Ultimate Justice

by Ultimate Justice (epub)

  “I hear the philosopher,” Dave said as he put down a tray with burgers, fries and coffee. Bandi felt hungry. Dave placed a towering heap of bap, meat, cheese and trimmings in front of him.

  “Wow! All that! It’s twice as big as yours.”

  “I know my limits,” smiled Dave. “Dive into the chips too. Now then, what’s this you’re saying about thinking?”

  “He’s just explaining that he sits and thinks while his brother and sister play football,” explained Abby.

  “Go on,” urged her father.

  “Well,” said Bandi tentatively, wondering how he was going to get his mouth around his food, “so many people take stuff for granted. But I reckon you can’t. Life is such a fantastic thing, and being able to think about it like we do is so incredible too. How come such unlikely beings as us exist? Like, Kakko gets excited about the most up-to-date technology that makes engines go, but I think that the people who can work all that out are even more wonderful. I mean, a tractor engine can do just one thing but my mum can do so many different things. And she’s wise too. She knows how to teach, and she’s got this enormous patience. And my dad, he’s blind, but he can do all sorts of things and knows how to make unhappy people happy. And then we love each other. I mean, what is that all about? What is love and where does it come from? And then there is all this about our being sent to places just at the right time, and…” Bandi stopped, embarrassed. “Sorry, I am rabbiting on, aren’t I?”

  “No. Not at all,” stated Dave emphatically, “I’m intrigued.”

  Abby had not taken a bite of her burger. She just sat staring at her new friend.

  “And how does all this thinking compare to computers?” asked Dave.

  “Computers? Well, they do things. People made them. They don’t provide answers themselves – that needs people.”

  “Would you rather think about why things are as they are, or study computers?”

  “Both. I have to think about things, I guess. But it’s important to do something useful isn’t it?”

  “And asking about the ‘why’ of things is not useful?”

  “Not like making things or working with computers.”

  “Do you know what I think, Bandi? I think you have the makings of a good philosopher.”

  “A philosopher? I don’t know what that is.”

  “Don’t you do any philosophy at school?” asked Abby. “Plato and stuff?”

  “No. How would he?” replied her father. “Plato and philosophy is from Earth. It’s our history. If this young man comes from a different planet then he’s unlikely to have heard of Plato and the history of philosophy. His planet will have its own thinkers.”

  “I suppose so. I was forgetting that. Bandi kind of feels so like us.”

  “In many ways he is of course. He’s human – just not from Earth. And his father and grandmother are from right here in Persham. The translation is very sophisticated and we can get the impression that he knows what we know.”

  “Until he gets in a mess with a McDonald’s,” laughed Abby as she watched Bandi struggle with his food. “You are allowed to use both hands,” she explained, “but you’re not supposed to take it apart.”

  Bandi laughed too. “It tastes great. What’s it made of?”

  “Dead cow… cheese (that’s milk that someone’s messed about with) and bread. Oh, and that green thing is a slice of gherkin. You don’t have to eat that if you don’t want to.” Abby never ate the gherkin.

  “This is a special treat for days out. It is not recommended as everyday food, you understand Bandi,” stated Dave.

  “Tell me about, what did you call him, ‘Play’ something.”

  “Play? Oh, You mean Plato. Better ask Dad.”

  “You can explain, Abby.”

  “Nah. I’ll get it wrong. Dad’s the expert here.”

  “I am no expert but I have been reading philosophy a bit longer than Abby,” Dave said. “Plato was a teacher who loved wisdom – that’s what the word ‘philosophy’ means. It’s Greek, as was Plato. He lived about two and a half thousand years ago and founded a special school in a place called Academia just north of Athens. Here he taught the philosophy of his teacher Socrates and contributed lots of his own ideas too.”

  “He told a story about a cave,” put in Abby. “Tell Bandi about the cave.”

  “Well, it’s really all about what is the real and what is only a shadow of the real. Plato was asking questions about ‘goodness’, and ‘beauty’ and ‘justice’. Somehow we recognise these things. We have an instinct for what is good and what is not. Likewise we seem to know what is beautiful and what is ugly, and what is right and what is wrong. It’s like there’s a template of them outside of us that is eternal and universal. We can try and tell ourselves differently, try and convince ourselves that we can decide on what is right or wrong, good or bad and so on. We can even bring up our children to believe bad is good, but it doesn’t work. If we try and adapt good and bad, or right and wrong, to suit ourselves then the world gets into a mess. So to Plato it seemed there were ideal forms of goodness and justice and beauty – real goodness, justice and beauty – that exist outside of us, outside of the everyday world we live in – somewhere that is eternal and perfect. But where are they? It’s not somewhere we can naturally see directly.”

  “It’s like, we can only see the shadow of justice or goodness. Plato’s true ‘forms’ is the ultimate stuff – the real stuff, the original,” contributed Abby.

  “That’s right. Ordinary people living ordinary lives don’t see the originals – the forms – only their shadows. But Plato reckoned that using reason to find the forms was better than seeing them, because our eyes often deceive us. We can work out what the ideal world must be like from contemplating all the reflections or shadows of the ideal we encounter. In our everyday lives we only get clues to the nature of the true forms. But every new clue helps us to have a better understanding of the ideal.” Bandi nodded. He was listening intently and was with the argument so far.

  “So this is where the cave Abby is talking about comes in. It’s as if we live in a cave, and all we can see are shadows of the true ‘forms’ outside the cave shown up by firelight on its back wall. Most of the people inside the cave don’t realise that they are only seeing shadows. They are tied down and under servitude to their masters inside the cave and do not contemplate leaving it. But occasionally someone – a thinking someone, a budding philosopher who asks questions about ‘why’ and ‘how’ – will not be satisfied with the cave existence and will free him or herself and leave the cave and begin to explore the real world outside. When they see the true forms, they will see immediately what the cave is all about. If the person with this new and more complete knowledge then goes back into the cave and tries to explain to the others what they are missing, the cave dwellers may mostly choose to ignore the wise person or even think them mad, and some of the masters will even see them as subversive. In their world he or she is, ‘upsetting the settled order of things and sowing seeds of discontent among the people’, they may say. They may even attempt to silence them, intimidate them, disappear them and perhaps kill them. (That happened to Plato’s teacher and friend, Socrates.) But some will listen, struggle free and get to leave the cave and travel into the real world where they, too, can explore what true goodness, true justice and true beauty are.”

  “…and that true goodness, justice and beauty is the same wherever you are in the universe?” asked Bandi.

  “Exactly! The ‘forms’, as Plato calls them, are universal and eternal.”

  “So I can explore that truth even from Joh.”

  “From anywhere in the universe (or beyond it) because it doesn’t belong to any one culture, or religion or school of thought – and it is not limited by space and time.”

  “I like that. This is philosophy?”

  “Plato’s philosophy. Since then, there have been some really great strides in exploring the ultimate questions of life. From Pl
ato’s pupil Aristotle onwards we have been considering different fields of philosophy. There is ‘metaphysics’ with questions like, ‘Who am I?’ and ‘Do I have a purpose?’ Then we have ‘epistemology’ – asking questions about knowledge such as, ‘Can I know that things actually exist outside my imagination?’ and ‘How do I know I am real myself?’ And ‘logic’: ‘Can I deduce the truth of one thing from others?’ and so on…”

  “You’ve kind of lost me now,” sighed Bandi.

  “Dad, don’t try to sum up two and half thousand years in, like, one breath!” pleaded Abby. “Bandi, you’ve really set him off now. He’s into his ‘big words’. He’ll not stop all day!” she laughed.

  “But I do want to understand. I want to know more about these philosophers.”

  “There are books. Many books. Come on, finish up the rest of those fries and drink your coffee and we’ll go into Waterstones and we’ll see what they have. I always like to start people on Sophie’s World by Jostein Gaarder.”

  ***

  They went back onto Cornmarket Street and Abby took Bandi’s arm and they followed her father into Broad Street.

  “See, I told you computing was boring,” she whispered. They were too close, her father overheard.

  “Not for everyone, Abby. Don’t make generalised statements. That is not good philosophy!”

  “I am not generalising,” she retorted. “I just know Bandi.”

  “After two days?”

  “Yes!”

  “I think Abby is right,” agreed Bandi, “I mean about the computing. I have been going for what I could do as a job rather than what I most enjoy doing.”

  “As a matter of fact I think she is right too – from what I have heard from you. But I would rather emphasise the positive. You may enjoy philosophy – but that doesn’t exclude you from enjoying computing as well. I am afraid my daughter is prejudiced. And, as a rule, it is impolite to tell someone that their chosen way of life is ‘boring’. To say something is ‘boring’ is a very subjective statement. Only young people can sometimes get away with being quite so subjective because people make allowances. When she gets a bit older, our Abigail will find herself in hot water, I fear… ah, here we are, this is Waterstones.”

  Bandi was just amazed by all the books. There were floors of them – he had no idea how many. The shelves seemed to go on for ever. How Dave managed to navigate around and find the philosophy section he had no idea. He passed his hand along a shelf and, hey presto, there it was – Sophie’s World.

  “It tells the story of a fifteen-year-old who explores the history of philosophy. She begins by asking some of those ultimate questions we were discussing earlier, and her teacher very wisely explains in a very simple way how the philosophers through the ages came up with some answers – and, of course, the new questions those answers themselves raise. There are always new questions. I think you’ll enjoy it. It will give me pleasure to get this for you.”

  “Dad will pay -”

  “I wouldn’t hear of it. No. It’s a present.”

  “Wow. Thanks. This is great.” Bandi opened it up at the first page. “Oh dear, it’s all in English.”

  “Of course. What language would you like?”

  “No Earthly one.”

  “No. I guess not.”

  “Nan would be able to read it, though. If she read it aloud it might translate – like we are doing now. And Dad and Nan had to learn Johian from nothing. They might even be able to translate it themselves. Mum’s own language, Wanulkan, is completely different but she managed too. They’re clever. I don’t think I could do what they have done.”

  “You could,” said Dave. “If you came to live here you would learn quickly enough. But philosophy has its own language in any case. It’s quite an exact discipline. Properly understanding the words in the way the philosophers meant them is the key to grasping their concepts. Words in common use are not so exact in their meaning, and their common meanings today are sometimes different from what they used to be, so even people who speak English as their mother tongue have to spend time learning the vocabulary. That is often the hardest part for them because the common meaning of the word keeps getting in the way.”

  “I know that,” said Abby. “It’s like when Plato uses the word ‘form’ or ‘ideal’. It’s like a new language. Grandma says ‘ideal’ reminds her of ‘Ideal Milk’, which has nothing to do with philosophy.”

  “Yes, Abby. It took you a bit to get that didn’t it?”

  “Not so long, Dad!” exclaimed Abby colouring.

  “No. Not so long,” agreed Dave hastily, “but some people never cotton on at all and that’s difficult for us. I mean us clergy and people who want to do some disciplined thinking. They can think we’re being deliberately difficult. But don’t get me on to that…”

  “Dad got told off by the leader of the Ladies’ Guild last year,” whispered Abby in a confidential tone, “for using big words, and he’s still annoyed…”

  “Abby!” It was her dad’s turn to blush. “She wasn’t willing to take the trouble to understand… I doubt you will have any problem, Bandi.”

  “I want to learn. I want to learn more words. Words are so interesting. They go back into history and the way they change their meaning sometimes tells us something.”

  “Hold old did you say you are?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “Fourteen and already an intellectual. Your years on Planet Joh must be longer than ours.”

  “No. They are the universal standard years. Dad says they are based on the Earth One year. A year for us isn’t related to anything to do with our planet. I get Dad to tell me about Earth sometimes. He never told me about philosophy though. There seem to be so many books!” said Bandi scanning the shelves.

  “And this is just the current ones,” reflected Dave, “not counting the electronic stuff which is as common as paper these days. Let’s go and pay for this, then we’ll go down to the river and hire a punt.”

  “Yay. Great!” Abby’s face was a picture of delight. She had only been in a punt once before. Having Bandi around meant this routine journey into Oxford to visit the orthodontist had turned into a rare outing. Under normal circumstances, her dad would almost certainly have driven straight home again from the hospital.

  ***

  The punting turned out to be great fun. At one stage, while they were changing places, Bandi had nearly fallen out, but Abby had grabbed his belt and yanked him back. They both collapsed in the wildly rocking punt on top of one another roaring with laughter as Dave struggled to maintain his balance.

  ***

  When they eventually got home there was only time for a quick meal before they had to leave for the Persham Middle School hall. Abby’s mum had worked hard cooking something that they really needed more time to enjoy – but she was a patient woman. Her husband dashing in and out and coming home late was apparently part of the deal of living in a vicarage.

  31

  The Persham Middle School hall was packed. As Dave and Jack were ushered up onto the dais, there was a rumble of dozens of conversations and greetings and the clanking and scraping of more chairs being brought in to accommodate a larger than expected gathering. Jack got whiffs of his old school mixed with the smell of bodies, make-up and damp wool. He was in one sense ‘at home’ again in Persham but was overwhelmingly grateful that he was no longer trapped in the school as a pupil. Tomorrow he would step through the white gate to the freedom of White Gates Cottage and into Jalli’s arms!

  These, however, were not the thoughts of our two teenagers. Bandi was contemplating how much he would miss his new friend, while Abby felt it was quite unfair. They found themselves crushed together on a gym bench on the side of the hall – the chairs given to people of more mature years. Abby knew (or she thought she knew) that she would never meet anyone so wonderful as this boy from across the universe again. It occurred to them both in that moment that it might be possible for Abby to see the white gate and t
o visit Joh, but neither of them said anything.

  “Welcome everyone,” announced Councillor Banks calling the meeting to order. “Welcome to this meeting to acquaint you all with the latest developments of the proposed new unit for blind children to be connected with Persham Middle School. And today an especial welcome to our own Jack Smith, one time pupil of this middle school, who now works as a full-time teacher in a specialist school for blind children overseas. I heard Jack was in town and I am so glad I persuaded him to stay on for an extra day to come to this meeting. Judging by the attendance this evening, Jack,” he turned and looked at his unseeing guest, “it seems as if my getting an announcement on local radio has drawn in some of your fans!” He continued to address the gathering, “But, whether you have come because you are interested in the plans, or just meeting your friend again after all these years, I hope you find this evening informative and enjoyable. Let me begin by summarising where we are with this project.”

  Councillor Banks went over the history of the proposal. It had long been felt by some that a specialised school for blind children was needed, although they had had to fight off strong objections. A compromise had been reached. Falling roles had made the three tier system in Persham precarious. It was uneconomical to run a pyramid with most schools not coming near their planned admission levels. Other councils had solved the problem by opting for a two-tier arrangement. But in Persham there was a particular problem because it would mean building a new secondary school on a new site from scratch – there simply wasn’t room to expand Renson Park High in its current location. Then the middle school head had come up with a suggestion that part of her school could become a specialised unit for blind children – from reception to Year Eight when they could move on to the mainstream upper school. As they were associated with the middle school they could be gradually integrated into the activities and learning in the mainstream which would mean the transition to the upper school would not be as daunting. “Amazingly,” Councillor Banks declared, “all sides have united on the plan. The blind children’s unit will draw in pupils from across the county.” The most enthusiastic people seemed to be the parents of the blind children, which was significant.