“The Case for Socialism,” Part Two, pages 105-117
Picking up from Part One with the remainder of Russell’s nine arguments for socialism….
6. The Emancipation of Women and the Welfare of Young Children
The economic dependence of women, whose housework is unremunerated, on their husbands cannot easily be remedied absent socialism. The state needs to see to the financial demands of children, and wives need to work outside of the house: architectural adjustments and the provision of nursery schools are part of the requisite reforms.
7. Art The privacy fetish undermines public art, and this predilection also can be overcome with socialism.
Commercial motives are holding back the development of cinema: some observers even believe that the apex of the cinematic art lies in Soviet Russia. Profit-motivated authors, too, temper their writing to preclude offense and produce pap to widen their appeal. The state monopoly of publishing that an insecure socialist state would offer could be worse [-- a concern that Russell expressed years earlier.] In a secure socialist state, however, more free time for creative activity, and a norm that anyone’s work can be published if the expenses are privately covered, would lead to more creativity than now exists.
8. Unprofitable Public Services
There are many public goods, such as defense, that are poorly provided by individual, profit-oriented activity alone, and as a result, these goods are provided by the government. A recent addition has been public health measures, which the private enterprise fanatics have opposed, but which bring substantial benefits in practice. Private enterprise in this realm might involve blackmail via privately profitable threats to spread a plague: better that quarantine be a public mandate.
The scope for public provision of services has expanded, with education now being largely a public matter, though religious, charitable, and profit-oriented schools also exist. (“On the whole, the profit motive has had little influence on education, and that little bad [p. 108].”) Even areas dominated by private provision of goods and services are regulated by the government, and rightly so, as the spillover effects are often broad and long. Residents in one neighborhood of a city work in other neighborhoods, so multiple areas are affected through behavior that in itself is geographically isolated. Transport and economic development increase interdependence and undermine the self-sufficiency of towns and villages. Power stations have monopoly control, and unfettered, that control could be exercised in an extortionate fashion. Roads, railroads, and airplanes all advance, heightening geographical spillovers.
9. War
War is too dangerous to risk, and socialism holds the potential to reduce the risk of war – which is not to say that war is a capitalist invention. Economic motives are traditionally prominent in war-making, but so are status motives: spirited men enjoy war, and enjoy that women like men who are successful soldiers. Global socialism would be an effective antidote to war, but socialism in the largest, most powerful countries, would also offer substantial protection.
The intellectual case against war is now strong and widely shared, bolstered by the sufferings of both the winners and the losers from the previous war [WWI]. The next war will involve even more damage and death to civilians. Entire cities can be destroyed, and Britain has lost its longstanding immunity against invasion.
Despite the broad desire for peace, further war is on the near horizon. “The proximate cause, of course, is the harshness of the Versailles Treaty, with the consequent growth of militant nationalism in Germany [p. 110].” Nonetheless, the next war likely will bring a still harsher peace, and the process will repeat itself. So the answer lies not in winning a war but by ending the causes of conflict, which primarily are economic.
Economies of scale help to stoke the rivalry. Large factories can undersell small factories, so manufacturers need access to a huge market to be profitable. The US domestic industry has such a market, but the manufacturers of Britain, France, and Germany do not. Further, much industrial demand (such as for steel) comes from armaments, so industries profit from international tensions. German and French steel makers believe that they will flourish when their country wins the next war (with the costs borne by others), though their unsurprising confidence is unwarranted. The valuable ore in Lorraine switched from German to French hands after the last war, providing an example of the economic benefits of victory, and making Germans keen for their turn.
The capture of the state by large industries is facilitated by their tapping into popular sentiments, such as fear or resentment. Sophisticated self-interest argues for cooperation among European nations in ways that can improve well-being generally, but voices of reason are drowned out by nationalistic cant – and the cant itself is stoked by those with a financial interest in keeping tensions high. This is the mechanism through which modern capitalism causes war: the drive for profits produces propaganda that appeals to the worser angels of our nature. [Smedley Butler’s phrase “War is a racket” still echoes today. – RBR] An international democratic socialism that conducted the affairs of large industry in the interests of society instead of for profits would eliminate this mechanism for militarism – and even a partial socialism, comprising the most powerful countries, would go a long way to ending militarism.
Beyond the nine advantages already adduced, socialism can mitigate other problems. Decentralized, profit-oriented investment decisions lead to the absurdity of investment booms followed by low prices and bankruptcies. [This was a major part of the Soviet critique of capitalism, as put forth, for instance, in their 1930 book aimed at explaining central planning to young people, New Russia’s Primer. – RBR] Under socialism, transitions from old to new technologies can be made gradual, with younger workers being retrained for the new jobs; further, shorter work days will keep unemployment low. Those who are unemployed but who are willing to work will not suffer financially from unemployment. And the productivity gains from technological improvements can be shared between higher living standards and increased leisure.
Economic dependence on other individuals will decline under socialism, replaced by both less uncertainty and the state as provider. Wives will not be dependent on their husbands, and children will be less dependent on the qualities of their parents.
Socialism holds the potential to be good for virtually everyone, by sharply limiting economic insecurity and by decreasing the likelihood of war. The belief of some communists that socialism can only be introduced at the point of a proletarian sword in a class war is unfounded. Socialism has developed in the minds of its opponents an unnecessary and unfortunate connection both to atheism and to tyrannical rule. Nonetheless, socialism is consistent with religious views of all stripes, and most tyrannies are of the reactionary sort (though in battling these regimes, socialism might be contaminated with some of their bad features). “But in countries which still permit some degree of free thought and free speech, I believe that the Socialist case can, with ardour and patience combined, be so presented as to persuade much more than half the population [p. 115].” Perhaps there will be counter-revolutionaries, but their numbers will be small, and overcoming their opposition will not induce a socialist tyranny. And if the majority is not in favor of socialism, then it should not be imposed, in keeping with standard practice in democratic societies. [This is a point Russell repeatedly made years earlier.]
Some people say that the slow, evolutionary methods of introducing socialism are unrealistic in a world where fascism has taken hold. This might be true in fascist countries themselves, but is not the case in France, Britain, and America. Indeed, both France and Britain have socialist political parties with considerable support. In Britain, the socialists could soon be in charge. But even in power, they will face obstacles to implementing their policies, and a forcible implementation will be a temptation. But again, force will be to no avail in making socialist policies lasting. Indeed, departures from democratic methods strengthen the hand of fascists, not socialists.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Sunday, January 18, 2015
In Praise of Idleness, Chapter Seven, Part One
“The Case for Socialism,” part one, pages 91-104
Chapter 7 is sufficiently long that following long-established RBR precedent, its summentary will be broken into two parts. This is part one…
Most current socialists are Marxists, and accept that a proletarian-based revolution is the only path to socialism. This dogma repels non-proletarian would-be sympathizers, and many non-proletarians think a preemptive strike against socialists might be better than waiting for their own defeat in the coming class war. Fascism draws some support in this fashion; more generally, the equating of socialism with Marxism makes it very hard for socialist ideas to make headway in the West.
Though I [Russell] am a fervent supporter of socialist ideas, for me, socialism is not fundamentally about class war or economic fairness. “I regard it primarily as an adjustment to machine production demanded by considerations of common sense, and calculated to increase the happiness, not only of proletarians, but of all except a tiny minority of the human race [p. 91].” The violence associated with a transition to socialism is not inherent to it, but is a byproduct of the attitudes of its intemperate supporters.
The definition of socialism includes state control of the commanding heights of the economy, as well as democratic control of the state. Marx and other early socialists would concur with these descriptions of socialism, but the Bolsheviks opted to limit political power to members of the party vanguard. Such a regime might be part of a transition to socialism, but a sustainable socialist system requires democracy to go along with social ownership of the economy. “Unless there is popular control, there can be no reason to expect the State to conduct its economic enterprises except for its own enrichment, and therefore exploitation will merely take a new form [p. 92].”
Some small-scale private enterprise, including construction and finance, is compatible with socialism. People can be personally wealthy, but they cannot be coupon clippers, as there will be no large publicly traded companies in which to invest, and such investments would be prohibited. Wealth disparities would be minimized when interest incomes are unavailable – but only disparities that do not confer power over other individuals would be permissible.
Socialism offers many advantages, but they probably would not be realizable if the socialism were achieved after a protracted, bitter, and militarized class war. The analysis here presupposes a largely peaceful transition to socialism. The path could be more peaceful if socialists would focus on the advantages of economic organization, as opposed to envy of the rich. Here are nine of the many arguments in support of socialism. [The numbering and the italicized titles of the pro-socialism arguments are copied directly from Russell, but I suppress quotation marks in this instance – RBR]:
1. The Breakdown of the Profit Motive The belief that the pursuit of profit would lead to proper decisions about what and how much to produce once was reasonable, but no longer is so. Large-scale manufacturers face great uncertainty about the salability of their products. If they cannot make a profit, their capacity is unutilized (much of the capital stock is not easily transferable to other industries) and their employees are let go. The reduced incomes of the employees in turn reduce spending, so other businesses cannot sell their wares. Thus a miscalculation in a small part of the economy can cascade throughout the system. Further, economies of scale make it imperative to capture a large market, which leads to economic imperialism. In the transition to market domination by the largest producers, many sizeable manufacturers will be driven out of business, too.
If Henry Ford discovers a cheaper way to produce cars, the resulting bankruptcies of competitors carry with them enormous social costs, but these costs do not form any part of Ford’s profit-seeking decision calculus. During the transition to Ford’s market dominance, the full costs of supplying cars – which could include riots and repressive measures – increase. Capitalism is based on private profit, not on overall social wellbeing.
2. The Possibility of Leisure Surely productivity has reached the point that fine living standards could be achieved with four hours of work per day for healthy adults. But work and leisure are not evenly distributed, so some people work long hours, while others are unemployed. [This is covering ground that Russell explored in the titular essay of In Praise of Idleness; he acknowledges this connection in an initial footnote on page 98.] Despite the unemployment, average working hours now exceed four hours, indicating that some time is wasted or is utilized to produce goods beyond the necessities and “simple comforts [p. 99]” that comprise a reasonable living standard. The waste is prodigal: advertising and marketing, the excess capacity resulting from private enterprise, trade restrictions inspired by nationalism that prevent goods from being produced in the lowest-cost fashion or location. “Then there is the waste involved in armaments, and in military training, which involves the whole male population wherever there is compulsory military service [p. 100].” In our current economic organization, a reduction in such waste would have the paradoxical effect of worsening the lot of the working class. [Russell’s point provides a faint echo of Mandeville.]
3. Economic Insecurity Most people in today’s society have good reason to fear that they will become destitute -- if they are not already destitute. This pervading terror undermines happiness and stokes societal madness. The security that is at the root of most interest in wealth is unavailable, leading to a sort of recklessness in decisionmaking. “Economic security would do more to increase the happiness of civilised communities than any other change that can be imagined, except the prevention of war [p. 101].” People can be required to work if that is socially needed, but they should not be punished economically for an undersupply of jobs. Financial security with job retraining for those whose professions see reduced demand might mean that the pay of the highest earners is reduced, but it would be worth that cost. Few people work out of hope for an outsized economic windfall. [Russell noted in 1919 that most people would be happier working than by receiving the same wages without working.] Honor can be a significant motivator, and could be more socially useful if honors were distributed in ways that mirrored social benefits better than financial returns now do. The desire for success generally promotes the social good; the desire for huge wealth no more conduces to societal wellbeing than do other forms of gluttony.
4. The Unemployed Rich Many rich people are quite idle, and though they are unsophisticated, they and their bad taste often control the production of cultural goods. Art could do better under socialism than under this form of capitalism. [Russell devoted a chapter of his 1919 book Proposed Roads to Freedom to creative endeavor under socialism.] The idle rich also provide the customers for innumerable and unnecessary small shops, all selling the same items in a desultory exchange which is a waste of everyone’s time. All of the retainers catering to the perceived needs of the idle rich suffer moral and intellectual harm from their economic dependence upon foolish wealthy people.
5. Education Access to higher education is typically available only to the well-to-do, so much talent is wasted. State dominance in the education sphere assures that ideas that are not supportive of the status quo will be suppressed. [Shades here of Russell’s Education and the Good Life. ] It will require a socialist regime secure in its power to remedy these longstanding defects of the education system.
Chapter 7 is sufficiently long that following long-established RBR precedent, its summentary will be broken into two parts. This is part one…
Most current socialists are Marxists, and accept that a proletarian-based revolution is the only path to socialism. This dogma repels non-proletarian would-be sympathizers, and many non-proletarians think a preemptive strike against socialists might be better than waiting for their own defeat in the coming class war. Fascism draws some support in this fashion; more generally, the equating of socialism with Marxism makes it very hard for socialist ideas to make headway in the West.
Though I [Russell] am a fervent supporter of socialist ideas, for me, socialism is not fundamentally about class war or economic fairness. “I regard it primarily as an adjustment to machine production demanded by considerations of common sense, and calculated to increase the happiness, not only of proletarians, but of all except a tiny minority of the human race [p. 91].” The violence associated with a transition to socialism is not inherent to it, but is a byproduct of the attitudes of its intemperate supporters.
The definition of socialism includes state control of the commanding heights of the economy, as well as democratic control of the state. Marx and other early socialists would concur with these descriptions of socialism, but the Bolsheviks opted to limit political power to members of the party vanguard. Such a regime might be part of a transition to socialism, but a sustainable socialist system requires democracy to go along with social ownership of the economy. “Unless there is popular control, there can be no reason to expect the State to conduct its economic enterprises except for its own enrichment, and therefore exploitation will merely take a new form [p. 92].”
Some small-scale private enterprise, including construction and finance, is compatible with socialism. People can be personally wealthy, but they cannot be coupon clippers, as there will be no large publicly traded companies in which to invest, and such investments would be prohibited. Wealth disparities would be minimized when interest incomes are unavailable – but only disparities that do not confer power over other individuals would be permissible.
Socialism offers many advantages, but they probably would not be realizable if the socialism were achieved after a protracted, bitter, and militarized class war. The analysis here presupposes a largely peaceful transition to socialism. The path could be more peaceful if socialists would focus on the advantages of economic organization, as opposed to envy of the rich. Here are nine of the many arguments in support of socialism. [The numbering and the italicized titles of the pro-socialism arguments are copied directly from Russell, but I suppress quotation marks in this instance – RBR]:
1. The Breakdown of the Profit Motive The belief that the pursuit of profit would lead to proper decisions about what and how much to produce once was reasonable, but no longer is so. Large-scale manufacturers face great uncertainty about the salability of their products. If they cannot make a profit, their capacity is unutilized (much of the capital stock is not easily transferable to other industries) and their employees are let go. The reduced incomes of the employees in turn reduce spending, so other businesses cannot sell their wares. Thus a miscalculation in a small part of the economy can cascade throughout the system. Further, economies of scale make it imperative to capture a large market, which leads to economic imperialism. In the transition to market domination by the largest producers, many sizeable manufacturers will be driven out of business, too.
If Henry Ford discovers a cheaper way to produce cars, the resulting bankruptcies of competitors carry with them enormous social costs, but these costs do not form any part of Ford’s profit-seeking decision calculus. During the transition to Ford’s market dominance, the full costs of supplying cars – which could include riots and repressive measures – increase. Capitalism is based on private profit, not on overall social wellbeing.
2. The Possibility of Leisure Surely productivity has reached the point that fine living standards could be achieved with four hours of work per day for healthy adults. But work and leisure are not evenly distributed, so some people work long hours, while others are unemployed. [This is covering ground that Russell explored in the titular essay of In Praise of Idleness; he acknowledges this connection in an initial footnote on page 98.] Despite the unemployment, average working hours now exceed four hours, indicating that some time is wasted or is utilized to produce goods beyond the necessities and “simple comforts [p. 99]” that comprise a reasonable living standard. The waste is prodigal: advertising and marketing, the excess capacity resulting from private enterprise, trade restrictions inspired by nationalism that prevent goods from being produced in the lowest-cost fashion or location. “Then there is the waste involved in armaments, and in military training, which involves the whole male population wherever there is compulsory military service [p. 100].” In our current economic organization, a reduction in such waste would have the paradoxical effect of worsening the lot of the working class. [Russell’s point provides a faint echo of Mandeville.]
3. Economic Insecurity Most people in today’s society have good reason to fear that they will become destitute -- if they are not already destitute. This pervading terror undermines happiness and stokes societal madness. The security that is at the root of most interest in wealth is unavailable, leading to a sort of recklessness in decisionmaking. “Economic security would do more to increase the happiness of civilised communities than any other change that can be imagined, except the prevention of war [p. 101].” People can be required to work if that is socially needed, but they should not be punished economically for an undersupply of jobs. Financial security with job retraining for those whose professions see reduced demand might mean that the pay of the highest earners is reduced, but it would be worth that cost. Few people work out of hope for an outsized economic windfall. [Russell noted in 1919 that most people would be happier working than by receiving the same wages without working.] Honor can be a significant motivator, and could be more socially useful if honors were distributed in ways that mirrored social benefits better than financial returns now do. The desire for success generally promotes the social good; the desire for huge wealth no more conduces to societal wellbeing than do other forms of gluttony.
4. The Unemployed Rich Many rich people are quite idle, and though they are unsophisticated, they and their bad taste often control the production of cultural goods. Art could do better under socialism than under this form of capitalism. [Russell devoted a chapter of his 1919 book Proposed Roads to Freedom to creative endeavor under socialism.] The idle rich also provide the customers for innumerable and unnecessary small shops, all selling the same items in a desultory exchange which is a waste of everyone’s time. All of the retainers catering to the perceived needs of the idle rich suffer moral and intellectual harm from their economic dependence upon foolish wealthy people.
5. Education Access to higher education is typically available only to the well-to-do, so much talent is wasted. State dominance in the education sphere assures that ideas that are not supportive of the status quo will be suppressed. [Shades here of Russell’s Education and the Good Life. ] It will require a socialist regime secure in its power to remedy these longstanding defects of the education system.
Saturday, January 10, 2015
In Praise of Idleness, Chapter Six
“Scylla and Charybdis, or Communism and Fascism,” pages 82-90
I [Russell] do not subscribe to the notion that one must, in effect, be a supporter of communism or a supporter of fascism: I am opposed to both.
First, I’ll provide eight reasons for not supporting Third International-style communism. (1) I see no reason to be convinced by either Marx’s or Lenin’s philosophy. History lacks a dialectical determinant, contra Marx and Hegel. (2) Marx’s economics is a hodgepodge designed to make classical political economy support Marxian politics. (3) A scientific outlook precludes regarding any thinker as infallible or any text as sacred. (4) The undemocratic nature of communism assures a tyranny by the powerful – in this case, the all-powerful state. Marx recognizes the potential for tyranny by all forms of government except communism. (5) The joining of political to economic control under communism would stifle individual liberty. Unpopular ideas, which are the source of progress, would be squelched by communist bureaucrats. (6) Marxism divides the world along class lines, being antagonistic to white-collar workers while glorifying manual workers. (7) The focus on the class war is likely to lead to a real war, with catastrophic consequences. Friends of socialism should aim for gradual persuasion, not military conquest. (8) Hate is a major driving force of Marxism and communism, and it will result in severe oppression by Marxists in power. [Russell’s critique of Marx and communism in In Praise of Idleness echoes many other Russellian writings on this theme.]
I [Russell] share many of the ends of communism, but oppose the means; for fascism, I object to both the means and the end. Though there are various strains of fascism, and more are evolving, they share some central elements. Fascism “is anti-democratic, it is nationalistic, it is capitalistic, and it appeals to those sections of the middle class which suffer through modern developments and expect to suffer still more if Socialism or Communism becomes established [p. 85].” (The theoretical version of communism also is anti-democratic, but only temporarily, and aims to promote the wellbeing of wage earners, a label which eventually is intended to include everyone.) Fascism is not interested in the general welfare; rather, it concentrates on favored groups which are deemed to be superior. The unfavored will be forced into serfdom, serving their masters. It can be hoped that fascism will provide a well-organized prison for the non-elect, but that is the extent of rational expectation. The economic planning that fascism took from the socialists is aimed to improve the welfare only of the favored folks – which in Germany and Italy, are the already dominant economic classes.
The focus on an elect within Fascist ideology is a throwback to a pre-Christian, pre-democratic era, when not all people were created equal, and the purpose of the unwashed was to promote the grandeur of the special classes.
Fascism in power would exacerbate the worst features of capitalism. The lower classes would barely receive subsistence wages, and effectively would be slaves. This is the outcome under dictatorship (as in Russia) or under a capitalism unconstrained by democracy. But fascism in power is a short-run phenomenon, as the focus on heavy industry turns into a prelude to war. The war will be highly destructive, and fascism will be one of its casualties.
Fascism cannot be said to represent a coherent body of thought. Its appeal is to the emotions of small shopkeepers and others whose interests in the modern world are under threat, as well as to the hunger for power of some wealthy industrialists. Its irrationality lies in its inability to actually serve the long-term interests of those whom it aims to help, though it does provide some short-term psychological comfort.
Ensconced traditions of representative government offer Britain and the US some inoculation against fascism; France perhaps is more at risk, especially under wartime conditions.
Commonalities in communism and fascism admit for common, and telling, objections. Both isms involve a small group of people trying to shape the whole population into a preconceived plan, to be cogs in the machine that the creators find so enticing. [Shades here of Adam Smith’s “man of system” treating humans as if they were chess pieces fit to be moved at the player’s behest, without regard to the humans’ own preferences – RBR.] People who do not readily enough fit the plan are disposed of. Such policies are both unethical, and, in the long run, unsuccessful.
As with plants, humans can be sheared into topiary-type designs – but the human subjects are not as passive as the plants. [Here Russell echoes his godfather John Stuart Mill.] One type of action for the trimmed man might be to learn the trade of the shearer, and to take up the shears himself, for those lower in the hierarchy. Pruning leads to such cruelty when it does not lead to listlessness. “And from a population with these characteristics no good thing is to be expected [p. 89].” [Compare with Mill’s On Liberty, just at the end: “a State which dwarfs its men, in order that they may be more docile instruments in its hands even for beneficial purposes—will find that with small men no great thing can really be accomplished; and that the perfection of machinery to which it has sacrificed everything, will in the end avail it nothing, for want of the vital power which, in order that the machine might work more smoothly, it has preferred to banish.” Reading Bertrand Russell has found occasion to cite this passage in the past.]
The dictatorial powers at the disposal of a fascist or communist state, combined with the theoretical necessity to suppress the subordinate elements of society, imply that a cruel tyrant will hold the reins. Someone with a humanitarian outlook will not survive the competition for control, or will have to forcibly override his own gentler inclinations. Any good intentions that may have accompanied the original path to power will eventually be lost, replaced with the need to maintain power.
The appeal of machinery makes it easy to view society in mechanical terms, with parts, not people, and where the controllers have a sort of omnipotent status. But unlike machines, humans themselves alter under treatment, whether they are the controlled or the controlling. The resulting uncertainty about the long-term effects of manipulation makes it unwise to invest control in a dictator. “The ultimate psychological argument for democracy and for patience is that an element of free growth, of go as you please and untrained natural living, is essential if men are not to become misshapen monsters [p. 90].” Fascism and communism are not the only choices, and certainly not desirable choices, as democracy remains a viable and preferred alternative. It is only the belief that fascism and communism exhaust the options that could make it so.
I [Russell] do not subscribe to the notion that one must, in effect, be a supporter of communism or a supporter of fascism: I am opposed to both.
First, I’ll provide eight reasons for not supporting Third International-style communism. (1) I see no reason to be convinced by either Marx’s or Lenin’s philosophy. History lacks a dialectical determinant, contra Marx and Hegel. (2) Marx’s economics is a hodgepodge designed to make classical political economy support Marxian politics. (3) A scientific outlook precludes regarding any thinker as infallible or any text as sacred. (4) The undemocratic nature of communism assures a tyranny by the powerful – in this case, the all-powerful state. Marx recognizes the potential for tyranny by all forms of government except communism. (5) The joining of political to economic control under communism would stifle individual liberty. Unpopular ideas, which are the source of progress, would be squelched by communist bureaucrats. (6) Marxism divides the world along class lines, being antagonistic to white-collar workers while glorifying manual workers. (7) The focus on the class war is likely to lead to a real war, with catastrophic consequences. Friends of socialism should aim for gradual persuasion, not military conquest. (8) Hate is a major driving force of Marxism and communism, and it will result in severe oppression by Marxists in power. [Russell’s critique of Marx and communism in In Praise of Idleness echoes many other Russellian writings on this theme.]
I [Russell] share many of the ends of communism, but oppose the means; for fascism, I object to both the means and the end. Though there are various strains of fascism, and more are evolving, they share some central elements. Fascism “is anti-democratic, it is nationalistic, it is capitalistic, and it appeals to those sections of the middle class which suffer through modern developments and expect to suffer still more if Socialism or Communism becomes established [p. 85].” (The theoretical version of communism also is anti-democratic, but only temporarily, and aims to promote the wellbeing of wage earners, a label which eventually is intended to include everyone.) Fascism is not interested in the general welfare; rather, it concentrates on favored groups which are deemed to be superior. The unfavored will be forced into serfdom, serving their masters. It can be hoped that fascism will provide a well-organized prison for the non-elect, but that is the extent of rational expectation. The economic planning that fascism took from the socialists is aimed to improve the welfare only of the favored folks – which in Germany and Italy, are the already dominant economic classes.
The focus on an elect within Fascist ideology is a throwback to a pre-Christian, pre-democratic era, when not all people were created equal, and the purpose of the unwashed was to promote the grandeur of the special classes.
Fascism in power would exacerbate the worst features of capitalism. The lower classes would barely receive subsistence wages, and effectively would be slaves. This is the outcome under dictatorship (as in Russia) or under a capitalism unconstrained by democracy. But fascism in power is a short-run phenomenon, as the focus on heavy industry turns into a prelude to war. The war will be highly destructive, and fascism will be one of its casualties.
Fascism cannot be said to represent a coherent body of thought. Its appeal is to the emotions of small shopkeepers and others whose interests in the modern world are under threat, as well as to the hunger for power of some wealthy industrialists. Its irrationality lies in its inability to actually serve the long-term interests of those whom it aims to help, though it does provide some short-term psychological comfort.
Ensconced traditions of representative government offer Britain and the US some inoculation against fascism; France perhaps is more at risk, especially under wartime conditions.
Commonalities in communism and fascism admit for common, and telling, objections. Both isms involve a small group of people trying to shape the whole population into a preconceived plan, to be cogs in the machine that the creators find so enticing. [Shades here of Adam Smith’s “man of system” treating humans as if they were chess pieces fit to be moved at the player’s behest, without regard to the humans’ own preferences – RBR.] People who do not readily enough fit the plan are disposed of. Such policies are both unethical, and, in the long run, unsuccessful.
As with plants, humans can be sheared into topiary-type designs – but the human subjects are not as passive as the plants. [Here Russell echoes his godfather John Stuart Mill.] One type of action for the trimmed man might be to learn the trade of the shearer, and to take up the shears himself, for those lower in the hierarchy. Pruning leads to such cruelty when it does not lead to listlessness. “And from a population with these characteristics no good thing is to be expected [p. 89].” [Compare with Mill’s On Liberty, just at the end: “a State which dwarfs its men, in order that they may be more docile instruments in its hands even for beneficial purposes—will find that with small men no great thing can really be accomplished; and that the perfection of machinery to which it has sacrificed everything, will in the end avail it nothing, for want of the vital power which, in order that the machine might work more smoothly, it has preferred to banish.” Reading Bertrand Russell has found occasion to cite this passage in the past.]
The dictatorial powers at the disposal of a fascist or communist state, combined with the theoretical necessity to suppress the subordinate elements of society, imply that a cruel tyrant will hold the reins. Someone with a humanitarian outlook will not survive the competition for control, or will have to forcibly override his own gentler inclinations. Any good intentions that may have accompanied the original path to power will eventually be lost, replaced with the need to maintain power.
The appeal of machinery makes it easy to view society in mechanical terms, with parts, not people, and where the controllers have a sort of omnipotent status. But unlike machines, humans themselves alter under treatment, whether they are the controlled or the controlling. The resulting uncertainty about the long-term effects of manipulation makes it unwise to invest control in a dictator. “The ultimate psychological argument for democracy and for patience is that an element of free growth, of go as you please and untrained natural living, is essential if men are not to become misshapen monsters [p. 90].” Fascism and communism are not the only choices, and certainly not desirable choices, as democracy remains a viable and preferred alternative. It is only the belief that fascism and communism exhaust the options that could make it so.
Friday, November 7, 2014
In Praise of Idleness, Chapter Five
“The Ancestry of Fascism,” pages 63-81
The dominant tenor of a country is influenced by political ideas of an earlier era; Soviet Russia, for instance, draws upon The Communist Manifesto of 1848. But for the ideas to be applied, they must meet a conducive environment, one prepared by economic and political events.
Newton’s revolution in the sciences brought hope that a similar deductive approach – often forgotten is the century of data collection that preceded Newton – could solve social and political problems. This hyper-rationalism reached its zenith with the Rights of Man doctrine popular at the time of the American and French revolutions. But by then, Hume had already laid the groundwork for undermining the deductive, ratiocinative method. Hume employed induction and empirical observation, while recognizing that induction could scarcely be scientific – and hence that science itself had unfirm foundations, rendering it as irrational as theology.
Nonetheless, Hume’s skeptical view towards science was for mental, not practical, consumption. For making our way in this world, science is our best bet.
Neither the continental nor the British followers of Hume were prepared to accept his agnosticism. “European thought has never recovered its previous wholeheartedness; among all the successors of Hume, sanity has meant superficiality, and profundity has meant some degree of madness [p. 65].”
Kant was driven to believe in things like God and causality which was not made easy in the shadow of Hume. So Kant resorted to inventing a distinction between pure and practical reason, where the lion’s share of living fell into the practical camp. But practical reason was just a blind for Kant’s own prejudices, not any logical truths. [Kant never seems to come off too well in Russell’s recounting.]
With no successful refutation of Hume in sight, we must admit that there is no clear demarcation between what constitutes reason and what constitutes unreason. But the embrace of reason tends to involve three features: a reliance upon persuasion and not force; a sincere presentation of arguments, an avoidance of disingenuousness; an eschewal of intuition when data and deduction are available. The Inquisition, political propaganda, and an appeal to the will of the gods are anti-reason, then.
Basing your arguments upon reason is an approach that generally assumes that you and your audience have shared interests. Despite the example of Mrs. Bond, you do not reason with those you intend to ingest. When the political class consisted of a small number of aristocrats, they could reason among their more-or-less equal selves. Diffusion of political power implies fewer shared starting points, and hence less matter for reason to work upon. The result is appeals to intuition; but intuitions differ, and conflict is likely.
The history of the world is replete with revolts against reason and the adoption of superstitions – as well as revolutions in the pro-reason direction. There is always an uneasy balance between the forces of reason and unreason; unreason has been growing since the 1860s. The new wave of unreason is distinguished from those of earlier epochs in that power, not salvation, is its aim. The camp of unreason can claim Carlyle and Nietzsche and Kipling; so far, Hitler is the culmination. In the opposite camp are socialists and utilitarians: “both are cosmopolitan, both are democratic, both appeal to economic self-interest [p. 68].”
Nietzsche provides a good account of what the fascists hope to achieve – a goal that rejects Bentham both with respect to happiness and with respect to being inclusive. [Bentham would have included all sentient beings in aggregating happiness or freedom from suffering – RBR.] That goal is to produce exceptional individuals, at the cost of the sacrifice of most of mankind. Goals, whether Nietzsche’s revolting one or more pleasant alternatives, cannot be said to be irrational: rationality involves matching means to given ends. Nonetheless, goals such as Nietzsche’s are closely connected to irrationality, as they all but imply a lack of impartiality. A goal that focuses on the creation and burnishing of great men is adopted by those who believe that they are great men.
The ideological parents of fascism share certain characteristics. In particular, will, power, and force take pride of place, as opposed to reason and happiness. A Spartan asceticism is advocated, with the goal of dominating others, not of building inner virtue. The proto-fascists adopt social Darwinism, where the units of struggle are races, not individuals, and where the winners are viewed as superior.
“Fichte has received less than his due share of credit for inaugurating this great movement [p. 70].” Fichte starts with the reflexive relation “I am I,” and decides that this declaration is an act of self creation; already, will is central to the story. Later, he declares that Germans are superior, based on the purity of their language. For Germans to maintain their purity, they must employ education to corral the freedom of the individual will. Germans should be economically self-sufficient, and universal military service should be mandatory, with patriotism, not defense, as the aim. Noble people will embrace such a self-sacrifice, and the ignoble must sacrifice, too – they do not count in themselves, and only are serfs meant to serve the noble. Democracy, which is the political twin of Bentham’s utilitarianism (and of Christianity, wherein every human being contains a soul), has no place in Fichte’s worldview.
So Fichte, like Marx’s communism, designates an elect, and those who adopt such views believe that they are the elect. But who are Fichte’s nobles? “There is no objective criterion of ‘nobility’ except success in war; therefore war is the necessary outcome of this creed [p. 72].”
Carlyle drew upon Fiche but added a sort of socialism that itself was not based so much on love for the proletariat as it was on a dislike of industrialization and newly-wealthy industrialists. Actual socialists are still sometimes taken in by Carlyle and his paeans to heroism, though those whom he views as heroic generally are brutal ruffians. There is little in Carlyle that would be objectionable to Nazis.
Mazzini, alternatively, identified the nation, not the individual, as the unit of heroism, and ranked Italy highest. But he shared with Carlyle the idea that duty is more important than individual or collective happiness. Democratic majorities have no moral significance, while people possess ingrained, intuitive, and correct notions of morality. But people have differing views on morality, so what Mazzini was proclaiming in practice was the superiority of his own moral views over the general will of the people.
The most recent addition to the intellectual underpinnings of fascism is racism, where certain races are declared to be superior for faux-Darwinian reasons. (Nietzsche supported breeding super-men, but their superiority did not lie in their race or nationality.) “About race, if politics were not involved it would be enough to say that nothing politically important is known [p. 74].” As far as we can tell, environment trumps genetics. We have no rational reasons for judging one race or nationality as superior to another. “The whole movement, from Fichte onwards, is a method of bolstering up self-esteem and lust for power by means of beliefs which have nothing in their favour except that they are flattering [p. 75].” Men become lunatics when their self-esteem is annihilated, so those who impose the annihilation shouldn’t be surprised when lunacy follows.
The seeds of anti-rationality ideologies abound, but only occasionally do they fall on fertile ground. The major strands of anti-rationalism – the emphasis on will and power, and the acceptance of intuitively-held propositions that could not withstand scientific scrutiny – hold appeal to industrially-oriented minds and to those whose loss of power is befuddling. War and industrialization, therefore, have prepared the ground for fascism. The large numbers of dispossessed (that is, those dispossessed of their former privileges) are used by the militarists and industrialists to adopt an ideology that embraces modern industry and war, but looks backwards in other matters.
The adoption of a fascist ideology by the industrialists is rational, in that such an ideology, in power, could well serve their interests; the dispossessed will not recover their lost glories, however, so that their embrace of fascism is irrational. Emotion overcomes the reason of the dispossessed, and the fascist leaders dole out irrational claims that feed this emotion. The militarists’ gain will involve untold human suffering, so while rational, it is deeply immoral.
The leading German industrialist Fritz Thyssen supports the Nazis because he thinks, incorrectly, that his economic interests will be served by Nazi policies, and socialism will be eradicated. “It is necessary for him to stir up German self-confidence and nationalist feeling to a dangerous degree, and unsuccessful war is the most probable outcome [p. 77].” [Recall that In Praise of Idleness was published in 1935.] The Germans might have early success in a military confrontation, but they won’t prevail in the long run: the Germans are repeating their mistake from the Great War, that of ignoring America.
Protestantism (with its rebellious spirit) might seem to be an ally of the Nazi movement. Certainly the proto-fascist thinkers, including Fichte, Carlyle, and Mazzini, had Calvinist or Lutheran leanings. But Protestantism shares many elements with Catholicism, and along these dimensions, Protestants cannot easily be reconciled to the Nazis. Perhaps organized Christianity can keep the Nazi menace at bay.
Christianity involves an ingrained respect for truth that is anathema to the Nazis. Galileo was persecuted on the grounds that his ideas were false; the Nazis reject relativity because its discoverer is Jewish, and truth is not even part of the argument. When objective truth leaves the field, the question of what to believe will be answered by might, not right.
Another force that promotes unreason is that many people of ability lack an alternative outlet for their love of power. Suburbs offer little in the way of public life. Suburb dwellers who commute to their white-collar work in a great metropolis have no role in governing, while at work, they take orders from their bosses. They would be prone towards socialist doctrines if snobbery did not keep them from associating with the working classes. An active spirit in these conditions would find fascism to offer a hopeful alternative.
Anti-reason, therefore, grows in politics on both the demand and the supply side. The demand comes from people whose current circumstances do not offer sufficient prospects, but they are unwilling to connect to a socialist movement that puts the working class in the vanguard. The supply comes from intelligent, wealthy men whose own interests are served by swelling certain types of hysteria. “Anti-Communism, fear of foreign armaments, and hatred of foreign competition, are the most important bogeys [p. 80].” These notions are not irrational per se, but they are used to hinder intelligent discussion of practical affairs.
Socialism and peace are what the world needs, but these do not conduce to the wellbeing of the powerful. Movements towards socialism and peace can be made to appear detrimental to large classes of society, and this appearance can be fostered by fomenting hysteria. Economic hardship eases the job of the merchants of unreason.
The rise of nationalism and class tension brings a plethora of “truths,” those of the English and those of the French, those of the wage earners and those of the capitalists. With the turn to unreason, these competing truths cannot encounter each other in rational discourse, leaving ongoing strife and war as the available fora. Reason appeals to universal standards, whereas unreason draws from private passions. Cooperative agreements are harder to come by when reason is swept away. Reason always is needed for human flourishing. The need is strongest when an impersonal rationality is “despised and rejected as the vain dream of men who lack the virility to kill where they cannot agree [p. 81].”
The dominant tenor of a country is influenced by political ideas of an earlier era; Soviet Russia, for instance, draws upon The Communist Manifesto of 1848. But for the ideas to be applied, they must meet a conducive environment, one prepared by economic and political events.
Newton’s revolution in the sciences brought hope that a similar deductive approach – often forgotten is the century of data collection that preceded Newton – could solve social and political problems. This hyper-rationalism reached its zenith with the Rights of Man doctrine popular at the time of the American and French revolutions. But by then, Hume had already laid the groundwork for undermining the deductive, ratiocinative method. Hume employed induction and empirical observation, while recognizing that induction could scarcely be scientific – and hence that science itself had unfirm foundations, rendering it as irrational as theology.
Nonetheless, Hume’s skeptical view towards science was for mental, not practical, consumption. For making our way in this world, science is our best bet.
Neither the continental nor the British followers of Hume were prepared to accept his agnosticism. “European thought has never recovered its previous wholeheartedness; among all the successors of Hume, sanity has meant superficiality, and profundity has meant some degree of madness [p. 65].”
Kant was driven to believe in things like God and causality which was not made easy in the shadow of Hume. So Kant resorted to inventing a distinction between pure and practical reason, where the lion’s share of living fell into the practical camp. But practical reason was just a blind for Kant’s own prejudices, not any logical truths. [Kant never seems to come off too well in Russell’s recounting.]
With no successful refutation of Hume in sight, we must admit that there is no clear demarcation between what constitutes reason and what constitutes unreason. But the embrace of reason tends to involve three features: a reliance upon persuasion and not force; a sincere presentation of arguments, an avoidance of disingenuousness; an eschewal of intuition when data and deduction are available. The Inquisition, political propaganda, and an appeal to the will of the gods are anti-reason, then.
Basing your arguments upon reason is an approach that generally assumes that you and your audience have shared interests. Despite the example of Mrs. Bond, you do not reason with those you intend to ingest. When the political class consisted of a small number of aristocrats, they could reason among their more-or-less equal selves. Diffusion of political power implies fewer shared starting points, and hence less matter for reason to work upon. The result is appeals to intuition; but intuitions differ, and conflict is likely.
The history of the world is replete with revolts against reason and the adoption of superstitions – as well as revolutions in the pro-reason direction. There is always an uneasy balance between the forces of reason and unreason; unreason has been growing since the 1860s. The new wave of unreason is distinguished from those of earlier epochs in that power, not salvation, is its aim. The camp of unreason can claim Carlyle and Nietzsche and Kipling; so far, Hitler is the culmination. In the opposite camp are socialists and utilitarians: “both are cosmopolitan, both are democratic, both appeal to economic self-interest [p. 68].”
Nietzsche provides a good account of what the fascists hope to achieve – a goal that rejects Bentham both with respect to happiness and with respect to being inclusive. [Bentham would have included all sentient beings in aggregating happiness or freedom from suffering – RBR.] That goal is to produce exceptional individuals, at the cost of the sacrifice of most of mankind. Goals, whether Nietzsche’s revolting one or more pleasant alternatives, cannot be said to be irrational: rationality involves matching means to given ends. Nonetheless, goals such as Nietzsche’s are closely connected to irrationality, as they all but imply a lack of impartiality. A goal that focuses on the creation and burnishing of great men is adopted by those who believe that they are great men.
The ideological parents of fascism share certain characteristics. In particular, will, power, and force take pride of place, as opposed to reason and happiness. A Spartan asceticism is advocated, with the goal of dominating others, not of building inner virtue. The proto-fascists adopt social Darwinism, where the units of struggle are races, not individuals, and where the winners are viewed as superior.
“Fichte has received less than his due share of credit for inaugurating this great movement [p. 70].” Fichte starts with the reflexive relation “I am I,” and decides that this declaration is an act of self creation; already, will is central to the story. Later, he declares that Germans are superior, based on the purity of their language. For Germans to maintain their purity, they must employ education to corral the freedom of the individual will. Germans should be economically self-sufficient, and universal military service should be mandatory, with patriotism, not defense, as the aim. Noble people will embrace such a self-sacrifice, and the ignoble must sacrifice, too – they do not count in themselves, and only are serfs meant to serve the noble. Democracy, which is the political twin of Bentham’s utilitarianism (and of Christianity, wherein every human being contains a soul), has no place in Fichte’s worldview.
So Fichte, like Marx’s communism, designates an elect, and those who adopt such views believe that they are the elect. But who are Fichte’s nobles? “There is no objective criterion of ‘nobility’ except success in war; therefore war is the necessary outcome of this creed [p. 72].”
Carlyle drew upon Fiche but added a sort of socialism that itself was not based so much on love for the proletariat as it was on a dislike of industrialization and newly-wealthy industrialists. Actual socialists are still sometimes taken in by Carlyle and his paeans to heroism, though those whom he views as heroic generally are brutal ruffians. There is little in Carlyle that would be objectionable to Nazis.
Mazzini, alternatively, identified the nation, not the individual, as the unit of heroism, and ranked Italy highest. But he shared with Carlyle the idea that duty is more important than individual or collective happiness. Democratic majorities have no moral significance, while people possess ingrained, intuitive, and correct notions of morality. But people have differing views on morality, so what Mazzini was proclaiming in practice was the superiority of his own moral views over the general will of the people.
The most recent addition to the intellectual underpinnings of fascism is racism, where certain races are declared to be superior for faux-Darwinian reasons. (Nietzsche supported breeding super-men, but their superiority did not lie in their race or nationality.) “About race, if politics were not involved it would be enough to say that nothing politically important is known [p. 74].” As far as we can tell, environment trumps genetics. We have no rational reasons for judging one race or nationality as superior to another. “The whole movement, from Fichte onwards, is a method of bolstering up self-esteem and lust for power by means of beliefs which have nothing in their favour except that they are flattering [p. 75].” Men become lunatics when their self-esteem is annihilated, so those who impose the annihilation shouldn’t be surprised when lunacy follows.
The seeds of anti-rationality ideologies abound, but only occasionally do they fall on fertile ground. The major strands of anti-rationalism – the emphasis on will and power, and the acceptance of intuitively-held propositions that could not withstand scientific scrutiny – hold appeal to industrially-oriented minds and to those whose loss of power is befuddling. War and industrialization, therefore, have prepared the ground for fascism. The large numbers of dispossessed (that is, those dispossessed of their former privileges) are used by the militarists and industrialists to adopt an ideology that embraces modern industry and war, but looks backwards in other matters.
The adoption of a fascist ideology by the industrialists is rational, in that such an ideology, in power, could well serve their interests; the dispossessed will not recover their lost glories, however, so that their embrace of fascism is irrational. Emotion overcomes the reason of the dispossessed, and the fascist leaders dole out irrational claims that feed this emotion. The militarists’ gain will involve untold human suffering, so while rational, it is deeply immoral.
The leading German industrialist Fritz Thyssen supports the Nazis because he thinks, incorrectly, that his economic interests will be served by Nazi policies, and socialism will be eradicated. “It is necessary for him to stir up German self-confidence and nationalist feeling to a dangerous degree, and unsuccessful war is the most probable outcome [p. 77].” [Recall that In Praise of Idleness was published in 1935.] The Germans might have early success in a military confrontation, but they won’t prevail in the long run: the Germans are repeating their mistake from the Great War, that of ignoring America.
Protestantism (with its rebellious spirit) might seem to be an ally of the Nazi movement. Certainly the proto-fascist thinkers, including Fichte, Carlyle, and Mazzini, had Calvinist or Lutheran leanings. But Protestantism shares many elements with Catholicism, and along these dimensions, Protestants cannot easily be reconciled to the Nazis. Perhaps organized Christianity can keep the Nazi menace at bay.
Christianity involves an ingrained respect for truth that is anathema to the Nazis. Galileo was persecuted on the grounds that his ideas were false; the Nazis reject relativity because its discoverer is Jewish, and truth is not even part of the argument. When objective truth leaves the field, the question of what to believe will be answered by might, not right.
Another force that promotes unreason is that many people of ability lack an alternative outlet for their love of power. Suburbs offer little in the way of public life. Suburb dwellers who commute to their white-collar work in a great metropolis have no role in governing, while at work, they take orders from their bosses. They would be prone towards socialist doctrines if snobbery did not keep them from associating with the working classes. An active spirit in these conditions would find fascism to offer a hopeful alternative.
Anti-reason, therefore, grows in politics on both the demand and the supply side. The demand comes from people whose current circumstances do not offer sufficient prospects, but they are unwilling to connect to a socialist movement that puts the working class in the vanguard. The supply comes from intelligent, wealthy men whose own interests are served by swelling certain types of hysteria. “Anti-Communism, fear of foreign armaments, and hatred of foreign competition, are the most important bogeys [p. 80].” These notions are not irrational per se, but they are used to hinder intelligent discussion of practical affairs.
Socialism and peace are what the world needs, but these do not conduce to the wellbeing of the powerful. Movements towards socialism and peace can be made to appear detrimental to large classes of society, and this appearance can be fostered by fomenting hysteria. Economic hardship eases the job of the merchants of unreason.
The rise of nationalism and class tension brings a plethora of “truths,” those of the English and those of the French, those of the wage earners and those of the capitalists. With the turn to unreason, these competing truths cannot encounter each other in rational discourse, leaving ongoing strife and war as the available fora. Reason appeals to universal standards, whereas unreason draws from private passions. Cooperative agreements are harder to come by when reason is swept away. Reason always is needed for human flourishing. The need is strongest when an impersonal rationality is “despised and rejected as the vain dream of men who lack the virility to kill where they cannot agree [p. 81].”
Thursday, September 4, 2014
In Praise of Idleness, Chapter Four
“The Modern Midas,” pages 49-62
[A footnote attached to the title of this chapter notes that the essay dates from 1932; In Praise of Idleness was published in 1935.]
Russell opens Chapter Four by recounting the King Midas tale, referencing (as he did in Education and the Good Life) Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Tanglewood Tales. The world is slow to digest (hard food for Midas!) the moral of the story. The Spanish hoarded Peruvian gold, raising prices but not increasing their consumption – though perhaps the increase in nominal incomes gave Spaniards a psychological boost through money illusion. The eastern seaboard of North America, left to the secondary powers of Holland and England, was less prized because of its lack of gold, but proved to be much more valuable.
Though we can see the folly of thinking of gold as real wealth when we examine historical examples, the deception continues to trip up governments: look at the indemnity imposed upon a defeated Germany in the wake of the Great War. The German reparations had to be paid in goods, but this implied that Germany was required to maintain what is considered to be a favorable balance of trade with the Allies; that is, the Allies were doing what their economic thinking took to be a favor for redeveloping Germany. Further, domestic producers in the Allied nations did not welcome competition from those German repayments-in-kind. The Allied view was that Germany had to pay, but any particular method of payment was unacceptable to the Allies. [Later, on pages 52-53, Russell presents a single-individual, Robinson Crusoe version of the Allies’ behavior, to sharpen its absurdity.]
“To this lunatic situation a lunatic solution was found [p. 51].” The Allies lent Germany the money to pay the reparations. No domestic industries were directly hurt, and the notion that Germany was being punished for its transgressions was maintained. The cycle was extended when Germany was loaned funds with which to make the interest payments on its earlier loans. When the limits to these sorts of machinations were reached, bankruptcies spread throughout the system, and the global depression, which had many other stimulants, ensued.
The Allies first took the viewpoint of consumers when they pressed for German reparations, but then they realized that Allied producers might not be so enthralled with the whole idea. Their shift in roles resulted in the crazy pay-only-in-a-useless-fashion compromise, one that would be seen as evidence of insanity in an individual, but is taken to be wisdom when pursued at the national level. Robinson Crusoe would welcome the option to specialize in the production of some goods and to trade for others – his living standards will be low if he must make himself everything that he consumes. But somehow nations feel they need to have domestic capacity in all industries. A rational plan for production, one that included retraining for workers departing from declining industries, would avoid this costly devotion to autarky – but such rationality is “contrary to business orthodoxy [p. 53].”
The mythologies connected to gold are surprisingly common. French enmity for Britain forced the British off of the gold standard, which was the proper economic policy, but one that was widely viewed as shameful in Britain. The whole “dig up gold in one place so it can be stored underground elsewhere” industry is quite absurd. [Russell reiterates this observation in Unpopular Essays.] “Nevertheless it is still supposed that, by some hocus-pocus, everybody’s financial stability depends upon a hoard of gold in the central bank of his country [p. 55].” Sometimes the gold can be in one country’s vault, but designated as being owned by another country. It would be simpler just to pretend that the gold had been mined without disturbing it from its original resting place. [Echoes here of "The Island of Stone Money."]
The notion that a gold standard commits governments to prudent monetary policy is misplaced; in a pinch, a government will adjust or suspend the standard, and override the commitment. All the warring parties in Europe depreciated their currencies post-conflict and hence diminished the real value of their debt, sometimes to the point of hyper-inflation making debt payments worthless. The Russians were forthright about debt repudiation, while the depreciating or inflating nations paid lip service to propriety. Countries, like people, repay debts when and only when it serves their interests. Domestic debt is particularly susceptible to strategic governmental behavior, as the nominal value of the domestic currency can be manipulated by the state. Repudiation of international debt is held in check, imperfectly, by the threat of hostile reactions from the debtor nations.
Ownership of property is generally due to military might. Look at how New York changed hands between Native Americans, the Dutch, the English, and the Americans. Natural resources discovered in poor countries have a tendency to fall under the control of powerful nations, with arms either directly or tacitly involved. Similarly, powerful nations, if they are debtors, can get away with not repaying. The only path to currency stability is not a tenuous gold standard, but a world government with military capabilities. Such a global state could provide stable money by guaranteeing the price of a standard commodity bundle, and would have a direct interest to do so. [I believe that Russell’s belief in the stability of such a currency is misplaced; see this paper by Paul Krugman -- RBR.] The fact that business people do not support a single central bank and a world currency is evidence that they are willing to trade their own prosperity in exchange for keeping foreigners poor.
Our psychological responses to buying and selling seem to ignore the fact that we cannot directly consume money, and that it is consumption, not production, that is the ultimate goal. “In almost every transaction, the seller is more pleased than the buyer [p. 58].” The psychic superiority of selling comes from our love of power, which for many, but by no means all people, exceeds our desire for pleasure. Those who do desire power more than pleasure, however, set the tone in our competitive times. Governments inherit these skewed ideas from the movers and shakers, with the nonsensical result that all countries desire to sell but not to buy.
Sellers care about consumers and competitors. But consumers are numerous, while competitors are few and known, so producers end up focused on their competitors, who, after all, are a source of harm. When those competitors are foreign, the focus is, if anything, more intense. Other countries are viewed more as economic foes than as potential customers, lending a stimulus to the imposition of tariffs. Countries are like a butcher in a small town, whose enmity for the other butchers in town is so outsized that he embarks on a successful mission to turn the entire town into vegetarians – and ruins himself along with the targets of his wrath. Hatred of foreigners similarly renders countries unable to see that those foreigners who sell to them also, directly or indirectly, are their customers.
In Britain, the longstanding conflict between the rich and the poor has shrouded the fact that rich bankers have interests that also are opposed to the interests of rich industrialists. The political success of the financial sector in the banks v. manufacturers rivalry almost ruined the country.
The divergence between the interest of the finance sector with that of society is a more general phenomenon. [Russell noted this disconnect in 1919 in Proposed Roads to Freedom.] Running a country to promote the interests of financiers is like running a museum to benefit the curator, who might profit most by selling off the holdings. The profit motive, in many instances, serves society’s interests, but the profit motive within the financial sector now does not do so, even if it has done so in the past. Regulation is needed to ensure that finance serves the interest of industry – which generally is more closely aligned with the public interest – instead of serving its own, parochial desires.
Superstitions are used by the powerful few to control the subordinate many. In the past, superstitions have been promulgated to aid the power of priests and kings. Now, the superstitions surrounding gold protect the rule of the financiers. Ordinary people are dazzled by the jargon, and associate larger gold reserves with more security. The subservience to financiers is protected by more than just the gold standard, however. They are wealthy, and wealthy people are in a position to influence academic and public opinion, and serve as natural leaders for those who fear communism. The superstitions concerning gold might be crucial to the insulation of the financial sector from normal democratic scrutiny.
Economics is of fundamental importance, but schoolchildren are not taught economics, and even most college students do not study it. Those who do usually receive the finance-biased, fanciful version which leads to support for the status quo: “superstition and mystery are useful to the holders of financial power [p. 62].”
Proficiency in finance is unfortunately akin to proficiency in arms, in that those who possess such expertise tend to have views that are not consonant with the public interest. They are obstacles to progress, not consciously, but because their profession biases their judgment. Broader and improved economics and social science education can help to counter the influence of these biases. Presumably such an educational reform would be welcomed by any friend of democracy, though such friends now appear to be rather scarce.
[A footnote attached to the title of this chapter notes that the essay dates from 1932; In Praise of Idleness was published in 1935.]
Russell opens Chapter Four by recounting the King Midas tale, referencing (as he did in Education and the Good Life) Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Tanglewood Tales. The world is slow to digest (hard food for Midas!) the moral of the story. The Spanish hoarded Peruvian gold, raising prices but not increasing their consumption – though perhaps the increase in nominal incomes gave Spaniards a psychological boost through money illusion. The eastern seaboard of North America, left to the secondary powers of Holland and England, was less prized because of its lack of gold, but proved to be much more valuable.
Though we can see the folly of thinking of gold as real wealth when we examine historical examples, the deception continues to trip up governments: look at the indemnity imposed upon a defeated Germany in the wake of the Great War. The German reparations had to be paid in goods, but this implied that Germany was required to maintain what is considered to be a favorable balance of trade with the Allies; that is, the Allies were doing what their economic thinking took to be a favor for redeveloping Germany. Further, domestic producers in the Allied nations did not welcome competition from those German repayments-in-kind. The Allied view was that Germany had to pay, but any particular method of payment was unacceptable to the Allies. [Later, on pages 52-53, Russell presents a single-individual, Robinson Crusoe version of the Allies’ behavior, to sharpen its absurdity.]
“To this lunatic situation a lunatic solution was found [p. 51].” The Allies lent Germany the money to pay the reparations. No domestic industries were directly hurt, and the notion that Germany was being punished for its transgressions was maintained. The cycle was extended when Germany was loaned funds with which to make the interest payments on its earlier loans. When the limits to these sorts of machinations were reached, bankruptcies spread throughout the system, and the global depression, which had many other stimulants, ensued.
The Allies first took the viewpoint of consumers when they pressed for German reparations, but then they realized that Allied producers might not be so enthralled with the whole idea. Their shift in roles resulted in the crazy pay-only-in-a-useless-fashion compromise, one that would be seen as evidence of insanity in an individual, but is taken to be wisdom when pursued at the national level. Robinson Crusoe would welcome the option to specialize in the production of some goods and to trade for others – his living standards will be low if he must make himself everything that he consumes. But somehow nations feel they need to have domestic capacity in all industries. A rational plan for production, one that included retraining for workers departing from declining industries, would avoid this costly devotion to autarky – but such rationality is “contrary to business orthodoxy [p. 53].”
The mythologies connected to gold are surprisingly common. French enmity for Britain forced the British off of the gold standard, which was the proper economic policy, but one that was widely viewed as shameful in Britain. The whole “dig up gold in one place so it can be stored underground elsewhere” industry is quite absurd. [Russell reiterates this observation in Unpopular Essays.] “Nevertheless it is still supposed that, by some hocus-pocus, everybody’s financial stability depends upon a hoard of gold in the central bank of his country [p. 55].” Sometimes the gold can be in one country’s vault, but designated as being owned by another country. It would be simpler just to pretend that the gold had been mined without disturbing it from its original resting place. [Echoes here of "The Island of Stone Money."]
The notion that a gold standard commits governments to prudent monetary policy is misplaced; in a pinch, a government will adjust or suspend the standard, and override the commitment. All the warring parties in Europe depreciated their currencies post-conflict and hence diminished the real value of their debt, sometimes to the point of hyper-inflation making debt payments worthless. The Russians were forthright about debt repudiation, while the depreciating or inflating nations paid lip service to propriety. Countries, like people, repay debts when and only when it serves their interests. Domestic debt is particularly susceptible to strategic governmental behavior, as the nominal value of the domestic currency can be manipulated by the state. Repudiation of international debt is held in check, imperfectly, by the threat of hostile reactions from the debtor nations.
Ownership of property is generally due to military might. Look at how New York changed hands between Native Americans, the Dutch, the English, and the Americans. Natural resources discovered in poor countries have a tendency to fall under the control of powerful nations, with arms either directly or tacitly involved. Similarly, powerful nations, if they are debtors, can get away with not repaying. The only path to currency stability is not a tenuous gold standard, but a world government with military capabilities. Such a global state could provide stable money by guaranteeing the price of a standard commodity bundle, and would have a direct interest to do so. [I believe that Russell’s belief in the stability of such a currency is misplaced; see this paper by Paul Krugman -- RBR.] The fact that business people do not support a single central bank and a world currency is evidence that they are willing to trade their own prosperity in exchange for keeping foreigners poor.
Our psychological responses to buying and selling seem to ignore the fact that we cannot directly consume money, and that it is consumption, not production, that is the ultimate goal. “In almost every transaction, the seller is more pleased than the buyer [p. 58].” The psychic superiority of selling comes from our love of power, which for many, but by no means all people, exceeds our desire for pleasure. Those who do desire power more than pleasure, however, set the tone in our competitive times. Governments inherit these skewed ideas from the movers and shakers, with the nonsensical result that all countries desire to sell but not to buy.
Sellers care about consumers and competitors. But consumers are numerous, while competitors are few and known, so producers end up focused on their competitors, who, after all, are a source of harm. When those competitors are foreign, the focus is, if anything, more intense. Other countries are viewed more as economic foes than as potential customers, lending a stimulus to the imposition of tariffs. Countries are like a butcher in a small town, whose enmity for the other butchers in town is so outsized that he embarks on a successful mission to turn the entire town into vegetarians – and ruins himself along with the targets of his wrath. Hatred of foreigners similarly renders countries unable to see that those foreigners who sell to them also, directly or indirectly, are their customers.
In Britain, the longstanding conflict between the rich and the poor has shrouded the fact that rich bankers have interests that also are opposed to the interests of rich industrialists. The political success of the financial sector in the banks v. manufacturers rivalry almost ruined the country.
The divergence between the interest of the finance sector with that of society is a more general phenomenon. [Russell noted this disconnect in 1919 in Proposed Roads to Freedom.] Running a country to promote the interests of financiers is like running a museum to benefit the curator, who might profit most by selling off the holdings. The profit motive, in many instances, serves society’s interests, but the profit motive within the financial sector now does not do so, even if it has done so in the past. Regulation is needed to ensure that finance serves the interest of industry – which generally is more closely aligned with the public interest – instead of serving its own, parochial desires.
Superstitions are used by the powerful few to control the subordinate many. In the past, superstitions have been promulgated to aid the power of priests and kings. Now, the superstitions surrounding gold protect the rule of the financiers. Ordinary people are dazzled by the jargon, and associate larger gold reserves with more security. The subservience to financiers is protected by more than just the gold standard, however. They are wealthy, and wealthy people are in a position to influence academic and public opinion, and serve as natural leaders for those who fear communism. The superstitions concerning gold might be crucial to the insulation of the financial sector from normal democratic scrutiny.
Economics is of fundamental importance, but schoolchildren are not taught economics, and even most college students do not study it. Those who do usually receive the finance-biased, fanciful version which leads to support for the status quo: “superstition and mystery are useful to the holders of financial power [p. 62].”
Proficiency in finance is unfortunately akin to proficiency in arms, in that those who possess such expertise tend to have views that are not consonant with the public interest. They are obstacles to progress, not consciously, but because their profession biases their judgment. Broader and improved economics and social science education can help to counter the influence of these biases. Presumably such an educational reform would be welcomed by any friend of democracy, though such friends now appear to be rather scarce.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
In Praise of Idleness, Chapter Three
“Architecture and Social Questions,” pages 38-48
Buildings possess practical utility, but also can be used to impress upon the world the grandeur of a religion, or a king, or a city. The dwellings of the poor tend to ignore aesthetic or political messages in favor of serving their utilitarian purposes. Commercial buildings took on an aesthetic edge in the Middle Ages, with Venice the exemplar of beautiful public buildings and exquisite dwellings for the merchant titans, while the poor carefully were hidden from view.
The religious monasteries and abbeys of the Middle Ages combined elaborate and beautiful communal areas with Spartan individual accommodations – and their wonders still can be glimpsed at Oxford and Cambridge. The French and English aristocracy aped the Italian fashions, and could build country houses once domestic security did not require fortifications. The credibility of this security was undermined by the French Revolution, “and since that time the traditional styles of architecture have lost their vitality [p. 40].”
Nineteenth century architecture is marked by large factories and small homes arranged in rows for workers. Large buildings make commercial sense for offices or apartments in crowded cities, but their inhabitants tend not to form a medieval-type commune; rather, they prefer to be as separate as possible, despite the close quarters. Buildings for work or business serve as the sole non-domestic centers of social life. “If the social ideals of an age are to be judged by the aesthetic quality of its architecture, the last hundred years represent the lowest point yet reached by humanity [pages 40-41].”
Economic production now is conducted among large groups of people, but we have become more individualized, more isolated, in the rest of our lives. Housework and child care take place by wives on a house-by-house basis, which renders the work dull and makes women captives within their homes. But women seem to prefer the individual home to anything more communal. It might reflect their lack of opportunities in the broader economy: as they are forced to be housewives, they need an individual house to oversee. The system also plays to the interest of husbands in seeming to be important, and a decrepit social life keeps spouses out of harm’s way from potentially dangerous liaisons.
The availability of more work outside the home for women would stoke the demand for outsourced or communal cooking and childcare. It is too difficult to work normally outside the home while maintaining the standard household duties that fall to wives. (Men who take on the household duties would soon understand this.) Architecture could shift in ways to ease the socialization of much of the housework burden; indeed, the architectural shift might have to precede the rationalization of housework.
That each working family dwells in a single family home or tenement has far-reaching effects. The children do not get enough outside exercise, and poorly educated, overworked moms are unable to provide nutritious meals. [Russell is quite the proponent of youthful exposure to the great outdoors.] The children, condemned to the indoors and thus lacking an appropriate environment for their natural vivacity, harry and exasperate their mom. The mom has no leisure, and performs rather poorly those myriad chores for which she is untrained. Mothers are tired, and can take little pleasure in their children’s company. The result of this common arrangement is that children end up “rickety, neurotic, and subdued,” while the moms become “irritable, narrow-minded, and full of envy [p. 43].” The dad then reacts badly to the whole situation, blaming his family instead of the fundamental factor, the architecture.
The fact that through extraordinary self-control and wisdom some families can avoid acting out this depressing vignette is not evidence that the tendency is any less real or malevolent.
[Russell goes on to describe his vision for an architecturally sound communal life, a’ la Fourier’s Phalanstère or, given the shared high-rise construction, the Unité d'Habitation of Le Corbusier. Architecture is almost a panacea for domestic woes and childhood unhappiness, a jaded reading might suggest – RBR.]
Clear out the old tenements and small single-family dwellings, and replace them with high rises. The buildings would form a block, with a courtyard quadrangle in the middle. The southern-facing building would not be so high, to allow in more sunlight. The children’s area should be free of things that could harm children or objects that they could harm, to minimize the use of “don’t!” The children would mainly play outdoors, and even their standard indoor area would be open to the elements on one side. Children would take all their meals in the nursery, which could ensure the nutritional value of the food. From a young age, children would spend all day at the nursery school, with minimal supervision. These arrangements would conduce to the children’s better health and character. They would be nearly free-range children, and develop muscularity naturally, like animals do, given their liberation from the ban on motion that is requisite in standard adult settings.
Mothers would benefit, too, by being able to outsource childcare to specialists following weaning. Their days would be like their husbands', with work and with leisure, not just one long slog through cooking, cleaning, and babysitting. Their morning and evening times with their children would be joyous, not trying; mothers would have the energy to play with their children, and the children would appreciate more fully their parents’ affections.
“What is good in family life would survive, without what is worrying and destructive of affection [p. 45].” Though Robert Owen was ridiculed for his parallelograms, his ideas for nursery schools were a success in both theory and, at New Lanark, in practice. Owen was mistaken, however, in attempting to make New Lanark both a residential and an industrial community. The overemphasis on production (as opposed to consumption and quality of life) that has accompanied the Industrial Revolution results in an extensive division of labor in factories, but almost no specialization within households, where mothers do everything. The lack of a profit motive in home life leads to irrational household arrangements.
Workers, currently devoted to their private dwellings, might find my [Russell’s] architectural reforms to be a hard sell. But there will still be a good deal of privacy, even if cooking becomes communal. As women increasingly enter the world of work, current feminist views on the desirability of private cooking and in-home child care may change. Men are less likely to recognize the need for any change in the life circumstances of their wives.
Socialism might be necessary to reduce unemployment, which itself might be necessary to allow women to enter the paid labor force in large numbers. Socialism will also be necessary for my architectural reforms, because they are not driven by the profit motive. The chase for profits produces many wonderful things, but it is not conducive to soothing the nerves of wives, promoting the health and character of children, or beautifying suburbs. The unaesthetic nature of the suburbs is not foreordained, however, any more than poverty is: they both result from our excessive devotion to the idol of profit.
Buildings possess practical utility, but also can be used to impress upon the world the grandeur of a religion, or a king, or a city. The dwellings of the poor tend to ignore aesthetic or political messages in favor of serving their utilitarian purposes. Commercial buildings took on an aesthetic edge in the Middle Ages, with Venice the exemplar of beautiful public buildings and exquisite dwellings for the merchant titans, while the poor carefully were hidden from view.
The religious monasteries and abbeys of the Middle Ages combined elaborate and beautiful communal areas with Spartan individual accommodations – and their wonders still can be glimpsed at Oxford and Cambridge. The French and English aristocracy aped the Italian fashions, and could build country houses once domestic security did not require fortifications. The credibility of this security was undermined by the French Revolution, “and since that time the traditional styles of architecture have lost their vitality [p. 40].”
Nineteenth century architecture is marked by large factories and small homes arranged in rows for workers. Large buildings make commercial sense for offices or apartments in crowded cities, but their inhabitants tend not to form a medieval-type commune; rather, they prefer to be as separate as possible, despite the close quarters. Buildings for work or business serve as the sole non-domestic centers of social life. “If the social ideals of an age are to be judged by the aesthetic quality of its architecture, the last hundred years represent the lowest point yet reached by humanity [pages 40-41].”
Economic production now is conducted among large groups of people, but we have become more individualized, more isolated, in the rest of our lives. Housework and child care take place by wives on a house-by-house basis, which renders the work dull and makes women captives within their homes. But women seem to prefer the individual home to anything more communal. It might reflect their lack of opportunities in the broader economy: as they are forced to be housewives, they need an individual house to oversee. The system also plays to the interest of husbands in seeming to be important, and a decrepit social life keeps spouses out of harm’s way from potentially dangerous liaisons.
The availability of more work outside the home for women would stoke the demand for outsourced or communal cooking and childcare. It is too difficult to work normally outside the home while maintaining the standard household duties that fall to wives. (Men who take on the household duties would soon understand this.) Architecture could shift in ways to ease the socialization of much of the housework burden; indeed, the architectural shift might have to precede the rationalization of housework.
That each working family dwells in a single family home or tenement has far-reaching effects. The children do not get enough outside exercise, and poorly educated, overworked moms are unable to provide nutritious meals. [Russell is quite the proponent of youthful exposure to the great outdoors.] The children, condemned to the indoors and thus lacking an appropriate environment for their natural vivacity, harry and exasperate their mom. The mom has no leisure, and performs rather poorly those myriad chores for which she is untrained. Mothers are tired, and can take little pleasure in their children’s company. The result of this common arrangement is that children end up “rickety, neurotic, and subdued,” while the moms become “irritable, narrow-minded, and full of envy [p. 43].” The dad then reacts badly to the whole situation, blaming his family instead of the fundamental factor, the architecture.
The fact that through extraordinary self-control and wisdom some families can avoid acting out this depressing vignette is not evidence that the tendency is any less real or malevolent.
[Russell goes on to describe his vision for an architecturally sound communal life, a’ la Fourier’s Phalanstère or, given the shared high-rise construction, the Unité d'Habitation of Le Corbusier. Architecture is almost a panacea for domestic woes and childhood unhappiness, a jaded reading might suggest – RBR.]
Clear out the old tenements and small single-family dwellings, and replace them with high rises. The buildings would form a block, with a courtyard quadrangle in the middle. The southern-facing building would not be so high, to allow in more sunlight. The children’s area should be free of things that could harm children or objects that they could harm, to minimize the use of “don’t!” The children would mainly play outdoors, and even their standard indoor area would be open to the elements on one side. Children would take all their meals in the nursery, which could ensure the nutritional value of the food. From a young age, children would spend all day at the nursery school, with minimal supervision. These arrangements would conduce to the children’s better health and character. They would be nearly free-range children, and develop muscularity naturally, like animals do, given their liberation from the ban on motion that is requisite in standard adult settings.
Mothers would benefit, too, by being able to outsource childcare to specialists following weaning. Their days would be like their husbands', with work and with leisure, not just one long slog through cooking, cleaning, and babysitting. Their morning and evening times with their children would be joyous, not trying; mothers would have the energy to play with their children, and the children would appreciate more fully their parents’ affections.
“What is good in family life would survive, without what is worrying and destructive of affection [p. 45].” Though Robert Owen was ridiculed for his parallelograms, his ideas for nursery schools were a success in both theory and, at New Lanark, in practice. Owen was mistaken, however, in attempting to make New Lanark both a residential and an industrial community. The overemphasis on production (as opposed to consumption and quality of life) that has accompanied the Industrial Revolution results in an extensive division of labor in factories, but almost no specialization within households, where mothers do everything. The lack of a profit motive in home life leads to irrational household arrangements.
Workers, currently devoted to their private dwellings, might find my [Russell’s] architectural reforms to be a hard sell. But there will still be a good deal of privacy, even if cooking becomes communal. As women increasingly enter the world of work, current feminist views on the desirability of private cooking and in-home child care may change. Men are less likely to recognize the need for any change in the life circumstances of their wives.
Socialism might be necessary to reduce unemployment, which itself might be necessary to allow women to enter the paid labor force in large numbers. Socialism will also be necessary for my architectural reforms, because they are not driven by the profit motive. The chase for profits produces many wonderful things, but it is not conducive to soothing the nerves of wives, promoting the health and character of children, or beautifying suburbs. The unaesthetic nature of the suburbs is not foreordained, however, any more than poverty is: they both result from our excessive devotion to the idol of profit.
Friday, March 28, 2014
In Praise of Idleness, Chapter Two
“'Useless' Knowledge,” pages 26-37
Knowledge has long been thought to be a source of power, and typically yields that power as in the case of Prospero, where knowledge brings control over magical forces. Francis Bacon understood, as we do now, that science could become more powerful than Prospero’s staff.
In the Renaissance, learning became something to be enjoyed for its own sake, frequently unmoored from practical concerns. People learned ancient Greek to appreciate Homer – though knowledge of ancient Greek and other languages helped to resolve theological puzzles and forgeries, and classical history provided guides and precedents for current, controversial political actions. Nonetheless, the primary motive for learning was pleasure, some of which emanated from broadened vistas for art and philosophy.
The allure of the ancient languages carried over into improved reputations for those sciences to which classical sources were devoted, such as geometry and astronomy, at least if seemingly disreputable post-classical scholars hadn’t fouled the disciplinary pool.
The sort of impractical approach to knowledge that characterized much of the Renaissance began to give way during the Enlightenment, and the decline accelerated with the French Revolution’s attack on upper-class habits and the proliferation of machines. The value of knowledge has come to be associated with the economic value of its practical applications – an association which exists in England and France, but is carried much further in the USA and the Soviet Union. Practicality has even become an excuse for pruning the acquisition of language to the minimum number of words requisite for business, as if economic expediency were the only purpose for speech. The Russian interest in education serving state aims takes the criterion of practicality still further – though a handful of the elect must learn philosophy to defend the state’s version of dialectical materialism, and a few Soviet scholars acquire a foreign language because “the sacred scriptures must be studied by some in the original German…[p. 29]”.
The interdependence among people, both political and economic, is greater in the modern world than it was previously, and hence the desire to force others to act in ways that we approve also has increased. Educational institutions, for the most part, are charged with producing loyal and productive citizens. [The sacrifice of education to propaganda is a Russellian concern that resurfaced in Unpopular Essays.] Hence we see a premium placed on what is considered to be practical knowledge, as part of a more general phenomenon that also underlies universal military conscription and the boy scouts. We do not have the free time and mental resources to acquire what is deemed to be impractical knowledge.
Of course, practical knowledge really is quite useful. “Without it, we should not have machines or motor-cars or railways or aeroplanes; it should be added that we should not have modern advertising or modern propaganda [p. 30].” We get innovations to improve health and innovations in the means of mass murder, but at any rate, there is still a need for more useful knowledge.
Much of a traditional ornamental education was wasted of course, including the small Latine, and lesse Greeke. Better to teach culture in modern languages than in dead ones – the claim that there should be room in education for useless knowledge is not a defense of traditional education. [Russell also made this point in Education and the Good Life.]
A focus on knowledge that promotes technical efficiency crowds out other types of knowledge that are not as directly practical, but that nonetheless carry large rewards. “When conscious activity is wholly concentrated on some one definite purpose, the ultimate result, for most people, is lack of balance accompanied by some form of nervous disorder [p. 32].” [Compare Russell in The Conquest of Happiness: “One of the symptoms of approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one’s work is terribly important and that to take a holiday would bring all kinds of disaster [p. 61].”] Overworked military strategists and political fanatics of many stripes are cases in point. Adults, like children, need play, and for play to have its salutary effect, it must be based on strong interests that are independent of one’s main work.
The leisure pursuits of the masses in developed countries tend now to involve mere spectatorship – better than no leisure at all, but not as beneficial as active interests. [And Russell was writing before the ultimate form of passive entertainment, television, was available.] Education must be supplemented to ensure that the population has access to intellectual interests, which are necessary to render significant amounts of leisure time enjoyable. [Russell devoted a chapter of The Conquest of Happiness to impersonal interests.]
Cultural education is necessary to ensure that improved techniques serve socially desirable ends. There is a significant streak of cruelty in humanity, and while education cannot eliminate the tendency towards cruel behavior, it does seem to lessen that tendency. School bullies and the ringleaders directing lynchings are not generally the more intelligent people in their communities. Education doesn’t necessarily make one more of a humanitarian, but it will engender interests in pursuits that are more edifying than being cruel towards others. People like power and to be admired, and the uneducated can only achieve these through brutality. Galileo could make the world better without the need to persecute.
“Perhaps the most important advantage of ‘useless’ knowledge is that it promotes a contemplative habit of mind [p. 34].” People feel compelled to take action, not only unthinkingly, but when doing nothing would be the preferred choice. The charge against Hamlet is too much thought, too little action [though of course, it is Hamlet’s rash killing of an unknown person behind an arras that ignites the wholesale slaughter – RBR], but Othello should be just as compelling a warning of too much action, too little thought. Contemplation helps ward off the compulsion to power and stimulates grace under pressure; it provides the wide vistas which alone can protect against the pain of life’s tragedies.
The quotidian troubles of the missing-the-train ilk are quite minor, but nevertheless can destroy wellbeing; some interest in a slightly relevant intellectual detail or historical parallel can serve as an antidote, removing us from our present travails. A browse through Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy can itself relieve melancholy. This same broader perspective enlivens our pleasures, too. I [Russell] enjoy apricots more from knowing their provenance and etymology.
The largest payoff to contemplation draws from its ability to shield people from adopting anger and cruelty, which are fostered by the intolerance of narrow minds. Broad knowledge provides perspective, both of human limitations and of human potential.
People often invent myths to help them relieve the pain of life – but this short-term palliative stokes pain over the longer term. Russell concludes the chapter with a sort of secular version of the Serenity Prayer. In Russell’s version, useless knowledge helps build the intelligence that allows people to know the difference between what can and what cannot be changed. Further, useless knowledge promotes the broad perspective that renders it easier to accept with fortitude those conditions that are not amenable to reform.
Knowledge has long been thought to be a source of power, and typically yields that power as in the case of Prospero, where knowledge brings control over magical forces. Francis Bacon understood, as we do now, that science could become more powerful than Prospero’s staff.
In the Renaissance, learning became something to be enjoyed for its own sake, frequently unmoored from practical concerns. People learned ancient Greek to appreciate Homer – though knowledge of ancient Greek and other languages helped to resolve theological puzzles and forgeries, and classical history provided guides and precedents for current, controversial political actions. Nonetheless, the primary motive for learning was pleasure, some of which emanated from broadened vistas for art and philosophy.
The allure of the ancient languages carried over into improved reputations for those sciences to which classical sources were devoted, such as geometry and astronomy, at least if seemingly disreputable post-classical scholars hadn’t fouled the disciplinary pool.
The sort of impractical approach to knowledge that characterized much of the Renaissance began to give way during the Enlightenment, and the decline accelerated with the French Revolution’s attack on upper-class habits and the proliferation of machines. The value of knowledge has come to be associated with the economic value of its practical applications – an association which exists in England and France, but is carried much further in the USA and the Soviet Union. Practicality has even become an excuse for pruning the acquisition of language to the minimum number of words requisite for business, as if economic expediency were the only purpose for speech. The Russian interest in education serving state aims takes the criterion of practicality still further – though a handful of the elect must learn philosophy to defend the state’s version of dialectical materialism, and a few Soviet scholars acquire a foreign language because “the sacred scriptures must be studied by some in the original German…[p. 29]”.
The interdependence among people, both political and economic, is greater in the modern world than it was previously, and hence the desire to force others to act in ways that we approve also has increased. Educational institutions, for the most part, are charged with producing loyal and productive citizens. [The sacrifice of education to propaganda is a Russellian concern that resurfaced in Unpopular Essays.] Hence we see a premium placed on what is considered to be practical knowledge, as part of a more general phenomenon that also underlies universal military conscription and the boy scouts. We do not have the free time and mental resources to acquire what is deemed to be impractical knowledge.
Of course, practical knowledge really is quite useful. “Without it, we should not have machines or motor-cars or railways or aeroplanes; it should be added that we should not have modern advertising or modern propaganda [p. 30].” We get innovations to improve health and innovations in the means of mass murder, but at any rate, there is still a need for more useful knowledge.
Much of a traditional ornamental education was wasted of course, including the small Latine, and lesse Greeke. Better to teach culture in modern languages than in dead ones – the claim that there should be room in education for useless knowledge is not a defense of traditional education. [Russell also made this point in Education and the Good Life.]
A focus on knowledge that promotes technical efficiency crowds out other types of knowledge that are not as directly practical, but that nonetheless carry large rewards. “When conscious activity is wholly concentrated on some one definite purpose, the ultimate result, for most people, is lack of balance accompanied by some form of nervous disorder [p. 32].” [Compare Russell in The Conquest of Happiness: “One of the symptoms of approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one’s work is terribly important and that to take a holiday would bring all kinds of disaster [p. 61].”] Overworked military strategists and political fanatics of many stripes are cases in point. Adults, like children, need play, and for play to have its salutary effect, it must be based on strong interests that are independent of one’s main work.
The leisure pursuits of the masses in developed countries tend now to involve mere spectatorship – better than no leisure at all, but not as beneficial as active interests. [And Russell was writing before the ultimate form of passive entertainment, television, was available.] Education must be supplemented to ensure that the population has access to intellectual interests, which are necessary to render significant amounts of leisure time enjoyable. [Russell devoted a chapter of The Conquest of Happiness to impersonal interests.]
Cultural education is necessary to ensure that improved techniques serve socially desirable ends. There is a significant streak of cruelty in humanity, and while education cannot eliminate the tendency towards cruel behavior, it does seem to lessen that tendency. School bullies and the ringleaders directing lynchings are not generally the more intelligent people in their communities. Education doesn’t necessarily make one more of a humanitarian, but it will engender interests in pursuits that are more edifying than being cruel towards others. People like power and to be admired, and the uneducated can only achieve these through brutality. Galileo could make the world better without the need to persecute.
“Perhaps the most important advantage of ‘useless’ knowledge is that it promotes a contemplative habit of mind [p. 34].” People feel compelled to take action, not only unthinkingly, but when doing nothing would be the preferred choice. The charge against Hamlet is too much thought, too little action [though of course, it is Hamlet’s rash killing of an unknown person behind an arras that ignites the wholesale slaughter – RBR], but Othello should be just as compelling a warning of too much action, too little thought. Contemplation helps ward off the compulsion to power and stimulates grace under pressure; it provides the wide vistas which alone can protect against the pain of life’s tragedies.
The quotidian troubles of the missing-the-train ilk are quite minor, but nevertheless can destroy wellbeing; some interest in a slightly relevant intellectual detail or historical parallel can serve as an antidote, removing us from our present travails. A browse through Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy can itself relieve melancholy. This same broader perspective enlivens our pleasures, too. I [Russell] enjoy apricots more from knowing their provenance and etymology.
The largest payoff to contemplation draws from its ability to shield people from adopting anger and cruelty, which are fostered by the intolerance of narrow minds. Broad knowledge provides perspective, both of human limitations and of human potential.
People often invent myths to help them relieve the pain of life – but this short-term palliative stokes pain over the longer term. Russell concludes the chapter with a sort of secular version of the Serenity Prayer. In Russell’s version, useless knowledge helps build the intelligence that allows people to know the difference between what can and what cannot be changed. Further, useless knowledge promotes the broad perspective that renders it easier to accept with fortitude those conditions that are not amenable to reform.
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