Having My Way

19

REVERENCE, THAT ANGEL OF THE WORLD

Always and in everything let there be reverence.

—CONFUCIUS

Moral philosophy is the study of right and wrong. Economics is a branch thereof: the study of right and wrong as the results bear upon the overcoming of scarcity. The tendency among most “economists” and many free market devotees is to concentrate on the branch, economics, while ignoring the tree, morality. Indeed, ever so many deem it quixotic to do otherwise; to bring morality into the problem of scarcity is to climb aboard “cloud 9”; it is to go into reverie or daydreams. Such aspersions are utter folly, for if the tree be rotten the branch is dead!

To make my point, assume every American to be as knowledgeable in economics as the renowned Ludwig von Mises, but utterly devoid of moral scruples. The economic knowledge would be misused. The aim of maximizing comfort while minimizing effort would lead to political means for the enriching of some at the expense of others. This, in turn, would diminish productivity and introduce scarcity. Scarcity and immorality, in fact, go hand in hand precisely as do scarcity and thievery. Try to imagine a society of thieves! In vain; parasites die in the absence of a host. We are forced to conclude that scarcity is best overcome when all are hosts—producers—and none are thieves.

Thievery is on the rampage the world over. While overwhelmingly in the form of legalized plunder, it is as parasitical as the personal holdup variety. Unless checked, it must eventually destroy the hosts.

Stealing, evil as it is, falls short of killing when it comes to man’s inhumanity to man. This, also, is on the rampage and is condoned, if not directly participated in, by millions of citizens in the wars of our age. By far the vast majority of those who approve of the mass slaughter going on in the world today would not personally kill a man, woman, or child. They would prefer their own death to such an offense. Yet, collectivize the action, let it bear the label of government, and all sense of personal guilt vanishes. The feeling is nearly unanimous, “I’m not responsible!” Find even one who thinks of himself as a killer! In consequence of such moral blindness and sloppy thinking tens of thousands have gone to their reward. In any event, let no one, economist or whoever, suggest that ours is not, first and foremost, a moral problem.

It is this line of thought which emphasizes—to me, at least—that sound economic practices are out of the question except as they stem from and are an outgrowth of moral rectitude. The abundant life can no more emerge from immoral behavior than a Statue of Liberty can be built on quicksand. Thus, heed not the counselor who prescribes recipes for more goods and services and omits the essential ingredient: morality! The staff of life—bread—is not made from water alone.

Irreverence seems to be the mood of our time; it is noted all about us. Not only is there a general irreverence for the fruits of another’s labor—legal plunder—but there is an appalling irreverence for human life. Indeed, there is little if any difference between taking the subsistence of life and taking life itself. Who cares whether he is starved or stabbed to death!

The cure for irreverence, and the only one, is reverence—a reverence for life, all life. One wonders how that man, Shakespeare, referred to this virtue as “That angel of the world”—a flash of enlightenment come upon nearly four centuries ago, an insight that is rarely thought of in our time, let alone mentioned!1

It has been my conviction for several years that those of us who favor the freedom philosophy and the superior way of life it makes possible, have been derelict in our explanations; we have been overlooking numerous obscure underpinnings of the philosophy and, in consequence, have failed miserably to make our own case. Reverence for life is indeed an “angel”; it is a virtue to which we must wed ourselves or pay the exorbitant price of irreverence, that is, pay with our lives, no less!

I am the first to admit that a reverence for life—all life, be it plant or animal—is difficult to come by; the awakening must stem from an experience not common to life as we live it today.

Until 17 years ago I did not differ from the mill run of people so far as a reverence for all life is concerned. To use a Davy Crockett term, it took a “sockdolager” to bring me to myself. I share this not with the expectation that my experience will suffice for anyone else but merely to explain my own awakening. The “sockdolager,” an entry in my journal, is entitled, LE DERNIER TESTAMENT D’UN CANARD. It reads thus:

The following explanation is pasted on the back of this painting in case any of LER’s progeny ever have a curiosity as to what inspired this sad scene. Why is the title in French? The duck’s expression had to be deduced by grandpappy just as grandpappy always had to guess what a Frenchman was saying.

“It was a Sunday, October 28, 1956. Len, Jr., and I were in the blinds at 5:30 A.M. at his duck club near Dos Palos, California. There was neither cloud nor breeze. On Wednesday we had had our two limits in an hour—all sprig. On Saturday it had taken us four hours to obtain twenty birds. This Sunday, however, held little promise, for only now and then would a bird come within gunshot.

“I was not doing well at all. Of a sudden, after nearly three hours of relative inactivity, a flock of teal flew by, a little too far away, but possible. My single shot brought down three birds, one dead and two injured—luck like a hole-in-one. Len had no trouble retrieving the crippled and dead birds as I went in search of the other. Eventually, I found this male teal, snuggled against a tuft of water grass, the saddest sight I have ever seen. One tiny pellet from the gunshot had penetrated his left eye. Three drops of blood stained his pretty feathers. His head was turned toward me as I approached, his whole demeanor being not of anger, but, as it seemed to me, of quiet reproach for taking the life of an innocent little fellow—just for fun!

“This picture remained vividly in my memory. On November 20th I phoned Lloyd Sanford, a wildlife artist of the New York Zoological Society, and described the scene to him. The next day his pencil sketch was on my desk. Sanford had caught my impression perfectly.

“This, then is the last testament of a dying duck, stored in my subconscious for nearly a month, communicated electrically to a sympathetic artist, and committed to an oil painting. The painting may never have an appropriate title, but the theme is clear: The teal doesn’t appear to argue that man shouldn’t kill ducks any more than ducks shouldn’t kill fish. He seems only to convey a profound sorrow that an individual with my moral and spiritual pretensions should take the life of such as he while having the effrontery to call it sportsmanship.”

Once “that angel of the world,” as Shakespeare referred to reverence, insinuates itself into one’s consciousness, it extends even to insect and plant life. The great Albert Schweitzer wouldn’t chop down a tree to make way for a hospital; rather, he would transplant it. He was once observed flat on his belly scooping ants from a pile hole into which an ant hill had fallen. Is this carrying reverence for life too far? If so, then I am also an extremist. I have, for instance, taken hornets and wasps from the house on a piece of paper, freeing them to their outdoor kingdom. Never kill anything for the fun of it is the moral lesson that little teal taught me.2

Why dwell on these minutiae? Simply because reverence has its inception—birth—at these lower levels of life. Ingrained at this level, it extends as a moral compulsion into human relationships. He who would not kill a tree or bee for sport will never steal for aggrandizement or otherwise bring avoidable suffering to his fellow man. “Great oaks from little acorns grow”; great men from tiny ova flow; and precisely the same with reverence for life!

While pondering this subject, I came upon an article, “The Vanishing Kangaroo,” an account of a sickening irreverence for life.3

To see a kangaroo in bounding flight is to see nature at its best. To see a big Red chopped down by bullets while loping at 35 miles per hour is to see man at his worst.

And then this commentary:

The willingness to save these gentle, amiable, almost defenseless creatures is important not only in keeping the kangaroos alive, but also in keeping human. (Italics added)

“In keeping human!” Should that not be modified to read, “On becoming human”? Were men to behave no more abominably toward each other than do animals and plants within their species, humans would at least be humane. Remember, a wolf never kills a wolf!4 What is the popular way to correct this widespread irreverence for life? Millions of people deplore what is happening to the kangaroos in Australia, to the wolves in Canada, to wild life all over the globe, and they want to do something. The prescription? Run to government! Pass a law! Reverence, the sole remedy for irreverence, can never be achieved in this manner. Reverence, “that angel of the world,” is a spiritual achievement born, if at all, in the souls of discrete individuals. Reverence for life can no more be forced into existence by a constabulary—laws, edicts—than can the love of one for another. It is always a personal acquisition, never an imposition.

Admittedly, this subject is as “touchy” as it is delicate which is one reason why so few individuals with my point of view ever “stick their necks out.” Why “touchy”? Most people have habits, a way of life as related to all life, so settled and ingrained that they never question whether their positions are right or wrong.

My next point may seem like a concession to irreverence but, really, it is not. Schweitzer concedes, and I agree, that all life lives on life. There is no exception. Vegetarians live on plant life. Thus, every form of life—man, animal, or plant—lives by consuming the living. Otherwise, there would be no life on this earth. From this fact, it follows that living off life cannot be classified as irreverence; this would be a contradiction for, if abandoned, there would be no one to show any reverence for anything.

What then is meant by a reverence for life? When may life be taken—plant or animal—other than to live? My answer: when it aggresses, invades, threatens to take over. Chop down weeds when they invade the garden, or do away with vermin or other pests when pestering. In a word, show reverence for animal and plant life except in instances of intrusion. Employ only defensive force!

It is my contention that if one had this degree and measure of reverence for all plant and animal life, he would quite naturally extend a similar reverence to all human life. This is to say that one would use only defensive, never aggressive, force. In this case, one would not take human life nor break the Commandment, “Thou shalt not kill.” Let me explain.

If another aggresses—comes at me with a dagger, for instance—and is killed as I act in my own defense, it is he, not I, who is responsible for his demise. He initiated the action with its unfortunate result; he committed suicide!

That one should revere the Creator is readily conceded—at least by all truly religious people. Not all such people, however, have taken the logical step of extending reverence to all life—His creation.

It took a green wing teal, a form of life midway between plant and man, to improve my reverence for plant, animal, and man. Imagine my gratitude to that angel of reverence—in my case a bird!

• 1See “The New Science and The New Faith” by Dr. Donald Hatch Andrews, The Freeman, April 1961.
• 2Ibid.
• 3Father Joseph, a devout Capuchin monk and chief advisor to Cardinal Richelieu, believed that the political ascendency of France was the way to bring God to humanity. For an interesting account of this arrogance—the end justifies the means—see Grey Eminence by Aldous Huxley (New York: Harper & Bros., 1941).
• 4A more detailed treatment of these arguments may be found in pages 836-847 of Human Action by Ludwig von Mises.