A General View of Positivism Or, Summary exposition of the System of Thought and Life · Auguste Comte
CHAPTER II
THE SOCIAL ASPECT OF POSITIVISM, AS SHOWN BY ITS CONNEXION WITH THE GENERAL REVOLUTIONARY MOVEMENT OF WESTERN EUROPE As the chief characteristic of Positive Philosophy is the paramount importance that is given, and that on speculative grounds, to social considerations, its efficiency for the purposes of practical life is involved in the very spirit of the system. When this spirit is rightly understood, we find that it leads at once to an object far higher than that of satisfying our scientific curiosity; the object, namely, of organizing human life. Conversely, this practical aspect of Positive Philosophy exercises the most salutary influence upon its speculative character. By keeping constantly before us the necessity of concentrating all scientific efforts upon the social object which constitutes their value, we take the best possible means of checking the tendency inherent in all abstract inquiries to degenerate into useless digressions. But this general connexion between theory and practice would not by itself be sufficient for our purpose. It would be impossible to secure the acceptance of a mental discipline, so new and so difficult, were it not for considerations derived from the general conditions of modern society; considerations calculated to impress philosophers with a more definite sense of obligation to do their utmost towards satisfying the wants of the time. By thus arousing public sympathies and showing that the success of Positivism is a matter of permanent and general importance, the coherence of the system as well as the elevation of its aims will be placed beyond dispute. We have hitherto been regarding Positivism as the issue in which intellectual development necessarily results. We have now to view it from the social side; for until we have done this, it is impossible to form a true conception of it.
Social Order was regarded by the ancients as stationary: and its theory under this provisional aspect was admirably sketched out by the great Aristotle. In this respect the case of Sociology resembles that of Biology. In Biology statical conceptions were attained without the least knowledge of dynamical laws. Similarly, the social speculations of antiquity are entirely devoid of the conception of Progress. Their historical field was too narrow to indicate any continuous movement of Humanity. It was not till the Middle Ages that this movement became sufficiently manifest to inspire the feeling that we were tending towards a state of increased perfection. It was then seen by all that Catholicism was superior to Polytheism and Judaism; and this was afterwards confirmed by the corresponding political improvement produced by the substitution of Feudalism for Roman government. Confused as this first feeling of human Progress was, it was yet very intense and very largely diffused; though it lost much of its vitality in the theological and metaphysical discussions of later centuries. It is here that we must look if we would understand that ardour in the cause of Progress which is peculiar to the Western family of nations, and which has been strong enough to check many sophistical delusions, especially in the countries where the noble aspirations of the Middle Ages have been least impaired by the metaphysical theories of Protestantism or Deism.
But whatever the importance of this nascent feeling, it was very far from sufficient to establish the conviction of Progress as a fundamental principle of human society. To demonstrate any kind of progression, at least three terms are requisite. Now the absolute character of theological philosophy, by which the comparison between Polytheism and Catholicism was instituted, prevented men from conceiving the bare possibility of any further stage. The limits of perfection were supposed to have been reached by the mediaeval system, and beyond it there was nothing but the Christian Utopia of a future life. The decline of mediaeval theology soon set the imagination free from any such obstacles; but it led at the same time to a mental reaction which for a long time was unfavourable to the development of this first conception of Progress. It brought a feeling of blind antipathy to the Middle Ages. Almost all thinkers in their dislike of the Catholic dogmas were seized with such irrational admiration for Antiquity as entirely to ignore the social superiority of the mediaeval system; and it was only among the untaught masses, especially in the countries preserved from Protestantism, that any real feeling of this superiority was retained. It was not till the middle of the seventeenth century that modern thinkers began to dwell on the conception of Progress.
It re-appeared then under a new aspect. Conclusive evidence had by that time been furnished that the more civilized portion of our race had advanced in science and industry, and even, though not so unquestionably, in the fine arts. But these aspects were only partial: and though they were undoubtedly the source of the more systematic views held by our own century upon the subject, they were not enough to demonstrate the fact of a progression. And indeed, from the social point of view, so far more important than any other, Progress seemed more doubtful than it had been in the Middle Ages. But this condition of opinion was changed by the revolutionary shock which impelled France, the normal centre of Western Europe, to apply itself to the task of social regeneration. A third term of comparison, that is to say the type on which modern society is being moulded, now presented itself; though it lay as yet in a distant and obscure future. Compared with the mediaeval system it was seen to be an advance as great as that which justified our ancestors of chivalrous times in asserting superiority to their predecessors of antiquity. Until the destruction of Catholic Feudalism became an overt fact, its effete remnants had concealed the political future, and the fact of continuous progress in society had always remained uncertain. Social phenomena have this peculiarity, that the object observed undergoes a process of development as well as and simultaneously with the observer. Now up to the time of the Revolution, political development, on which the principal argument for the theory of Progress must always be based, corresponded in its imperfection to the incapacity of the scientific spirit to frame the theory of it. A century ago, thinkers of the greatest eminence were unable to conceive of a really continuous progression; and Humanity, as they thought, was destined to move in circles or in oscillations.
But under the influence of the Revolution a real sense of human development has arisen spontaneously and with more or less result, in minds of the most ordinary cast; first in France, and subsequently throughout the whole of Western Europe. In this respect the crisis has been most salutary; it has given us that mental courage as well as force without which the conception could never have arisen. It is the basis of social science and therefore of all Positive Philosophy; since it is only from the social aspect that Positive Philosophy admits of being viewed as a connected whole. Without the theory of Progress, the theory of Order, even supposing that it could be formed, would be inadequate as a basis for Sociology. It is essential that the two should be combined. The very fact that Progress, however viewed, is nothing but the development of Order, shows that Order cannot be fully manifested without Progress. The dependence of Positivism upon the French Revolution may now be understood more clearly. Nor was it by a merely fortuitous coincidence that by this time the introductory course of scientific knowledge by which the mind is prepared for Positivism should have been sufficiently completed.
But we must here observe that, beneficial as the intellectual reaction of this great crisis undoubtedly was, its effects could not be realized until the ardour of the revolutionary spirit had been to some extent weakened. The dazzling light thrown upon the Future for some time obscured our vision of the Past. It disclosed, though obscurely, the third term of the social progression; but it prevented us from fairly appreciating the second term. It encouraged that blind aversion to the Middle Ages, which had been inspired by the emancipating process of modern times; a feeling which had once been necessary to induce us to abandon the old system. The suppression of this intermediate step would be as fatal to the conception of Progress as the absence of the last; because this last differs too widely from the first to admit of any direct comparison with it. Right views upon the subject were impossible therefore until full justice had been rendered to the Middle Ages, which form at once the point of union and of separation between ancient and modern history. Now it was quite impossible to do this as long as the excitement of the first years of the revolution lasted. In this respect the philosophical reaction, organized at the beginning of our century by the great De Maistre, was of material assistance in preparing the true theory of Progress. His school was of brief duration, and it was no doubt animated by a retrograde spirit; but it will always be ranked among the necessary antecedents of the Positive system; although its works are now entirely superseded by the rise of the new philosophy, which in a more perfect form has embodied all their chief results.
What was required therefore for the discovery of Sociological laws, and for the establishment upon these laws of a sound philosophical system, was an intellect in the vigour of youth, imbued with all the ardour of the revolutionary spirit, and yet spontaneously assimilating all that was valuable in the attempts of the retrograde school to appreciate the historical importance of the Middle Ages. In this way and in no other could the true spirit of history arise. For that spirit consists in the sense of human continuity, which had hitherto been felt by no one, not even by my illustrious and unfortunate predecessor Condorcet. Meantime the genius of Gall was completing the recent attempts to systematize biology, by commencing the study of the internal functions of the brain; as far at least as these could be understood from the phenomena of individual as distinct from social development. And now I have explained the series of social and intellectual conditions by which the discovery of sociological laws, and consequently the foundation of Positivism, was fixed for the precise date at which I began my philosophical career: that is to say, one generation after the progressive dictatorship of the Convention, and almost immediately after the fall of the retrograde tyranny of Bonaparte. Thus it appears that the revolutionary movement, and the long period of reaction which succeeded it, were alike necessary, before the new general doctrine could be distinctly conceived of as a whole. And if this preparation was needed for the establishment of Positivism as a philosophical system, far more needful was it for the recognition of its social value. For it guaranteed free exposition and discussion of opinion: and it led the public to look to Positivism as the system which contained in germ the ultimate solution of social problems. This is a point so obvious that we need not dwell upon it further.
Having satisfied ourselves of the dependence of Positivism upon the first phase of the Revolution, we have now to consider it as the future guide of the second phase. [The constructive phase of the Revolution. The first attempts to construct failed, being based on destructive principles] It is often supposed that the destruction of the old regime was brought about by the Revolution. But history when carefully examined points to a very different conclusion. It shows that the Revolution was not the cause but the consequence of the utter decomposition of the mediaeval system; a process which had been going on for five centuries throughout Western Europe, and especially in France; spontaneously at first, and afterwards in a more systematic way. The Revolution, far from protracting the negative movement of previous centuries, was a bar to its further extension. It was a final outbreak in which men showed their irrevocable purpose of abandoning the old system altogether, and of proceeding at once to the task of entire reconstruction. The most conclusive proof of this intention was given by the abolition of royalty; which had been the rallying point of all the decaying remnants of the old French constitution. But with this exception, which only occupied the Convention during its first sitting, the constructive tendencies of the movement were apparent from its outset; and they showed themselves still more clearly as soon as the republican spirit had become predominant. It is obvious, however, that strong as these tendencies may have been, the first period of the Revolution produced results of an extremely negative and destructive kind. In fact the movement was in this respect a failure. This is partly to be attributed to the pressing necessities of the hard struggle for national independence which France maintained so gloriously against the combined attacks of the retrograde nations of Europe. But it is far more largely owing to the purely critical character of the metaphysical doctrines by which the revolutionary spirit was at that time directed.
The negative and the positive movements which have been going on in Western Europe since the close of the Middle Ages, have been of course connected with each other. But the former has necessarily advanced with greater rapidity than the latter. The old system had so entirely declined, that a desire for social regeneration had become general, before the groundwork of the new system had been sufficiently completed for its true character to be understood. As we have just seen, the doctrine by which social regeneration is now to be directed could not have arisen previously to the Revolution. The impulse which the Revolution gave to thought was indispensable to its formation. Here then was an insurmountable fatality by which men were forced to make use of the critical principles which had been found serviceable in former struggles, as the only available instruments of construction. As soon as the old order had once been fairly abandoned, there was of course no utility whatever in the negative philosophy. But its doctrines had become familiar to men’s minds, and its motto of ‘Liberty and Equality’, was at that time the one most compatible with social progress. Thus the first stage of the revolutionary movement was accomplished under the influence of principles that had become obsolete, and that were quite inadequate to the new task required of them.
In this condition of philosophical and political opinion, the necessity of Order was felt to be paramount, and a long period of reaction ensued. Dating from the official Deism introduced by Robespierre, it reached its height under the aggressive system of Bonaparte, and it was feebly protracted, in spite of the peace of 1815, by his insignificant successors. The only permanent result of this period was the historical and doctrinal evidence brought forward by De Maistre and his school, of the social inutility of modern metaphysics, while at the same time their intellectual weakness was being proved by the successful attempts of Cabanis, and still more of Gall, to extend the Positive method to the highest biological questions. In all other respects this elaborate attempt to prevent the final emancipation of Humanity proved a complete failure; in fact, it led to a revival of the instinct of Progress. Strong antipathies were roused everywhere by these fruitless efforts at reconstructing a system which had become so entirely obsolete, that even those who were labouring to rebuild it no longer understood its character or the conditions of its existence.
The apparent indifference of the public, to whom all the existing parties seemed equally devoid of insight into the political future, was at last mistaken by a blind government for tacit consent to its unwise schemes. The cause of Progress was in danger. Then came the memorable crisis of 1830, by which the system of reaction, introduced thirty-six years previously, was brought to an end. The convictions which that system inspired were indeed so superficial, that its supporters came of their own accord to disavow them, and to uphold in their own fashion the chief revolutionary doctrines. These again were abandoned by their previous supporters on their accession to power. When the history of these times is written, nothing will give a clearer view of the revulsion of feeling on both sides, than the debates which took place on Liberty of Education. Within a period of twenty years, it was alternately demanded and refused by both; and this in behalf of the same principles, as they were called, though it was in reality a question of interest rather than principle on either side.
All previous convictions being thus thoroughly upset, more room was left for the instinctive feeling of the public; and the question of reconciling the spirit of Order with that of Progress now came into prominence. It was the most important of all problems, and it was now placed in its true light. But this only made the absence of a solution more manifest; and the principle of the solution existed nowhere but in Positivism, which as yet was immature. All the opinions of the day had become alike utterly incompatible both with Order and with Progress. The Conservative school undertook to reconcile the two; but it had no constructive power; and the only result of its doctrine was to give equal encouragement to anarchy and to reaction, so as to be able always to neutralize the one by the other. The establishment of Constitutional Monarchy was now put forward as the ultimate issue of the great Revolution. But no one could seriously place any real confidence in a system so alien to the whole character of French history, offering as it did nothing but a superficial and unwise imitation of a political anomaly essentially peculiar to England.
The period then between 1830 and 1848 may be regarded as a natural pause in the political movement. The reaction which succeeded the original crisis had exhausted itself; but the final or organic phase of the Revolution was still delayed for want of definite principles to guide it. No conception had been formed of it, except by a small number of philosophic minds who had taken their stand upon the recently established laws of social science, and had found themselves able, without recourse to any chimerical views, to gain some general insight into the political future, of which Condorcet, my principal predecessor, knew so little. But it was impossible for the regenerating doctrine to spread more widely and to be accepted as the peaceful solution of social problems, until a distinct refutation had been given of the false assertion so authoritatively made that the parliamentary system was the ultimate issue of the Revolution. This notion once destroyed, the work of spiritual reorganization should be left entirely to the free efforts of independent thinkers. In these respects our last political change (1848) will have accomplished all that is required. [The present position, 1848-1850. Republicanism involves the great principle of subordinating Politics to Morals] Thanks to the instinctive sense and vigour of our working classes, the reactionist leanings of the Orleanist government, which had become hostile to the purpose for which it was originally instituted, have at last brought about the final abolition of monarchy in France. The prestige of monarchy had long been lost, and it now only impeded Progress, without being of any real benefit to Order. By its fictitious supremacy it directly hindered the work of spiritual reformation, whilst the measure of real power which it possessed was insufficient to control the wretched political agitation maintained by animosities of a purely personal character.
Viewed negatively, the principle of Republicanism sums up the first phase of the Revolution. It precludes the possibility of recurrence to Royalism, which, ever since the second half of the reign of Louis XIV, has been the rallying point of all reactionist tendencies. Interpreting the principle in its positive sense, we may regard it as a direct step towards the final regeneration of society. By consecrating all human forces of whatever kind to the general service of the community, republicanism recognizes the doctrine of subordinating Politics to Morals. Of course it is as a feeling rather than as a principle that this doctrine is at present adopted; but it could not obtain acceptance in any other way; and even when put forward in a more systematic shape, it is upon the aid of feeling that it will principally rely, as I have shown in the previous chapter. In this respect France has proved worthy of her position as the leader of the great family of Western nations, and has in reality already entered upon the normal state. Without the intervention of any theological system, she has asserted the true principle on which society should rest, a principle which originated in the Middle Ages under the impulse of Catholicism; but for the general acceptance of which a sounder philosophy and more suitable circumstances were necessary. The direct tendency, then, of the French Republic is to sanction the fundamental principle of Positivism, the preponderance, namely, of Feeling over Intellect and Activity. Starting from this point, public opinion will soon be convinced that the work of organizing society on republican principles is one which can only be performed by the new philosophy.
Even the social instinct is a force on the political value of which we cannot always rely: for when not based on some definite principle, it not unfrequently becomes source of disturbance. Hence we are driven back to the continuance of a material system of government, although its inadequacy is acknowledged by all. In a republic, however, such a government cannot employ its most efficient instrument, corruption. It has to resort instead to repressive measures of a more or less transitory kind, every time that the danger of anarchy becomes too threatening. These occasional measures, however, naturally proportion themselves to the necessities of the case. Thus, though Order is exposed to greater perils than Progress, it can count on more powerful resources for its defence. Shortly after the publication of the first edition of this work, the extraordinary outbreak of June, 1848, proved that the republic could call into play, and, indeed, could push to excess, in the cause of public Order, forces far greater than those of the monarchy. Thus royalty no longer possesses that monopoly of preserving Order, which has hitherto induced a few sincere and thinking men to continue to support it; and henceforth the sole political characteristic which it retains is that of obstructing Progress.
And yet by another reaction of this contradictory position of affairs, the monarchical party seems at present to have become the organ of resistance in behalf of material Order. Retrograde as its doctrines are, yet from their still retaining a certain organic tendency, the conservative instincts rally round them. To this the progressive instincts offer no serious obstacle, their insufficiency for the present needs being more or less distinctly recognized. It is not to the monarchical party, however, that we must look for conservative principles; for in this quarter they are wholly abandoned, and unhesitating adoption of every revolutionary principle is resorted to as a means of retaining power; so that the doctrines of the Revolution would seem fated to close their existence in the retrograde camp. So urgent is the need of Order that we are driven to accept for the moment a party which has lost all its old convictions, and which had apparently become extinct before the Republic began. Positivism and Positivism alone can disentangle and terminate this anomalous position. The principle on which it depends is manifestly this: As long as Progress tends towards anarchy, so long will Order continue to be retrograde. But the retrograde movement never really attains its object: indeed its principles are always neutralized by inconsistent concessions. Judged by the boastful language of its leaders, we might imagine that it was destroying republicanism; whereas the movement would not exist at all, but for the peculiar circumstances in which we are placed; circumstances which are forced into greater prominence by the foolish opposition of most of the authorities. As soon as the instinct of political improvement has placed itself under systematic guidance, its growth will bear down all resistance; and then the reason of its present stagnation will be patent to all.
Ideas discussed in this chapter
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.