Barbara Ward, of The Economist of
Her latest book, The Rich Nations and the Poor Nations (Norton, $3.75), is eloquent and, up to a point, quite persuasive. Though she tinctures her writing with the spirit of Shakespeare’s Portia (“the quality of mercy is not strained”), her primary appeal is to the self-interest of the “rich nations” which cluster around the
In asking the “West” to put up “one per cent of national income” as a fund for bringing the “poor nations” to the “take-off place” presumably leading to the creation of at least a minimum of abundance, Miss Ward does, of course, talk a lot about the appeal to “mind and spirit” and “resources of faith and vision.” But she prefaces her succession of Portia-like speeches with the statement that “to me, one of the most vivid proofs that there is a moral governance in the universe is the fact that when men or governments work intelligently and far-sightedly for the good of others, they achieve their own prosperity, too.”
Well, how can you be against Portia when, to the “quality of mercy,” the lady also adds the appeal of the profit motive? All this and 6 per cent, too! The answer, in the particular instance of Barbara Ward, is that she doesn’t really know what it takes to work “far-sightedly for the good of others.” She knows the words without really knowing the tune.
Miss Ward’s main trouble is that she leaves out of account the concept of the inalienable rights of the individual. On page 155 of her book, four pages from the end, she does finally get around to mentioning “freedom.” But this comes as an afterthought, as applied to individuals in the “proletarian” nations.
One of Miss Ward’s earlier books was titled Five Ideas That Change the World. In The Rich Nations and the Poor Nations, still addicted to the numbers game, Miss Ward speaks of the “four revolutions” that are altering our environment and the way we live. The “first revolution” is that of “equality”— “equality of men and equality of nations.” The “second revolution” concerns “the idea of progress,” an emphasis on the “here and now,” the “this worldiness” of wanting goods and opportunities. (Adlai Stevenson’s phrase for it is “the revolution of rising expectations.”) The “third revolution” is the “biological revolution,” sometimes called the population explosion, a two-edged phenomenon that can create both markets and misery. And, finally, there is the “fourth revolution” deriving from the “application of science and saving— or capital—to all the economic processes of life.”
Miss Ward argues that the four revolutions, taken together, have produced “the mutation of a quite new kind of society: the wealthy or affluent society.” And she insists that the proletarian nations of
A Question of Privilege
Before offering her own blueprint for aid, Miss Ward gives us a good deal of back history, both of the development of the communist idea and of the Western retreat from colonialism. Though much of this history is unexceptionable, her phraseology, for all of its graciousness, occasionally sets the teeth on edge. She uses the latter-day economic gabble about “take-off” and “infrastructure,” which are the cliches of the new “sophistication.” And she talks of the North Atlantic cluster as the “privileged nations,” which must mean, if it means anything, that such things as the steam engine and the Bessemer process and the atomic pile and the discovery of antibiotics are to be classified as gifts from a rich uncle, not as the end-products of decades and even centuries of patient experimentation and work.
The truth is that the West scrabbled for every inch of its success as Miss Ward herself recognizes on page 39 of her book when she remarks that “for over a thousand years, one of the great drives in the Western economy was to open trade with the wealthier East.” (The italics are ours—and in the margin of Miss Ward’s book we note our own scribbled notation, “the ‘privileged’ West, my foot! “) As Miss Ward says, “one of the problems facing [East-West] trade was the West’s inability to provide very much in return.” So it seems that it was the East that was “privileged”—and that the West had to work like the devil to make things that were worthy of barter before it could trade at all.
Discovery of the Individual
In its effort to transcend the conditions of life in the “cold and uncomfortable” regions around the
What has happened in recent years is that the newly emergent nations see the end results of the revolution of the individual without grasping the importance of the unique dynamism that originally set everything in motion. A Castro, a Mao Tse-tung, thinking that the results can be had without ascertaining the true cause, plunge blindly ahead, confiscating individual capital, telling scientists that they are wards of the super state, and treating personal “equality” as the right to an equal share in misery, not as title to equal respect for one’s inalienable rights before the law. And instead of breaking out of the circle of the “have-nots,” Cuba and China become far more miserable than they had ever been under “colonial” and “bourgeois” and “imperial” dispensations.
As for Communist Russia itself, it has had to liquidate three million kulaks, accept four years of lend-lease from the West, and confiscate the rocket technology of the Germans in order to create the basis for its contemporary military might. This military might looms large to Poles, Hungarians, Chinese— and to many in the still “uncommitted” and “neutral” countries. But to feed the men in the Russian munitions industry and in the armed forces, half the Russian population must remain chained to the hoe and the plow. Such a waste of manpower is hardly a happy augury for sustained offensive effort in any long war with nations that feed themselves by giving a mere 8 or 10 per cent of their human energy to the raising of crops.
The Conditions for Progress Must Come First
In a backhanded way Miss Ward knows that behind the affluent society there is considerably more than the idea of “equality” and the development of science and the constructive augmentation of the birthrate to expand local markets. She speaks of the British gift to
Exactly! But this, like the casual introduction of the idea of individual freedom, comes as an afterthought. Instead of preaching to the “proletarian” nations the need to develop a middle class that doesn’t have to kowtow to a state which owns the “commanding heights” of industry, Miss Ward acquiesces in all the old Fabian nonsense that economic “input” might just as well be left to the hands of a government bureaucracy.
Strangely enough, the antidote to Miss Ward’s way of thinking is to be found in John Kenneth Galbraith’s most recent book, Economic Development in Perspective (Harvard, $2.50). Before going out to
As for aid to “undeveloped” nations, Galbraith argues that it is useless to pump capital into regions that lack honest standards of government and literate populations.
All of this represents a “new Galbraith.” What we now need is a “new Barbara Ward.”
African Genesis, by Robert Ardrey.
Reviewed by Edmund A. Opitz.
This book is, first of all, an interesting yarn which, before the story is told, has undermined the major premises of collectivism and utopianism. The author, a dramatist, has spent some years and traveled thousands of miles trying to unravel the mysteries of our creature hood in terms of the new field knowledge of animal behavior and especially in the light of recent African archeological finds of Raymond A. Dart and others.
Were Dart’s discoveries and researches to be accepted by his fellow scientists, revisions of currently cherished scientific theories would be in order. But scientists are human, after all, and once they have made up their minds, they dislike unsettling evidence. Dart’s evidence is unsettling, and not to anthropologists alone, but to political scientists and economists as well— to all who are trying to figure out what it means to be a human being. Ardrey is a champion of Dart’s work and assembles the evidence so as to make out a cogent case— at least in a layman’s eyes.
Secondly, and by derivation, this book is an attack on The Romantic Fallacy, written with evangelistic zeal. The Romantic Fallacy is the set of assumptions common to virtually the whole spectrum of social thought since the eighteenth century, from Classic Liberalism to Marxism. The assumption is that man is an innocent, benevolent, and rational animal who has been corrupted by his institutions. All that needs doing, therefore, is external and social. Change man’s environment and, as his circumstances improve, a nobler race will emerge, shedding the relics of the ages of barbarism. Men will be as gods on
This book surveys recent studies of bird and animal behavior in the wild, and finds— as might have been anticipated— that studies of these same creatures in zoo and laboratory convey misleading impressions. Deeply rooted patterns of behavior include a pecking order among birds and a leadership spectrum among animals. Birds and animals have a strongly developed sense of territory, of exercising domain over a given spot of the earth’s surface; and they have a rudimentary sense of ownership as it pertains to things. They are pugnacious in defending their society and their own place therein.
Urging that man is linked to lower forms of life and has the same basic instincts deep within him, Ardrey argues that neither human beings nor their societies can depart far from the basic pattern of all life. The ineradicable pattern of human society will be a social structure characterized by hierarchy, nationalism, and property; the basic virtues will be martial. Cooperative and ethical behavior stem from “our innate necessity for society as a means of primitive survival,” but ethics and cooperation halt at the national boundary; war is the natural mode of expression when dealing with those beyond. “The primate has instincts demanding the maintenance and defence of territories; an attitude of perpetual hostility for the territorial neighbor…” Pushing the evidence pretty hard, Ardrey concludes that we are children of Cain, murderous by original nature and inclined to bellicosity by latent instincts. Man is “a predator with an instinct to kill and a genetic cultural affinity for the weapon,” the weapon is mankind’s “most significant cultural endowment,” are typical reiterated statements.
It is combat that has made us, asserts Mr. Ardrey, and “no conditioning force can eradicate our genetic affinity for the weapon.” Not war, but the elimination of warfare would undo us, opening up “a nightmare of unpredictables.” We may mouth the phrases of peace, “yet war has been the most natural mode of human expression since the beginning of human history, and the improvement of the weapon has been man’s principle preoccupation since Bed Two in the Olduvia Gorge. What happens to a species denied in the future its principal means of expression, and its only means, in the last appeal, of resolving differences? What will happen to a species that has dedicated its chief energy to the improvement and contest of the weapon, and that now arrives at the end of the road where further improvement and contest is impossible?” As Mr. Ardrey sees the matter, without involvement in warfare, man will go to seed. One gets the impression that Mr. Ardrey feels he must shout to gain attention, and overstate his case in order to clinch it. This is unfortunate, for it may tend to obscure the many merits of the book, both scientific and sociological. Mr. Ardrey attacks The Romantic Fallacy with such vigor that he overshoots the mark and falls into another error, The Genetic Fallacy.
The Genetic Fallacy is the assumption that the final flowering of a thing may be fully accounted for in terms of its first manifestation; that there is nothing in the fruits which wasn’t in the roots; that the mature form is discredited by its embryonic origins; that the lesser explains the greater; that a thing is understood when it is broken down into its constituent parts. Ardrey assumes that man’s immediate ancestor was a murderous ape, and then further assumes that twentieth century men, egged on by our kinship with all life, have an irresistible itch in the blood to behave in like fashion.
If the origins of contemporary behavior run this deep, then, by the same reasoning, the widespread acceptance of The Romantic Fallacy argues that it, too, corresponds to something deep and ineradicable in man. If so, man is not just a murderous ape, but an immensely adaptable creature with a wide range of possible “natural” behaviors. He loves to bamboozle and swindle himself, now by calling up visions of himself as little lower than the angels, and now by posing as a pretty tough hombre. Primitive men were pretty tough, and so were our ancestors on the frontier a scant century ago. Real history is not for the squeamish. But primitive man was also— and this is important if we wish to keep the picture in focus— an artist, a worshiper, an inventor, and the domesticator of the only animals and plants commonly seen today. He had to be handy with a club in order to survive, but the house dog and cat were not retrieved from their wild state with a club, but by using kindness and patience and a kind of empathy we seem to lack.
Finally, as to the book’s paean to Mars, it is true that there is an innate bellicosity in man, and a will to power which never sleeps. But modern war is about as far from this as the rudimentary number sense of the savage is from differential calculus. There is a connection, but it requires immense labor and sophistication to hook it up. And, then, having arrived at war, it is wrong to assume that war is merely war.