Download - Transperancy - A Way of Looking at People

8/12/2019 Transperancy - A Way of Looking at People

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TransparencyA W A Y O F L O O K I N G A T P E O P L E

B Y G E O R G E S A R T O NAu thor of " Th e Message of Leon ardo," "Science and Style , " e tc .

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FIRST met him a fewyear s before t he war inSaint-Guenole, the little harbor of the mediaevalcity of Pem narc'honce flourishing butnow almost deadinone of the most melancholy and grandest pa rts of Britt any . Hewas a charming boy of about twenty, astude nt of music. We me t on the beachon a cold and gloomy day, when we alonehad spirit enough to bat he. H e was asexuberant and irrepressible as a youngfawn, outspoken and indiscreet, and Iknew his theories of life before I knew hisnam e. H e spoke impulsively, with greatvigor and clarity, witho ut ever the slightest hesitation. H e did not seem to paymuch attention to what I said, or if hedid, he would brush my objections asidewith such impertinent serenity that I was

too wonder-struck to resent it. He wouldbluntly make the most bewildering statements with the utmost candor, and thenlater he would announce, after carefulpreparation and apparently with muchless confidence, some commonplace ideaswhich he had bu t just discovered. It wasobvious that he would take nothing forgranted, except perhaps some extraordinary fancy of the mom ent. I havenever heard anybody utter more foolishand wise talk, all mixed up, in the samespace. M y friend Jean for such was thelad's name, as I found out after we hadalready exchanged the most sacred confidencesmy friend Jean shocked meoften, he hurt me sometimes, but I lovedhim none the less, and a n hou r's talk w ithhim invigorated me like a bath in theheavy surf of Saint-Guenole.

The poor boy died a few months laterin a railway accident, but even to the d ayof my own departure, I will see him asdistinctly as I saw him then, when we308

were discussing on the rocks, mindless ofthe sun which burned our skins, of theocean hammering the cliffs and sometimes jumping high enough to give us awet kiss. He is standing nea r me evennow as I write ; sometimes he speaks tom e; when I me et new peop le, he clingsas it were to my arm, holding or withholding my han d, and I hear him w hisper:"This is a real man, that is a fake."Sometimes when my duty is not quiteclear to me, or when I seem too slow indoing it, he will shake me and put me toshame, and then I can no longer hesitate.It was almost by accident that I methim. I had been travelling southwardalong this fantastic coast. Th e "He ll ofPlogoff, the "Bay of the Dead," andother scenes which do not belie theirnames, had keyed my soul to a very highpitch. Pen ma rc'h was the aim of m ypilgrimage, and I had reached it on theprevious day, but a hasty reconnoissancehad driven me ahno st to despair. Thisshore was so desolate, the rocks of suchtragic grandeur, the ocean so ill-temperedand boisterous, the contrast between theemerald waters and the bare stones soviolent, the red carpets of goemon* hadsuch an acrid smell thatin the mood towhich I had been gradually broughtitwas more than my sensibihty could endure. I would have run away on thesame eve, if it had been possible, but

I had spent my last money arrivingthere and was now obhged to wait onthe spot until more ammunition camefrom home. When the money finally arrived, I was acclimatized, I had becomeinured to the vehement soUtude of theplace; the ghosts of old Penmarc'h hadgiven me up a nd the awful landscape hadno more terrors for me . The re remainedonly supreme and rare beauty to be en-* Various seaweeds thrown up on the shore.


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T R A N S P A R E N C Y 3 0 9joyed, and my young friend had cast aspell around me. We spent togethermany weeks, and the ardent conversations of those summer days have leftmarks in my heart, never to be defaced.It is because of my friendship with thisyoung man , who is even now my consta ntcompanionone more faithful than myvery shadeand who will ever be asyoung as he was when we first met inBrittany (for it is only the hving thatgrow old), that I feel in me such an immense respect for children and for thevery young boys and girls. I mean thosewho have not yet passed the crisis ofadolescence and are still in that mostperilous stage, apparently as helpless assoft-shell crabs. Th e com bination ofyouth and wisdom is immensely impressive, for such premature wisdom is necessarily genuine. Th is com bination is notrare by any means, and many children,indeed, are uncomfortably wise. The yam aze me . Their ignorance is, of course,tremendous, their uncouthness obvious,they may be ill-mannered, they may lackreverence to a degree and make fun ofthe things most sacred to me, yet, whenthey are well-born, their wisdom is uncanny . Tell me, where did they get it?I try to imagine myseK when I was stillin my soft shell, and , 0 Go d how foolishand yet how weirdly wise I appear tob e Of course, I know more now th anI did then; I have learned to keep mymore heterodox thoughts to myself andto let them mature very slowly beforeventilating them; I am far more prudent and thorough, bu t am I wiser? Idou bt it. I have become more considerate ; I have learned to behave more orless, but am I better? Will I be bet tertwen ty years hence? I dou bt it. Weseem to become wiser simply because wemistake experience, or mere cautiousness,for true wisdom.

We are constantly deceived in our judgments of men by our inveterate habit ofattaching too much importance to valueswhich are merely external and accidental.We ma y not be so crude as to judge peopleby their clothes, and we may take pridein this even when what we are doing ishardly better. We judge them by theirmanners, by their learning, by theirwealth, by their position in the world.

Min d you, when we are speaking of the min any one of these respects, too often wemean to judge the ma n; we think th at wehave really fathomed him, or, as you say,tha t we have " sized him up ." We do notrealize tha t w hat we have been doing is inmos t cases as illusive as if w e ha d measured his shadow.To my young friend people seemed absolutely transparent, and his opinion ofthem was entirely independent of the accidents of their lives. His judg me nt wasswift, clean-cut, intoler ant, final. I donot believe that he was always right, yetI would have had more faith in him thanin a whole academ y of experts. Wh en heseemed to me particularly severe or evenunjust, I would sometimes object: "B u tdon 't you know th at h e wrote an excellentbook on this or tha t, full of knowledge an dtenderness? Do n't you remember hisgenerosity in such and such a circumstance? Did he not look kind and cand i d ? " . . . Jea n would simply answ er:"N eve r mind how he looked. Nevermind wh at he did or did not. Th e thingth at ma tters is what he really is. Adeed is important only to the extent thatit is genuine. One can ac t generouslywithout being generous or speak of lovewithout loving. I do notlikeh im." Th atsettled it. I knew there was no use indiscussing longer, and I knew , too, th at innine cases out of ten , Jea n was right , deadright.

Since my friend's death, I have had towalk alone and to struggle a great deal;I have made and shed many new shells;I have lost and built man y illusions; Ihave beheved in ma ny shibboleths; Ihave abandoned many prejudices only tofall into new ones; I ha ve sinned andsuffered; I have loved and hate d . . . andI am still active and strong, thoughweather-beaten, ready to love more and,if needs be, to ha te vigorously, I hav eslowly discovered one after another theeternal truths, the hallowed commonplaces, which millions of people ha ve discovered before m e. M y discoveries arenot less genuine for th at, b ut wh at I takemost pride in, is to have discoveredatleast I believe somy young friend'ssecret. People are transpare nt to me.The y may tr y to fool me; their souls maytry to play hide-and-seek with mine; bu t


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310 T R A N S P A R E N C Yit is to no avail. I see them in their pristine nakedness; my eyes know no mercy.

What is this secret? . . . I will tr y toexplain it to you as soon as I am sure thatwe unde rstand one another. I would liketo talk with you first. You would choosethe subject of our conve rsation. Wemight talk of the weather, of our childrenor of the political problems of the day, ofart or science, as you please. It w ould notma ke mu ch difference. Inde ed, youmight think that I am not hstening toyou, for I would seem very inattentive.Maybe I would not hear half the thingsyou would say, and I would answer likeone who speaks in his sleep. T ha t wouldnot mean indifference, for I would be listening all the tim e, though n ot necessarilyto the things that you said, but rather tothose which you did not say, to thosewhich you might have said but left unspoken. De tach ed as I seem, m y soul isanxiously ben t upon yours. Your lipsmay be silent or speak nonsense, but youreyes wiU speak, your very finger-tips willbetra y you. Th e factjis, tha t you arevery obviously wh at you are. Do nottry to fool m e, for you can 't. Th e bestactor cannot impersonate another character all the time . It is as difEcult for anhonest man to tell consistent lies as foran inveterate liar to tell the truth . Ofcourse, it is easy enough to fool a fewpeople for a short time, especially ina field in which they themselves arestrangers. A boor ma y succeed in mak ing other boors take him for a dandy, oran ignorant man may be passed off for apundit before an assembly of men moreignorant thanhimself. But that is hardly to the point, for what I mean is simplythat no individuality can be successfullyhidden for a considerable time from anycom petent and atten tive observer. Aman's speeches may conceal him for amom ent like the smoke screen of a b attle ship; his gallant carriage and refinedmanners may leave the impression thathis is, indeed, a refined perso nality. Orelse his education ma y put us tem porarilyon the wrong scent. Hap pily, educationis never more than a varnish. The re ma ybe many coats of it, but, deep or shallow,varnish it is; it cannot affect a man'ssubstance. Th e selfishness and bru tah ty

of an educated man may be less blatant,but it is there all the same.Thus when I am talking with people, 1hear at once two voices: the materialvoice littering the symbohc sounds of thelanguage which happe ns to be the vehicleof our thoughtsand another voice, immaterial and undefinable but, if you hearit at all, far more distinct and, to be sure,more trustworthy . And for all the world,these two voices may contradict one anoth er For example, one speaks to meeloque ntly of his disinterestedness. I t isa mania with him: his words always aresweet and generous, yet I descry his ugly,selfish soul non e th e less. An othe r calledupon me and talked business and moneyall the time. H e is very poor and as hehas not the knack of making his greattalent profit himseK, he finds it very hardto solve the practical problems of hfe."How much would the editor pay him?Was such a contract fair to h im ?" Astranger might have thoug ht th at he hadno other interest in his work, but his soulbehed his every wo rd. An y shrewd business man must see that as clearly as Idid, and it would be easy enough for himto let my friend talk business, and at thesame time to take full advantage of hiscomplete lack of business instiact, toleave him with all the dream and theglory, and run away with most of the"substantific ma rrow ." This other ma n,dressed like a mendicant, speaks of humility and seems to enjoy his self-abasemen t. Ye t his imm oderate pride is shining through every hole of his garm ent. Itis a more pleasant surprise to discover occasionally behind her mask the intenseseriousness of a society wom an. She isnot aware of itherself, or else she wouldnot idle her life away as she does, but hersoul speaks too clearly to remain entirelyunnoticed. Some mu st hear it, this persistent little voice, and m aybe, some day,she will hea r itherself. This silly bu tterfly is at the b ottom a good woman, a goodmother, but she is handicapped by thepossession of more wealth a nd leisure t ha nshe can bear; she needs only pov erty andsuffering to realize and bring to light herreal self. "Of all unf ortun ates," remarked Stevenson, "there is one creatureconspicuous in misfortune. Th is is hewho has forfeited his birthr igh t of expres-


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T R A N S P A R E N C Y 3 1 1sion, who has cultivated artful intonat ions, who has taught his face tricks hkea pe t mo nke y." Bu t even this wretch ofa snob is not as depersonaUzed as heseems. Ha rd as he ma y try to mak eothers an d himself beheve th at h e is something different from what he really is, thesnob is not less transparent for that.Once his snobbery has been piercedthrough, he is as unable to hide his realself as any professional actor. H e maypose as an artist, but he will only succeedin proving to the real ones that he is notone of them; he may impersonate anyhero,bu t somehow the stuff h e is built ofwill always show through.

I never cease to admire the indelibilityof hu m an na tur e. I t does no t wear off.Whatever they may do, men are and remain wh at they are. Th ey ma y deceivethemselves; they may deceive others,especially the short-sighted ones, thosewho cann ot look from the proper distance.Thus the surface of the sea seems quitedark when you are very near to it, but ifyou chm b into th e crow's-nest, you will seehow clear the water is; and the higheryou go the deeper you see.If you have learned to contemplatelife in its true perspective, how transpar ent, how beautiful it becom es Th istransp arency is, indeed, the very spice oflife. Among the man y splendors of natu re , what could be more impressive,more delightful than the infinite varietyof the m en and women whopass,mix, andplay before our eyes? Birds are prettyenough, and there seems to be no end tothe beauty and fantasy of their plumage,bu t what of wom en what of m en Canthere be anything under the sun morecomplex, more varied, more full of problems and enigmas of all kinds than thesoul of m an ? Th e my stery seems bottomless, for even if we were to understand each soul in itself, we would stillbu t be at its threshold. For we wouldnot yet know how each of these soulswould react upon the others. Each possible combination, each pair of souls,opens a new vista of endless secrecy.

How beautiful is life seen from aboveHow innocent and lovable are menevery one of themfrom a distan ce T obe su re, if one comes nearer, one finds th atthey are not all equally good, but one for

gets it easily if one has enough understanding and love. From a higher pointof view, sins are like spots in the landscape; they are not necessarily ugly.Each of them contributes its little shareto the picturesqueness of the ensemble;a few small dissonances are of no accountin the grand harmo ny of the world. Iremember having read that in the NearEast some fountains along the countryroads aie contrived in such ingeniousfashion that while the passer-by pumpsa drink for himself, a hundredfold morewater escapes on the other side into thethirsty fields. Is this not a good imageof rea hty ? Does natu re not use everyman in a similar way ? However self-seeking, no one can accomplish his pettyaims without helping and serving others.

Some men have a definite purpose;others pursue a will-o'-the-wisp; somego straight, others change their course atevery stage. Perh aps it is better so. Ifall had a reasonable aim and went straightat it and never made an excursion, if allpursued the same wise course, withoutany sally or truancy, without relaxation,the human comedy would be far less interesting and life would become intenselydull. Such danger, however, hardly exists,and, tha nks to God, there will alwaysbe enough fools and rogues to play theodd pa rts. Th e purpose of ma nkind issufficiently fulfilled if the main caravantravels in the right direction, howeverslowly. Th ere is no reason to hu rry, forthe journey is very long and each of uscan but do an infinitely small portion ofit.Sometimes we travel in the dark, butthe darkness never lasts very long. Weare soon surrounded from everywhere bybrave little souls shining like stars in thesky. M any of the stars tha t we see ma yhave long ceased to exist, but they arenot less briUiant for tha t. Th ey guideand cheer and help us wait for the sunriseand the joy of a new day, of a new hope.How beautiful are the starry heavens of asummer nig ht Th e brav e httle souls ofthe millions of good men and women whosurround us and help us by their verypresence, are not less beautiful. I wishI could thank and love personally everyone of them. Bu t this is the vainest ofall wishes, and we approach here the


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3 1 2 T R A N S P A R E N C Ygreatest tragedy of human lifethe factthat our personal relations are so terribly-restricted.

It is because life is in the main so trans parent that it is so beautiful and so richin joy. Transp arency has two faces: sincerity and trust, and the structure of society implies their existence. W itho utthem no social organization would holdtogethe r. Th ink of how mu ch your life,every detail of it as well as the essential,depe nds on coirfidence. If we can tru stour fellow men imphcitly, we feel safeand hap py ; if distru st enters our soul,we are uncomfortable,and soon distressed.Even the most critical scientist is obligedto accept most facts on faith, though hisfaith is never blind and his acceptance always subject to revision. And, to takeanother example at the other end of thehuman scale, the crooks themselves couldnot carry on their business to any extent,if they could not trust, nor be trusted, ifthere were no honesty left in the world.The necessities of life obhge us to trust,not simply our friends and associates, butalso the very strangers whom every newday places on our pa th. Tru st is the veryessence of happiness, and it is made outof the sincerity, the transparency of ourneighbors.

Social progress is fundam entally a progress in veracity of thought and action.One might classify the peoples of theworld according to their respect for truth,and this would give one a fair idea of th eirhierarchy in the scale of civilization. Astransparency increases, social relationsof every kind become smoother and morepleasant. Justice and kindliness thrivebes t in the dayligh t. Bu t even this willnot satisfy the scientist, for his quest oftruth is so imperative that to be happyhe needs to achieve a transparency of ahigher order. His purpo se is to unfoldthe veils of natu re, to penetra te nearer toher bosom, to increase the light everywhere, to chase out the b ats which live inthe dark corners, to destroy the superstitions and fears which paralyze menand hinder their advance. Th e historyof mankind is essentially that of a longwarfare against darkness and ignorance,and the scientists form the vanguard ofthe army as it slowly marches and re

deems new fields from th e unkno wn. Asone of the greatest of conquerors, Napoleon, once remarked (and he certainlyknew wh at he was talking abo ut) : " Th eonly conquests which are permanent andleave no regrets, are our conquests overignorance."But I hear you say: "Where is thesecret which you promised to disclose?What sort of magic did your friend teachy o u ? " . . . Well, if you have followedme thus far, dear reader, without impatience, I think I can tell it to you.Th ere is no magic in it. It is exceedinglysimple: The world will be transparent toyou to the extent of your own transparency. Be candid and candor will growand thrive around you. Be trustful and

the people will trus t you. Be genuineand the snobs will run away from you likera ts , as you approach. If you wan t tosee clearly, insist on mo re light. D on 'tlet the muddle-headed people who try toconceal their ignorance in obscurity impose upon you. D o no t subscribe to loosestatements; do not accept vague ideals;do not worship unknow n gods. Onemeets nowadays lots of well-meaningpeople whose main business is to "uplift " their neighbo rs. The irs is possiblya generous intention. For my pa rt, I donot mind being uplifted, but I do not liketo be left in the air. If they mu st lift meupall right, I am only too willingbutthey shall give me something that I cangrasp or hold to, something tangible.

The most transparent people are themo st lovable. Be simple and you will beadorable. Do not try to be somethingelse; if you pose as being bet ter, yo u willnot be better, bu t worse. Th e greatestobstacle to our transparency and indirectly to our happiness lies in our beingtoo easily pleased with ourselves. Ea chtime that we approve of ourselves, a littledanger-signal should appear in our conscience. If, after hav ing done some gooddeed, you pat yourself on the shoulder, soto say, beware1 If you reach the pointof believing that you are good, you arehalf lost; if.you think tha t you are bette r,you are ill; if you think that you arebestalas, it simply means that you arerotte n. I am not inventing these things.I am speaking from personal experience,


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T R A N S P A R E N C Y 313for I have gone through these successivestate s of mind, time after tim e; nor amI yet immune.For him who is simple and does notpretend to be anything but what he isindeed, the hearts of other men andwomen are clear like crystal. Jea n didno t tell me any other secret. In fact, itis no secret. It is perfectly plain. As hewould put it in his own quaint manner:" If you wish to see people as they reallyare, it is enough to take away from themeverything which is accidental and external, to do as if those things had neverexisted, as if those accidents had neveroccurre d." Or, more blun tly, for he enjoyed giving to his thoughts a paradoxical,or shocking tu rn: "T o see them naked, itsufhces to undress them . If the y havemillions, imagine that they have lost them(such things happen easily enough); ifthey have titles, try for a moment to forget them . Tr y to consider the man , thenaked man, without any regard for hisoffice, or his wealth, or his relations, orhis pow er. W ha t sort of fellow is hethe n? Does he still att ract you or doeshe repulse you? Follow this imp ulse, foryou m ay be sure it is the right , the hones tone."

Said Ruskin: "That virtue of originality that men so strain after is not newness, as they vainly think (there is nothing new ), it is only genuinen ess." T ha tgenuineness of which Ruskin spokeisnotvery different from what I call transparency, though my term is more comprehensive. All people are more or less tran sparen t, though few be genuine. M any,regardless of their own indisputablegrace, try to hide themselves under alienclothes. Th ey do not succeed in hidinganything; they simply forfeit their highest privilege, their birthright of originality . Genuine people, however hum ble,are always interesting, for there are notwo people alike in the world, and each,if he behimself, has something importantto tell and teach. W hat we call genius islargely extreme genuineness. The re arepeople who are so fundam entally simple

that they are no longer embarrassed byall the irrelevant details which obscurethe outlook of the average m an ; they seethe essential at the iirst glance and gostraigh t to it. For instance, the scientistof genius is not necessarily more intelligent in other respects, but he has thatuncanny faculty of perceiving distinctly,among an infinity of futile questions, theone problem which is crucial and, maybe, the mean s of solving it. Th e geniusof the artist is also to a large extent theabiUty to simplify a vision which millionsof other people may otherwise share withhim. It is typical enough th at the evolution of most great artists has proceededfrom original complexity and luxurianceto increasing simplicity. Th ink of Rem bran dt, of Ha ls, of Velasq uez We canalmost date their works with this singleprinciple as our guide. Ho kusai tried toexpress the same idea when he wistfullywrote:* "All that I have accompKshedbefore I was seventy is not worth mentioning. I was seventy-three when I began to understand the arrangement ofnature, the structure of animals, herbs,trees, birds, fishes, and insects. Hence ,by the time that I am eighty, I will haveadvanced even further; at ninety , I willpenetrate the mystery of things; at ahundred I will have arrived at somethingmarvelous, an d when I reach th e age ofone hundred and ten years, everything inmy work, be it a dot or a line, will bealive. I ask thos e who will live as long asmyself to see whether I keep my word.". . . He meant, of course, that as hegrew older, his knowledge, his power ofsynthesis, would be developed to such adegree that every stroke of his brushwould be pregnant and only a few wouldsuffice to express completely his message.The transparency of genius is, asit were, the transparency of the race.Whenever a man of genius intervenesand says quietly a few words, it is as ifnew windows were suddenly opened uponthe unknown, as if man had made suddenly a great leap forward in his eternalquest for more light and more beauty.*Preface to the "Hu ndred Views of Fujiyama," 1835.

V O L . L X X V I I . 2 3


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Humaniz ing Indus t ryTHE WORK OF THE NATIONAL INSTITUTE OF INDUSTRIAL PSYCHOLOGY(GREAT ^BRITAIN)

BY CH AR LE S S . M Y ER S, Sc .D . , F . R . S .Director of the Institutei |N February ii, 1921,after about two yearsof prepara t ion , theNational Institute ofIndustrial Psychology(Great Britain) w as incorporated asan Association for PromotingScience. Th e title of the institute may

not fully indicate the scope of its work.The word " industr ial" is intended to include "commercial," and, indeed, everykind of occupational work. Th e word"psychology" is used to cover the studynot only of the mentalprocesses, but alsoof the relevant bodily activities involvedin any vocation. Th us, industrial psychology is concerned w ith th e en tire fieldof human labor; it approaches the problem of industry from the human standpoint.We may regard the nineteenth centuryas the age of mechanism in industrial history: it was the age of the invention andconstruction of machines, during whichthe worker had to a dap t himself as best hecould to the mach ine. Th e engineer hadlittle consideration for, and, indeed, scantknowledge of the demands of, the humanorganism. Little was known abou t, andhttle attention was given to, such problems as the best position of the levers andtreadles of a machine in regard to thelimbs of the worker, the regulation of theheight of working m aterials in relation t o

the worker's stature, the most effectivemovements, methods of selection andtraining of the worker, the most effectivelengths of the work-spell or shift, etc.To provide, to apply, to spread suchknowledge, the National Institute wasfounded. Its work m ay be ranged unde rseven main heads:(i) Tlie determination of the best conditionsof work in factories, oflSces, etc., especially in

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regard to_ i) the elimination of needless movements, ii) the most advantageous distributionof periods of work and rest, (m) the reduction ofmonotony, increase in interest, etc ., iv)the influence of lighting, temperature, humidity, seating,etc.(2) The formulation and introduction of systematized scientific methods for the training ofthe young worker in his vocation.(3) The elaboration and apphca tion of suitablephysiological and psychological tests, so as tosecure i) more efficient and scientific selection ofworkers, and ii)more rehable guidance for adolescents when choosing their occupation.(4) The improvement in incentives to workand in relations between management and labor.(5) The stu dy of the hum an factors influencingthe sale of products, e.g., advertisement, designing.(6) The provision of suitable lectures on theabove subjects for employers, managers, foremen,and welfare-workers, and for workers generally.(7) The encouragement and co-ordination ofresearch work in the above-mentioned subjectsthroughout the United Kingdom, and the publication of the facts established by research in aform which wiU indicate their practical value.

In accordance with the constitution ofthe institute, its entire income has to beapplied in extending its activitiesnot inthe payment of dividends to its members.From its initiation many firms and private individuals have offered it liberalfinancial support, and the trustees of theCarnegie United Kingdom Trus t have annually made a generous grant from itsfunds which are used to assist undertakings having as their aim the well-being ofthe masses.The institute arose out of a letter addressed to me in 1918 by M r. H . J. W elch,a directo r of the well-known firm of Ha rrisons & Crosfield, L td . I was at th at timeengaged in the prep aration of ce rtain lectures to be delivered before the Royal Inst i tut ion on "The Present-Day Apphca-tions of Modern Psychology," and hadalready begun to realize the future importance of industrial psychology. Littlepersuasion was therefore needed for me to

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