I’ve become rather obsessed with
death recently. Not quite as a morbid musing, nor a lamenting reflection but
more as a transcendental state; that is a threshold which recognises no division
between truth and its allegorical transcriptions in the realm of perception.
That primordial drive of eternal return, to recognise the self in relation to
the seemingly inanimate and to strike forth into the darkness in as every bit
of freedom as a corpse. This sentiment is more or less present in most
pre-modern cultures, but I’d like to draw attention to two particular cases;
that of the Bushi warrior aristocracy of Japan and the deathly aesthetic
present in Shia Islamic ethics. In the Hagakure (In the shadow of leaves),
the classical of the Japanese warrior classes written by Yamamoto Tsunetomo, Samurai
retainer turned Buddhist Monk; the freedom in death is stressed in the first
chapter.
“If by setting ones heart right every morning and evening, one is able to
live as though his body is already dead, he gains freedom in the way. His whole
life will be without blame and he will succeed in his calling”
Yet far from constituting a
rejection of life; or a license for the glorification of misery, murder and
morbidity, the deathly aesthetic is nothing more than the unification of the
scattered relics of practical existence and the reorientation towards an authentic
state. Tsunetomo explains;
“We all want to live. And in large part we make our logic according to what
we like. But not having attained our aim and continuing to live is cowardice.
This is a thing dangerous line”
The way
as death, or the affirmation of life?
An interesting method in which to
interpret this seemingly nihilistic statement is perhaps in contrast to
Nietzsche’s appeal to noble ethics as life affirming as opposed to the tempting
solace found within medieval Christian values. The comparison is problematic
given the formers explicit embracing of death and Nietzsche’s hatred of the
idealised aesthetic but in negating the materially defined opposition between
life and death, the two espouse a similar set of ideals. Nietzsche of course
took issue with the slave ethic at the heart of western moralities obsessive
need to relegate the cause of suffering to the sufferer himself. The process in
which the individuals will is perverted into a regressive, self hating paradigm
is in itself a great act of will, or as Tsunetomo might have put it “making our
logic according to what we like”. Tsunemtomo’s “frivolous sophisticates” who
dream up excuses for cowardice and Nietzsche’s priestly class who champion a
perverted order may be seen as one in the same.
“One must pay dearly for immortality; one has to die several times
while still alive”
That isn’t to say however, that the
Bushi conception of death is identical to the Greek-rooted idealised
affirmation of life. The two are qualitatively separate, although both noble in
character. The Bushi not only transcends the immediacy of his material
existence in the embracing of a warrior morality but forcibly reorganises his
existence towards an unknowable horizon rather than a philosophical ideal.
“A real man does not think of victory or defeat. He plunges recklessly
towards an irrational death. By doing this, you will awaken from your dreams”
I feel the Japanese gentlemanly
ideal is in stark contrast to the western, not in the same sense as classical
nobility is to secular mysticism but in its anti-philosophical outlook; and the
rejection of binary oppositions, empirical reasoning or even the closest
western equivalent of chivalric sentiments. Is there perhaps a middle ground
between the Greek and Japanese tradition? I believe there is, and that it is
most visible within the ethical discourse and Gnostic philosophy espoused by
the first Shi’ite Imam, Ali Ibn Talib, which reflect both pre-Islamic notions
of Futuwwa (chivalry) and a philosophical disposition towards a deathly
aesthetic.
Imam
Ali's deathly aesthetic
“Death is more intimate to me than the breast of a mother is to a suckling
babe” Imam Ali
I’ve written before on Imam Ali’s
philosophy in my Gothic-Ghulat manifesto, and so in the interest of not
repeating myself, I’ll briefly summarise the interpretations behind these
aesthetic sentiments. The death in this sense, is more explicitly esoteric and
has more in conjunction with the Sufi ideal of self obliteration “Al Fana fi
Ilah” (extinction in the divine), than the seemingly Bushi conception of death
as utterly irrational but necessarily threshold. The two, however are relatable
in their rejection of the unauthentic, whether the frivolous concern of the
“sophisticate”, or the egotistical attachment to the world and the enslavement
of the soul to realm of immediate perception. In Shia theology, there is a
prevalent motif which states the believer must die before his death, to walk
with one foot firmly in the grave thus partially awakening the sleeping
divinity within ones Nafs (soul).
“The world is an abode for which annihilation is ordained, and for its
people departure from it is decreed”
Both discourses are concerned with
the awakening of the soul, the setting sites on the horizon of death and in
kierkegaardian terms, the recognition of the wholeness of existence in this
mortal boundary. Imam Ali’s philosophical orientation towards death had much to
do with his very classically Gnostic adoration of the universal intellect as
the initial cosmic principle. This should not, however be understood in the
post enlightenment sense of the intellect as the capability to logically deduce
the real from sensory perception alone. Rather it was more in harmony with the
Greek intellectus, which implies the capability to directly contemplate
transcendental realities. Thus, the universal intellect is tied to the
conception of the soul, which can become a battleground in the struggle towards
the total orientation towards the real.
“The ultimate battle is that of a man against his own soul,
He who knows his soul, fights it”
This is remarkably similar to
the Bushi ideal of true victory as the victory over the self. Indeed, both the
Bushi ideal and the teachings of the Imam stress kindness, restraint, mercy and
good character but not for their own sake. Such actions are not of the altruism
that the likes of Nietzsche despised, but a strict adherence to the tracedental
real. This brings me to the point of this essay, to ascertain whether these
values, of the warrior aristocracy are of any use in today’s world.
There is little doubt that the
modern world exists within the shadow of Kant. A messianic imperative to bring
the world under a certain uniformity, one which upholds positivist logic. The
needs to eliminate other alternatives to this vision lie at the heart of Kant’s
perpetual peace theory. His successors, particularly John Rawls went on to have
significant philosophical influence on American foreign policy, one that has
been particularly damaging. This imperative triggers a neurotic need to crusade
in the name of the ethics of pity; an unyielding adherence to the consciousness
of the masses, and the establishment of eternal truths as justification for
these actions. The sovereignty of man is abandoned as are noble ethics in
favour of a moral fanaticism. The Bushi code acts as a check against this
deontological principle;
“To think that being righteous is the best one can do and to do one’s utmost
to be righteous will, on the contrary, bring many mistakes. The way is in a
higher place than righteousness.”
Kant’s
vision of perpetual peace, is a kind of Imperial morality in its totality, the
obsessive need to reconstitute its broken core in the unification of its
peripheral extremities, and the relegation of the noble individual to a mere
recipient of reason. Nowhere in the aristocratic ideals of the Bushi or the
Gnostic chivalry of the Imam can there exist a concept which rejects the
sovereignty of man, or regulate a warrior to the realm of the homo sacer.
Indeed, a noble ethics requires the seeking out of similar
characteristics in the enemy, necessitating a respect unheard of in modern
times.
“The knight of knowledge must be able not only to love his enemies, but also
to hate his friends”
Returning to the theme of Gnostic
chivalry, we see that Imam Ali was one known for his harshness towards his
closest allies and respect towards his enemies, a characteristic which
eventually cost him his life. At the battle of Siffin during the first Islamic
civil war, the forces of Ali had largely overwhelmed the opposing forces led by
Muawiyah who had rebelled against Ali’s appointment as Caliph following the
murder of the third Caliph, Uthman. The conflict itself had it's origins in the divide between an practically minded Imperialising tendency championed by the pre-Islamic Arab old guard and the belief that the Caliphate must revert to a spiritual order given the non-Arab mawali converts to the religion. Muawiyah had built a support base in Syria and with their backing, refused to give the baya (oath of loyalty) to the new Caliph, forcing Ali into a military confrontation. On the eve of victory, however, Ali’s
forces broke off their attack when Muawiyah ordered his troops to hoist
Qur’an’s on spears with the message “Let god decide”. Despite personal reservations, Ali agreed to withdraw his forces and enter into negotiations, expecting his opponent to return the honourable gesture as was common in pre-Islamic warfare. Ali’s gallantry had not
only spared the opposing force, but by recognising the autonomy of the Syrian
elite severely hindered his ability to rule undisputed and without further
incident. As we have seen though, Ali's philosophy was based on a noble ethics, guided by transcendental principles as opposed to lust for immediate material gains.
This is perhaps the ethics that should be of value today; those decisively irrational, recognising the sovereignty in the enemy and fixated upon the unknowable horizon. As opposed to the Imperial philosophy of Kant, in it's totality and uniformity, a feudal or pre-Imperial ethic could be considered. An individualist path which stresses the romantic roots of the warrior aristocracy as a will to power in it's own right while at the same time, recognising the chivalrous potential not in the sense of righteousness for it's own sake, or in service of a ethics of pity but in eternal awareness of the boundless vision.
