Can kindness be made powerful without being lost?

 

People who read Vasily Grossman’s book, Life and Fate, are not likely to forget the experience. That is not just because the book takes a long time to read, and is not easy to put aside once one has begun reading. Grossman provides memorable insights into the good and evil in human nature, by depicting horrifying events in the former Soviet Union during the Second World War through the eyes of the characters in his book.

In writing the book, Grossman drew extensively on his experience as a war correspondent with the Red Army in the battle for Stalingrad. Khrushchev’s denunciation of Stalin in 1956 made it seem possible to the author that views critical of the Stalinism could be published in a novel.  Life and Fate was completed in 1960, but its publication was suppressed because it suggests that the the Soviet regime was as inhumane as the Nazi regime. The manuscript was smuggled to the West some years after Grossman’s death in 1964, but was not published until 1980.

In this post I want to focus on Grossman’s view of kindness. Readers looking for more comprehensive reviews might be interested in those by Linda Grant, Robert Chandler, and Gideon Rachman. Rachman’s view is particularly interesting. He suggests that the book has contemporary relevance because political ideas that emphasize group identity seem to be coming back into fashion.

The most explicit view of kindness in the book is in its account of the scribblings of Ikonnikov-Morzh, an inmate in a German concentration camp. Ikonnikov followed the teachings of Tolstoy as a young man and joined a peasant commune after the Bolshevik revolution. Subsequently, his enthusiasm for communist agricultural policies was destroyed by the horrific implementation of collectivisation. Mostovskoy, an old Bolshevik who was also in the camp, concluded that Ikonnikov was unhinged, after he read his scribblings. Liss, the SS representative on the camp administration, told Mostovskoy: “You and I can feel only disgust at what’s written here. We two stand shoulder to shoulder against trash like this.”

Ikonnikov begins his tract by asking whether people have advanced over the millennia in their concept of “good”. He observes that over the centuries much blood was spilt as a diversity of concepts of good came into existence, corresponding to different sects, races and classes. The essence of his argument is that people struggling for their particular good always attempt to dress it up as a universal good:

“They say: my good coincides with the universal good; my good is essential not only to me but to everyone; in achieving my good, I serve the universal good. And so the good of a sect, class, nation or State assumes a specious universality in order to justify its struggle against an apparent evil”.

Ikonnikov describes how collectivisation of agriculture resulted in many people being annihilated “in the name of an idea of good” that he suggests was “as fine and humane as the ideal of Christianity”. He goes on to suggest that even the horrific crime of the Nazis were committed in the name of good.

He concludes that good is actually to be found in the everyday kindness of ordinary people, which he describes as senseless, wordless and instinctive. He gives an example of a woman who was unable to explain her acts of kindness to an injured enemy soldier.

Ikonnikov argues that it is not possible to make kindness powerful without losing it. He claims that when Christianity clothed kindness in the teachings of the Church Fathers, “it began to fade; its kernel became a husk”.

The tract ends with the passage quoted at the beginning of this post.

The question remains of whether Ikonnikov is right in claiming that kindness cannot be made powerful without being lost.

To answer that question, we need to consider what it means to make kindness powerful. Kindness does seem to be more prevalent in communities where people interact voluntarily for mutual benefit. In such communities, perhaps kindness is powerful because people tend to see acts of kindness as an example that they would like to follow.  

However, Ikonnikov seems to have had a different kind of power in mind in considering what it means for kindness to be made powerful. People representing sects, races and classes may set out with kindness in their hearts to seek to use coercive powers in support of their goals. I agree that the exercise of that kind of power tends to end up as unkind to people who are not members of those groups.

Is it still self-evident that all humans have natural rights?

 

The United States Declaration of Independence states:

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness”. (The accompanying painting by John Trumbull depicts the Declaration of Independence being presented to Congress.)

It is strange that at a time when nearly everyone pays lip service to human rights, few intellectuals still recognize that, properly understood, such rights are self-evident and natural. Douglas Rasmussen and Douglas Den Uyl note that it is not even common now for classical liberals and libertarians to appeal to the natural rights of individuals. They explain:

“a large part of the reluctance to appeal to natural rights in explaining and justifying liberty has to do with the idea that speaking of the nature of things is not needed and is not defensible, and indeed that metaphysical realism is either false or senseless” (p 340).

Before explaining metaphysical realism, I must first provide context for the quoted passage. It is from The Realist Turn: Repositioning Liberalism, recently published by Palgrave. This book is the third in a trilogy. The others are: Norms of Liberty, in which the authors explain how liberty enables self-directed individual flourishing to occur without one form of flourishing being given structural preference over others; and The Perfectionist Turn, in which the authors explain, among other things, that self-directedness - exercising our rational capacity to pursue and achieve relevant goods and virtues - is fundamental to human flourishing.

Metaphysical realism is the belief that “there are beings that exist and are what they are apart from our cognition of them and that we can know both the existence and nature of these beings” (p 8). That may be self-evident to you. If so, you have managed to avoid being unduly influenced by philosophers who follow Immanuel Kant in maintaining that the nature of what is known in human cognition is the result of a priori structures of the human mind, rather than the nature of things that exist.

Much of the book is devoted to defending metaphysical realism from its critics. Those critics have a range of differing views, but many claim that the mode of our cognition must enter the content of what is known. It is possible to give a brief sketch of the nature of the responses provided by Rasmussen and Den Uyl, by reference to the way a human can be defined in terms of distinguishing characteristics. The relationship between our conceptual knowledge of the nature of humans and the real nature of humans is analogous to the relationship between a map and the territory it depicts. We begin with an imperfect conceptual map and proceed to improve it step by step to distinguish the characteristics of humans from other kinds of things. Our knowledge of reality is partial and incomplete, but capable of being revised. To cut a long story short, as we condense a vast amount of knowledge, we can come to the view that rationality is a fundamental operating feature of human nature (pp 292-296).

Chapter 3, entitled “On Principle” was of particular interest to me because it involves consideration of similar issues to those discussed by Friedrich Hayek in a chapter of Law, Legislation and Liberty discussing principles and expediency. Rasmussen and Den Uyl end up in much the same place as Hayek. For example, this paragraph seems to me to have a Hayekian flavour about it:

“We do not stick to principle because experience and practice are in need of being ordered, but rather because principles reflect an underlying order that will again come to reassert itself if only those principles are followed. In the economic environment in which we now live, for example, the Aristotelian might advise a steadfast adherence to the principles of a market order rather than piecemeal attempts to patch up the economy and stave off unpleasant consequences, precisely because of an understanding that market principles are the way to bring health back to the economy, even if that means a rough road along the way” (p 117).

That paragraph still makes sense to me if I substitute ‘Hayekian’ for ‘Aristotelian’. Hayek expressed similar sentiments in arguing against “a spurious ‘realism’ which deceives itself in believing that it can dispense with any guiding conception of the nature of the overall order” (LLL, V1, p 64).

However, when I think about the paragraph further I see a problem in accepting that Aristotle’s views – including his just price concept and opposition to lending money at interest - were consistent with “steadfast adherence to the principles of a market order”. Perhaps it is necessary to distinguish what a modern Aristotelian might advise – having had the benefit of having read the works of Adam Smith etc. – from what Aristotle advised.

Rasmussen and Den Uyl define the Aristotelian view of principle thus:

“Here principles are generalized expressions of the nature of things. Like the empiricist, the Aristotelian holds that principles do depend upon experience; unlike the empiricist, the Aristotelian holds that principles are not distortions of reality but expressions of its nature” (p 117).

I see no problem in accepting that the spontaneous order of a free market is an expression of “the nature of things”.

It would be unfortunate to allow the most important point that Rasmussen and Den Uyl make about principles to be lost in a discussion of labeling issues. They argue that “there is in the end no antipathy between principles rightly understood and consequences fully considered”:

“The following of principles is itself an exercise of securing good consequences; and good consequences are to be conceptualized in terms of principles” (p 103-4).

When people discuss natural rights a question that often arises is where they come from. To believe in natural rights do we have to believe in a Creator who endows them? Rasmussen and Den Uyl do not appear to address that question explicitly, but they make a strong case that it is possible to reason our way from an understanding of human nature to recognition of such rights as being necessary to prevent various forms of human flourishing from being in structural conflict; and to protect people from having their lives, possessions and conduct used or directed by others for purposes to which they have not consented. The authors contend that a cultural change that enables the natural order to be seen as the basis for individual rights will be required to bring about an understanding of a proper defense of liberty (p 343). As discussed previously, I think a consideration of the nature of human evolution can also help us understand why we (as individuals) tend to have intuitions that other humans have natural rights that should be respected.

Of course, as Rasmussen and Den Uyl acknowledge, there are some people who choose not to recognize or follow ethical principles requiring the rights of others to be respected. As I see it, even in the liberal democracies large numbers of people believe that it is in the nature of things that the political/legal order must involve a struggle by different groups to have their flourishing advantaged at the expense of others. However, the authors have reinforced me in the belief that even when it appears impossible to implement a political/legal order that would sufficiently recognize and protect liberty, it is still worth considering ideal moral frameworks because such visions provide us with reason and motivation to care about practical problems of implementation.