Back in 2014, I wrote and self-published a short book
called “Honest Common Sense.” In it, I sought to explicate “a brief, radical
Philosophy, starting from first principles and aimed at non-academic people.” I
diagnosed what I saw as the root of the problems we good people face today:
“that we are in a war of the political means versus the economic, the dishonest
versus the honest, the state versus Civilization.” And I made some suggestions as
to how we might set ourselves to win that war.
But as a friendly thinker, who calls himself Jason
Alexander, has told us: “Ideas that are alive, grow and change.” And my ideas
are certainly no exception to that rule. Ten months ago, I determined to re-visit
my philosophical thinking, and to put it in context with the ideas of others
from whom I have drawn material; including Jason Alexander himself. The task
has been long and hard. So much so, that this essay introduces a set of no less
than six. And all six are long; representing, as they do, the product of ten
whole months of hard mental labour.
But I have found the work worthwhile; for in the process,
I have found several new insights. New to me, at least. And I’ve gained a
clearer grasp of some areas I had thought I already understood. The major new
and clarified ideas are all in the areas of ethics and politics; and
particularly around the dividing line between them. Happily, these are good areas
for thinking people to be looking into in the current, parlous state of human
civilization. I hope that these ideas may, perhaps, help to suggest some fresh
possibilities for how we humans might go about re-claiming our rights and freedoms,
and bringing to the enemies of humanity the justice they deserve.
One observation before I begin. We are living in a strange
time, in which virtually the entire intellectual class in Western countries has
become corrupted. The reason is not far to seek. Academics and other
intellectuals are, with only a few exceptions (and most of those are in their
70s or older), all bought and paid for by the state. So, we cannot expect
today’s professional thinkers to do anything to help human civilization or
human freedom; for they cannot, or will not, go against their paymasters. That
means that amateurs like me have to step up to the plate.
Six parts
In this, the first essay of the set, I’ll review some of
the ideas of six thinkers who have influenced me. In chronological order of
their births: Aristotle, John Locke, Franz Oppenheimer, Ayn Rand, Jason
Alexander and Frank van Dun. In the second part, I’ll seek to put our situation
today into historical context, and to draw out some rhythms of human history. I
shall be making particular use of the ideas of Jason Alexander in that
exercise.
In the third part, I’ll give a broad outline of my updated
philosophical framework, which I’m provisionally labelling “Honest Common Sense
2.0.” I’ll also compare and contrast my approach with the philosophy of our
enemies; the political classes and their hangers-on, that collectively I label
the “Downers.”
In the fourth and fifth parts, I’ll describe my system in
more detail. And I’ll sketch out a possible future system of minimal
government. I call it “just governance,” and I describe its remit as: “to
enable people to live together in an environment of peace and tranquillity,
common-sense justice, and maximum rights and freedom for every individual.”
Finally, in the sixth part, I’ll offer some thoughts on how we might seek to
move from where we are today towards a better world.
So, to the ideas of my six thinkers.
Aristotle’s contribution
It’s hard to write much about philosophy without mentioning
Aristotle. Though I almost achieved that with “Honest Common Sense,” citing
only his description of Man as “a political animal.” Today, I’ll repair my oversight.
Aristotle lived in the 4th century BC, the high tide
of classical Athens. He was born in 384 BC, and he died in the year, 322 BC,
that Athenian democracy was suppressed by the Macedonians. He wrote on many
subjects; and a considerable body of his work survived, even though much more
did not. As well as works on nature, including tracts presaging physics and
biology, he wrote substantial works on philosophical topics: metaphysics,
logic, ethics and politics. He also wrote on drama and rhetoric. And he, or one
of his school, wrote a treatise on economics.
His Metaphysics is regarded as difficult. Though it did, in
time, influence many thinkers; not only other Greeks, but the Muslim
philosophers of the 10th to 12th centuries, and the later
Scholastics too. His works on logic are still studied today; and it’s said that
the treatments of logic by mathematicians like George Boole and Gottlob Frege
are in harmony with the Aristotelian tradition.
Now, I’m the kind of person who doesn’t like to read too
deeply into what other people think about a topic. I prefer, like Richard
Feynman, to read just enough to understand the basics, then to try to
re-develop the subject in my own way. So, I approached Aristotle’s Ethics
(in the excellent translation by W. D. Ross) in the spirit of “are we thinking
along much the same lines?” To which, my answer was Yes.
Ethics is about how individuals ought best to live. And
Aristotle was perhaps the first to tackle the subject from a practical point of
view. I like his approach of starting from what would be roughly agreed on by
ordinary people of good up-bringing and with extensive life experience. It
mirrors my own attraction to the idea of honest common sense.
For Aristotle, the highest good is what he called eudaimonia;
often translated as well-being, happiness or flourishing. I’d use “fulfilment”
myself, but we’re on the same path. I can also agree with his advocacy of
self-sufficiency. Not of the hermit’s kind, but as someone who fully contributes
to his friends and associates; who, in my terms, gives as good as he gets.
I liked his respect for reasoning things through, for
articulate speech, and for being open to persuasion through reason. I agreed
with him that humans naturally have the potential to be good. Though I would go
further, and say that humans are naturally good; even though, obviously,
some among us fail to achieve that natural goodness. I agreed, too, that “virtue
also is in our own power, and so too vice.” And that everyone ought to have an innate
vision of what is good. “One must be born with an eye, as it were, by which to
judge rightly and choose what is truly good, and he is well endowed by nature
who is well endowed with this.” Today, we might use the word conscience
to describe this eye.
Further, in his Rhetoric he talks of a universal law.
He says: “Universal law is the law of Nature. For there really is, as every one
to some extent divines, a natural justice and injustice that is binding on all
men, even on those who have no association or covenant with each other.” And,
quoting Sophocles: “Not of to-day or yesterday it is, but lives eternal: none
can date its birth.”
I didn’t, however, find Aristotle’s discussion of justice in
the Ethics so enlightening. The distinction between lawful/unlawful on
one hand, and fair/unfair (or just/unjust, or equal/unequal) on the other, is
good. But trying to follow it through is a mind-bending exercise. Even today,
it would be hard to find two people who agree on the precise meanings of the
words equality, fairness and justice.
Much as I liked many of Aristotle’s ethical ideas, I tended
to dislike his political ideas. Right at the start of the Politics (in Benjamin
Jowett’s translation), he says: “If all communities aim at some good, the state
or political community, which is the highest of all, and which embraces all the
rest, aims at good in a greater degree than any other, and at the highest good.”
Aristotle, like his teacher Plato, considered the city-state to be more
important than the individuals and families who comprised it.
As to the (in-)famous “political animal,” here’s the quote: “Hence
it is evident that the state is a creation of nature, and that man is by nature
a political animal.” I can’t agree; though I won’t criticize Aristotle for
using the top-down word political. For in his time there would not yet
have been a word like “civilized” – or the one I prefer, “convivial” – to
convey the meaning of good people simply living together for mutual benefit.
A little later, he says: “A social instinct is implanted in all
men by nature.” Correct. And: “Man, when perfected, is the best of animals.”
Double plus good! But then: “If he has not virtue, he is the most unholy and
the most savage of animals, and the most full of lust and gluttony.” Maybe he dimly
anticipated what would happen when the most unholy, savage, inhuman animals –
like Hitler, Stalin or Pol Pot – and their soulmates take over a state, and run
it for their own ends. But he still thought of the state as the highest of all.
To be fair to Aristotle, in his Politics he does survey many
different political structures of his time, and points out some of the things
that were wrong with them. He lists what he sees as three true forms of
government – kingly rule, aristocracy and constitutional government – and three
perversions: tyranny, oligarchy and democracy. And he says: “Tyranny is a kind
of monarchy which has in view the interest of the monarch only; oligarchy has
in view the interest of the wealthy; democracy, of the needy: none of them the
common good of all.” He surely was right on that last point!
Near the end, he paints a picture of his ideal state. As to how
many people it should contain, he says: “If the citizens of a state are to
judge and to distribute offices according to merit, then they must know each
other’s characters.” And: “Clearly then the best limit of the population of a
state is the largest number which suffices for the purposes of life, and can be
taken in at a single view.” Aristotle’s ideal community is big enough to be
economically self-sufficient, yet small enough that people can know each other
fairly well. I concur with that.
John Locke’s contribution
John Locke (1632-1704) is one of my heroes. For far more
reasons than just our similar surnames. I have many times been asked whether I
am descended from him. To which I have to reply, no; for it is fairly well
established that he had no children.
Locke was born in Somerset, and educated at Westminster
School and Christ Church college, Oxford. He became a fellow of the college
(then known as a “student”) in 1658; where he taught Greek, rhetoric and moral
philosophy. He had many other interests, too: notably medicine, experimental
science, and the ideas of progressive philosophers like Descartes.
After Oxford, he took on a second career as personal
physician to an eminent politician of the day, Lord Shaftesbury. He also found
time to pursue a third career as a government bureaucrat; being secretary of
several commissions, and in his last years Commissioner of Excise Appeals. In
1683, he had to flee for six years to Holland, due to his connections with
Shaftesbury, and having been involved with some of the perpetrators of the Rye
House Plot.
His philosophical interests were wide. He wrote a number of
works on religion, in which he promoted tolerance. He ventured into epistemology,
with his “Essay Concerning Human Understanding.” While his ideas were not
accepted by all, they proved useful to several later thinkers, including David
Hume. He wrote on money and economics, and wrote manuals on educating children
and on rational thought. He also, as you might expect, wrote on ethics; but those
writings were not collected and published in his time. Scholars say that he
combined a natural-law view based on the supremacy of God, with an, apparently
contradictory, view that what causes pleasure is good, and what causes pain is
bad.
But it is on his political philosophy that his fame rests. In
particular, on his Two Treatises of Government, written in the early 1680s and
first published at the end of 1689. In the First Treatise, he utterly demolishes
the idea that kings have a “divine right” to rule. (It’s well worth a read, for
the way he does it). In the Second, he lays the foundations for Enlightenment
political philosophy, and for a more individual-friendly idea of government. This
one is even more worth the read. These works have led to Locke being called the
father of liberalism.
Locke saw the natural condition for human beings as: “a
state of perfect freedom to order their actions, and dispose of their
possessions and persons as they think fit, within the bounds of the law of
Nature, without asking leave or depending upon the will of any other man. A
state also of equality, wherein all the power and jurisdiction is reciprocal,
no one having more than another.” Moreover: “The state of Nature has a law of
Nature to govern it, which obliges every one. And reason, which is that law,
teaches all mankind who will but consult it, that being all equal and
independent, no one ought to harm another in his life, health, liberty or possessions.”
And, he says, natural law is “plain and intelligible to all rational
creatures.”
Locke saw the necessity of some kind of government. “The
great and chief end, therefore, of men uniting into commonwealths, and putting
themselves under government, is the preservation of their property; to which in
the state of Nature there are many things wanting.” But he also knew that, in
reality, governments often don’t deliver what they ought to. Many of the
“municipal laws of countries,” he said, were no more than “the fancies and
intricate contrivances of men, following contrary and hidden interests put into
words.” Such laws are “only so far right as they are founded on the law of
Nature.” And: “The end of law is not to abolish or restrain, but to preserve
and enlarge freedom.”
Moreover, there must be limits on government power. “Their
power in the utmost bounds of it is limited to the public good of the society.
It is a power that hath no other end but preservation, and therefore can never
have a right to destroy, enslave, or designedly to impoverish the subjects.”
And the public good is: “the good of every particular member of that society,
as far as by common rules it can be provided for.”
He also said that humans, bound together by the natural law
common to them all, “are one community, make up one society distinct from all
other creatures.” And “were it not for the corruption and viciousness of
degenerate men, there would be… no necessity that men should separate from this
great and natural community, and associate into lesser combinations.”
Franz Oppenheimer’s contribution
Franz Oppenheimer (1864-1943), a German Jewish thinker, is
mainly remembered for his analysis of the political state in his best-known book,
The State (1908). But his varied career has parallels with that of John
Locke. His first field of study was medicine, and he practised as a doctor for
almost a decade. After this, he became a magazine editor. At 45 years old, his doctoral
thesis was on the subject of economics; and for the rest of his working life,
he was an academic. He managed to get out of nazi Germany in 1938, and made his
way via Shanghai to Los Angeles, where he died in 1943.
Oppenheimer considered himself a liberal socialist. He was
no lover of “capitalism.” He regarded it as exploitation, often equating it
with slavery. But he was also no lover of the state, which he defined as: “an
organisation of one class dominating over the other classes.”
For me, by far his greatest insight is his famous
distinction between the economic means and the political means. “There are two
fundamentally opposed means whereby man, requiring sustenance, is impelled to
obtain the necessary means for satisfying his desires. These are work and
robbery, one's own labor and the forcible appropriation of the labor of others…
I propose in the following discussion to call one's own labor and the
equivalent exchange of one's own labor for the labor of others, the ‘economic
means’ for the satisfaction of needs, while the unrequited appropriation of the
labor of others will be called the ‘political means.’” Further: “All world
history, from primitive times up to our own civilization, presents a single
phase, a contest namely between the economic and the political means.” And: “The
state is an organization of the political means.”
Oppenheimer ended his book on an optimistic note. He foresaw
a new political system, which he called a “freemen’s citizenship,” taking over
the world. This system, he predicted, “will have changed its vital element by
the disappearance of the economic exploitation of one class by another.” Such
optimism was understandable in 1908, after half a century or more of peace and
progress in most of Europe. But just a few years later, I expect, he would have
been far less optimistic.
Moreover, he did not foresee that the state’s abuses would
spread far beyond the economic sphere. He did not foresee the rise of political
ideologies and agendas – such as communism, fascism, and later environmentalism
– that would provide excuses for states to rule over ordinary people without any
concern at all for their rights or freedoms. He did not foresee the state
apparatus becoming bigger and bigger, and more and more intrusive. And he did
not foresee that, 30 years later, he himself would have to flee Germany to
avoid becoming a victim of genocide.
Ayn Rand’s contribution
I certainly wouldn’t describe myself as an Ayn Rand groupie.
And I don’t much like the way her intellectual heirs have sought, since her
death, to close off the philosophy that she called Objectivism, and to set it
in stone. It has far too much smell of church for me. But in my time in the freedom
movement, I have known many Randians, and even some fully fledged Objectivists.
Since Jason Alexander, whom I mentioned above, has a Randian background, I
thought it might be useful, before going on to his ideas, to take a look at a
few of Rand’s.
For those who don’t know of her, Ayn Rand (as she was later to
call herself) was born into a Russian Jewish family in St. Petersburg in 1905. While
in Russia, she studied history and literature, and set herself to work towards
a career as a screenwriter. The primary influence on her philosophical thinking
was the work of Aristotle.
In 1926 she was allowed to go to the USA, and she decided to
stay, taking US citizenship in 1931. With time, she became more and more strongly
anti-communist and pro-free-market. She had Broadway success with a courtroom
drama, albeit with many difficulties on the way. After this, she concentrated more
on writing novels. Her two most successful novels were The Fountainhead
(1943) and Atlas Shrugged (1957), both of which have acquired cult
status among her followers. But she was never accepted by the intellectual
establishment. In the 1960s she switched to promoting her philosophical system,
which she called Objectivism, through writing non-fiction and giving lectures.
She died in 1982.
The central idea of Rand’s system is that five of the
branches of ancient Greek philosophy – Metaphysics, Epistemology, Ethics,
Politics, Aesthetics – form a hierarchy or stack. Or, as I like to put it, they
fit together like a layer cake, in which each layer builds on the ones below it. I’m told this idea pre-dated Rand. But she
(rightly) seized on it, and used it as a corner-stone of her philosophy. I have
diagrammed below the five branches, with the questions addressed by each level,
as given on an Objectivist “Importance of Philosophy” website.
Figure 1 –
Overview of Ayn Rand’s system (Objectivism)
These look to me like some pretty good questions to be going on with (as long as you read them from the bottom up). Though I’m not sure about the wording of the politics question. Permissible for whom? Permissible by whom? I also wonder whether Aesthetics is the right branch to have up there at the top of the tree, and why Economics isn’t in the stack at all?
To Metaphysics first. Objectivism holds that the universe
we live in is real; or, in Rand’s words, “existence exists.” That there is just
one reality, the one in which we live. And that humans have free will, even if
we don’t yet understand exactly how it works. I can agree with all of these. I
can also agree with the idea that to exist is to be something; which
Rand put in the famous John Galt speech in Atlas Shrugged as “existence is
identity.”
As to Epistemology, I agree with the thrust of her ideas;
that we turn sense data into percepts or specific thoughts, then generalize
them into more abstract concepts, then assemble them using logic into
conclusions. Then we pass the conclusions through our bullshit meters; we check
them against reality. To that last process, Rand gave the name Objectivity. Myself,
I add one more layer. I place Science – the best methodology we have yet discovered
for finding new knowledge – at the top of the epistemological tree.
I can’t, however, agree with Rand that the perception
process is flawless. Rather, I prefer her advice to “Check your premises,” to
avoid errors due to mis-perceiving or mis-remembering.
Overall, I was pleasantly surprised to find how close my
own ideas in this area – as I put them in “Honest Common Sense” – are to
Rand’s. Particularly since this area was one of her greatest strengths. It may
be because I had read about the epistemology of the Stoics, on which Rand
grounded her thinking in this area. Or perhaps, years ago, I listened to
someone expound Rand’s ideas; and took in an awful lot more than I appreciated
at the time. Including, even, some of her terminology. It may also have
something to do with the fact that, having been trained long ago as a
mathematician, I tend to think in a bottom-up way, building new ideas on top of
what I already know; just as Rand’s approach does.
On to Ethics. Here, something Rand wrote in a 1964 essay
called “The Objectivist Ethics,” grabbed my attention. “The fact that a living
entity is, determines what it ought to do. So much for the issue of the
relation between ‘is’ and ‘ought.’” The point she was making was
that different kinds of living entity need to behave in different ways in order
to preserve, and to make good use of, their lives. Plants, for example, can
obtain their food without effort, from the soil in which they grow. Animals, in
contrast, need to act with purpose in order to obtain food; for example, by
hunting. And humans must do more still; as rational beings, they have to think
and to do productive work, in order to satisfy their needs.
But in my opinion, the words she used understated her
case. I would have said: What a living entity is, determines what it
ought to do. Meaning, the identity of a living being determines how it should
behave. Otherwise put: Identity determines morality. What is right and wrong
for a lion or a giraffe, say, comes from their natures. A lion by nature hunts
and eats animals such as zebras; a giraffe picks leaves, fruits or flowers off tall
trees. If they tried to exchange behaviours, the new behaviours would be wrong
for both. And so, both would go hungry.
For humans, all this leads us back to Aristotle’s “eye, by
which to judge rightly and choose what is truly good.” What is right and wrong
for human beings to do, comes from human nature. Thus, it is the same for all
human beings. It’s also not far away from John Locke’s “law of Nature,” or from
the natural law of people like Thomas Aquinas.
Although I base my ethical views on rights ahead of virtues,
I do like Rand’s list of virtues. Rationality: acting according to facts and
reason. Independence: forming your own judgements, and living by your own
efforts; like Aristotle’s self-sufficiency. Integrity: not sacrificing your
convictions to the opinions or wishes of others. Honesty: which Rand defines as
never attempting to fake reality. Justice: not seeking for yourself, or
allowing to others, what is not deserved or earned. Productiveness: creating
value for others. And Pride: a rational respect for yourself. Not the kind of
pride that goes before a fall, but the kind that comes after deserved
achievement.
Moreover, Rand recognizes that individual rights are key.
Though her conception of rights isn’t as broad as mine. She, rightly, rejects
the use or threat of initiatory force to violate life, property, or security of
person. But she doesn’t extend that to violations of other fundamental rights
such as privacy, or rights of non-impedance such as the freedom to distribute
your ideas. And Objectivism says that rights are absolute; while for me, your rights
are, in part at least, conditional on your respecting the equal rights of
others.
I do, however, agree with Rand that property rights are a
direct extension of the right to life. As are the rights both to self-defence,
and to means of self-defence sufficient to deal with the level of threat
that you are likely to meet.
Next, Politics. Like Rand and John Locke, I seek a minimalist
form of governance. For I agree with Tom Paine that “government is a necessary
evil.” It is, regrettably, necessary to organize ourselves to deliver justice,
and to stop the bad guys and gals from harming us. But my idea of governance is
some way from the Objectivist take. I don’t self-identify as an “anarchist,”
but I have as much contempt for the state – which I see as a system that allows
moral privileges to an élite,
that enable them to rule over others – as any anarchist does.
In particular, I can’t agree with Rand that some group of
people should be allowed a monopoly of force. For me, everyone has the right,
at need, to use appropriate force in self-defence, in defence of others or in
delivering justice. I also don’t accept that some particular person or clique
of people should be privileged to invent new laws by which to bind others. For
such laws are apt to become, in John Locke’s words, “the fancies and intricate
contrivances of men, following contrary and hidden interests put into words.”
And then there’s capitalism, for which Rand had a very high
regard. So much so, that Objectivists see laissez-faire capitalism not
just as an economic system, but as the only moral social system. Now, I’m
rather leery of this word, because it’s very often misunderstood. Franz
Oppenheimer, for one, seems to have misunderstood it; for he saw in capitalism
the exploitation that can arise when the dishonest run economic enterprises, but
not the positive benefits to all parties which capitalism brings when done with
honesty and integrity.
My own approach makes the distinction between true
capitalism, an economic system founded on property rights in a free market, and
crony capitalism, a system in which corporate recipients of state favour are
able to make themselves rich. The first kind of capitalism is good; the second is
bad. So, on this matter, I will agree with Rand’s sentiments, but not with her
specific choice of word.
To the top of the tree: Aesthetics. Surely, Aesthetics is
important; but I think it ought to have some companions in that box.
Creativity, for one. For no-one can appreciate a work of art, or literature, or
music until someone has created that work. And I’d put Economics in there, too.
Because economic creativity and trade are what enable human beings to flourish
sufficiently, to have resources and time to enjoy and appreciate the finer
things in life.
Jason Alexander’s contribution
Of my six thinkers, Jason Alexander is the least well known.
I met him only once, in San Francisco in 1990; and I corresponded with him on
and off until about 2002. I’m not even sure whether he is still alive.
Jason Alexander likes to write short books. And his prose is
often very pithy. It was he who told me: “Ideas that are alive, grow and
change.” Another of my favourites among his aphorisms is: “In the world of
ideas, employment is coin of the realm.” Here are some more: “Nature is an
extraordinarily powerful ally.” “Given presumes no giver.” “Politics is passé.” “Scholars are paid to
quarrel.” And his dismissal of our enemies as “the three P’s: Priests, Politicians
and Professors.”
Only one of his books, a 1978 fable called “Why Johnny
Can’t,” is still in print. His master-work, “Philoscience,” was published in
1991. But it was quickly removed from the bookshelves; I assume for lawsuit
reasons. Luckily, I had already bought a copy. Which still sits in my bookcase,
alongside two of his other books from the 1980s.
I have diagrammed Jason Alexander’s system as follows.
Figure 2 – Overview of Jason Alexander’s system
(Philoscience)
Beyond Ayn Rand’s scheme which I discussed earlier, he brings some new and elevating ideas. First, he makes explicit the hierarchy of the five branches. He says: “Each more complex category is built upon and depends on the one below it.” He also gives names to the processes of moving up or down the stack. Understanding is movement up the stack, from the bottom upwards. Each layer stands under, or underpins, the ones above it; and the individual, whose thinking moves in this direction, acquires understanding. The top-down direction of movement, on the other hand, is Overstanding. Or, if you prefer a word from a Latin root, Superstition. I myself prefer to call these directions “bottom-up” and “top-down.”
Second, he has identified the subject matter, not as five
branches, but as five dimensions. As you go up the stack, each dimension adds a
new direction and a new richness to the whole. And he has given his own names
to the dimensions; in English, rather than Greek. Identity is what things are.
Identification is how we know it. The ethical dimension, he labels Choice. Though
I give it a rather different moniker, conviviality; a word I have
borrowed from Frank van Dun, and which I’ll explain a little later. The
political dimension he calls Civilization. And the highest level, which he says
(and I agree) corresponds to a lot more than just Aesthetics, he dubs Creativity.
I have found these ideas of Understanding and dimensions most
helpful. Particularly in the fourth dimension, where they have enabled me
clearly to distinguish Civilization (organizing community and social structures
from the bottom up, fuelled by Understanding) from Politics (organizing them from
the top down, fuelled by Overstanding).
But after Understanding and the five dimensions, the key
element in Alexander’s thinking for me is his view of history, which he calls
Ages and Stages. In this view, human history to date reflects the long battle
of our species to open up our dimensions. At any time, Revolutionaries – whom
he also calls Lovers of Knowledge – are battling to open up the next new
dimension. That’s you and me, folks! And the times in which we succeed – when
we open up, and start to explore, a new dimension – are Revolutions. But these
are not necessarily political revolutions. As Alexander says: “Revolution need
not be violent and Revolutionaries need not be revolting.” Against us, on the
other hand, are arrayed the reactionaries, that he calls Lovers of Wisdom or
LOWers. These are our enemies, seeking to prevent us progressing to the next
level, or even to haul us back down towards where we started from.
I shall be covering Ages and Stages in some detail in the
second essay in this set. In which, I will take the liberty of modifying Jason
Alexander’s list of the five Revolutions somewhat, to align it more closely
with my own perception of the rhythms of human history.
I’ll end this section with two Jason Alexander quotes. The
first sums up where we are today. “The current surface fomentation against
politicians is only symptomatic of a deeper revolution that is brewing. That
deeper revolution is identification of ‘us and them.’ It is time to understand
who ‘we’ are, and perhaps more effectively in the short run, who ‘they’ are.”
The second quote comes from a small booklet called “The
Environment of Freedom,” which he prepared to accompany his speech for the
occasion in 1990 on which I met him. He foresaw “a species separation on the
order of the Neanderthal extinction.” Strong stuff!
Frank van Dun’s contribution
The last of my six thinkers is Frank van Dun (born 1947). He
is a Belgian philosopher of law, and I have known him since 1995. His three main
contributions to my philosophical thinking all come from a paper called
“Concepts of Order,” written in 2006 as part of a tribute to Anthony de Jasay.
The paper seems no longer to be available on his website, but Anthony Flood has
preserved it at his site: [[1]].
Van Dun’s first contribution is a single word: “convivial.”
This he conceived as a translation of the Dutch samenleving, meaning
living together. But for a native English speaker like me, the word has also a
secondary meaning, of feasting in good company. Thus, I interpret “convivial” to
mean living together well. So, using this word I can correct Aristotle’s
“Man is by nature a political animal” to: Humans are by nature convivial
animals. It is our nature, not just to live together, but to live together for
mutual benefit.
His second contribution came when I noticed that he was
using this word in two different contexts: one ethical, one political. He talks
of “the laws of conviviality,” which “must be discovered; they need not be
invented.” This is the ethical side. There is a code of conduct which, if adhered
to, renders an individual convivial; or otherwise said, fit to be lived with.
On the other side, he also talks of the “convivial order.”
This is an order in which “people live together regardless of their membership,
status, position, role or function in any, let alone the same, society.” This
is the political half. He describes the order as anarchical, and maintained by,
among other things, a mixture of prudence and common decency.
I had an aha! after I linked the two together in one
sentence: The convivial order is the order which results when everyone keeps
to the laws of conviviality. Now, Aristotle said: “Law is order.” But no! I
thought. Law and order are not the same thing! Order is political; law
is ethical. Order is what results, when law – that is, a suitable ethical code
– is obeyed. That aha! has enabled me greatly to clarify the boundary
between ethics and politics within my updated system.
Frank van Dun’s third contribution, in the same paper, is to
confirm for me that what is right and wrong for a human being to do comes from the
nature of human beings. He says: “What natural persons can or cannot do is not
defined by any set of legal rules. It is
defined by their nature, which we have to accept as ‘a given’ and to study
accordingly.”
To sum up
So, what have I learned from each of these six thinkers?
From Aristotle, I have gained a wide perspective,
particularly on ethical matters; and a sense that my own ideas are not so far
away from those of some of the great thinkers of the past. From John Locke, I
have gained an understanding and appreciation of natural law, and of political
philosophy. And Franz Oppenheimer has helped me to appreciate the vastness of
the chasm between economic and political ways of doing things; and thus,
between us human beings and our enemies.
From Ayn Rand, I have gained confidence that my thinking
at the levels of metaphysics and epistemology is pointing in broadly the right
direction. And it was her effort to bypass David Hume’s “is/ought problem”
which first set me thinking about the relation between ethics and the nature of
the species. From Jason Alexander, I have learned about the five dimensions of
being human, about how they fit together, and about the revolutionary wars in
which we have engaged in order to open them up. And Frank van Dun has not only given
me the word convivial, but has also helped me find the dividing line
between ethics and politics.
And I’ve learned two more things. One, I now feel that as a philosopher I have things to say, which go beyond any of my six. And two, now seems like a good time to say them.
