Compare Thomas DiLorenzo’s Lincoln with Putin

ChatGPT said:

Comparing Thomas DiLorenzo’s depiction of Abraham Lincoln to contemporary figures like Vladimir Putin involves analyzing how DiLorenzo critiques Lincoln’s actions, particularly regarding centralized power and authoritarian tendencies, and examining whether those critiques apply to Putin’s governance. Below is a detailed comparison:


Centralization of Power

  • Lincoln (as per DiLorenzo): DiLorenzo criticizes Lincoln for allegedly undermining federalism by centralizing power in the federal government during the Civil War. He portrays Lincoln as prioritizing national unity over states’ rights, sometimes through coercive measures like suspending habeas corpus and curbing press freedoms.
  • Putin: Putin has systematically centralized power in Russia, weakening regional autonomy and consolidating control in the Kremlin. Measures include restructuring federal districts, appointing governors, and restricting local governance.

Similarity: Both are seen as centralizers, though Lincoln’s actions were in the context of preserving a democratic union, while Putin’s consolidation is tied to an authoritarian framework.


Treatment of Dissent

  • Lincoln: DiLorenzo emphasizes Lincoln’s suppression of dissent, such as the imprisonment of political opponents and journalists, as evidence of authoritarianism.
  • Putin: Putin is widely criticized for suppressing dissent through imprisonment of opposition figures, censorship, and media control. His approach is far more systematic and enduring compared to Lincoln’s wartime actions.

Difference: While Lincoln’s measures were extraordinary and time-bound (wartime emergency), Putin’s repression is a structural feature of his regime.


War and Justification

  • Lincoln: DiLorenzo views Lincoln’s justification for the Civil War—preserving the Union—as questionable, arguing it masked economic motivations and federal overreach.
  • Putin: Putin justifies wars (e.g., in Ukraine) as protecting Russian sovereignty, security, or cultural identity. Critics argue these are pretexts for territorial expansion and imperial ambitions.

Similarity: Both leaders used war to assert national objectives, but Lincoln’s war was defensive (against secession), while Putin’s wars are often viewed as offensive.


Economic Policies

  • Lincoln: DiLorenzo criticizes Lincoln for favoring industrialists and implementing policies like high tariffs and national banking, which he sees as benefiting Northern elites at the expense of Southern states.
  • Putin: Putin’s economic policies favor oligarchs loyal to his regime, with state control over key sectors like energy. Economic centralization often serves to bolster his political power.

Similarity: Both are accused of using economic policies to consolidate power, though Lincoln’s policies were framed as modernizing the economy within a democratic system.


Ideological Framework

  • Lincoln: DiLorenzo challenges the narrative of Lincoln as a champion of liberty, arguing his actions were more about power than principle.
  • Putin: Putin positions himself as a defender of Russian traditionalism and sovereignty but is widely seen as prioritizing personal and regime survival over ideological consistency.

Difference: Lincoln’s legacy, even through DiLorenzo’s lens, remains tied to democratic ideals, whereas Putin’s governance is fundamentally autocratic.


Public Image and Legacy

  • Lincoln: Despite DiLorenzo’s critiques, Lincoln is widely revered as a leader who navigated the U.S. through its most challenging crisis, with a lasting legacy of ending slavery and preserving the Union.
  • Putin: Putin’s legacy is contentious; he is admired by some for restoring Russian strength but condemned internationally for authoritarianism and aggression.

Difference: Lincoln’s legacy largely enhances democratic ideals, while Putin’s reinforces authoritarianism.


Conclusion: While there are parallels in centralizing power and justifying contentious actions, the context and nature of their governance differ significantly. DiLorenzo’s critique of Lincoln frames him as authoritarian within a democratic system, whereas Putin’s actions align with classic authoritarianism.

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O

It seems that Chyzhevsky’s national philosophy is identical to a dominant Weltanschauung. But to identify a Weltanschauung with philosophy — the Romantic view, is inconsistent with a Rationalistiv view which considers philosophy a critic of Weltanschauungen.

ChatGPT said:

Yes, you are correct to highlight that Chyzhevsky’s Romantic view of national philosophy opposes the idea that philosophy is primarily a critical examination of views, which is a more analytic or rationalistic approach.

Let’s unpack the issue further:

Chyzhevsky’s Romantic View vs. Critical Philosophy

Chyzhevsky advocates for a Romantic view of national philosophy, which sees philosophy as the self-consciousness of a culture. In this view, national philosophy is not primarily about critically examining or questioning established views (which is typically how philosophy is defined in many traditions, particularly in the analytic tradition), but rather about articulating and reflecting on the culture’s existing values, ideas, and Weltanschauung (worldview).

  • In this view, philosophy is seen more as expressive and revelatory of national identity and consciousness rather than as a critical or analytical activity that seeks to test or critique the validity of beliefs or systems of thought.
  • The Romantic view emphasizes that the diversity of national philosophies is valuable because each one contributes a unique perspective on the absolute. This leads to a form of philosophical relativism or pluralism, where no one philosophy is seen as universally superior but each national philosophy reveals a part of the whole, the absolute truth.

The Critical Tradition of Philosophy

On the other hand, the view that philosophy is a critical examination of views (often associated with the rationalistic or analytic traditions) holds that the primary role of philosophy is to critically assess and challenge ideas, aiming to uncover universal truths or objective standards. In this tradition:

  • Philosophy is seen as a discipline of reasoning, focused on logical analysis, critique, and the evaluation of beliefs, whether they come from popular worldviews, scientific theories, or even other philosophical traditions.
  • The idea of philosophy as a critical investigation of worldviews is about testing ideas, exploring their internal coherence, their logical implications, and their correspondence with reality. It assumes that not all worldviews or philosophical systems are equally valid or true. Some ideas must be rejected or revised through rigorous questioning and examination.

The Tension Between the Two Views

Chyzhevsky’s Romantic view appears to reject this critical perspective. If philosophy is seen as a reflection of the national consciousness and as a manifestation of a culture’s worldview, it might be less about critical examination and more about expressing the values and ideas already deeply embedded in the culture.

This approach suggests that the purpose of philosophy is not to critique the dominant worldview of a culture but rather to affirm it and make it self-conscious, providing a systematic reflection of the worldview, values, and ideals of a nation. In this sense, national philosophy serves as a revelation of the truths inherent in the culture, not a critique of them.

Conflict and Inconsistency

The key inconsistency in Chyzhevsky’s approach comes when he later suggests that certain national philosophies advance world philosophy or bring new insights into the absolute. This idea is more in line with the critical view of philosophy, which seeks to assess the progress and value of ideas in a larger, global context. It implies that some national philosophies move forward the development of thought by critically engaging with and refining earlier ideas, while others may simply repeat or re-affirm existing traditions.

  • This is contradictory because if national philosophy is simply a reflection of national self-consciousness, it should be seen as equally valid across all cultures, without any nation playing a superior or more advanced role in the progression of world philosophy. The idea that some national philosophies advance world philosophy implies a critical approach to the value of different philosophies, which conflicts with the Romantic view of philosophy as a mere expression of cultural consciousness.

Conclusion

In summary, Chyzhevsky’s Romantic view of national philosophy directly opposes the critical examination model of philosophy, which is rooted in the analytic or rationalistic traditions. Chyzhevsky’s view treats philosophy as reflective of a national culture, not as an activity that questions, critiques, or systematically evaluates beliefs. This creates a tension when he also suggests that some national philosophies are more significant than others in advancing world philosophy, as this would imply a critical, evaluative stance that the Romantic view would typically reject.

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You said:

ChatGPT said:

ChatGPT

You’re absolutely right. The distinction you’re making between the Romantic view and the Rationalist view highlights an important philosophical tension. Let me clarify and elaborate on the issue.

Romantic View and Weltanschauung

In the Romantic view of national philosophy (as Chyzhevsky seems to endorse), national philosophy is seen as a reflection of a nation’s Weltanschauung (worldview). In this view, philosophy is not primarily concerned with critiquing or evaluating existing ideas but with expressing and affirming the cultural identity and worldview of a nation.

  • Philosophy, in this sense, is understood as the self-consciousness of a national culture. It articulates and deepens the cultural values, beliefs, and principles that are already deeply embedded in the nation’s traditions, customs, and practices.
  • Weltanschauung, in this context, refers to the broader, lived worldview of a nation—the sum of its cultural, social, moral, religious, and philosophical beliefs that shape how people understand the world. The national philosophy in the Romantic view is merely a philosophical articulation or reflection of this worldview. It does not critically engage with these ideas but affirms them and helps the nation become self-aware of its own cultural identity.

Thus, in the Romantic view, national philosophy and the dominant Weltanschauung of a nation are essentially the same thing. Philosophy, as a discipline, becomes a means of reflecting the cultural identity rather than evaluating or challenging it.

Rationalist View and Critique of Weltanschauung

In contrast, the Rationalist view (which is closely associated with analytic philosophy) sees philosophy as fundamentally a critical activity. According to this view:

  • Philosophy is about the critical examination of the ideas, beliefs, and worldviews that societies hold. The philosopher’s task is to analyze, evaluate, and critique the assumptions and frameworks of any given Weltanschauung.
  • The Rationalist or analytic philosopher does not accept a worldview simply because it is the dominant or traditional worldview of a given culture. Instead, the goal is to subject all beliefs—whether cultural, moral, or philosophical—to rigorous scrutiny, and to determine their truth, coherence, and logical consistency. Philosophy, in this sense, is a tool for critique, and it challenges the existing ideas that form a nation’s worldview.

In the Rationalist tradition, the task of philosophy is not to reflect the existing worldview of a nation but to question and refine it. This makes the critical examination of Weltanschauung central to the practice of philosophy.

The Tension Between the Views

The inconsistency you point out arises when one tries to reconcile these two views. On the one hand:

  • The Romantic view treats national philosophy as a reflection of the dominant cultural worldview, essentially equating philosophy with a nation’s Weltanschauung. In this view, national philosophy is simply an affirmation of what the nation already believes about reality, morality, beauty, justice, and so on.
  • On the other hand, the Rationalist view treats philosophy as a critical investigation of a given worldview. In this view, philosophy’s primary role is to evaluate and question the assumptions that underlie the nation’s cultural and philosophical beliefs. It is not simply about affirming what is already believed but about challenging and refining the national worldview through logical reasoning and empirical evidence.

Thus, to equate national philosophy with the dominant Weltanschauung, as the Romantic view does, directly contradicts the Rationalist view, which sees philosophy as a critique of Weltanschauung. If national philosophy is just a reflection of national beliefs, then it is not playing the critical, evaluative role that the Rationalist tradition assigns to philosophy.

Reconciling the Views

To reconcile these two positions (the Romantic and Rationalist views), one could argue that philosophy might indeed reflect a nation’s worldview but also perform a critical function. For instance:

  1. Philosophy as Both Reflection and Critique: One could propose that national philosophy, while reflecting the dominant Weltanschauung, should also engage critically with it. In this way, national philosophers might start by articulating and affirming the national worldview, but they should also evaluate its strengths and weaknesses, offering critical reflections and alternative perspectives. This would allow philosophy to both reflect the culture and also critique it, making it an evolving, dynamic force in shaping cultural identity.
  2. Philosophy’s Role in Cultural Development: Another way to reconcile the views is by seeing philosophy as evolving alongside the broader culture. Initially, philosophy may reflect a culture’s existing Weltanschauung, but as the culture matures, philosophy could begin to critically engage with that worldview, challenging its assumptions and refining its ideas. In this way, philosophy moves from being merely reflective to becoming critical and transformative over time.

Conclusion

In sum, the Romantic view equates national philosophy with the dominant Weltanschauung, making philosophy primarily about reflecting and articulating the national identity and worldview. In contrast, the Rationalist view sees philosophy as a critical examination of Weltanschauung, questioning and evaluating the ideas that a culture holds. The inconsistency arises when one attempts to reconcile these two views, as the Romantic view seems to deny philosophy’s critical role. To resolve this, one might argue that philosophy is not only a reflection of a culture’s worldview but also a critical force that refines and evolves that worldview over time.

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Chyzhevsky as a Historian of Ukrainian Philosophy

Chyzhevsky as a Historian of Ukrainian Philosophy

Taras Zakydalsky


A paper presented at a conference at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champagne, 2003.


Dmytro Chyzhevsky is quite rightly recognized as the founder of the history of Ukrainian philosophy.1 Not only did he produce the first more or less comprehensive survey of Ukrainian philosophy, 2 which he supplemented with numerous articles on Ukrainian thinkers, such as Ivan Vyshensky, Hryhorii Skovoroda, Panteleimon Kulish, Taras Shevchenko, Mykola Hohol, and Viacheslav Lypynsky, and on the influence of foreign ideas in Ukraine, 3 as well as a book on Hryhorii Skovoroda, 4 he also laid out the theoretical framework and methodological requirements of the field. No one was more acutely aware of the shortcomings of his pioneering work in the history of Ukrainian philosophy than Chyzhevsky himself. In the preface to Narysy z istorii filosofii na Ukraini (Essays in the History of Philosophy in Ukraine), he remarked, “I should also point out that this work is a fruit of my leisure time, that the history of philosophy in Ukraine is not the principal subject of my studies, and therefore that the material I present cannot be taken as the culmination and completion of scholarly research in this field; rather it is an attempt to arouse interest in and draw attention to this field of research, which so far has been avoided in Ukrainian studies.” 5 In my assessment of Chyzhevsky’s work in the field I concentrate on what in my opinion are his main contributions and point out their strengths and weaknesses. A much more comprehensive and detailed account of Chyzhevsky’s work in the history of Ukrainian philosophy can be found in Iryna Valiavko’s recent candidate dissertation. 6

The Concept of National Philosophy

Chyzhevsky begins his surveys with some brief methodological remarks about the purpose and scope of a history of the philosophy produced by a given nation. He distinguishes two views of philosophy and the corresponding types of history associated with them. According to what he calls the “rationalistic” view, philosophy is a science that discovers universal truths about the nature of reality, truth, justice, beauty, etc. Since there can be only one true answer to every question, a plurality of answers is indicative of falsehood. Insofar as national philosophies are distinguished by differing ideas on the same issues they are false and hence undeserving of serious study by the historian. 7 Chyzhevsky calls the other view of philosophy “Romantic” and associates it with Hegel. On this view differences among philosophical doctrines have a positive value. How can that be so? If absolute ideals can be realized only in the limited particular forms (science, religion, morality, law, religion, etc.) of a national culture, and the differences among national cultures manifest different aspects of the absolute, then these differences are important and valuable. Together they constitute a fuller, although never the full, manifestation of the absolute. Viewed from this perspective, philosophy is the self-consciousness of a given culture: it brings out what is distinctive and interesting in a nation’s beliefs about reality, justice, and beauty, and in doing so makes the nation aware of itself as a distinct entity; that is, gives rise to national consciousness. Here philosophy is essentially national, and all national philosophies, insofar as they are partial reflections of the absolute, are true. 8 It follows that all cultures and their corresponding philosophies are equal. Obviously, this is the view of philosophy that Chyzhevsky favors for it gives maximal weight to national philosophies and their histories.

But then, surprisingly enough, Chyzhevsky goes on to say that at different stages in the development of world philosophy different nations play the leading role in carrying the process forward. 9 This implies that only the philosophy of some nations reveals something new and valuable about the absolute, while the philosophy of other nations fails to do so and has no world-historical significance. Furthermore, according to Chyzhevsky, it is only when a nation produces a philosophy that marks a significant forward step in world philosophy that that nation fully discloses the distinctive character of its own culture and philosophy. 10 Clearly, these two propositions are inconsistent with the Romantic account of national culture and philosophy.

The inconsistency can be easily removed by renouncing these two propositions and preserving the pluralistic conception of culture and philosophy. An essentially similar conception has been elaborated by a leading contemporary historian of Ukrainian philosophy, Vilen Horsky, into what he calls the “culturological approach to the history of philosophy.” 11 On this approach philosophy is an integral part of culture. As a reflection on the possibilities of individual and collective existence, it can be described as the self-consciousness of a national culture. 12

This conception of the history of philosophy gives rise to two sets of criteria that define the scope of Ukrainian philosophy: first, the criteria for Ukrainian and secondly, the criteria for philosophy. For politically independent nations with a long and continuous cultural tradition and a permanent territory the contours of their culture are quite distinct and the various criteria we use to assign a thinker to a given culture usually coincide and reinforce one another. A French philosopher is normally French-born and raised in the French culture, works in France and uses French in everyday and professional life, and identifies himself as a Frenchman. But often this is not the case with Ukrainian thinkers. Because of Ukraine’s long-lasting colonial status within the Russian and Austrian empires her educated classes have often identified themselves with the ruling culture, and Ukrainian has rarely served as the language of learning. Hence national consciousness and language are not necessary conditions for being counted as a Ukrainian thinker.  Sometimes, however, they are sufficient conditions. On the other hand, place of birth, upbringing, or work are neither necessary nor sufficient conditions, for some Ukrainians have been born, educated, or employed outside Ukraine, while non-Ukrainians have worked in Ukraine and have had very little contact with Ukrainian culture. What is decisive, according to Chyzhevsky, is a thinker’s relation to the Ukrainian philosophical tradition and in the last analysis to Ukrainian culture. 13 The problem is to identify this tradition and culture in a logically non-circular way.

This is a problem Chyzhevsky did not consider. To avoid a logical circle, traditions, whether philosophical or cultural, must be identified not by their properties, but by the place (territory) and the time (period) in which they originate or exist. To speak of a national tradition or culture there must be at least a period in a people’s history when it freely created its culture and institutions and these must endure in some way as the touchstone of national identity. Memory may suffice to maintain historical continuity and a sense of national identity over gaps in the independent life of a nation. In Ukraine’s history periods of cultural autonomy and creativity sometimes outlasted periods of political independence and it is the former that are crucial for determining the national affiliation of intellectual traditions.

Chyzhevsky is certainly aware of the importance of intellectual traditions for determining the Ukrainianness of various thinkers. 14 A few of Chyzhevsky’s brief comments give the impression that likenesses in the content or the form of thought are sufficient to establish the existence of a tradition. I do not think that they are: to show that a tradition exists we must establish actual influence and to do this it is necessary to establish not only similarities in ideas or patterns of thinking but also causal links.

Chyzhevsky’s concept of national philosophy implies quite generous criteria for philosophy. Without explicitly formulating the conditions for counting a thinker as a philosopher and a work as philosophical, Chyzhevsky includes in his surveys of Ukrainian philosophy not only academic philosophers and philosophical treatises but also writers such as Mykola Hohol, Panteleimon Kulish, and Taras Shevchenko and scientists such as Oleksander Potebnia and Bohdan Kistiakivsky. He has been taken to task for this by Andrii Khrutsky (Andrew Chrucky) who argues for a narrower criterion of philosophy as the “critical investigation of worldviews” and a stricter selection process. 15 Khrutsky’s argument has found little sympathy among historians of Ukrainian philosophy and for good reason. His criterion would not only reduce the field of philosophy to a few academic thinkers, it would also practically ignore, contrary to the culturological approach to national philosophy, the influence of philosophical ideas in Ukrainian culture. To bring out fully the role of philosophical ideas in a given culture the historian must consider not only the texts of professional philosophers but also various literary and scientific texts reflecting popular worldviews and containing philosophical ideas. He should also take into account various attempts to define the distinctive features of the national worldview or character, which have the effect of raising national consciousness. 16 This broad and rather complex criterion captures the range of texts and thinkers discussed by Chyzhevsky in his surveys of Ukrainian philosophy and by later specialists in the field.

Philosophy of the Heart

Chyzhevsky is the source of the often repeated and, in my estimate, meaningless claim that “‘the philosophy of the heart’ … is characteristic of Ukrainian thought.” 17 In making this claim he immediately explained that “the philosophy of the heart” stands for three distinct theses:

  1. that emotions have not only ethical and religious but also cognitive significance,
  2. that conscious experience arises from a deeper source, a mysterious “abyss,” and
  3. that man is a microcosm.

One or another of these theses has been held, as he indicates, by Kyrylo Tranquillion-Stavrovetsky, Paisii Velychkovsky, Hryhorii Skovoroda, Semen Hamaliia, Mykola Hohol, Panteleimon Kulish, and Pamfil Iurkevych, but only Hohol seems to have held all held all three theses. 18 Even if Chyzhevsky were to assert that these thinkers are somehow “representative” of Ukrainian philosophy, it would not be clear how any one or all three theses are characteristic of Ukrainian thought. Chyzhevsky can hardly claim that any one (let alone all three) of these theses was first proposed by a Ukrainian thinker or is accepted by all Ukrainian thinkers. It is not the case that the three theses are logically connected or that the seven thinkers mentioned in this context constitute a school or tradition of thought. In fact they were very different in their world outlook and in their philosophical interests. They used the common word “heart” not as a concept, but as a symbol for very different things. Thus I cannot imagine what Chyzhevsky might have meant by “characteristic” here, and he made no attempt to explain what he meant. 19

There have been some recent attempts to defend Chyzhevsky against my criticisms of his claim about the philosophy of the heart, 20 which in my opinion have not been successful. Mykhailo Skrynnyk argued that Skovoroda, Iurkevych, Hohol, and Kulish share the view that there is something deeper in man than reason, and therefore they constitute a tradition of thought. 21 But agreement on a very general and vague point such as this is not enough for a tradition. The fact is that the four mentioned thinkers were very different in their worldviews and intellectual interests. But even if they did represent a single tradition why would that tradition be more characteristic of Ukrainian philosophy than some other one? 

Another of my critics, Iryna Valiavko, admits (1) that no one theory or trend can be representative of the thought of a nation and (2) that there is nothing distinctively Ukrainian about the first and second theses into which Chyzhevsky breaks down the philosophy of the heart. According to her, only the third thesis on man as a microcosm is characteristic of Ukrainian thought, and she tries to show that, although it is not found in Iurkevych, this conception of man is found in Skovoroda, Kulish, Taras Shevchenko, Mykola Kostomarov, Lesia Ukrainka, Mykhailo Kotsiubynsky, Bohdan Ihor Antonych, Oleksander Dovzhenko, and Pavlo Tychyna. 22

There are several fatal flaws in her argument. First, she reduces the idea of microcosm to the distinction between “inner” and “outer” man or between soul and body. Although historically the conception of man as microcosm has been closely associated with the dualistic conception of man, it is not logically equivalent to or logically connected with the latter. There is no hint in Chyzhevsky that what he really meant by microcosm was dualism. Secondly, the idea of two natures or substances in man is almost universal. Even the language of “inner” or “internal” and “outer” or “external” man is widespread. Chyzhevsky points out that these very terms can be found in the Bible and in the works of ancient and Christian thinkers such as Philo Judaeus, Clement of Alexandria, Gregory of Nyssa, Macarius of Egypt, Anthony of the Desert, Meister Eckhart, Jakob Boehme, Sebastian Frank, Angelus Silesius, Heinrich Suso, Johannes Tauler, and Thomas á Kempis. 23 Many more names could be added to the list. Obviously, the language and the ideas behind it did not originate with 24 and are not unique to Ukrainian thinkers and writers. Furthermore, the dualistic terminology that is used in describing man is part of ordinary language. Hence, the fact that some writers use this terminology does not indicate that they have the same or even any definite philosophical conception of man in mind. 

Philosophy at the Kyiv-Mohyla Academy

In one area of the history of Ukrainian philosophy—the development of philosophy in Ukraine in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries—Chyzhevsky’s views were well ahead of his time. While Ukrainian scholars, such as Mykhailo Hrushevsky, Ivan Franko, and MykhailoVozniak believed that the philosophy taught at the Kyiv-Mohyla Academy was an obsolete and lifeless scholasticism, Chyzhevsky asserted that, on the contrary, in the seventeenth century this was an up-to-date, intellectually vibrant neoscholasticism and in the eighteenth century the professors of the academy were familiar with modern European thought. 25 Furthermore, he argued that the philosophy cultivated at the academy was not remote from the cultural life of the time but an important part of the distinctive Baroque culture that flourished in Ukraine. Philosophy was involved in the religious polemics of the time and the defense of the Orthodox faith, which in turn was closely associated with national consciousness. Since in his time the manuscripts of the academy’s courses had not been studied yet and Chyzhevsky himself lacked access to them, he did not have the empirical data for a fuller, more detailed account of the academy’s philosophical tradition, but the account he did give has been largely confirmed by later researchers. 26 Since the 1960s this area of the history of Ukrainian philosophy has been the most exciting and rapidly developing branch of philosophical research in Ukraine.

Skovoroda

Skovoroda was Chyzhevsky’s favorite Ukrainian philosopher. The works he devoted to Skovoroda outnumber by far his writings on any other philosopher: a monograph and over twenty articles. His works are an almost inexhaustible mine of information and interesting observations, but the overall result of all his efforts is rather disappointing. After a lengthy (200-page) and detailed comparison of Skovoroda’s philosophical doctrines, terminology, symbols, images, and phrases with those of several German mystics (Franz von Baader, Boehme, Meister Eckhart, Frank, Silesius, Suso, Tauler, and Valentin Weigel), Chyzhevsky reaches the conclusion that Skovoroda is a mystic, or to be more exact, that Skovoroda’s philosophical system has all the constituents of a “mystical philosophical system:” 27 it rests on a dualistic metaphysics and includes a doctrine of opposites, a metaphysical interpretation of symbols, a typically mystical anthropology and ethics. Chyzhevsky cautions us that, although Skovoroda’s philosophy is mystical, we cannot be certain that Skovoroda himself was a mystic, for we have no solid evidence of Skovoroda’s mystical experiences. 28 After analyzing Skovoroda’s ideas and biographical data, Chyzhevsky concludes: “Although there may be a shadow of doubt about Skovoroda’s own mystical experience, there can be no doubt about the mystical character of his philosophy!” 29 I have no objection to the first part of the conclusion, but I do have some reservations about the second part. First of all, in what sense is Skovoroda’s philosophy mystical?

I would claim that it is mystical only in a weak sense; that is, it is a version of Neoplatonism, a type of system that is typical of mystics but also often embraced by religious thinkers who are not mystics. Chyzhevsky admits as much when he says that “Skovoroda’s ‘methodology’ and ‘metaphysics’ have many analogies in mystical and non-mystical thinkers.” 30 To be mystical in the strong sense, his philosophy would have to have not just a dualistic metaphysics and anthropology, but also a special kind of ethics—an ethics that posits mystical experience as the goal of life and outlines the methods or steps for attaining it. Chyzhevsky claims that Skovoroda does have an ethics that shows how the individual can transcend the bounds of his human nature and fuse with God to become divine. 31 In support of his interpretation Chyzhevsky musters an impressive array of expressions in Skovoroda that are typical of mystical writers and suggest mystical experience. 32 And yet I question this interpretation, and I do so for three reasons.

First, as Chyzhevsky himself points out, there is no doctrine of the degrees of the soul’s progress to fusion with God. 33 Secondly, there is no union or fusion with God that involves loss of self. On the contrary, Skovoroda speaks of union with God as a discovery of one’s true self, as a form of self-knowledge. The transfiguration or divinization that one undergoes is a change from one’s superficial or false self to one’s true self, the inner man. Contrary to what Chyzhevsky suggests this kind of union with God is accomplished not through mystical experience but rather through knowledge and reason. It requires not self-denial, self-mortification, and self-renunciation, but self-knowledge and dialogue. Finally, the key to Skovoroda’s ethics lies in his doctrine of congenial work. According to this doctrine the goal of life is happiness, not mystical experience, and the way to happiness lies not in escape from society and the cares of this world but in activity, in self-realization through socially beneficial work. This is not an ethics of escape from either oneself or the world. Hence, there is no room for mystics or even hermits in Skovoroda’s ethics.

            It is rather obvious that Skovoroda’s philosophy is mystical in the weak sense and this requires no great effort to prove. On the other hand, to contend that Skovoroda’s philosophy is mystical in the strong is to give too much weight to his language and to ignore the main thrust of his moral teachings. 34

            It should be clear from this critical outline of Chyzhevsky’s contribution to the history of Ukrainian philosophy that for all his shortcomings it was Chyzhevsky who laid its foundations, which later researchers refined and expanded. Considering the materials available to him and the conditions in which he worked, his single-handed achievement is truly remarkable. During the Soviet period two areas of Ukrainian philosophy received much attention—the philosophical ideas in the culture of Kyivan Rus’ and the development of philosophy in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In the post-Soviet period, while research in these areas continues, historians of Ukrainian philosophy are turning their attention increasingly on the nineteenth century. The framework of the history of Ukrainian philosophy established by Chyzhevsky is being steadily filled in with new facts, texts, and interpretations. 


Notes

1   Vilen Horsky noted that Chyzhevsky’s contributions to the history of Ukrainian philosophy are probably his most important contributions to the history of philosophy and that “he can justifiably be considered to be the founder of the scholarly discipline of the history of Ukrainian philosophy” (“Dmytro Chyzhevsky iak fundator istoryko-filosofskoho ukrainoznavstva,” in Dialoh kultur,  ed. Lesia Dovha (Kyiv: Respublikanska asotsiatsiia ukrainoznavtsiv, 1996), 13, and the late Valeriia Nichyk stated, “Dmytro Chyzhevsky was the first and most noted historian of Ukrainian philosophy, which he studied as a specialist employing the theoretical achievements and methodology of the latest tendencies of world scholarship in the branches of the philosophy and culturology of the Slavic peoples” (“Dmytro Chyzhevsky i novitni doslidzhennia filosofskoi spadshchyny profesoriv Kyievo-Mohylianskoi Akademii,” Ibid., 29).

2 It appeared first as Filosofiia na Ukraini: Sproba istoriografii (Prague: Siiach, 1926; 2d ed. 1928) and then  in a fuller and more popular version as  Narysy z istorii filosofii na Ukraini (Prague: Ukrainskyi hromadskyi vydavnychyi fond, 1931).  The latter was a reconstruction from memory and remaining materials of a lost larger manuscript completed in 1927 (see his preface to Narysy). A third survey appeared as a chapter “Ukrainska filosofiia” in Ukrainska kultura, ed. Dmytro Antonovych (Munich: 1940; 2d ed. Munich: Ukrainskyi tekhnichno-hospodarskyi instytut, 1988), 176–99.

These surveys were preceded by three much slighter unsystematic works about Ukrainian philosophy: (1) Clemens Hankiewicz’s Grundzüge der slavischen Philosophie (Cracow, 1869; 2d ed. Rzeszow, 1873), in which the fifth chapter (pp. 45-68) is titled “Philosophie bei den Ruthenen.” It outlines the Volkesphilosophie (popular worldview) of the Ukrainian people and the ideas of three nineteenth-century Ukrainian thinkers: Petro Lodii (1764–1829), Iosyf Chachkovsky (?), and Ivan Fedorovych (1811–70). This chapter has been translated by Serhii Vakulenko and published in Zbirnyk Kharkivskoho istorychno-filolohichnoho tovarystva. Nova seriia 9 (1998): 153–66. (2) Vasyl Shchurat’s booklet of 32 pages Ukrainski dzherela do istorii filosofii (Lviv, 1908), which was first serialized in the Lviv newspaper Dilo, nos. 59-64, 1908, traced the influence of medieval Neoplatonist sources in old Ukrainian literature from the tenth to the seventeenth century. One section of this booklet, the section on Slovo o polku Ihorevim, is reprinted in Shchurat’s Vybrani pratsi z istorii literatury (Kyiv: AN URSR, 1963), 27–34. (3) Only a few fragments of Mykola Sumtsov’s large manuscript Nacherky ukrainskoi filosofii v 20-ty viddilakh (Outlines of Ukrainian Philosophy in Twenty Chapters) (see D. Bahalii, “Naukova spadshchyna akad. M.F. Sumtsova,” Chervonyi shliakh, 1923, no. 3: 166) were found and published by A. Kovalivsky in Biuleten Muzeiu Slobidskoi Ukrainy im. H. S. Skovorody, 1926–27, nos. 2–3: 51–74. Recently they were reprinted in Zbirnyk Kharkivskoho istoryko-filolohichnoho tovarystava. Nova seriia 7 (1998): 149–82.  They deal only with the some aspects of Skovoroda’s thought: some of its similarities with Marquis de Vovenargue’s (1715–47), Henry Amiel’s (1821–81), Aleksandr Herzen’s (1812–70), and Ernest Renan’s ideas; Vladimir Ern’s unhistorical treatment of Skovoroda; some similar doctrines in Herasym Smotrytsky and Dmitrii of Rostov; and Skovoroda’s views on the Bible and reason. As we can see not one of these studies comes close to a historical survey of Ukrainian philosophy.

3 For example, Skovoroda as a Ukrainian thinker (1929), Skovoroda and German mysticism (1929), on Skovoroda’s philosophy (1929), Skovoroda’s philosophical method (1930), Shevchenko and David Straus (1931),  Lypynsky as a philosopher of history (1932), Kulish and the philosophy of the heart (1933), Skovoroda  and Silesius (1933), Skovoroda and Philo’s theory of knowledge (1933), sources of Skovoroda’s symbols (1933), Skovoroda’s interpretation of the Bible, Fathers of the Church, and mystics (1935), Skovoroda and  Weisel (1935), Shevchenko’s religious beliefs (1936), Western influences in Ukraine from the fifteenth to the eighteenth century (1927), the influence of the Renaissance in Ukraine (1929), Plato in Rus’ (1931), Ivan Vyshensky (1951), Socianism in Ukraine (53), and Schelling’s influence in Ukraine (1956). Chyzhevsky’s works in the history of Ukrainian philosophy are listed in D. Gerhardt’s “Schriftenverzeichnis von D.I. Čyževśkyj (1912-1954),” in Festschrift für Dmytro Čyževśkyj zum 60. Geburstag am 23. März 1954, ed. M. Vasmer (Berlin: Free University of Berlin, 1954), 1–35, and Hans-Jürgen zum Winkel, “Schriftenverzeichnis von D.I. Tschižewśkij (1954–1965),” in Orbis scriptus: Dmitrij Tschižewśkij zum 70. Geburstag, ed. D. Gerhardt, W. Weintraub, and H.-J. zum Winkel (Munich: Wilhelm Fink Verlag, 1966), 35–48.

4 Filosofiia H. S. Skovorody (Warsaw: Ukrainskyi naukovyi instytut, 1934; 2d ed. Kharkiv: Akta, 2003). It appeared in a revised German translation as Skoworoda: Dichter, Denker, Mystiker (Munich: Fink, 1974).

5 P. 4. Henceforth references are to the corrected edition published in Kyiv by Orii in 1992.

6 See Iryna Viktorivna Valiavko, “Dmytro Chyzhevsky iak doslidnyk ukrainskoi filosofskoi dumky” (Candidate diss., Institute of Philosophy of the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine, 1997). Valiavko outlines Chyzhevsky’s interpretation of the Baroque period in Ukraine and of H.S. Skovoroda’s philosophy, summarizes his views on the influence of ancient and of classical German philosophy on Ukraine’s intellectual culture, and attempts to save his thesis about the place of the philosophy of the heart in Ukrainian thought. Her critical evaluation of Chyzhevsky’s ideas is balanced and well grounded. Thanks to her lucid and orderly style of writing the dissertation is a pleasure to read. It has not been published, but it is available on the Internet at < www.library.kr.ua/elib/dissert/valavko.html>

7 Filosofiia na Ukraini (2d ed.), 13; Narysy, 5–6.

8 Filosofiia na Ukraini (2d ed.), 15–16; Narysy, 9–10.

9 Narysy, 11.

10 Filosofiia na Ukraini (2d ed.), 23; Narysy, 13.

11 Vilen Horsky, Istoriia ukrainskoi filosofii: Kurs lektsii (Kyiv: Naukova dumka, 1996), 13.

12 For a concise summary of Horsky’s conception of the history of philosophy, see my review of his book in the Journal of Ukrainian Studies 24, no. 1 (Summer 1999): 114–15.

13 Filosofiia na Ukraini (2d ed.), 24. Later historians have agreed with Chyzhevsky that the criterion that determines who is to count as a Ukrainian thinker has to be complex and flexible. For example, see V. Horsky, “Ukraina v istoryko-filosofskomu vymiri,” Filosofska i sotsiolohichna dumka, 1993, no. 2: 25.

14 For example, he says: “Finally, undoubtedly the narrow path that continues the old tradition, no matter who stands on it — a Ukrainian or a foreigner — deserves the closest attention. Hence, by special interest in the Kyiv Academy, hence my attention to the foreigner Schad around whom, as we see, a group of former students of the Academy formed, for this reason I pay attention to Avsenev, etc.” (Filosofiia na Ukraini [2d ed.], 6).

15 A. Khrutsky, “Komentari do istoriohrafii filosofii v Ukraini Chyzhevskoho,” Suchasnist, 1988, no. 5: 62–3. This is a Ukrainian translation done by Vitalij Keis. The original English version is available on the Internet at <www.ditext.com/chrucky/ukraine.html>.

16 This broad and complex criterion has been proposed by V. Horsky in his “Ukraina v istoryko-filosofskomu vymiri,” Filosofska i sotsiolohichna dumka, 1993, no. 2: 25–7 and Istoriia ukrainskoi filosofii, 20.

17 Chyzhevsky, Narysy, 22; and “Ukrainska filosofiia” in Ukrainska kultura (2d ed.), 197.

18 Chyzhevsky, “Ukrainska filosofiia,” 197.

19 An attempt to make some sense of Chyzhevsky’s claim was made by Mariia Kashuba who suggested that the philosophy of the heart is simply the “introversion,” the concentration on the individual person that is traditional in Ukrainian thought (see her  “Dmytro Chyzhevsky i ‘filosofiia sertsia’ v ukrainskii dukhovnii kulturi,” Dmytro Chyzhevsky: Fundator istoryko-filosofskoho ukrainoznavstva, ed. M. Alchuk, I. Zakhara, and A. Karas [Lviv: Lvivskyi derzhavnyi universytet, 1996], 25).

20 See my “Poniattia sertsia v ukrainskii filosofskii dumtsi,” Filosofska i sotsiolohichna dumka, 1991, no. 8:127–38; and “Doslidy v diaspori nad istorieiu vkrainskoi filosofii,” Filosofska i sotsiolohichna dumka, 1993, no. 4: 95.

21 See his “Dmytro Chyzhevsky ta kulturolohichni vymiry ukrainskoi natsionalnoi filosofii,” Dialoh kultur, 26–7.

22 Iryna Potaieva [Valiavko], “Pro ‘filosofiiu sertsia’ v pratsiakh Dmytra Chyzhevskoho,” Filosofska i sotsiolohichna dumka, 1994, nos. 5–6: 25–8; and idem, “Dmytro Chyzhevsky iak doslidnyk ukrainskoi filosofskoi dumky,” chap. 1, sec. 3.

23 Chyzhevsky, Filosofiia H.S. Skovorody, 107–8.

24 Contrary to what Valiavko suggests: “Skovoroda became the author of a new and original cordocentric philosophy, the essence of which lies in the fact that in viewing man as a ‘microcosm’ he divides man into ‘inner’ and ‘outer'” ( “Pro ‘filosofiiu sertsia’ v pratsiakh Dmytra Chyzhevskoho,” 25).

25 Filosofiia na Ukraini (2d ed.), 56; Narysy, 30–1.

26 See Valeriia Nichyk, “Dmytro Chyzhevsky i novitni doslidzhennia filosofskoi spadshchyny profesoriv Kyievo-Mohylianskoi akademii,” Dialoh kultur, 28–40. For a comprehensive account of Chyzhevsky’s contribution to the study of the intellectual culture of the Ukrainian Baroque, see Iryna Valiavko’s candidate’s dissertation Dmytro Chyzhevsky iak doslidnyk ukrainskoi filosofskoi dumky (Kyiv, 1997), chap. 1, sec. 1.

27 Filosofiia H.S. Skovorody, 181.

28 Ibid., 182. And yet, Chyzhevsky goes on to construct a hypothesis about Skovoroda’s transition through the three stages of mystical experience — purification, illumination, and ecstasy — on the basis of Skovoroda’s brief sketch of a dream in “Son” and his biographer’s description of an experience of rapture at nature’s beauty (p. 183).

29 Ibid., 185.

30 Ibid., 181.

31 Ibid.

32 Skovoroda speaks of seeing God, becoming one with God, being transfigured into God, being the lover and spouse of God, the soul’s second birth, God being born in the soul, drunkenness as ecstasy, and being overpowered by various sensations (ibid., 184–5).

33 Ibid., 136.

34 A fine exposition of Chyzhevsky’s interpretation of Skovoroda’s philosophy as a typical form of mysticism is given by Iryna Valiavko in her Filosofiia Hryhoriia Skovorody v osmyslenni Dmytra Chyzhevskoho (Kyiv: Kyivske bratstvo, 1996), 33–6. The only thing lacking is a critical assessment of Chyzhevsky’s interpretation.

Two Theories of History

Materialistic Theory of History = I eat therefore I exist

Idealistic Theory of History = I think therefore I exist

You said:

What are implications of the following: Two Theories of History

ChatGPT said:

The two statements highlight different philosophical perspectives on the drivers of human history and existence, with distinct implications:


Materialistic Theory of History: “I eat therefore I exist”

  • Focus on Material Needs: This phrase emphasizes the material conditions of human life—such as food, shelter, and economic production—as the fundamental basis of history and society. It aligns with materialist theories like Marxism, which argue that the economic base (means and relations of production) determines the social, political, and cultural superstructure.
  • Implications:
    • Primacy of Survival Needs: Human history is shaped by the struggle to meet basic needs, including food, resources, and economic stability.
    • Historical Development: Societal changes (e.g., revolutions) are often driven by material inequality or changes in productive forces.
    • Reductionism Critique: Critics argue this view may overly reduce human motivations to economic factors, neglecting the role of ideas, culture, and individual agency.

Idealistic Theory of History: “I think therefore I exist”

  • Focus on Ideas and Consciousness: This perspective centers on the role of ideas, values, and human consciousness in shaping history. It echoes René Descartes’ cogito ergo sum (“I think, therefore I am”), suggesting that thought and intellect are foundational to human existence and societal development.
  • Implications:
    • Primacy of Ideas: Societies evolve based on shifts in ideology, religion, philosophy, and culture, rather than primarily on material conditions.
    • Agency and Innovation: Human creativity and intellectual breakthroughs (e.g., scientific discoveries, philosophical paradigms) drive historical progress.
    • Criticism: Materialist critiques argue this perspective can ignore or downplay the material conditions that constrain and shape intellectual developments.

Combined Implications and Tensions

  1. Dialectical Interplay: These theories are not mutually exclusive. Material conditions and ideas often interact dialectically—for example, economic crises can inspire revolutionary ideologies, and transformative ideas can lead to material changes.
  2. Philosophical Divide: The contrast reflects the broader philosophical debate between materialism and idealism, influencing interpretations of history, economics, sociology, and political science.
  3. Practical Applications:
    • A materialist lens might guide policies to address inequality or poverty by improving economic conditions.
    • An idealist lens might emphasize education, ethical reforms, or cultural renewal as solutions to societal problems.

The tension between these views underscores the complexity of human history, where both material needs and intellectual aspirations play crucial roles in shaping the trajectory of civilizations.

4o

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Karl Popper on the Origin of the State

I have always been attracted to the writings of Karl Popper, and I keep returning to him. And I agree with him that long range historical prediction is impossible, and I agree with him that Plato’s program was a conservative one of preserving a totalitarian State, and I agree with him that Marx’s prophecy of how capitalism would develop was a failure.

I have also greatly admired his scholarship. As an example, I reproduce his findings on the origin of the State through conquest — a position with which I agree. However, a fundamental disagreement that I have with Popper is whether the State can be dispensed with. He thinks the State is indispensable and can be justified. I disagree on both counts. But I leave this issue for another occasion.


Karl Popper, The Open Society and Its Enemies, Chapter 4: footnote 43:

Plato’s remarkable theory that the state, i.e. centralized and organized political power, originates through a conquest (the subjugation of a sedentary agricultural population by nomads or hunters) was, as far as I know, first re-discovered (if we discount some remarks by Machiavelli) by Hume in his criticism of the historical version of the contract theory (cp. his Political Discourses, 1752, the chapter Of the Original Contract): — ‘Almost all the governments’, Hume writes, ‘which exist at present, or of which there remains any record in history, have been founded originally on usurpation or conquest, or both . . .’ The theory was next revived by Renan, in What is a Nation? (1882), and by Nietzsche in his Genealogy of Morals (1887); see the third German edition of 1894, p. 98. The latter writes of the origin of the ‘state’: ‘Some horde of blonde beasts, a conquering master race with a war-like organization . . lay their terrifying paws heavily upon a population which is perhaps immensely superior in — numbers. . . This is the way in which the “state” originates upon earth; I think that the sentimentality which lets it originate with a “contract”, is dead.’ This theory appeals to Nietzsche because he likes these blonde beasts. But it has been also more recently proffered by F. Oppenheimer (The State, transl. Gitterman, 1914, p. 68); by a Marxist, K. Kautsky (in his book on The Materialist Interpretation of History); and by W. G. Macleod (The Origin and History of Politics, 1931). I think it very likely that something of the kind described by Plato, Hume, and Nietzsche has happened in many, if not in all, cases. I am speaking only about ‘states’ in the sense of organized and even centralized political power.

I may mention that Toynbee has a very different theory. But before discussing it, I wish first to make it clear that from the anti-historicist point of view, the question is of no great importance. It is perhaps interesting in itself to consider how ‘states’ originated, but it has no bearing whatever upon the sociology of states, as I understand it, i.e. upon political technology (see chapters 3, 9, and 25).

Toynbee’s theory does not confine itself to ‘states’ in the sense of organized and centralized political power. He discusses, rather, the ‘origin of civilizations’. But here begins the difficulty ; for what he calls ‘civilizations’ are, in part, ‘states’ (as here described), in part societies like that of the Eskimos, which are not states; and if it is questionable whether ‘states’ originate according to one single scheme, then it must be even more doubtful when we consider a class of such diverse social phenomena as the early Egyptian and Mesopotamian states and their institutions and technique on the one side, and the Eskimo way of living on the other.

But we may concentrate on Toynbee’s description (A Study of History, vol. I, 305 ff.) of the origin of the Egyptian and Mesopotamian ‘civilizations’. His theory is that the challenge of a difficult jungle environment rouses a response from ingenious and enterprising leaders; they lead their followers into the valleys which they begin to cultivate, and found states. This (Hegelian and Bergsonian) theory of the creative genius as a cultural and political leader appears to me most romantic. If we take Egypt, then we must look, first of all, for the origin of the caste system. This, I believe, is most likely the result of conquests, just as in India where every new wave of conquerors imposed a new caste upon the old ones. But there are other arguments. Toynbee himself favours a theory which is probably correct, namely, that animal breeding and especially animal training is a later, a more advanced and a more difficult stage of development than mere agriculture, and that this advanced step is taken by the nomads of the steppe. But in Egypt we find both agriculture and animal breeding, and the same holds for most of the early ‘states’ (though not for all the American ones, I gather). This seems to be a sign that these states contain a nomadic element; and it seems only natural to venture the hypothesis that this element is due to nomad invaders imposing their rule, a caste rule, upon the original agricultural population. This theory disagrees with Toynbee’s contention (op. cit. III, 23 f.) that nomad-built states usually wither away very quickly. But the fact that many of the early caste states go in for the breeding of animals has to be explained somehow.

The idea that nomads or even hunters constituted the original upper class is corroborated by the age-old and still surviving upper-class traditions according to which war, hunting, and horses, are the symbols of the leisured classes; a tradition which formed the basis of Aristotle’s ethics and politics, and is still alive, as Veblen (The Theory of the Leisure Class) and Toynbee himself have shown; and to these traditions we can perhaps add the animal breeder’s belief in racialism, and especially in the racial superiority of the upper class. The latter belief which is so pronounced in caste states and in Plato and in Aristotle is held by Toynbee to be ‘one of the . . sins of our . . modern age’ and ‘something alien from the Hellenic genius’ (op. cit., III, 93). But although many Greeks may have developed beyond racialism, it seems likely that Plato’s and Aristotle’s theories are based on old traditions; especially in view of the fact that racial ideas played such a role in Sparta.

A Commentary on Howard Zinn’s “A People’s History of the United States”

Many years ago when I came across the first edition of Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States (1980), I was so amazed by its perspective and scholarship that I wrote to Zinn, and asked permission to put it on the Internet. He replied by simply referring me to his publisher. Well, not getting an outright refusal, I digitized the book and placed it on the Internet, and there it stayed until Zinn died in 2010. [I looked for the book on my site in the WaybackMachine, and I found it for Feb. 17, 2006]. Soon after Zinn’s death, I received an email from his publisher pointing out that the book was copyrighted and was requested to remove it from the Internet. I did. But by that time someone in China had placed my pages on their own web site. Well, whatever is going on with the copyright issue, an updated copy is available here: Howard Zinn, A People’s History of the United States.

At this point in time, my only criticism of Zinn’s book is that it did not focus sufficiently on land rights in the United States, as presented in such a book as: Charles Beard and Mary Beard, History of the United States, 1921; or such a book as: Roy M. Robbins, Our Landed Heritage: The Public Domain, 1776-1936, 1942. [A full copy is available for borrowing at Internet Archive.]

My point is that access to subsistence land is necessary for sheer animal existence, and such access in the British colonies was never free. Land was granted to individuals and corporations by the Kings of England, and these individuals and corporations had to create a profit for themselves and the King.

Below is an illustration of this from the Beards’ History:

Feudal Elements in the Colonies – Quit Rents, Manors, and Plantations. – At the other end of the scale were the feudal elements of land tenure found in the proprietary colonies, in the seaboard regions of the South, and to some extent in New York. The proprietor was in fact a powerful feudal lord, owning land granted to him by royal charter. He could retain any part of it for his personal use or dispose of it all in large or small lots. While he generally kept for himself an estate of baronial proportions, it was impossible for him to manage directly any considerable part of the land in his dominion. Consequently he either sold it in parcels for lump sums or granted it to individuals on condition that they make to him an annual payment in money, known as “quit rent.” In Maryland, the proprietor sometimes collected as high as £9000 (equal to about $500,000 to-day) in a single year from this source. In Pennsylvania, the quit rents brought a handsome annual tribute into the exchequer of the Penn family. In the royal provinces, the king of England claimed all revenues collected in this form from the land, a sum amounting to £19,000 at the time of the Revolution. The quit rent, – “really a feudal payment from freeholders,” – was thus a material source of income for the crown as well as for the proprietors. Wherever it was laid, however, it proved to be a burden, a source of constant irritation; and it became a formidable item in the long list of grievances which led to the American Revolution.

Something still more like the feudal system of the Old World appeared in the numerous manors or the huge landed estates granted by the crown, the companies, or the proprietors. In the colony of Maryland alone there were sixty manors of three thousand acres each, owned by wealthy men and tilled by tenants holding small plots under certain restrictions of tenure. In New York also there were many manors of wide extent, most of which originated in the days of the Dutch West India Company, when extensive concessions were made to patroons to induce them to bring over settlers. The Van Rensselaer, the Van Cortlandt, and the Livingston manors were so large and populous that each was entitled to send a representative to the provincial legislature. The tenants on the New York manors were in somewhat the same position as serfs on old European estates. They were bound to pay the owner a rent in money and kind; they ground their grain at his mill; and they were subject to his judicial power because he held court and meted out justice, in some instances extending to capital punishment.

The manors of New York or Maryland were, however, of slight consequence as compared with the vast plantations of the Southern seaboard – huge estates, far wider in expanse than many a European barony and tilled by slaves more servile than any feudal tenants. It must not be forgotten that this system of land tenure became the dominant feature of a large section and gave a decided bent to the economic and political life of America. (Chapter 2)

After the American Declaration of Independence in 1776, a question arose as to the status of lands westward of the colonies. These eventually became known as the public domain, and by the Ordinance of May 20, 1785, the following measures went into effect:

In line with the earlier abolition of feudal incidents, the ordinance adopted allodial tenure, that is, land was to pass in fee simple from the government to the first purchaser. After clearing the Indian title and surveying the land the government was to sell it at auction to the highest bidder. Townships were to be surveyed six miles square and alternate ones subdivided into lots one mile square, each lot consisting of 640 acres to be known as a section. No land was to be sold until the first seven ranges of townships were marked off. A minimum price was fixed at $1 per acre to be paid in specie, loan-office certificates, or certificates of the liquidated debt, including interest. The purchaser was to pay surveying expenses of $36 per township. Congress reserved sections 8, 11, 26, and 29 in each township, and one-third of all precious metals later discovered therein. In addition the sixteenth section of each township was set aside for the purpose of providing common schools.

[I add the following table:

Township = 36 sections
654321
789101112
181716151413
192021222324
302928272625
313233343536
[Robbins, Chapter I]

Land was, thus, not available for free, and those who illegally settled on any land were squatters, who, when the surveys reached their land holdings had to pay or be booted out. The other major problem was that land was sold only in huge chunks; so that only wealthy speculators could afford to buy it, which they then resold to settlers for a profit.

As to the Homestead Act of 1862 which granted 160 acres for free; although Zinn points out that only inferior land was made available, he does not mention the exorbitant cost to the pioneer to undertake such a possession. See: Clarence H. Danhof, “FARM-MAKING COSTS AND THE “SAFETY VALVE”: 1850-60,” The Journal of Political Economy, Volume XLIX, Number 3, June 1941: 317-359.

In conclusion, I think that Zinn was right on target in the following excerpt in realizing that freedom from slavery without a free access to subsistence land is just another form of slavery — wage slavery.

Many Negroes understood that their status after the war, whatever their situation legally, would depend on whether they owned the land they worked on or would be forced to be semi-slaves for others. In 1863, a North Carolina Negro wrote that “if the strict law of right and justice is to be observed, the country around me is the entailed inheritance of the Americans of African descent, purchased by the invaluable labor of our ancestors, through a life of tears and groans, under the lash and yoke of tyranny.”

Abandoned plantations, however, were leased to former planters, and to white men of the North. As one colored newspaper said: “The slaves were made serfs and chained to the soil. . . . Such was the boasted freedom acquired by the colored man at the hands of the Yankee.”

Under congressional policy approved by Lincoln, the property confiscated during the war under the Confiscation Act of July 1862 would revert to the heirs of the Confederate owners. Dr. John Rock, a black physician in Boston, spoke at a meeting: “Why talk about compensating masters? Compensate them for what? What do you owe them? What does the slave owe them? What does society owe them? Compensate the master? . . . It is the slave who ought to be compensated. The property of the South is by right the property of the slave. . . .”

Some land was expropriated on grounds the taxes were delinquent, and sold at auction. But only a few blacks could afford to buy this. In the South Carolina Sea Islands, out of 16,000 acres up for sale in March of 1863, freedmen who pooled their money were able to buy 2,000 acres, the rest being bought by northern investors and speculators. A freedman on the Islands dictated a letter to a former teacher now in Philadelphia:

My Dear Young Missus: Do, my missus, tell Linkum dat we wants land – dis bery land dat is rich wid de sweat ob de face and de blood ob we back. . . . We could a bin buy all we want, but dey make de lots too big, and cut we out.

De word cum from Mass Linkum’s self, dat we take out claims and hold on ter um, an’ plant um, and he will see dat we get um, every man ten or twenty acre. We too glad. We stake out an’ list, but fore de time for plant, dese commissionaries sells to white folks all de best land. Where Linkum?

In early 1865, General William T. Sherman held a conference in Savannah, Georgia, with twenty Negro ministers and church officials, mostly former slaves, at which one of them expressed their need: “The way we can best take care of ourselves is to have land, and till it by our labor. . . .” Four days later Sherman issued “Special Field Order No. 15,” designating the entire southern coastline 30 miles inland for exclusive Negro settlement. Freedmen could settle there, taking no more than 40 acres per family. By June 1865, forty thousand freedmen had moved onto new farms in this area. But President Andrew Johnson, in August of 1865, restored this land to the Confederate owners, and the freedmen were forced off, some at bayonet point.

Ex-slave Thomas Hall told the Federal Writers’ Project:

Lincoln got the praise for freeing us, but did he do it? He gave us freedom without giving us any chance to live to ourselves and we still had to depend on the southern white man for work, food, and clothing, and he held us out of necessity and want in a state of servitude but little better than slavery.

Countries go to war because some individual decides to go to war

As I read political history, I am distracted from understanding what happened by such typical formulations as “Country X went to war with Country Y.” On some level of understanding this is true, but unenlightening. This is just as unenlightening as the recent report that Cornel West was denied tenure by Harvard. The more enlightening description of what happened is that Cornell West was denied the right to apply for tenure by the President of Harvard, Lawrence S. Bacow. And a still more enlightening account would probe into Bacow’s reasons. [ For an analogous case, see my analysis: Andrew Chrucky, “Norman Finkelstein, DePaul, and U.S. Academia: Reductio Ad Absurdum of Centralized Universities,” July 23, 2007]

My point is that when dealing with governed institutions — whatever their nature — it is a prevalent norm to describe these institution as if they were agents. But institutions are like tools or machines which require a particular human agent to use them. And what I am calling as “enlightened” description requires identifying the human agent who makes the machine operate, and it requires a further probing into that agent’s reasons for acting as he did.

Suppose you read in a newspaper that Jones was struck and killed by a car. OK, on one level this is a correct description. But if you want to get into a more enlightened description, you would want to know where and when this happened, what were the circumstances, and who was the driver. Was this an accident? What was the condition of the driver? Was this an intentional act? Deliberate?

I am proposing a similar sort of description for the actions of governments and countries. There is always some “decider” in the government (as President W. George Bush, Jr. described himself — accurately).

Let’s consider the infamous case of the U.S. dropping atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945.
Such an act requires the decision of the Commander and Chief of the Armed Forces: the President of the United States. The responsible agent in this case was Harry S. Truman. And to get some enlightenment, we would need to understand his reasons.

Let’s consider another example. The fall of Constantinople in 1453. On one level, we can describe this event as a successful siege of Constantinople by the Turks. But on a more enlightening level, the siege was the decision of Sultan Mohammed II for whatever reasons.

What am I driving at? It is clear to me that great battles and wars are the decisions of powerful individuals. By “powerful,” I simply mean that they can get others to do what they want. They can use others as chess pawns for their ambitions. Who are these “pawns”? Soldiers and civilians!

Take any battle or war. On both sides, after the battle or war there are countless dead, disabled, sick and suffering. Consider the so-called American Civil War (1861-65). Wikipedia lists 616,222-1,000,000+ dead. Who was the decider who wanted to “preserve the union”? Abraham Lincoln!

Political history with its battles and wars, including the maintenance of internal “order,” is the history of megalomaniacs and other ambitious individuals who sacrifice the lives of countless others for their own profits and glory.

The lesson I draw from this reflection is that the principle of the separation of powers in government should include the separation of powers in the executive branch, as is done, for example, in Switzerland. Switzerland has a seven-member Federal Council; whereas everywhere else there is either a sole President, a Prime-Minister, or sometimes both.

Some Topic which I may or may not get to

1. Compare the attitude and policies of two owners of factories. I have in mind comparing the practices of Robert Owen in New Lanark, Scotland, and that of George Pullman in the town of Pullman, Illinois. Owen was a benevolent factory owner, who provided workers with various benefits; whereas Pullman tried to get as much as he could from the workers.

2. The experiment of Robert Owen in New Harmony, Indiana was a failed socialistic commune. And this example is often used to debunk the possibility of viable socialistic communes, calling them “utopias.” Such an example omits the very many successful socialistic — even communistic — communes and colonies. I have in mind as examples the various religious communes like the Rappists, who sold New Harmony to Owen, the Hutterites, the Shakers. the Amish, the Mennonites, the Dukhobors, and also such secular communes as the Kibbutzes in Israel. And let us not forget the many communities of Catholic monks and nuns.


Below is a map taken from Charles Nordhoff (1830-1901), The communistic societies of the United States, 1875.


3. Historians and others write as if countries were agents which go to war with each other. But the fact is that countries place war powers in single individuals (called monarchs, presidents, prime ministers). Take, for example, the United States which requires the formal approval of Congress to declare war. But wars can be engaged by Presidents by simply not calling the aggression a “war” — calling it “quelling a rebellion,” as did Abraham Lincoln.

An aggression can also be done in some other way by funding “freedom fighters,” or financing Contras in Nicaragua, or invading Panama to bring a culprit to justice, or invading Grenada to “protect U.S. citizens.” Or, by fabricating some reason for a preemptive attack on Iraq, and so on.

4. I am also bothered by the fact that World War I is not credited to Franz Joseph, the Emperor of Austria. Yes, the Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated. But this could have been treated simply as a murder. How is it that a country was invaded for the act of a murderer? But it was not a simple murder. It was the murder of the son of the emperor’s brother! Whose will was this to seek this form of revenge? It was the will of Emperor, Franz Joseph!

Again, after the 9/11 attack, the highjackers all perished. Why was Afghanistan attacked? This was the decision of the “decider,” as George W. Bush, Jr. called himself.

However, with World War II, there is less hesitancy to blame a particular individual. Everyone blames Hitler. But there is always in wars and invasions some “decider” who has been given disastrous powers.

The difference between Yuval Harari and me

Harari pays lip service to ecological collapse. His vision of the future is an optimistic one of capitalistic progress, of some kind of global federalism or empire, and of technological progress — especially towards a cybernetic dream. And when he talks about education — he anticipates a computerized world with an uncertain job market — but a world where there are jobs.

I, on the other hand, am more pessimistic. I see a world which is overpopulated and with fragile city structures, totally dependent on technologically operated capitalist governments and markets. And I anticipate that these systems will collapse. The education that is needed — when collapse occurs — is a sort of back to nature training — covered by such books as: