Grace, Damian. "Utopia: A Dialectical Interpretation."

Moreana, no. 100 (1989): 274-302
DAMIAN
GRACE
Utopia: A Dialectical Interpretation
I
N A FINE STUDYOF MORE'S ugenius for dialogue," Gerrnain Marc'hadour has shown how this capacity draws from both the character of its exponent and his education in humanism and the law.' This
is the More "born for friendshipwwhose dialogues are conducted in
intimate, civil and persuasive conversation, qualities often denied him
in controversies of a more ~ u b l i cand intense nature. It is to this subtle, beguiling More that we must attend, in the spirit of A b k Marc'hadour, if we are to grasp the meaning of so compact a text as
Utopia.' This paper essays such a reading suggesting that the tactical
ambiguities and paradoxes characteristic of Utopia make it dialectical
in a sense understood by its immediate audience, and productive of
a wide variety of interpretations since.
The puzzles of Utopia extend from the lexical to the formal. The
names of the island, its places, cults, and officials have elusive etymol~ g i e s the
; ~ topography and demography are specified in contradicti on^;^ a favourite authorial device is litotes;' and in form, the book
is a combination of dialogue and discourse. The author places himself
inside the text, both as interlocutor and narrator, and yet remains
the creator of the whole. And, if we follow Hexter's brilliant reconstruction of the composition of Utopia, it appears to be the result of
at least two sets of intentions, which correspond roughly to Book I
and II.6 The wise traveller, Raphael Hythlodaeus, is a Portuguese yet
possesses a fittingly Utopian name,' perhaps to indicate that Utopia
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is not s o far from Europe as might be supposed. His journey to an
antipodean Nowhere lies somewhere between the voyages of discovery of Vespucci and the interminable navigations of the ships of fools,
yet the book's parerga invite favourable comparison with Plato.'
The response of the interpreter to these ironies and ambiguities is
also a response to the politics of Utopia. It may be viewed as a conventional critique of the issues of the time wedded to a jeu d'esgn't,
calculated perhaps to win preferment for the author with the reformminded Cardinal Wolsey: or as a radical critique of nascent bourgeois society anticipating a Marxist solution in the common ownership of property;'0or as a warning against idealism, rationalism and
the abuse of God's providence;'' or, most recently, a methodologically sophisticated imitation of a Greek best-commonwealth exercise.''
Such variety should be something of a critical scandal, for Utopia
manages quite well to accommodate all manner of contrary readings.
It is a mirror not only of aspects of eariy sixteenth century Europe,
but of the social, religious and political views of later interpreters. Its
curious open-endedness invites readers to join issue with Hythlodaeus
at the conclusion of his discourse. More does not deny us that opportunity b y foreclosing: Utopia remains, in the coinage of K. J. Wilson,
an "incomplete fiction."13
In order to appreciate the nature of this open-endedness, it is necessary to identify the problems with which More was concerned as he
wrote his libellus. The obvious place to look is Book I, even though
its critique of Europe has long worn the burnish of familiarity.
Book I contains two dialogues, one within the other. The outer dialogue recounts a conversation amongst Raphael, Peter Giles and Morus
during the latter's visit to Antwerp in 1515. Raphael's widely informed
conversation prompts Peter to ask why he does not become counsellor to some king and thereby bring profit to himself, his friends and
relations, and, not least, to the commonwealth. Raphael replies with
a stinging attack on the foolishness of kings and courtiers, thus raising the problem of good counsel in a wicked world (55-59). This
problem is illustrated in Raphael's account of a conversation at the
table of Cardinal Morton, itself replete with a variety of topics and
sub-themes.
This inner dialogue begins with Raphael challenging the views of
a lawyer who is puzzled that the strict punishments for theft have not
reduced its rate. Raphael denounces capital punishment for property
crimes as too harsh, and proceeds to an analysis of social decay which
relates crime not to personal fault so much as to structured abuses.
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Eventually all evils will be identified as the progeny of pride (243), but
here Raphael argues that sin is the consequence, not the proximate
cause, of social abuses.
Stealing is shown to be the only course open to increasing numbers
of people who have no other means to secure a livelihood. Many of
them have been maimed in wars, and being now useless for their former
occupations, must beg or steal to get by. Yet, as Raphael remarks, You
never have war unless you choose itn (65132-33). The problem lies in
persuading belligerent rulers that they and their kingdoms are better
served by renouncing violence (89-91).
To the hardships imposed by war must be added those of idleness
in peace. The retinues which mark the status of noblemen produce
nothing of value to society, and are not fitted by training or habits
of life to do so. When their masters have no use for them or they fall
sick they swell the numbers of vagrants, beggars and robbers (63). Nor
are these the oii1-y so'irces of socia! b!ight. Eigh i?rices fer
UT~!
have led an oligopoly of rich men-"noblemen, gentlemen, and even
some rich abbotsn-to buy up their neighbours and dispossess their
tenants so that farm land might be enclosed for pasture. Whole families whose livelihood depended on tillage are thus forced from their
useful occupations into penury, beggary and crime. They are gaoled
for vagrancy or hanged for theft, but they cannot follow the callings
which they know. To their number are added spinners and weavers
who cannot afford to buy expensive wool, the more valued because
of its scarcity and the control of the market by the oligopoly. The same
class has been using agistment as a means of making quick profits, waiting for high prices before selling fattened cattle. So food prices rise,
servants cost more to feed and their employers dismiss them to join
the rahks of the vagrants and thieves. Meanwhile, others are ruined
in the pursuit of luxury and must rob to pay their debts (67-69). So
it is that vice and crime are products of the social environment, brought
about by the misrule of the few to the ruin of many.
It is through the few, then, that social evils are to be mended. Enclosers and farm-wreckers must be made to restore what they have
damaged.I4 The right of the rich to control commodities must be
limited. Idleness must be curbed, and farming and cloth-working encouraged. These are the proper remedies for crime, vagrancy and
poverty, not harsh laws which exact the ultimate penalty. 'Such justice,"
1/10-11).
says Raphael, "is more showy than really just or beneficialW(7
Morton is impressed rather than offended by Raphael's analysis and
silences the lawyer as he begins an inflated reply. What lesser penal-
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A Dialectical Interpretation
ties, asks the Cardinal, are appropriate to crimes of property if even
death is no deterrent? This is an extremely odd question to raise after
Raphael's extended discussion of the causes of crime: it s h i h the whole
matter back to regulation through punishment rather than the reformation of law and society. Raphael replies with an attack on capital
punishment which argues from classical authority (73/15-21), utility
(75/5-IS), but most tellingly from Scripture. This is the first of the
two occasions in Book I where Raphael gives classic moral summations of all that is wrong in the commonwealth. The death penalty
exemplifies socially sanctioned deviations from God's law.
God has withdrawn from man the right to take not only
another's life but his own. Now, men by mutual consent agree
on definite cases where they may take the life of one another.
But if this agreement among men is to have such force . . will
not chs law of God the:: be valid on!y sc? far as the !a??rof man
permits? The result will be that in the same way men will determine in everything how far it suits them that God's command(73/26-36)
ments should be obeyed.
.
If men do not scruple about adjusting God's law with respect to killing, then, a fortiori they will not worry about bending its other provisions. T h e importance of this argument goes beyond the issue of capital
punishment: it stands as the paradigmatic criticism of the commonwealth. Raphael repeats it at the end of Book I in reply to Morus' argument that the wise man can at least ameliorate the policies of
wayward rulers. Raphael finds such a position compromising and defends his principles against accommodation.
Truly, if all the things which by the perverse morals of men have
come to seem odd are t o be dropped as unusual and absurd, we
must dissemble almost all the doctrines of Christ. (101/23-26)
A courtier who took Christianity seriously would be out of place at
court, and in failing to support "the worst counselswand "the most
ruinous decreeswwould be reckoned "almost a traitor." He would merely
expose himself to corruption or be used as "a screen for the wickedness a n d folly of othersw(103/ 1-14).
More presents these criticisms with such remarkable economy that
they are readily identified as the problems to which his book is a
response. While in substance they were common enough, the manner
of their presentation was not. Indeed, so powerful is the structural analysis which More gives to Raphael, that Russell Ames, R. P. Adams
and, most recently, George Logan have taken it to be the truly distinctive feature of Book 1.'' Important as the structural account is, however, Hexter is nght both in stating that More "does not ultimately ascribe
the troubles of the world to impersonal forceswand in identifying the
chief personal cause of social mischief as pride.'6 For Hexter, pride is
a sinful propensity in human nature whose evil consequences More reve& in the Dialogue and contrives to restrict in the ~iscburseon Utopia.
But More's conception of pride is more complex than Hexter's discussion allows. It is not only a postlapsarian affliction of the will, as St.
Augustine argued, but a defect of judgement as well. In More's use of
superbia a mistake about the nature of things is always implied. Counsellors who regard novel ideas as threatening are the victims of "proud,
ridiculous, and obstinate prejudices" (57/31-59/17). Rulers who believe
that idleness and pride are the marks of majesty are warned that they
are mistaken and risk being despised or hated by their peoples (97/5-7).
I hose who giory in gems and h e r y have succurnld to coiinterfdt plem
ures (167/27-39, 169/15-29). In Utopia only children take pride in precious stones and pearls. As maturity comes, however, they leave these
toys behind (153/23-30). By contrast, the Anemolian ambassadors to
Utopia reveal themselves as "more proud than wise" in their rich amre,
which seems to the Utopians more in the manner of slaves or clowns
than that of men of judgement (155/3-28). Similarly, those whose pride
"counts it a personal glory to excel others by superfluous display of possessionsw(139/5-9) have been deceived by false pleasures (169/30-171/5).
And in his peroration, Raphael extols Utopian institutions arguing that
either self-interest or the authority of Christ would have led to their
wholesale adoption "had not one single monster, the chief and progenitor of all plagues, striven against it-I mean Pride." He pictures pride
seizing the hearts of men, "preventing and hindering them from entering on a better way of lifew(243/25-245/2).
Pride is a complex condition rather than a class of specific actions
like the carnal sins of gluttony or lechery.17 As More makes clear in
The Four Last Things, it is a spiritual malaise. In Utopia it has a broader and more flexible usage. It encompasses the corruption of spirit, will
and judgement. It is dangerous not only because it generates a host
In this respect it is
of other sins, but because it is selfdisgui~in~.'~
analogous to the concept of ideology adapted by Karl Mannheim from
Marx.19 Ideology, like pride, is a systematic but plausible distortion
of reality; a pattern of ideas which justifies and thereby conserves the
interests of those in power, enabling even the most anomalous states
of affairs to seem reasonable.
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A Dialectical Interpretation
This is well illustrated in the inner dialogue. The pride depicted at
Morton's table is peculiarly the sin of the rich and powerful. In cataloguing the ills of commonwealths, Raphael explicitly lays the blame upon
the privileged seven times,*' and his narrative culminates in the observation that the commonwealths of Europe are "nothing else than
a kind of conspiracy of the rich, who are aiming at their own interests
under the name and title of commonwealthw(241/27-29). But throughout the inner dialogue the critique is implicit, and it permeates the
book. This minority of rich men is not only slothful and greedy, but,
being proud is blinded to its own faults and to the misery inflicted
upon the majority. Each of the speakers, with the exception of Raphael
and Morton, is the victim of a false position. The lawyer fears for his
reputation unless he finds something to criticise in the speech of
another (59/3-6). The flatterers vary their opinions with their anticipations of the Cardinal's responses to Raphael's criticisms. The friar
has an anger which is born of pride though he protests tihat it is righre ~ u s . It
~ ' is only the genuine humility of Morton which allows the dialogue to proceed and Raphael to make any criticism at all. The other
listeners are all too ready to rebut arguments they have barely heard
and not appreciated. Pride has dimmed their intellects, and it is clear
from this microcosm of a royal court, that the good man's counsel will
fall upon deaf ears. The refusal of all but Morton to attend to his analysis confirms for Raphael the incorrigibility of rulers and their ministers,
and the inevitability of the good counsellor being compromised at
court.
The twin lights of reason and faith have been dimmed in the minds
and hearts of rulers and courtiers by their indoctrination in false values.
The propensity to vanity inherent in human nature is accentuated
in political life.22Hence the absurdity that an abbot can engross his
lands at great social cost while standing for the teaching of Christ.
In a society whose values rest upon the teaching of the Gospel but
whose practices reflect a devotion to the world a wide gap must be
disguised. Hence, God's word is interpreted to legitimise the conduct
of the ruling group and the real extent of their departure from the
Gospels is hidden. What is neither reasonable nor Christian has become ideologically sustaining in a world of distorted values.
So t h e fundamental problem for the wise counsellor is not to devise better laws or advocate more just policies. The first problem is
to penetrate to those who control social resources, to gain access to
the minds of those who decide. In order to come to grips with the
besetting ills of the commonwealth, the reformer must first deal with
I
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D. G R A C E
279
the ideological problem. This is the issue raised in the Dialogue of Counsel, which, above all others elicited More's response in Utopia.
Of course, if Hexter's persuasive account of the book's composition
is correct, then this identification of the problem encounters a difficulty.
It would suggest that More wrote Book 11without originally intending to clarify its purpose. While it is not impossible that More later
explicated his intentions in the enlarged Book I, this explanation is
less satisfying than looking for evidence of the "ideological problem"
in Book 11. And there it can be found, in the work of More's putative
first intention, in the central discussion of Utopian ethics.
The Utopians order their social life according to nature, which they
believe has provided pleaaure as an incentive tn virtue. Edward Surtz
and M.-M. Lacombe, in common with most commentators, locate the
Utopian view of pleasure against a revaluation of Epicureani~m.~~
An
obvious source for More would have been Cicero's De Finibus, but there
were a number of others available to him. It is clear that More was
well acquainted with Epicureanism,24although Judith Jones has suggested that parallels with the Philebus are more apt. The issue, however,
is not which source has priority, but what More made of ideas that
would have been familiar to his audience. He departs from the antireligious stance of Epicurus and the opposition of intelligence to pleasure
in Plato to give prominence to the question of discerning true pleasure from false. The Utopians hold that only true pleasures are truly
productive of happiness and these are found in following nature and
right reason. Like Epicureanism, Utopian ethics place friendship high
on the list of true pleasures, and in contrast with European practices
prescribe a duty to dismbute 'Gital commdties" equitably, for no one's
pleasure has more rights than another's. To deprive others of pleasure
is injustice. To pursue false pleasures is contrary to nature, and is therefore irrational. Hence honour is condemned:
1
1
What natural and true pleasure can another's bared head or bent
knees afford you? Will this behaviour cure the pain in your own
knees or relieve the lunacy in your own head?
(169/2-5)
And what true pleasure is there in hunting?The txpectation of a creature being mangled under your eyes . . . ought rather to inspire pityw
(171/18-20).
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A Dialectical interpretation
As with honour and hunting, so too with dicing, possessions and
wealth. Those things most esteemed in Europe are measured according to their true value in Utopia. The irony here is that the privileged
classes of Christendom devote themselves not to pleasures at all but
to mere simulacra of what is truly pleasurable. Those who feed on
simulacra have become habituated to them and are no longer able to
discriminate the genuine from the counterfeit. So it is impaired judgement which leads men to satisfy their desires in unworthy pursuits.
Their justification cannot affect the character of their desires: "it is
impossible for any man's judgement, depraved either by disease or by
habit, t o change the nature of pleasure any more than that of anything elsen (173/5-8).
Moreover, according to Epicurean psychology, the pursuit of false
pleasures produces appetites which are of their nature insatiable. As
D. Konstan puts it, I t is not that certain simulacra arouse limitless
desire; rather, desires are iimitiess when they feed on simuiacra." The
reason is simple: "Irrational passions, unlike natural needs, have an
unreal object, an empty simulacnsm, and therefore cannot be allayed."25T h e corrective is to banish "opinionn falsely added to the
data of t h e senses, t o seek security in "a stable condition of soul and
bodyn a n d not through the acquisition of property, status and
honour.26 Hythlodaeus' utopianism is wholly consonant with Epicurean ideals. It posits a largely apolitical life of tranquility, with limited
needs, a n d as few changes as are necessary to the conduct of the community. T h e Utopians are isolated from their neighbours-almost in
an Epicurean garden writ large-removed from influence which could
foster irrational passions, and being of similar mind (despite the provision for pluralistic beliefs) support each other in their spiriwl journey.
By contrast, Europe is insecure and restless, its peoples brought into
unnecessary conflict or dispossessed and abused by their rapacious rulers. The justifications of these rulers for their conduct derive from perverse judgement. They have corrupted the Gospel to suit their own
interests a n d can no longer see its message as an indictment of the
social order they administer. The Utopians, however, check conclusions derived from right reason against their religious principles so that
the two work in harmony to provide an ethos for their just society
(161/30-35, 163/21-23). It is not simply that European courts will not
apply proper Christian standards to their behaviour, but that they
cannot d o so from their present position.
Because rulers lack wisdom they perpetuate injustices and remain
unamenable to correction from wiser men: "they would never approve
the advice of real philosophers because they have been from their youth
saturated and infected with wrong ideas" (87/20-22). The most prevalent of these is that the true glory of a king is shown in his martial
prowess and conquests. From this evil notion flow innumerable h a d l
consequences. Yet the part of the counsellor is t o reinforce distorted
conceptions of virtue rather than to correct them. Imagining himself
to be a member of the French court, Hythlodaeus illustrates his case
from contemporary international affairs and offers by way of contrast
the example of the Achorians. This antipodean people began to suffer
the kinds of distress of which Englishmen might justly complain, because of the ambition of their prince for new territory. Hence the
Achorians delivered their king an ultimatum: he could choose between
his new conquest and them, for "no one would care to engage even
a muleteer whom he had to share with someone else" (89/35-91/20).
Yet what would be the response of the French court to his proposals
that war be abandoned as fruitless and that the king devote himself
to his own people who alone would tax his ability to govern wisely?
Morus readily concedes that such advice would be unpopular. Hythlodaeus then goes o n to describe other common forms of injustice practised by rulers which courtiers are required to devise or support, such
as varying the value of money to the prince's advantage; raising revenues
on the pretext of war; enforcing long-forgotten laws; and undermining the independence of judges (91/32-93/36).'' By these stratagems
a king may keep his coffers full, for "no amount of gold is enough for
the ruler who has to keep an armyn (93/38-39). Moreover, it is argued
that a king's security "lies in the fact that the people do not grow insolent with wealth and freedomn (95/5-6).
If Raphael were to utter such opinions at court, or offer the fruits
of his experience, such as the wise law of the Macarians limiting the
king's treasure and thereby his inclinations to acquisitiveness, with what
response would he meet? His hearers would be deaf to him. Morus,
however, is not at all surprised: he does not think that
such ideas should be thrust on people, or such advice given, as
you are positive will never be listened to. What good could such
novel ideas do, for h w could they enter the minds of individuals who are already t i k n up and possessed by the opposite conviction? In the private conversation of close friends this academic
philosophy (philosophia scholastics) is not without its charm, but
in the councils of kings, where great matters are debated with
great authority, there is no room for these notions. (99/1-8)
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Hythlodaeus agrees: the objection of Morus simply supports the view
that "there is no room for philosophy with rulers." But Morus now
insists upon a distinction: he does not advocate an
academic philosophy which thinks that everything is suitable to
another philosophy, more practical for statesevery place (but)
men, which knows its stage, adapts itself to the play in hand,
you must not
and performs its role neatly and appropriately
force upon people new and strange ideas which you realise will
carry n o weight with persons of opposite conviction. On the contrary, by the indirect approach you must seek and strive to the
best of your power to handle matters taafully. What you cannot turn to good you must make as little bad as you can.
(99/12-101/2)
.. .
. ..
----- ul
-L l1vA--.."
l u l u a are ce;tain!y strmg, but Raphae! is give..
the last word. He concedes that his speech "might perhaps be unwelcome," but "cannot see why it should seem odd." What, he asks, is
inappropriate about it? Is one to take prevailing standards of conduct
as normative, despite the teachings of Christ? The indirect strategy
advocated by Morus would be of no avail (103/1-15).
Thus concludes the debate on counsel. Although Moms is prevented
from replying to Hythlodaeus, Raphael cannot be said to have won
the encounter.'' Indeed, Bradshaw finds Morus' arguments proof
against those of Plato and Hythlodaeus.29Neither has persuaded the
other to change his mind and the reader is left to determine which
of the arguments is stronger according to his circumstances. This, as
Perelman has pointed out, is characteristic of dialectic." Yet Raphael
is left in a strong position. Although he seems to make the best the
enemy of the good, he does present his interlocutors in both inner
and outer dialogues with an argument which is troubling: if one is to
remain faithful to the teachings of Christ how is one to act in public
life?To compromise is to weaken Christian doctrine, which is forbidden; to be faithful is to be ineffectiveor to mask the iniquities of worse
men. On the other hand, Morus has raised an equally haunting
problem, that of indifference. Can one be truly Christian if one ignores the evils around one?The opposition between Morus and Hythlodaeus is drawn in masterly fashion, not only because each is given
strong arguments, but because these arguments arise out of genuine
dialogue where common ground-amongst some talk at crosspurposes-is established.
-rl--
I llr algiiiiic~l~a
At the conclusion of the inner dialogue, Moms pronounces "everything" which Hythlodaeus has said as "both wise and witty"
(85/39-87/1). The criticisms of European politics are conceded, and
hence the need for reform. It is Raphael's examples which are the obstacle. The "novel ideasnembodied in them cannot impress themselves
on those whose minds are already possessed of contrary notions. Only
in the conversation of friends can they be effective: in the courts of
kings they are irrelevant. Given Morus' warm approval of Raphael's
anecdote about his visit to Morton, this last statement is surprising:
the Cardinal alone of the company was prepared to give consideration to Raphael's novel views. The problem, not explicated by either
Morus or Hythlodaeus, but resting upon ground they hold in common, is the replacement of these false notions by true ones. Raphael
advocates a radically direct approach based upon what he takes to be
the injunction of Christ. Morus is concerned with effective means,
and hence favours indirection as likely to be more successful.
Morus takes the distinction between his philosophia ciuilior and
Raphael's philosophia scholastics to mark off their respective positions.
Yet Raphael has not proposed an academic philosophy at all. Indeed,
the kind of "philosophynheld by both is fully in accord with humanist
notions of what should be implied in the term. Erasmus, in the dedicatory epistle to his The Education of a Christian Prince refers, like Morus, to the argument of Plato that philosophy must join with
government.
By "philosophyn I do not mean that which disputes concerning the first beginnings, of primordial matter, of motion and infinity, but that which frees the mind from the false opinions
and the vicious predilections of the masses and points out a theory of government according to the example of the Eternal
Power.jl
The real basis of the differencebetween Morus and Raphael is not
over brands of philosophy, but over ways to impart and implement
it. And even here, their failure to resolve the matter is instructive,
for they suggest in their conversation a solution to the problem which
incorporates both their positions. In fact, the whole Dialogue of Counsel, so often seen as reflecting the debate in More's own mind about
whether to enter royal service, raises the prior problem of communication. Quite apart from the criticisms and reforms proposed, the values
A Dialectical lnterpretation
284
of proper dialogue are represented in the personae of Morton, Giles,
Morus, and even the uncompromising Hythlodaeus.
Morton is the personification of reasonableness in political authority.
As Raphael describes him he
In dialectic, by the same token, I should have thought it suficient
to master the nature of words, the force of propositions, and the
forms of syllogisms, and at once to apply dialectic as a tool to
the other branches of learning.36
deserved respect as much for his prudence and virtue as for his
authority. . . His countenance inspired respect rather than fear.
In conversation he was agreeable, though serious and dignified.
For More the usefulness of dialectic is vouchsafed in its adherence
to ordinary usage:
.
(59/26-29)
In discourse with Hythlodaeus, Morton displays the virtues of a willing listener and intelligent conversationalist. His peremptory silencing of t h e lawyer safeguards the values of conversation while his
guarantee to the man to "reserve your right unimpaired till your next
meeting" (7 1/35) demonstrates the extent of his open-mindedness and
tolerance.
Pets Gies is Z!SO described as a man ~f charm and -.rirtw 1.vhnse
conversation is polished and inoffensively witty (49/2-12). And Morus himself is an engaging person, eager to hear of Raphael's travels,
and even if perplexed by his novel ideas, to learn from him (109/21-26).
Hythlodaeus is a more shadowy character, and his earnestness and
enthusiasm make him less attractive than his interlocutor^.^^ To some
he is even dogmatic.j3 Yet, of course, he is a rhetorical device, hardly a character at all in the book of More's first intention. And as a
device h e has important dialectical functions, as we shall presently see.
More's conception of dialectic is classically humanist, that is, it is
at one with rhetoric in being practical and is not restricted to the uses
of the schoolmen. More's defence of this conception in his Letter to
Dorp is contemporary with the composition of Utopia and it is not
surprising to find aspects of the former in the latter. Dorp had accused
Erasmus of being unable to tell 'what distinguishes a dialectician from
a sophist . .n34 More rebuts the accusation and turns it back upon
Dorp, proposing a wider definition of dialectic on the authority of
Lef6vre d'Etaples: "All of our better minds and sounder judgments acknowledge in him a restorer of true dialectic and true philosophy, esTrue philosophy, for More, is not the kind of
pecially Ari~totelian."~~
debate engaged in by scholastics on realism or nominalism, which he
finds "highly absurd," but rather fruitful discourse:
.
. .
.
. the rule of the dialecticians . . is to press us along with true
reasoning, to any conclusion, by using the same language we
do. . .37
.
The values which suffuse the extraordinary Letter to DorpB are
found in the interlocutors in Utopia. If Raphael appears to be impatient,
it is because he is acutely aware of the closed-mindedness of so many
of his contemporaries, especially amongst scholastic intellectuals. And
this is so despite the fact that he does not employ a philosophiascholastica,
a technical language addressed to absurd problems. Only amongst the
likes of Morton, Morus and Giles will he find men willing to be moved
'in any direction with reasons that are true." As Germain Marc%adour
has shown, More uses dialogue to pursue the truth and reveal it to
others.39 Opposed to this was a puerile eristic, which Agricola, like
Morus, thought should be confined to the schools.* The questions of
this type of dialectic are intellectual toys like the jewels with which Utopian children play: they appear brilliant but are actually quite worthless.
Hence the adoption of Aristotle's conception of dialectic as reasoning based on 'generally accepted" opinion; 'a process of criticism wherein
lies the path to the principles of all inquiries.*' It is a practical discipline dealing in probabilities rather than a speculative one concerned
with certainties. This conception of dialectic was very different from
that which prevailed amongst the scholastic logicians or terminists,
whose talk of supposition, ampliation, restriction, appellation, distribution and relatives42was the target of humanist criticism. Their theories of the properties of terms were derived from the last six sections
of Peter of Spain's Summuh Logicales, the so-called Parva Logidia
scorned by More and his friends, and held by them to be a pointless
addition to Aristotle's Organon." This scholastic dialectic was removed from real problems and was set to resolve questions which were
not only useless but at times pernicious.44 From Petrarch on humanists had complained of the invasion of dialectic into the arts,45
and rebuked its practitioners for claiming bogus certainty on matters
of opinion. Hence, in his Letter to Dorp, More makes it clear that he is:
286
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A Dialectical Interpretation
not criticising all theologians, and I do not condemn all the
problems advanced by the moderns; but those which are not at
all relevant, which contribute nothing to learning and are a great
hindrance to piety. . .There are however other kinds of problems
which treat human affairs seriously, and of divine affairs reverently. Such problems, if they show by their modest behaviour
they are more interested in searching for the truth than in gaining a victory by clever debate, provided they do not lay complete claim on anybody, nor hold anyone too long within their
grasp . problems that are developed in that fashion I am very
willing to embrace.
.46
.
. .
..
Again we see not only a proper mode of argumentation being proposed, but the appropriate values to go with it.
These same values dictate that the technical vocabulary of the terminist give way to ordinary language. If dialectic is to be useful in reasoning from common opinion, it cannot divorce itself from ordinary usage.
Utopia itself is proof of this. It speaks to its admittedly restricted contemporary audience in a common tongue. Its manner is conversational not only in the Dialogue, but from the prefatory letters47through
to the Discourse. And, in attacking the errors of Christendom, it identifies distorted judgement as the problem. The insistence of More and
Vives o n correct usage of language is parallel with Raphael's on the
proper observance of God's laws. Contemporary practice gives twisted meanings to both.48 For the humanists, a rehabilitation of discourse was necessary, and this meant the assimilation of dialectic to
rhetoric or at least the blurring of the boundary between them. Seigel
shows that for Valla, the priority of ordinary over technical language
was a way "to tie the dialectician firmly to the linguistic standard of
the orator.* And Vives writes that dialectic "discovers what is true
or false or probable in this common speech which everyone uses."50
Even though, as Kinney shows, More was more moderate than Valla
and Vives and wished to retain a role for an Aristotelian dialectic in
a restored trivium, rhetoric would still have precedence over grammar a n d dialectic.'l
It is evidence of the right judgement of the Utopians that although
they have music, dialectic, arithmetic and geometry, and a mastery
of these arts comparable with the classical authors, they are ignorant
of the logica mo&nur.
In fact, they have discovered not even a single one of these very
ingeniously devised rules about restrictions, ampliations, and sup-
positions which our own children everywhere learn in the Small
Logicals. In addition, so far are they from ability to speculate on
second intentions that not one of them could see even man himself
(159/28-33)
as a so-called universal. . . .
This right judgement is also manifested in their openness on matters
of opinion. Because they have not had the certitude of revealed Christianity, they have relied upon their own reason and experience in deciding religious questions. King Utopus, their founder, wisely allowed for
this when he instituted the commonwealth. Not wishing to dogmatise, "he especially ordained that it should be lawful for every man to
follow the religion of his choice." More importantly, the values preserved
here go beyond toleration, embracing the correct conduct of dialectic
and the pursuit of truth. Utopus allowed proselytisers to "strive" for
converts
provided that [they; quietly and modes:!y supperted kheir] nwn
reasons nor bitterly demolished all others if [their] persuasions
were not successful nor used any violence and refrained from
abuse. . . . Moreover, even if it should be the case that one single religion is true and all the rest are false, he foresaw that, provided the matter was handled reasonably and moderately, truth by
its own natural force would finally emerge sooner or later and
(221/5-22)
stand forth conspicuously.
This exemplary attitude of Utopus and his people is to be contrasted with that of the dogmatic lawyer and angry friar at Morton's table,
and with the perverse judgements and closed minds of European courts.
The Utopians have a dialectical attitude towards religious matters holding that the truth will be exposed in a dialogue of religions. This attitude was common amongst the humanists, and is reflected in the
exchange between Morus and Raphael in the Dialogue. It is true that
a willingness to attend rather than to object is called for in Morus
and his companions, and that Raphael, as the holder of the central
position, is not required to be as flexible." Yet the conversation is
certainly not an academic one. O n the contrary, it provides a dialectical model for the clarification of truth in contrast with the combative, authority-grasping discourse of Morton's hangers-on. And the
problem of counsel is resolvable: both parties are right. Christ's words
must be adhered to, but it cannot be imparted by dogmatics and it
cannot be practised by formulae. Morus is wrong in calling Raphael's
philosophy academic, just as he is wrong in calling "civil" that
288
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A Dialectical interpretation
philosophy which is suitable to affairs debated with "great authority"
at European courts. Morus and Raphael agree that these courts are
in a parlous condition. Great matters are debated with a great show
of authority but the function of this discourse is the protection of private interests. Contrary to Morus, it is precisely the kind of conversation conducted amongst friends, as in Morus' garden, that is needed
to restore the authority of Christian courts.
On the other hand, Hythlodaeus' insistence on the faithful transmission of God's word does not constitute a fair objection to the "indirect approach" advocated by Morus. Indirection, in which Utopia
excels, does not mean compromise. On the contrary, ideas which are
uncomfortable are more likely to require an indirect approach than
those which have been watered down. If judgement is disordered, it
will be unable to apprehend the message of Christ in its purity. God,
of course, controls the revelation of that message, but as Augustine
recognised, He uses human voirn, mundane signs, to point to the
higher realities behind temporal affairs.13 If discourse has been rehabilitated by the incarnation, then the vapid speculations of scholastic
theologians, and the superstitions and inanities of ignorant religious
and clergy criticized in More's letters to Dorp, Oxford and a Monk,
must be replaced with language more faithful to revelation. A reformed
dialectic makes possible a clearer understanding of Christ's message.
While More assigns everything to the grace of God, he also gives learning a high priority as a way of coming to know Him.%It could be argued that the learning of Erasmus applied to the Scripture brought
about a more direct acquaintance with God's word; that nothing could
be less indirect in intention. But such an argument would adopt the
viewpoint of the humanists, and take no account of the opposition
of the entrenched interests against which More so brilliantly defended his friend.
More, then, draws out the strengths and shortcomings of Morus
and Hythlodaeus on the problem of counsel. If counsel is to be given,
its model is presented in dialogue. The point is, of course, that no stated
resolution of the problem is presented by More: neither of his characters is victorious. The values of openness and critical enquiry are reflected in the inconclusiveness of the exchange. The reader is left to judge,
as in Starkey's Dialogue or the schml text dialogues of Vives."
Although Hythlodaeus moves without interruption from the topic
of counsel to that of communism, both are aspects of the larger problem
of reform. Again, the obstacle is a species of false consciousnes~.~~
Raphael argues that private property allows the accumulation of wealth
in few hands, and thereby prevents justice and happiness from being
realised in human affairs. Half-measures, such as ceilings on wealth
or limitations on expenses incurred in holding ~ublicoffice, would curb
the worst excesses. But the fundamental problems of the commonwealth
would be left untreated. For these there is only one cure, according
to Hythlodaeus, and it must be radical: the common ownership of
property (103/24-107/4).
Morus responds with the familiar but powerful objections that incentive to work would be destroyed and people would come to depend on the labour of others; that when rightfully gained property
is legally appropriated bloodshed and riot" will ensue; and that egalitarianism must destroy the authority of magistrates, and hence social order
(107/5-16).
Morus' case is strong, as Hexter points
and Raphael does not
attempt to meet it head on. Indeed, he seems almost to have anticipated it and expresses a certaiii sympathy for those who ZiC iiii~ble
even to conceive of what he has actually experienced. He has no great
difficulty in meeting these a priori objections in the telling of his Utopian story. Having been to Utopia he can assist Morus in conceiving
of a commonwealth which seems utterly strange from an English perspective and contrary to well entrenched preconceptions about what
is possible and what is desirable in social life and political arrangements.
Peter Giles actually comes to stand for the traditional counsellor criticised earlier by Raphael (at 59/9-12) when he questions the latter's
preference for the New World given the antiquity and accumulated
experience of the Old. Yet while Morus and Peter are presented as
attached to familiar views and institutions and as in need of illumination, they are also shown to be willing listeners to new ideas. They
are more like the Utopians in taking advantage of their opportunity,
than like the Europeans Raphael criticises for their hostility to innovation.
Morus and Peter become model listeners for More's audiences. If
men of authority and public standing are willing to attend to the tale
of Utopia, then there is indeed hope for reform. For, as Raphael points
out, it is precisely the receptiveness of the Utopians to the benefits
of the discoveries of other nations that is the chief reason why, though
we are inferior to them neither in brains nor resources, their commonwealth is more wisely governed and happily flourishing than ours
(109/18-20).
Too few critics5' have given sufficient weight to this statement. It
is hidden, as it were, in the shadow of Raphael's diagnosis of the con-
290
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A Dialectical interpretation
ditions of injustice and poverty. A t the very end of Book I, then, the
priority of a dialectical attitude is reiterated as the Discourse on Utopia is introduced. The values represented in the conversation of the
Dialogue are fundamental to the Utopians, that is, to the best of a
commonwealth.
The place of dialectic in Utopia, then, is not based o n a characterisation drawn only from one book. There is, of course, the obvious
objection that almost the whole of Book I1 is taken up with Raphael's
~ ~ it should be remembered that the
uninterrupted d i s c ~ u r s e .Yet
description of Utopia is a response to the promptings of Morus, and
a reply t o his challenge to the idea of community of property. Raphael's
discourse is an extended justification of his views about the best ordering of a commonwealth. Of course, if Hexter's reconstruction of
the composition of Utopia is correct, this could not strictly be so: The
Discourse would, in More's first intention, have had merely a narrative function. Yet Hythlodaeus is clearly talking to an audience, anticipating their objections and trying to win them in the intimacy of
conversation. For example, on the contentious matter of the Utopian
attitude t o virtue and pleasure, Raphael says: "Whether in this stand
they are right or wrong, time does not permit us to examine-nor is
it necessary. We have taken upon ourselves only to describe their principles, a n d not also to defend themn (179/15-18).
This is, of course, disingenuous, but Hythlodaeus is clearly sensitive to his audience. Even if he is personally defensive and politically
committed to Utopian principles, he nonetheless respects the autonomy of his interlocutors-their ability to decide on the issues he raises.
As in s o much else concerning Utopia, opinion is divided about the
character of Book II. Surtz has called it a "one-sided dialogue," a distinction Skinner finds too nice.w O n the other hand, R. J. Schoeck
argues that "monologuen is far too conservative a description of
Raphael's narrative, a view which receives a good deal of implicit sup. ~ 'sees dialogue in broader terms as
port from recent s ~ h o l a r s h i ~He
a formal cause, embracing the obvious "literaryndialogue in which the
interlocutors converse; the extended dialogue between Utopia and eminent humanists, who ornament it with their letters; and, finally, between European models of political order, and the rhetorically appealing
"speaking picturen which is Utopia.62
Thus one may understand the Discourse, and not only the Dialogue
of Counsel, to function dialectically by challenging its European audience to reexamine its own values. This is done in a number of ways.
First, as Sylvester has pointed out, one must suspend one's disbelief
in order to hear Raphael's tale.63Even if one were to be dismissive of
the Utopian scheme, it would first be necessary to lower one's guard
sufficiently to let the message penetrate. Having heard the story,
however, one is prompted to make sense of it, to resolve its paradoxes
and ambiguities rather than just to dismiss it. So the Discourse sets
up an internal dialogue in the mind of the reader, requiring the reexamination of settled assumptions about issues raised by Hythlodaeus.
This level of dialectic is underpinned by the comparisons and contrasts between the two books of Utopia. In the first, pride governs the
social and political life of Europe; in the second, it is all but extirpated
from the commonwealth of Utopia. The poor labor to enrich the idle
in Europe, but few are exempted from work in Utopia, and sioth is
unknown. Want and greed go
hand in hand in the Old World, but
abundance removes covetousness in the New. The Utopians are well
housed and fed, and work short hours. Agriculture is fostered, whereas
in England agriculture has been impaired by grazing and cottages have
fallen into decay. The Utopians try to avoid war at all costs, but European princes see it almost as a duty. Counsels in Utopia are seriously considered and proposals may not be debated on the day they are
made, but imprudence nurtured by pride marks the courts of Europe.
Treaties are lightly made and broken in Christendom but are never
made and hence never broken in Utopia. All of these contrasts, of
course, are related to fundamentally differing social structures and value
systems: in Europe money and property are the measure of all things,
but in Utopia communism institutionalises and supports co-operation
and sharing.
Given the forcible critique of European societies in Book I, the reader
is confronted with the problem of making sense of the solutions offered
by Hythlodaeus in Book 11. One can agree up to a point with interpreters like A. R. Heiserman and Robert C. Elliott that Utopia is a
satire and its institutions are devices to attack the abuses of Christend ~ m Certainly
. ~ ~ there is a good deal of satire in the laws and customs ofthe Utopians: one need only think of their use of gold. But
the satirical interpretation is of value mainly in emphasising that Utopia is not programmatic; that it cannot be taken as a series of proposiIts
tions requiring philosophical deliberation or rec~nciliation.~~
shortcoming is that it does not measure the seriousness with which
292
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A Dialectical Interpretation
More's humanist audience viewed his fantasy. Communism, for example, cannot simply be taken to be a satiric inversion of the European obsession for property. Rather, what More does is to bring
communism into dialectical opposition to the practice described in Book
I t o show how an obsession with property is ultimately destructive of
the commonwealth. Those who read Utopia as a satire give a salutary
warning against a programmatic or narrowly philosophical interpretation of the work. Yet it is only because the spirit embodied in Utopian communism was taken seriously by contemporaries of More such
as Bude and Busleyden that it could serve as an effective critique of
Europe.66 To acknowledge the importance of the spirit behind More's
communism- the positive as distinct from the purely negative satiric
aspect - is not to suggest that it embodied that spirit in a form wholly
satisfactory to the authoP7 or his audience.
Indeed, to ask whether More really advocated communism through
the persona of Hythlodaeus or rejected the idea t'hrough that of Morus is n o t so much to miss the point as to be taken in by the fantasy.
More denies to his audience a finality on the issues he raises in Utopia. While this denial has provoked attempts to anchor the text to
formal o r biographical details, the rhetoric of the work constantly subverts such attempts, as Elizabeth McCutcheon has demonstrated.
In a seminal article, McCutcheon has shown that litotes is one of
More's favourite rhetorical devicesa In general it has the effect of
calling attention to particular issues without forcing a judgement upon
the reader. As McCutcheon writes, "it can disarm potential opponents
and avoid controversy; yet it emphasises whatever it touches."69
Hence, the enthusiasm with which Hythlodaeus delivers his discourse
is persistently qualified. The Utopians live in buildings that are neutiquam sosdida ("in no way mean," 120/4); their dress is nec ad oculum
indecose ("not unbecoming to the eye," 126/5); they go to war non temere ("not lightly," 201/4-5), and so on. There is a controlled subversion of explicit detail in the description which belies its potential as
a blueprint. This is not a complete denial of the idea that reason can
produce practicable reforms, as some have arguedI7Obut the blurring
of a picture which is finally focused in the dialectical engagement of
the reader with the text. Hence, in Book I, Morus says that Raphael
found i n the New World "not a few points from which our own cities,
nations, races and kingdoms may take example for the correction of
their errorsn (55/2-4) without specifying which. Then, at the conclusion of Book 11, Morus declares that "not a fewn of the Utopian institutions seem absurd, especially "their common life and subsistencen
because these destroy the "magnificence, splendor, and majestyncommonly regarded as "the true glories and ornaments of the commonwealth" (245/ 17-25).71
More's use of litotes has parallels in the larger construction of his
book. Surtz argues that he subtly undermines his own picture of Utopian felicity "by having the uncompromising Hythlodaeus overstate
his case: the Utopians are too good and their institutions run too
smoothly.n72The Utopian commonwealth is defective as a model for
Christian societies because it does not have the necessary revelation
t o correct unaided reason. Quentin Skinner has drawn out the contrasts between this view and that of Surtz's co-editor, J. H. Hexter,
which are siieiitli; jiitzp~sedir; the YYa didor?. Eiextet's crucial point:
with which Skinner strongly agrees, is that the Utopians, despite their
lack of formal doctrine, are truly Christian because of their conduct.
Such a daring proposal would thus make even more scandalous the
contrast between benighted Christendom and pagan Utopia.73
More did believe that reason is not "to be mistrusted where faith
standeth not against it." Indeed, pagan societies can reason to high
standards of virtue even though prone to infidelity and idolatry,
whiche was the specyall thyng frome whiche (God) called his
chyrche out of the gentyllys / whiche ellys as for moral1 vertues
and polytycal yf they had not lacked the ryghte cause and ende
of referryng their actes to god / were many of them not farre
vnder many of vs.74
The Utopians certainly refer their actions to God and do not mistake temporal felicities for heavenly ones. And, as Skinner points out,
they always relate ethical considerations to religious principles.75
Nevertheless, Surtz is right: the conduct of the Utopians is exaggerated by Christian standards. While it embodies certain truths dear to
Christianity, it frequently exceeds a Christian tolerance. It is as though
without the correcting guidance of Christ's church the Utopians fall
into absurdity.76
The exhortations of priests and officials to the incurably ill to seek
an end to their sufferings in voluntary euthanasia is repugnant to Christian principles. This practice, supported by Utopian religions (223/21,
223/17) takes to unacceptable lengths the desire of the faithful to join
-
294
A Dialectical interpretation
God in heaven. Utopian laws on marriage are equally contentious.
Where Christians would be expected to extend forgiveness to an adulterous spouse, the Utopians permit divorce and remarriage for the innocent party, and commit the offender to life-long disgrace and celibacy
(189).Divorce is also permitted on grounds of incompatibility (191/ 1-9).
Utopian laws on the ordination of women reflect, perhaps, More's own
high regard for the abilities of women,77but they are nonetheless at
variance with Christian tradition. While Utopian methods of waging
war are calculated to cause as little harm as possible-seeing that "the
commonfolk do not go to war of their own accord, but are driven to
it by the madness of kings" (205/302-32)-their behaviour nonetheless resembles that of Europe's warrior-princes. They offer rewards to
the enemy population for the assassination or surrender of their king
and other designated officials (203/36, 205/9). They rekindle old
grievances amongst their enemies' neighbours (205/35-39)) and, as a
rn.
h;-a
17n7/?
l l l a t t ~nlF CVULoC,
I
, 7n0 / 1 5) 1,-,,.-hnrc nlcLn..nL
the Utopians are exemplary in many respects and notably in their willingness t o consider differing viewpoints, their institutions cannot serve
as a model for Christian commonwealths.
George Logan has recently suggested that Utopia does serve as a
model of kinds, a thought experiment in comparative government to
determine what is the best state of the commonwealth. In doing so
More follows the Greek best commonwealth exercise, testing the limits
of human ingenuity in devising a model society even to the point of
considering the merits of institutions which the author might not personally approve of. The dialectic in More's version is, unlike that of
his Greek models, hidden: we are presented, argues Logan, only with
its results. Logan, then, recognizes the dialectical movement and openness of Utopia, but assimilates these to modem forms of thought rather
than to humanist rhetorical strategies. Hence he takes the concrete
detail of Utopia to be part of a comparative method, whereas it is better understood as a function of More's use of Ciceronian dialogue.78
Wilson has contrasted Platonic and Ciceronian styles of dialogue: the
former are concerned with eristic, whereas the latter are peirastic, and
borrow from the techniques of drama in a way that would be extraneous in a Platonic argument.79More has created a thought experiment, but not in the style of a hypothesis to be tested or a model to
be evaluated. The details of Utopia are part of his peirastic, a rhetorical device to evade the deficiencies of reason. More's dialectic is not
hidden s o much as integrated into the rhetoric of dialogue.
Just as the kingdoms of Christendom have twisted the teaching of
m
a-
V1
.-.-a
ma-ran
-;PC
LLICLCCLL~LLC~
L.V/I
,.
uLL,
Christ in one direction for evil purposes, so the Utopians have unconsciously given their rationally derived principles a utilitarian bias
in their search for the good society. As Khanna rightly observes, the
contrasts between the two societies do not "lead to an absolute choice"
between them." Just as one must decide exactly where to affix a
meaning to the indeterminate litotes, so one must also decide where
Utopian practice exceeds Christian principles. The Utopians might
well be described as "not pagan," but they are also "not Christian."
To make this judgement, however, is also to make a judgement of what
is proper according to God's law, and hence implicitly to strike a standard for one's own social and political system.
Utopia is an educational device, but not one, as Wayne Rebhorn
would have it, which magnifies "the humanist schoolhouse.'@'It is
not heavily didactic, but, on the contrary, works through paradox and
indirect persuasion to the restoration of truly Christian judgement in
what was
po:itica: :ife.8Z :v$ore)s nrategy is not sir,ply to
familiar to everybody: that Christian precepts ought to be followed;
that uncontrolled appetites are the basis of social vices; that fallen nature needs the discipline of external restraints if there is to be peace
and justice. There was nothing to be gained from the repetition of
moralisms which had lost their force. The distorted judgement of kings
and counsellors, religious and clergy had turned Christian principles
into an ideology which served their interests and allowed them to sin
.~
men had become proud in their vices and were
in c ~ m f o r tThese
not amenable to correction. Like those who mistake false pleasures
for true (171-73), habituation has made bad judgement seem good.
The closed fist of logic finds them on their own ground, ready to argue over the merest detail with a righteous importance, yet indifferent to the plight of those they burden and to their own condition as
oppressors. But the open palm of rhetoric is more persuasive. It engages the audience, eliciting responses which are not reflexive or learned
by rote.
Utopia is a demonstration of the healing of the understanding which
can be wrought through the word. The occasion of this therapy is the
encounter with Raphael Hythlodaeus, whose name encodes his mission: Raphael, the healer; Hythlodaeus, speaker of nonsense. Appropriately, the name of Raphael the archangel is associated not only
296
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A
Dialectical interpretation
with healing, but with divine healing: healing through the word of
God.
Erasmus had a similar idea in mind in dedicating his Paraphrasis in
evangelium Lucae to Henry VIII. This dedication felicitously combined
Henry's interests in medicine and theology, while suggesting that the
ultimate healing power-Christ, the Logos-was available to the king
through t h e Gospel. Like More, Erasmus is attempting to instruct in
more t h a n platitudinous Christianity: "I send thee Luke the physician,
most generous king, not the one whom you used to have previously,
but one speaking more clearly and eloquently to Latin ears.*
Utopia, then, is a device for penetrating the closed minds of those
who hold political power and those who counsel them. It reflects More's
.
recognition that "authority alone could not make men change.
Would n o t compel them to use reason to reflect upon their
problems."85 Nor could it speak to them of the true values of Christiznity when they h ~ come
d
tn regrrd themse!ves as virtuous ziccnrding t o their own rules. Utopia invites its readers to reappraise their
values a n d the relation of those values to practice. Its success may be
measured in the variety of critical opinion it has elicited. For, like More's
contemporaries, modern readers must locate the meaning of the work
in its dialectical structure.
Even a s the thunder of the Reformation called forth a strident tone
in More, the humanist intellectual did not give way to the ranter sometimes depicted. More used the dialogue form in religious polemics, and
as Germain Marc'hadour and K. J. Wilson have shown in discussing
A Dialogue Concerning Heresies, did so with wit and perception. Like
benighted counsellors and tunnel visioned scholastics, heretics were
unamenable to the direct persuasions of reason. Scholastic logic would
be useless against heresy, so More resorts to the rhetoric of dialogue,
a more plausible dialectic. As Wilson writes,
..
A disorder in the right relation between faith and reason, heresy must have aroused a unique distaste in the author of Utopia.
Heresy implied willful error against reason, yet there remained
hope that the method of rational dialectic might, if not overcome
error, prevent the faithful1 from choosing it.86
.. .
In this ambition More ultimately failed, but it is an added irony that
in Utopia, his more practical method should have come to be a byword
for impracticable political schemes.
If the problem of counsel is a problem of communication, then Utopia
goes some way towards a solution. It is a solution suited to a particu-
lar period, when a model of open and rational discourse might gain
access to the minds of men like Henry or Wolsey. More realised that
what is conventionally demanded from counsellors is not edifying advice about just means and good ends but moral and legal justifications
of conclusions already reached. Before long, the Erasmianism in which
More shared would become similarly prejudiced in the struggles of the
Reformation. But when Utopia was written, men might still be called
to true dialogue and to attack false judgement which took appearances
for realities, and, in pride, proclaimed certainties where there could
be none. Hence, Raphael and Morus are left in possession of their positions at the conclusion of the book. More has demanded that his
audience be the judge, not of who best represents his true views, but
of how from their dialectical exchange the commonwealth may be
reformed to be truly worthy of the Christian ideal.
University of New South Wales
Notes
I am most grateful to Michael Jackson and especially to Conal Condren,
who provided valuable if sometimes unheeded criticism of this paper in an
earlier form.
1. "Here I Sit : Thomas More's Genius for Dialoguenin D. Grace and B.
Byron, eds., 77umm More: Essays on the Icon, Melbourne, 1980.
2. The Complete Works of St. Thomas More, vol. 4, ed. E. Surtz, S. J., and
J. H. Hexter (New Haven and London, 1965), hereafter cited as CW 4. Citations are by page and line.
3. Ulrich Molk, "Philologische Bemerkungen Zu Thomas Morus' Utopia,"
Anglia 82 (1964): 309-20.
4. A. F. Nagel, "Lies and the Limitable Inane: Contradiction in More's
Utopia,"Renaissance Quurterly 26 (1973): 173-80; F. Jameson, "OfIslands and
Trenches: Naturalisation and the Production of Utopian Discourse,"Diadtics
(June 1977): 2-21; cf R. M. Adams' notes to his translation of Utopia (New
York, 1975), 35, 44, 45, 47, 83 and 84.
5. Elizabeth McCutcheon, "Denying the Contrary: More's Use of Litotes
in the Utopia," Moreana 31/32 (1971): 107-21; reprinted in R. S. Sylvester
and G. Marc'hadour, eds., Essential Articles for the Study of Thomas More (Hamden, Conn., 1977), 263-74.
6. Utopia: Biography of an ldea (New York, 1965); CW 4, xv-xxiii.
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A Dialectical Interpretation
7. See Elizabeth McCutcheon, "Thomas More, Raphael Hythlodaeus and
the Angel Raphael," Studies in English Literature 9 (1969): 21-38.
8: C W 4, 21.
9. Cf. Robert Coogan's perceptive "Nunc Vivo ut Volo," Moreanu 3 1/32
(1971): 29-45, especially pp. 43-44. Coogan is careful to show that More's
jeu d'esprit is not merely a play of wit, p. 31. For Wolsey's seriousness about
reform see J. J. Scarisbrick, "Cardinal Wolsley and the Common Weal," in
E. W. Ives, R. J. Knecht, J. J. Scarisbrick, eds., Wealth and Power in Tudor
England (London, 1978), 44-67.
10. Karl Kautsky, ThomaF More and His Utopia, trans. H. J. Stenning (New
York, 1927); and, more soberly, Russell Ames, Citizen Thomus More and His
Utopia (Princeton, 1949).
11. H. Berger, "The Renaissance Imagination: Second World and Green
World," The Centennial Review 9 (1965): 36-78 R. S. Johnson, More's Utopia:
Ideal and lllusion (New Haven, 1969); Ward Allen, Wythloday and the Root
of all Evil," Moreanu 31/32 (1971): 51-59.
12. George Logan, The Meaning of More's "Utopia" (Princeton, 1983).
13. !nrozp!ete Fictiorrr (Washir?gcnr?,!985).
14. Measures had been enacted to achieve this, most recently in 1514 and
1515, a n d in 1517 Wokey took steps to prosecute them with a commission
into enclosures, before which, ironically, More was summoned to appear;
Scarisbrick, "Wolsey and the Common Weal," 61; Elton, Refonn and Renewal
!London, 1977), 67-69.
15. Russell Ames, Citizen Thomas More and His Utopia, 176; R. P. Adams,
The Better Pan of Valor: More, E r m u s , Colet and Vives on Humanism, War
and Peace (Seattle, 1962), 125 ff.; George Logan, The Meaning of More's Utopia, (Princeton, 1983), 55 ff.
16. C W 4, ci; Biography of an Idea, 73-81.
17. On the dangers of the different vices, More writes, "I surely think there
be some who had in good faith made the best merchandise that ever they
made in their lives for their own souls, if they changed those spiritual vices
of pride, wrath and envy, for the beastly carnal sins of gluttony, sloth and
lechery . . . so . . . they could not be ignorant of their own faults." The Four
Lart Things, ed. D.O'Connor (London, 1935), 39.
18. Ibid., 6-7.
19. According to Mannheim, a social analysis is ideological "when we no
longer make individuals responsible for the deceptions we detect in their utterances, and when we no longer attribute the evil that they do to malicious
cunning. It is only when we . . . seek to discover the source of their untruthfulness i n a social factor, that we are properly making an ideological interpretation." Ideology and Utopia, trans. L. Wirth and E. Shils (London, 1960), 54.
20. A t 63/5-15; 67/2-13 and 14-16; 69/6-10, 14-17 and 23-25; 71/2-4.
21. Cf. The Four Last Things: "this deadly sore of wrath, of which so much
harm groweth . . . is but a cursed branch . . . of the secret root of pride," 54.
22. See ibid, 41, 42 and 45 for indirect political references.
23. E. Surtz, S. J., The Praise of Pleusure, (Cambridge, Mass., 1957); M.-M.
Lacombe, "La Sagesse D'Epicure dam L'Utopie de More," Moreana 31/32
(197 1): 169-82.
24. J. Jones, "The Philebus and the Philosophy of Pleasure in Thomas More's
Utopia," Moreana 31/32 (1971): 61-69. Elizabeth McCutcheon gives a recent
survey of More's "unstable amalgam" of Epicurean, Stoic, Platonic and Christian moral notions in "More's Utopia and Cicero's Paradoxa Stoicorum" in R.
Keen and D. Kinney, eds., M More and the Classics, Moreana 86 (1985):
3-22, especially 15 ff.
25. D. Konstan, Some Aspects of Epicurean Psychology(Leiden, 1973) 28,30.
26. Ibid., 70,69.
27. Cf. Dudley, Tree of Commonwealth, ed. D.M. Brodie (Cambridge, 1W8),
28, 34-36,41 and Erasmus, Education ofa Christian Prince, trans. L. K. Born
(New York, 1936), 215-218.
28. Cf. Hexter, Biography of an Idea, 131-32.
29. Brendan Bradshaw, "More on Utopia," The Historical Jacmal 24 (1981):
1-27; especially 22-24.
30. Ch. Perelman writes that "The point of departure for a dialectical argumentation does not consist in necessary propositions valid everywhere and
for all time, but in propositions effectively admitted to a given milieu; in a
different setting, in a different historical and social context, these propositions may no longer meet with general approval." "The Dialectical Method
and the Part Played by the Interlocutor in Dialogue," in The Idea of Justice
and The Problem of Argument (London, 1963), 166.
31. Pp. 133-34.
32. For example, Johnson, 33,48; R. S. Sylvester, "Si Hythlodaeo Credimus," in Sylvester and Marc'hadour, 290-301; 296 ff.
33. W.E. Campbell, More's Utopia and His Social Teaching (London, 1930),
46; H. W. Donner, Introduction to Utopia (London, 1945), 22. For an overview of opinion o n Hphlodaeus see Coogan, "Nunc Vivo ut Volo."
34. In Defense of Humanism: Letter to Martin Dorp, Letter to the University
of Oxford, Letter to Edward Lee, Letter to a Monk, The Complete Works of St.
Thomas More, vol. 15, ed. Daniel Kinney (New Haven and London, 1986),
p. 14/23-4. Hereafter cited as C W 15.
35. CW 15, 22/16-17.
36. C W 15, 24/24-28.
37. C W 15, 36/9-11.
38. For three excellent discussions of the rhetoric of the Letter to Do@ see
M. Fleisher, Radical Refonn and Political Persuasion in the Life and Writings of
Thomas More (Geneva, 1973), chap. III; Germain Marc'hadour, Thomas More
convertit Martin Dorp a I'humanisme" in Thomas More 1477-1977, Travaux
de I'Institut Interuniversitaire pour I'etude de la Renaissance et de
I'Humanisme, IV (Bruxelles, 1980), 13-25; and Daniel Kinney, "More's Letter to Do@:Remapping the Trivium," Renaissance Qmterly34 (1981): 179-210.
39. "Here I Sit," 11, 15, 24 ff.
40. C. R. J. Armsnong, T h e Dialectical Road to Truth: The Dialogue," in
French ReMissmue Studies 1540-70, ed. P. Sharratt Wnburgh, 1976), 3651; 42.
300
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A Dialectical interpretation
41. Aristotle, Topica, trans. W. A. Pickard-Cambridge, The Works of
Aristotle, ed. W. D. Ross, 1 (London, 1928); 100a, 30 and lOlb respectively.
For More's knowledge of Aristotle see T. I. White, "Aristotle and Utopia,"
Renaissance Quarterly 29 (1976): 635-75, especially 637; cf. Fleisher, op
cit, 91.
42. See W. and M. Kneale, 77w Development of Logic (Oxford, 1%2), 246-74.
43. Generally, see the Introduction of Rita Guerlac, Vives Against t k Ps&
dialecticians, and for Vives, 79, 131; for More, CW 15,29 ff. W. Ong's Ramus,
Method and tk Decay of Ddogue (Cambridge,Mass., 1958)gives a clear and concise account of the logic of Peter of Spain and its humanist critics in chaps.
IV and V. Alan Perreiah puts humanist criticisms into perspective in Wumanistic Critiques of Scholastic Dialectic," T k Sixteenth Century l o u d 13 (1982):
3-22.
44. See e.g., Vives' views o n the detriment of dialectic to theology, 117.
45. Ibid, 14.
46. St. Thomas More: Selected Letters, ed. E.F. Rogers (New Haven and London, 1961), pp. 40-41.
47. For P.R. Allen, thc piefztoiy material emen& the cc?r?verszt?tic?r?:
"The
world of Utopia becomes an incident in a long discussion; it is not a separate
book but t h e central subject of the conversation-a rather lengthy anecdote
told to a group of humanists, all of whom listen to it and comment on it."
"Utopia a n d European Humanism: the Function of the Prefatory Letters and
Verses," Studies in tk Renaissance 10 (1963): 91-107; 100.
48. Vives poses the problem of language in much the same way as More
raises that of false religious ideas: "What then if a dialectician should investigate the true and false by verbal meanings made up at his pleasure, ignoring the common and current ones? Surely everyone who knew the language
would say, 'You are not seeking the truth of our discourse but of your own
dreams . . ."Against t k Pseudodidecticians, 133.
49. J. E. Seigel, Rktoric and Philosophy in Renaissance Humanism (Princeton, 1968). 162.
50. Against t k Pseudodidecticians, cf. 49, 77.
5 1. Kinney, 206-7.
52. Warren Wooden goes much further. He sees in Hythlodaeus the epitome of t h e scholastic dogmatist. Hence Utopia satirizes scholasticism through
the figure of Raphael. "Anti-Scholastic Satire in Sir Thomas More's Utopia,"
The Sixteenth Century l o u d 8 (1977): 29-45.
53. O n Augustine's theory of signs and the rehabilitation of discourse see
Marcia Colish, The Mirror of langwge (New Haven and London, 1%8), chap. 1.
54. In his Letter to a Monk he makes a spirited defence of Erasmus which
is also a strong defence of learning. Erasmus, he tells the monk, has done
more for t h e Church than the monk, ". . . unless you think that anyone's
fasts or perfunctory prayers do as much or do such widespread good as so
many great volumes, through which the whole world is instructed in righteousness . . ." Due allowance should be made, perhaps, for polemical hyperbole (CW 15, 296/10-13; but cf. 302-4).
55. Cf. t h e remarks of K. Burton in her introduction to A Dialogue Be-
tween Reginald Pole and Thomas Lupset (London, 1948), 3; for Vives see
Tudor School-Boy Life, trans. Foster Watson (1908, reprinted London, 1970).
C. J. R. Armstrong observes of Cicero's dialogues, "all the speakers are clearly using dialectic, but every man's dialectic has equal rights with every other
man's. None is represented as 'victorious'. . . Likewise, each interlocutor remains at the end, as at the beginning, in secure possession of his original
opinion. . . . The decision in the matter under discussion . . . is left to someone outside the discussion itself: to you and me, the readers." T h e Dialectical Road to Truth," 43. W. J. Kennedy ventures a similar opinion about the
conclusion of Utopia where More "passes the responsibility [for further discussion] onto the reader. . . ,"Rhetorical Norms in Renaissance Literme (New
Haven and London, 1978), 103.
56. Cf. Fleisher, 132.: "More's problem-everyone's problem-is that the
false image of things impedes the reception of the truth."
57. Biography of an Idea, 36-42.
58. A n important exception is Lee C. Khanna: "It is Utopian ability to
change, to heed and apply new ideas that Hythloday lauds as their chief
quaiity-not their communism, Epic"rexLkm, n ~ar;r.
r &:heir c-atems."'L~Gpia: The Case for Open-mindedness in the Commonwealth," Moreana 31/32
(1971): 91-105; 94. Cf. Bradshaw, 26-27; Logan, 62.
59. See e.g., Fleisher, 130.
60. CW 4, cxxxix; (2. Skinner, "More's Utopia," Past and Present 38 (1967):
158-63; 157.
61. See e.g., notes 27, 53 and 60 above, and Elizabeth McCutcheon, My
Dear Peter: The Ars Poetica and Hermeneutics for More's Utopia (Angers, 1983),
58-68.
62. " 'A Nursery of Correct and Useful Institutions': O n Reading More's
Utopia as Dialogue," in Sylvester and Marc'hadour, 281-89; especially 285-87.
Cf. Logan, 61 ff.
63. Sylvester, 292-93. At 292, Sylvester denies that Book II is "dialogue
at all, but a fervently eulogistic monologue." He does, however, emphasize
that Utopia poses a question which "the reader must ponder" rather than
providing a solution.
64. A. R. Heiserman, "Satire in the Utopia," PMLA 78 (1963): 163-74, especially 172-74; Robert C. Elliott, "The Shape of Utopia," ELH 30, (1963):
3 17-34.
65. See, for example, Elliott's comments on Surtz's readings of Utopia,
3 17-20. Cf. Lyman Tower Sargent's cautions o n the satirical interpretation
in "More's Utopia: An Interpretation of Its Social Theory," H i s t q of Political
Thought 5 (1984): 195-210; 200; and McCutcheon, My Dear Peter, 69. A recent philosophical treatment of Utopia which seems a case in point is T. A.
Kenyon's T h e Problem of Freedom and Moral Behaviour in Thomas More's
Utopia," lournal of the History of Philosophy 2 1 (1983): 349-73.
66. See the letters of Bude to Lupset, CW 4, 5-15, especially 9/35-13/2;
and Busleyden to More, ibid, 33-37, especially 35/25-37/8; Hexter, Biography of an Idea, 44-48; David 0. McNeil, Guillaume Bude and Humanism in
the Reign of Francis I (Geneva, 1975), 30 and 57; and, for a comprehensive
302
-
A Dialectical Interpretation
view of humanist attitudes to communism, E. Sum, The Praise of Pleasure
(Cambridge, Mass., 1957), chaps. XIV and XV.
67. See More's objections to communism in practice in CW 12, 174 ff.,
especially 180.
68. She counts one hundred and forty uses in one hundred pages in "Denying the Contrary," 263.
69. Ibid, 267.
70. See Andrew D. Weiner, 'Raphael's Eutopia and More's Utopia: Christian Humanism and the Limits of Reason," Huntington Library Quarterly 39
(1975): 1-27.
71. I have followed McCutcheon's translations because, as she points out,
the Yale Edition frequently obliterates litotes.
72. C W 4, cxli-cxlii.
73. Skinner, 160.
74. Complete Works, vol. 6, A Dialogue Concerning Heresies, ed. Thomas
M. C. Lawler, Germain Marc'hadour, and Richard C. Marius (New Haven
and London, 1981), part 1, book 1, chap. 29, 117. Cf. Kenyon, 355 ff.
c1.:---I J . 3KIIIIICL, 159.
76. Cf. Weiner, p. 13. See also Clare M. Murphy, "Un aspect de 'differance' dans l'Utopie de More: 'langue' du Livre I et 'parole' du Livre U," Autrement Dire (Presses Universitaires de Nancy) 3-4 (1986-87), 123-33, especially
128-32.
77. Cf. Dudok, Sir Thomas More and His Utopia (Amsterdam, I925), 89,
and More's letter to Gonnell (No. 63) on the education of his daughters, The
Correspondence of Sir Thomas More, ed. Elizabeth Frances Rogers (Princeton,
1947), 120-23.
78. Logan, 59-66, 105, 110, 139-40, 216 ff.
79. P. 49; cf. chap. 1 and 2 passim.
80. Khanna, 93.
81. "Thomas More's Enclosed Garden: Utopia and Renaissance Humanism," English Literary Renaissance 6 (1976): 140-55; 155.
82. D. B. Fenlon argues that Utopia shows that the philosophia Christi was
incapable of being invested with social and political content, and that Christian ideals and political reality are incompatible. 'England and Europe Utopia and Its Aftermath," Tramactions of the Royal Historical Soczety, Fifth Series,
25 (1975): 115-35; 124-25.
83. Cf. More's Letter to a Monk, Rogers, 124-31.
84. Marjorie O'Rourke Boyle, 'Erasmus' Prescription for Henry VIII:
Logotherapy," Renaissance Quarterly 3 1 (1978): 161-72; 163.
85. Schoeck, 284.
86. Pp. 152-54.
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