Many years ago, my father introduced me to a quote by Aristotle that went like this, “Dignity consists not in possessing honours, but in the consciousness that we deserve them.” I was very young at the time and could not quite grasp what this meant entirely. He tried to explain it to me, and perhaps at some level, he was successful. Sometimes we do not quite comprehend explanations until we have a frame of reference, or an experience that allows us to truly internalise their meaning. But lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about dignity and what it means. As one of the central pillars of identity, it drives so much of an individual’s behaviour and so much of our personality that to anyone seeking to understand societies, coming to grips with this notion is essential. To the extent that the desire to be ‘dignified’ can elevate man by encouraging him to magnify his virtuous qualities, it is a powerful idea that can be used by sages, leaders, and teachers to guide individuals and reform societies.
When Aristotle proclaimed that dignity consisted in the “consciousness that we deserve honours”, what he meant was that we feel dignified only when we are internally content that we have in fact earned the right to the honours bestowed upon us. It is one thing to merely possess an object, an accolade or a title, and quite another to experience the moral satisfaction that comes from knowing you truly deserve it. A usurper who wears a crown and has subjects kneel before him knows in his heart that he is, essentially, a usurper. He may possess an honour but that does not transform his self-identity. When he wears a crown, devoid of dignity, the actions he takes are not those of a man internally content, of a man who seeks to ‘maintain his dignity’. He may have all the wealth in the world but his actions are graceless, because in his own mind his fall from grace has already taken place. Such a man, in a position of power, is a danger to society.
Just as an individual can feel dignified or otherwise, an institution can be perceived as having dignity too. In the case of the latter, the consciousness Aristotle talks about is not to be found in the masonry and woodwork of its buildings, but in the memory and perception of those human beings who are connected to the institution, those who have served it, are served by it, have expectations of it or are obligated to it. The dignity of an institution is carefully built over a long period of time and inherited by new generations of leaders, employees, stakeholders and others who belong to it. Yet it serves much the same purpose as in the case of an individual: that of a moral compass.
Recent events reminded me of the importance of dignity and how hollow station and stature are rendered when they are divorced from it. When the British ruled the subcontinent and much of the rest of the world, one of the unfortunate things they indulged in was what can only be called the theft and displacement of jewels, artifacts, historic documents and other valuables from all the territories they occupied. That is why when you visit museums in London you see sarcophagi from Egypt that you cannot see when you visit Cairo. As the various nations that were previously under colonial rule gained their independence, they requested the British government to return these treasures, which held not just monetary value, but national and cultural significance too. These requests fell on deaf ears. Take the famous case of the Koh-e-Noor (Mountain of light) diamond, for example. Once the largest diamond in the world, the Koh-e-Noor was ‘confiscated’ by the British East India Company in Lahore in 1850 and taken to London where it became part of the Crown jewels. Later, it was cut to a fraction of its size and is presently found set in the Crown of Queen Elizabeth. Many in India have requested the British government to return this diamond. Requests were made during the state visit of the Queen in 1997 and during the 2013 visit of the British Prime Minister, David Cameron. It was, in fact, Mr Cameron’s recent visit and the exchange he had on the subject of the Koh-e-Noor that I found particularly illustrative. When asked whether the British government would finally return the diamond to India, the Prime Minister of Great Britain chose to diminish himself, or to simply share more of his true character, by defending a posture obviously devoid of any moral standing. Mr. Cameron retorted, “I certainly don’t believe in return-ism, as it were. I don’t think that’s sensible.” In the blink of an eye, a man ‘possessing honours’, pretending to stand on high ground just three days prior when he declared that he was visiting India to forge one of “the great partnerships of the 21st century”, was reduced to justifying theft and reminding two billion people, if not seven, that the institution he was representing was in severe need of a dignity makeover. After a performance such as this one wonders whether far from lecturing nations and institutions, Mr Cameron has even preserved sufficient moral standing to look a petty thief in the eye and demand the return of stolen wares. Don’t all thieves, petty or otherwise, subscribe to the ‘no return-ism’ philosophy?
The other event reminding us of the importance of dignity transpired in the aftermath of His Holiness Pope Benedict’s decision to abdicate his duties as Pontiff and Bishop of Rome. The Church has been rocked by a child abuse scandal over the last few years. Bad things happen everywhere, in every society and every environment. They are certainly not unique to the Roman Catholic Church. However, there is one particular aspect of how the election of the new Pope is being handled that is raising concern even within elements of the Catholic community. And this again has to do with the core notion of dignity, with Aristotle’s sense of the consciousness that we deserve honours. It so happens that several members of the 117-member strong College of Cardinals that will vote in the new Pope at the Vatican have had their reputations tainted greatly by the ongoing child abuse scandal and various criminal investigations. Should an institution of such long standing, which seeks to preserve its dignity, allow itself to be undermined by muddying the waters so? Should the new Pope be elected by people such as Cardinal Mahoney, a man who was deposed just days ago in a case involving a Mexican priest accused of raping 29 children? Will this allow Pope Benedict’s successor to uphold the sense of individual and institutional dignity as Aristotle defined it?
Aristotle’s remarks on dignity do not merely define and explain the notion, they shed light on how it must be seen if it is to be a force driving virtue in society. To that end, perhaps we need to explain to our children that dignity is not something that is derived from the wearing of a finely tailored suit, a pompous gait or a crown placed upon the head. It can only stem from deep within our hearts, from the very private, personal feeling we experience when we know we truly deserve an ‘honour’. Whether the universe then cooperates and lays that honour at our doorstep is quite another matter, and in the grand scheme of things, perhaps even of trivial importance. Because possession is not the well from which dignity is drawn; it is found flowing freely only at the spring of moral contentment.
The writer is an inventor and technology entrepreneur involved with businesses in the US and Pakistan