Culture and Civilisation:

A Philosophy of Geography

By PROF. N. S. PHADKE, M.A.

(The Rajaram College, Kolhapur)

The acceptance of the principle that material conditions largely determine men’s ideas and ideals led to a new interpretation of history. It should also lead to a revision of the orthodox view of the science of Geography. We hear so much of the Marxist interpretation of History. We ought to hear as much of a new approach to the study of Geography. It’s a pity if we do not. Because if we look at Geography in the light of the general theory that men’s thoughts and ideas are moulded by the material conditions in which they live, we have to admit that the boundaries of the science of Geography must touch those of Psychology, Ethics, Religion, and even Literature and Art. Geography will at least provide very important data for these studies. The dictionary describes Geography as “the branch of knowledge which treats of the external features of the world, and its products and its inhabitants.” Even this description is enough to suggest that, although the eye of the Geographer particularly lingers on the rivers and mountains and the rains and the winds of a country, yet he must devote some attention to the people of that country,–their habits and customs, their trades and industries, their literature, their sciences, their arts, and even their philosophy. In fact, the science of Geography which, from a superficial point of view, seems to be concerned with “external features” truly speaking ought to be interested in the effects which these external features have on human conduct and thought. Beyond a certain point then Geography must become a human science.

This proper and rational view of Geography is recent and requires to be much more emphasised than it usually is. Only twenty-five years ago teachers of Geography took a very narrow view of the subject, and the methods of teaching it were very crude. I can perfectly remember even to this day how crudely Geography was taught to us in our school days. Even the use of good maps was not generally thought necessary by the teacher. He sailed into the class with a simple teaching apparatus–namely a long cane. He opened his book and read out a list of the principal rivers of India and asked us to memorise them. Or he read out the heights of the different mountains in the world, and we made them “by heart”–if there was anything like a heart left with us. The result was that we all cultivated an aversion for geography. I have no idea how I managed to pass in that subject, and even to this day I find it difficult to believe that Mississippi is a river and not a pin-up girl or a Hollywood star called Miss Issipi!

Things are fast changing now. Methods of teaching geography are becoming more human and interesting, and the teacher is expected to impress upon the student of geography how, in studying the geography of India, he must not only know the map of India, but he must also try his best to understand the people of India–their literature, their sciences, their religion, their culture. Educationists are increasingly realising that the scope of geography is vast, and that it is unscientific to separate the external conditions of a country from the minds of its people. It was usual in the old days to regard the mind and the body as separate and unrelated. But now that dualistic conception is exploded. The human mind is not any longer regarded as growing by itself in complete detachment from the body. There is an interdependence and interaction between man’s mind and body. And if this be true it follows that the material and geographical conditions in which the bodies of men grow must affect the mould of their minds, the turn which their ideas take–they must be responsible in some measure for the shaping, of their ideals, and for the expression of these ideals and unfulfilled cravings in the form of literature and art and religion–in general, the attitude of the people towards Life.

It would be both easy and interesting to point out how the divergences between the inhabitants of different countries–in many cases of different parts of the same country–so far as their general attitude to Life is concerned are, in the last analysis, due to the geographical differences of their countries or their provinces. The climate of India and the external features

of the country have determined the mental mould of the Indian, his beliefs and disbelief’s. The climate of England is vastly different from that of India, and therefore the Englishman’s attitude to life is bound to be different. In fact, it would be unscientific to expect any very close resemblance of outlook between the average inhabitant of India and the average native of Great Britain. The conditions provided by nature are so different. The brilliant sunshine in many parts of India throughout a large portion of the year, the presence of a number of noxious forms of animal life, overwhelming floods, majestic rivers, snow-peaked mountains, specially the Himalayas to which sacredness comes to be naturally attached–all these have engendered a strange antithesis between the helplessness of our present existence and a better world that lies behind and above. The geographical conditions in Great Britain are entirely different. The surroundings are comparatively very tame, neither greatly elevating nor greatly depressing. The Britisher is seldom faced with overwhelming dangers from beast or flood. He therefore has learnt neither to hope overmuch nor to give way to despair. He has learnt to believe that nothing is so evil that it cannot be made better, and nothing is so good that he can rest in it as final. He has turned to science, industrial organisation, and politics, where the Indian turns rather to philosophy and religion.

Pursuing this line of thought one is tempted to suggest that, after all, what we call the culture of a country is the result of the specific geographical conditions in which its people are required to live. This interpretation of culture as the product of geographical conditions is tempting, because it helps a good deal in understanding and explaining the differences in the characteristic traits of different peoples. The word ‘culture’ is often taken to mean men’s habits and customs, their modes of dress, the things which they eat and the manner in which they eat them, their style of living,’ and their ideas of good and bad conduct. And in this sense it would be extremely easy to show that geographical conditions determine culture. We dress as we do and eat what we eat, principally because of the geographical conditions of our country. And the people of England or France or Germany dress and eat differently and have developed different notions of correct behavior because they live under very different geographical and climatic conditions.

But although this interpretation of culture renders it very easy to magnify the importance of geography, one must not accept it as correct. Many people are found to understand the word culture in narrow sense. By Hindu culture, for instance, they seem to understand the Hindu ways of living, the customs and manners of the Hindus, their modes of dress, their distinctions of the proper and the improper. When a novel is condemned as an attempt to destroy Hindu culture, those who condemn it only mean that what is described in the novel is not in harmony with the habits and customs of Hindu society. Similarly, if an artist paints a completely nude figure of a Hindu woman, his picture is called shocking and subversive of Hindu culture, and those who denounce it only mean that nudity is not a common feature of Hindu life. Or, when conservative people maintain that India must not adopt western culture, they really have in view certain western modes of life–their dress, their food, or their games, their manners, their likes and dislikes. In fact, it is a very common mistake to confuse the two different terms ‘Culture’ and ‘Civilisation.’ A very amusing instance of this confusion is the way we translate both these words in our vernacular by the same word, viz., ‘Samskritee’ obviously neglecting the subtle shade of distinction in their meanings. But this is obviously a big mistake. And the fact remains that civilisation is very different from culture. Culture is what we are, and civilisation is what we use. The electric light and fan, for instance, are guts of modern civilization. In the old days before the advent of electricity, we used oil lamps. In very old days we used sweet oil. Then came the kerosene oil. But it was oil just the same, and burning the midnight oil was a very appropriate idiom. But now in these days of electricity it would be foolish to talk of burning the midnight oil. We should talk of running the midnight current. The instrument of creating artificial light has thus improved. And this is a gift of civilisation. In the Stone age, if a man wanted to kill his fellow, he had to do it with a sufficiently sharp stone. Then came the bow and the arrow, then the knife and the sword, then the gun, and now at last the atomic bomb. The weapons of offence and defense have thus gradually undergone improvement and refinement, and when we talk of these we discuss civilisation. The printing press, the camera, the gramophone and the radio–what are these? They are essentially instruments which man has devised for the achievement of his comforts. Civilisation thus covers the instruments of agriculture and industry, instruments of production and transport, instruments of communication and the spread of ideas.

Culture is something quite different. It is something quite distinct from the steam engine or the aeroplane. A man may have never used the gramophone or the radio. He may have never visited the talkie theatre. Or, for the matter of that, he may not even be able to read and write. And yet he may possess a good deal of culture. Or, to put the same idea in a reverse fashion, a man’s house may be cram full of all modern instruments of civilisation, and yet he may lack culture. Culture is something unique which must not be confused with civilisation, and which is higher than the geographical, the economic and the political values. Human life seems to be divisible into three main aspects–the economic, the political and the cultural, which arise out of the three fundamental elements in the life of man, namely the biological, the animal, and the distinctively human. The presence of these three elements must never be overlooked. Although man is much more than an animal, he has an animal side to his nature; and although an animal is much more than a plant, it has an aspect that is essentially vegetative. It is these three elements–the biological, the animal and the human–that form the foundations of all the main aspects of man’s social life. These elements can be separated only for convenience of discussion. But actually they are not separate. In their more complex developments they tend to become more and more inextricably interwoven. It is chiefly the complicated ways in which they combine, conflict and become entangled with one another that make human life so difficult, and so full of almost insoluble problems.

“It is not growing like a tree

In bulk that makes man better be...”

This is quite true, and yet it cannot be denied that man does grow more or less like a tree. Only in a much more complicated fashion. And the agricultural and industrial pursuits are chiefly occupied with the satisfaction of wants arising out of the fact that man grows like a tree, i.e., out of the needs for physical maintenance, growth and reproduction. And just as man is at bottom a tree, he is also an animal. His animal instincts are under control, first from without and afterwards from within. But they are there. Of course, as human life progresses, becoming more and more intricate, needs of a much higher and more elaborate kind are added to the biological and animal needs. But it is these latter alone that are omnipresent throughout life, and that in times of stress are seen to be immeasurably the most important. There are few words more terrible than starvation.

But although man is thus both a vegetable and an animal, he is also very distinctly human. He decides upon values and more or less tentatively creates. He has thoughts that wander through eternity, and imaginations that grow inexhaustibly. And it is exactly here that we touch upon that unique thing called ‘Culture’. Man’s contacts with the lower forms of life give rise to agricultural, industrial and legal pursuits and institutions. It is because of the weaknesses that spring up from the animal side of man’s nature that a system of government has to be formulated. All these activities and institutions together make what is called ‘Civilisation’. Culture is different. It is that side of human life where man is truly human, and aspires to what he more or less definitely dreams of as divine. It is in this cultural aspect that man becomes aware of the ultimate values, aiming at the realisation of Truth, Beauty and Goodness through the cultivation of the creative elements in his nature. Man pursues science and philosophy, not so much because they are useful in industry and in the organisation of industrial and political institutions, as because his nature craves for light. Men devote themselves to Arts, not so much because they are pleasant or entertaining as because they open up visions of the higher possibilities of humanity.

Culture, therefore, is a term, which must be reserved for, and applied to, all that has been done by the people of any country in the pursuit of Truth, Beauty and Goodness. Man is in part like a plant and he has certain vegetative functions to perform. Like the plant he must breathe, he must assimilate food, he must grow and ultimately return to the dust out of which he was born. Like the animal he has instincts and desires and passions, he must live a gregarious life, and he must obey the law of the herd. It is these two aspects of human life that bring into existence economic systems and forms of government. These are obviously determined by geographical conditions. And since these conditions are bound to differ from country to country, the industrial and political institutions of one country may not be exactly suitable to another. It may not be possible to unify all the nations of the world economically and politically. The dream of a family of nations with one identical form of government, or one unifying industrial system, may perhaps be a foolish dream doomed to destruction. But there ought to be ample room for hope if we approach the concept of a human commonwealth from the cultural point of view. Natural and material conditions and geographical, surroundings may dominate man’s economic and political activities. But the speculative activity of man is a higher kingdom where the laws of geography do not penetrate. This speculative activity may, of course, be often used for the development of industrial and political machinery. Science, for instance, may be applied to the ordinary human needs like food and clothing and housing. Or Art may be used to beautify the home or for amusement. Even philosophy and religion may come to be applied to business and industry and practical politics. Truth and Beauty and Goodness may thus be cleverly used, but such use is not their end or their justification. They have a use of their own, a justification of their own. That is why they are called eternal verities or ultimate values. And it is the sum total of these values, as they are accumulated by the thinkers of a nation, that ought to be meant when we talk of that nation’s Culture.

The province of Culture is therefore obviously one where geographical conditions may be ignored, and therefore it is the only fit basis of international unity. It may not be possible to unify the different civilisations or the world. Geography determines history, and history determines civilisation. And because the geographical conditions of all the peoples of the world cannot be standardised, a synthesis of civilisations may be not only impossible but even undesirable. But a world culture, uniting in itself all the cultural achievements of the different peoples of the world ought to be possible. At least it is an ideal for which we all ought to strive. Politically the Indian may look upon the Britisher as an invader and an enemy. The industrial interests of Japan and the United States may be opposed. But the Japanese and the American, the Russian and the Chinese or the Indian, the white man and the dark man and the brown man–we are all brothers in the same, quest of Truth, Beauty and Goodness. And universal peace and brotherhood, which may seem to be beyond achievement through industrial and political adjustments, may be brought down from Heaven to earth if we all make an honest resolve to understand each other’s effort and achievements in the domain of purely speculative activity, and to unite our seemingly different cultures into one glorious heritage, vision and inspiration. At least this is a dream for which it would be worth while to live and to die!

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