It’s quite a leap from Pope Benedict to Jordan Peterson. But maybe not, since both have been given to pontificating;, although one did so by merit of his position, while the other, by individual conviction.
At hand is the recent Twitter remark by Peterson about model Yumi Nu’s cover photo in the swimsuit edition of Sports Illustrated. (I tried to include the photo here, but it may be copyrighted.) Jordan proclaimed the model “Not beautiful,” by some standard known to him, but presumably tapped in to the universal standard of what is beautiful.
Like truth-veritas, beauty—bellitas—is a universal quality, a transcendent value, meaning that it stands above and beyond the particular manifestations of what is beautiful. Is this a mountain- top quality? I think we could use this metaphor, at least, to see what is at issue here.
After Peterson met with criticism over his now-infamous tweet, he doubled down, claiming that the SI cover was “a conscious attempt to manipulate and retool the notion of beauty, reliant on the idiot philosophy that such preferences are learned and properly changed by those who know better.” (Emphasis mine.)
The very use of the word “notion” here reveals the discrepancy in this, otherwise often wise, man’s reasoning. There are many notions of beauty. A notion is not universal, but very particular, centered in a culture or set of values that may not be shared by everyone. In the case of beauty, there are myriad examples. I will take some from my own recent experience.
The music I chose to sing at mass this morning would be seen by some as too “folky,” not majestic enough to grace the Eucharistic celebration. (In fact, followers of Benedict might well hold this view.) I find it beautiful because it is melodic and voices words of Scripture in a memorable way. It doesn’t have to be Handel’s Messiah to be beautiful, in my view, although I love that too. I’m not trying to “retool” anyone’s idea of beauty here, but just to assert that this is what will lift the minds and hearts of the people I sing for. They would not work at a Russian Orthodox liturgy.
Recently a friend invited me to visit a
display of the art of Leonardo da Vinci from the Sistine Chapel here in Denver.
Now this art is universal, you might want to say. No. Beautiful, it is.
Unparalleled, yes. Masterful,
undeniably. But what of the subjects from which he took his depiction of
characters from the Bible and early times? Here is Leonardo’s “Creation of
Eve.” Imagine Eve later on, clad in a bikini. She would bulge more from under
its straps than did model Yami Nu. Yet
Da Vinci pictures her as the ideal of womanhood, God’s first female creation,
at a size extra-large.Would he have painted anything but a beautiful woman to grace the
Pope’s own chapel? Is this a “conscious attempt to manipulate and retool the notion of beauty,” as Peterson said of the swimsuit model? Hardly! This was beauty as seen in the 16th Century by a keen observer of the human form.
In others of his paintings, women are depicted as strong and muscular as well, but always much curvier than the typical Western model today.
What’s going on with Leonardo’s notion of beauty? In cultures where good nutrition is not a given, the poor tend to be thin as a result of their inadequate diet and life struggles; the well-to-do show their good health and comfort in their physique, well-padded. According to today’s BMI calculations, they would be considered obese. At that time, this was the cultural ideal.
In Iran, as in many other non-Western countries today, similar standards apply. Often the garb is designed to accommodate curves, as was that of earlier times.
Is this some “idiot philosophy” that asserts taste is different from universal standards of beauty? Is it idiotic to claim that tastes are, indeed, learned?
Again, from my own experience. I went to Iran as a Peace Corps volunteer in the mid-1960s—a person of taste, I thought. My family trusted my color suggestions for our home décor. I liked the typical subtlety popular in the West at the time—the beiges and grays with accent colors. When colors were to figure in, avocado, orange and turquoise were a popular trio.
In Iran, a country of vast deserts and lush river valleys, beige was not a favorite theme, it turned out. A favorite Tehran restaurant, the Paprika, was decorated in red—like, red everywhere, accented by mirrors and sequins. Qashang was the word for beautiful in Farsi, and this décor was representative of Qashang.
(I would add that the restaurant interior here is not that of the Paprika, but is similarly brightly colored. Also, that in our global society, tastes have changed world-wide since the 1960s)
One of our favorite pastimes was to go rug shopping in the Bazaar, and we had to get used to the bright hues favored by the Iranians. Seeing us, a merchant would haul out the “Western-taste” carpets, done in shades of grey and tan. Yes, they were appealing to me, but I began to try to see things through other eyes. I didn’t want to be typed as “Western,” as if that limited my standards of taste.
My roommate and I got tired of our dark little kitchen in the house we rented in the midsection of Tehran. The landlady gave us permission to paint the interior of the glass-door-ed cupboard, and we chose—you guessed it!—orange and turquoise. I will never forget the land-lady’s expression when she saw it. Maybe similar to mine when I first went to the Paprika.
Is it not “proper” to suggest a widening of the concept of beauty? Is this authoritarianism: that another notion of beauty be presented? We are, after all, a country of many cultures, some of which do not easily conform to the one Anglo standard—for whom different shapes and colors and styles are appreciated.
I would simply suggest that holding one notion of beauty up as the only one a civilized person could possibly embrace is not a mountain-top idea. I am disappointed that a man of wisdom would not see this, but it does seem to happen in our polarized world, that what would normally be recognized is now shrouded in a partisan drape, not open to the large view.
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