive physical attack, injury, and death as harmless or even entertaining activities in which everyone can engage. By so thinking during his continuous viewing of television programs, the child will probably weaken and distort his ability to sense and perceive reality.

The Impact on Children

IN CHILDHOOD the human mind is highly receptive and vulnerable to impressions. Thus violence, whether real or fictitious, can have an undesirable effect on children. Violence viewed on television has the following potentially adverse effects on children:

1. It is a provocative experience to children with accumulated frustration and aggressive drives (similar to the stimulus-response principle). Rothenberg reported that in an experimental setting, if a person is “verbally attacked and then exposed to film violence, he later is more aggressive than one who wasn’t attacked before being exposed to film violence.” His findings, as well as those of a number of other investigators, refute the original hypothesis of “aggression catharsis” proposed earlier by psychologist Seymour Feshbach, who assumed that vicarious participation in observed violence will have a cathartic effect and, therefore, will reduce the likelihood of subsequent aggressive behavior. Alberta E. Siegel, a psychologist, believes that viewing violence on film or television will not cause an aggressive emotional catharsis but will rather increase in the viewer a subsequent aggressiveness. Indeed, violence viewed on film or live may arouse rather than discharge aggressive impulses.

The origin of the catharsis issue of human emotions can be found in ancient history. Bandura notes “Aristotle contended that emotional displays purged emotions whereas Plato maintained that they aroused them. As in most of their disputes over the nature of man, Plato turned out to be the better psychologist.” (It is to be noted, however, that Aristotle’s notion of catharsis was mainly related to the display of grief and similar emotions.)

2. Viewing violence stimulates the learning and imitation of violent behavior. This is particularly the case when children are bored in an environment offering no creative alternatives. Moreover, human behavior, as Bandura has pointed out, is to a large extent socially transmitted either deliberately or inadvertently through an educational influence of behavioral models, such as parents, teachers, and other influential figures.

[Page 37] 3. In competitive societies where greater emphasis is placed on the status quo and egocentric achievements, the portrayal of violence on television can exert a strong impact on the child. Studies of children engaged in competitive play have shown that those who are losers are most prone to adopt aggressive behavior learned from behavioral models.

4. There are some indications that exposure to violent television programs induces a physiological arousal and a state of anxiety in children. Other research suggests that repetitious or long-term exposure to television violence diminishes emotional responsiveness or sensitivity to portrayals of violence and may lead the viewer to become desensitized to aggression. This desensitization, however, does not erase “a violent portrayal’s capacity to enhance aggressiveness.”

Children who spend much of their time watching aggressive behavior on television will not remain free from its noxious influence. With the present state of science, however, it is difficult to measure the extent of impact that the prolonged and stereotyped programs of violence can exert on the children’s capacity for imagination, initiative, and other mental activities in realistic situations. The effect of these programs on the psychomotor activity at the time of viewing is, however, evident to many parents who find that their children’s physical vitality virtually ceases when they are stillbound for hours in front of the television set. Many of these children, unless they are educated with a high standard of ethics disapproving violence, may identify with the aggressors of the violent scenes observed on television and will consequently drift into aggressive behavior.

In my opinion, hyperactive children who have low tolerance to frustration and are highly unstable and impulsive are especially vulnerable to the untoward effects of televised violence.

The Bahá’í View of Human Nature

THE HALLMARK of the Bahá’í teachings is a love and unity that are universal in scope and deeply rooted in the education of Bahá’í children. Love is considered to be an essential ingredient of personal growth and fulfillment, while aggression and violence are considered to impede human development. To understand the disintegrative influence of violence on human nature, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s definition of human nature is particularly important. He describes man as being endowed with two natures: the spiritual or higher nature, and the material or lower nature. Material nature is that part of human reality that man shares with animals. From this nature stems man’s cruelty and injustice. The spiritual or higher nature enables man to manifest noble attributes such as love, compassion, truth, and justice. The signs of both natures can be found in human beings.

[Page 38] ‘Abdu’l-Bahá also places special emphasis on the progress of the soul during the human journey in this world. Furthermore, “If . . . the spiritual nature of the soul,” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá states, “has been so strengthened that it holds the material side in subjection, then does the man approach the divine. . . .” On the contrary, if “the soul’s material qualities alone” are “exercised, they become terribly powerful—and the unhappy, misguided man becomes more savage, more unjust, more vile, more cruel, more malevolent than the lower animals themselves.”

One of the means of exercising and reinforcing material qualities is the reinforcement of destructive concepts through televised violence. A child’s growth and the development of his higher nature depend to a great extent on the educational opportunities provided by his parents and society. Education is concerned with the relationship between the individual and the world around him, in which television plays an important role. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s perception of a child is that, like a young plant, “it will grow in whatever way you train it. If you rear it to be truthful, and kind, and righteous, it will grow straight, it will be fresh and tender, and will flourish. But if not, then from faulty training it will grow bent, and stand awry. . . .” Watching televised violence can be considered one facet of such faulty training that may cause the tender plant, the child, to experience and sustain psychological deformation in its development.

Conclusion

TO MANY habitual television viewers violent films serve a dual purpose of which they may or may not be aware:

A. They may serve as a means of providing emotional arousal, often of an aggressive nature, that may not come into action unless circumstances facilitate or demand its discharge.

B. They may serve, for children in particular, as a communication and learning experience that idealizes aggression as an acceptable mode of behavioral expression.

Often, when a sense of meaninglessness pervades one’s perception of his surroundings, and a feeling of emptiness arouses anxiety within him, a search for various forms of stimulation and of comfort begins. Drugs and alcohol are but two examples of the illusory remedies such individuals may seek to alleviate their inner disturbances. The choice of violent films, cartoons, and books is another indication of such a search. For many individuals the spectacular explosion of a bridge or a sudden burst of machine-gun fire is a thrilling experience. An aggressive disposition and the misperception of reality are two phenomena very likely to occur among the younger viewers of such scenes.

[Page 39] Some suggestions for eliminating Violence from television are as follows:

1. Bahá’u’lláh proposes a new social system based on the unity of mankind, thus eliminating every kind of prejudice, war, and conflict. Hence the enrichment of television programs with noble principles of love and justice would help eradicate crimes and aggression, which are the symptoms of a social ailment caused by prejudices and injustice.

2. The spiritual reality of man and his higher nature should receive greater emphasis in children’s education so that children discover the purpose of their creation and their own need for spiritual stimulation and enrichment essential for the progress of their souls. At present, television does not fulfill the needs of the higher nature of human reality; rather it gratifies the needs of the lower, material nature.

3. Television programs must be integrated into an elaborate educational system where they will foster a spirit of cooperation and fellowship rather than glamorize wars and violence.

4. Depiction of violence in sports, educational films, and news should be discouraged. When a violent event is shown, its tragic consequences should also be illustrated or objectively discussed. Parents should recognize the educational influence of televised violence and eliminate programs that are potentially harmful to the emotional health of their children. It would be unrealistic, however, to assume that television is solely responsible for children’s behavior. All educational elements in our children’s personal, family, and social lives, particularly in our highly competitive technological world, contribute to their moral attitudes and expressions.

[Page 40]

Entities of a New Creation

BY JULIE OEMING BADIEE

THE STUDY of the rise and fall of civilizations and the various theories concerning their development and decline have exerted a constant fascination on the historian. Art historians, too, struggle with these questions, for the study of the visual arts has shown that periods of brilliant creation are often followed by times of inert traditionalism. Conscientious art historians have spent their lives tracing the cycles of history as they are reflected in the visual arts, and it is primarily through these studies that later generations of students have been able to recognize the familiar patterns of generation, fulfillment, and decay. To many art historians, however, the genesis of these carefully charted cycles has always remained elusive. Why do they begin, and why do they end? Even after generations of scholarship such questions persist.

What forces, for example, brought about the explosion of artistic creativity we call the Renaissance? Why did the time-worn formulas of Classical art cease to be effective in the days of the later Roman Empire? What lies behind the metamorphosis of art in our own time?

To the art historian familiar with the Bahá’í writings the mysteries of artistic evolution and change are clearer. The historical cycles of birth, fulfillment and decay, as expounded in the writings of Bahá’u’lláh and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, are essential to the Bahá’í concept of history. They are the means by which an ever-advancing civilization evolves.

Indeed, the concept of recurring cycles is basic to all movement in the universe. Day alternates with night, the earth circles the sun, and the round of the four seasons brings a new birth followed by growth, maturity, and, finally, decay. The same rhythm of nature is reflected in the history of mankind.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá describes these historical cycles in terms of the seasons of the year. At the beginning of the cycle one finds a springtime that pervades all created things. Thoughts and ideas take on a new life, and the realm of the intellect is set into motion. This is the springtime of the inner world, for minds develop, hopes brighten, aspirations become spiritual, and the image and likeness of God become visible in man.

The summer of the cycle brings fullness and spiritual fruit. Man becomes educated, and there is universal progress in the world of humanity. The energy of life reaches a degree of perfection. As is the rule of nature, summer is followed by autumn. So it is also in the cycles of human history. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá explains that “the radiance” of the hearts of mankind “is dimmed,” “virtues are replaced by vices, and holiness and purity disappear.”

Winter in the historical cycle brings “indifference, disobedience, inconsiderateness, indolence, baseness, animal instincts, and the coldness and insensibility of stones.” The world remains in a state of physical and spiritual death until the renewing breezes of [Page 41] the spiritual springtime flow again.

However, it is not enough simply to note the parallel between the cycles of nature and those of history, for one inevitably returns to the question of beginnings. What sets these cycles in motion? Why do they occur at all? Again, the Bahá’í writings clarify these perplexing questions, for they explain that each of these cycles is brought into being by the coming of a Manifestation of God. Moreover, the power of such an advent is so momentous that nothing in creation remains untouched. Bahá’u’lláh says that at His advent “the whole creation was revolutionized, and all that are in the heavens and all that are on the earth were stirred to the depths.” Only such events as the coming of a Manifestation of God, be it a Moses, a Christ, a Muḥammad, or a Buddha, can affect human history so profoundly. Only the effect of Their teachings can inaugurate a whole new cycle of civilization.

Given the intensity of the power realized by the advent of a Manifestation, is it possible to see a distinct change in the creative output of the artists, writers, and scholars who lived in the times following such a great event? Certainly it is true that often artists are profoundly affected by change and reflect its impact in their work long before the true nature of the world-shaking events is fully understood or even known by others.

It is my intention in this article to trace the evolution of the arts in two major periods when a Manifestation of God appeared: the Christian cycle commencing in the first century A.D. and the Bahá’í cycle beginning in the mid-nineteenth century A.D. By doing so it will be possible to see that the coming of a Manifestation of God has an effect on the visual arts of these periods and that there are interesting parallels between the arts produced in the time following the coming of Christ and those produced after the advent of the Báb.

Art Before and After the Birth of Christ

WHEN Jesus Christ was born in a remote outpost of the Roman Empire, most artists were employed in producing art for rich patrons or for the great world-state. Although Roman art had some of its own unique qualities, it was essentially based on the achievements of the Greek Style.

A typical example of this Greco-Roman style can be seen in the famous Ara Pacis, or Altar of Peace (figure 1), built by the command of the Emperor Augustus in 9 B.C. to [Page 42] commemorate the pacification of Spain and Gaul in 13 B.C. A major feature of the altar is the procession of Roman citizens who have come to dedicate the altar. The immediacy of the event is typically Roman, but both the composition and the idea of the procession are based on the famous Panathenaic procession, fragments of which still grace the frieze of the Parthenon in Athens. The figures on the Ara Pacis are well sculpted in the Greco-Roman style with an understanding of the forms of human anatomy and their function in an illusionary three-dimensional space. Thus some figures projected outward while others, such as the woman with her fingers to her lips, appear to be just barely emerging from the background. While not so idealized as the figures on the earlier Panathenaic procession, the figures here still emphasize the physical beauty of each individual. It is, perhaps, a supremely worldly monument illustrating a group of well-disposed persons moving easily through the world of material existence. There is little of the realm of the spirit here. Man’s natural religious impulses are directed into patriotism and worship of the Roman state. Such an art seemed extremely well-suited to the ideals of the Roman Empire and appeared destined to endure for centuries.

To the scholar who understands the spiritual cycles of human history, this work, however beautiful, appears to have been created in the beginning of the winter of the spiritual cycle of human existence. In artistic terms, it was carved in the time of the institutionalization of the vibrant originality of Greek art and can only be understood as a last fine example of an outworn creed. Less than a decade later, the birth of a new Manifestation of God, Jesus Christ, set into motion a great new cycle of existence.

Bahá’u’lláh describes the impact of Christ upon human history:

Know thou that when the Son of Man yielded up His breath to God, the whole creation wept with a great weeping. By sacrificing Himself, however, a fresh capacity was infused into all created things. Its evidences, as witnessed in all the peoples of the earth, are now manifest before thee. The deepest wisdom which the sages have uttered, the profoundest learning which any mind has unfolded, the arts which the ablest hands have produced, the influence exerted by the most potent of rulers, are but manifestations of the quickening power released by His transcendent, His all-pervasive, and resplendent Spirit.

In the face of the tremendous power unleashed by the advent of a Manifestation of God, the mores, political structures, and artistic expressions of the dying Classical world simply ceased to have meaning. If one traces the history of Roman art from the building of the Ara Pacis to the end of the Empire, one can see a progressive dissolution of the physical characteristics of the Greco-Roman style. It is as if man’s concept of himself underwent a radical transformation. If one compares the head of Augustus (figure 2), carved about the same time as the Ara Pacis, with the head of a fifth-century Roman (figure 3), one can see the magnitude of the change. The face of Augustus is bland and calm; and the artist, while faithfully presenting his idealized features, reveals little of his psyche.

By the fifth century A.D. the Roman Style had changed dramatically. In almost all portraits from the third century onward there is a growing emphasis upon the importance of the eyes of an individual. As one can see in this fifth-century portrait (figure 3), the eyes have become unnaturally large and seem to stare directly at the viewer. It is as if the inner life of the subject has become the major concern of the artist. The whole face of this fifth-century Roman appears to be caught up in a spiritual enthusiasm, has an otherworldly quality about it, and appears [Page 43] to be infused with the power of the Holy Spirit. Correspondingly, the physical presence of the figure has declined in importance and seems now simply to be a vessel for the flickering fire of the spirit.

By the sixth century A.D. the spiritualization of subject matter became the hallmark of the imperial style. A comparison of a wall mosaic commissioned by the Emperor Justinian in the sixth century (figure 4) with the processional relief on the Ara Pacis shows the complete metamorphosis that had taken place.

It appears that this work, by recalling both the Ara Pacis and the earlier Panathenaic procession, shows the artist’s attempt to unite the old tradition with the new ways of thought. But the advent of Jesus Christ, a Manifestation of God, had brought about changes so profound that the Justinianic work exhibits a virtually new style of art.

The figures, which represent the Empress Theodora and her retinue, seem to float like disembodied specters rather than to move through three-dimensional space. Their physical presence is almost entirely lost, and they inhabit what appears to be a two-dimensional world. The artist is so unconcerned with the [Page 44] technicalities of this physical existence that the weightless figures actually appear to tread on each other’s toes. The faces are impassive and stare at the viewer with huge, unnatural eyes. They hint at the mysteries of existence in another world. The most striking change from the Ara Pacis is the medium chosen by the artist. Whereas the major artistic mode of expression in the Classical world was through sculpture in marble, the new Christian artist, searching for a more satisfactory medium for expressing the world of the spirit, turned to mosaic. I have noted the progressive dissolution of physical form in marble portraits near the end of the Empire; by the end of the fifth century full-scale marble sculpture almost ceased to exist.

In mosaic thousands of tiny glass cubes are combined to create a shimmering work of art. The ethereal effect is overwhelming, and figures thus delineated appear to float as disembodied specters, almost as denizens of another realm. It is as if the spiritual power unleashed at the coming of the Manifestation of God exploded the marble statues of the old order and replaced them with the thousand shining pieces of mosaic tesserae that appear to deny the materiality of the object they represent.

One is reminded of the words of Bahá’u’lláh concerning the world-shaking advent of the coming of a Manifestation of God: “Through that Word the realities of all created things were shaken, were divided, separated, scattered, combined and reunited, disclosing, in both the contingent world and the heavenly kingdom, entities of a new creation. . . .”

In a subconscious reaction to this restructuring of creation, the artist has disassembled the elements of the older art traditions and recombined them in a new way.

But it was not enough. So total was the effect of the coming of Christ that no compromise with the old way could be tolerated. So complete was the disappearance of the Classical world for a time that its major artistic expression, the human body, ceased to be a viable art form. A vigorous and primitive abstract art form reigned.

The centers of European civilization moved westward, and new and powerful works in a totally different style were created. In one of the most famous of these, the Irish Lindisfarne Gospels, the human form appears only as a series of patterns. Indeed, the most artistically exciting pages in this book are abstract compositions, created by the devout monks in this outpost of civilization (figure 5). The eye of the viewer is overwhelmed by the maze of design and the wealth of color, shape, and form. The brilliance of the design lies in its very complexity, as if it somehow expressed the totality of the world and the teeming quality of the intertwined realities of all creation.

Under the watchful eyes of these early Irish monks a new style of Western European art was born. In later ages, the human figure [Page 45] would be completely restructured and reintroduced. The cycle of development of art continued and reached its culmination in the Renaissance, the summer of Christian civilization. In that period, the great geniuses of Western art created works of unsurpassed beauty, works that united the physical and the spiritual realms of human existence.

However, this was not the end of artistic development, just as summer is only the midpoint in the cycle of nature. The great ages of Renaissance and Baroque art passed to the autumn of later centuries, and the styles of the past became institutionalized in the academies of France and England. Artists turned increasingly to other eras for their inspiration, and most creative impulses were bound by the rigorous rules of the academies. By the end of the eighteenth century almost all European institutions were completely moribund, and revolution was fomented in many countries.

Art Before and After the Bahá’í Era

AS HAD BEEN FORETOLD, in the mid-nineteenth century the world of mankind was once again quickened and invigorated by the coming of a Manifestation of God. In this most recent example of the outpouring of God’s grace the twin Manifestations, the Báb and Bahá’u’lláh, have initiated a series of changes so complete and profound that no human living today can begin to understand their import.

However, as has happened in the past, artists were among the first to sense the magnitude of the change. Anyone who has studied the art of the nineteenth century is aware that a major metamorphosis took place, a metamorphosis the impact of which is paralleled by the change in art occurring in the centuries after the coming of Christ. It is of particular interest that the evolution of art in these two momentous periods has some fascinating similarities. Just as the Ara Pacis served a political purpose, art at the beginning of the nineteenth century often was important politically. Artists such as Jacques-Louis David were intimately associated with those in power, and their works were understood to be political statements. David’s Oath of the Horatii (figure 6) served to fire the emotions of the French people against the excesses and frivolities of their monarchs by holding up as an example the strict morals and patriotic virtues of the heroes of the early Roman Republic. As in the case of the Ara Pacis, the artistic technique is highly proficient and based on idealized models of earlier ages. Again, the figures possess a certain physical beauty and move easily through the three-dimensional space created by the artist. They are posed, almost as if on a stage, and although they portray emotions, they show little of the spiritual.

Again, events on the European continent, like those in the Roman Empire, were profoundly affected by occurrences in the East. Unbeknown to most Europeans the Declaration of the Báb on 23 May 1844 unleashed a spiritual power of such magnitude that every atom and element of creation proclaimed its majesty. This spiritual renewal again profoundly [Page 46] affected those sensitive souls who were, for the most part, wholly unaware of its source.

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Figure 7. van Gogh: “The Starry Night.” Collection, The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Lillie P. Bliss Bequest.

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If one compares the art of Vincent van Gogh with that of David (figures 6 and 7), he shall see that the spiritual power of the time is implicit in each line of van Gogh’s work. It is almost as if the heat given off by the intensity of the Bahá’í message had melted, twisted, and frayed the idealized world of David. In van Gogh’s Starry Night (figure 7) the whole world dances, leaps, and sings to the power of God. The cypress tree flickers up like a flame to unite heaven and earth. The same power of the Holy Spirit that elongated, twisted, and gave life to the fifth-century Roman head (figure 3) seems to have animated the work of Vincent van Gogh. The artist, fascinated with the East, swirls his clouds to create the symbols of Yin and Yang, the ancient Chinese pictogram for the unity of all creation.

Whether he was aware of its source, no important artist of the late nineteenth century [Page 47] was untouched by the spiritual power of the coming of the New Age. Bahá’u’lláh Himself describes the power of the new Revelation: “The world’s equilibrium hath been upset through the vibrating influence of this most great, this new World Order. Mankind’s ordered life hath been revolutionized through the agency of this unique, this wondrous System—the like of which mortal eyes have never witnessed.”

In a fascinating parallel to early Christian art, the painting of the late nineteenth century saw the breaking up of form and the reduction of a three-dimensional illusionistic view of reality to a two-dimensional picture-plane. The elaborate illusionism of the Classical tradition was again rejected in a search for a more spiritual form of expression. As in the case of the early Christian centuries, art forms were visually “exploded” and restructured. A parallel to the early Christian mosaic can be seen in the work of Georges Seurat (figure 8). The thousands of tiny dots he used to create his composition are reminiscent of the mosaics created by the early Christian artists who sought to dematerialize traditional forms. One is again reminded of the words of Bahá’u’lláh: “Through that Word the realities of all created things were shaken, were divided, separated, scattered, combined and reunited, disclosing, in both the contingent world and the heavenly kingdom, entities of a new creation. . . .”

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Figure 9. Tobey: “New Genesis.” Collection, Joyce Dahl.

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The history of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century witnesses this separation and destruction, this combining and reuniting, this total redefinition of reality in all the realms of endeavor of mankind. In politics it was an age of revolution, producing tremendous and far-reaching change. In science the theories of Darwin, Marx, [Page 48] Freud, and Einstein exploded and restructured mankind’s concept of reality. And artists, sensitive to the change, created a metamorphosis in art, the effects of which we have only begun to feel today.

In another parallel to the evolution of art after the coming of Christ, artists of the twentieth century have abstracted the human body and, in many cases, ceased to use it as a subject at all. In fact, one of the main themes of twentieth-century art can be described as the destruction and rejection of the human form. As was the case in much early medieval art, the trend in the early twentieth century was toward total abstraction and nonfigural design. Modern artists, among them the renowned Bahá’í, Mark Tobey, have created abstract works of astonishing beauty. As do the vibrant pages of the eighth-century Lindisfarne Gospels (figure 5), Tobey’s works speak of spiritual realities impossible to express through conventional means (figure 9). In his work aptly titled Burst of Spring Tobey’s forms seem to quiver and vibrate with energy, hinting at a world of intense spiritual beauty. The very abstractions of his works show us glimpses of another realm of exiStence far from that which we inhabit and also give us open doors to the multiple possibilities of the many worlds of God.

As did those devout Irish artists of long ago, visionaries like Mark Tobey stand at the very beginnings of a new civilization, the shape of which they can but dimly perceive. The so-called “primitivism” inherent in the art of the twentieth century is not the final decadent lapse into darkness but rather visual evidence of the great separation, scattering, and recombining of elements brought into existence by the power of the birth of the Bahá’í era. Following the laws of artistic style and those of the cycle of civilizations it is possible to predict that the artists of the coming Golden Age of Bahá’í civilization will create new works, works that will unite the splendor of the physical world with luminous transcendence of the spiritual. Bahá’u’lláh hints at the power and the beauty of the works of this future civilization:

Through the mere revelation of the word “Fashioner,” issuing forth from His lips and proclaiming His attribute to mankind, such power is released as can generate, through successive ages, all the manifold arts which the hands of man can produce. This, verily, is a certain truth. No sooner is this resplendent word uttered, than its animating energies, stirring within all created things, give birth to the means and instruments whereby such arts can be produced and perfected. All the wondrous achievements ye now witness are the direct consequences of the Revelation of this Name. In the days to come, ye will, verily, behold things of which ye have never heard before. Thus hath it been decreed in the Tablets of God, and none comprehend it except them whose sight is sharp.

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Principles and Applications

A REVIEW OF M. SCOTT PECK’S The Road Less Traveled: A Psychology of Love, Traditional Values and Spiritual Growth (NEW YORK: SIMON, 1978), 312 PAGES

BY JOLIE V. HAUG

The Road Less Traveled is subtitled “A New Psychology of Love, Traditional Values and Spiritual Growth.” It is a working document, a self-help manual that can easily be translated into daily practice. Anyone familiar with the Bahá’í writings will readily recognize that the principles advocated by M. Scott Peck resemble those of Bahá’u’lláh that are applied by many Bahá’ís in their own lives. Peck, who arrived at these observations during fifteen years of psychiatric practice, outlines their applications. His suggestions are enlightening, uplifting, and conducive to spiritual growth. Throughout the text he defines terms for the layman and gives relevant examples. Hence there is little chance of his being misunderstood or misinterpreted.

The book has four major sections: Discipline, Love, Growth and Religion, and Grace. Because Peck begins with a pragmatic approach and moves toward more abstract aspects of his topics, he will appeal to readers who tend to avoid “religious” discussions.

Section 1—Discipline

Tests are benefits from God, for which we should thank Him. Grief and sorrow do not come to us by chance, they are sent to us by the Divine Mercy for our own perfecting.

—‘Abdu’l-Bahá

Peck discusses discipline in terms of problems and pain and suggests tools for dealing with them. He states that the “tendency to avoid problems and the emotional suffering inherent in them is the primary basis of all human mental illness” and that through dealing with one’s problems one grows and matures, developing ability and confidence. He urges everyone to “inculcate” in himself and his children “the means of achieving mental and spiritual health. . . . teach,” he says, “the necessity for suffering and the value thereof, the need to face problems directly and to experience the pain involved.” These sentiments echo the words of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá: “tests are as the gift from God. . . . but for weak souls they are an unexpected calamity.”

Peck suggests that through discipline man is enabled to meet tests and to benefit from them: “Without discipline we can solve nothing. With only some discipline we can solve only some problems. With total discipline we can solve all problems.” He discusses what he calls the basic tools of discipline and their applications in marriage, in raising children, and in personal development.

Part of life’s discipline is learning to use time effectively, including learning to delay gratification and to order one’s life. Thus one may find time for caring for loved ones, assuring them through actions and attitudes that they are valued and hence valuable. One must also consciously devote time and attention to problems: they do not solve themselves.

Straightforward acceptance of responsibility for one’s decisions and actions is essential. Until one admits responsibility for a problem, he is unlikely to take action to resolve it. [Page 52] Peck explores the relationship between realistic acceptance of responsibility and the healing of neuroses and character disorders; one must either take responsibility for making and acting upon decisions or be a helpless victim of life.

Such acceptance of reality is closely related to the third “tool”—“dedication to reality.” Total honesty, with others and perhaps more essentially with oneself, is a healthy defense against rationalization, prejudice, and other personal blind spots. Peck’s excellent discussion reminds one of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s assertions that “Truthfulness is the foundation of all human virtues” and the source of “progress and success, in all the worlds of God” and that “the worst of qualities and most odious of attributes, which is the foundation of all evil, is lying.” Although Peck condemns “withholding truth” as the most common form of lying, he argues effectively for judiciously withholding information when necessary for the well-being of another.

Peck also points out that dedication to reality necessitates frequent reevaluation of one’s situation and of one’s view of life, as one’s vantage point changes. Failure to do this, he asserts, can lead to “transference,” which he defines as a “set of ways of perceiving and responding to the world which is developed in childhood and which is usually entirely appropriate to the childhood environment (indeed, often life-saving) but which is inappropriately transferred into the adult environment.”

Dedication to reality leads to a fourth tool for discipline—balancing. Balancing requires wisdom, common sense, and good judgment, honestly applied. It provides flexibility and equity in one’s dealings with himself and with others.

A fifth tool is renunciation or bracketing. It corresponds to what Bahá’ís call detachment. Peck says, “The pain of giving up is the pain of death, but death of the old is birth of the new.” He explores the possibility of ever becoming free from emotional pain, an exploration that delves into the mystery of sacrifice.

Section 2—Love

Love is the most great law that ruleth this mighty and heavenly Cycle, the unique power that bindeth together the divers elements of this material world, the supreme magnetic force that directs the movements of the spheres in the celestial realms. Love revealeth with unfailing and limitless power the mysteries latent in the universe. Love is the spirit of life unto the adorned body of mankind, the establisher of true civilization in this mortal world, and the shedder of imperishable glory upon every high-aiming race and nation.

—‘Abdu’l-Bahá

Peck defines love as the “will to extend one’s self for the purpose of nurturing one’s own or another’s spiritual growth.” Love is the motive force for discipline. It requires effort and is impossible without volition. Again, his conclusions parallel the Bahá’í teachings. “The marriage of the Bahá’ís,” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá asserts, “means that both man and woman must become spiritually and physically united, so that they may have eternal unity throughout all the divine worlds and improve the spiritual life of each other.”

Peck spends much time explaining what love is not. He exposes the cultural myths about romantic love that tend to produce unrealistic expectations. Cautioning against the pitfalls of dependence and masochistic self-sacrifice, Peck points out that love is a commitment that remains stable, regardless of the ebb and flow of “loving feelings.” Because [Page 53] a loving relationship requires effort, courage, and time, he claims that one’s capacity to be loving is limited.

A loving relationship also involves risks, which the lover must be willing to take: the risk of losing the loved one, the risk of advancement into the unknown as both individuals grow into unforeseen potentials, and the risk of making a binding commitment —that very commitment that stabilizes the relationship. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá stresses such a commitment in his discussion of Bahá’í matrimony: “their intentions must be everlasting affinity, friendship, unity and life.”

Another risk in a loving relationship is confrontation, where one must, frankly and lovingly, correct the beloved. Peck describes this as being willing to play God, to set oneself up (at least for the moment) as superior in wisdom to the other. A Bahá’í would dissent. Given a belief in Bahá’u’lláh as the authoritative bearer of the Word of God, and given the techniques of consultation He has taught, one can explore any topic of disagreement, using the mutually accepted Word of God as the balance. Resolving conflicts thus becomes a process of finding the correct answer together, using the Word of God, rather than a process of one person’s trying to play God for another. It can be used to resolve conflicts in any relationship; it is implied in the Bahá’í marriage vow: “We will all, verily, abide by the Will of God.”

Peck explores several aspects of the relationship between love and discipline, such as the need to limit the number of in-depth commitments one makes so that time and energy are available to fulfill those commitments satisfactorily and the need to discipline emotions so that their energy may be harnessed. Thus self-discipline is a form of love translated into action. A truly loving relationship must be a disciplined relationship.

Loving someone requires recognizing and appreciating the distinct individuality of the beloved, as opposed to perceiving the beloved as an extension of oneself. Failure to make such a distinction causes severe interpersonal and developmental problems. Peck states his personal attitudes toward his spouse and marriage as follows: “The purpose and function of . . . [my wife] is to grow to be the most of which she is capable, not for my benefit but for her own and to the glory of God.” “obviously the only ideal resolution [is this]: marriage as a truly cooperative institution, requiring great mutual contributions and care, time and energy, but existing for the primary purpose of nurturing each of the participants for individual journeys toward his or her own individual peaks of spiritual growth.”

Section 3—Growth and Religion

If religion becomes a cause of dislike, hatred and division, it were better to be without it, and to withdraw from such a religion would be a truly religious act.

—‘Abdu’l-Bahá

Stressing that his definition of religion is no narrow concept, limited only to theology, Peck asserts that everyone has a religion. It consists in each person’s understanding of what life is about. Spiritual development entails questioning and learning. If one learns a concept of God that is inaccurate and harmful to one’s spiritual growth, one must alter the concept or remain spiritually crippled. He cites case histories that demonstrate various inappropriate concepts of God.

Peck distinguishes between faith and dogmatism, warning against “throwing the baby out with the bath water.” He points out that for some people science becomes a dogmatic religion. Dogmatism causes one to abandon dedication to reality and to refuse to see evidences [Page 54] of anything he wishes to deny. Peck muses that apparent paradoxes are ignored or discounted by many people, but the scientific community is gradually recognizing the reality of paradox. “Is it possible,” he asks, “that we are beginning to see a meeting ground between science and religion?” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá has answered this in the affirmative, teaching that science and religion are but two ways of exploring the same truth.

Section 4—Grace

How great the multitude of truths which the garment of words can never contain! How vast the number of such verities as no expression can adequately describe, whose significance can never be unfolded, and to which not even the remotest allusions can he made! How manifold are the truths which must remain unuttered until the appointed time is come! Even as it hath been said: “Not evetything that a man knoweth can be disclosed, nor can everything that he can disclose be regarded as timely, nor can every timely utterance be considered as suited to the capacity of those who hear it.”

—Bahá’u’lláh

Warning the reader not to close his mind and vision to the daily miracles he calls evidences of grace, Peck maintains that one can take full advantage of these frequent gifts or can choose to ignore them completely. Everyone receives them in abundance, either as gifts or earned rewards. Peck cites the prevalence of disease-causing agents and accident hazards to which each person is daily exposed and submits that we have no reason to expect to be generally as healthy and unscathed as we are. The prevalence of good health and good fortune, despite odds to the contrary, he considers evidence of grace.

Peck also believes that the phenomenon of fortunate coincidence is far too common to be accidental and that this synchronicity is a manifestation of grace. Evidence indicates to him that these phenomena represent “a powerful force originating outside of human consciousness which nurtures the spiritual growth of human beings.” He identifies the Source of this power as God.

Peck concludes that the collective unconscious proposed by Jung may be the locus for God. Though the attempt to limit God to a single (or even multiple) location—to limit the essence of the unknowable Creator to the confines of a concept of finite minds— is unacceptable to Bahá’ís, his line of reasoning brings to mind the Arabic Hidden Word, “Turn thy sight unto thyself, that thou mayest find Me standing within thee, mighty, powerful and self-subsisting.” It would seem that here is another paradoxical reality.

In a section on evolution Peck invites the reader to consider its miraculous aspects. Despite the second law of thermodynamics, evolution continues to produce increasingly complex and more highly organized and differentiated beings. He includes not only the physical evolution of any given species but the spiritual evolution of man and the evolution of civilization.

Peck proposes that love is the force behind evolution, the energy source overcoming the force of entropy. Bahá’u’lláh’s words seem to [Page 55] validate Peck’s conclusion: “Having created the world and all that liveth and moveth therein, He, through the direct operation of His unconstrained and sovereign Will, chose to confer upon man the unique distinction and capacity to know Him and to love Him —a capacity that must needs be regarded as the generating impulse and the primary purpose underlying the whole of creation.”

Peck further proposes that God’s interest in man’s progress focuses on His goal for him: that man become Himself, or that man evolve into a “new life form” for God. He feels that man will instinctively recoil from this concept because of the enormity of the challenge—again manifesting his inherent tendency for laziness.

Bahá’ís, however, would have quite another reason for rejecting such a thesis. All the Manifestations of God indicate that it is an inaccurate concept, and the Bahá’í writings leave no room for doubt that, while the possibilities for growth, development, and perfection are truly infinite, humanity can progress only as humanity, never changing the essence of its station: “But for every being there is a point which it cannot overpass; that is to say, he who is in the condition of servitude [man], however far he may progress in gaining limitless perfections, will never reach the condition of Deity.” Far from being the lazy alternative, it is the more ambitious, since it is without end.

To Peck laziness is the original sin. He describes it as the force of entropy within man and the ultimate impediment to his progress. Indeed, Bahá’u’lláh has informed mankind of humanity’s undreamed-of potential and warned that it can be realized only through man’s own efforts: “The heights which, through the most gracious favor of God, mortal man can attain, in this Day, are as yet unrevealed to his sight.” “All that which ye potentially possess can, however, be manifested only as a result of your own volition.”

Peck considers the question of the existence of evil and concludes that evil is the active manifestation of laziness. Evil, he laments, is perhaps inevitable at this stage of evolution and can itself be productive of good in that one’s personal struggles against it foster individual growth. This is another example of tests and trials as manifestations of grace—gifts meant to foster spiritual development.

The book ends with a discussion of choices: to resist grace or welcome it. Peck concludes that one’s spiritual growth is of the utmost importance to God and that it is in the best interest of human progress to develop the ability to recognize and utilize the mysterious assistance He provides.

The Road Less Traveled is well written, thought provoking, and eminently usable as an aid in the process of spiritual development.

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Authors & Artists

JULIE OEMING BADIEE is an assistant professor of art history at Western Maryland College. She holds a B.A. in German from the University of Michigan and an M.A. in the history of Western art and a Ph.D. in the history of Islamic art from the same university. She has published works on Islamic illuminated manuscripts. Her interests include music, travel, and ceramics.

A. M. GHADIRIAN is an assistant professor at McGill University and a staff psychiatrist at the Royal Victoria Hospital and the Montreal General Hospital. He received a medical degree from Tabriz University and postdoctoral degrees in psychiatry from Ohio State University and McGill University. Dr. Ghadirian is a Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Canada. He has published over twenty articles on various aspects of psychological medicine and has recently edited a book on the therapeutic aspect of affective disorders.

JOLIE V. HAUG is in a premedical program at Colorado State University and hopes to attend a chiropractic college. She holds a B.S. in music education from the State University Teacher’s College at Potsdam, New York, and virtually completed an M.A. in performance and music literature at the Eastman School of Music. She also holds a diploma in writing children’s literature. Her interests include horses, goats, and music.

GAYLE MORRISON, who holds an M.A. in social education from the University of Massachusetts, studied history as an undergraduate and in an M.A. program in Southeast Asia studies at Yale University. Extracts from her biography of Louis Gregory appeared in our Summer and Fall 1979 issues. To Move the World, the complete biography, will be published in late 1980 or early 1981 by the Bahá’í Publishing Trust.

FREDRICK ZYDEK teaches poetry at the University of Nebraska at Omaha. He received his B.A. degree from Seattle University and his M.A. at the University of Washington. He has published essays, fiction, poetry, and reviews in journals such as America, Carolina Quarterly, the Dublin Magazine, Poetry Northwest, and Yankee. The University of Nebraska published in 1979 a collection of Mr. Zydek’s poems entitled Lights Along the Missouri.

ART CREDITS: Cover, design by John Solarz, photograph by Glenford E. Mitchell; p. 1, photograph by Glenford E. Mitchell; p. 7, drawing by Bill Dennisuk; p. 8, photograph of Louis G. Gregory, courtesy Bahá’í National Archives; p. 32, photograph by Kurt Hein; p. 49, photograph by Kurt Hein; p. 50, photograph by Camille O’Reilly.

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