The Rashomon Effect

There is an Indian story I remember as a child. It is a story about six blind men and their quest to discover what an elephant is. Finally, they encountered an elephant on the street. The first blind man touched the elephant’s body and he exclaimed, “The elephant is like a wall.” The second man touched its ears and said, “The elephant is like a big fan.” The third got hold of the elephant’s tail and disagreed with his companions by saying, “The elephant is like a rope.” The fourth got hold of the elephant’s feet and made his own pronouncement, “The elephant is like a pillar.” The sixth held the animal’s trunk and said, “It is like a big water hose.” And the last man touched the elephant’s tusk and proclaimed, “You are all wrong. The elephant is like a spear.”

Obviously, with their limited view, the six men are right from their own vantage view yet they are also not entirely correct. But if one takes their accounts together, one gets a better picture of what an elephant is. This brings us to the title of this paper: The Rashomon Effect. Rashomon was a 1950 film by the great Japanese filmmaker Akira Kurosawa. It is a murder mystery set in 12^th century Japan. It centers on the four witnesses (the thief, the wife, the samurai and the woodcutter) giving different (even contradicting) accounts or versions on the crime that took place. Hence, from a singular event, different versions or perspectives are induced from such event. Other films (like Hero, Vantage Point and Courage Under Fire) employ the same technique. For the purpose of this paper, while there might be different accounts, these different versions, if all are taken into consideration, might give us a clearer picture of the reality that is presented. As such, every version and account matters.

For the past several weeks, each member of the class under Professor Nubiola was asked to present a paper on the different chapters of the book El taller de la filosofía. It is quite interesting to observe that while each read the same chapters, each presented or focused on different topics. And even when two members dwell on the same topic (e.g., the topic on “Order”), the way they presented their papers are quite unique and even have somewhat opposing views. While these exercises may have the primary objectives of encouraging the students to write and to apply the rudiments learned in the book in their writing, there is another important lesson which can be gleaned from these activities: Each of us has a story to tell, a unique point of view that embodies who we are. Each voice, each opinion, each perspective is important. These “subjective” truths matter. Recall the words of the poem Desiderata:  “Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.”

In writing a thesis paper one has to ask:  Why am I doing this thesis? There is a danger that one does it simply in order to get a licentiate or doctoral degree. Finish it and be done with it. Doing it simply to comply with the requirements of the university. The search for truth somehow takes a backseat. And why harbor such mentality? Perhaps one feels that others can do the searching far better as they are more qualified and have more experience in such matters. One may have the mindset that in the end one’s opinion is one among millions and that it does not really matter. So much so that submitting one’s thesis also sadly marks the end of one’s intellectual writing.

Each of us has the capacity to grasp the truth. One’s version of truth matters. It is important to have this type of mindset in writing one's thesis or any other writing that one chooses to endeavor. This same truth is not something private but has to be presented and shared to the intellectual community. In doing so, one’s version of truth becomes enriched, it is widened. Together with others, our participation somewhat lifts the shadow that sometimes obscure the path towards the truth. The lesson is this: each one of us has something to contribute, big or small, to the grand quest for truth. 

Two stonemasons were breaking rocks for the construction of a building. One is asked what he is doing and he replied somewhat annoyed, “I am breaking these big rocks into smaller ones.” The other one who is doing the same task is asked the same question. But he replied with pride, “I am building a cathedral!”

How to become Immortal

When asked what a man ought to do before he dies, José Martí, a Cuban revolutionary and poet, reportedly answered: Plant a tree, have a child and write a book. Behind this answer, of course, is the idea of leaving behind a legacy – a legacy that will endure even after our earthly life. In other words, it shows how to be immortalized after we are long gone from the face of the earth.

There are many other recourses to immortality. For example, one can be remembered in the Church by living an extraordinary saintly life. One can also be immortalized in history by doing something heroic or being a great leader. Or one can be immortalized in infamy by doing the opposite – by being evil like Hitler or Stalin or Pol Pot. But the majority of us normal/average person cannot do such things so other choices like the one suggested by José Martí that we must have becomes more viable option – un árbol, un hijo y un libro.

Un árbol. Trees can outlive us. We have seen or climbed many trees that are centuries old. One cannot help but be amazed at trees like the giant redwood trees in California that are thousand years old. So if one wants to leave a mark in this world, one can always plant a tree. It’s easy plus one contributes to the preservation of the environment. In Japan, they have a tradition of planting a tree at a birth of a child so that there is a special connection between the tree and a child as they both grow. In Jerusalem, there is a place in the holocaust memorial (Yad Vashem) honoring the “Righteous among the Nations.” These are for the non-Jews (like Oskar Schindler) who saved Jews during the Second World War at great personal risk. They are remembered by planting a tree with their name at the Garden of the Righteous. Personally, I have planted several trees. Many of which I was required to do as a school project. But seeing them now grow tall (and some bearing fruits), I get a sense of accomplishment. Yes, only God can make a tree but it’s a nice feeling to be God’s hands in planting those trees.

Un hijo. For obvious reason (being a priest), I cannot and will not accomplish this option. Interestingly, in history, we have the Persian Immortals which is an army composed of 10,000 elite forces. They are so called because for every member who dies, he was immediately replaced by a relative or kin to maintain their number.  So seemingly it is a group that cannot perish that is until they were decimated by Alexander the Great and his army. But it is true that one can live on in one’s children. Sure, there will be physical resemblances between a parent and a child but parents also pass along their character. The goodness or kindness of a parent will pass on to his/her child. People will see a good person and the first thing they deduce is that he/she must have good parents even if they do not know the parents personally or that they have been dead for a quite a while. Abraham was a father of a nation. But he is also remembered as the model of faith who is rewarded by having as one of his descendents the promised Messiah.

Un libro. The library is full of dead people. Dead people like Plato and Socrates, Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, Descartes, Hegel, Kant and Wittgenstein. But their names that are immortalized by the books they wrote. Through the pages of their books, they speak, they breathe, they argue, they live. They are giants on whose shoulders we stand to reach new heights in our knowledge and ultimately in our evolution as better human beings. In writing a book, one lives on in the pages he/she wrote. Yet but this must not be the sole motive in writing. One writes in order to contribute for the betterment of humanity. As such, one is remembered, one is immortalized for this contribution. This is much better than just having a name marking one’s grave.

A tree, a child and a book. Hopefully, I can accomplish two out of three. 

Learning to Write Well

The second chapter entitled Aprender a escribir in Jaime Nubiola’s book El taller de la filosofía offers great practical tips on how to put into writing those precious thoughts that come to us. But again, like the first chapter, it has brought me to reflect (another examination of intellectual conscience) on how I write.

The first point of my reflection is something basic: penmanship. We learn at an early age the fundamentals on how to write our ABCs. I remember the sense of triumph of learning how to write my name and finishing first in my class in writing it. Of course, having only three letters for my name helps with the speed. But if there is one thing I am ashamed of myself, it is my bad penmanship. It is a constant cause for embarrassment and ridicule. I sometimes joke around this impediment by telling people that my writing is in Greek or Sanskrit or ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. It also exasperated a number of my teachers in the past leading one to say to me indirectly, “A bad penmanship is a sign of illiteracy.” Of course I would try to justify that a number of great scholars have bad penmanship. Take for example, the great St. Thomas Aquinas who wrote Latin with a littera inintelligibilis, an “unintelligible lettering”:

Of course, St. Thomas was a genius. His thoughts were so fast that his writing cannot keep up with it. So citing him is not a very good excuse for bad handwriting. But my point is that a writer should write legibly. How can he transmit his great ideas if people cannot even read what he writes? Yes, the advent of computers is a gift from God. With these machines, not only can one have a clear and clean writing but also one can choose from hundreds of fonts and sizes in which manner to write. But the easiest way to write is still through a pen and a paper. There is something personal about it and while a computer facilitates one’s writing, there is a certain detachment when one just simply press buttons on a machine. Also, great ideas come and go streaming in our thoughts sometimes in rapid succession. And there is a danger of losing these precious ideas if we do not put them into writing. So a pen and a piece of paper must always be at hand . . . plus a good penmanship. Having a good penmanship is in itself an inspiration for one to write more.

The second thought that came to me is KISS. Before one gets any wrong idea, let me explain that I have not written that many articles or any books for that matter but I did deliver hundreds of homilies to a vast array of audience. And one element in preaching is how to connect with one’s listener. In the case of writing, the question would be how to connect with one’s reader. My teacher in homiletics gave me this helpful advice: KISS (Keep It Short and Simple). One classmate even told me that a homily should be like a woman’s skirt – long enough to cover the essential but short enough to be interesting. But underlying this advice is the insistence on clarity and conciseness. Our thoughts should be delivered with a certain clarity that the listener (or reader) can understand. There is no point of embellishing our words when the audience cannot comprehend them. We might be interpreted as simply grandstanding. Brevity or conciseness with our words now becomes a necessity in an age when a great majority of the people has a short attention span. Also, there is a limit to what the people can remember. What is the point of putting across great multitude of thoughts and ideas if in the end the people can’t remember anything what you said or written. We must learn to limit what we are to say or write, not simply for our sake but mainly for the sake of our audience/readers.

Finally, like the art of delivering a homily, the art of writing is a trial and error process. Sometimes there are more failures than success in learning to master it. That is why there is a need for practice, practice and more practice. One can only hope to improve in time by experience. I do not know all the techniques on how to become a successful writer but one thing I know is that the surest way to fail is by not trying to write anything at all. 

Alongside the Giants

It was a hot afternoon 17 years ago. The class was restless and bored and waiting for the final ticks of the clock to signal their dismissal. The professor asked a question, I raised my hand. I recited with what I thought was something original and was rather pleased with my answer. But then the professor asked me rather sarcastically, “Are you trying to invent a new philosophy?” 

It was meant as a rebuke and I sat down immediately, shamefaced. As a student of philosophy, I was not encouraged to give my opinion. I was thought to read and learn the details of various fields of philosophy and about the lives and works of various philosophers. There were standard definitions and facts to memorize. Never mind if I understood them or what I thought about them as long as I remain orthodox and later on graduate with a degree in philosophy and I was off to theology and the priesthood. 

We consider the great philosophers as giants and I was not simply a dwarf standing on their shoulders, I was a speck of dust. I learn about their teachings and if I want an opinion, I read other authors’ books narrating their opinion about them. Forming a personal opinion should be left in the privacy of one’s thoughts. It is no wonder then that most of our theses had the words “in the light of the thoughts of” this and that philosophers. One does not dare to veer off from their thoughts. I was not thought to philosophize, I was thought to learn facts about philosophy. Why should I reflect on these great philosophers’ thoughts when I can read other authors with PhDs reflect upon them? Or so I thought.

As I was reading the first chapter of the book El Taller de la Filosofía by Jaime Nubiola (or at least I tried to read it with my stunted Spanish), I came face to face with my failings as a student of philosophy. It was not an “eezy reeding” (easy reading) as one Spanish student told me as the book became for me an occasion of examination of conscience, well, an examination of my intellectual conscience. And there was a lot of mea culpa on my part. 

“Learn to see (aprender a mirar, p. 21).” For someone who depends on other philosophers’ view on reality as a guide, this is a real eye-opener. How can I be independent in my thoughts? Do I dare to see reality with my own intellectual insights? Wittgenstein said that the task of philosophy is “to show the fly out of the bottle.” The great philosophers can only show me the path towards wisdom and not a give me a step-by-step-on-how-to-achieve-enlightenment brochure. I should learn to walk the path shown. 

The book tells us that intellectual life is not simply a possession of data but a search for truth and a love of wisdom. Again, my conscience tells me that I am guilty of transgression. I have not search for the truth, let other philosophers do that. And since my philosophical formation involved tedious memorization, there no great love for wisdom but simply a boring and arduous task. Mea culpa. 

The book mentions about “paralysis by analysis”. How many times have I scoured various books for a certain theme and ending up not achieving anything because there is a nagging feeling that maybe another author have other opinions. So the search goes on ad on. In the end, too many opinions left me “paralyzed” with my work. It could have been easier if I read 3 or so books and then form my own opinion. Mea culpa. 

The book mentions about discipline and creativity. I have no doubt about my creativity. The problem is discipline. I cannot help but admire Kant on his consistency and discipline which led him to author voluminous great works. I find it hard to finish a 5-page paperwork. There are too many distractions and unbounded imaginations and daydreaming. I often find myself reading a book in the library but my mind is elsewhere – in the Philippines. There is a need to tame one’s imagination and fortify one’s will. I must learn to focus on the task at hand. One must have interior discipline and peace to philosophize. Mea maxima culpa. 

A philosopher is one who philosophize and not one who just parrots the thoughts of the great thinkers. Yes, these philosophers are giants and I am grateful that I can stand on their shoulders to see the reality they see and bask in the wisdom and truth they have fathomed. But hopefully I can also learn to walk alongside these giants and not simply be content on standing on their shoulders.