45. The Real World

I looked across at Netto as he sat calmly behind his desk.

“Father Netto, I find this a little confusing. Are you saying that providing the Village with a purpose was worth the lives of those who died in the fire? Didn’t the fire do real damage to the village by destroying our prosperity and by talking away our access to our plantations?”

“I want you to look at this table.” Netto answered and, obediently, I looked down at his desk.

“Observe,” he continued, “how it is assembled from different pieces of wood. Each of them is cut to a particular shape. There are legs that support it from the floor, there is a broad flat top and there are cross pieces cut into the sides of the legs to keep the whole thing firm and stable.

Now think about how a table is made. The table does not just happen by chance. No. The carpenter starts with an idea of the table. He knows before he begins what shape it has to be, that it must be flat and steady, what height and so on.

He goes out on purpose and selects wood of the right size and shape and he cuts it so that he can fit it together. If you see him cutting the wood, you might think that he is destroying it if you don’t know what he has in mind; if you don’t understand the idea that is the cause of the table.

The same applies to the Village. The Village did not grow up by chance. How could it, with all of the roads joining up so that you can walk from one end to the other. The Village existed, in every detail in Our Granny’s mind and purpose before even one house was built. That is the only way in which the Village was possible, with its fertile fields, with the Tractor given to help to feed us all.

But over the years, our people had lost sight of Our Granny’s plan. They had begun to take their prosperity for granted so that they thought that it was because of their own efforts that they lived well. They saw the food produced by the Tractor and they thought that it was the Tractor that fed them. They saw the Guardians who served the Tractor and they forgot that the Tractor was the gift of Our Granny and the Guardians simply its servants, appointed by Her.

As they became absorbed in their own lives, the life of the Village, as a whole, suffered. The tithes and offerings to Our Granny were sometimes forgotten, or the offerings were not of the best. The Gardeners would receive fruit and within a couple of days it was rotten and black. A basket that seemed to be filled with fine grain would turn out to have mildewed corn at the bottom.

The Village may have seemed prosperous but, underneath, Our Granny’s Plan for it was in danger. The warnings of those who saw what was happening went unheeded. There were calls for an attack on her enemies, for confrontation with Hama Batu and the Shadows, but they went unanswered. It was easier to pretend that the threats did not exist. The carpenters lacked the will to make the painful cuts necessary for the construction of a good table.

What the Fire did was to show the truth of the matter, to show that it was necessary to take those painful decisions and to return to Our Granny’s Idea of the Village. And, thankfully, Our Granny’s Gardeners were ready to take those decisions. They were at last able to deploy the Guardians to search out those who did not accept Her plan for the Village, those who were trying to tear down its fabric.”

I looked at Netto in surprise. I am not sure how I had expected him to respond but I had not thought about the war in this way before and I struggled to grasp what he meant.

“But how could Our Granny, a woman born in the forest, know how the Village would be laid out, where the houses would be, before she even started its creation?” I asked.

“Yes,” Netto replied, “Another excellent question, Tommu. I must compliment you. You go to the heart of the matter.

We’ve just talked about the table and we agreed, did we not, that the table was a reflection of the carpenter’s idea of what a table should be. This table that we see is a copy of that idea and the carpenter may well have made other tables before this one and he probably made others afterwards as well. The real table is the idea in his mind of what a table is. The idea in his mind is the ideal to which these physical tables aspire, isn’t it. The table in his mind does not have the scratches made accidentally as he cut the top or the gaps where the joints don’t quite meet, does it? His idea of the table is the perfect one.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “This table might break if a really heavy object were to fall on it. The carpenter did not have the materials to make a table as strong as he would have liked.”

“Now, ask yourself, Tommu,” Netto went on, “Where Our Granny came from.

Our Granny is a person. Much more complex than a table and so the idea from which Our Granny derives, would have to be much more complex than the idea of a table. The idea of Our Granny, however, is not limited by the fact that she happens to have been born in the forest. The ideal Granny is all wise and all knowing. She has all the knowledge she needs to create the Village. The ideal Granny does not get old and feeble, or forget who people are, or have difficulty sleeping. She is able to care for the island and its Village and to guide it.”

“But does such a perfect Granny exist?” I looked at Netto in wonder. “It seems improbable.”

“Not when you think carefully about it.” He responded, “If you consider the idea of a perfect Granny, what would she be like?”

“Well,” I thought for a moment, “I suppose that she would be wise and kind, and, as you say, she would not get old and feeble, and she would know what was good for the Village. It would take some time, but I’m sure that I could think of quite a long list of things that could be said about her.”

“Exactly. But if she did not exist, would she be perfect?” He looked at me, smiling.

“Well, no. She wouldn’t be up to much if she didn’t exist.” I said.

“Therefore, we can conclude that since the idea of perfection implies existence, the perfect Granny must actually exist.”

“Wait! Wait! You’re going too fast for me.” I exclaimed.”You say that the perfect Granny exists, but all that we have said is that the idea of the perfect Granny exists. We have no evidence that she exists in the real world.”

“You’re nearly there, Tommu.” Netto answered encouragingly. “Just one more twist. Is the real world the world of physical objects in which we see imperfect copies, in which there is a Netto who falls short of the ideal Netto and Tommu falls short of the ideal Tommu and Our Granny falls short of the ideal Granny? Is that the real world?

I think we have agreed that it is not. When we search for Our Granny’s Will, we are looking for the ideal Will of the ideal Granny. And we know that the idea of Our Perfect Granny definitely exists. The fact that you were able, just now, to tell me about it proves that we are right.”

“I’m sorry,” I looked at Netto, “I need to think this through a little. I had heard of the wisdom of the Gardeners but I had never, in my strangest imaginings, thought that they would have invented so abstract an explanation of a simple village and Our Granny who we all think we know well.”

“Thank you, Tommu,” he smiled again, “but I have to confess that some of these ideas are not original. We have also profited by some of the books left on our island, and this idea, far from being a new one, has been in circulation in America, and before that in other places, for at least two thousand years.

It is an essential part of any system that goes beyond what exists here and now to try and see what could or should be changed. When our people lived in the jungle, they never thought that anything existed beyond the objects they saw each day. They had some ideas of spirits that occupied the trees and the plants, the animals and even the natural features of rivers and waterfalls, but they had nothing that told them about things beyond themselves.

They could never trust each other beyond what they could see. They lived at the mercy of nature and the elements so that their lives were short. A man as old as you, or me, Tommu, would already be so old that they would think that he was wise. But until they recognise that there are ideas that go beyond the individual, that extend like a tent over the whole tribe, they cannot move forward.

Everything changes when we realise that the things we see around us are not reality; when we recognise that they are just imperfect forms of ideas that exist independently, of ideals that we can aspire to.

We can tell other people about what things should be like. We can get people to work together for a common purpose. By thinking about the perfect forms of everyday objects – whether they are simple tables, or people or complex machines, we can see how they should be and measure ourselves against them. We can work towards more perfect copies, just as the carpenter can make the next table better than the last.”

“But what about the ones that we do see every day? What about the Village as it is?”

“Well,” Netto pondered for a moment, “They can always be improved. They can find ways to improve themselves – we as Gardeners can find ways to help them to become more like their ideal forms. They can be given nurturing and care, they can be shown the potential that they have and assisted in reaching it.

We have seen how Our Granny’s Will brought the pain of the Fire to our Village, and how it rediscovered its purpose, its sense of unity.”

“But what,” I asked, “if the Village did not improve? What if they continued not to reach their potential?”

“That would be a very serious case, I suppose. I think that Our Granny would have to destroy this Village. And start again.”

Netto paused a moment as we both reflected on his conclusion. Then he resumed.

“Of course, I don’t think that is at all likely. Our Granny has gone to the trouble of creating our Village, perhaps even our island, and she has taken the trouble to care for us in the past. Even when our people have not given her the honour that she deserves, she has consistently corrected and improved us, so there is no reason to think that she will stop doing so.”

“Created the island? Surely that seems a strange notion. The island was here long before Our Granny was born.”

“True, Tommu, true.” Netto grimaced, “We enter the realm of speculation here, but remember that even if Our Granny herself – that is the Granny that we know in the Village – was born recently, the idea of Our Granny, the Perfect Granny may have been here before that. If the idea is truly perfect then it is difficult to think that it did not always exist, so the idea of Our Granny may have created the island precisely so that the physical copy of Our Granny that we know would have a place to live. It is possible. And there are those among the Gardeners who believe that it is true.”

“But Netto, why do we have to think that someone created the island. Might it not always have been here?”

“That is easier to answer. Everything that we see around us has a cause, so something must have caused the island. The idea of the island must have existed before the island itself did, or how would the island have come into being?

Think of a chicken. Where does a chicken come from?”

“From an egg,” I answered, “which was laid by a chicken. Everyone knows that there is no answer to the question of which came first.”

“And yet,” Netto said, “unless we think that something as complicated and unlikely as a chicken and its eggs have always simply existed, there must have been a point at which something caused them. There must have been a first cause of chickens and eggs, just as there was a first cause of islands and seas and fishes.”

“And you say this was Our Granny – or rather the perfect idea of Our Granny?”

“That I can’t say. Other people have different explanations of where the original ideas came from and one has to admit that it is hard to make comparisons between them. After all, they are all ideas and they have to be extremely complicated ideas to explain the complicated world they have created. In the end, it may actually be impossible for us to understand the first cause of everything.

What I can say is that there is no reason why any other idea about the creation of the world should be more convincing than saying that the world as we know it, with everything in it, is a reflection of ideas in the mind of Our Perfect Granny.”

“Even the Americans? Could Our Granny have caused the Americans?”

“We have to recognise the possibility. Something caused the Americans, so why not Her? Although the Americans do have their own ideas about that. They believe in a Father figure, very similar to Our Granny and they think that the whole world was created from ideas in his mind.”

“So they believe the same things as our Gardeners? That sounds like a good thing.”

“It is and it isn’t.” Netto replied, “On the one hand, the idea of the world being caused by ideas in the mind of a being that no one can understand is consistent. But if they came here and tried to argue against respect for Our Granny in favour of some other Father (who, incidentally, was not American but came from a tribe somewhere else) then, of course, we should have to tell our Guardians to shoot them.”

“Couldn’t we just let them keep their own beliefs? They seem to be quite similar to ours.”

“If they just keep their own beliefs, then you are right. They would do no harm and, indeed, as long as the Americans stay in America, they are welcome to their thoughts. But the very existence of our way of live and our Village depends on people believing enough in Our Granny and her will to do what is necessary for us to preserve ourselves. If the Americans were to attempt to interfere with that, we would have no option but to fight for the truth we believe in.

An alternative set of beliefs – a different story, for want of a better word – is completely destructive. That is why we have to combat Hama Batu and the Shadows. Their false ideas threaten our very existence.”

“But that sounds as if the war we are fighting is simply about a disagreement over a story!”

“It certainly is, Tommu. But that is what people always fight over. They fight because they are afraid, they fight because they believe that their homes or their families are threatened. They fight over ideas and what they believe.

That should be no surprise. The world is made from ideas so fighting over ideas is more important than fighting over physical objects.”

“You’re saying that ideas are the cause of wars!”

“I don’t think I would express it that way. What I would say is that it would be impossible to bring together an army and to lead it into battle if you could not convince them of an idea. Which brings me to another thought that I have been considering while we’ve been speaking.

You tell me that you are writing the story of our island. Well that story can be thought of as a series of ideas. The people who hear that story will learn a great deal. They will form an impression of our island, of the people who live here, of what they do, of what they think.”

“That’s what I hope.” I replied. “I hope to capture the facts of the past sixty years so that they are not forgotten.”

“Well how would you feel about letting me read what you have written so far?”

“To read it?” I had not really thought very much of anyone actually reading my story, “But you might not approve of what I have written.”

“That is as may be, Tommu,” Netto smiled disarmingly, “but I don’t think that it would be necessary for me to change it, even if I did.”

“Even though we’ve agreed that ideas are dangerous and worth dying and killing for.”

“With all respect, Tommu,” he smiled agin, “how many people on this island could read your story?”

“I don’t know, perhaps twenty? Thirty at most?”

“Precisely. And those thirty people are almost entirely part of the group who depend on Our Granny and her stories to remain alive and happy. They are like Captain Hasiki or Manaku Jim. They might think of themselves as being opposed to what is done by the Gardeners but, if the Gardeners were to stop doing it, they would be the first to lose their comfortable lives.

I do not wish to be unkind, but there is no revolutionary audience out there waiting to change the world on the basis of what you have written. You have my word that you are free to write whatever you like. You have asked me some good and interesting questions and I would just be interested to see what your results look like. Who knows, I might even be able to contribute something a passage or two?”

“For myself, I would be interested to hear your view on what I have done.” I hesitated, “But I have to think of others as well. I would not want to get anyone who has spoken to me into trouble. Some of them might have been indiscreet and said things that they did not really mean. I could also have misunderstood some things that I was told. I think it would be wiser not to share the work until I have checked it very carefully.”

“You have my word that there is no need for that, Tommu. I think that you and I understand each other. Like you, I try to understand problems from a variety of points of view. Your questions have shown me that you are driven by real curiosity and not by a desire for polemical debate.

Later, if the book is to be shown to others, then the exercise you describe may be necessary and, if that is the case, I promise that I will help you to do it. At this point, however, the matter rests entirely between you and me.

I find your project very interesting. Who knows, it may even be useful, in the long run to the preservation of our way of life on the island. It may result in greater Glory for Our Granny. I do not think there is anything for you to worry about.”

I thought back over the content of the book that I had written and concluded that there was only one area that I absolutely had to check before allowing anyone – especially a Gardener – to see its contents.

“I need to understand one thing,” I said, “and that is the situation with regard to fuel on the island for the Tractor.”

“Ah!” Netto burst into laughter, “Now I understand. What has Mr Langanipa been telling you? That’s what you’re worried about. Well I can tell you immediately that, whatever he has said, it isn’t a problem any longer.”

“Perhaps, but I can say that he is extremely concerned not to be interpreted wrongly.”

“Well he will not be. Langanipa’s views have long since been brought into the mainstream. Yes, twenty years ago, he was prepared to say all sorts of things and take all sorts of risks, but nowadays, I don’t think his ideas are more than mildly eccentric. On the particular subject of the fuel reserves, the official orthodoxy is that there is no problem.

Unofficially, I can tell you that today, fuel is managed very carefully indeed. You know that the area we cultivate has been substantially reduced. Partly, of course, that is due to the security issues on which we officially place the blame but ploughing so much less also helps considerably in eking out the resources available to us.

In any case, we know in all the detail that we need, what Langanipa thinks on most topics. He has learned, over the years, to be much more careful in what he says and even in how he says it. You can rest easy that there will be nothing in what you have written about Langanipa to surprise me or that will cause him a problem. I can assure you that your words and your friends will be safe with me.”