social environment, upon general conditions, than we are wont to assume
from the first impression, which usually throws differences into relief
and overlooks common traits, generally fails to pay sufficient attention
to the growth of the individuals, and is too apt to take the positions
which they possess as essentially the result of their own work. In
contrast to this, the one thing which now has power to impress us is
the fact that the dependence reaches back to the earliest beginnings;
that the individual has become what he has become through the
overpowering influences of heredity, education, and environment.
Further, the conviction that the differences lie within ascertainable
limits, and that there is a certain average level throughout all the
multiplicity of life, is gaining a firmer hold. To ascertain these
average levels now becomes the chief problem of knowledge, and to
realise them the chief task of practical political provision. Inner
changes are also brought about. The fact that, with these changes,
responsibility, guilt, and desert are transferred more and more from the
individual to the society tends to call forth more humane sympathy and
more mildness of judgment, and tends to discredit the excessive
self-esteem of a self-righteous Pharisaism. At the same time it
constitutes a powerful motive to work for the whole; to strive to raise
the whole, morally and physically; to develop a social morality and a
strong feeling of solidarity.
To the modern man, therefore, the life of the State advances through
changes in content and form. The State, which in the Middle Ages had to
leave all problems of inner training to the Church, in its new function
of culture State now assumes all tasks, influences the whole life of the
individual, and is confident in its power to transform our existence
more and more into a realm of reason. Along with this there is a strong
tendency to place the State increasingly on the power and insight of
individuals; all through the nineteenth century this tendency won an
ever more overwhelming power. The more activity we bestow upon a
particular sphere of work, the more valuable does it become to us, the
nearer does it stand to our inner nature. Thus, the ancient mode of
thought, that the individual is a mere member of the political organism,
and that he receives his tasks and obtains his power from it, was able
to be revived.
With this the stronger emphasis laid upon national peculiarities, and
the more definite self-assertion and more vigorous development of
nations are associated. Formerly national character had been veiled
and, as far as the spiritual ideals of humanity are concerned, as though
lost. Now nations appear as points where the spiritual life manifests
itself and concentrates distinctively. To work out their peculiarities
clearly, and manfully to assert them in the competition of peoples,
promises great gain for the organisation and energising of life; for the
first time, the divine seems to pass into daily toil on earth.
Most of all, the modern organisation of labour, with its enhancing of
technique and its advance beyond the capacity of production of the mere
individual, heightens the power of impression of the picture as a whole.
Work brings about a deliverance from the passivity of the subject; it
organises itself into independent complexes, which develop into a state
entirely foreign to our nature. It produces its own motive powers and
necessities, and requires from the individual the strictest obedience.
The performance of the individual attains a value only in definitely
ordered co-operation with others; it loses all worth if he attempts to
ignore this relation. This is shown with particular clearness in the
evolution of the factory with its production by machinery. It is shown
further in every specifically modern work in administrative government,
in military organisation, in knowledge and education. Everywhere we find
great organisations; an enormous growth in the capacity of the whole,
but a sinking of the individual to a mere link of the great chain, a
proscribing of all individual will. If all thus depends upon the whole,
the success of endeavour and the happiness of life will be decided
chiefly by the organisation of the whole. It is not to be wondered at,
then, if the antitheses which arise in reference to this organisation
agitate people in the strongest degree; if a faith in the omnipotence of
political and social forms grows up, and if over these the keenest fight
rages.
In this connection there is no problem which gives rise to greater
complications and severer conflicts than that in regard to the
preservation and raising of the standard of material existence. If, in
general, we attribute incomparably more value to the material in life
than was done formerly, so here also the problems of modern labour reach
their climax. The organisation and concentration of labour have made by
far their greatest progress in this matter; a gigantic accumulation of
capital on the one side and of labour power on the other has intensified
to the uttermost the opposition between man and man. In this conflict
more than in any other the whole being of man comes into play; here,
therefore, the most powerful passions flame up. No wonder that, if the
thought of a fundamental re-organisation rises to the surface, it wins
an influence amounting to fascination, arouses the hope of an essential
advancement of the whole of human existence, and impels men to vigorous
activity.
Thus, then, this sphere, in which fact is regarded as principle, and in
which the problem of the development of society is elevated to a
position of importance above all others, and seeks to impress its stamp
upon the whole of life, is first and foremost. From this point of view
the organisation of society is the central problem of all culture, and a
distinctive social culture, a social system of life, is evolved. But
that which emerges at this point with especial power and clearness would
not have been able to win men so quickly and influence them so strongly
if it did not constitute a high-water mark of a wider movement, of a
general tendency of the modern man to regard the social relation as
being of the essence of life, and to shape life anew from this. Viewed
historically, this tendency arose as a reaction against the practice of
placing the individual in the foreground, a practice which since the
beginning of the Modern Age had been resorted to in the most diverse
departments of life. What was felt to be unconditionally right in
opposition to the bondage of the Middle Ages has, in the course of time,
shown a reverse side. Many painful experiences have led us to favour a
movement in the direction of the whole again; and so it comes about that
all hope of amelioration is able to be regarded as inevitably bound up
with the complete victory of this movement.
A distinctive social type of life can be formed and can strive for
supremacy only if great problems arise within society and if its
position in the whole of our life is capable of and in need of change.
It will soon be seen that the case is so in respect of both these
things; and also that two movements, one more general in kind, and
another more precise but also more uncertain as to its goal, are
connected.
The point at which the new development of life institutes a new demand
is the relation of the individual to the means of existence and the
goods of culture. Formerly an aristocratic order preponderated, which
allowed only a few to share in the abundance of these goods, while it
was only afterwards that the many were able to partake of the poor
remains. In material, as in spiritual, things man was concerned less
with the equitable distribution of the possessions of humanity than with
increasing them. The matter of chief importance, and this with regard to
questions of inward culture also, appeared to be in some way to
incorporate the contents and goods within the sphere of human existence,
and to fix them there; the extension of these goods among men was a
matter of secondary consideration, and often one that was only very
lightly thought of. The limitation to a small chosen class, indeed,
seemed to be quite indispensable for a secure and worthy organisation of
life. Thus, this culture acquired its character at the highest levels of
society, and from there descended in diminishing degrees to lower
levels: it was regarded as inevitable that in this descent much should
be lost, and that the less privileged classes must perforce be satisfied
with very little.
A movement in opposition to this state of things arose in the first
place among the individuals who were placed in the background by such an
organisation, and who, not convinced of the validity of the doctrine of
the immutability of their fate, began to make comparisons and to ask
questions. Their desire was not merely for more happiness, but for
spiritual advance also. In humanity there is an energetic striving and
advance, and in this a far greater spirituality and a far keener thirst
for truth are often shown in the classes of the people who are
struggling upward and pressing forward than in those classes which from
early times have had possession of power and wealth and which are
hampered by a feeling of self-satisfaction.
That which at first is striven for by merely a part of mankind acquires,
through its inner necessities, a power over others also, and becomes a
requirement of the whole. We experience here what earlier was called the
power of ideas in history, that is, the fact that in certain periods
certain thoughts and demands acquire an overwhelming power of
penetration and impel men to a line of conduct which is even opposed to
their special interests. We may so far speak of the supremacy of the
social idea in the present, as not only in the disposition of
individuals but also through organisation and legislation there is an
endeavour to bring help to the poor and the weak, to raise those who are
struggling upward, and to convey as directly as possible both material
and spiritual goods to all who bear human features. It is not only that
this appears a matter of justice; a rejuvenation and an energising of
the whole of culture are also hoped for. Without a radical rejection of
all that which in the traditional position has decayed, become alien, or
is now artificial; without a deep-reaching simplification and a greater
proximity to the soul, how could all partake of culture, and how could
it become a concern of all? The old demand of leading educationalists,
of Comenius and Rousseau, of Pestalozzi and Froebel, the desire for a
rejuvenation of our culture antiquated as it is in many respects, seems
to be approaching its fulfilment now that the matter is a concern of the
whole of mankind.
However, this striving, which in itself cannot be rejected, enters upon
a narrow course and at the same time upon much that is problematical, in
that it unites with the positivistic tendencies of the age in the
rejection of all invisible connections and in the restriction of life to
the experience of sense. Instead of the whole, we now have the average
and the masses, and instead of a creation from the whole, a building up
from below; the needs of the masses are the main motive power of life.
But as with the masses the chief questions are those of the physical
preservation of life, and of economic existence, it seems as if, with
their solution, with the deliverance from oppressing cares and necessity
through a radical revolution, a complete state of happiness and a
ceaseless spiritual advance of humanity are assured. Material welfare,
which in earlier organisations of life was so depreciated, in the new
system becomes the matter of chief concern; it is regarded as that which
more than anything else leads to the development of every power and
makes culture the truth for the whole of humanity.
The life of society is thus seen to be full of problems. Nevertheless,
the position of society in our life as a whole has been changed and
raised. We have become far more uncertain concerning our relation to
ultimate and universal reality; we doubt the possibility and the
validity of first winning, through religion or speculation, a world
beyond human experience, of the conveying it to that experience, and
from the point of view of such a world giving the human its light and
setting it its task. In short, the centre of life has changed from the
object to the subject; we know that we cannot abstract from our own
nature our spiritual organisation, but that we carry it into every
aspect of the whole; that we see and form the world through man. With
such a transition, the movement from man to world becomes the chief
movement of life; and the conception of man will decide the nature of
the conceptions of life and of reality. Henceforth greatness may be
attributed to these only if human nature is capable of an advance beyond
what it appears to be in the first impression. That, however, will
scarcely be possible unless humanity is conceived as a whole and, with
such a unity, has more power and depth than it has as it exists
immediately before us. This also will operate to the strengthening of
the social order, in which sense experience controls thought.
Thus, many different factors unite to make the condition of mankind as
it is, that is, the state of society on the basis of experience, the
starting-point and final aim of all endeavour, and the relation of man
to surrounding men the fundamental relation of his life. But, as in the
case of culture as a whole, the individual departments of life must also
win a distinctive character if the welfare of the social whole, the
achievement for man and the influence on man, becomes the
all-controlling task which sets the aim and points out the way for all
activity.
In this context science does not reveal hidden depths of things, but
aids man in winning power over appearances; it leads him to a more
zealous and a more active life. Art does not lift him into an ideal
world; but, within experience, softens the pressure of existence and
fills life with pure joys. Morality does not subject our conduct to an
invisible order, but directs man beyond himself to men around him; it
develops the feeling of solidarity and raises the standard of the inner
relationships of society. For religion as the revelation of an "other"
world there is no room; this world shows in humanity an object worthy of
reverence; so understood, religion also must work to the inner elevation
of society.
In everything that which distinguishes the individual is thrust into the
background to make way for that which is common; work has in the first
place to concern itself with that which is common to all. In that here
science makes man the chief study of man, it considers him especially as
a social being and finds its chief theme in the knowledge of social
conditions. Similarly, the chief subject of art is not, as was formerly
the case, the doings and experience of individuals, but the forceful
representation of these social conditions. The raising of the general
level becomes the chief care of all practical activity, as also of
education. According to this scheme the individual is of consequence and
of worth only through those elements of the common life which he brings
to expression, and through the way in which he reacts upon that life.
The industry of universal history is understood, therefore, not from
that which relates primarily to individuals, but from that relating to
the movements and destinies of society.
Such an estimate of the whole involves a conviction which seldom finds
expression, but which silently exerts its influence everywhere: the
belief in a summation of reason by the organisation of individuals into
a whole. Only a belief of this kind is able to establish the supremacy
of the mass over against the individuals, also in spiritual things; only
such a belief is able to justify the hope of a victory of the good in
the sphere of humanity.
The net result of all these ideas and tendencies is a co-ordinated
system of thought, a distinctive type of life. In this system man is
first and foremost a member of society; he originates in it; he remains
in it; and his activity carries implications far beyond his own life.
Not community of labour only joins him with his fellows, but also the
general tone of thought and feeling. This type of life is not one
without sacrifice; for it has to give up many things which in earlier
times seemed a secure possession and were a source of joy. Yet these
things were only illusions which vanished, and mankind seems to find a
compensation, more than equivalent for all that has been lost, in that
it is more closely united and through this wins new powers; and
henceforth out of its own capacity can venture to take up the struggle
against every irrationality of existence, and to advance its own
well-being without constraint. A life is therefore evolved, conscious of
its limits, but at the same time active and courageous.
In this manner, then, transcending all subjective opinions and wishes, a
distinctive social culture has arisen, and its growth and results are
clearly evident to us. Through combination of forces and through
diligent activity on behalf of one another, and this with the aid of a
highly evolved technique, we have brought about a magnificent elevation
of our being; necessity and disease have been successfully fought
against; the standard of education and the amount and kind of joy in
life have been raised in many ways; in life and suffering men have been
drawn together inwardly and associated together with a greater degree of
solidarity. If one accepts the creed of the socialistic movement in the
narrower sense: that human society can be placed on a new basis and at
the same time raised essentially in its achievement, one can conceive
that social culture may grow to the comprehensiveness of culture in
general, and arouse the hope of a kingdom of reason among men.
* * * * *
But here also there is a limit set to things, not from without, but from
within; not from a rationalising criticism, but through the actual facts
of the life of humanity. This limit appears with especial clearness when
we consider the relation of the individual, together with his work, to
the society in which he stands. If social culture should be regarded as
absolute culture, the individual must spend himself solely and entirely
in relation to his environment; all his activity and endeavour must be
exerted in achievement for this culture--must, indeed, be regarded as a
mere part of a common work. In such a system man could never attain an
independent position and a superior right in opposition to society. Let
us examine whether the experience of history establishes the truth of
this system or whether it does not much rather show the opposite to be
more correct.
It was only in the earliest state of culture, and under very simple
conditions of life, that the individual was solely and entirely bound up
with the social organism, simply a member of family, of tribe, and such
like; entirely swayed by custom, authority, and tradition. All further
evolution was a differentiation and led to the greater independence of
the individual. There came a time, however, when, in contrast with his
mere membership of the society, the individual felt himself to have
arrived at a state of maturity; when he questioned the right of the
traditional order, and ultimately found himself coming into opposition
with the whole of society; his own thought thus became the chief basis
of his life and the measure of all things. At first that may have
appeared an impious break and a destructive negation; in reality, the
positive results which have been thus effected could never have been
produced out of a mere revolt. For, a deepening of life in all its
branches went hand in hand with the individual's attainment of
independence; now, for the first time, Religion developed a personal
religious experience, and Art filled man's whole soul; now only did
Science set a distinctive world of thought in opposition to the
traditional presentation; and so the whole of life gained enormously in
independence, mobility, and depth. How could this point have been
reached if an immediate relation to reality had not emerged in the soul
of man; if an inner world had not been formed from this reality, as the
representative of which the individual might feel superior to the
society and, from inner necessities, criticise the prevailing condition
of things? The fact is that all deepening of culture, all awakening of
life to self-consciousness, is a rising above the life of society, a
summoning of the individual to creative activity. Never have real
advances in Religion, Science, and Art, or great transformations of
life, originated out of a combination of the activities of the majority.
Only in isolated cases has an incomparable individuality, supreme in the
entire range of creative activity, been reached, and spiritual tasks
been treated as ends in themselves, without which there is nothing
great. Only out of the necessity of spiritual self-preservation, only as
an overcoming of intolerable contradictions within our own being, could
creative activity find a sure direction and a lofty self-confidence in
order to lead the whole of humanity along new paths. The individuals in
whom this was accomplished were, to be sure, under many influences from
historico-social life; but, to overlook the essential elevation above
the entire domain of merely human interests into a realm of
self-conscious truth, which was accomplished by these individuals, one
must confuse the conditions with spiritual activity itself.
As this spiritual life has transcended social life from the beginning,
in the same way its effects are by no means exhausted in that life. It
has, it is true, exerted its activity upon the social environment, and,
after the initial opposition has been overcome, has often been
superabundantly honoured; but even so, it has been accepted in isolated
and external relations rather than in the whole of its being, and in its
appropriation through society it is apt to lose what is best in it. Ever
anew, even after centuries and centuries, it has attracted aspiring
souls to itself, and has always been able to offer something new to
them; in fact, in its essence it stands not in time but above it. The
more such genuine creative activity and production in all its spheres
become unified, the more a kingdom of truth spreads like an arch over
the whole machinery of human history, and, measured by the standards of
that truth, human standards are seen to be extremely low, like the size
of the earth when contrasted with the region of the fixed stars. This
realm of eternal truth, however, reveals itself immediately only to the
soul of the individual, who must convey it to society.