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Of Speaking With Forked Tongues

Religious Traditions and Speculative Fiction on Hypocrisy

by Manjula Menon

One of the most admired novels of all time is George Orwell’s 1945 work of speculative fiction, Animal Farm. The novel describes a revolt by farm animals, led by pigs, against their loutish human masters. After the animals win control of “Manor Farm”, the pigs swiftly install themselves as the new overseers. The virtuous slogans and uplifting songs that had originally been created in earnest soon become tools of control, as the pigs reveal themselves to be even more cruel than the humans they’d replaced. The ruling pigs, it turned out, had cynically “performed” virtue to seize power. Thus, the pigs were hypocrites.[1]

Influential works of speculative fiction are well known to take philosophical stands, many of which can be encapsulated by the idiom ‘All is fair in love and war’. Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game, to give just one example,explores how a libertarian leaning society responds to war. Animal Farm, on the other hand, is usually described as a satirical allegory of the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia, with the novel’s main characters representing historical counterparts. However, given that immediately prior to writing Animal Farm, Orwell’s creative energies had been focused on writing propaganda radio pieces for the BBC for broadcast to Indian audiences, it should at least be considered that “Manor Farm” represents the British Dominion, the farm animals stand in for colonial subjects, and the human farmers symbolize the Imperial administration.

Orwell’s connections to British India are several. Born in Bengal as Eric Blair in 1903, he chose George Orwell as his literary pseudonym later in life. After a childhood back in England, at the age of 19, Orwell applied for and obtained a position with the Indian Imperial Police, then returned to British India, working as a police officer for five years in Mandalay, Burma. Orwell wrote a novel based on his time there, Burmese Days, a brutal, semi-autobiographical tale of cruelty, venality and corruption that is at least as dark as his later, more famous works. But the novel is also about alienation, the leaden, angry loneliness of a sensitive young man, adrift in a world whose warp and weft are pettiness and hypocrisy.[2] From Burmese Days and other works drawn from his time in Burma, it appears that Orwell was ambivalent about the British imperial project. He nevertheless produced propaganda for the BBC during the second world war, after which he targeted the new enemy: communism. Animal Farm can be read as a warning to subjects of the British empire, both in the colonies and at home, not to fall for the machinations of the virtue-signaling hypocrites who only seek power for themselves.

The etymology of the word “hypocrite” reveals a Greek origin: hypókrisis, “playing a part on the stage, pretending to be something one is not”. In the modern era, the word is used more narrowly, to describe a person who outwardly pretends to be pious or virtuous to further their own material interests. Prior to his wartime propaganda work, Orwell’s talents had been focused on writing semi-autobiographical pieces, but post war, while the style, tone and mood of the works are similar, he became focused on showing how cynical actors use hypocrisy to obtain and retain political power. His later works are masterpieces in using speculative fiction to critique specific political philosophies. In his 1948 novel, 1984, for example, a monstrous regime ruthlessly monitors and controls every action, while mandating the mouthing of virtuous slogans. 1984 is a terrifying tale of grinding loneliness and crushing dread, set against a background of cruelty, tyranny and, indeed, hypocrisy.[3]

Whether it is by describing the pigs who use the other animals to achieve power in Animal Farm, or by detailing how the leaders of 1984 subdue the frightened masses with vacuous slogans and platitudes, Orwell’s speculative fiction aims to persuade. Orwell despises hypocrites who ruthlessly pursue power by pretending to be virtuous, and after reading his superbly executed “show-don’t-tell” works of speculative fiction, the reader feels the same way. Orwell achieves this not by describing mere self-aggrandizement; it is the rare person who has not even slightly embellished, by omission or exaggeration, their own achievements. Neither is he describing outright deceit or fraud. Rather, it is naked self-interest cloaked in showy virtuosness, the hallmark of hypocrisy, that he is aiming for.

The modern notion of a hypocrite as that of a person with societal power and influence, one who publicly decries and penalizes others for not demonstrating sufficient piety, all the while doing whatever they wish in private, is at least in theory universally known and reviled. But where did this idea of a hypocrite originate? And is there something particular about the current moment that might warrant returning the idea to prominence?

In Part II of The Nicomachean Ethics, the 4th century Greek philosopher Aristotle made a distinction between universally held ethical principles that do not vary across cultures and customs, versus ethical principles based on local convention: “… the rules of justice ordained not by nature but by man are not the same in all places, since forms of government are not the same …”, [4] going on to list adultery, theft and murder as behaviors that would always be considered wrong.[5]  To Aristotle’s list of universally despised behaviors, I will add a disdain for those who signal, but do not practice, virtue. One of the reasons that Orwell’s novels continue to be so popular is that nobody has ever liked a hypocrite.

That the revulsion for hypocrites is not merely a modern phenomenon can be verified by reading the works of the world’s major religions, where remarks against false piety can be found. The original works have spawned several English translations each, so for the purposes of this essay, I have drawn on ones that are easily accessible and widely known.

The Buddhist text Dhammapada is a compilation of the sayings of the Buddha, estimated to have lived 6th or 5th BC in modern-day Nepal and India. The Dhammapada asks in Chapter 26, 394: What is the use of platted hair, O fool! what of the raiment of goat-skins? Within thee there is ravening, but the outside thou makest clean.[6]

Likewise, the Hindu text, the Bhagavad Gita, estimated to be anywhere from 7000 – 400 BCE, India, offers remarks against false piety.

“Led astray by many thoughts, entangled in a net of delusion, addicted to the gratification of desires—they fall into an impure hell.

Self-conceited, obstinate, full of intoxication and pride of wealth—they perform merely nominal sacrifices with deceit and without following proper rules.” [7]

The Jewish Pentateuch hails from around 1500 – 400 BCE and arose in the area of modern-day Israel. The Pentateuch, in Jeremiah, 7, 9-10, also invokes the idea of hypocrisy as when the Lord asks of his people:

9 How will ye steal, murder, and commit adultery, and swear falsely, and burn incense unto Ba’al, and walk after other gods of which ye have had no knowledge;

10 And (then) come and stand before my presence in this house, which is called by my name, and say, ” We are delivered;” in order to do all these abominations?[8]

The books of the other Abrahamic religions are more direct. The Islamic holy book, the Quran, from the 7th century AD, modern-day Saudi Arabia, has an entire section, the 63rd sura, the title of which is usually translated into English as “The Hypocrites”. Verse 4 of this sura describes hypocrites thus:

“4 When you see them, their outward appearance pleases you; when they speak, you listen to what they say. But they are like propped-up timbers—they think every cry they hear is against them—and they are the enemy. Beware of them. May God confound them! How devious they are!”[9]

Among all the major religions, however, it is the Gospels of the Christian Bible, written in 1st century AD, modern day Syria, Turkey and Israel, that have most to say about hypocrites and hypocrisy. Given the Bible’s enormous influence on global culture, this is likely where the modern sense of the word is derived from. Hypocrites are described in the Gospels as the powerful elites of the day, who penalized others for not following the laws and rules that they did not follow themselves. As in the modern sense, the biblical notion of hypocrisy involves the thicker notion of virtue-signaling elites. Take for example, Matthew Chapter 23 in which Jesus warns against hypocrites:

Matthew 23, 3: “All therefore whatsoever they bid you observe, that observe and do; but do not ye after their works: for they say, and do not.” [10]

Matthew 23, 28: “Even so ye also outwardly appear righteous unto men, but within ye are full of hypocrisy and iniquity.”[10]

Distrust of institutions is widespread and growing as evidenced by the many political upheavals observed around the world. One modern-day institution that stands accused of hypocrisy is the global news media. Television news has a similar feel the world over, featuring strident brass and percussion lead-ins, “breaking news” chyrons playing in an endless loop, and news segments presented by powdered and coiffed anchors who subtly move their heads in singular ways as they read from their teleprompters. Modern media professionals are known to be fond of “gotcha” soundbites, where they attempt to draw a controversial statement from an interviewee. This scenario was described in Mark 12, 13-17, where an unsuccessful attempt is made for a “gotcha” from Jesus:

“13 [And] they send unto him certain of the Pharisees and of the Herodians, to catch him in his words.

14 And when they were come, they say unto him, Master, we know that thou art true, and carest for no man: for thou regardest not the person of men, but teachest the way of God in truth: Is it lawful to give tribute to Cesar, or not?

15 Shall we give, or shall we not give? But he, knowing their hypocrisy, said unto them, Why tempt ye me? bring me a penny, that I may see it.

16 And they brought it. And he saith unto them, Whose is this image and superscription? And they said unto him, Cesar’s.

17 And Jesus answering said unto them, Render to Cesar the things that are Cesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s. And they marvelled at him.” [11]

What has remained true through the ages appears to be a yearning for truth, for leaders who do what they say, and practice what they preach. Modern politics, however, is rife with people who make rules for others that they themselves do not follow. This type of person is so ubiquitous in the profession, that a politician who simply refrains from performative moralizing has already distinguished themselves from the others. It is not hard to recall politicians who despite observable flaws have become enormously popular merely by not engaging in performative moralizing and therefore coming across as endearingly authentic. Leaders who speak authentically, warts and all, are increasingly seen as more trustworthy of delivering what they say they will, as opposed to those who say whatever virtuous thing they have been told to say for the cameras.

The hypocrisy of societies could be seen as the hypocrisy of individuals, writ large. In addition to the previously mentioned Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game, other enormously popular works of contemporary speculative fiction describe societies who strive for fairness at home while acting without mercy in times of war. Consider Phlebas by Iain Banks and Starship Troopers by Robert A. Heinlein both feature societies who strive for libertarian ideals while engaging in pitiless wars. In Iain Bank’s Culture series, for example, the Culture, a society presented as a post-scarcity, hedonistic utopia for those within it, is nevertheless relentless in pursuing its military and political aims. In the first novel in the series, Consider Phlebas, the Culture, led by the godlike artificial intelligences known as ‘minds’, goes to war against the alien Iridans, who in turn fight on behalf of their religion.

Likewise, the “citizens” and “civilians” who make up Robert A. Heinlein’s Terran Foundation in Starship Troopers are presented as being part of an egalitarian representative democracy, albeit one where the right to vote as a citizen is earned not by birthright, but after completing service to the state, usually in the military. Like the Culture, the Terran Federation is ruthless in pursuit of military victory.

A major feature of both works is the description of the technical wizardry used to prosecute wars. The Culture and Terrans appear to aim for a better, fairer world, but they are also heavily invested in battle technology and military assets. The contrast might strike one as hypocritical, but both works present a strawman of a scenario, viz the threats faced by these already formidably armed societies are described as existential and what are mighty militaries for if not to defend against such threats?

The Culture wields power not merely by military might, but also through a cadre of diplomats and spies who work clandestinely and ruthlessly behind the scenes to ensure victory. Unlike the Terrans, who are front and center about their military’s primal importance, the Culture’s denizens appear to be mostly disinterested in the battles being waged on their behalf.  If a charge of hypocrisy can be brought, it is perhaps against those secretive agents of the Culture who justify any means towards their end, in the name of their ideals.

Whether in the sacred texts of world religions or in the pages of popular works of speculative fiction, whether focused on actions of individuals or those of societies, the theme of hypocrisy continues to resonate through time and across the world.

~

[1] George Orwell, Animal Farm

[2] George Orwell, Burmese Days

[3] George Orwell, 1984

[4] Aristotle, The Nicomachean Ethics

[5] Aristotle, The Nicomachean Ethics

[6] Dhammapada, Chapter XXVI

[7]  Bhagavadgita, Chapter XVI

[8] The Pentateuch, Chapter VII

[9] The Quran, Sura 63

[10] The Bible, Matthew 23

[11] The Bible, Mark 12


Bio:

Manjula Menon once worked as an electrical engineer in Brussels, which makes publishing essays in Sci Phi Journal her “homecoming of sorts”. A list of her other publications can be found at www.manjulamenon.com

No Room At The Infinity Inn

by Richard Lau

Joseph had never seen Bethlehem so crowded. It seemed like an endless number of people was packed in the streets and surrounding structures.

But he had more important things on his mind. His pregnant wife Mary was about to give birth, and he could not find a place of sufficient space and privacy.

“I’m sorry, sir,” apologized the front desk clerk, “as I said, we have no rooms available. They are all filled.”

“How can they all be filled?” demanded the expectant father-to-be. “This is the Infinity Inn! It’s known for having an infinite number of rooms!”

“That’s true,” admitted the clerk. “Unfortunately, at this time of year, especially during the census, we have an infinite number of guests!”

“But…” started Joseph, struggling to picture that many people in a head whose capacity was twenty.

Beside him, Mary took a deep breath and released a slow, smooth sigh. She was well-aware of her husband’s penchant for stubborn argument and unnecessary discourse, particularly when he was tired and under pressure.

Joseph continued. “Doesn’t having so many guests make taking a census impossible?”

The clerk thought for a moment and then nodded. “That does make it more difficult. And the task does seem to take a while. But who can say when one census ends and the next one begins?”

Joseph was about to argue the point when his wife’s elbow nudged a familiar area in his ribcage.

Joseph leaned forward. “Well, we don’t have an infinite amount of time. Can’t you see my wife is pregnant?”

“Yes,” acknowledged the clerk. “Congratulations.”

“So, we really need a room.”

“I am not disagreeing with your need, sir. I am just unable to fulfill your request.”

Joseph tried another approach. “Wait a minute. In order to have an infinite amount of rooms, you have to be adding rooms constantly, otherwise you’d just end up with a finite number, isn’t that correct? It would be a rather large finite number but still finite!”

“True,” agreed the clerk, nodding his head. “We do have the continuous construction of new rooms. Fortunately, the guests don’t seem to mind the noise.”

“So, give us one of those rooms,” insisted Joseph. “One of the new additional rooms you’re adding.” He gave a “know-it-all” and “I-told-you-so” look at his wife.

She frowned, holding her protruding belly. Of all the inopportune times for her headstrong husband to get into a one-upmanship contest!

“I have to apologize again, sir,” said the clerk. “We have a waiting list for those rooms, and it is infinitely long. We can add you to the list, but it could take a while before we can get you a room, and, as you say, I’m not sure if your wife has that much time.”

Mary tugged on her husband’s sleeve, but Joseph had thought of yet another angle.

“All we need is one room,” Joseph said. “I’m sure with the infinite number of guests here, you’ll be able to find two guests willing to share a room for the good of a woman about to be in labor.”

The clerk at least tried to look sympathetic. “That may be so, but we’d have to speak with each guest until we find one who wants to move and then we’d have to continue contacting guests until we find one who wants to share their room. It is already too late to disturb our guests. And even if we tried, it could take quite a while until we found a compatible pairing. Plus, most of the guests might figure like you that with an infinite number of guests, some other guest might be more agreeable to moving or sharing, so why should they?”

Joseph had one last idea. “Look, with an infinite number of guests, you must have an infinite number checking out, right? Why can’t we have one of those recently vacated rooms?”

 “My apologies again, Mr. Joseph,” said the desk clerk, “but along with an infinite number of departures, we also have an infinite reservation list for those vacated rooms.”

Joseph had a sudden epiphany: that at the Infinite Inn, the desk clerk also had an infinite number of rebuttals to whatever Joseph proposed.

Sullenly, the tired and worn-down husband turned to his wife and sadly confessed, “The manger it will have to be.”

An exasperated Mary, thrilled that her husband had finally had a change of heart and had seen the light, cried “Thank God!”

“Good luck getting there,” said the desk clerk rather snappishly.

Joseph had reached the end of his rope and was spoiling for a fight. “What is that supposed to mean? The manger is just down the street from your so-called infinite establishment!”

“Yes,” admitted the clerk. “But before you reach the manger, you must first go half the distance to the manger. And before you even reach that point, you must first traverse the halfway point between here and the halfway point to the manger. And go half that distance. And half that distance. And so on and so on. Each step covering an infinitely smaller distance.

“You have quite a journey ahead of you, sir. Good luck and good night.”

However, Mary and Joseph did manage to make it to the manger, where their baby was born.

It was indeed a time for miracles.

~

Bio:

Richard Lau is an award-winning writer who has been published in newspapers, magazines, anthologies, the high-tech industry, and online.

Philosophy Note:

Can one fully grasp the concept of infinity and wield it into a practical, understandable framework? And can the same be said of God? Or are both knowingly unknowable? This piece of speculative philosophy combines perhaps the most popular Christmas story ever told with The Grand Hotel Paradox of mathematician David Hilbert, with a bonus paradox thrown in for good measure!

Combustion

by Bob Johnston

Carver hung out over thousands of meters of nothingness and suddenly realized he didn’t want this assignment. Not for all the phlogiston in the three worlds was he prepared to be dangling by a rifle strap from the weakening hand of his squad leader. And then suddenly another hand appeared out of the rolling mist to haul him back onto the narrow ledge. And even as the voice of their point man announced that the target was within reach Carver felt the purpose fill him up again, just as the bowel loosening terror subsided.

The squad continued to move round the curved wall but a sudden burst of noise told them that the target was already being restrained. As Carver stepped onto the flat platform, he could make out figures struggling in the mist. He ran forward just as the squad leader turned holding a small glowing bottle.

“Get that physicist up here, Carver.”

“Phlogiston?”

“I think so.”

The prisoner suddenly jerked and threw his captor off. In a moment he had risen and grabbed back the bottle. With a smooth spin he threw the cap off and tipped the entire contents down his throat.

Everything stopped, everyone stopped, and every man and woman adopted pretty much the same facial expression, that of a rabbit caught in headlights while picking someone’s pocket.

The prisoner turned slowly and let the empty bottle fall into the ankle-deep mist.

Finally one of the squad spoke for everyone else.  

“Oh bollocks!”

The prisoner pulled off his head-dress, eyes wild and triumphant.

“The very essence of combustion, my friends, and in moments it’s going to be all yours. Brace yourselves people, this is going to be memorable”

His belly filled with a substance stolen from a government installation and extracted from the very fires of reality, the very spaces between atoms, the very spark points that brought the universe into being. He prepared to launch the fatal counter-strike they all knew only too well.

Only for a faint, and distinctly wet, belch to replace the expected flames of creation. And the life seemed to crumple out of him as he slowly collapsed to the ground. Two troopers grabbed him while the squad leader fished about in the mist for the dropped bottle. He found it, raised it to the poor light, and then cautiously sniffed at the rim.

Then he turned to Carver.

“It’s another wrongly labelled bottle! Carver, get onto base straight away and tell them we’ve found another of the missing samples.”

Carver stood dumbly for a moment until the penny dropped and his eyes went straight back to rabbit, headlights and pickpocket wide.

“Holy Spirit?”

The squad leader just nodded and looked down at the restrained man, whose eyes were now a solid, opaque white. A gentle, unpleasant froth was oozing from his mouth.

“They’ve got an hour to get here. After that we’ll be wishing it was phlogiston he took.”

He sighed. “Holy Spirit. Damn. Why is there never a theologian when you need one?”

~

Bio:

Bob Johnston lives in Scotland where he scribbles, reads theology, and marvels at the country’s beauty when it isn’t raining, which isn’t often. He likes a good story; ancient, old, or brand new and tries to create good stories of his own.

Philosophy Note:

Despite science’s bold claims about logic and systematic thinking, most great ideas started out like most terrible ideas. In this story I describe a world where the long debunked phlogiston theory actually works, alongside other ideas, and where science and theology are parts of the same intellectual framework.