Utopia

A man named Nonsenso begins any debate at a disadvantage. What kind of information or argument can be expected of such an individual? Can he articulate a rational idea, deduce a logical conclusion? Is the authority of his discourse to be trusted? Or is he simply a man with a name and a nature that are in perfect agreement? These are all questions which Thomas More leaves us to ask of Raphael Nonsenso, the garrulous sailor-philosopher who describes and extols Utopia in the book of the same name.

From his memories of a five year stay on the island, Raphael conjures up a thorough description of the social and political practices constituting the Utopian way of life, which he unabashedly proclaims "the happiest basis for a civilized community whichЉwill last for ever." The details of his speech are astounding and the extent of his knowledge staggering; he vividly describes everything from their wardrobes to their war tactics. It is a dazzling recounting, replete with all the details of fact and unburdened by the vague generalities of the imagination. And yet, at the end of the speech, More confesses to harboring "various objections." He does not call Raphael a liar, for to do so would be to call him a genius, as any man who could create such an enormous (and spontaneous) fiction must be. Indeed, More acknowledges Raphael's "undoubted learning and experience" while still insisting that Utopia seemed "in many cases perfectly ridiculous." Could it really be nonsense, albeit clever nonsense, after all? The answer seems to be yes, at least in part.

The first glimpse we get of Raphael is of a stranger and probably (More postulates) a sailor. Giles soon joins More, indicating Raphael as a friend and confirming that he is a sailor, but a rather extraordinary one at that. He is, according to Giles, "really more like Ulysses or even Plato." This is an ambiguous compliment at best. Ulysses, the great hero of Homer's Odyssey, is not only a globe trotter but also a crafty rhetorician, a persuader, and, to some degree, a manipulator (the Greek word for these traits is teknos ). Plato, of course, wrote his philosophy in dialogues, emphasizing rhetorical skill along with logic and reason. The reference to Plato also reminds the reader of that original Utopia, The Republic. Immediately, then, More (the author, not the character) associates Raphael with two great "talkers," known not so much for being honest as for being convincing.

He also associates Raphael with two Greeks. More calculates the comparison precisely ¬ just moments later Giles proclaims that Nonsenso "is quite a scholar" and that he knows "a tremendous lot of GreekЉbecause he's mainly interested in the philosophy." Latin, however, has never really appealed to him. Although the piquancy of this description loses some of its power in translation, More here clearly seems to contrast the Latin of the European Christian world (and of Utopia itself) with the Greek of antique, pagan culture. Latin is a language of action, public affairs, current events; Greek, on the other hand, lends itself to speculation, to thought, to dreamy theorizing. Implicitly, then, More's own political discourse supercedes Raphael's, since it best accommodates the political climate of their day. His skepticism about the sometimes "perfectly ridiculous" Utopia is perfectly in keeping with this view.

While these comparisons with figures from antiquity help, the primary way Raphael Nonsenso's character comes to be revealed is through the contrast between him and Thomas More. Beyond their Greek and Latin preferences, Nonsenso and More each maintain a fundamentally different political philosophy, as we see when Giles urges Nonsenso to obtain a court position and put his wisdom and experience to good use. Nonsenso disdains the idea of holding such a post and eschews the prospect of living and working "among people who are deeply prejudiced against everyone else's ideas." More chides him for his reluctance, telling him: "you've got so much theoretical knowledge, and so much practical experience, that either of them alone would be enough to make you an ideal member of any privy council." Raphael remains impervious to their praise, though. Rather than acquiescing, he tells an anecdote about a debate on capital punishment he held with a celebrated lawyer while on a sojourn to England. By the end of his story, he thinks he has proven that philosophy falls on deaf ears when related to politicians. Instead, he receives another rebuke from More: "there is a more civilized form of philosophy which knows the dramatic context, so to speak, tries to fit in with it, and plays an appropriate part in the current performance."

The "dramatic context" of this particular exchange is the pitting of the pragmatic More against the idealistic Nonsenso. While the thought of giving excellent advice to inferior minds exasperates Raphael, More finds that it is the philosopher's responsibility to make himself understood, to adapt his wisdom to his audience's level of comprehension. "Frankly," he confesses to Nonsenso, "I don't see the point Љof giving advise you know they'll never accept. What possible good could it do? How can they be expected to take in a totally unfamiliar line of thought, which goes against all their deepest prejudice?" This deftly undercuts Nonsenso's criticism of European society: how will they ever improve if the wisest among them will not deign to give his advice unless guaranteed that it will be understood and implemented perfectly? If European politicians were so savvy and enlightened, they probably wouldn't have so many problems in the first place! There is no doubt that both More and Nonsenso dislike a great many of the customs and laws of European society, but while More expresses willingness to accept compromises on the road to perfection, Nonsenso demands the ideal or else no improvement at all.

An idealist who despises European convention, Raphael is a rather suspect source of information on Utopia. His political agenda threatens to overtake his factual account, as it indeed does at certain points in his narration. It is not really nonsense that he is dispensing, but rather strategic elaborations, additional details, and particular embellishments. No wonder More cannot overcome his suspicion that the description is, in the end, somewhat of a "grand absurdity."

The narrative begins reliably, which is to say it begins apolitically. Raphael first gives a magnificent account of the geographical and topographical intricacies of Utopia. He moves naturally into urban planning, agriculture, live stock, labor, food preparation and other little mundane practices