Dabir Tehrani explains why Omar Khayyam, the Iranian poet, mathematician and philosopher, is his Humanist Hero.
Omar Khayyam
One of my humanist heroes is Omar Khayyam, the Astronomer, Mathematician, Philosopher, and Poet from Iran. He was born at Naishapur in Khorassan province of Iran in the latter half of the eleventh, and died within the first quarter of the twelfth century CE, at an age over 85, in the same town.
In a then deeply religious atmosphere of Iran, and at a time that the kingdom was under the threat of Hassan Sabbah (a fellow student of Omar Khayyam, who had turned out to be like Osama Ben Laden of today), Khayyam dared to deny the existence of the ‘next life’ and to urge all to drink wine (against the Koran’s rule), to love and enjoy this only life.
When the Malik Shah, king of Iran, determined to reform the calendar, Omar Khayyam was one of the eight learned men employed to do it; the result was the Jalali era (so called from Jalal-ud-din, one of the king’s names) –’a computation of time,’ says Gibbon, ‘which surpasses the Julian, and approaches the accuracy of the Gregorian style.’ He is also the author of some astronomical tables, entitled Ziji-Malikshahi, and the French have republished and translated an Arabic Treatise of his on algebra.
Following are quoted from a preamble by Edward Fitzgerald, who has translated Khayyam’s Rubaiyat (Quatrains) into English:
Omar was too honest of Heart as well of Head for {floating luxuriously between Heaven and Earth, and this World and the Next, on the wings of a poetical expression that might serve indifferently for either}. Having failed (however mistakenly) of finding any Providence but Destiny, and any World but This, he set about making the most of it; preferring rather to soothe the Soul through the Senses into Acquiescence with Things as he saw them, than to perplex it with vain disquietude after what they might be…”
And:
Professor Cowell, to whom I owe the Particulars of Omar’s Life, concludes his Review by comparing him with Lucretius, both as to natural Temper and Genius, and as acted upon by the Circumstances in which he lived. Both indeed were men of subtle, strong, and cultivated Intellect, fine Imagination, and Hearts passionate for Truth and Justice; who justly revolted from their Country’s false Religion, and false, or foolish, Devotion to it; but who fell short of replacing what they subverted by such better Hope as others, with no better Revelation to guide them, had yet made a Law to themselves. Lucretius indeed, with such material as Epicurus furnished, satisfied himself with the theory of a vast machine fortuitously constructed, and acting by a Law that implied no Legislator; and so composing himself into a Stoical rather than Epicurean severity of Attitude… Omar, more desperate, or more careless of any so complicated System as resulted in nothing but hopeless Necessity, flung his own Genius and Learning with a bitter or humorous jest into the general Ruin which their insufficient glimpses only served to reveal; and, pretending sensual pleasure, as the serious purpose of Life, only diverted himself with speculative problems of Deity, Destiny, Matter and Spirit, Good and Evil, and other such questions, easier to start than to run down, and the pursuit of which becomes a very weary sport at last!.
And Fitzgerald ends his introduction by:
However, as there is some traditional presumption, and certainly the opinion of some learned men, in favour of Omar’s being a Sufi—and even something of a Saint–those who please may so interpret his Wine and Cup-bearer. On the other hand, as there is far more historical certainty of his being a Philosopher, of scientific Insight and Ability far beyond that of the Age and Country he lived in; of such moderate worldly Ambition as becomes a Philosopher, and such moderate wants as rarely satisfy a Debauchee; other readers may be content to believe with me that, while the Wine Omar celebrates is simply the Juice of the Grape, he bragg’d more than he drank of it, in very defiance perhaps of that Spiritual Wine which left its Votaries sunk in Hypocrisy or Disgust.
Omar Khayyam’s poetry speaks for itself (as translated by Edward Fitzgerald):
Dreaming when Dawn’s Left Hand was in the Sky
I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry,
“Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup
Before Life’s Liquor in its Cup be dry.”
And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted–”Open then the Door.
You know how little while we have to stay,
And, once departed, may return no more.”
“How sweet is mortal Sovranty!”–think some:
Others–”How blest the Paradise to come!”
Ah, take the Cash in hand and waive the Rest;
Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!
Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust Descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer and–sans End!
Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare,
And those that after a TO-MORROW stare,
A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries
“Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There.”
[Muezzin: The person who cries calling for prayer from a minaret tower]
Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss’d
Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust
Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn
Are scatter’d, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.
Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise
To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;
One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies;
The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
Into this Universe, and why not knowing,
Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing:
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.
Up from Earth’s Centre through the seventh Gate
I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,
And many Knots unravel’d by the Road;
But not the Knot of Human Death and Fate.
[Remember that he was an astronomer.]
There was a Door to which I found no Key:
There was a Veil past which I could not see:
Some little Talk awhile of ME and THEE
There seemed–and then no more of THEE and ME.
Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn
My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn:
And Lip to Lip it murmur’d–”While you live,
Drink!–for once dead you never shall return.”
Ah, fill the Cup:–what boots it to repeat
How Time is slipping underneath our Feet:
Unborn TO-MORROW and dead YESTERDAY,
Why fret about them if TO-DAY be sweet!
The mighty Mahmud, the victorious Lord,
That all the misbelieving and black Horde
Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul
Scatters and slays with his enchanted Sword.
For in and out, above, about, below,
‘Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show,
Play’d in a Box whose Candle is the Sun,
Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.
And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop’t we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to IT for help–for It
Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.
Oh Thou who didst with Pitfall and with Gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in,
Thou wilt not with Predestination round
Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?
Oh Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And who with Eden didst devise the Snake;
For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man
Is blacken’d, Man’s Forgiveness give–and take!
And strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot
Some could articulate, while others not:
And suddenly one more impatient cried–
“Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?”
Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,
And wash my Body whence the life has died,
And in a Windingsheet of Vineleaf wrapt,
So bury me by some sweet Gardenside.
And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted–”Open then the Door!
“You know how little while we have to stay,
And, once departed, may return no more.”
This post is part of a series written by members, friends and Distinguished Supporters of the British Humanist Association about their own “humanist heroes”.
You can find out more at www.humanism.org.uk/humanism/humanist-tradition/heroes
Dabir Tehrani is an Honorary Professor of Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh. He worked 50 years in oil industry, 25 years in Iran, and retired in 2007. He is a member of the British Humanist Association, American Humanist Association, the Humanist Society of Scotland, European Humanist Federation and the International Humanist and Ethical Union (IHEU). He is on the Management Committee of the United Nations Association – Scotland.
This article by Tom Rees was first published on Epiphenom. It is licensed under Creative Commons.
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