Mind, History, and Dialetic: The Philosophy of R.G. Collingwood by Louis Mink

An overview of Collingwood's project

In this work, Louis Mink proves himself a sympathetic but not uncritical expositor of Collingwood's thought. Mink recognizes that Collingwood was a systematic thinker and that Collingwood was also economical in his writing–not often repeating contentions or arguments from book to book. And, of course, Collingwood’s thought developed over time. 

Mink identifies Speculum Mentis (1923) as the template of for Collingwood's later thinking, and he then reveals how RGC (Collingwood) alters and details that map in his later works. I’ve read all of RGC’s major works except Religion and Philosophy (1916), An Essay on Philosophical Method (1932), and An Essay on Metaphysics (1940). By having completed Mink's book, I've gained a greater sense of what I'm missing and how these works tie together in Collingwood's overall project. 

For instance, Mink clarifies Collingwood's ideas about "the logic of question and answer," which, as Mink demonstrates, is not a (propositional) logic at all, but a theory of inquiry. Mink also clarifies Collingwood's notion of "absolute presuppositions," another one of Collingwood's concepts that is often misunderstood and widely criticized, but that makes sense with Collingwood's larger scheme. Mink also addresses many of the sticking points found in The Idea of History (1946--posthumous publication). The way that Mink unpacks some the peculiarities of Collingwood's insights can save readers from the gamut of responses often suffered when reading and contemplating The Ideas of History initially. In my experience, these responses can run from thinking "unique" to "brilliant" to "really? to "dogmatic and arbitrary" to "nonsense!"--all concerning one concept or argument! Mink's efforts to place these ideas, such as "all history is the history of thought," in the context of Collingwood's entire opus allows the reader to (perhaps) return to the initial response of "unique" and "brilliant" that may well have been justified in the first place, Mink's effort may also spares us from suffering unjustified reams of critical complaints based on faulty assumptions. All of this is not to say that Mink isn't critical, but only that he makes sure that he's dug as deeply as possible to get at the fundamental insights that Collingwood has attempted to convey before he levels any criticism.  

One other point of value also worth adding is that Mink briefly explores similarities between Collingwood's thought and that of pragmatism and existentialism. Collingwood didn't directly address these contemporary philosophical schools, but Mink points out some striking similarities. For my part, I also see some intriguing similarities between Collingwood's thought and that of Hannah Arendt, herself a unique offspring of the German existentialist school of thought, especially regarding the topics of political action, the crisis of the 20th-century, and democracy. 

I’ve read only a couple of other book-length considerations of RGC’s work (one focused on The Ideas of History & the Fred Inglis biography, History Man), but Mink’s book has provided the most thorough and well-presented roadmap of Collingwood’s project as a whole that I can imagine anyone writing in a single, 268-page text.

Images & Reflections About the Climate Strike

Marching to Battery Park

They just keep coming!

Grade school kids having their say!

A river of humanity, young, old, and everyone in-between, representing about every demographic and identity one could imagine--as only New York City can--rallied and protested yesterday. The scene was a mixture of carnival and the utmost seriousness (reminding me of demonstrations in the early 1970s). Of course, diversity also means disagreement. I'm one to look at a poster and ponder whether it's accurate and most often its not--at least not entirely so. But these demonstrations are about symbols and numbers. A vast number of people around the world are frightened about the increasingly real peril that climate change poses to our shared well-being as a civilization (now global) and as a species. At demonstrations, we focus on slogans, symbols, and personalities ("Greta Thunberg for President!" "We Love Greta!" and so on). All well & good for the present, but we have to translate this concern into policy--and here we'll encounter conflict. And here the challenge is to engage in meaningful political action: in other words, speech. We must act to find common cause and to sort answers, all in good faith (and knowing that good faith is not always in play). Whatever changes we make (or don't make), someone's ox will get gored (as my medieval history prof used to say about attempting to discern the motives of political players in medieval history). Or, to put it another way, some will be made worse off, some better off. It's a moral and political and economic question of the highest order. So, the hard work lies ahead. The U.S. Congress and the executive branch must mobilize to act, and that will occur if there's a tidal wave of popular sentiment conveyed to those folks.

So, now write, call, email, & converse with every elected official you can. Keep talking with your friends and neighbors. We'll either address these issues through talk or by violence. Let's make the right choice.

"A personal overview of Collingwood’s New Leviathan" by David Pierce: A brief cover note

This will complete a Collingwood trifecta today (aren't you lucky!). This one is by David Pierce, an American logician and mathematician who teaches in Turkey. I just discovered his blog a couple of days ago, and he has a wide range of interests, not the least of which is the philosophy of R.G. Collingwood. The post linked below marks the beginning of a careful walk through the last work published in Collingwood's life, The New Leviathan. I've only begun my trek through this series of posts, but Pierces's commentary adds a delicate sauce to Collingwood's sometimes Spartan sentences. (N.B., Collingwood is a fine stylist and often a pleasure to read, but in NL, he adopts a leaner form and style.)

Enjoy!

POLYTROPY.COM

A personal overview of Collingwood’s New Leviathan

These are the notes of an amateur of the work of the philosopher R. G. Collingwood. Published in 1942, The New Leviathan was the last book that…

"How the untimely death of RG Collingwood changed the course of philosophy forever" by Ray Monk: A note & link

A very recent appreciation of Collingwood by the biographer of Bertrand Russell and Ludwig Wittgenstein, Ray Monk. Monk posits that Collingwood and the later Wittgenstein were kindred philosophical spirits and that British philosophy would have taken a different course if Collingwood would not have died young and been replaced by Gilbert Ryle, a militant analytical philosopher who came to dominate British philosophy in the post-war period. A worthwhile appreciation of Collingwood as a person of diverse interests and an outstanding philosophical project. 

PROSPECTMAGAZINE.CO.UK

How the untimely death of RG Collingwood changed the course of philosophy forever

The passing of this eclectic and questioning man in his prime allowed the narrower and more imperious Gilbert Ryle to dominate British philosophy. Had Collingwood lived, could the deep and damaging schism with continental thought have been avoided?

"R.G. Collingwood on the corruption of democracy" by Jonathan Ree: An appreciation & link

Since about 2014, I've become quite an admirer of the work of the philosopher R.G. Collingwood (1889-1943). He's best known of his book THE IDEA OF HISTORY (published posthumously in 1946) and other works of philosophy. But he dedicated much of his time before his impending death (of which he was quite aware) addressing the issues raised by the politics of the 1930s. This article by philosopher Jonathan Ree provides a peek at Collingwood's effort to address political issues. It's worth the read--Collingwood's insights seem quite pertinent today.

NEWHUMANIST.ORG.UK

R.G. Collingwood on the corruption of democracy

The philosopher, historian and archaeologist argued for the importance of "politically educated public opinion".

Roy Cohn & Donald Trump: The Master & the New Master via Maureen Dowd & Matt Tyrnauer, Documentary Filmmaker

Read at least this much & you get the gist of the article:

'“Roy Cohn did the impossible,” Mr. Tyrnauer said. “He created a president from beyond the grave. I don’t think there’s any disputing that. The basic lessons that Trump learned from Cohn were: Never apologize. If someone hits you, hit them back a thousand times harder. Any publicity is good publicity. And find an ‘other.’”

He said that the origin of Mr. Cohn’s career in the 1950s was dooming the Rosenbergs to the electric chair, Jews as Bolsheviks and fifth columnists, and going after gay people in the State Department. [SNG note: Cohn was Jewish & gay.]

“With Trump, the other is Mexicans, Latinos, Muslims, I mean, fill in the blank,” he said. “The lesson of this from history is: Pick your other. That’s what a demagogue does. Trump’s kind of an empty vessel. I think he’s eerily similar to Joe McCarthy in that way. I think it basically comes down to something Ken Auletta said in the film: What a demagogue does is throw out an untruth or a lie and then stands back and watches as that fills the void.”

. . . .

Flamboyant and ruthless met flamboyant and ruthless when Mr. Cohn collided with a young builder named Donald Trump at Le Club sometime in the ’70s.'

NYTIMES.COM

Matt Tyrnauer: Chronicler of Trump’s Mentor Roy Cohn

A Vanity Fair correspondent turned documentarian with a fascination for figures of the late 20th century.

A Secret History of Christianity: Jesus, the Last Inkling, and the Evolution Of Consciousness by Mark Vernon

I came to this book through the back door; that is, it was not the “Secret History of Christianity” that grabbed me (not a unique title), but the subtitle “the Last Inkling and the Evolution of Consciousness.” This phrase no doubt referred to Owen Barfield and his line of thought about the evolution of consciousness. Barfield has been on my radar for years as I’ve sought to become more familiar with his deep insights. While Barfield is a lucid writer, his thought dives deep and sometimes can leave the reader adrift. And unlike his more famous Inkling companions C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, Barfield never reached great numbers with his works (which only included a relatively small amount of fiction and poetry). So, I thought, perhaps this work would reveal more about Barfield’s project to me.

Alas, it did not. After an initial cursory introduction to Barfield’s key notion of “original participation” followed by “withdrawal participation” and “reciprocal participation,” and a nod to French anthropologist Lucien Levy-Bruehl about his idea of “participation mystique,” Vernon plunges directly  into a history of the Hebrew Bible through the lens of the concept of “participation.” From that starting point, he moves on into a review of ancient Greek culture through the same lens. In both traditions, the earlier manifestations of those cultures were marked by “original participation” with the world around them. As Vernon describes it, the phenomena refer “to the felt experience of participating in life. Original participation dominates when there is little distinction between what’s felt to be inside someone and what’s outside because the boundaries of individual self - consciousness, which today we take for granted, are not in place.” (p. 3; loc. 264.) Or as Barfield describes it: “Early man did not observe nature in our detached way . . . . He participated mentally and physically in her inner and outer processes.” (p. 3; loc. 269.) Vernon proceeds to take the reader through a brief history of the Hebrew Bible to illustrate this phenomenon and the eventual shift away from a consciousness marked by original participation to one of “withdrawal participation,” which is marked by a shift away from immersion in the surrounding world into a greater sense of individuality. As Vernon describes it, “An awareness of separation, even isolation, is felt. A person will begin to sense that they have an inner life that is, relatively speaking, their own. (p. 3; loc. 273.)

After completing his brief but illuminating history of the Hebrew Bible, Vernon moves across the street, as it were, and does the same with ancient Greek culture, displaying the same dynamic at work. Like the Hebrew prophets, the emerging Greek philosophers (culminating in Socrates) promote a greater sense of individuality and individual agency. The world of Achilles in the Iliad is significantly different from that of Socrates. As Vernon points out, another way to look at this shift is to discern a growing sense of individuality and the use of introspection by individuals.

With the advent of the Hellenistic Age in the wake of Alexander the Great and his successors, these two lines of thought—Hebrew and Greek—begin to encounter one another and interact. Out of this mixture arises the life of Jesus and the coming of Christianity. It’s at this point that I must quibble about the first part of the title of this book, “the Secret History of Christianity.” What Vernon writes about in this section and the sources he draws upon is not Dan Brown material. Rather, the sources that Vernon draws upon are neither secret nor very unorthodox. (Although he does cite the Gospel of Thomas, which is outside of the sanctioned Scriptures, that’s about as far out of the mainstream that he goes.) Vernon’s portrait of Jesus draws upon the Four Evangelists and Paul to demonstrate that Jesus was taking his followers deeper into the interior life. Vernon demonstrates his argument with quotations from the Gospels and Paul that should prove familiar to any reader. He emphasizes the message of interiority preached by Jesus and the desire of Jesus to prompt a metanoia—a change of mind (or heart-mind, as I’m persuaded may prove a more adept translation). Vernon argues that Jesus didn’t intend to set down new sets of rules to follow, but instead, he intended to change our awareness; to find the root of our conduct on the inside. (I can’t help but recall the scene in Monty Python’s Life of Brian where the supposed messiah (Brian) loses a sandal while attempting to flee the crowd and the crowd takes this as a directive to shed their sandals--or something. Ah, literalism.) In short, Vernon provides a convincing and attractive portrait of Jesus that comports with Barfield’s theory of “participation” and that comports with sound Biblical scholarship. Sorry, no lost gospels or secret societies here.

Vernon continues his tour of Christian culture and belief through the early Church on to Augustine, whose interiority further expands this Christian insight and who develops the idea of the will to better understand an individual’s volition. Vernon follows this path continuing up through the Renaissance, which—contra Burkhardt—Vernon argues does not provide a definitive break with medieval culture and belief. But the Reformation, which follows upon the Renaissance and does alter the course of the evolution of consciousness. The Reformation, in the words and works of Luther and Calvin and their followers, placed a significantly increased emphasis on the individual’s conscience. The Reformation, along with the Scientific Revolution, altered the ways that individuals saw themselves and their world. The advent of the printing press, like the advent of literacy and private reading in earlier times, greatly facilitated (or perhaps more it’s more accurate to say, helped cause) this change in consciousness. Humanity became more aware of how to manipulate the world around it and gained an increased sense of individual agency. But these gains came at the cost of losing much (and in some cases all) of the sense of belonging to the cosmos that had survived through the Renaissance. Christianity, as a result, tended more toward literalism and faith as belief rather than trust. This trend has continued up through the present, but Vernon identifies signs that humanity may be ready to move into a mode of “reciprocal participation.”

Vernon identifies “imagination” as the key to reaching a state of reciprocal participation. In this argument, Vernon echoes many of the themes that Gary Lachman identified in his 2017 publication, Lost Knowledge of the Imagination. As both authors note, imagination is not another word for fantasy; both authors draw upon Samuel Taylor Coleridge for guidance in describing the role and function of imagination and its distinction from what Coleridge labeled as “fantasy.” Also, Vernon discusses the body of poetic and visual works of William Blake as a master of informed imagination.

Thus, while I didn’t experience an in-depth dive into Barfield’s thought (although Barfield’s work does resurface prominently toward the end of the book), I did receive a persuasive application of how Barfield’s perspective can apply to the history of Western Christianity. An for those who want a helpful introduction to Barfield’s project, one can turn to Gary Lachman, who refers to Barfield frequently, and at depth in his works ASecret History of Consciousness and Caretakers of the Cosmos. And as to having a not-so-secret history of Christianity added to the piles of books written about the history of Christianity, Vernon’s effort is worthwhile. The fact the sources that Vernon draws upon are not occult doesn’t mean that the project isn’t valuable; it is. While not secret, his understanding of Christianity is not widespread so far as I can discern. The description that he provides is one that could prove useful as we go forward to meet the challenges ahead. He hopes to see Christianity (along with other wisdom traditions) bridge the gap between our alienation from the world around us (and ourselves) and the gifts that individuality and science have brought to us. This is a noble and vital enterprise, and one that deserves our thanks—and our reading time.

"The Year of the Flood" & "Maddaddam" by Margaret Atwood

2009, #2 in the trilogy

2013, # 3 in the trilogy

These two novels are the successors to Atwood's 2003 Oryx & Crake. These two later novels complete this dystopian trilogy. 

I wrote how horrifying Oryx and Crake was for me. Not in a horror story fashion, but in the way that Orwell's 1984 and such can be labeled "horror." That is, not by the fright elements of some supernatural or embodied form of metaphysical evil, but by the plausibility of the evil described, the banality of some future state that conjures up a more mundane but no less lethal evil. But these two later journies give us some respite from what struck me as the overweening sense of doom in the first novel. 

Not that anything is "good" in these novels, except the few people in it who survive and attempt some modicum of humanity. The Year of the Flood focuses on two female characters in the story, Ren and Toby (and to a lesser extent on a third, Amanda). Their stories draw us in and arouse a sense of sympathy with their struggles to survive and thrive. Thus, unlike Oryx & Crake, which overwhelmed me with foreboding of inevitable doom,in The Year of the Flood I didn't feel plagued by this sense, bad as situations were in this novel for these lead characters. The main characters come from the world of corporate gated communities and corporate enterprises (the nation-state is non-existent), as opposed to those who live and work in the "pleeblands."  Also, the main characters all become involved with "God's Gardners" an eco-apocalyptic Christian group. (Cult? Perhaps.) The group is led by the charismatic Adam One, and they prepare for the "waterless flood" that will soon overtake the earth. In the meantime, the group squirrels away provisions in "arhats." Their calendar is marked with a unique panoply of saints, such as "Saint Euell Gibbons" (for those old enough: the Grapenuts guy), "Saint Jane Goodall," "Saint Rachel Carson," and the like. The Gardners are pacific but not without guile. 

The concluding book, Maddaddam, takes one of the peripheral characters in The Year of the Flood, Zeb, and focuses on his story and those who survive what became the "waterless flood." Zeb is the scoundrel and survivor, and he contrasts to the pacifist-prone Adam One. In addition to learning Zeb's backstory (via a clumsy but perhaps necessary plot device), we learn about those who survived into the post-flood world. These groups include a band of post-Gardner humans; super-intelligent "pigoons" (genetically altered pigs); "Crakers," genetically modified humans with pacific and randy traits; and "Painballers," debased criminals who have survived the punishment turned spectacle of "Painball," an experience much like the hunger games of Susan Collins's series of that name. And while this post-apocalyptic novel has cruelties and horrors abounding, it is a tale of survival and learning and of the human enterprise. 

It seems to me that dystopian fiction always has a prophetic element inherent in it. And by prophetic, I don't mean foretelling the future, like a soothsayer or fortune teller, but of providing a moral exhortation in the form of an implied "if-then" proposition, in the manner of Old Testament prophets or Cassandra in Greek mythology. Perhaps the reason that the year 1984 was not too much like the Orwell's 1984 is that we heeded, even in the slightest echos, Orwell's implicit prophecy. So it should be with Atwood's trilogy. Inherent in this extended tale is a vision of the future that I hope no sane person would want. Yet it is all too plausible. The dis-ease with which one leaves this trilogy should remain with us and give us pause as we choose our future. 

083019 Krugman, Trump, The Music Man, Iowa, & Farmers

Professor Harold Hill, a/k/a The Music Man

I have to admit that from the time that our current president became a candidate for president, in lighter moments, I identified him with the figure of "Professor" Harold Hill, a/k/a "The Music Man." The association just popped into my head. Meredith Wilsons's musical about "River City," Iowa was on the big screen when I was young, with Robert Preston in the title role. My mom took me to the (old) Page Theatre to see it. It turns out that contrary, skeptical Iowans* could be bamboozled by a fast-talkin' city-slicker. The good folks of River City were taken-in, but through the redeeming love of "Marian, madame librarian," Hill is reformed, and all ends well.

After three wives and innumerable mistresses and one-night stands, there's been no redemption of Trump. And so many Iowans were bamboozled again in 2016 with no happy ending in sight. (A shout-out to Iowa City and Johnson County for resisting the tide.) In the article below, Paul Krugman details how Iowa (and other) farmers have been fleeced. And while getting fleeced, mocked by the miscreants ("the whine cellar"). It's a sad and disturbing tale. Farming is hard, dangerous work, full of challenges and subject to Nature's whims as well as those of markets and governments. Farmers don't need more problems.

I do question whether Krugman's attribution of motives is accurate, however. PK overlooks that fact that Iowa was 2x carried by Obama, and voted for Al Gore in 2000. There are many Iowa voters (and others around the country) that voted for Obama and then turned around and voted for Trump. This is a turn-around that has perplexed me since the election. It could be we have different voters who turned out in each of those three elections, but that certainly can't account for the switch in the state-wide vote tally. And neither, obviously, can mere brand (party) loyalty explain the results. Most voters, I believe, claim to vote for "the candidate." I surmise that many of those votes that switched from Obama to Trump were protest votes; a desperate "why not?" attitude when Trump's opponent came to be identified with a status quo that has become increasingly difficult for rural and small-town voters. Let's hope for all our sakes that folks wake-up to the reality around us.

*"And we're so by God stubborn/ We could stand touchin' noses/ For a week at a time/ And never see eye-to-eye")

I

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NYTIMES.COM

Opinion | The Frauding of America’s Farmers

Trump’s biggest supporters are his biggest victims.

Has the World Gone Mad? Episode 1

The Pied Piper leading the children to their doom

Reading the paper this morning, one headline struck me as almost insane, causing me shock, dismay, and anger. Sometimes you don't know how to respond, how to name your feelings. The caption read

E.P.A. to Roll Back Regulations on Methane, a Potent Greenhouse Gas

This caption comes hard on the heels of articles about the extreme number of fires in the Amazon. The Brazilian president, Bolinsaro-- a demagogue--reacted with disdain to cries of outrage from around the world. He changed his tune, however, when the Europeans (led by France) threatened to cancel a trade deal with Brazil. These actions--to reduce efforts to quell methane emissions and to promote the destruction of the Amazon's vital rain forest--are suicidally stupid.  

These events, and the many more like them, may seem almost hum-drum given the steady drumbeat of dismaying news that we all experience. But stop and think about it: these decisions are insane--the public policy equivalent of playing Russian roulette with a six-shooter. Are we--are our leaders--crazy? The answer is--at least in part--yes. And we elected them. (Well, sort of; most often in a pseudo-democratic manner, oftentimes in the way of a weighted plebiscite sufficient to provide a patina of democratic legitimacy.  About whom am I thinking? Trump, Boris Johnson (UK), Victor Orban (Hungary), Recep Erdogan (Turkey), Putin (Russia), Duarte (Philippines), Chavez-Maduro (Venezuala). And this is just an off-the-top-of-my-head list. 

Now you should say, of course, we've always had demagogues and dictators. True. But of the autocrats listed above all obtained power in either established or aspiring democracies. In other words, nations with enough of a culture and set of institutions not to have fallen prey to--or continue to follow--the illusions of these demagogues. But men [sic] of this ilk have gained control--even in the U.S. Never have Americans experienced a president so incompetent, ignorant, and disdainful of American values. His lack of any sense of civic duty or shared visions has been obvious since he entered into the public limelight. He doesn't try to hide his narcissistic nihilism. How did he get elected?*

What's going on? 

The answer is no doubt complex and perhaps ultimately unknowable with any certainty. We must anticipate that any explanation tendered will prompt other accounts, or claims that what we think is a real threat is only a mirage.

The human herd is spooked. This is nothing new. History is replete with incidents of mass delusion and social breakdown. Go back and look at medieval history and various millenarian movements in that era. Consider the Terror of the French Revolution, the Taiping Rebellion, the First World War, the Second World War, the Holocaust, the Killing Fields of Cambodia. Alas, I could go on and on. Remember also that the Adolf Hitler rose to power in Germany through a legitimate process--just as the scoundrels that I listed above have done. (They throw the window-dressing of democracy and the rule of law out the window at their earliest possible convenience, however.) 

So what explanation might we tender for our current time of malaise? Economic (and now ecological) uncertainty plays a part. Perhaps a sense of foreboding as population demands, the "brave new world" of automation, and the ever-present reality of nukes, cyber warfare, and terrorism take their toll on our collective psyche. Also, the growing inequality in the U.S., especially, with the decline in quality of life among less-educated whites, plays a crucial role. (This group was a solid block that supported Trump.)  

I intend to come back to this topic, and I invite comments and suggestions. I'll also try to identify various trains of thought about this topic. Just for starters, here are a couple of works that I've found insightful: 

Peter Turchin, Ages of Discord: A Structural-Demographic Analysis of American History. 

Pankaj Mishra, Age of Anger: A History of the Present. 

*However, most Americans did not vote for Trump. More voters voted for Clinton. 

Ecology & the Politics of Scarcity Revisited by William Ophuls & A. Stephen Boyan, Jr.

Published in 1992 but still worth the time.

The first question to ask about this book is why anyone would want to read a book that was originally published in in 1977 and then revised in 1992 about topics such as the environment and ecology, about which we've gathered so much new data and written so much in the intervening years.  Haven’t things changed a great deal since then?  Won’t the information contained in this book prove ridiculously out of date?  The answer to these questions is both yes and no, but the gist of the book remains remarkably pertinent to our current situation.  My intention in reading this book was to further mine the insights of its primary author, William Ophuls.  I have already read the five books that Ophuls has published since Ecology and the Politics of Scarcity Revisited (1992), but I’m eager for more.

In this work, which is an updated version of his 1977 original, Ophuls and coauthor A . Stephen Boyan, Jr. continue the original project that Ophuls undertook: to come to terms with the implications of the science of ecology and the environmental degradation that had gained public and political attention in the 1960s and 1970s.  I’m not aware of any other work that so directly addresses the political implications of adopting an ecological mode of thinking and our need to confront our environmental sins.  Ophuls comes to the project with a doctorate in political science from Yale, but he’s done his homework in the science of ecology as well.

The first part of the book addresses the premises of ecological thinking and the current state of our environment.  As Ophuls himself notes in his Afterward to this updated edition, facts and circumstances have both changed and not changed. However, the fundamental dilemmas remain virtually unaltered since 1977 (when his work was first published) and even since the “revisit” of 1992. I  believe that in the 27 years since the publication of this book—although the particulars have changed—the fundamental dilemmas remain and have become starkly apparent.  One benefit of reading Ophuls’s book is that it takes my mind off of the increasingly frightening realities of climate change. It forces me to appreciate that we face a host of other environmental dilemmas that include pressing issues of scarcity and pollution.  And when one thinks systematically about these issues, the number of challenges that we continue to face—no doubt even more compelling than in 1992--leaves me with a sense of foreboding.  Ophuls never glosses over problems or provides comforting bromides or easy solutions.

So the first part of the book remains useful, although particulars are different today than in 1992.  The second part of the book addresses the political implications of ecological scarcity. The political analysis and vision that Ophuls provides are the hallmarks of his work, and these insights make the price of admission (time and money) well worth the expenditure. This book and Requiem for Modern Politics (1997)  provide insights that his later works, Plato’sRevenge (2011), Immoderate Greatness (2012), and Sane Polity (2013), and Apologies to the Grandchildren (2018) don’t address as thoroughly, such as the realities of American politics. The later works explore the need and the possibilities of a new political order, while Ecology and the Politics of Scarcity spends more time on current political realities. (Sadly, those realities remain as real now as they did then—albeit in worse shape.) Thus, even as many of the factual particulars at the beginning of the book are dated, the book is worth reading to receive the benefit of Ophuls’s understanding of American politics and the degree to which our politics depends on an economy of abundance and growth.  As we move toward the 2020 election cycle, we can see that the underlying premise of American political life hasn’t changed, although it is badly frayed by new realities. Candidates must talk about economic growth and expansion—it’s a much easier and comforting sell then talking about the stark realities of climate change and environmental degradation. But if the economic pie can no longer expand (and will likely shrink), what will happen to American politics?  Even vexing national issues, like the role of labor unions, civil rights, and women’s rights were resolved (in some measure) via a tacit understanding that the national economic pie would expand. This frame allowed more groups into the American dream of material abundance without impinging significantly upon those who already hold wealth and power.  But as the decline of the white working-class has continued, we see the politics of fear and desperation coming to the forefront. How can we channel our whole enterprise in a completely new direction?

 In this early work, Ophuls provides the first draft of an alternative politics that he believes the realities of ecological scarcity and limits will impose upon us.  And as we see in his later works, Ophuls draws much of his inspiration and insight from some of the great names in the Western political tradition: Plato, Hobbes, Rousseau, and Burke, and from the American tradition, Jefferson and Thoreau. (He also draws, although to a lesser extent, on the Asian traditions.)  From his references to these thinkers and others, we readily discern that Ophuls’s thinking defies any current popular categories of political thought.  He is at once conservative, liberal, reactionary, and anarchist if one would attempt to classify him. Ophuls’s project is not so much about new political institutions as the need for a whole new political culture and consciousness.  Ophuls uses that Gospel term, “metanoia,” which indicates a change—or conversion—of the heart-mind of a person; to wit, a complete reorientation of values.  Ophuls argues that our entire culture needs to undergo a metanoia that will involve a  new way of experiencing the world ( ecological) and a new way of acting in the world that will replace the dominant paradigms of modernity, including those of upon which our economy and our politics currently operate.  

This new (best case) political order will call upon ways of decision-making that will realize Rousseau’s “the general will” as opposed to “the will of all.” I've been exposed to writers (such as Robert Nisbet) who attribute Rousseau’s “general will” and his injunction that men must be “forced to be free” as the root of hideous modern tyrannies. Thus, these references caused me to pause. But Ophuls never posits a position on the assumption that we humans will become angels--although we’d find ourselves much better off if we learned to curb our appetites. Ophuls’s position, following Rousseau, addresses fundamental issues of game theory that any collective undertaking must resolve to reach some level of success. Given the extreme anti-“collectivist” feeling in the U.S. (and the attendant immiseration of public goods and services that we experience), we realize what a long way we will have to go if we are to achieve the best-case scenario that Ophuls promotes.

For me, going back into this first effort by Ophuls to bring the issues of ecological thinking and environmental realities was well worth the time and effort. It’s not comforting—little that Ophuls writes is reassuring—but it’s good to know the enemy. And through reading Ophuls, we have met the enemy. And it is us.

Collingwood on Spinoza

Words of R.G. Collingwood to contemplate:

'The maxim of Spinoza is neither to condemn nor to deride the feelings and actions of men, but to understand them. It might seem a truism that this rule must be obeyed by all students of human custom and belief; but that is not so. many people who claim to be students of human nature think that by condemning others they are proving their own superior virtue, and in deriding them their own superior wisdom; or rather, they do not think about it at all, but act as if they thought thus, because of a devil inside them that can only be appeased by this self-glorification at the expense of others. Here the professed study of human nature is simply a pretense for gratifying odium humani generis [hatred of the human race]. . . . These rules, so far as they are rules of scientific method, are not mere rules of manners or morals; they are indispensable means to arriving at the truth. . . . [T]he adoption of Spinoza's maxim is not only a point of scientific method, it is a moral discipline for the whole man, for the whole of our civilization. We must learn to face the savage* within us if we are to understand the savage outside us. The savage within us must be not be stamped down out of sight. He too, by the same Spinozistic rule, must be neither be condemned nor derided, but understood. Just as the savages around us, when thus understand, cease to appear as savages and become human beings, courteous and friendly and honourable and worthy of admiration for their virtues and of love for their humanity, so the savage within us, on the same terms, will become no longer a thing of horror but a friend and helper: no savage, but the heart and root of our own civilization."

Spinoza: 'I have striven not to laugh at human actions, not to weep at them, not to hate them, but to understand them.' TRACTATUS THEOLOGICO-POLITICUS (1670).

R. G. Collingwood, THE PHILOSOPHY OF ENCHANTMENT: STUDIES IN FOLKTALES, CULTURAL CRITICISM, & ANTHROPOLOGY, (ed. by Boucher, James, & Smallwood), pp. 184, 185, 186.

*Earlier in his text, Collingwood had derided the use of terms such as "savages,", "primitives," and the like by social scientists as condescending and misleading. Thus, in the current context, Collingwood's use of the term "savage" should be read as an ironic turn that disarms its malignant use by applying it to himself, his contemporaries, and to those whom he would ascribe its misuse.