The White Horse

An ancient Chinese philosopher, Kung-Sun Lung, once said, ‘a white horse is not a horse.’ Now I don’t know if this was simply a one-off mysterious statement by Kung-Sun, or if he was in the habit of saying such things on a regular basis. And likewise, I don’t know how it was received by his contemporaries – whether he was regarded as a sage or as something of a fruitcake. But I want to unpack the saying a bit, because – whilst it may appear, at first, inconsequential – in fact it strikes a devastating blow to Western philosophy, science and religion. How so? you may wonder. Well, here’s how. At first strike, Kung-Sun might simply have meant that there are no truly white horses. Of course, this is surely true. But the real explanation – and true power – of the statement lies a little deeper. Take that word ‘white’. This is what we describe as a ‘universal’. A universal is not a mysterious thing – at least in theory. Adjectives – like ‘white’ here, in ‘the white horse’ – are universals. They are handy descriptions – in this case, for things that are more or less white. Things that could not, at least, be described as cream or grey or yellow. So universals are useful at grouping together similar things under one description. And, generally speaking, there’s no problem. Unless, of course, we stopped to ask what exactly does white mean? This is similar to the superficial reading of Kung-Sun’s saying. For instance, is white just the absence of colour? Is black just the absence of light? Or are there more specific ways of describing things? No horse is ever absolutely white – even if we could describe exactly what the word ‘white’ means – so no universal is truly accurate. Universals are just handy approximations. If only we could have stopped there, in the West! But no. Universals took on a ghostly life of their own. In fact, not just a ghostly life. Universals became THE TRUE WORLD and it was our own familiar everyday world that became the ghost. So then, there are perfect forms of things – white things, horses – and then there are the shoddy earthly representations of these – horses that aren’t quite white! And there is our PERFECT SOUL and our shoddy and confused REAL SELVES! And there is a PERFECT HEAVEN and the unfortunate, messy and distasteful real world that we are forced to inhabit. This was the upshot of taking a ‘WHITE HORSE’ to mean more than it is really saying. That’s what Kung-Sun was really warning us against – perhaps centuries before it had even started to become a problem in the West. We even do something similar with the concept of truth. To see what I mean, think of the concept of existence first. When we speak of something we normally do not add that the something also happens to exist. For instance, we do not say, ‘there is a white horse and the horse also exists’. Rather than making us more sure about something’s existence, this would tend to make us wonder why there’s a need for the reassurance of the thing’s existence. In similar vein, there is something in philosophy known as the deflationary theory of truth. ‘Ducks quack’ is the example often given. This might appear trivial, but it’s trying to tell us something. As with existence, there is no need to say – in the duck example – that the fact of ducks quacking is also true. And again, to do so would be to cast doubt on truth rather than add any assurance. The deflationary theory is telling us that there’s no PERFECT WORLD OF TRUTH – no TRUTH HQ – where all facts reside. So this is yet another example of what Kung-Sun was trying to tell us. We sort of know that there’s no Truth HQ, but then we sort of still hope that there is. If only, somehow, Kung-Sun’s message had reached us. We’d have been saved from a lot of bother that splitting up the world has caused us. But – you may be thinking, dear reader – surely things have moved on? Surely science takes a much more matter-of-fact view of reality nowadays? Surely there’s no more talk of these worlds of perfect forms? Well, I’d have to say, NOT SO! Because, although we might profess to some kind of scrupulously empirical way of understanding the world and some kind of pragmatic way of applying our knowledge, nonetheless there is still that hankering after perfect worlds. That’s what the search for a ‘theory of everything’ is really about. Something – mathematics? geometry? consciousness? – something, it is still believed, lies behind our everyday experience. And that something is more pure and perfect than the tangled mess that is our normal experience. I am not saying that this search is entirely useless. No-one could ever claim that there is NOT, in fact, some kind of underlying perfect order to the universe. It’s not the idea that there is perfection that is truly dangerous, it’s the idea that there is a split. So either the world is messy and incoherent and contingent all the way through, or it’s a mixture of perfection and imperfection. Both these options are what the Western mind has trained itself to find intolerable. Perfection must always be in a SEPARATE world. There are a few caveats however. What of religion, we could ask? Is the real heaven the reality that lies behind humanity’s misguided yearnings for perfection? Well, all I can say here is that contemplating heaven quickly leads to paradox, if not contradiction. Religion must try to resolve this somehow – our minds not adequate for taking in the grandeur of heaven, for instance? Whether these explanations are ever sufficient depends, of course, on your faith, or lack thereof. Christianity has, I think, one clear advantage over other belief systems in this regard. It seems to be able to embrace both transcendence and immanence. Not quite the mixture of perfection and imperfection alluded to above perhaps (most Christians, for instance, regard Christ as perfect) but at least an acknowledgement that there is value in both. But again, for the most part, it seems believers themselves are not that comfortable with this – focusing rather on the transcendent as the immeasurably superior reality. It would be good, I feel, if the problems thrown up by trying to reconcile a perfect heaven with a messy Earth were NOT resolved. It would be good if religion instead explored the hinterland between the two. But – rather like the philosopher and the scientist – the religious usually find this intolerable. The religiously-inclined usually want firm beliefs to which they can pin their faith and hope. The other caveat I’d suggest is to say – okay, so maybe there is not some other-wordily perfection that is eluding us, but isn’t it at least worthwhile striving for some kind of perfection? Isn’t this, at the very least, going to make the world better? Utopia, however, suffers from similar problems to heaven. Won’t perfection just seem intolerable after a while? (And, of course, one person’s perfection is already another’s nightmare!) To some extent I’d agree with the notion that aiming for, or trying to envisage, perfection can be a worthwhile exercise. But the whole point of it – I’d hazard to suggest – is that it is always a moveable feast at which we aim. As such, it is always a conversation rather than a manifesto, a constitution, a manual or a dogma. To be frank, I think we all kind of know this already. It’s just that we mostly hate moveable feasts and conversations! WE WANT THE TRUTH AND WE WANT IT NOW! We see white horses and wish for them to be real.