The Kingdom of God Is Within You, Leo Nikoleyevich Tolstoy [books to read fiction .TXT] 📗
- Author: Leo Nikoleyevich Tolstoy
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dinner, to finish seeing the new play, or to enjoy to the end the
ball, the Christmas fete, the promenade, the races or, the hunt,
thanks to the policeman’s revolver or the soldier’s rifle, which
will shoot down the famished outcast who has been robbed of his
share, and who looks round the corner with covetous eyes at our
pleasures, ready to interrupt them instantly, were not the
policeman and the soldier there prepared to run up at our first
call for help.
And therefore just as a brigand caught in broad daylight in the
act cannot persuade us that he did not lift his knife in order to
rob his victim of his purse, and had no thought of killing him, we
too, it would seem, cannot persuade ourselves or others that the
soldiers and policemen around us are not to guard us, but only for
defense against foreign foes, and to regulate traffic and f�tes
and reviews; we cannot persuade ourselves and others that we do
not know that men do not like dying of hunger, bereft of the right
to gain their subsistence from the earth on which they live; that
they do not like working underground, in the water, or in stifling
heat, for ten to fourteen hours a day, at night in factories to
manufacture objects for our pleasure. One would imagine it
impossible to deny what is so obvious. Yet it is denied.
Still, there are, among the rich, especially among the young, and
among women, persons whom I am glad to meet more and more
frequently, who, when they are shown in what way and at what cost
their pleasures are purchased, do not try to conceal the truth,
but hiding their heads in their hands, cry: “Ah! don’t speak of
that. If it is so, life is impossible.” But though there are
such sincere people who even though they cannot renounce their
fault, at least see it, the vast majority of the men of the modern
world have so entered into the parts they play in their hypocrisy
that they boldly deny what is staring everyone in the face.
“All that is unjust,” they say; “no one forces the people to work
for the landowners and manufacturers. That is an affair of free
contract. Great properties and fortunes are necessary, because
they provide and organize work for the working classes. And labor
in the factories and workshops is not at all the terrible thing
you make it out to be. Even if there are some abuses in
factories, the government and the public are taking steps to
obviate them and to make the labor of the factory workers much
easier, and even agreeable. The working classes are accustomed to
physical labor, and are, so far, fit for nothing else. The
poverty of the people is not the result of private property in
land, nor of capitalistic oppression, but of other causes: it is
the result of the ignorance, brutality, and intemperance of the
people. And we men in authority who are striving against this
impoverishment of the people by wise legislation, we capitalists
who are combating it by the extension of useful inventions, we
clergymen by religious instruction, and we liberals by the
formation of trades unions, and the diffusion of education, are in
this way increasing the prosperity of the people without changing
our own positions. We do not want all to be as poor as the poor;
we want all to be as rich as the rich. As for the assertion that
men are ill treated and murdered to force them to work for the
profit of the rich, that is a sophism. The army is only called
out against the mob, when the people, in ignorance of their own
interests, make disturbances and destroy the tranquillity
necessary for the public welfare. In the same way, too, it is
necessary to keep in restraint the malefactors for whom the
prisons and gallows are established. We ourselves wish to
suppress these forms of punishment and are working in that
direction.”
Hypocrisy in our day is supported on two sides: by false religion
and by false science. And it has reached such proportions that if
we were not living in its midst, we could not believe that men
could attain such a pitch of self-deception. Men of the present
day have come into such an extraordinary condition, their hearts
are so hardened, that seeing they see not, hearing they do not
hear, and understand not.
Men have long been living in antagonism to their conscience. If
it were not for hypocrisy they could not go on living such a life.
This social organization in opposition to their conscience only
continues to exist because it is disguised by hypocrisy.
And the greater the divergence between actual life and men’s
conscience, the greater the extension of hypocrisy. But even
hypocrisy has its limits. And it seems to me that we have reached
those limits in the present day.
Every man of the present day with the Christian principles
assimilated involuntarily in his conscience, finds himself in
precisely the position of a man asleep who dreams that he is
obliged to do something which even in his dream he knows he ought
not to do. He knows this in the depths of his conscience, and all
the same he seems unable to change his position; he cannot stop
and cease doing what he ought not to do. And just as in a dream,
his position becoming more and more painful, at last reaches such
a pitch of intensity that he begins sometimes to doubt the reality
of what is passing and makes a moral effort to shake off the
nightmare which is oppressing him.
This is just the condition of the average man of our Christian
society. He feels that all that he does himself and that is done
around him is something absurd, hideous, impossible, and opposed
to his conscience; he feels that his position is becoming more and
more unendurable and reaching a crisis of intensity.
It is not possible that we modern men, with the Christian sense of
human dignity and equality permeating us soul and body, with our
need for peaceful association and unity between nations, should
really go on living in such a way that every joy, every
gratification we have is bought by the sufferings, by the lives of
our brother men, and moreover, that we should be every instant
within a hair’s-breadth of falling on one another, nation against
nation, like wild beasts, mercilessly destroying men’s lives and
labor, only because some benighted diplomatist or ruler says or
writes some stupidity to another equally benighted diplomatist or
ruler.
It is impossible. Yet every man of our day sees that this is so
and awaits the calamity. And the situation becomes more and more
insupportable.
And as the man who is dreaming does not believe that what appears
to him can be truly the reality and tries to wake up to the actual
real world again, so the average man of modern days cannot in the
bottom of his heart believe that the awful position in which he is
placed and which is growing worse and worse can be the reality,
and tries to wake up to a true, real life, as it exists in his
conscience.
And just as the dreamer need only make a moral effort and ask
himself, “Isn’t it a dream?” and the situation which seemed to him
so hopeless will instantly disappear, and he will wake up to
peaceful and happy reality, so the man of the modern world need
only make a moral effort to doubt the reality presented to him by
his own hypocrisy and the general hypocrisy around him, and to ask
himself, “Isn’t it all a delusion?” and he will at once, like the
dreamer awakened, feel himself transported from an imaginary and
dreadful world to the true, calm, and happy reality.
And to do this a man need accomplish no great feats or exploits.
He need only make a moral effort.
But can a man make this effort?
According to the existing theory so essential to support
hypocrisy, man is not free and cannot change his life.
“Man cannot change his life, because he is not free. He is not
free, because all his actions are conditioned by previously
existing causes. And whatever the man may do there are always
some causes or other through which he does these or those acts,
and therefore man cannot be free and change his life,” say the
champions of the metaphysics of hypocrisy. And they would be
perfectly right if man were a creature without conscience and
incapable of moving toward the truth; that is to say, if after
recognizing a new truth, man always remained at the same stage of
moral development. But man is a creature with a conscience and
capable of attaining a higher and higher degree of truth. And
therefore even if man is not free as regards performing these or
those acts because there exists a previous cause for every act,
the very causes of his acts, consisting as they do for the man of
conscience of the recognition of this or that truth, are within
his own control.
So that though man may not be free as regards the performance of
his actions, he is free as regards the foundation on which they
are performed. Just as the mechanician who is not free to modify
the movement of his locomotive when it is in motion, is free to
regulate the machine beforehand so as to determine what the
movement is to be.
Whatever the conscious man does, he acts just as he does, and not
otherwise, only because he recognizes that to act as he is acting
is in accord with the truth, or because he has recognized it at
some previous time, and is now only through inertia, through
habit, acting in accordance with his previous recognition of
truth.
In any case, the cause of his action is not to be found in any
given previous fact, but in the consciousness of a given relation
to truth, and the consequent recognition of this or that fact as a
sufficient basis for action.
Whether a man eats or does not eat, works or rests, runs risks or
avoids them, if he has a conscience he acts thus only because he
considers it right and rational, because he considers that to act
thus is in harmony with truth, or else because he has made this
reflection in the past.
The recognition or non-recognition of a certain truth depends not
on external causes, but on certain other causes within the man
himself. So that at times under external conditions apparently
very favorable for the recognition of truth, one man will not
recognize it, and another, on the contrary, under the most
unfavorable conditions will, without apparent cause, recognize it.
As it is said in the Gospel, “No man can come unto me, except the
Father which hath sent me draw him.” That is to say, the
recognition of truth, which is the cause of all the manifestations
of human life, does not depend on external phenomena, but on
certain inner spiritual characteristics of the man which escape
our observation.
And therefore man, though not free in his acts, always feels
himself free in what is the motive of his acts—the recognition or
non-recognition of truth. And he feels himself independent not
only of facts external to his own personality, but even of his own
actions.
Thus a man who under the influence of passion has committed an act
contrary to the truth he recognizes, remains none the less free to
recognize it or not
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