It has become
a commonplace to say that Western civilization -all the civilizations of the
globe, in fact- is in a state of crisis. Spengler and Toynbee, after studying
the laws governing the development of great cultures of the past, expressed the
opinion that our experience is repeating what marked the decline of each of
them: development of universal empires, atony of languages, cultural as well as
religious agnosticism. For those who may distrust such sweeping views, it is
sufficient to observe that today's questioning attitudes represent neither mere
matters of detail nor even the major renewals experienced by a civilization in
a state of becoming. Humanism [1] is shaken to its very foundations,
and, the object of criticism and schism has lost its inspirational force.
Renaissance and revolutions broke with their immediate past only to breathe new
life into an endangered civilization. This new breath was either drawn from an
old tradition or anticipated in political and social readjustment. The French
Revolution professed to be carrying out the aims of reason and nature, which
had inspired the West for eight centuries, just as the Renaissance had professed to rediscover the spirit
of antiquity. Our questions, on the other hand, arise not from a disorder in
the old but from a conviction that the old has exhausted its principles and its
possibilities and that it can henceforth only give way to something entirely
new.
This state of
affairs admitted by those who see man "in history," that is, by all vital
thought today, has given rise to the four attitudes that it seems logically to
inspire. Spengler thinks only of abandoning himself to destiny: "We are not
free to choose the point to be reached, but only to do what is necessary, or to
do nothing; and as past lessons indicate that we have reached a time of Caesarism
(this was written before Hitler), we have but to regiment ourselves in the hope
of returning through bloodshed to a pristine state of life and race, to that
cultural vacuum in which one day a new culture will germinate as if by chance."
Others, without really believing that history repeats itself, would at least
stop its course and maintain traditional values insofar as possible, not that
they are still living values but because they once were living. One is reminded of the Action Francaise movement's
desperate courage in regard to the classical spirit. As for Toynbee, he sees
the only escape from our horizontal impasses in a sort of vertical progress,
somewhat in the way that Bergson, concerned about our technical sclerosis,
invited man to retreat into the inner life and to take up on the level of the
soul an evolution which seemed to him exhausted on the biological and cultural
levels.
But one may
wonder whether these pessimistic attitudes -we shall speak in a moment of a
fourth one which is less so- take full account of the nuances of the situation.
Remaining within the morphological framework of Spengler and Toynbee, does our
apparent decline not possess characteristics which distinguish it from other
known declines and which prevent us from applying to it the general laws
observed elsewhere? The fact is that technological developments assure our civilization
a durability the others did not have, provided that total catastrophe can be
avoided. On the other hand, while former cultures were renewed by an influx of
new blood and resulted from the assimilation of a civilized but aged people by
an uncultured but young and enthusiastic people, industrial civilization, once
it has enveloped the globe and posed the same problems everywhere, will develop
immediately in tomorrow's young peoples the characteristics of the old peoples
and will lack the capacity to regenerate them.[2] Thus, if a new civilization were to
take shape, it would be without change of personnel and, in any case, without
possible recourse to a new or virgin people. And, since the populations in
question belong to a civilization which is ending (i.e., a critical and
reflective one), it is clear that any new departure will arise out of a
deliberate, premeditated act. Simply waiting, whether the act led to bloodshed,
stoic lucidity, or mysticism, would then be a criminal act. There is of course
no guaranty that a creative departure could ever be born out of reflection
(past cultures offer no example, and one may suspect a basic antagonism between
lucidity and impulse), but neither is there definite assurance that it is
impossible. The past does not tell us what might arise out of a civilization
which, knowing itself to be dying, would know also that it is incapable of
truly dying and would therefore take the responsibility for its own resurrection.
Would this grip on man's consciousness not be a ferment of unforeseen energies,
a vitalizing force unknown to peoples who had never known an obstacle of so
radical a nature? In any case, if a concerted mutation is our sole cultural
hope, we must risk it.
It may be that
this line of reasoning has limited us too closely to Spenglerian views and that
we may now need to give credit to a fourth and more optimistic attitude -that
of Marxism. While agreeing that traditional civilization is finished, Marxism
rejects the principle of discontinuity of cultures dear to Spengler and sees a
metamorphosis of our world, through a painful delivery, into a new universe in
which man is reconciled with nature and man with man, in the fraternal exploitation
of technical powers. Does this not promise a solution to our problems if we can
but be patient? But in this respect ordinary Marxism is cut off from
enlightened Marxism. If the first, confined to the oversimplifications of
propaganda, deludes itself that dialectics, conceived as the inevitable
movement of history, leads necessarily, "scientifically", to a happy future,
the second endlessly stresses the fact that today's economic and social
situation will not of itself result in a humanism. Historical examples even
show that, unless corrected, it is just as likely to engender an inflexible
bureaucracy. So intellectual Marxism lays increasing stress on the need for
taking a hand in things -the need for a spiritual effort. Marxist optimism thus
finds itself in the same corner as Spenglerian pessimism. Both give as our only
chance -if the term is not contradictory- the advent of a culture deliberately
chosen and thought out in advance.
It must be
understood that in these matters there can be no question of pure construction.
A system of values is not manufactured, because neither inspiration nor impulse
can be manufactured. Reflection must be content to catalyze existing forces
whose influence is already making itself felt. In Gestalt terms it can contribute by rejecting forms which have no
projection or fertility and by isolating those which are fecund. We offer, as
the same sort of evidence, the reflections which will follow. More simply, we
view things from the Western point of view, which we shall summarily describe
as "classical" in its finished form. But, since other cultures are faced with
techniques posing similar problems, our analyses will assume a certain
universality.
1. THE WEAKNESSES OF CLASSICAL HUMANISM
When
attempting to establish the negative balance sheet of our world, we are aided
by the innumerable publicists who, following or accompanying Spengler and
Toynbee, have denounced its defects, citing the whipping boys of bureaucracy,
mechanization, mass media, leveling democracy, religious triviality, and what
has been called, in some bad faith, the "defeat of science". But a value
judgment is not suited to our plan; such a judgment cannot fail to condemn in
advance every symptom of a new cultural start, since each would be judged by
the standards of an earlier system, unless the judge professed to place himself
above history, a claim difficult to sustain since Marx and Hegel. We will
therefore make use of the pessimistic essayists, attempting, however, to
underline that part of the old humanism which has no chance of revival (having
at best a hope for the future in the form of a tradition) and that part which,
on the other hand, is already visible as a "negative" -a shaping, or a signal- of
new animating values. At the risk of failing in its aim, our affidavit will be
offered without either nostalgia or scorn.
The truth of nature. Classical humanism placed unshakable confidence in nature. Born of a
superior force or subsisting in its own immanence, it is there before man, in
advance of him, not to be confused in its principles- and successive eras
proclaim it wondrously. Middle Ages, Renaissance, seventeenth century,
Encyclopedists, Romanticism each thought to return to it, and the history of
Western culture can be traced as the history of the meaning of the word "nature".
Whether it was held that it was grasped by intelligence, sentiment, or
sensation, it was seen as fixed and representable. Non-Western cultures enjoyed
the security of the same background: the mystery has everywhere an order,
whether it is called "dharma", "tao", or "providence".
Our situation
is entirely different. It is in the physical sciences, where nature ought to be
most readily attainable, that it most clearly escapes our grasp. The
contemporary physicist, instead of embracing his object in a look or touching
it with his hands, as the pioneer of yesterday, now finds himself in immense programs,
a part in a specialty he shares with only few others in the world, seeking his
object through apparatuses, cyclotrons, or synchrotrons whose workings he does
not always grasp and which he consults in his own time, lost in a crowd of
other scientists consulting the same oracle on subjects of which he understands
nothing.[3] This humility of research may well
deflate our pride, but it will not shake our faith in nature and in its truth.
But the results achieved by this physicist are more disquieting. First of all,
they defy our capacity for direct representation. In contrast to the articulated
and continuous world described by the differential equations of Newton and
Laplace, the wave corpuscle of wave mechanics, the discontinuities and
polydimensionalities of quantum theory, and, more recently, the notions of
antimatter and antiworld, without necessarily annihilating the idea of
causality and substance, confront us with a universe in which our capacities
for immediate representation -completely surpassed- return to a mathematical
formulation which not only sustains them but replaces them and often
contradicts them. Fienman's positive electrons, for example, move in the same
direction as negative electrons, but backward in time. And, for another thing,
these non-representable truths are hypothetical in the significant sense that,
instead of being set on a straight path leading to the true, they serve as
guideposts along paths parallel to others, none of which is the unique one. Contemporary
axiomatics have shown the convertibility of axioms and theorems for every
system and therefore also for a physical system; more directly, Destouches and
Février have established that an indeterminist theory is transformed into a
determinist theory through the introduction of elements inaccessible to
experiment and, reciprocally, that these elements may be eliminated by a return
to indeterminism.[4] Thus eminent physicists are known
to speak of their science in the plural: "physical science" has become "physical
sciences". Without going so far as the pragmatism of Poincaré or the Vienna
school, we understand that Oppenheimer recently denied all cultural and
humanist value to this irrepresentable and hypothetical science, at least if
one reasons, as he did, within the frameworks of classical culture postulating a
stable and perceptible nature.
At the other
end of the scale -and this is also true for what lies between- the picture
offered by the humanities is no less compromised. Our classics believed in a
nature of man as in a nature of things: the eighteenth century of Lesage, for
all its taxing us with madness, weaves this madness into a web so clear as to
be almost reassuring; when the nineteenth century boasts of having discovered
history, it means, from Hegel to Taine, that it has found the laws by which
history is governed. Nothing, on the other hand, is more symptomatic of our
feeling of uncertainty than the way in which we are turning back to Michelet.
Whereas Michelet attempted to approach the historical event in its multiple
guises- psychology, economics, geography, etc.- but only in order to restore
its living unity in a broad passionate movement, his disciple today sees these
elements only as independent strata, each of which has its own causality. The
human fact is broken up, for the scientific historian as well as for the
novelist, from Faulkner to Robbe-Grillet. It is true that, to reweave all this,
we have discovered the thread of dialectics; but this thread, re-formed by
existentialist and psychoanalytic thought, gives rise to a process of infinity,
as evidenced by the prolixity of phenomenological descriptions. Like physical
nature, human nature has lost its character of representable and continuous
datum, and the traditional solid humanism of man as a stable figure has been
even more roughly handled.
If only this
diffused character of truth had remained the property of scholars, without
reaching the people, that reservoir of energy and faith! But the man in the
street breathes it in his everyday life.
Technical expansion has engulfed him in a tide of information of all kinds,
breaking the framework of narrow conviction which gave assurance and guidance
to yesterday's peasant and artisan. The press, radio, and television,
disturbing more for their omnipresence than for their malice, constantly place
the average man face to face with the various cultural systems of his own
civilization, as well as with those of all civilizations on earth. And here our
situation is absolutely unique. While the cultures of the past either felt
contempt for each other (the idea of out-groups as barbarians) or else absorbed
each other, we have invented the disquieting concept of coexistence which, in
addition to its political meaning, is a humanist conception recognizing that a
culture can be different from one's own, can be based on principles which one
does not admit, and still be effective in attaining truths (though it be savage
or impious) which cannot be attained through the principles that one admits
one's self. In short, if the nineteenth century, by discovering history,
invented a sort of successive
coexistence in which epochs are linked in a rupture and a sympathy called "historicity",
the man in the street has inaugurated a simultaneous coexistence having the
added weight of presence. But one can hardly fail to see that this respect for
all cultures is most likely to have a disintegrating effect upon culture, at
any rate upon traditional culture, since it attacks the mainspring: sureness of
self, the conviction that one's culture is
based on a nature unique in its truth.
The morals of nature. - The most
convincing image of classical morals is that of Hercules at the crossroads. The
iconographical fecundity of the subject proves this. And, in fact, if there is
a stable nature -it matters little whether it be rational or perceptible- there
are also good and evil. The first must be chosen and the second rejected; this
is a matter of courage.
Today,
Hercules can still represent our ethical steps, but on the condition that his
decision be situated on a path which peters out rather than at a fork in the
road. Our choice is no longer so much a matter of choosing good instead of evil
as of inventing a good in risk and chance. How can it be otherwise when nature
is less to be observed than constructed? But in this case vocation, which bore
the same relation to the action of the state as truth did to the understanding
of nature, has lost its cultural power.
This loss of
power was the more inevitable in that, at the moment the individual discovers
the contingency of his paths, he discovers his own contingency. The most highly
qualified engineer knows that in case of accident he will receive treatment
unknown to ancient societies, but he also knows that a single want ad will
suffice to replace him. Alexander and Napoleon won wars single-handedly, while
our wars, waged by operational research and industry, are won by everyone and
by no one; and what minister today truly dominates his ministry? The arrival of
what Spengler calls "universal cities", the predominance of structures over the
individual, convince small and great alike of their superfluity, reducing still
further the vocation already compromised by the absence of a defined good.
Nothing is more foreign to traditional cultures -occidental or other- than this
lack; their categorical imperatives and stable dignities defended man against
the feeling of contingency and its accompanying anguish.
The beauty of nature. - What more
eloquent sermon praising nature have we had than post-Renaissance painting?
Even the liberties taken by Baroque artists were but liberties of detail
designed for a better grasp of the rhythms of things and of the world. The
Chinese landscape or the Byzantine icon, far from being naturalistic, are
oriented toward Being, toward true nature, just as surely as a Flemish
primitive is preoccupied with the rendering of materials, and from this comes
the feeling of unanimity among the old masters, between artist and artist,
between artist and public. And whatever was abstract in their works also
involved a surpassing of the individual and an investiture by nature, in
varying proportions of rational geometry or of social ritual. Thus painting,
literature, and the other arts played their roles of cultural regulators and
animators.
We know that,
on the contrary, the contemporary artist takes pride in originality, in
differentiating himself from other artists, and in opposition to nature as a
datum. His solitude is the more incurable in that it is based not on a moral
choice but rather on the considered conviction that beauty -as earlier truth
and good- is something to be conceived rather than something to be recorded.
Expression gives way to creation. In this way art, hitherto a proof of humanist
unanimity, moved over, from abstract painting to twelve-tone music to "a-literature",
into a state of ferment in which everything is questioned.
Besides all
this, if we wish to measure the transformations in progress we cannot limit the
discussion to the major arts which after all concern only an elite. The
aesthetic sphere is larger than this, and it is doubtless on its periphery that
it truly engages the culture of a population: applied arts, the artisan's
painstaking work, rhetoric, urbanism, calligraphy, orthography. All this is
compromised. The verbal sonority, dialectical skill, and wit of which our
ancestors were so proud today elicit defiance rather than esteem. For it is not
any particular form which is being weakened; it is all form, which, as soon as
it appears to be sacred, is suspected of "formalism" by the critical and
technical mentality of our time. If one considers the natural and stable
character of forms in the old humanism, this instability represents a radical
change.
The crumbling of myths. - Taken as
a whole, the three evolutions we have just sketched form a resume of contemporary
man's attitude concerning myth. This word is so much in fashion because it is
at the core of our present situation. Myth may be defined as an
idea-image-force animating the body of material which perpetuates it in rites;
its speculative, moral, and aesthetic system of values is formed in a way that
is partially irrational, yet real and age-old. The twelfth-century Crusade, the
Poverty of St. Francis, the Latinism of Renaissance man, the Enlightenment on the
eve of the Revolution, science and progress since then, act with the
fascination of myth. In classical culture myth takes the form of system for
understanding, of duty for ethics, of beauty for art. Its motive force is
enthusiasm; its inspirational and regulatory force makes it the preferred means
of traditional education. To educate is reduced to introducing the child into this
pre-existing structure, inspiring love of that which conforms to it and an
almost instinctive horror of all that conflicts with it.
The mainspring
of this idea-image-force was broken by the development of the critical and
technical spirit. Today's intellectual feels that it is his mission to destroy
myth and mystification, these processes appearing to him approximately
synonymous. The destructive process is operative in political life where both
left and right denounce mythologies straight on, but this purification also
reaches the calmest regions of research. Epistemology, in the Anglo-Saxon
sense, takes myth out of science just as Bultmann took it out of biblical
exegesis. Myth has even been directly enervated through the work of the
mythologists. Dumézil, Eliade, and the school of Uppsala disclose the
mechanisms of myth in ancient cultures and their echoes in our own culture, removing
its secrecy and thereby its prestige.
Here, again,
the masses live what the intellectual formulates. In great moments they know a
reasoned heroism, with the
problematical patriot of 1940 contrasted to the "real" patriot, all-of-a-piece,
of 1914. In everyday life the average man replaces myth by slogan, hero by
star, enthusiasm by impulse. Slogan, star, impulse do not
belong to the world of
myth and are but its substitute, being limited to small, transitory
groups, and especially since they are never truly affirmed except in humor or, in any case,
without the assumption of a being postulated by the ideal. In a recent inquiry youth was
characterized by its "minimal aspirations". To this will be objected the recent
examples of German National Socialism and Stalinist communism. But on closer observation National Socialism proves to have been a myth
of those who no longer had myth, and its victories, as well as its defeat, are
an example of activism in a vacuum. As for the charismatic power of Stalin,
current Russian internal politics shows a society which has lived on the
strength of myth at the moment when myth has become impossible precisely
because of the progress engendered, and which would like to get rid of myth
without sacrificing its energies. The churches show similar preoccupations, anxious to purify themselves
without losing the flame.
These reflections lead back to our point of
departure. The fall of myth, more than any other thing, supports the idea that
we arc living in a declining civilization, and the universal character of this
fall, linked to the technical and critical nature of our culture, proves that,
far from being a local phenomenon confined to the West, our decline involves
all humanisms. Such a crumbling results in both apprehension and hope. Past
civilizations so clearly drew life from the infusion of myth that we are
inclined to doubt that a civilization is possible without it. But, on the other
hand, this causes us to be faced with a new and extreme situation which may in
the very fact of its extremity hide resources yet unseen.
2. THE NUCLEUS OF A REFLECTIVE HUMANISM
One is
strongly tempted to see the basis of a new humanism in certain ethical
qualities of contemporary man. It cannot be denied that in contrast to the
classical world's attitudes -the drape of a toga, as in antique portrait
sculpture- the best of today's man has created a style of nudity, of sincerity,
of modesty in the face of destiny and, at the same time, a feeling of
brotherhood, of simple and frugal solidarity, of love, too, which is by no
means lacking in grandeur. The very defects of our societies -brutality,
cynicism- can be defined in relation to these virtues, which they cultivate, as
it were, by corrupting them. One word sums up this code
rather well: authenticity. This is what, in more or less pure form, animates the ethics of
Heidegger, of Saint-Exupéry, or of James Dean, as yesterday it did that of
Gide, already a bit "old hat" because there is too much "pose" in his
disclosures.
It would be a mistake to underestimate these
merits. Who would dare claim that a passion for naked truth, though a risk, is
not man's finest risk ? But this does not suffice to define a culture. The great moral virtues were often an
attribute of dying civilizations: Marcus Aurelius and the beginnings of
Christianity, like Buddhist and Chinese wisdom, are found as empires end. To go
further, it is precisely our virtues that flourish in times of decline.
Sincerity, solidarity, nudity, somewhat disillusioned resignation, love- these
are echoes of Taine describing empires at dusk. For this to represent a new
beginning we should have to show that we are not concerned with a resignation,
be it ever so noble, but rather with an active center possessing the two
properties of every developing cultural system: that of being creative and that
of organising its creations gradually. Without scorn for our ethical virtues -indeed,
to show that they are not mere sparks from an ebbing culture- we shall examine
our discoveries in the light of the criteria of creativity and of
self-regulation.[5]
The truth of Dialogue. - What charges are made against contemporary epistemology? That of being
perspectivist and that of making undue allowance for construction -two serious
charges against a truth of nature. But is not our
complaint of a different order?
It would be
difficult to stress too strongly the originality of today's technical milieu. Spengler, Bergson, and the pessimistic essayists speak of machines as
of a simple, homogeneous reality; all machines, from the simplest to the most
complex, are held to belong in the realm of execution, with no values except
pragmatic ones. There
is, actually, a difference of genre, of "kingdom", between the instrument and
the tool, even between the abstract machine of the eighteenth century and the concrete machine of today.[6] The concrete machine -the one whose
parts act synergically[7] instead of being merely juxtaposed-
is a double confluent: a confluent of all the sciences which manifest their
exchanges in it, even when explicatory theories are partitioned, and a
confluent between human invention and the spontaneity of nature in the creation
of an "associated milieu", in which object and atmosphere exist in causal
interrelations. Therefore, the complicated machine is not reduced, as Bergson
would have had it, to the reification of a thought-out scheme; in this case it
would obviously offer no solution to our epistemological problems. Its
concreteness proposes between theory and theory, between man and nature, an
effective union, even a theoretical union, since it is reflected in the process
of concretization which makes it increasingly synergical. It is easy to see
what becomes of nature and truth, fundamentals of humanism, in the machine
world. The old changeless nature, left intact by the tool or the instrument
which manipulated it only from the outside and imposed no new regime upon it,
is definitely lost. In a Guimbal turbine, a Coolidge tube, or a supersonic
plane the object conditions nature while being conditioned by it. However,
nature is not suppressed; it constitutes, along with human intention, an
original reality which makes it partially mechanical as the object becomes partially
natural. Ancient truth understood as a linear deduction is destroyed in the
same way. While the technical object may undergo minor continuous developments,
it develops mainly in leaps, for, being concrete outside itself and in its
self-regulating relationship with nature, the reciprocal causalities it
establishes are totalities like living organisms and thus are transformed only
through total and discontinuous reorganization of operative schemas. But this
does not render all truth impossible, since these leaps take place in evolutive
steps, half-experienced, half-rational, which form the "technical genres". Thus
the world of machines has a meaning not only pragmatic but ontological and
epistemological, whose range we are just beginning to understand. And the fact
that science tends to be increasingly confused with this world, that only with
difficulty can one distinguish pure science from applied science, far from
being the ruination of truth, may foreshadow the possibility of a new truth in
which there would no longer be a gap between natural and artificial but rather
a reciprocal verification in common schemas. Cybernetics contributes to the
systematization of this cpiste-mology when it is not reduced, as by Ducrocq, to
an instrument of technocratic power or, following De Broglie, to a theory of
information, but rather attempts to be that general theory of modes of
functioning which Wiener had in mind when he launched the word in 1948.
The social
sciences experience a similar fate in the notions of constitution and levels of
consciousness introduced by phenomenology. Henry Duméry made remarkable use of
this in his Philosophie de la religion[8]. According
to these views, the "conscience" grasps the religious character of its object
by revealing its own religiosity; this constitutive act occurs on at least two
levels: that of "categories" (absolute, subject, grace, sin, charity, etc.) and
that of "schemas" (transcendence, soul, supernatural, fall, ecstasy, etc.), the
schema being in its mixture of interiority and exteriority, of
individualization and universality, the diffraction at once enriching and
debasing of category. We are thus far removed from the classical conception, in
which the lower manifestations of religious faith were considered as accidents
due to the expressive and executive necessities of the subject, or quite simply
to its weaknesses, without affecting in its essence the act, which was distinct
from the subject, while for Duméry category is engaged in the life of schema.
In the classical conception, on the other hand, the act of faith recognized a
fact, even though the discovery of this fact required the illumination of
grace; for Duméry the religious event is constituted (we do not say "created")
by the subject which takes from it both its passions and the troubled richness
of its schemas and transcendental purity of its design of category.
Nevertheless, do we not thus find again in die spiritual order, the double
confluence which we observed a moment ago in the truth of the technical object?
There is confluence between the levels of the subject, in which schemas and
categories are bound together in their very discords; and there is confluence
between subject and object, since the real event is neither suppressed nor made
contingent (simple cause) but, with the revelatory constitution, realizes forms
of integration in which their common objectivity is verified.[9] In addition, these views are not
limited to religion. Psychoanalysts like Schwarz have began to distinguish in
human love intentional levels which admit the integration of apparently
abnormal aspects, subjective as well as objective.[10] As for art, we have ourselves observed
how often aesthetic theories become articulated into a living truth instead of
destroying each other, as soon as we are willing to admit that in considering a
work of the plastic arts, for example, there are four constitutive attitudes
disclosing the various spheres of the object. They are a "spectator" attitude discovering the spectacle or "literary subject";
an aesthetic enjoyment savoring the
beauty of harmony, a fruit of universalized living form; an aesthetic experience which penetrates
the formal absolute of the work through the elements of unity or totality, of
universal symbolism, of original primitivity, of eternity rediscovered, and of
free necessity; and a human encounter embracing
the pictorial, sculptural, architectural subject in which the formal absolute
assumed by the (individual or collective) point of view of the artist realizes
that unique yet universal thing called "a style", a vision of the world.[11] Religion, love, and art thus draw
us away from a truth of nature, in the object as well as the subject. But the
analysis of constitutive levels discloses a truth of human action in which
object and subject are verified in the constituent act and in which the
definite strata, by their conjunctions, at once diverge and symbolize each
other.
Thus, in the
case of phenomenology as in that of cybernetics, the truth which is beginning
to dawn does not seern to be deprived of all regulatory character, despite the
removal of a fixed nature. In this regard it even possesses an advantage over
the old truth: it does not require premature bifurcations. Traditional systems,
whether conceived as the cyclical high points of the Middle Ages or the linear
systems inaugurated by Descartes, rested on principles which provided their
coherence but almost immediately separated them from each other. On the other
hand, our studies of technical functionings or of constitutive levels proceed
in some way from below and bring out partial truths capable of functioning in
widely varied speculative ensembles, postulating principles and final choices
only at the end of their lines of flight, as at the horizon. There is in this a
remarkable factor of horneostasia and cultural exchanges, which can be observed
even in political theory. Whereas liberalism and socialism split some time ago
because of their basic differences, the habit of postponing decisions of
principle and of soberly analyzing modes of functionings and intentional levels
caused economists and sociologists in both camps to exchange methods, to the
point where capitalism and communism today often reverse roles. This is why our
truth may be called truth of dialogue: of
man and man, of man and things. Not that it is reduced to the exercise of
dialogue, as the agnostic would have it, any more than it is separable from
dialogue, as the dogmatism of truth of nature would have it. Nature is on the
periphery of the dialogue, forming a sort of knot through more and more
comprehensive figures which symbolize it in symbolizing one another. Placed in
this technical and phenomenological perspective, dialogue and coexistence in
which we had at first seen a sign of anarchy -which, for a truth of nature,
they would be- become tests of self-regulation.
One may hardly
say how this truth also shows itself to be creative. It is at odds with its
system instead of finding support therein. In the technical field, on the other
hand, the balances it constructs are metastable, in the sense that they insert
themselves into a process of con-cretization in which each landing, after
saturation, is supersaturated and calls forth that total reorganization of
reciprocal causalities which is, in the proper sense of the word, invention. In
technique, too, man is responsible for nature through that confluent of artificial
and natural which is the concrete machine. More directly, he is responsible for
the machine itself, for, notwithstanding the popular conception of automation
(one of the latest versions of the myth), the ideal form of the technical
object is not realized in the robot. The most perfect machine is not a finished
product; it contains, on the contrary, degrees of indetermination which open it
up to multiple human intentions through a variety of coding systems. Man and
machine complement each other: the machine registers prodigiously well but is
incapable of sensation and invention; the human being registers poorly or
little but has the ability to make his recordings meaningful and inventive in
application to his aim. Man, then, far from being alienated by the machine,
finds in it his proper functioning extended and turning back upon itself to be
launched anew, through invention, toward new integrations.[12] And, as the phenomenological moves
in the same direction, since analysis by levels employs our constitutive
activity in all directions, the truth which is sought before our very eyes
seems to promise the twin characteristics of a humanist epistemology:
self-regulation and creativity.
Horizontal ethics. - Liberty,
or choice in the ethics of duty, has become for us the creation of values. Does
this reduce us to the anarchy or the empiricism which has been noted in
existentialism and in Marxism?
Let us
consider a simple example. Ancient and contemporary ethical systems agree that
one must love one's neighbor, but the methods of establishing this love differ.
The classics proceeded in what might be called a vertical direction, drawn from
a supernatural or natural principle. My neighbor, having the same religious end
or quite simply the same rational essence as I do, possesses the same rights;
my duties are inferred from this. Our ethics, on the other hand, proceed
horizontally, as it were, following approximately this Hegelian line. I am
constantly tempted to declare myself; the being-with which I am cannot succeed
in this except by causing itself to be recognized by others. If I impose myself
on others by force, I make a thing of it and am no longer truly recognized; the
only recognition of myself by others passes through recognition of others by
me.
It is clear that
this concrete morality is self-regulated. Contrary to the claims of dogmatic
beliefs, lived experience possesses a coherence, even a logic, as soon as it is
thematized. There are modes of conduct in which the meaning is accomplished,
others in which it is denied. No doubt the principles are then no longer fixed
and at the start but living and at the finish; their stability is nonetheless
measured in Blondel's or Jaspers' metaphysics, as in the existential
psychoanalysis of Sartre. And this ethics is also creative, given that it
increases our responsibility in various ways. It always remains to be done,
beginning again, testing itself in endlessly new situations which not only
apply it but develop it -as ancient casuistry- and reorganize it in true inventions.
In addition, not being deductive, it accepts the
verdict of the fact; deprived of the old refuge of "good intentions", it grasps
its good and its evil in the test of the event itself or in the opinion of
others. Finally, since it no longer has a human archetype as a point of
departure, but rather seeks to create one, it is responsible, in each act, for
the entire picture of man. Without lending itself to the self-assured and
comminatory preaching of classical ethics, it would appear that cultural fecundity
cannot be denied it.
The aesthetics of abstraction. - Art is a
privileged area for whoever would realize our historical situation. It is often
prophetic, for, in the intuitive and sensitive mode proper to it, it presents a
vision of the world which scientific or philosophic thought does not usually
systematize until long after the fact. What complicates things in our situation
is that abstraction, a characteristic of present-day art, is an ambiguous
phenomenon. It is known to appear in the final days of cultures as their
sclerosis, and primitive peoples are known to avoid it insofar as they are in
contact with a more advanced civilization -two reasons for seeing in our
abstract art an obvious sign of barbarism. But it is also clearly observable
that abstraction was creative and ordering wherever it did not represent a
final stage in the life of forms but coincided with the spiritual beginning of
a culture, as in the case of Islam. What part does it play for us?
In any case,
contemporary abstraction in no way partakes of a sclerosis of previous forms.
Francastel has clearly shown that it is neither the hardening nor the weakening
of Renaissance space but a clear break with it, a new departure.[13]
This feeling
is confirmed when it is observed how contemporary painting attempts a return to
first elements in all orders, to pure space, pure matter, and pure action. Thus
we have Paul Klee seeking the space which precedes form, the universal matrix
in which all form is born; haunted at the same time by raw material, by the
substance which preceded all designation; anxious, finally, to find in its
original purity the human gesture without which there would be neither space
nor defined substance. And in reality it is not a matter of simple
clearing-away, of happy and savage ignorance -somewhat like Spengler's moments
of pure race and pure life- in which man would take pleasure, between two cultures, in rediscovering the
magical signs of the primitive. There is some of all this in Klee, who is in
many ways admirable. No, works like the "Principal and Secondary Roads" or "Land
of Choice", or the "Devil's Jungle" of this same Klee, quite like the sculptures
of Naum Gabo, sketch out truly new forms as much in their content as in their
mode of birth. They create structures of matter, parallel to that of
relativity, in which substance is expressed by mass, mass by energy, and energy
by torsions of space. And, on the other hand, they are no longer constituted by
masterpieces comparable one by one to an archetypal nature- as in traditional
science and ethics every act, every proposition, had its own evidence- but they
are voluntarily inserted in series in which they recall each other as well as
nature, in the breast of that artificial nature and of that natural artifice
which is contemporary artistic expression, whether one thinks of the "series"
of Picasso, of Delaunay, of Mondrian, or again of the Klee of "Das bildnerische
Denken", for whom creation is always at the same time a methodology of art. We
here encounter once more our descriptions of the technical world, except that
in those descriptions technique effected, art manifested, transforming practical
schemas into the inclusive symbols of the whole. As for knowing whether this
self-regulation is capable of surpassing the artist and sustaining a whole
society in becoming its imagery, let one measure the degree to which Klee,
Picasso, Matisse, Mondrian, and Miro have penetrated the areas of the
advertising poster and the household arts.
But the
promises of painting and sculpture, esoteric disciplines, are nothing compared
to the soaring creations of architecture, closer to the people, which today
surpass painting in truly great creative inspiration --an encouraging
development when it is recalled that architectural creation is commonly
considered a characteristic of beginning civilizations. Brasilia, Chandigore,
Caracas, as statements of Le Corbusier, Frank Lloyd Wright's Kaufmann house,
Mies van der Rohe's Illinois Institute of Technology, Nervi's Rome station,
despite the profound differences among these four men, are creating the same
new world. The steel-ribboned glass wall, glittering by day and by night, dissymmetry,
pillar construction raising whole large buildings off the ground, cantilevered
overhang, man-made materials, the organic structure of self-supporting dividing
walls, mushroom- or tent-shaped vaulting, modular construction, the open plan,
the search for an architectural adaptation to both work and leisure, a link
between building structures and machine structures, a free-flowing
interior-exterior conception of space -all this shows the same reluctance to
accept either physical nature or human nature as existing facts but rather to
erect a median reality in which man and nature exist in mutual causality. After
what we have said of the technical world, there is a profound meaning in Le Corbusier's
insistence that architecture is a "machine for living", as there is in Gropius'
remark that it is a "methodology of society".[14]
To these
dazzling developments in the spatial arts may be compared the current crisis in
the temporal arts, especially in music and literature -unless this too may
contain another indirect confirmation of our hopes. Time is in fact more
interior than is space; also it is elaborated later than space in cultures, as
is indicated in the Hegelian classification, repeated by Faure, which lists in
order architecture, sculpture, painting, music, and poetry. Thus the
difficulties of contemporary music would seem to indicate a point of departure.
The same might be said of our literary poverty. Aside from its position among
the arts of time, language, through its sociological and ideological functions,
is deeply engaged in tradition and little fit for metamorphoses; besides, its
cerebral nature makes it ill suited to serve as the stuff of the technical and
methodological experiments which we have been discussing. For all these reasons
our new time themes will perhaps first be constituted in those of the arts of
time which are most strongly supported by space: dance and film, when the
latter has come to realize that its chief material is textured at least as much
by duration as by image. But prophecy is dangerous. Aside from the fact that
the arts of time have occasionally known dawning outbursts in the past -witness
Homer and Dante- the rhythm of our reflective culture, doubtless greatly accelerated
in comparison to the age-old cultures of Spengler, may hasten the blooming of
literary and musical works. So it is even more important for us that, when they
explore truly creative paths and are not content to plagiarize or to deny the
past, our arts of time adopt the lines of force of other sectors of culture. In
the contemporary novel and poetry, as in electronic music, there is an
exploitation of schemas which, at the symbolic level proper to art, is
contemporaneous with the cybernetic and phenomenological relationships which we
noted in painting
and architecture.[15] In all
fields the same orientation is involved, even though the temporal arts, in
their essence or in any other way, do not show immediately the same virtues of
self-regulation and creativity.
From myth to network system. - We have
asked: Is it possible to build a culture without myth? And, by the enervation of myth, does not
technical and critical civilization cut off all hope for itself? We now see
that it may not be possible to state the problem quite so bluntly. What we have just said of
contemporary epistemology, ethics, and art forces on us a new image of reality,
that of a universal network, and we may well ask whether this is not capable of
taking the place of myth.
Elements are
disposed in a network when they are joined together in such a manner that they
form a fabric in which they refer to each other, each participating in the
forces and the structures of the whole, which they support, share, and
exchange. Here it must be made clear that a true network is not defined in its own
terms; it incloses something and is organized within itself only for the
reticulation of external reality, with which it forms a new reality. But then the web possesses several of
the properties of myth. It, too, is of a universal and totalitarian tendency,
is both visible and tangible. It blends the imaginary and the rational,
understanding and action, and arouses the ideas-images-forces. It has a
collective meaning and, in assuming the real, presents itself as real and
sacred. [16] Of
course, unlike myth, which is static and irrational, the web must be constantly
constructed, remade, criticized, and reinvented -otherwise how could it be
reconciled with the critical and artificialist mentality? But its artificiality
is not a pure contingency; it holds man and beings enchained in its meshes, in
its schemas of interaction joined with each other. We recall that contemporary architecture is a
machine, in the noble sense of the word; the expression can be turned around,
and we may say that the world of concrete machines is an architectural one: its
reticulary structure weaves an environment around man, a world of operationally
significant forms. It creates, in short, that inclosing space which is the
language of architecture.
Of course, for the network to play this cultural
role, it must be open and not closed in a sterilizing automation. In other words, the machine's
informatory capacity must encounter man's capacity for discerning meaning. The notion of network, this is to say, cannot be completely elucidated
by cybernetic examination; it terminates in a phenomenology. When all is said and done, the
machine does not require the supplement of a soul demanded by Bergson but
rather a complement of spirit, in which it is coupled with the human element in
a totality of finalized action and thought. Pessimistic
essayists have made of the network a mass or a labyrinth, and this it is when
judged by ancient norms, for it is far from having a certain given nature and
individuality. On the other hand, as soon as it is seen as including nature
designed for human intention and attaching the individual to the productive
community, it connects more than it incloses. And the virtues of humility,
nakedness, and participation, proper to dying civilizations, would then in our
case be creative and self-regulated virtues of a new relationship between man
and things and between man and man within a reticular world.
3. CONCLUSION
As recently as
a few years ago it was still possible to distinguish between men of culture,
literary men concerned with so-called eternal values of the past, and
technicians, oriented toward the effective, the future. This
distinction has disappeared. While it is true that we have been driven into a corner where we must
reflect about culture, the man of culture no longer has the right to bury
himself in the study of ancient civilizations, justified in hasty and
incidental comparisons between these and our own, and pessimistic a priori. Nor
can the technician afford to be hypnotized by pure efficacy, now that his
objects are the signs of a culture aborning. Both must contribute to the definition
of present values. This will not be a continuation of the old "general culture",
in which it was sufficient for the historian to read occasionally a. work of scientific vulgarization and
for the engineer to relax in the evening with Homer of the Upanishads. These
are still useful pastimes, but they indicate an evasion of the real question.
Today, general culture is no longer a survey of the element, included in
extrinsic analogies, but rather the penetration of the very thread of the
element, to the knot in which, in the most exacting form of specialization, it
joins the network of all its implications and expands from the self-examining
to the universal.
This labor of
deep examination, of "presemifying" if you will, is made indispensable by the
very nature of a technical culture. We have presented the ideas of network, of
methodology, of participation; these are so many realities which are not dear
in themselves and which have to be revealed. For that matter, what cultural
values have not clamored for revelation? Classical man constructed the humanism
which was his own, first literary, then scientific, by clarifying and putting
into circulation the fundamental principles necessary for a general
understanding of literature or of science. We must clarify and inculcate the
concepts, images, and imperatives of our technological and phenom-enological
values.
The
intellectual has, therefore, a primary role to play at this moment in history.
The difficulty is that, often reactionary or progressive, he prefers to take
refuge in the past or in the future, from which point of view he pronounces
judgment on what he calls the "present" with a self-flattering pride. His
return to the present would represent a salutory step for himself as well as
for those he is supposed to serve. He would discover that meditation of the
actual in its full force sheds light on the past in its full force, just AS the
meditation of previous creations is the source from which we in our turn draw
creative ardor and clairvoyance. The present does not make history relative. As
Hegel realized, it is the moment seized in its articulation of moment which
makes its best showing in the eternal.
The young
nations are just as involved in this as are the intelligentsia. We said at the
outset that a new and radical departure should not be expected of them, for,
since every cultural development must today pass through the technical
mentality, they will encounter the same problems as we do and, in a way, will
be old before having really begun. And yet they retain the advantages of youth,
in the sense that they have a fresh outlook which confers on future values the
magnetism indispensable to their existence as values. In any case- since it
might be maintained that this enthusiasm has a musty smell of myth which will
disappear as progress is made- their capacity for astonishment has the
advantage of not slowing down new values by a priori pessimistic judgments
which prevent blase peoples from recognizing and developing themselves.
The concerted
establishment of a culture: the double requirement of method and impulse -or,
if you prefer, of self-regulation and creativity- implied in this task
undoubtedly explains the deep significance of the rapprochement we are
witnessing between the enterprising strength of young peoples and the
intellectual strength of older nations.