Reflections on C.S. Lewis, “Men without Chests”

by Dr. Tristan J. Rogers

The “man without a chest” lacks the spirited part of the soul, prioritizing either his head or his gut. But the just man, because his soul is well-ordered, is the one who responds properly to objective value in the world: truth, goodness, and beauty. 

C.S. Lewis’ The Abolition of Man (1943) is a classic of classical education. While its clunky subtitle (Reflections on education with special reference to the teaching of English in the upper forms of schools) suggests a more immediate concern, Lewis simultaneously diagnoses the malady of modern education and prescribes a since forgotten ancient remedy.

Modern education, as Lewis understands it, unwittingly forms “men without chests,” that is, human beings without the capacity for the virtues of character, those habits of the heart like courage that enable us to flourish. More broadly, modern education sanctions an attack on our humanity, as not just rational beings, but spiritual beings, made in the image of God. Lewis’ critique of modern education, and its inherent subjectivism, is therefore also a defense of universalist, objective values.

Subjectivism is the view that when we make statements about truth and falsity, we are not really describing reality as it is (i.e., objectively), but rather reporting information about our own minds (i.e., subjectively). Lewis takes as a paradigm of subjectivism the views put forth in what he calls “the little green book,” in fact, an English textbook in common circulation at the time. The authors of the text (pseudonymously “Gaius” and “Titius”) analyze the well-known story of Coleridge at the waterfall. Upon hearing one tourist refer to the waterfall as “sublime” and the other as “pretty,” Coleridge endorses the first appraisal, but rejects the second. Gaius and Titius, however, are unimpressed:

When the man said This is sublime, he appeared to be making a remark about the waterfall…Actually…he was not making a remark about the waterfall, but a remark about his own feelings. What he was saying was really…I have sublime feelings.

For the subjectivist, there is no truth, only different points of view. “Man is the measure of all things,” as Protagoras put it. Our minds construct the world, not bear witness to the beauty of God’s creation. Subjectivism is more troubling in the realm of morality, where, as Shakespeare’s Hamlet says, “nothing is good or bad but thinking makes it so.” Some people, we might admit, may simply not appreciate the beauty of a waterfall.

But when someone claims that slavery is wrong, is he simply reporting having negative feelings about slavery? That was the view of many 20th century philosophers, such as A.J. Ayer, who defended “emotivism,” the theory that moral statements are reducible to expressions of emotion. Emotivism was the long result of an Enlightenment debate about the foundations of morality, absent a then retreating theological worldview. For if there is no objective, external standard of morality, culminating in a higher power, God, moral statements can have no other reference point than the subject’s feelings. 

Lewis’ way out of this morass is to call attention to the fact that human beings have the capacity to respond not only to facts, but also to values. The fact of a hungry baby calls out for a moral response. The one who is deaf to its calls is deficient in feelings of care, while the one who is overly sensitive to every call of need lacks judgment. The virtues, Aristotle thought, were a mean state between these extremes of excess and deficiency, and Lewis seems to rely on this idea to describe the person who properly responds to value in the world. For there are two ways to miss the beauty of the waterfall. One can be “above,” as Lewis describes it, and “debunk” the waterfall as a particular geological formation with no inherent beauty; or one can be “below” the waterfall and regard it as merely “pretty,” but not worthy of contemplation or veneration. The man of “true sensibility,” however, has the virtue of attending to what has value, and he regards the waterfall as not only beautiful, but sublime. The waterfall is beautiful, therefore, I ought to revere it, and likewise with the other two transcendentals: this is good, therefore, I ought to pursue it; this is true, therefore, I ought to believe it. 

What is this objective value that we can respond to? Lewis calls it the Tao, a concept in Eastern philosophy that denotes “the way,” “the path,” “righteousness,” etc. For Christians, it is naturally assimilated to the divine logos, or “the holy spirit,” being itself. When Moses asks God who he is, He responds: I am that I am, or rather “I am pure being itself.” This is the objective value that human beings, having been created in the image of God, are capable of grasping with our reason.

How then should we respond to the Tao? It is tempting to say that we suffer from a lack of reason in relation to God. But Lewis takes another tack. It is not a lack of reason that modern man suffers from, but a lack of spirit, what the Greeks called thumos. In Plato’s classic tripartite theory of the soul, the spirited part is the seat of courage and other well-ordered emotions, while the rational part captures wisdom, and the appetitive part captures moderation (or temperance). When all three parts work together, however—when “the head (reason) rules the belly (appetites) through the chest (spirited)”—then there is justice in the soul. The “man without a chest” lacks the spirited part of the soul, prioritizing either his head or his gut. But the just man, because his soul is well-ordered, is the one who responds properly to objective value in the world: truth, goodness, and beauty. 

Where, then, does this leave God? Saint Augustine spoke of our deepest desire as a spiritual desire for God: “our heart is restless until it rests in you.” With this higher order desire, then, we transcend the competition between head, heart, and chest, resting our hearts in God’s justice. The way back from the abyss of modern education, therefore, must pass through God’s grace. For neither reason nor appetite can satisfy our deepest desire.

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Dr. Tristan J. Rogers partners with Donum Dei Classical Academy as our Logic Latin and Informal Logic Teacher. Dr. Rogers has taught philosophy at many different institutions since 2017 and comes to Donum Dei with an enthusiasm for classical education.