'Know Thyself (And Not-Self)': Key Insights w.r.t 'The Education of An Amphibian' by Aldous Huxley

 Aldous Huxley is a name warranting no introduction. This is a name most popular among lovers of science fiction, and its ever-engrossing theme of dystopia. Brave New World, Huxley's seminal contribution to the genre, has left an indelible mark on the whole of literature itself. The novel's poignant exploration of social hierarchy, indoctrination and incorporation of real-world references is a feather in the intellectual cap of its writer and cements his status as a worthy commentator on the many ills that subliminally ravage human society. Reading The Education of the Amphibian, particularly keeping in mind my introduction to Huxley as the author of Brave New World, I couldn't help but utilize the essay for the purpose of my own introspection. Who am I? How am I the way that I am? What is my place in the society of which I am a part and am supposed to add value to? The hallmark of the profundity of any good prose is how it appeals to the inquisitive nature of its readers. By poring over it, did they find the answers they were looking for? Or did it help cultivate further criticality of the preconceived? The answers are sometimes in the questions as they need to be asked, again and again for the said piece of literature to remain relevant and perpetually serve as food for thought.

 The first question is of a more fundamental nature. Just who, or rather what am I?  Biology had, till this point told me that I was only a 'thinking man'. Homo sapiens.Then again, surrendering to the cliches of nomenclature does have a tendency to limit (spoiler alert about cliches).Thanks to Mr. Huxley, I now know that there's more to me than that.  Firstly, he states although the biological name of my species is homo sapiens, anthropology has stepped in to do me a solid by seeing me also as a doer than just a thinker. Homo faber. The craftsmith. Ah yes,the good old man of action. That is massively validating. Secondly, Mr. Huxley himself throws his hat in the ring to add another layer to my person: I am also a talker. Homo loquax, i.e. someone who can express themselves. So to sum it up, I am at least three rolled into one. At this point, I feel rather proud of myself. In fact, I now surmise that the only possible competition I might have this category would be none other than the Three Sisters of Fate themselves (as they conform to both 'the one who is three' and 'the three who are one' descriptions quite simultaneously). I found the rest of my aforesaid questions to be answered in a similar detailed fashion going forward. Now, on to the essay.  

 In the very opening of our essay, Mr. Huxley writes the perfect hook:

Every human being is an amphibian-or to be more accurate, every human being is five or six amphibians rolled into one. 

This beginning marks a stark deviation from our rigid biological designation. Simply put, in nomenclature, amphibians are cold-blooded creatures who can adapt quite comfortably in any environment. Homo sapiens, as primates, are warm-blooded and are suited only to particular environments. We are creatures of comfort, far from being adaptable. So how exactly does Aldous Huxley make such an egregious claim? What possible manner of dystopia, as might have befallen us, could have subverted our age-old categorization in his eyes, if any?

At this point, I proceeded to set aside my largely ignorant overthinking and focused on getting educated as is the purpose behind the essay in question.

To comprehend the first line, the author posits that every homo sapiens is,within ourselves, a multiplicity of being. This vibrant pluralism of our own existence is what takes us out of being biologically typecast and thus constitutes our 'amphibiousness', hence using the word 'amphibian' as a metaphor. Our bodies inhabit the physical world while we are free to explore the vast regions of our own spiritual potential as well as the myriad complexities of the universe around and within us. We exist not in isolation but live as part of a species which thrives on communication and interaction with each other. Again, not limited by biological constraints, we simply do not adhere rigidly to the systemic natural process known as evolution but are also imbued with the inherent agency to be our own individual selves. We have the best of all possible worlds. Or rather, we can.  

 However, the catch is also not being able to cope with a whole host of problems associated with being such  'top G's, all adding to our own embarrassment.

There is thus only one solution to our existential dilemmas. Education. The first stepping stone to true education is in learning how to express ourselves properly, in a bid to also do justice to our 'homo loquax'. 

Language is the major tool in our 'homo faber' arsenal. It maketh man out of an ape. The ability to speak DOES make us intelligent. Without further ado, in your face, Star Wars.

Through language and proper controlled expression, thus, one can inadvertently learn a lot more about the outside world and ourselves. This elevates language to that of a virtual philosophy, almost to a work of genius. Yet, as the author states, human genius (as the product of both inspiration and perspiration) is redundant and predictable, and language as its offshoot suffers the same fate. This can be evidenced by the fact that mature and unique forms of expression tend to devolve into simpler and more predictable patterns. Given these clearly well-defined limits, one is forced to conclude that there are larger and relatively much more ingenious forces at work. Echoing Shakespeare in Hamlet, there are indeed more things in the heavens and the Earth, than can be dreamt of in our confined human comprehension. 

That said, language is part and parcel of the human experience. It provides the luxury of projecting one's immaterial perceptions and intuitions, under an equally intricate material facade of physiology, quite similar to an iceberg that somehow manages to float despite the vast expanse of the ocean in all its might, surrounding it. Against the many dark depths of the ocean, the iceberg is but a small, tiny world of light all on its own. The richness of words further pique the individual's imaginative faculties, allowing them the liberty to be or not to be.Sadly, this freedom comes at a price.  Where language ushers in the utopia of the ideal, it is also exploited for catalyzing the more realistic dystopia. The diversity of mature and thoughtful expression only becomes a cesspool of dogma and conformism. The lush green fields of democracy and libertarianism are engulfed by the thick plumes of smoke rising from the insidious propaganda machine, fostering instead a most suffocating extremism. Such language, becoming largely throwaway in essence, is consequently employed by those who succumb, to the therapeutic bliss of ignorance, irrespective of the sheer extent of their acquired knowledge. In this way, we see that reliance on theory alone can only take us so far. If we continue to fail to grasp the true nature of our immediate experience and remain insensitive to the universe around us, words and knowledge, by extension, would only let us down and in our ignorance, we would resort to fanaticism. 

There is a very interesting dynamic between language and experience. As someone narrates their subjective experience, it is said to conform more to conventional patterns, rather than bring forth new frames of reference wherein the said experience can be explored from different vantage points. In lieu of the experiments as described in F.C Bartlett's Remembering, readers can see as to how the details of a picture, reference text, events or experiences get largely adulterated when one expressly recalls them from memory. The originality disappears and the fertility of meaning is substituted for the barrenness of the cliche, once made subject to the force of habit. Words, subtle or derogatory, inspite of their eloquence, tend to do a massive disservice to the intuitively wholesome nature of individual experience, rendering it somewhat incomplete. Yet, without words or rather the documentation of our past, we would not have memory of events as they have taken place. Exactly for this reason, St. Paul, serving here as the apt reference to organized religion, quips that one should put more in stock for 'the newness of the spirit than the oldness of the letter' i.e give more importance to the soul behind things, rather than be embroiled in a constant scramble to rationalize it. The written word can never do justice to those soulful experiences despite endeavoring to chronicle them at length. If one considers science from this view, then should written hypotheses without practical experimentation start to get authenticated as inferences, deductions or theories, it would be largely antithetical to the spirit of the scientific method itself. Aldous Huxley is of the view that try as much as we like, we still cannot bring ourselves to renounce the profane word condemning us to our spiritual death, as its absence is still as bad. Too much theorizing isn't good but without theory and reason, and disciplines like philosophy and law, we would eventually come full circle to being Yahoos once more. These are creatures in Johnathan Swift's Gulliver's Travels, caught in the midst of being an intelligent ape and mature human.

It is here that the reader realizes the importance of being an amphibian. By virtue of our 'amphibiousness', we also understand the essence of the concept of atonement as our 'at-one ment' with both the forces of reason and the spirit, of a harmony with the physical world as well as the abstract world of emotions, perceptions and intuition. In a companion research paper to Adonis and the Alphabet (the collection to whom this essay belongs, published in 1956) titled 'Education on the Nonverbal Level'  published by The MIT Press on behalf of The American Academy of Arts and Sciences in 1962, Aldous Huxley, while advocating for non-verbal education, compounds on the concept of amphibian in even more detail, incorporating a plethora of different perspectives:

Man is a multiple amphibian and exists at one and the same time, in a number of universes, dissimilar to the point, very nearly, of complete incompatability. He is at once an animal, and a rational intellect; a product of evolution closely related to the apes and a spirit capable of self-transcendence; a sentient being in contact with the brute data of his own nervous system and the physical environment and at the same time, the creator of a home-made universe of words and other symbols, in which he lives and moves, and has anything from thirty to eighty percent of his being. He is a self-conscious and self-centred ego,who is also a member of a moderately gregarious species, an individualist compelled by the population explosion to live at ever close quarters, and in ever tighter organizations, with millions of other egos as self-centred and as poorly socialized, as himself.  Neurologically, he is a lately evolved Jekyll-cortex associated with an immensely ancient brain stem-Hyde. Physiologically, he is a creature whose endocrine system is perfectly adapted to the the conditions prevailing in the lower Paleolithic, but living in a metropolis and spending eight hours a day, sitting at a desk in an air-conditioned office. Psychologically, he is a highly-educated product of twentieth-century civilization, chained in a state of uneasy and hostile symbiosis, to a disturbingly dynamic unconscious, a wild phantasy and an unpredictable id-and yet, capable of falling in love, writing string quartets, and having mystical experiences.

One can't help but marvel at this deconstruction of the singularity of human existence. We exist simultaneously, inhabiting many contexts at the same time. It would be nothing short of extremely daunting, to properly 'adapt and overcome' in such a situation. Huxley offers the following, in continuation:

Living amphibiously in all these incommensurable worlds at once, human beings (it is hardly surprising) find themselves painfully confused, uncertain where they stand, or who they really are. To provide themselves with a recognizable identity, a niche in the scheme of things they can call "home", they will give assent to the unlikeliest dogmas, conform to the most absurd and even harmful rules of thought, feeling and conduct, put on the most extravagant fancy dress and identify themselves with masks that bear almost no resemblance to the faces they cover. "Bovarism" (as Jules le Gautier calls it) is the urge to pretend that one is something that in fact, one is not. It is an urge that manifests itself, sometimes weakly, sometimes with overpowering strength, in all human beings and one of the conditions of its manifestation is precisely our uncertainty of where we stand and who we are.

This is where education steps in to lend a helping hand. In coping, simultaneously. But, in Mr. Huxley's view, verbal education has made only little strides in the way of true progress. In the Middle Ages, the then modern education of liberal arts was predominantly verbal; it consisted of seven disciplines namely logic, grammar, rhetoric, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy and music. Geometry also included the sub-discipline of Natural History, the subject matter of which was taken verbatim from well-read encyclopedias: an overload of verbal, rife with plagiarism and repetition. Only in astronomy and music was there some novel knowledge pertaining to the non-verbal aspect. However, in those times music was also treated as verbal science, instead of essential non-verbal art. In the modern day, an education in the liberal arts is much less verbal than it used to be however, there is still a lot more effort that needs to be put in.

In his MIT research paper, Huxley provides us with the following definition for a good education: 

A good education may be defined as one which helps the boys and girls subjected to it, to make the best of all the worlds in which, as human beings, they are compelled, willy-nilly to live. An education that prepares them to make the best of only one of their worlds, or of only a few of them, is inadequate. 

It is thus the non-verbal form of education which best suits Huxley's amphibian. Only through learning by looking beyond written words on a page, and eliminating self-centred ego, can one adapt successfully to the multiverse around and within them, making good their escape from the pedagogy of herd mentality and dogma. It is this education, otherwise known as Progressive Education, that strikes a harmonious chord among the conscious self and the subconscious 'not-selves'. These are five in number. Let's go over them in detail.

I find myself absolutely enthralled by Huxley's delineation made between the conscious and the unconscious self and the detail in which he has described the 'not-selves' as he so proclaims. Even the categorization of 'not-self' is loaded with meaning. Couldn't help but be reminded once again of 'to be or not to be'. Huxley's concepts of self and non-self add an interesting extra layer to interpreting the whole thing; the choice of whether to stick to just the conscious self and adapt amongst similar sociable species on one plane of existence or tap into the subconscious not-selves and be 'at one' with a multitude of worlds other than that which one inhabits on the surface level, albeit at the cost of a compromised sanity. 

The 'not-selves' include first and foremost, the personal not-self: one of habits and conditioned reflexes, somewhat repressed impulses and reactions to events that have taken place, of fossil infancy and a hauntingly recurring past. This region of the subconscious falls within comprehensible patterns of individual mental health, and thus forms the basic subject matter of psychiatry. The second 'not-self' is that of the vegetative soul otherwise known as enetelechy. This is the part of the subconscious in charge of regulating bodily functions: motion, blood circulation, digestion etc. The third not-self is responsible for the enhancement of wisdom, both profound and arcane, as well as intellectual power. Beyond inspiration is the realm of the Jungian archetypes. These shared symbols, twelve in total, constituting the basis of what Carl Jung refers to as the 'collective unconscious', stand for a man's deepest tendencies, his enduring and recurring internal conflicts as well as the much real everyday problems that he may be so plagued by. These Archetypes are innately buit, and lend a proper psychological framework by which everyone can compartmentalize their reality, leading to all the more meaningful experiences. Jung's archetypes are in negation to the 'tabula rasa' theory of human psychological development, which states that humans are born with a 'blank slate' and their experiences shape their thoughts, feelings and behavior. Instead, the Archetypes, are universal intrinsic templates that manifest through evolutionary pressures IN the collective experience of all human beings. They are comprised of four main archetypes and 12 sub-archetypes including: (1) the persona (the different ways in which one presents themselves before society), (2) the shadow (the repressed internal ideas, weaknesses, desires and resentments), (3) the anima & the animus (the feminine and masculine parts of the male and female psyche respectively which give rise to sexual roles and gender identities) and (4) the self (unified consciousness, or the union of the conscious and the unconscious mind). The twelve sub-categories which may arise due to the intermingling of the main archetypes, known also as 'archetypal images' include: the ruler (seeks control), the artist (seeks innovation), the sage (seeks knowledge),  the innocent (seeks safety), the explorer (seeks freedom),  the outlaw/rebel (seeks to defy authority), the hero (seeks mastery), the magician/wizard (seeks power),  the jester (seeks pleasure),  the everyman (seeks belonging), the lover (seeks intimacy) and the caregiver (seeks to serve). 

Huxley's amphibian, through the lens of Jung's archetypes, is thus a truly fascinating psychoanalytical character study in its own right. The archetypes have also been said to represent a mystical shared wisdom passed down for generations.

After the 'not-self' of Archetypes and shared unconscious experiences, is the 'not-sef of  non-human facts and visionary experience, the not-self from where theologies and religions draw their ideas of cosmic other worlds such as Heaven and Hell. This is the stepping stone by which one becomes cognizant of the final universal not-self which has thus spawned all the former, that which has come to be known by many names such as the Holy Spirit, the Atman-Brahman, the Clear Light, Suchness, or simply, God. 

A man's conscious ability to reconcile his self with non-selves is what Huxley calls health. He reflects in elaborate detail as to the sheer destructive nature of the spiritual disorder that so befalls the individual, should the perfect harmony not be achieved leading to the development of negative personality traits. The consequent war between self and not selves inadvertently creates a society of mutually assured self-destruction, the ultimate dystopia. 

Some illuminating observations made by Huxley are on the nature of physical diseases which spread due to an individual's turbulent mental state. They are known as psycho-somatic diseases. A good example here would be that of Dr. John Watson's limp in Arthur Conan Doyle's world of Sherlock Holmes. Returning to London after a military campaign in Afghanistan, he developed a limp owing to the shell-shock (post-traumatic stress) of the war. Huxley specifically explains how such diseases develop, owing to a particular conflict between the self and the vegetative soul, which if the reader remembers, is the not-self in charge of bodily functions such as circulation, glandular secretions etc. Within an individual's gradually compromised conscious self responding to say external pressures specifically, the vegetative soul, not backed up the personal not-self, which to recap, is the baseline of our subconscious i.e. of conditioned impulses, habitual behavior etc, goes into overdrive, thinking that it has been left to fend for itself. This rogue physiological intelligence then compromises particular bodily functions in a bid to overcompensate for the lack of support it should normally be receiving. Thus, by educating about the applicability of his perfectly logical theorizing, Huxley fittingly defines health as the harmony between the individual's conscious self, the personal not-self, and the vegetative soul or rather, the trinity of individual not-selves. The last three not-selves, i.e. the not-self pertaining to Jungian archetypes, the not-self pertaining to sensory experiences through which theology or religion derives the idea of a creator, and who is also known as the final universal not-self, seem estranged from the individual yet are a part of him nonetheless. While the conscious and unconscious indwelling intelligences may occasionally override one another, it is they that are not affected by the unpredictability of the former, and hence continue to give cause to the individual to be more than themselves. They come as a shield between the conscious self and the more precarious not-selves despite their equally valid transcendental credentials. This is known as Enlightenment.        

The human body thus is simply a vessel, a 'psycho-physical instrument' which provides the expansive grounds for the interplay between the self and not-selves. What's required, is the training to keep the peace. 'Know thyself', said Pythagoras. Know thyself and look a little further within to know all, says Huxley. How does one explore those little intricacies within?  By observing the patterns in their muscular activity: sharpening their memory, keeping a check on the workings of their autonomic nervous system (controlling breathing, heart rate, digestion etc.) which, in summary, are all inwardly fuelled by the vegetative soul. It is this 'kinesthetic sense' that keeps the vegetative soul or the body, by extension, healthy. This psycho-physical education is a comprehensive stimulant for the soul to breathe. This is exactly the kind of non-verbal education that serves as a worthy replacement for the pedagogy of schooling techniques that are mentally and spiritually draining, where they are supposed to be dynamic and engaging. Huxley gives the examples of educationists like F.M Alexander and John Dewey to add unnecessary gravitas to a case already well-argued. By masterfully incorporating the agency of the human body in education, he successfully establishes the whole process as being both highly personalized and intellectually invigorating, at the same time.

The placement of the body as a 'psycho-physical instrument' is also deeply rooted in Eastern philosophies such as Zen Buddhism, which Huxley has taken a fancy to. F.M Alexander, whom Huxley references,  is concerned that schooling is oriented quite mischievously to achieve material ends, significantly discounting the means through which those ends are to be reached. In his research paper authored at MIT, as mentioned above, Huxley has this to say as something of a solution to this convenient trend:

At the end of a delightful anthology titled 'Zen Flesh, Zen Bones', its editor, Mr. Paul Reps, has printed an English version of an ancient Tantrik text in which Shiva, in response to Parvati's questions about the nature of enlightened consciousness, gives a list of one hundred and twelve exercises in the art of being aware of inner and outer reality, on its nonsymbolic levels. Gnosce Teipsum. But how? From the vast majority of our pastors and masters, no answer is forthcoming. Here, for a blessed change, is a philosophical treatise that speaks of means as well as of ends, of concrete experience as well as of high abstractions. The intelligent and systematic practice of any half-dozen of these hundred and twelve exercises will take one further towards the realization of the ancient ideal of self-knowledge than all the roaring and pathetic eloquence of generations of philosophers, theologists and moralists. 

Speaking of Zen philosophy, in the article  'Emptying Your Cup:Non-Verbal Awareness and General Semantics' authored by Dr. Bruce I. Kodish, he first defines the phrase 'emptying one's cup' as a Zen concept wherein should one wish to be educated in the ways of the profound, they must first unlearn their prior knowledge of everything as they had understood it. Then alluding to Aldous Huxley's amphibian concept where he treats the body as a 'psycho-physical instrument', he proves that it is essentially Zen-centric leading one to believe that Huxley, by virtue of his foray into Zen Buddhism and mystical wisdom, had also somewhat completely 'emptied his cup'.

Schooling, thus should take into consideration, the psychological factors that necessitate intellectual and spiritual growth as opposed to commercializing education as is the case in Pakistan. Conventionally 'good' evening tuition centres for children, in the final years of their matriculation, repeatedly focus too much of their energies simply on the cliche of '100% results guaranteed' and in being this insidiously ends-oriented, have devolved into institutionalized cash grabs. Incessant rote-learning, necessitated by the demanding nature of study and rigorous patterns of matriculation examinations as conducted annually by the Boards of Intermediate and Secondary Education (BISE), combined with mounting stress levels owing to additional peer and family pressures, takes a lot out of a student, even one with exceptional academic ability. Incentivizing students to perform to their best in periodical test sessions, is still insufficient of a means to cope with all the mental oppression, despite being a hallmark of the gross infiltration of capitalism that has so turned schools into factories employing a more or less disposable work force.

Contrary to this, we have progressive models of education in place in countries like Finland, where, the first priority is for the impressionable student as early as in kindergarten, to 'know how to learn'.It is strongly believed that such meta-learning is in itself, a life skill. The following system of schooling is in place as per Wikipedia:

   Schools up to the university level are almost exclusively funded and administered by the municipalities of Finland (local government). There are few private schools.Teachers, who are fully unionized, follow state curriculum guidelines but are accorded a great deal of autonomy as to methods of instruction and are even allowed to choose their own textbooks. Classes are small, seldom more than twenty pupils. From the outset pupils are expected to learn two languages in addition to the language of the school (usually Finnish or Swedish), and students in grades one through nine spend from four to eleven periods each week taking classes in art, music, cooking, carpentry, metalwork, and textiles. Small classes, insisted upon by the teachers' union, appear to be associated with student achievement, especially in science. Inside the school, the atmosphere is relaxed and informal, and the buildings are so clean that students often wear socks and no shoes. Outdoor activities are stressed, even in the coldest weather; and homework is minimal to leave room for extra-curricular activities. In addition to taking music in school, for example, many students attend the numerous state-subsidized specialized music schools after class.

Meanwhile, in Japan, the education system is more progressive with a provision for children with special needs The following is an excerpt from the website of the Japanese embassy in the United States of America:

Compulsory education begins with 6 years of elementary school and ends with 3 years of lower secondary school for a total of 9 years. Students then proceed to upper secondary school, which caters to children who have completed their compulsory education and is completed in 3 years. There is also an option to attend a secondary school after elementary school which combines lower and upper secondary education. In recent years, locales with smaller populations have been given the option to establish compulsory education schools which are schools that combine elementary and lower secondary schools. Schools for special needs education are for children with comparatively severe disabilities and aim at giving an education suited to their individual educational needs. These schools are divided into four levels consisting of kindergarten, elementary, lower and upper secondary. Special needs education may also be provided to students with milder disabilities attending regular elementary and lower secondary schools through either enrolling in smaller-sized special classes or visiting resource rooms a few times a week for supplemental instruction.

Lastly, the Singaporean education system is perhaps the most innovative of all. After six years of primary education, children are required to give the Primary School Leaving Examination (PSLE) which, after dividing them into flexible categories, determines the level at which further streams of secondary education would be taken on, in accordance with mental aptitude of the students. They can choose from multiple pathways, based off of their strengths. Aside from a proper focus on co-curricular activities and an overall holistic approach to personality development, this system gives students the agency to be the drivers of their own paths to enlightenment. Furthermore, there is legislation such as the Compulsory Education Act in place which charges parents in case they fail to enroll their children in school or ensure their regular attendance.

To conclude, we can see Huxley's far-sighted approach to education manifest in the systems of Finland, Japan and Singapore respectively, which give a wide berth to individual growth alongwith the acquisition of worldly knowledge. There are such men as Huxley, like the interesting case of the professor who qualified Winston Churchill for a prestigious education at Eton, despite him writing only his name and 'Question No. 1' on his answer sheet. Conversely in Pakistan, the measure of academic capability is in the number of answer sheets alone, irrespective of mental growth, which in turn only breeds discontent and escapism.