Education and value

MRINAL MIRI

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VALUES may be said to have their home in the human world. Of course, things have value for creatures other than humans. Animals seek out things, among other things care for their own kind, and for their young ones. And, it may be said that such behaviour shows that for animals too the world consists of things which have value and others which have no or negative value. But animals do not regard things as valuable or not valuable; they do not evaluate or make judgments of value. Evaluating or making judgments of value requires the capacity to identify value-bearing properties of things, to answer, in principle, questions of the kind, ‘Why do you prefer x to y?’, ‘Why is x important and y not?’ Possibly it may be said with some justification that evaluations of this kind can be performed only by human beings – creatures which are capable of articulatable thought and argumentation. As a philosopher puts it: ‘Human beings are ethical animals. I do not mean that we naturally behave particularly well, nor that we are endlessly telling each other what to do. But we grade and evaluate, and compare and admire, and claim and justify. We do not just prefer this or that in isolation. We prefer that our preferences are shared, we turn them into demands on each other.1 The idea of value is quite clearly embedded in these uniquely human practices.

Let us consider the wide range of things that we regard as valuable: wealth, power, fame; virtues such as honesty, courage, kindness, qualities of mind and body such as intelligence, physical energy, kinds of human relationship such as friendship, marriage, parent-children relationship and so on; things of beauty in nature or human artefacts, e.g. mountains, trees, rivers and lakes, paintings, sculptures, dance, music etc. It will perhaps be generally agreed that some of these things have value that is intrinsic to themselves; and that others only insofar as they stand in a certain relationship to other things which are considered valuable.

For example, for most of us – hopefully – wealth, power and fame do not have intrinsic value, i.e. they are not valued for their own sake, but for the sake of something that they can bring about, something which is valued for its own sake, e.g. comfort and luxury, ability to dominate others, a heightened self-esteem and so on.

 

It may be said that the virtues that I have listed above – honesty, courage, patience, kindness and justice – must always be regarded as valuable in themselves, independently of their relationship to other things. Honesty, it is often said, is the best policy. What is meant by this is that honesty always – at least in the long run, if not in the short run – brings personal benefits or advantages. But if one is being honest solely for the gaining of personal benefits and advantages, then there is a worm in one’s honesty, and what is being valued is not genuine honesty but an instrument for personal gains and advantages. Honesty that is not valued for its own sake is not quite honesty.

Similarly, it may be thought that courage is instrumental for achieving self-esteem, fame, admiration and so on; but courage valued only for its instrumentality is not really courage. It lacks, as it were, the inner shine and natural stability which alone gives it the character of courage. Similar points can be made about the other virtues that I have mentioned. About human relationships the following may be said: Most human relationships are a function of the society we live in and the institutions which constitute it. And since society and institutions in it change, and the latter are replaced by new ones, human relationships too inevitably undergo change and newer relationships replace old ones. With this, values placed on relationships too change – sometimes quite radically.

 

Thus, think of relationships within a feudal society, driven by patriarchy, functional gender distinction, ideas of duty and loyalty, and within a modern society based on professionalism, notions of management and ideas of individual freedom and rights, gender equality and sexuality separated from procreation. And then think of the ethical environment of our times and compare it with the ethical environment of, say, a hundred years ago. It is quite clear that while new relationships have emerged that are thought to be valuable in different ways, some of the old ones – even as they continue to exist – have lost their ethical shine, e.g. marriage, patriotism, relationships based on kinship ties and ‘feudal’ loyalties and so on. But, so it may be said, there are relationships which transcend the bounds of societal and institutional changes, however radical, and these relationships may have a stability of value that is beyond temporal contingencies – relationships such as are based on friendship, love and mutual respect.

Frequently, the argument is advanced that relationships lose their value to the extent that their real nature within the framework of a particular institution stands exposed. For example, marriage has lost what I have called its ethical shine because – so it is claimed – it is now clear to us that marriage was designed to perpetuate the domination of women by men. Thus a relationship was regarded as valuable for its own sake because of our ignorance of the end that it was designed to achieve.

Similar things can be said about many other relationships which are no longer considered valuable or at least not as valuable as they were in a different ethical environment. But relationships based on friendship, love and mutual care and respect are not – so many of us would like to think – subject to the contingencies of any particular ethical environment. They are relationships that are valued for their own sake.

 

One argument that can be advanced for valuing them the way we do is as follows: Relationships based on friendship, love and mutual respect have a distinct and profound place in our notion of humanity. Let us take the idea of language. Aristotle said that man is a ‘rational animal’. He might well have said that man is a language wielding animal, because man’s rationality is embedded in his capacity to use language. Now think of the idea of addressing someone – an idea that is central to the concept of linguistic communication – at least in the speaker-hearer context. To address someone is to draw her attention to oneself. But drawing attention to oneself by addressing is profoundly different from drawing attention by means other than addressing. I can draw someone’s attention by stamping my feet, making a disturbing noise, clapping my hands, thumping on my desk and so on. These are all ways of getting someone to attend to me without having to address her.

Another way of putting it would be to say that these are ways of causing someone to attend to one – ways in which we would try and draw (or divert) attention of creatures whom, in the normal meaning of the word, would not dream of addressing, e.g. animals. But human beings are also part of the animal kind, and it is certainly possible to attract their attention in a purely causal fashion. To draw someone’s attention merely causally is, within the meaning of that action, to treat her as belonging to the larger animal kind. Communication that is purely causal is non-linguistic. To address someone on the other hand is necessarily to presume or offer her membership of a linguistic community, and, therefore, to treat her firmly as a member of the human kind.

 

To address someone is, as Ramchandra Gandhi says with characteristic insight, to invite her to attend to one. Inviting someone to attend to one necessarily implies the rejection of the purely causal mode of drawing attention to oneself. If a causal process is still involved – e.g. uttering a name in the hearing of the person addressed, and the latter actually hearing it – that is something to be used as the necessary material base for linguistic communication to be possible. Such communication itself transcends this material base. Inviting someone is to show respect for her and no respect is possible without regarding the object of respect as valuable.

Thus if linguistic communication is impossible without the speaker and the hearer being bound in a relationship of mutual respect, mutual respect is, as it were, written into all characteristically human relationships. This also means that not to treat mutual respect as a value is to reject the idea of humanity itself. The value of mutual respect cannot, therefore, be subject to the contingencies of social and historical change and, is, for that reason, intrinsic.

 

If, for example, wealth, power and fame are valuable, even if as instrumentalities, then the pursuit of these must also be valuable. And it is by engaging in activities of different kinds that such goals are pursued. A distinction that is related to the distinction between intrinsic and extrinsic value that we have made, and is just as important to make, is the distinction between the internal good and the external good of a human activity.

Human beings, irrespective of any specific community or culture that they might belong to, engage in many characteristically ‘human’ activities: agricultural activities of various kinds, gardening, trade and commerce, aesthetic activities, such as dancing, making and performing music, theatrical performances, painting, making shapes with clay, wood or metal, constructing buildings of different sizes and designs, religious rituals, warfare, intellectual activities such as scholarly pursuits, scientific research, activities aimed at the well-being of others – such as teaching or educating – and playing games of incredibly different kinds. All these activities, of course, come in different cultural hues.

Most of these activities are such that human beings engage in them – if not always, at least in a considerable number of cases – in order to pursue goods, values, excellences that are internal to these activities themselves. Let us call activities with goods internal to them ‘practices’. (The word as well as the concept is taken from MacIntyre). The crucial mark of a practice is that virtues or moral qualities are essentially embedded in it. The nature of a practice can be schematically presented as follows:

* A practice is a form of rule governed human activity, e.g. chess, gardening, music, academic research.

* The essential thing about a practice is that, there is good, an excellence, which is internal to a practice and that there is a good which is external to it; for example, football has a good that is internal to it, an excellence which can be articulated only in terms of the game itself, such as that achieved by, say, Pele. It is unintelligible except in terms of the practice itself. However, there is an external good to be gained by playing football: money, fame, etc. The same is true of a practice such as scientific research.

* It is in the nature of a practice that the pursuit of a good internal to it requires the exercise of virtues, such as honesty, justice, courage and so on. To cheat in football is to defeat the very purpose of pursuit of excellence in football. (Honesty). Also one must be capable of giving others their due; recognizing and acknowledging excellence achieved by others and putting one’s own achievement in perspective. (Justice). One must be prepared to put one’s limbs at risk. (Courage). What is true of football is true of other practices as well.

* Human life would be recognizably different if it did not have room for practice in MacIntyre’s sense.

* The virtues, therefore, cannot be divorced from the fabric of human life.

In short, the virtues are not just contingently connected with the pursuit of internal goods; they are not just time tested effective means towards these ends. There is an inner connection between the two so that to think of the latter as being achievable in any other way is to distort their very nature.

 

Now, the questions that we should ask are: (i) Is education, or rather the process of education valuable in itself? And (ii) Is education a practice in the sense discussed above, that is to say, does education have excellences that are internal to it, apart from external goods that might be associated with it? To take the first question first: It may be thought that the answer to the question is, as it were, written on the face of it. Education must be conceived as inalienably connected with human well-being. (Whether or not a particular educational practice does promote human well-being is, of course, another matter. In case it can be shown not to do any such thing, it cannot then be counted as an educational practice at all.) And insofar as human well-being is valuable in itself, education too must be valuable in itself.

But let us first look at the activity of education itself. One might say that education as an activity involves at least two individuals – the teacher and the taught, the teacher and the learner and the very special communication that takes place between them. All learning does not involve teaching. So, there can be instances of learning which may not be part of the process of education. Animals learn, but they cannot be educated. Much learning in very early childhood is spontaneous and unselfconscious and, therefore, is not the result of a process of communication specific to the teacher-learner relationship.

 

Learning one’s native language is a very special case. Language teaching is, of course, an extremely important educational activity; but one cannot begin teaching a language to a child who does not yet have a language. The child cannot be taught the meaning of a word, unless it already knows what it is for a sound emanating from someone’s mouth to be a word and what it is for a word to mean something; and for the child to know this is for it already to have a language. The child simply picks up its native language in the course of its interaction with language wielding others – its parents, siblings and so on. There is no teaching involved at this stage. And yet learning language is perhaps the most momentous learning for the child; it is this that marks its entry into the world of humans.

But although, thus, learning of the most basic kind can take place without teaching, learning that is part of education, takes place paradigmatically within the teacher-learner relationship. Of course, there is such a thing as self-education; here one might suggest that the teacher and the learner are, as it were, rolled into one in the same individual. (More radically, it might be suggested that all education is self-education – it is the presence of the teacher in a person that makes her education possible at all.)

 

Given that the teacher-learner relationship is, as it were, the frame within which the process of education takes place, imagine the incredible variety of things that a teacher can teach to a learner: skills of various kinds – skills involved in playing particular games, in crafts of different kinds, in the most satisfying pursuit of pleasure including pursuit of sexual pleasure (Kama Sutra), in activities such as hunting, fishing, gardening and farming, stealing, burgling and robbing, in curing illnesses, in selective or mass killing and warfare, in construction and machine making/using, in managing people, in playing musical instruments, singing and dancing and so on.

A teacher can also induct the learner into the world of ideas – things that light up the world, the human, animal and the natural world in vastly different ways. Many would like to think that this last is the primary function of the teacher engaged in the business of education. But not all teaching of ideas is education, just as learning of many skills is incomplete without the teaching of the right kind of ideas.

Perhaps one can make here a distinction between instruction and education. The commonest and the most effective way of teaching and learning a skill is through instruction. Of course, one gets better at it through practice and by engaging one’s own native creative instincts. But mere instructional teaching does not amount to education because of education’s connection with human well-being. Instructing some one in a particular skill without making a clear distinction between its use for human well-being and its contrary use is not to educate her.

It is for this reason that much teaching of skills cannot count as education. For the teaching of a skill to count as education, it must include the teaching of how the practice of the skill can enhance human well-being. Thus the teaching of many of the skills that I mentioned above is not really education; e.g. skills involved in selective and mass killing; in stealing, robbing and burgling etc.

 

The connection between some of the other skills and human well-being is clear enough; e.g. farming, gardening, construction of buildings, bridges and machines and so on, although the idea of well-being being applied may frequently be open to question. Perhaps some of the more instructive cases are those of skills involved in what we call artistic activities – e.g. singing, dancing, playing musical instruments; drawing and painting; playing games of different kinds. What is the connection between these and human well-being? That there is a connection few will doubt; but it is not at all an easy matter to be able to spell out the connection.

Take the case of music. Music, like language, is specific to humans. In fact, there is a widely held view that music is a language in itself – a language, moreover, that is ‘universal’ whatever that might mean. But be that as it may, the question that we must ask is why music is considered valuable so that teaching of music, unlike the teaching of a skill like climbing trees, or eating with chopsticks, or catching birds, is unquestionably part of education.

Music is valued both for its causal properties and properties that are, as it were, internal to it. Its causal properties include properties like its ability give pleasure, stir up feelings of energy (e.g. martial music), of peace and tranquillity, of romantic longing, its evocative powers and so on. Music undoubtedly has all these properties; but these are not unique to music – many other things have them; and, more importantly, music does not exercise its causal powers either equally, or universally – even if unequally – on everyone. Music that is pleasurable to some may be most unpleasant to others, e.g. western classical music to some Indian listeners and Indian classical music to some western listeners; music stirring up feelings of particular kinds is always a matter of degree in respect of different listeners; and the same music may leave many listeners quite cold.

 

If music’s causal powers are as variable and, if you like, as erratic, as it appears, then surely, music’s value for the well-being of humans as such cannot lie just in these powers. It must then lie in the properties that music has qua music. What then are music’s properties qua music – properties, moreover, that are valuable in such a way that they are inalienably linked to human well-being. This is an extremely difficult question to answer. Most attempts to answer it are built around the consideration of real or imaginary causal properties of music, and such attempts, as we have just seen, cannot really count as answers to the question because: (a) the very same causal properties may be possessed by something else; (b) they may not have the same effect on all humans; (c) the effect may vary in degree from human to human.

 

Take, for example, an answer of this kind that is common enough, namely, that music generates peace of mind, tranquillity and freedom from mental tension. It is quite clear that this won’t do as an answer: something else, totally unconnected with music, e.g. drug, or psychotherapy may generate the effect much more universally, in equal degree and with far greater certainty than music. Music then would have to be regarded as having lost its value for human well-being, or at best to have an extremely erratic relationship to it.

Music is, of course, also appreciated for what might be called its structural properties, i.e. properties embedded in the relationships between the sounds which are the constituents of a particular piece of music – relationships from which the melodic and harmonic specificity of the music emanates. But if this is offered as an answer to the question about music’s connection with human well-being, it turns out to be rather limited in its scope. The relationships between sounds in question can be extraordinarily complex, and possibilities are literally infinite; mastery over their intricacies can be acquired only through intense training. In this respect music is somewhat like mathematics.

Numbers, for example, can be related to one another in an infinite variety of ways; it requires both innate capacity and very intense training for one to gain any degree of mastery over them. But once such mastery has been achieved, one has creative access to a world that can be the source of intense delight: a delight that is totally autonomous, that is independent of any ‘external’ purpose that the object of delight may serve. It is interesting that Kant, the great German philosopher of the 18th century, thought that our capacity for aesthetic judgment – judgment of taste – is grounded in just such a delight, a delight ‘in the object that does not owe its origin to any representation of some prior interest that we judge the object to further.’ But the crucial difference between delight in music and delight in the possibility of infinity of relationships between numbers is that the capacity for delight in music does not require a vast amount of knowledge of the technical intricacies of the structure of musical sounds. A person relatively ignorant of these intricacies can genuinely appreciate the value of a piece of music and assess its comparative worth in relation to other pieces of music. I think what makes this possible is music’s very intimate relationship with human emotions. Music expresses emotions, and it expresses them not by way of representation or narration, but much in the way that a cry expresses pain or a scream expresses fear. The cry itself is painful, and scream fearful.

 

Similarly, sadness is in the music itself, and anxiety is, as it were, written over its face. ‘When we hear the music as being sombre, melancholy, cheerful or blissful: we hear the emotion in the music.’2 How is this possible? It is in answering this question that one gains an insight into what primarily constitutes the specific value of music. In modern western philosophy, we find the best clue to an answer in Schopenhauer. Schopenhauer says, ‘…music does not express this or that particular and definite pleasure, this or that affliction, pain, sorrow, horror, gaiety, merriment, or peace of mind, but joy, pain, sorrow, horror, gaiety merriment, peace of mind themselves, to a certain extent in the abstract, their essential nature, without accessories, and also without the motives for them.’3

 

If we think of emotions as consisting of an intentional and, therefore, necessarily a contextual element, and an element of feeling, then what ‘music reflects is the infinitely various forms in which the non-representational and non-conceptual content of the emotions – "their extracted quintessence" of satisfaction and dissatisfaction – can be experienced in time.’4 The conceptual and representational content of an emotion consists of a belief about what the emotion is about. The feeling element of an emotion can be infinitely varied in tone and depth and it is this that music is particularly suited to explore and mirror.

The musical expression of feelings can acquire a subtlety, depth and specificity – this notwithstanding the utterly abstract nature of music – that language can aspire to but not achieve. Thus Nietzsche: ‘Compared with music all communication by words is shameless; words dilute and brutalize, words depersonalize, words make the uncommon common.’5

Music’s specific value for human well-being may then be said to consist in its capacity to expand the limits of our consciousness of the possibility of our emotional experiences. Can there then be a doubt about why music should be part of the curriculum of school education – school education because an aptitude for music manifests itself very early in childhood? To expand the limits of our consciousness of the possibility of our emotional experiences is also, at the same time, to enhance the idea of the self or at least that of the subject of experiences. And the idea of human well-being cannot be separated from such enhancement of the self or the subject of experience.

 

We have, a little earlier on, talked about the ethical environment of a time. The ethical environment of a time is characterized by the primacy given to what is thought to be the preferred values of the time – an idea that is conveyed very nicely by the phrase, ‘times have changed’. How have times changed for education? One might say the values that, as it were, constitute the framework within which particular judgments of value are made, are something like the following: material progress (including ever higher levels of consumption), individual freedom (freedom of choice, thought and speech), human rights as opposed to duties (duties are contextual whereas rights are universal and independent of contexts), gender, race and caste equality and secularism in the public domain.

But with the ascendancy of the global market, and a technology that is totally wedded to the forces of the market, the highest value seems to be placed in the health and continuous growth of the market and the individual nations’ competitive status in it. Of course, the idea of a nation itself is undergoing far reaching changes under the impact of global economic forces. Education has obviously not escaped the impact of these changes in the ethical environment. One of the principal aims of education is now taken to be to prepare our children and youth to take effective part in the economic life of the country – in the management of the economy and in preventing its technological base from becoming the victim of the unimaginably rapid rate of obsolescence by continuous innovations and inventions.

The important question to ask is: Is the idea of human well-being exhausted by the idea of the acceptance and pursuit of the values that I have just mentioned. Very significant doubts can be raised not only about the value of ever higher levels of consumption, but also about values of freedom of choice, as it is sometimes espoused, and about totally context free rights of human beings. Similarly, the idea of secularism, if it implies anything more than state-neutrality in respect of all religions, can be the subject of extremely serious debate.

 

Preparing our children and youth to take effective part in the economic life of the country – and indeed now of the world – is usually taken to be the developmental aim of education. But there is another, traditionally accepted ‘developmental’ aim of education which, to my mind, is central to the very notion of education. And this is that education in its various forms and in its various stages involves engagements of different kinds – engagements that lead to the enhancement of the self, enlargement of the person.

Such engagement requires a form of attention on the part both of the teacher and the learner that enables each to overcome the natural urge to be preoccupied with concerns about oneself, urge to be self-involved. It isn’t as though education alone requires the development of such a form of attention. Human relationships of certain kinds quite outside the arena of education can thrive only on the basis of such attention. Take friendship and love. Friends must pay attention to one another beyond any selfish, egocentric preoccupations. And love, when it arises in us, moves us outward from the self to the other, as we aspire to connect in a desired manner with the object of love.

It is the energy of engagement, whether that engagement is with an individual, with a community, with a form of art, with an activity, or with the public good; and it is a developmental force, a way for the self to become more. The process of education may be said to be a continuous process of engagement at different levels. The teacher’s dual engagement with what she teaches and with the taught, the learner’s deepening engagement with the world that the teacher gradually unfolds before her – the world of the written word, of numbers, of nature around her, of human relationships at home, in the community and at school, of activities that involve rule governed participation (e.g. games) of others.

 

As we move up the levels of education, the required kind of attention is focused more and more on the world of ideas – communities of ideas (e.g. ideologies), traditions of thought, on the ways in which one tradition of thought may or may not give way to another; on how creative energy within a tradition may change the course of the tradition, on coherence and conflict among communities of ideas. The underlying purpose of such engagement is the enhancement, on the one hand, of the world of ideas, and on the other, of the self both of the recipient of education and of its giver.

And it should be obvious that this purpose cannot be external to the process itself – the process can be fully understood only in terms of its purpose. Of course, after a certain stage the role of the teacher gradually merges into that of the taught, but the purpose of the two way enhancement – of the world of ideas and of the self – remains. The purpose of education must permeate its process. It is then easy to see why education, given the purpose that is embedded in the process of education itself, must be among those human practices that are valuable in themselves; it is valuable for its own sake.

 

Now to the second of the two questions that we posed at the beginning of the section: Is education a practice in the sense that we discussed in the previous section? To remind ourselves of the salient characteristics of a practice: (i) a practice is a rule governed cooperative human activity; (ii) it has goods that are internal to it and goods that are external to it; (iii) the pursuit of goods that are internal to a practice requires the exercise of the virtues. It is clear that education is a rule governed human activity that requires the cooperation of multiple participants. Also, it has goods that are internal to it. Excellence internal to the practice of education admits of degrees, as in the case of other practices; standards of excellence are set and surpassed in the long historical tradition of the practice in very different cultural and civilizational settings.

Good teachers/educators are recognized and valued for their contribution to the quality of the craft of teaching, for adding depth and new challenges to it. An important aspect of excellence internal to a practice is that the excellence achieved in it by an individual belongs not just to the individual in question but to the practice itself. Thus Tendulkar’s achievement of excellence in cricket is also cricket’s achievement. Achievement such as his raises the standards of the game itself. Similarly with such great human endeavours as music, scholarly research, scientific pursuit and, of course, education.

 

Education, like other practices, is pursued not only for the excellence internal to it, but also for money, and – since money is, more often than not, an object of competition – for fame and power as well. (Fame and power are effective instruments in the pursuit of money.) The internal good of the practice of education used to be part of the ethical environment of not such a long time ago; teaching, for instance, was particularly valued for distancing itself from external goods that may be contingently associated with it. Things are somewhat different now; but voices are still heard harking back to the ‘past glory of the profession of teaching.’ What, then, about the virtues, the practice of which is a necessary requirement in the pursuit of internal goods?

It doesn’t need much argument to see that the virtues of honesty, courage, justice and kindness are quite inescapably involved in the pursuit of the internal goods of the practice of education. Dishonesty, deceit and deviousness distort the very spirit of education and necessarily thwart the pursuit of excellence. The teacher must show courage both in her conduct (acara) and in her judgment (vicara); she must show an unfailing sense of justice in her assessment of everything that is transacted in the process of teaching – in transmitting information and critical ideas relating to such information, and in her evaluation of her students’ performance. The sense of justice must, moreover, be permeated by an overriding care and concern for the child and its world, for life of the community and for life beyond the community.

The teacher’s engagement with ideas, communities of ideas and traditions must also be and seen to be just and fair. She shuns emotions such as hatred, jealousy and envy and encourages self-reliance on the part of her pupil; an unkind, mean and selfish teacher is incapable of pursuing excellence internal to the craft of teaching.

To sum up: I began with remarks about the idea of value, and suggested that values may be considered to be intrinsic to things that are valuable or extrinsic to them. Same things may be thought to have both intrinsic and extrinsic value. It was also argued that there are things such as virtues like honesty, courage, justice, kindness which must be considered always to have intrinsic value, even though there might be extrinsic values associated with them. To think of them as devoid of intrinsic value is to distort their very nature. Similarly, there are human relationships such as friendship and love that are always valuable in themselves independently of circumstances and the benefits that they might externally bring.

Education is neither a quality of character, like a virtue, nor is it a particular relationship, like friendship. It is a human activity involving a large number of participants and a culture and civilization specific tradition of its own. Within the core strand of the meaning of ‘education’, education is an intrinsically worthy activity; also, the activity or practice of education has goods that are internal to it, the pursuit of which requires the exercise of the virtues.

To think of value education as separable from other streams of education involves, to my mind, a profound misunderstanding of the concept of education – a misunderstanding that might have very unfortunate practical consequences. Education, as a process and a practice is impregnated with value. To be engaged in it – both as a giver and a recipient – is, if you like, to be educated in values.

 

Footnotes:

1. Simon Blackburn, Ethics, Oxford University Press, 2001, p. 4.

2. Malcolm Budd, Values of Art, Penguin Books, London, 1995, p. 136.

3. Arthur Schopenhauer, The World as Will and Representation, trans. EFJ Payne, Dover, New York, 1969, Vol . I, p. 261.

4. Malcolm Budd, ibid, p. 136.

5. Nietzsche, The Will to Power, Section 810.

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