The islanders

This story I first saw in one of idries shahs books, it is an interesting allegory and more…

The Islanders(Idries Shah)

Once upon a time there lived an ideal community in a far-off
land. Its members had no fears as we now know them. Instead of
uncertainty and vacillation, they had purposefulness and a fuller
means of expressing themselves. Although there were none of the
stresses and tensions which mankind now considers essential to
its progress, their lives were richer, because other, better
elements replaced these things. Theirs, therefore, was a slightly
different mode of existence. We could almost say that our present
perceptions are a crude, makeshift version of the real ones that
this community possessed.

They had real lives, not semilives.

We can call them the El Ar people.

They had a leader, who discovered that their country was to
become uninhabitable for a period of, shall we say, 20,000 years.
He planned their escape, realizing that their descendants would
be able to return home successfully, only after many trials.

He found for them a place of refuge, an island whose features
were only roughly similar to those of the original homeland.
Because of the difference in climate and situation, the
immigrants had to undergo a transformation. This made them more
physically and mentally adapted to the new circumstances; coarse
perceptions, for instance, were substituted for finer ones, as
when the hand of the manual laborer becomes toughened in response
to the needs of his calling.

In order to reduce the pain which a comparison between the
old and new states would bring, they were made to forget the past
almost entirely. Only the most shadowy recollection of it
remained, yet it was sufficient to be awakened when the time
came.

The system was very complicated, but well arranged. The
organs by means of which the people survived on the island were
also made the organs of enjoyment, physical and mental. The
organs which were really constructive in the old homeland were
placed in a special form of abeyance, and linked with the shadowy
memory, in preparation for its eventual activation.

Slowly and painfully the immigrants settled down, adjusting
themselves to the local conditions. The resources of the island
were such that, coupled with effort and a certain form of
guidance, people would be able to escape to a further island on
the way back to their original home. This was the first of a
succession of islands upon which gradual acclimatization took
place.

The responsibility of this “evolution” was vested in those
individuals who could sustain it. These were necessarily only a
few, because for the mass of the people the effort of keeping
both sets of knowledge in their consciousness was virtually
impossible. One of them seemed to conflict with the other one.
Certain specialists guarded the “special science.”

This “secret,” the method of effecting the transition, was
nothing more or less than the knowledge of maritime skills and
their application. The escape needed an instructor, raw
materials, people, effort and understanding. Given these, people
could learn to swim, and also to build ships.

The people who were originally in charge of the escape
operations made it clear to everyone that a certain preparation
was necessary before anyone could learn to swim or even take part
in building a ship. For a time the process continued
satisfactorily.

Then a man who had been found, for the time being, lacking in
the necessary qualities rebelled against this order and managed
to develop a masterly idea. He had observed that the effort to
escape placed a heavy and often seemingly unwelcome burden upon
the people. At the same time they were disposed to believe things
which they were told about the escape operation. He realized that
he could acquire power, and also revenge himself upon those who
had undervalued him, as he thought, by a simple exploitation of
these two sets of facts.

He would merely offer to take away the burden, by affirming
that there was no burden.

He made this announcement:

“There is no need for man to integrate his mind and train it
in the way which has been described to you. The human mind is
already a stable and continuous, consistent thing. You have been
told that you have to become a craftsman in order to build a
ship. I say, not only do you not need to be a craftsmanÑyou do
not need a ship at all! An islander needs only to observe a few
simple rules to survive and remain integrated into society. By
the exercise of common sense, born into everyone, he can attain
anything upon this island, our home, the common property and
heritage of all.”

The tonguester, having gained a great deal of interest among
the people, now “proved” his message by saying:

“If there is any reality in ships and swimming, show us ships
which have made the journey, and swimmers who have come back!”

This was a challenge to the instructors which they could not
meet. It was based upon an assumption of which the bemused herd
could not now see the fallacy. You see, ships never returned from
the other land. Swimmers, when they did come back, had undergone
a fresh adaptation which made them invisible to the crowd.

The mob pressed for demonstrative proof.

“Shipbuilding,” said the escapers, in an attempt to reason
with the revolt, “is an art and a craft. The learning and the
exercise of this lore depends upon special techniques. These
together make up a total activity, which cannot be examined
piecemeal, as you demand. This activity has an impalpable
element, called baraka, from which the word ‘barque’Ña shipÑis
derived. This word means ‘the Subtlety,’ and it cannot be shown
to you.”

“Art, craft, total, baraka, nonsense!” shouted the
revolutionaries.

And so they hanged as many shipbuilding craftsmen as they
could find.

The new gospel was welcomed on all sides as one of
liberation. Man had discovered that he was already mature! He
felt, for the time at least, as if he had been released from
responsibility.

Most other ways of thinking were soon swamped by the
simplicity and comfort of the revolutionary concept. Soon it was
considered to be a basic fact, which had never been challenged by
any rational person. Rational, of course, meant anyone who
harmonized with the general theory itself, upon which society was
now based.

Ideas which opposed the new one were easily called
irrational. Anything irrational was bad. Thereafter, even if he
had doubts, the individual had to suppress them or divert them,
because he must at all costs be thought rational.

It was not very difficult to be rational. One had only to
adhere to the values of society. Further, evidence of the truth
of rationality aboundedÑproviding that one did not think beyond
the life of the island.

Society had now temporarily equilibrated itself within the
island, and seemed to provide a plausible completeness, if viewed
by means of itself. It was based upon reason plus emotion, making
both seem plausible. Cannibalism, for instance, was permitted on
rational grounds. The human body was found to be edible.
Edibility was a characteristic of food. Therefore the human body
was food. In order to compensate for the shortcomings of this
reasoning, a makeshift was arranged. Cannibalism was controlled,
in the interests of society. Compromise was the trademark of
temporary balance. Every now and again someone pointed out a new
compromise, and the struggle between reason, ambition, and
community produced some fresh social norm.

Since the skills of boatbuilding had no obvious application
within this society, the effort could easily be considered
absurd. Boats were not neededÑthere was nowhere to go. The
consequences of certain assumptions can be made to “prove” those
assumptions. This is what is called pseudocertainty, the
substitute for real certainty. It is what we deal in every day,
when we assume that we will live another day. But our islanders
applied it to everything.

The words “displeasing” and “unpleasant” were used on the
island to indicate anything which conflicted with the new gospel,
which was itself known as “Please.” The idea behind this was that
people would now please themselves, within the general need to
please the State. The State was taken to mean all the people.

It is hardly surprising that from quite early times the very
thought of leaving the island filled most people with terror.
Similariy, very real fear is to be seen in long-term prisoners
who are about to be released. “Outside” the place of captivity is
a vague, unknown, threatening world.

The island was not a prison. But it was a cage with invisible
bars, more effective than obvious ones ever could be.

The insular society became more and more complex, and we can
look at only a few of its outstanding features. Its literature
was a rich one. In addition to cultural compositions, there were
numerous books which explained the values and achievements of the
nation. There was also a system of allegorical fiction, which
portrayed how terrible life might have been, had society not
arranged itself in the present reassuring pattern.

From time to time instructors tried to help the whole
community to escape. Captains sacrificed themselves for the
reestablishment of a climate in which the now concealed
shipbuilders could continue their work. All these efforts were
interpreted by historians and sociologists with reference to
conditions on the island, without thought for any contact outside
this closed society. Plausible explanations of almost anything
were comparatively easy to produce. No principle of ethics was
involved, because scholars continued to study with genuine
dedication what seemed to be true. “What more can we do?” they
asked, implying by the word “more” that the alternative might be
an effort of quantity. Or they asked each other, “What else can
we do?” assuming that the answer might be “else”Ñsomething
different. Their real problem was that they assumed themselves
able to formulate the questions, and ignored the fact that the
questions were every bit as important as the answers.

Of course the islanders had plenty of scope for thought and
action within their own small domain. The variations of ideas and
differences of opinion gave the impression of freedom of thought.
Thought was encouraged, providing that it was not “absurd.”

Freedom of speech was allowed. It was of little use without
the development of understanding, which was not pursued.

The work and the emphasis of the navigators had to take on
different aspects in accordance with the changes in the
community. This made their reality even more baffling to the
students who tried to follow them from the island point of view.

Amid all the confusion, even the capacity to remember the
possibility of escape could at times become an obstacle. The
stirring consciousness of escape potential was not very
discriminating. More often than not the eager would-be escapers
settled for any kind of substitute. A vague concept of navigation
cannot become useful without orientation. Even the most eager
potential shipbuilders had been trained to believe that they
already had that orientation. They were already mature. They
hated anyone who pointed out that they might need a preparation.

Bizarre versions of swimming or shipbuilding often crowded
out possibilities of real progress. Very much to blame were the
advocates of pseudoswimming or allegorical ships, mere hucksters,
who offered lessons to those as yet too weak to swim, or passages
on ships which they could not build.

The needs of the society had originally made necessary
certain forms of efficiency and thinking which developed into
what was known as science. This admirable approach, so essential
in the fields where it had an application, finally outran its
real meaning. The approach called “scientific,” soon after the
“Please” revolution, became stretched until it covered all manner
of ideas. Eventually things which could not be brought within its
bounds became known as “unscientific,” another convenient synonym
for “bad.” Words were unknowingly taken prisoner and then
automatically enslaved.

In the absence of a suitable attitude, like people who,
thrown upon their own resources in a waiting room, feverishly
read magazines, the islanders absorbed themselves in finding
substitutes for the fulfillment which was the original (and
indeed the final) purpose of this community’s exile.

Some were able to divert their attention more or less
successfully into mainly emotional commitments. There were
different ranges of emotion, but no adequate scale for measuring
them. All emotion was considered to be “deep” or “profound”Ñat
any rate more profound than nonemotion. Emotion, which was seen
to move people to the most extreme physical and mental acts
known, was automatically termed “deep.”

The majority of people set themselves targets, or allowed
others to set them for them. They might pursue one cult after
another, or money, or social prominence. Some worshipped some
things and felt themselves superior to all the rest. Some, by
repudiating what they thought worship was, thought that they had
no idols, and could therefore safely sneer at all the rest.

As the centuries passed, the island was littered with the
debris of these cults. Worse than ordinary debris, it was
self-perpetuating. Well-meaning and other people combined the
cults and recombined them, and they spread anew. For the amateur
and intellectual, this constituted a mine of academic or
“initiatory” material, giving a comforting sense of variety.
Magnificent facilities for the indulging of limited
“satisfactions” proliferated. Palaces and monuments, museums and
universities, institutes of learning, theaters and sports
stadiums almost filled the island. The people naturally prided
themselves on these endowments, many of which they considered to
be linked in a general way with ultimate truth, though exactly
how this was so escaped almost all of them.

Shipbuilding was connected with some dimensions of this
activity, but in a way unknown to almost everyone.

Clandestinely the ships raised their sails, the swimmers
continued to teach swimming. . . .

The conditions on the island did not entirely fill these
dedicated people with dismay. After all, they too had originated
in the very same community, and had indissoluble bonds with it,
and with its destiny.

But they very often had to preserve themselves from the
attentions of their fellow citizens. Some “normal” islanders
tried to save them from themselves. Others tried to kill them,
for an equally sublime reason. Some even sought their help
eagerly, but could not find them.

All these reactions to the existence of the swimmers were the
result of the same cause, filtered through different kinds of
minds. This cause was that hardly anyone now knew what a swimmer
really was, what he was doing, or where he could be found.

As the life of the island became more and more civilized, a
strange but logical industry grew up. It was devoted to ascribing
doubts to the validity of the system under which society lived.
It succeeded in absorbing doubts about social values by laughing
at them or satirizing them. The activity could wear a sad or
happy face, but it really became a repetitious ritual. A
potentially valuable industry, it was often prevented from
exercising its really creative function.

People felt that, having allowed their doubts to have
temporary expression, they would in some way assuage them,
exorcise them, almost propitiate them. Satire passed for
meaningful allegory; allegory was accepted but not digested.
Plays, books, films, poems, lampoons were the usual media for
this development, though there was a strong section of it in more
academic fields. For many islanders it seemed more emancipated,
more modern or progressive, to follow this cult rather than older
ones.

Here and there a candidate still represented himself to a
swimming instructor, to make his bargain. Usually what amounted
to a stereotyped conversation took place.

“I want to learn to swim.”

“Do you want to make a bargain about it?”

“No. I only have to take my ton of cabbage.”

“What cabbage?”

“The food which I will need on the other island.”

“There is better food there.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I cannot be sure. I must take my
cabbage.”

“You cannot swim, for one thing, with a ton of cabbage.”

“Then I cannot go. You call it a load. I call it my essential
nutrition.”

“Suppose, as an allegory, we say not ‘cabbage’ but
‘assumptions,’ or ‘destructive ideas’?”

“I am going to take my cabbage to some instructor who
understands my needs.”

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5. The responsibility is ours.

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