One of the greatest minds of our time, at least in my opinion, Dr. Jordan B. Peterson, has once asserted, “A harmless man is not a good man. A good man is a very very dangerous man who has that under voluntary control.” Conspicuously, he wasn’t calling for men to be weak in order for them to be good, but strong. What he meant with that assertion is, that every good man (or, human, in general) should invest in his strengths and capabilities and their development to optimal levels; which would, in turn, make it inopportune for his fellowmen to assault him, given his ability to retaliate; but he wouldn’t indulge in exerting them (his strengths and capabilities) senselessly (i.e. pursue every conflict/war he can win). Unfortunately, Dr. Peterson is all too often misinterpreted by a parade of halfwits; therefore, I should bring to the reader’s attention that he had explicitly stated, on multiple occasions, that he “HATES [much emphasis added here] conflict.”
If I understood him correctly, as I would hope, the good man according to Dr. Peterson is the educated and competent man. And by educated, I don’t refer exclusively to the literate and schooled man, as the term commonly imply nowadays. Rather, I employ it herein in its archaic connotation derived from the Greek paideía (παιδεία)—which is, literally translated, an imperative to “tame thyself!”
Rings a bell? How about, a very very dangerous man who has that under voluntary control?
Personally, I am strongly inclined to declare Peterson’s good man the type of human capable of conceiving conscious peace. But what is conscious peace?
Earlier, in “Human Consciousness and Peace: How the Perception of Man as a Social Animal Inhibits the Manifestation of Conscious Peace,” I defined peace—consciously perceived, that is—as a “disinclination to conflict.” Nevertheless, it is an absolute naïveté to assume that conflict is ephemeral; for it is a constant condition in the state of nature. Hence, I further elaborated, therein, that peace “stems from an utter disinclination towards their [conflicts] manifestation as a relational state of being, regardless of the outcome.” Moreover, I have also explicated how the ‘peace through strength’ of the animalis socialis (social animal), a slave to the res extensa (the body), does not differ from that of the wild beast, whose peace (i.e. mere suspension of hostilities [Note: even our dictionaries define peace as “a state or period in which there is no war or a war has ended”]) is entirely instinctive and will be abandoned once it (the wild beast) senses a shift in power dynamics in its favor.
Ironically, this renders warfare comprehensible; given that humans acting wholly as social animals, as only res extensas (bodies), ipso facto ceasing to be res cogitans (thinking things), are instinctively driven to engage in all conflicts they ‘sense’ that they can win, in like manner of the wild beast. Simultaneously, it showcases the unconscious nature of our peace (the simulacrum), because it isn’t that we are principally rejecting engagement in conflicts, so much we are practicing self-preservation—which makes this peace an incidental byproduct of instinctive behavior. In short, it is altogether impossible for the animalis socialis to conceive conscious peace.
There is still hope, nonetheless.
Fortunately enough, man is, in rerum natura, a synthesis, res extensa and res cogitan (according to Cartesian metaphysical (or, more precisely, psychological) dualism). For those who don’t know, “Metaphysical dualism is in fact the term applied to the metaphysical theory which claims that there are two ultimate and irreducible kinds of reality. If one adheres to the concept of metaphysical dualism, he believes that everything that exists in the world is either A or B, and the most usual classification is either physical or nonphysical,” (“Descartes Res Cogitans and Res Extensa”). In similar vein, Cartesian psychological dualism can be defined as, “A reality consisting of only two kinds of substances mental or res cogitans, and physical or res extensa. According to Descartes, res cogitans can never be shown to be, derived from, or a form of, or a function of, or reducible to, res extensa, and vice versa.” (“Descartes Res Cogitans and Res Extensa”)
The pressing question at the moment is thus: to which of the two kinds of substances a reality of peace corresponds?
Since peace is a disinclination to conflict, an incorporeal state, it obviously corresponds to the mental kind of substance—eo ipso, to the res cogitan; which, in effect, makes it unattainable to the res extensa separated from the res cogitan; i.e. to creatures whose existential condition is, in its entirety, defined by their bodies.
Some might hastily interject, “Well, empirical evidence shows that some animals have cerebral activity, and thereby think—let alone the social animal, i.e. man!”
Insofar ‘thinking’ is understood, though erroneously, as simply a cerebral process limited to the reception and processing of sensory inputs, this claim stands valid. However, it is far more complex than that. God’s honest truth, I find it quite daunting and eerily frustrating, even depressing, that the vast majority of humans perceive their thinking faculty as just that—a mere processor. Thinking, my dear fellows, is the most readily accessible divine faculty to us. Simply put, it is our very first experience of divinity, as beings created in the image of the Most High.
Thinking as a human capacity isn’t just the processing of inputs; rather, a divine quality of having the ability to consume, bend, and manipulate information in order to produce ideas; thereby, it allows humans to engage in the incorporeal realm, to reach for the form of things (in a Platonic sense) and contribute (add) to it; hence, they become aware of their possession of a self, which has a will and the volition to exercise that will; consequently, they would, first, entertain mastery of their bodies (res extensas), and second, have dominion over the earth. That is to say, we are the captains of our spirit, the masters of our destiny! [see, “On Losing One’s Self: Reclaiming the Self”]
To elucidate the matter further, remember the cited quote from Count Mirandola’s “Oration on the Dignity of Man,” in the first article of this series? In case you don’t, it is worth reciting all the same,
“On man when he came into life the Father conferred the seeds of all kinds and the germs of every way of life. Whatever seeds each man cultivates will grow to maturity and bear in him their own fruit. If they be vegetative, he will be like a plant. If sensitive, he will become brutish. If rational, he will grow into a heavenly being. If intellectual he will be an angel and the son of God.”(Cassirer et al., p. 225)
Admittedly, it is a bit puzzling; but not if one puts in a mild effort to think it through. To aid the reader with the task, I will share how it was first explained to me by my philosophy professor (PhD. Arianne Conty); I should probably add here, that I had previously used her explanation as the substratum for my own interpretation in an earlier paper of mine, published on academia.edu, “Consciousness: Heaven and Hades,”
[Note: this is my best recollection of her explanation, given that nine years had passed since]
In a nutshell, God created man; placed him in the middle of the existential hierarchy (creation was the word she used); and bestowed upon him the grace of free mobility up and down that hierarchy. Man can thence—should he choose to— elevate himself and transcend to the sanctity of the angels, or plunge to the savagery of the brutes.
Conspicuously, the animalis socialis, by giving in entirely [emphasis added] to his physical instincts (and sentimentality), is bound for the latter eventuality. Alternatively, the res cogitan, who reigns supreme over the res extensa, is bound for the former.
But what makes the res cogitan Dr. Peterson’s good man; far more importantly still, the man capable of conceiving conscious peace?
The answer emanates from, and revolves around, the principle of the best plausible collective interest [emphasis added], which I fathomed following this line of reasoning:
““If rational, he will grow into a heavenly being.” Pico had rightly separated reason from intellect, in spite of the fact that both are attributes of the res cogitan, for not every reason is inherently intellectual. Reason precedes intellect, and is a prerequisite for the latter. As such, primitive reason is independent of intellect in essence. On the one hand, reason is a question of right and wrong and founded upon cause. Whilst on the other hand, intellect is a question of effect and founded upon interest—especially, the best plausible one. The rational slave obeyed his master, given that his obedience was the guarantee for his life; as such, his self-preservation constituted a just cause for him to do so [i.e. unconscious peace]. Contrariwise, the rational and intellectual slave engaged himself in an intellectual process of weighing the outcomes of multiple courses of action based on the best plausible interest [emphasis added] he’s conscious of, and decided to rebel and claim his liberty [‘a very very dangerous man who has that under voluntary control’]. Thence, mere self-preservation had been deemed as a fallacious cause for existence by the intellect, since to live freely brings far superior plausible rewards; whereas reason only took into consideration the immediately apparent [emphasis added] yet erroneous just cause. One cannot fail to notice the influence of the scripture over Pico della Mirandola, “And the Lord God said, Behold, the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil…” (Gen. 3:22, KJV). Therefore, a rational man grows into a heavenly being for he becomes aware of the notions of right and wrong; ought and ought not; or, in biblical terms good and evil; and, the causality thereof.
Thus, when the human consciousness rationally ponders the best plausible interest, only then will it become intellectual. “If intellectual he will be an angel and the son of God.” Intellect practically eliminates the erroneous, and fallaciously believed, ‘just cause’ from the rational equation, whilst abiding reason to ‘the right cause’ on the basis of interest. Pico also noted that, “If you see a philosopher determining all things by means of right reason [my formatting, added for emphasis], him you shall reverence: he is a heavenly being and not of this earth,” (Cassirer et. al 226). Heavenly being, indeed! But, does not quite become ‘an angle and the son of God’ until in the firmness of his conscious freewill chooses and, if must needs be, undertakes the actions which should most definitely render outcomes in the best plausible interest of the entire cosmos. If acting according to his personal best plausible interest, he is indubitably intellectual. Nonetheless, that intellectualism should transcend to encompass the universal best interest; lest it fails to set man in motion upward the existential hierarchy towards being a son of God. For the Most High demands that man simulates him in order for the latter to ascend unto sanctity: “But as he which hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of conversation; Because it is written, Be ye holy; for I am holy” (1 Peter 1:15-16, KJV). Now, God, the fountainhead of all wisdom and intellect, did not create the best possible world according to the interests of one person, or a group of people, or a nation, nor that of one breed of creatures; but based on the collective and universal interests of all elements in existence (Leibniz, 1716).
Master Leibniz most aptly explained, “As in mathematics, when there is no maximum nor minimum, in short nothing distinguished, everything is done equally, or when that is not possible nothing at all is done: so it may be said likewise in respect of perfect wisdom, which is no less orderly than mathematics, that if there were not the best (optimum) among all possible worlds, God would not have produced any ”(Leibniz 314). And so he concluded that, ““Wherein already I laid it down that God, having chosen the most perfect of all possible worlds, had been prompted by his wisdom to permit the evil which was bound up with it, but which still did not prevent this world from being, all things considered, the best that could be chosen” (Leibniz 158). That being the case, there is no person godlier than the rational and intellectual slave who had in the firmness of his consciousness found the volition to elevate himself to the sanctity of angels, did not seek to break his own, and only his, bondage; instead chose to pursue the abolition of slavery altogether: contemplating a better future for the generations to come—and for the multitude of the diverse ethnicities (not races, for I firmly hold the belief that there could be only one human race, but this discourse is beyond the scope of this essay) of mankind—which could not have had manifested except by means of forsaking his unintellectual yet rational cause for self-preservation for the collective best interest of mankind. Once again, the intention here is not to discard the prominence of intellectual faculties engaged in egocentric interests; nevertheless, the intellect elevates the individual to the sanctity of the angels under the condition that its founding interest is the best plausible collective one [emphasis added]. To be a son of God, however, the res cogitan must hold the notion that the collective entails God’s creation in its entirety. In such state of being, transcendent and holy, the res cogitan experiences a perfect unity with the soul: no longer derives its consciousness from the latter, but entertains the same eternal and supreme, i.e. rational and intellectual, consciousness itself.” (Nasif)
Put succinctly, unlike the social animal—who is just an anonymous unit amongst the crowd—the res cogitan is capable of becoming a rational and intellectual individual [see, “Hordes: the Extermination of the Conscious Individual”]—who comprehends that conflict is a constant in the state of nature, therefore cannot be perpetually evaded; simultaneously, he is cognizant of good and evil, and that conflict pertains to the latter, thus he hates it—notwithstanding, it can be managed, as it should, to produce the best plausible collective interest— and, towards such end, the res cogitan sets himself upon the task of resolving conflicts on a universal scale. Accordingly, I have put forth the following proposition in, “End of the Simulation: Human Consciousness and the Ukraine Crisis,” that we can only achieve peace by eradicating from our collective mind all prospects of gains that war might yield in absolute terms.
How so?
In sum, upon the revival of the individual res cogitan, who is competent (i.e. strong and able) and educated (i.e. has an astounding self-restraint), in the collective mind of humanity, whenever a casus belli manifests, it will no longer be gauged vis-á-vis one’s ability to prevail or destroy the other side; instead, it shall be processed in terms of the best plausible collective interest. Hence, since the triumph of one is founded upon the destruction of the other—and, likewise, the gains of one side are the losses of the other—in the event of war; and, as a result, the best plausible collective interest will inevitably suffer diminishment; the res cogitan would, then, naturally develop a disinclination to conflicts and wars, due to their detrimental fallouts on the best plausible collective interest—which, in the firmness of his conscious self, and of his own volition, he chose to pursue. That, in short, is how conscious peace might be attained.
Reference
“Descartes Res Cogitans and Res Extensa.” Philosophy, definitionofphilosophy.blogspot.com/2016/02/descartes-res-cogitans-and-res-extensa.html. Accessed 22 June 2022.
Cassirer, Ernst, et al. The Renaissance Philosophy of Man: Petrarca, Valla, Ficino, Pico, Pomponazzi, Vives. U of Chicago P, 2011.
Leibniz, Gottfried W. Theodicy. Apple Books; La Salle, Illinois: Open Court, translated by E.M. Huggard from C.J. Gerhardt’s Edition of the Collected Philosophical Works, 1875-1890, originally published in 1716.
