Skip to main content

Full text of "Albert Salomon Collection 1926-1959"

See other formats

Arz i-fo'^f 





\l a^'fl 


Ak C.((^-^-^ 



^! . V f-' 







BH.! «yjrwfk AMI. KvllMaui. Nun. •»%*n t. KarK». |(or«Mik««««r 


. »** 





^/«y h/4*^4iy]^ 


4,^^fc,4^4-^ A '^**^<«<^**r 

^l^^^f^if^*^ ^^^(^/^ 


^ 4: Ar" 





flj„^ ^^f^-' 

J^^UufCiL <>- Ä, Z**^^*-»/' Ä 



J-t>\t>^'t C»<^p*^ «e- /«./eim»,*-^ X.1^ &,-^rc^*^f "f^X^ » .^ tT^t^ 



/^/^ -z*^/? 


uid -All 

^m/i^ ^.^' 


-<y /^•fu.M.^ 

>\y t^^/U, 

//l^ ^y^ 

^Lt-Jik. Cm^hM,4jt^ /C4^>m>^ 



^u^uy y^ 



i^UC iftßJ^cOuyl^Pf 

'^^uA^u^^tr4^ 4Ä^A^, i^-^ //tf>»^;^ 

^^^•^^ ^A'P^m 


/C^M^''^/ U^^^f ^ '^w^^^^> 

Ä^w^. A-t-A^ -/- ^<£lt^ 

—«6 / 

/tv/£-v-^ eftulcC ^V-iw/o 

j ^A•/^ 



U^-* ^*v^^/ ^^-^ c^^ Cxy*^ 


y z, /*^Vh>^ f 4«'*^'*^/^ 













W 4lL 4«u<<*^'^4^t^4' Jl*^4.H^t^^Jj4»ut^ kL^.^/^l^f'^Ä^ 


m LMi^ L>_ r-^^f ^ 4^' 

jfL^ iiuAcJ'jc 




^ '/ j^ — ^ — -^ — 4 — — f-— — — /U^ ^^'^^^....-^ 


liA Cf/W^ /a /A^fC^tjUc^ 


- A^4k^M <hCU Ah/^«^^ 




<^^W'<An ' ^ "/W 

^kpuJ-'^ t1) 


'-^ A*ht^^ 




1 ^f^-^^^/ ßL^o^4^/l^^, l^i^J^t^^^^L^^f^- 


^•C^->,A^ /C/^i.-i^^L fh.-M^^'^ '^T^i^'uJt^ ^ /^Cu^*^, * i^^^ ^jCC^U^- ^£^i.f<^ 







V .^^g 

^/: / A^^ f- /^-^'/^^ 

M^f I /uLJ^* 

Ut^hL -uy^vur-fu^l^^ 

^■Cu,/ v/h/>^ 

f^49n ^/S 


ßt L^ ku^^rc^M^i^^ 1^^ ^7^>^-^^-^/^cw, ^ -^/^ /:4l^ y4^:^^ 


^^y-s»- T-^i^ 


/'^^^ vt*/4S-r--' 




[ilP*^' ' ^A;^' 

' hcu,*^*^ 






Uj^ - - r^L 

/ULLu.i.uA^^*X-^ A^ C^^s4/u.^^ /(^Uu^^ULy k J/^'^^^^^-^^-y ^ 

7^ <C^ 

Z-^^^-Nl» i' »^ f^ ^ 

Lüjr' f' y 


iL^ jlouA^yj l 



J/ii^fytjL ^U./c4^ 



iC'ii^Uh krnn^ ir<- r'^^^-^d-^Htt^ L. /fj^,.*v^><-"w. 



-uMyc;' K ^t-v^ ^ ^M^y 

^^"^'^/^/u/il^, /^ 




U, /v-t 

r\^xy>^^ U^^ oL' oT ^^^^1^^ ^i--*?^' ^tvC- >»/^ A^-^ /r^*> 








jA^tlU^^r— /^' (^' iy^ljjj^ 

j*^<— '/^/^'/^ 


^r^^ KC^^J ^ 


liijr h^^>c^^^ 

^^v^^ /ju^ uUt^w^/c — ^ 





A} r» A/*t7^Ä^ ""^fi* ^7*^ ^ H > k^ Lö /mt-K-*^, Ac^^*t^*«vj U,^^jt4^ <,^c^(h-*i mt^l 

n^^W'tti^yL^ ^ 

L 'A, 


cf y JidyAt^*^ "^ <CM««».-»/fa)/-n^ 

iA^c.\k.^i^Mf^^ h^ ^^s(<.ff^ 


^C'-t— CX 





^_^ U^ 



'Ui^^^f i/^'^ ^^'^ ^^ 



'V^t^-alWC^Tl^' Juie^>«fci»»>i.:-' , ii ■ mm t^ ^ itfm'^l^* 


-i r4{. 1» - 







V. '„■.ii^- j' ._^ ■■■- ■-■-•J-- 

5 I 

Revolution as Social Phenomenon 

Revolution is a specific phenomenon of the historical process. 
History is the discip line wh ich explains the causes and interprets 
the motives of the agents 


Mrs. albert Salomon 


NEW YORK 24. N. Y. 

TEL. TR 4-2779 

er V"*^ 

ii f , 







r f"^c*.:i 

I 4^1^' le'*<i*i lyKxJ-t^ % H- /It-J:-^ t *^ 6«iiu> v.^ 



/«^.H^ ft K. 

/«t^' c^[-^ <^ (^^tCjh' 


iJri C"*"^ 


J"*. .— - — 






A-^' 7 i-^"^- Cv i»^ 





^C 'UMftj, 






Ju. i J^^ 


- 1kM^^^^M 



.rClK 1«^ 


1,^4^ h^^^ Lm^ I^I^^I«^ /^^ 


1,-t^*^ i^^.^-i-^:^^^'^^«*-^ 

/Ar] ^ /»^ 



NEW YORK 24. N. Y. 

TEL. TR 4-2779 


^wp» aM>M i m^ii i iii i»' 

/htc^t^ '^fi^vcO ^ ^^^ Ihu^'^Ulfi 



.f^J ß 

^ <C hA --/-^- ,u 



^-^ ^.^fc^'^^ 


tt-^'^ — ■" 



iju* f^xtX fe 


I^^JL^^^ -^ IWt 



/ > 

I f 



k (. 



C^^ /^ 









i-^' \r. 





/ f 

.-. ^ 











- 1 





Iv / j y 




'/V/- ■ ß^; 







/ I 







,<x.<.,-o ^' 

-♦:-<. t^M 

r^: 'T 


^../ !:■/,. 


y yLf , ^-d a^^iu^-^A/'i: 

/M yCi '^lA 

74a.m t-^ f^j 

iu -*•- 



ff /-• X.' 




i 't^^ ^:, 


^y^-A-^^W:^/- r/^. 

'-■^ .<V 



■Z A ^ 

/ .1 ^ 

^ ^:, 



/^t/ r.J-i*- ' 4^^[/ 




'< / 

1^^\JL'<kA ^4^' 

c ^ 

^ /^vt:^ 









f^40^C.--^A^M4^-^t /4'^V<^-^^ /.T^ <57^<^-»%'*^ 

du.^^ /^^^ (Uic^A^<^4C-^M<f ' '^Sxdss;^U^^fL,i^<,ftrt^^^^ (p^ <u^)^^ w^i^<^^ /^.<^-^v ^<-<^.— 

'y A^^ 


-— ;«-rr -T^Tf " 








i yC^'^n./ff-l^*^ ' 

^. Ü 




/^f . 




l^/^\ /(^^ d^^C^i^l^ 



JA h 4jr^ 



/ij^ACiUju " f^^'UA^. 

^^t^^^-t ^^^ 


- Ut^ et.^^^:^ d^^CtHÜi^ ^^U^^i 



d^ ^x..«..^/^ v>^/y^/^ 

^€^ fi4 /u^^p^ /U. ^t^<^ ^^ J- 




i/^^^<..— ^ 

4|/d /J^ A^k-'^^^/tsT' 





/u ' kry^rtUn ^ ißu^uj^. f^L^L^ /^f^h 




"^ flA^hj^ff^^O^^ Ht^ c 





-J ^ 

<^?<....j ^J (^ €^^,aJA /^^ 

•*' ■ w4* 

•C (?</. 


.,^^^^^^^/4^>^ . /^^^* y-^j/^e^..-..-^ 

yiyt^ iUt^ /^hcyAK^^ I AU^'/d Ui-^-'V^ ^4tr<^ ^ (^.^^C^^OJfl — ' 

(ju^ iU^ At^ 4^J^^U4i(^Mk^^ ^^^^^^ , 

~ \ 




(f.: / 




I i 







r{/ yfA ' .^ /.Ä 






■iSOjT. ^ 














/ / 

ij' . 





d^fU^ " /(^ iJ, cL B(C fZ. l(n.jL U^/^' 



1- Tz^l "' Tji^tfHjtlt/C K^ ^ t^ IlJ /m ß/fCiC^ iL.^tCct<^ Ll^n^ 


U^M^ M t 

ix.^^ a^j uM (tkJj^J oU tK' K ^^t ^ kUu^i^l^^ .. / ^t l/ht^^tj 

\riLi< JUj i^ CJKAti^ fxp ^-^L^ — L\.U^ 

l\it^\ ^^r f<^r^iM uj/ TtAa^uJ^eK.!^ .^n^^<u— t^^ 


i^t\ayiU<^ (j/j^vt 


f^^ l^ä.^(^^c^j^i/ jk ^ ^wO lu illll^k/^^^ /(^ ^ ^ //c^O 

A^^ /m ffM^A^t^ ÜckV^-^ ^/ /n^M^iJ^l^^jkU^ lU L. // 








^/^C--^^ ^Ot I 






fU^^'^hlli-i^^^u-ih — '^■^ o-i/-/i%^^ 

Hci L^^Ly 



r '* 


/Ulf U^*-{K*^H 

hf*>o<.^ h^'t^ U'-'^'V^'^f^ /u-^ A^-u< M^/*>-<^ 

4-^ i-c^.^^'u^-C yt,^^ 




A»T.%^ y ^'>t^/vo 

^ U-jMcfA-^-uL^ 












-*--fe< . 

,^■■1 ■ ' T riiiwn 

i V» ^-'Vm K- 

±2>?C /^^ 


(/U A >uf(A^ "^ 





Uiyu^^ ff^^J^ 



(^ t^kA/t /t4Ay 

ifn ' /in 




Nt k^-^H,^ A>Ty .Aji: 










i^fl^'^^n 't.^^i^ /t-vo' 

, e^ / Ae^£.<>.\^,H 



z^ /> y> /-3k^^ /. 



I^Uu ^ \ k^. {yC 



>r. T4 






CA^t^ f^ ^ 



/aC* <A^ x»-w^ ^^ /C A /tn'-^ 4y T^M/ -. f<^yh l 




Z — at. 


H/ .W ^^' » c^\^> jL. H^ 

^4pf70u^ ^ 


^^^ ^ y 

^t^N^.^^ >«.^ ^"N^' ^, ^ ^-^ * " ^ -^ 






-^ yLr^ -.^ 

\ /^^/^. 

, CiL^ti (^ Cy« 

//^n^ r 

Ify, /k^CO^ 

'J YJl 



^ /U^^'l^ d T^^^^^cc^'^- 





<1L4,.M^i^ > CU..^l^ 

V'yfU^ - Ali>vt>; rix 

l/W 4 de-t^ 






fit^ r*4^'\^ (^t-zU^üJ-* 

c- t<»^y. /^%~-^t /^. 

Tt^h^lJ^ i^ ^/*Ji 






-/V^UT^ t^ 











i/U4^c^it^ Ja^^jJc^ fl^i^ ^A^^ 



f^ y^ 4.;/» ' 




/ ß ^' ^^^y/7 




h ^ 




Ay^^/^^'^y^ : ^^^^^ A^-^'^^ß^A >^5C^ ^'^/^.^/^>wi^, 

/5il^' /<r 


fi<U J/'^yt^---<'M^ 

■/t^-ya-*--r*<^AJ *^ 

Aift*/ ««*'(>**'-' 


: /-^-^Jj 



Aj-v^— dLf^'^ »<-^ '^/y 

jt^f^-^, ^IjcA^d^-jt^, f ^J/^d^^U^M^--^ *(^ Z;^^^^/'.^^/^'^. 




Gierke hat mit großer Klarheit "neben die ge schichtliche Erfassung des' 
Rechts ihre philosophische Betrachtungsweise gestellt Diese philo- 
sophische Erfassung bildet den Kernpunkt von Gierkes System und den ' 
Gipfelpunkt seines ganzen Schaffens, obgleich ihre Ergebnisse in den 
Werken Gierkes.ddr sich selber nur zu den Nachfolgern und Weiterführern 
der Historischen Rechtsschule rechnete, nicht zu abstrakten Formulierun- 
gen gelangt sind. 

Er wahrt das Vermächtnis der späteren Rechtslel-ire Fichtes. 
Kampf gegen formalen Positivismus und abstrakten Individualismus. 
"Gierke ist der erste gewesen, der mit scharfem Auge alle Gefahren dieses 
kahlen Positivismus, dessen letzte Konsequenz die Eliminierung der Rechts 
idee ist, erblickte und ihm auf prinzipiell Idealistischer Grundlage den 
Kampf erklärte. -"Augenblicklich gewinnt in Deutschland eine Richtung 
Boden, welche den Rechtsgedanken an seiner V^urzelbedroht. "(Althusius,i.A# 
i. Auflage i88o ,S.3i7)".An die Stelle der Rechtsidee setzt sie'Von der ■ 
formellen Seite her, die landgreif liehe Tatsache der befehlenden Macht 
und von der materiellen Seite her die gemeinverständliche Vorstellung 
des bezweckten und erreichten Nutzens". So verschwindet "für die neueste 
Betrachtungsweise, die sich selber positivistisch nennt, in Wahrheit ab'er 
dem fiiaterialismus auf das Haar gleicht die Rechtsidee hin ichtlich ihres 
Inhalts in dem Nützlichkeitsbegriff und hinsichtlich ihrer v7irksamkeit 
in dem Machtbegriff " . 

Es war nach Gierke das unsterbliche Verdienst der Naturrechts schule, den 
den Gedanken der Selbständigkeit und Eigenart der Rechtsidee zumrr, vollen 
Ausdruck gebracht zu haben. .; (daher) die Erhöhung der Rechtsidee über 
das positiveRecht durch das Naturrecht bleibt eine unverlierbare ER- v! 
rungen3chaft,die weder ödem Positivismus, noch bloßem Nützlichkeitsstrebe 
geopfert werden darf." 

Fehler des Naturrechts: Verwechslung von Rechtsidee und Reeht! 
Die Lehren des Naturrechts "waren nicht ein nichtiges Spiel menschlicher 
Einbildung, sondern eine welthistorische Macht, durch die dem Rechtsgedan- 
ken unverlierbare Errungenschaften gewonnen worden sind. (Althusius, 318) 
Gierke sah eines seiner Lebehsziele durch eine umfassende Würdigung 
der naturrechtlichen Ideen den Fehler des alten Kampfes gegen das Natur- 
recht gutzumachen. Ertrag:!) die 2 letzten Bände des Genossenschaftsrechts 
2) Althusius 

Ergebnis dieser Forschungen für Gierke: Festhalten an dem idealistischen 

Gehalt der naturrechtlichen Lehren,an ihrer Behauptung der Rechtsidee, ud 

zwar ihrer Selbständigkeit, die Bewahrung der apriorischen Grundlagen des 
ReBht s . 


lll^fcM*.^ >■ ■ 

Nur die Philosophie, nicht Soziologie und aesohichte sind berufen in 4 
Ergänzung des juristischen Formalismus die substantiellen Grundberiffe 

des Rechts festzulegen. 

Kampf gegen den mechanisoh-atom4stischen Individualismus , sucht 
Synthese zwischen einerntranspersonalen aemeinschaftsidee und einer 
personalen Wertlehre auf der Basis christlicher und germanischer Ideen. 

Lehre vom konkreten V/ertganzen, durch die der abstrakte Individualismus 
des V/ertallgemeinen überwunden wird 

"Sicherlich führt die konkrete statt der abstrakten Wertung smethode 
direkt zur Erfassung des 7/ertwesentlichen, des 7/ert individuellen, sowohl 
im Gemeinschaftsganzen, als in der einzelnen Person. So wird durch die 
Lehre vom konkreten Ganzen des sittlich-geistigen Organismus auch 
unmittelbar eine neue Lehre von der Peaienetogrümdetferer spezifischen 
Eigenä-rt und mit eineKigg'naiction imGanzen. 

Gierke ist gelungen, was Cohen vergeblich erstrebte : eine Synthese zwisohj 
en Personal-und Gemeinschaf tswert, zwischen individueller und sozialer 
Ethik auf Grund des Prinzips d es Systems, als Harmonie zwischen Sinheitl 
und Vielheit, Gliedern und Ganzem, die sich gegenseitig erzeugen und set-J 

zen.Die Lehre von dieser Harmonie der Einheit und Vielheit im Wert- 
ganzen der Gemeinschaft 

verstanden als System der konkreten V/ertindi- 

vidualTttäten,als spezifischer ethischer Selbstzwecke-das ist der letzt' 
Sinn der Gierkesohen Idee des geistig-sitttlichen Organismus. Der orga- 
nische Standpunkt bedeutet bei Gierke den Standpunkt dieser Synthese 
und nichts weiter:es ist nur eine Ausdrucksform für die Idee des 
konkreten ethischen Systems, als Wert ganz em.Hieir wird das Verhältnis 
des Ganzen zu seinen Gliedern und der Glieder zueinander als ein 
Verhältnis voller Gegenseitigkeit gedachtjhier v/erden die Prinzipien 
der Einheit und der Vielheit als gleich reale und notwendige Elemente 

des Ganzen gesetzt. 

Die Synthese zwischen Individualismus und Universalismus auf Grund der 
Lehre vom konkreten ethischen Wertganzen gehört zü den größten Errun- 
genschaften der späteren Sittenlehre Fichte s in ihrem Gegensatz zu 
Kants individualistischem Formalismus und Hegels objektivistischem 
Universalismus (Lask)k 

Logos, Band 

Gurwit seh: Gierke als Rechtsphilosoph 
1922/23, S. 86-132 


l/lOJ^^^J^^'J ■ <^'«—' 



^u.^.^ '^/V' 

^-.ut^-^-^^^- '^■-^fpi^^-)y;r.^ 

hüK H if 


- 25 - 

als eine Folge des Luthertums aufgcfa^st wissen möchten. 
Nur daas freilich IWestphal Bisraarcks Politik als eine Ver- 
wirklichung der FteGhtfertigungslehre(S.294) dem Imperialis- 
liius als einem heidnischen Prinzip feiipglich gegenüberstellt • 
Der Unterschied zwischen Bismarck und der Politilv seiner 
Nachfolger ist allerdings vorhanden; er ist ein Unterschied 
auch gorule vom Blickpunkt protestantischer J^elbstverantwort- 
lichkeit. V.estphal vermag uns Jedoch diesen Unterschied hi- 
storisch nicht greifbar 'z\x machen, er breitet nicht Erkenntnisl 
sondern idoengeschichtlichon Hebel über die an sich nicht 
eben leicht zu überschauenden Wege der letzten Epoche der 
europäischen Staats- und ^esellschafts^^^oschichte. Dem Pro- 
testantismus aber ist erst recht mit mango^lhaft vorbereiteten 
Anwälten sealecht gedient • 

y\ ' -.^t. 



^*-< — ^ \ Ji<^f-ertr<J( tA^i^^/-x^o d^ 


A>,'U,cM^U(jL.^^'^^ f/fiMhä^/*^^*^-^^^^^ ^^J^'t 


UU./^UT^^-^(~^-Ai- ^ C^^^ ^-*^^^^C^^^ ^ /S^ A-^ ^ ^'^^•'-i/^ 

f IC 

"C« — ^ 


lylyCch'ye^ t£>^^ 



U^>irrt/t^A^ M^A'^-'^xa/a^ ^L^^t/J^ 


^U^^ /0>^yft 

t^V</-^ A.^'-txof 

rc-^- j.^ t/^tx^ 

l^ ^ J^^'^^*^>^y^ ^^UrXL 7 ,<c.J^:-A^ 


j^^Ut/^ (fl^M^ -V J^-^hiA^ /7^\ 





riu^ /hAt^d^'^^^^—' 

' ^^c<Ayf 

^Vi^,x.*^A=i«^^/C^-.^i^-^^^>--^ //4^<^y^ - /^Vi 




j^^i..^ '«'^^ 

* i> 

^1lcMi/>^k9f'}-Z*^'U^ L. (fu^-'^Jl^ 


^j^^^^c^..^ ''/^f -M^^yC- 


^ f^^^ i/A-^ h fy^^---^^^'^ 




fU-. -^ 




^iJU^ A»'^ /i>^^— /c^ ICf^ c<J<-^ 










j i^ ^ <- ^^ •• U(-<lLu,-IC/>^7^ >l. (^/^ 

O^^' k^'^»^ 2,^ ^c/t—.^-^- 





ii i^^7/»/^ ^tt^'^ e^^^'Y f^<f^ A^-ff^-^^i^fc^ ^ U^Ut-^^ICh^ Oy^c^i^ 

A^ 1^ M* ^ J' 





/ßofUr.^f<^ ^r^^-^^Cte^ /c.*^Xt^ ' 


>^ Uihiyh^ i/,^ h^xjf^u^ p-^^<^Uc^(/</<ju / 



JC^u^lr i*k^ ^U^ /-c^y CU^'*>U^-lc>,^ rU^ 






/e^i.^ ^Kir^-'^J UijC^ {ß^ /^ 


l^ f' /t/l^y^ 





^h^CU4, hU^^ /C^ -uf€€cA'jt^^^*--J^ IJc^Jtj^K^ J^'/^ ^<^ <gr^ /h»^,.^^ ^-^ /' ^ ^^^jg^^ 

fi/^ /t^iC^ ^Ci^^Jy^ fU/fo/^ [7^i^^^<uJj^ 

>^ /^.w/ A..A^ aU<^ (h-My^ ^^J~-J^^/H >y^^e--^i— A^^'^-.^-^. 





— /- 

fJc^k/^'-y^ Kc*^ 

f- dc^ JC^^ ftyftf^ ?VtZm^Li>ifA^ ^/^^ß^^^JiiCl/^ ^e-/A^^-^^-^ /4^^ A^€.^..^^f^^^j^ 



4u^6i- Av.^^/^ yj;/v».^-^ A'^i*^'^»^*/<A^ 







y^^u**<%-4i^^ ^* Mt^'^^ilt^*^ 

/Ui t f/YllA^lK fUXtt^ I aU*. -ft^^U'/^ ^U^t^yyt^^. 


- U<UH^y,±^JL 

^^;t*^ -u,^ /Lä/^ : 'V<^ H^ 

oCu. A 

Jfi- /am*^ 

älC^^^ ^*^r; 


ru, Mu.'itJu,'^ ^t\ 


J^IJU^ ^Jyr^^xlu h^ 

/— >A^'^^w./?^^v/*lJ^ 4f/»<<^ 



(. :>«^^«/yt ^^: y^^.^^1/^ 

tr^t/.ik^ / yj 



//^* ^7*^ ''^ 7 />*,-A-^t-'^ 



d^'ßMyT ^c'lllCr^M u^ 


^ phju^'^UA 




^ l^^-Ah /^-Tf^^^-^^ 


U iAUff> 



cJlfd^iU JUi^ /Ir y/^^ h 





/C^'/ — *^ /l^J^i^ kcfciA'fii^^ Jti^ ^dj<''-^,^ 


^<^yÄ^-t ' 


<^-t— /- /c ^i.^^ ^^it-'t-d— ^v4^v^ rh^Z,^"''*^ <C^^^ ^ e/i.X^/^ /" 


4. ^^X_ jfLfytA'^^-^ /'r^jUJ<--c^'^'^^ 

Aw^^ dß^^(i^J^ ^ — «^^^ ^ 






^*»--yt' JfrfV^^ 


>^*-».7i^lc^/W/<U^ yl^/t^/l^*-^--^— ^/^— - ^'^^^^<^-^^^p^^/Cc^ 

y f/^ 



^^^t/^" jdLu.^^ 

JU^ (Uu^l^^^u^f^LtJ^' h hc^ 

M ^ ^ /**- -yi 

V ^^^^ J 


hejU^ k44n. y^ Affvi'/^WU^y^v^4U,.-^4^^i:--/^ 





ll jut iv,-^-<fpU:>^ , )u.M /^'^ /^"^ ^^ a^^Uuj^ 


/uf\^ cZZf: 



ü- — 


hUx^ i<^ f^-tu. 

\tM^ /tv^Av- 

LrCui^ ^f^ 1^-^^^ y^^ h 

^t J^^ 


ijU^ • J^ 

/^^ £0-^^ 


L^^/iU^ lUMC^)k^ f^l^ 

tf / (IiJ r ^L^jt^^^L^^^^ß^^ t 

^ llf^ IC ^-pt^ ' l/ jU tA u^^^^ Uf^( ^ 

IßAA^-^Zß^yi^^A.^ /(^ Ak^fnC^^jC^ . ( f W'^'U 






(\)/<^l^^ I f^t^l ^J-CiA^ --l l^nilj \\^iLvdJ^J^''^^ 


'. /^^;^^. xAX^^^Y^ ^ f^'^ ^ 

^ H^AMy/juJ 



/L,/4. fj^,/^ rji^-y^ A^-u. 'C/7 

\— — n ~ 

Ia^ U^ 




/^^ ^ ^Xl^ ff^ (!.>t<^ 


3 /9'K^'^U.^ 




T\Ujh/ (lUA^t 


/^JW/^^Z-^^ {/u^ A^ 



Tm^ ' 




^ /V^tx;^: 








^/^^yty> aU (fLM yu^ ^ il^ / 



J^ J^^ M a/^ U^ l^^M^^JytM (P <iiJl/*^J( 





jl^J-c ^J/M'^ e~^ ji^ ( MA^ ItfM 




f-jO-- — ^ 

Ct^^h^iJh/^ — ' 



.J^jL^h^i^-^y -^/-^ ^/^^/!^.wVK. ^^^LJi^-J)ox 

li'^Q y 4f/^ H ''tl^ ftg^^ UjlL \ fu/V ^^t^ fj^ ^^AxA<^/ ^^ 

^ Hitu.^, fUf 1,^ ^ ^f fif^^ ^_ <i„.^^.^ jt„„^ ^^i^^^t^v-i^'fu^ 



3dd\ - jkicnA Art^^^ y j.,Ay^i^<^j yh^ ^ ( ^ Uc't.^t.^^^.,^ 


z^i ^rvt — ^ ( ^ hM^'^-'^-^a^ 


■ ! ■■' " f '^g ■ 




^ ?^ ' 

pvyfcVVt^v-^ K qr ' y 



il^ ^--v( / (^X-t^-^. 






/^JU^ ^^^hMu /h4K ^V^ 








lt:'0(z::: . /^^-/^^^^-^ - ^-^^^e^z^^r 



Bt^^ (A^^^'xcJt^ -^ Z^JL./^-**-'^ "" y<A^ 





>^VC ' Ä6^ ^ J^^LXc.^ - ^Z ^c/^ß^Uy 






\ m$dt 





/^2^ • ß^c^^t^^'a>C 



^>^^^t^.Cnx7 ^/iCyK't^'^'y^'^^^t^A.^^ 

I / _^ 7s<^^ /**«-* O«««^ ;^ 


^i>y<-c^ / «JJ>«^ --- /^'i.^, O^UJ-t^y^-^ - // 

^— /- 


/üC c/- 



-7 <>-^ iC^xc-^ ; y^TH^ — ^>vx^ — ^'i//-^ 



Lc-t^^^ — ^ «^ 


/^W^*^-J*.w,6--» ^ /U^.^M^Jr^\ 







u h^cc^r-v^'^ ^ : 

><X^ y L^-yT ^v^^'y>Z^ : 

;3c^^ - /./A^Vr^' 



*-Vx^ ^ /^^^<>>^>^ i^ ^ //>u,'U^iA^ 

/^^-»^V <^/i^'*^^v>*--*'Z>V.--— -^ 






— ^ — ^ 

■ . 


.. • 


h ,h 


IC^ Aa- 



/^u A' 

^ /e' ttA.,^j,' c^^^^Lu'A/ 


Oi^ II 

i,„.„fJU -t^Xct" 

u'dU -^cU^tZ/pt,^ 


JlT'Jju' '. J''*>^c^ 



^ % 

n^t^' ^H//> 







' CtC^^-Uo^-ir^ 

il ^^«^.e^v4 4.^^ 









*%<^ /c ^^X_ X^ «^ 




A!u^ 4w^«.vti— «ifsr><^-/>S'^ 

/' o 


Vc^/^M ^ <-u^ 





^-««-C ^H 


/iCr y^ A*^«^v-/ 


/t«»^ (U^*,..iAA '^1 











^Cs^C^ hjbft^ ^ 

V ^^r 



^C^ K^l'UyJhf. h'jU] l C^'^ 

^^<i< 6i.^ t^f ^ty.^ ^«-^ 


— j*" 


//^ ^/ac<u^l^ fc? Lj: ^^/C 







♦ ^ \ 




y /t^^^C^-yfij^ 



A -äO^i^J^^ 


/// /L.W^/^'^^/f^'^'^^^ 














* >^ 








/Ju^^^U^^^ ^^--^^^//^^'c^^^ 

Ui^4ß-<^ ^ /^ f^ Af^t' 


fttPc^ LjjL^/^ 




'^aM^Lc^^ (ft^Cy/^'^ <^' 


^Hi^jrA^'Au-^«^ ^p^*^^^ 


M^', fL 


(Aj>^ ^^^4^ 










/t /-^ 


-> x^^-^ C Jf^'V cc^:^...^ 


l^^u^ 6t6^ 


^ yflt^' ^a--^ ^Ut.^^'.ucA'yf^ 


/Vey VJfi^ 


C^'ju,.M.^ ^e^* 




lf.ju.jrc f)u^^^ t^ €^/fn //^ cuj.^^ Hf,/u^ 



^T'Ät*«^ 4^pv*v-.' 


//Or-^V/^ fU^ ^Mh'cU^^ 


<^C^ ^^'-^'-^^ 

/'♦V'*^ -♦%^ 

C^'H/vi ^iK^ 4a^7 ^' 

^C<-^M-**t^ 2^ ^4^\jt-9^.^ 



Ut^^" /hr 

»O «^ 


W>^ C<^^^^' ^ ^*^' 

u^ k U^jU /v.^i^ ^ 

A zU> 




^ ^r< 




Ä'-^C -^^/4iJ >->^u-. , ^^-t*^ ^ ZVv<^ 



#H.C< ^ <^VM^*/M« 

l^'Li U^t^'^-Z^'f ^ ^i-uc-^ 

'^^^^^U^'M'X P '^^^ ''*^ 

/^ ^^M^^jC^^ «Z-' 

^♦w^* X- A 



^^ i»y^ 



^^A^ ^j^/k/A^ ' 


'V"'? i^^'V^ 



JU^ft f"^^ ^« — ^' - 








Ä^A-.«-!-*-^ AlC^'icJ^ A*»/t- -V 


«v/*^ **>'** 

/^t-nd,,^-' CU^t^iU^^'t, Peft 4^ 








_^ ^ ^„titcA-^ C. T^h^ , *C fi'J/f' ' >'cfi*(*^-(-' f'*^ h^fi*^ 

JaU'f^/j ^JUl^'4^ 4 <;*ÄU/.>-^A^ </i'.^^ ^ 




/M-^-H^U-V^ C) 

cl*cMj*i^h L /^^^ / A-*4^ 

^«z^yi/Ur <^// 




/:^Vi> /<^ /fr» J^^^"^*</^ 

>5^t/i^ yV^i-«^/ -^''<*-*'nV*%«^^. ^^'^ 



^A / /c/^-g^ j^^^^<^2 ^A<^ 


A^^>*V/ ßr^iu4,^ 







^^ ;^.A-^ >f^A /C <:X.^ x^ c^ 


^'f'»^ ^:^ 


^•A ' **<«»- '-^ 








f ' ^ 

/^•v^ ^^^ ^'^Z' A*^*-^, >c^X^ 



<j„.^ iX^A^'W'" 






^•fU.^ t^<K4/C 

7" ''-^'^ 



C^Jf^^ oL 



/l 9U^<\ 





^i^'*-^ /^" *• (7^ 





/-/^K^^^Z /UM'cJ^'^^y A> 

■f : 



T^C^.^.-Jr' t^ ^«Ao 





> At^ ffM^ 


Z^ ^*o 


/^ /t4^y^^^, 







^1A^<*— ' , A^o« ->• <^* „ fiiA t*^ 



h J^^r-C j^^ 


/^•w // 




/ ^V 

■/La^ K^^ft. 




) ^-6^— 







^ A^ 




A-6«--c-^ ^yWu-^c- ufi^Jc^ 



' Cf^p^ f^*X»*i 


f 1 1 ^ 

V % 










'iw^fc^ • no/>Ve^^.i^V 


/^ At.X. 



^ y.--^^/'— X^Ai_^^^*^- 




4; h>U^J. ^^IX*' 


kU^^^ r /v^ <tCh^ • 


/7<t^ fu£4C^ ^ 





(\ < . rT^'^/;': 

^ u 




/W' ^ orr O^ i'/ - Ai/yw^ / , / 






^j^'j^ XU-.4^^ 4::::;^ A> 

C^jlJc» < 

7 ^<vC <^. 




^-f y/,.jU^ <^. 


J^ '/t****-»^ r roi,A^ Ä^ /c,;^^^4w,^ 

f^c/ «- L'l/t"^^ 




^*w^ l-iOf^e^ /(U" A«»,'^^^ -< 'Z^nc-Kr».'-^^ 



«^^^^--''v. \^^'^*-7 f^f^ 


/ U^^«^><>^;t 



I, )(^ UMliui^^ß^'* 


i^M^J-yj^tc (^^iujro;*^ ^ /(^/t^i^/u^^ 

yt^ Tc^t 

^*^^h'*- j ^f^ u^CtjtJt^'^ K^ ^M^'" — t. A^ 

fe *ii ^i -^ **y 







•x^i^w-^ -^ ^ ^/^//C I 


v6 c^ictU^C' 




l4*M^Up^ «t**^ 

'{■ /»O t^ A<^ U^ /4^^A,*^/0<Ä^Ä»,Ä-t.-,-. 


t^c^Un^ J^ 

ll UtyvY*Ut>P€.^i^ X^-Ct^ 



l^L^fU/i^ \ HxIZxaA^ 


\^f a. M^ 

/<, A^ 

• • 




/)^ ^'^<.<^ dUo <£^ «A^ /-«^^»^ ^ aAi^'^'^c^ 




.*^h (^-(Ä^ 

^-^ U*^^ f^ 


.1 ^f^^ ^ 




/'^'t:^oJi J^' A 



\ ]\/tAel<JL J*^^2i^ 


^BU— -^ 

i^^uLA i^u. -k-^c^tr^^f-h- ^'2:r^ *.>«■ 

/ ^ ^ 

I i'*l^:cM,...Jir ^ ir^ir^ /^ ^Y *^-^>- t..Jc^/^^^^ Z/*^^^ 

/C^U^'^i^ ^ 

-f- ^'^'^^ ^'(f*-~^ 

II I "i^ /"^^^ — ' 



^ \ i/ta- C\ H^jxyu 4>- ^>^ • ^^' 


Ij fctl^^^ß^u^ /■ 


P ^^c/Clr- ^ H'<-M 



J ' Uc'iL 



f r^Cu^ 

^ kjCA^*^"^ 

iry^ f^cA^ 






U^ A^ /C- CiL t ^u- s.<^f<^ — ^ 

Kl^ iM<7uJ^^hjui^-^>y Y^ 

lu-^^vJL^ A^U 

\ ^ ^^^aXo iM-Oi 

'"■■f' y 

n^ß^d^ \ J^ 4^c.,>w^ / /yjL^ ^W-v^ ^^ ^^ jti^^ 




- ^^^w, <^v^'A^ ^ iMLC»^ui^iJ:l:fr^ /- i^/^A^ *^A^ 7 /; 



kHuotüT'J^ ■^'-^^*w<2,*A'< 

— /l 




^-^A/^ ^M>->t /^'^-^^'fi-^ n>^' 


U'hZ /<'*^ 








^c-**— * 





r^-4^«^ /:U:*^ 

Ä^i.^ t^-C"/; A«- A^X/ <-'AiLl^e^ ikcj>£^S*^ 

> '^' V 




f / ^ Lf^.*y,^''f 





CtM^*^/^ /"jr^ 









y /u*^ÄWi^ 




A-^^ z,^ 














f>l /,^f-/ 



_ _ Lcj^ -VU4^.^A^><^ 


/^ It^a^L 



'T r tr,%f( 



f eUchr^ t^i^^^ ^^--^^^ -'^/"-^ 

^[^ f. 

Ucfu^^H^. ^ ^^^ca^^ 4<^ 


'^•'^/'/^ >^ 






^<v*^ %mM^ j 





"^a-'/<^ A^ 


i^ -y- 

i^^J^a..^ '— ^ /^ '^ /"^ ^ 

h(j^c.'t::Lj^ ^<^ /L A.^<i--2 6^-/ 


/S,;^ AlÄ^^^Aw^ /cr^A^T^V^ 







^t-<-4 r 

r/I*^ ^Vli— ^^*^^- 


4iJCCZ^<^^^ Ä^<<:e • 

C(ji^ k^jt^t^ <sd6^u-«-^-«5' 






ttA«<^»yU4^ djL^iA4</i 









ifO' f fc/.' <r*<* 


f 2. 




A/tL : /(^ L^-^r A-y-^^^ f^ ^^f 




rC^ 2<-' t^^*^ — 


t (^^'^ - ^'^/t'h A^*^ ■ -^ 



JVuMfiKc^iJ^ ^ ßyi^^'^^f- h^ 

k^UJUj^,..M^ ^- ^l^<^ 


ziCcO /^' 

^.*'^^'<6*c»/i '**'i^^»^ 

Cj, f^/fyJ^U^^ 





yJUXTc^i^ ^ji«^"C^.v^v^2.'^ Ct^ 


// /» 




rbur^LA "^ 


Ui/'^KX^^^i^Ly Xif^^i/Ljf 


//U^H'tu^/y^*^' p fP^X^iy 





A. /^ /^u^ /h^ ///^ ^..-^^Y^^ 


/*— y 


6Iuh4^ • ^<^^^^'^-^ 





l^Uc^ - A-^v/oi-'A?^/<f. 


Jh/^^JT^^a^ ir^LjJ^UJU^Jhy I V.U^y*MfvU^^<>-A 



iU^A' — 





i,..,UUt^ f-/-^<'f''^-^('^^^ 

7 Ci/^ ^^t^ A'H/tA\/V<A--* 

a^yy^i^' lyU^L hU2^ / ^^ 

f^cC^'l^/y (f. A<-7 C^^/i^^tJ- lOl^^ -p^^rX/e 

a^Cc;^ Ä^t.-/ — r<' 




/Cc /^Ua^ — 'f^ ßCv^CZz^ 


^jU a^'^Wcßi^f^^^^^ 

>L^ U>^ • 






_ ^vJ^^^V*-^" 



C44^/^ /^^^•^^t/%^ 






y/'c^- ;^ -V/ CKP-' 



y, y^ßj^^^-^f 



'^nU^ — 



. V. ^^t.>w^ 


.».^^>- V:*''^ 




(CUa**^ i',t-^^<«*i-t — 


x«***-'-^'«— - 

/>^ /<L> ^ A'/4^ h^h^ u^,^ /^^^ 




ä. uA.^^ **^'-'''*^/^iM-»_^ 



i- h-'f 

y^it>/^ y^ 



ZcA^ « 


^.^^^.uc,^^ tuL^^^y 



CP f/i/U4jUt<^^ hr^^^'^^''*'"^^'^^^ 


lUh^^' ^^C6*v->»^>^-^/^/^'^^'^- 

ÖU*«^ l/l^ ^/jCU^ 0^ 






't h 

-i» bt^ ^ h^ >*.<*^y ^ ^.^ ^/v.; 

• 1 

/^ / ^ ''v^-^ Au>u^^^ ^>^ Üfi„^-'^f*t<0 "^^SC-» 


ifC^ V^*.'^^ /ii^y*^ ^y>^--t>v(.-^ %y '"^""''^ A^<^^^6,^.^i,^^^^V3^^ 



/ (f^^^-^^t^ 




lU^uyi^ >^ A-^^^ (U;uxu^ /^ {^A-^^A- <flu<y-u^.^-,.<^4~ ^ '^ ^'"^^ 


/^'' /^A^^,-^ 




^ U^-sA^yUZT/i^^^ ' 

i^/^U^uA^iy "^ ^ 


^^.•^ Ä/C^ >X/^ {M\AM(n^ f- ) 




i^fct^ f-zLu^ ^ (fZ^t^^^^-yy^^--^ 


^ ^ (m-^^c.^ /l--f iirKh '^ ,P^ 


^ ,A>->- 


(/y^^^uCc^ ^ A-»^ /i-t^ Cm^JJ-^ 





C'4>. C-^^^^Ji^c 

/<^^^^ /^(7'fen/)'^' Ä^ />t^ ^^-U-'^^-^ ^ ^^^*^' U^Ji^ 




A^>^^— A--- /'^-^■-^c^ 


f3Ci ^'^^f 


^ ^^^^^ 



•^t.vW' ^ ^H^^-jCA y^^ut^ 






-^-^^^ Ich'-^k //^.^6^ /^ 














iu. IruC^^'r ö^ 4v<^^ / ^^~^'' 

f\t^ i^''' 'i ^^T^-y t«-t/u^ 

CC /^-A^^ -^^^ *^ ^ 6c^.A^, 



// ' >/i.-rVlVv/C^ 

^V*"*^ ''"— ^ 


'^l^ ^4/^^ 


eyCiA (xz^ <A^,^^ 

r I ' I 


, ^^ /^lu^/4<^' r ^^^--^ 

t^ 1:^ lf,juu^ L^L^'^ ■ tC^jM-^ /*^f^-^'-'^*-^ 





CxJi^^^<t^M^ ^ ^^ ^ 

l^^ /f/oT^/l^S ^/f$^6^^^2^y^^^ 


-e^r^ ^c-^ 


^\^ A ^^ '^ ^ 


^Tk- / 



" / <<^ Aw>t<.^ ^^ 


/^ / l\le.otAt:^ 

/ f f ^ 


I f 

' U'^x^C^^tA 

Avö/ U(fCÜ 




k^li/2i} *r(J Zl^ A^^^^^ruA^y^' C^^ L^ ^ C^ A^^Ci*, ^oX--//^^*'^-«^ 



jdV^^^^^U MA h^ 

Ah^ /»u^^w^x^C' 


u,^J I*! t:*"-^ 'i '^r-^7 ''«^^,^ ^ 




1i t 




Ly <C>| ^<jpg»» » .V^ 





U h^ ^i^n^^J^^ 

Hj^ /<Ao- - ^^^ ' 

( . 



/t.»- h^ 


/^i^'^^-vw-^ ^« X^ 



-^i^- ^*t^ 


XU^UjL^ äfi,(^(<r ^^^^iUn^y^ ^^ : 2^ >^ 


J>^^-^ (l^y^ (</- C^^f^^ ^ 

^J l/<^ 



tuA — • 


^ Uyc^j,'^^ .'/^y^J«-^-«^ 

^ y)<^o*^'^'^'^<^ f 4.Ax^ /u^'-y^ 

ltK^/U^ 6>ifui^ VUi 



(/"^"^^ . . 





ifoi"- a( 

i^^nf hu^'UA^ /U~(jyu 


6t^ ß^ 



/\ . ^ '^^^['^{Lj^J^ 

uiA^ r 


^pki^ / fy l^'IZ 

y U^u^'y/:^^^ 


l^UcJ^c^h /^r^JtCyyt^ 











{^ pl^uiZ^y^^-4^' 

fyPL U U. 



^^^^Y^ ^ >C'^ 

/-^-^ f 

'♦ ^ ^ (y)C CA 


H^Qoc/^JcLA' i. J ii^ifAy-J^^ 


^ ^Uvn'^^-<1^ /^"-^^ 




^<M/A^ /^y^' ^C' 

yfc6r ^>*-o«/- (Aji-(M/h>-^ — 



h^-^' 1^ AajlX^^ 

'^</K\/^ ^^^^Wc^-7 /W^W^ 









i--t-t-i ^[^ 


^ ^"^2 



A • ^^^*y1>vx. 

^^-y^"— /£ (/Jljt^yU/ C(yihi^ Ao^-^ 



/ *<i >l ^^^»-^4^/. ^'^^ 

/o ü^ ^ ^^yC^ A^ 


W^Lc^^-^ yf 





/ .^---^'^ ^/^'/^^.K^.-^ 

^^ lu(U<AJ^ ^ ^<;«— /'^^' 


^.c^^^d^^ i ^ 

/ .rfxi- J."«-^ 

^ "i^^tX^ ^^' /J>7' 


j / ^. I/Cl^i/^^^ /\M'^JL^ C^ ^ C^ c^ J/lA/^^/^ c/j 





C^'hZt <^l^ 


L.^tri''^'^^ ^ A^/--/^ 

r\ • / iLuJ^j^ 

./C /^ 

U^^C;^ ^^ ^A^^^r^J^ - ^^^— ^ ^^^ 

l'^^^x^' t^c-^vn V^ 






/- /4^-^ V / ^'^-Y' 


n^^h a 




^ ^^'ff^ 


^Un'i^ ^ 




•'- LpCot^yv- 


^ 4^'^ 





^ f(AA/^ /d-^^/' 


^c >^'x. ^ /^ 



^^X^ ^^>^ 4^>n^^ ^^T-^ ^^. 








^>' ^e 

^-^H^^y^^^ 'X'O^' ^ /^^u^-uf.<.t,Ä/U^ 




^ fM^ 

lUf<^%^ cd/^ i^ kXu>^-J^ : h--f^f ^ fj^f ^ 

>• A^ 

(./^\ /^.^^^~' ;^-^^i^^ 




^ yh^tyyt^ /' ^ J^^-n/- i^^^^-v/^ k^<L^^^y^j 


} I 




xl.' ,'A^ / J i^i^'iiU^i 


f Y" 





o^Uk^^xX^ /i^ 

-^ A'^i>^/^6<>-»/ /c6^'ij^^ 

/^O^^x^^>^u^^^l^Jpu^Cl^t^i^^ "^ 





■^./^/A^ ^A/^^'^-^ ^' .M^nU^ '/^a^'^'^^ 





/^d^f. flÄjU>v..J^^ \ Z-'^^W^'^yC-c ^ 

< ( 

^ZU^t ■ >^=J>*7 


Kc^ /^ /^^ ' 

OUt^ — ^ 



3 ^^^^-^^"-X-rlr^ 




Sec^ (k^ l^^i^'^^^2>^ '^^(^^^'y^ ^- 








IU.yA^ I JhcuJjJ^' 

n^ — ^ 


Q "UUct^ 



\JL^u^(L^ /u^V-T^^'^A'^*-^-«-, — 7 

A i^^*.^ 

l/>- U^tu^^ 


^ ^ 

Ju^x^ IcJ^n 









^ AotXi /i^ ^ /tf >» 

4^ ÄAJtt.-^^^^ 6^.<^-n 

f^^i t<^^^ ^^^ - ^^/ • (^^^^'^-^f^^^^^ ^^(^i^ - 

: /<i*^ .«^^ A^t^^yo^ 

\ -^ >>*x3 C^^Lß^^h ) 




^ ik> 














jr^jU^ VM't--^ 

^^vC^ u:^^(^ 


Ic/tk^ f^ ^fic^'^^'^-^ ^^i f 4^4:^^ 


t ^^'/l^. 

/nl ßfi^ 



- ^^/At^ -4^.^h i^ (vih^cA^ /Cv<y'0iH4Ul'f ;^44^Hvc/e^^ f^^/^U^^/lT' 

^*v^^/ Mjt^^pf-^ 

lUUct pCyUyc; ^UJk 


^ 4^^^ j{< ^.' 

ix.x^UJ<^Ai\ i*l^i-hy i(L.sA^l /''/i^-v^/tA' Ar>vÄ^w<^ ^ /^ ^/^*i/c/^/i^ — 






fjC'yi^-y, fi c ^/«v /-"^ 



J ^iM^-^^ 

TM^Jk/^ ' L%lluf I^U , lU(y^^UJ ^ %l! : > ^ ß\'i^Odi/[f{crp\PQ^ 




/o^j/^A^ Jlßj^^l^^ (^2UvC^ 





JUf^Av^fi^^ / Cl^ 



^ AcoC^<.ti>^ (ik^.:.. ^f<-^f^ 







/C i^^i^r^'T^'^ 


It^^c^ ^ 






d^ iL//^h J< 


j)/^^ hAJUMjUJy (r<(JU,^/U^ l^?.^fUuJcA/ Jf/<^^ /'*ti '^ /t^/<>^U^]t^ 


/^^>«^>t^; -2:«^ '/^ , ^^{;^i^^^ 















Uüf<^ 'c^t^ i^^^^ Vf% '9l-^^^ T^w^ \ 



A^ Ü^ C ^.^l<,^^^^ ^^l.t/<^ iUil^l^^ 


0^J.^s^ 4 h/wjuj ^A.^^?^/ ^ ^ - 


H^^^LÄ. ti) ß^^to^uAh^y* 


^'/L',^"-^ %(/^ 









^^ -ccJL'S^-n^f 'pH^'ff^f'Q^^/r^ 







4/<e^//^Cf/^ ^ •l^'O.^r^.J^^^'^ ' ■^1^ ^ ^ TY'A' 




Jio/^ 4^ /(^ /h^ J jL, ^UJy^ 



'. fUpf€if,Ut^^^'-»'r- 







, - /u.-^^ 

-i ' 





f/^^-t^ (A J^i 


[kjA^^ kißL \ id/Cu^.w<^^]h \[o/yi f^ cM^ j^i<Ac^^^Q^ h<J^ 





////c//^^^ .^>^ '^-^ ^—^)K^^^ 


';^ p<^r f^A^'/" 







txJ-^rt^cC^Z O^ <^*nx^ 






^ iyCxA<^ 




CUi^ ÜC^ J^^^r^t^ 


fdc^<<-<~ i<^ j. 




h Word^jct^-^ 


H/.i'u^'U^' {^^■^^ l')t 


pUi^ f-/^^- 

/in/^^^WH - L^ (m U^].^ ^ M^'-^y^ -^.^---y/^-y^A^^ 




A f I 

'^ij~i d iL 


h(r^ — 

pchiJ*^ /J<^r.~t^ j.'iJy 

^Ä^~/-^ /icfk/ h >^A ,^^ yWn^- 

9n.,AAj^L'lf^ f A-/^ U^^^^ 



^ /4A.^^t^=:^^Jt^ 






/ l^nZyu(yi' ^^^*^ 

/oU<il Ua^'M a/'/(c iM4^ ^f-f^^ 



n^ 4 

/>v/^v^><^ Y^l^^i^ 




f" Joc>'^Ji\ß^^»^ 


/<--» <:^--^ i^'f 

(fc^U^ /U^cJl^ ^V hi<iUL/^^U^^<- pNi^}^t^A<^ iCc^ 




o^ pi/' 


hl ^«*^ 




'-t-M^/i 4/ z^ Lj'^ /On*^ f^^ /v ji4^'ßtxCi.j ^ i,k^jt^(^^tty%cJ. ^'/?L fiitvi-.^*^ 


^/•■-^ # A ^^-^^-^ /- T—lty^f^i-c^ 






H^i-py I t'» 

•^ /4--f/., 

> * 

4 ^3.//V^^ 



'Y t 


* 4i' 





^i/f-w -^i 









jUu^IlJ^' ciju 





'^C: ■ j 


— A^> .' ' ' 



.' / 

/rh / 





.. ■ /i 





r Lj 












' / y y 



■yy'L't^ ^yl 

^^fc^uA^^ f ;^^ 

Uci^- ^ ^/^U^^^- f ^^ 

/^ ^f-^^ A^ ^^"-^^r ^^^^>^ 

«.-V /u^ 






Jx^^rt^t^^ ) c^y-ü'?'^ 



/'ßc^< /--'/^^üy^-^^ - 

■^^ /!> 

2(^>.^/<^,^ yk-w.,^ ce<^ c^^y*^' ^^ ^ 

llulU^\ CL^,h$ Lln^ Ll^ Co^ l (^>-L^'/-r ^v^t '<^ ^:t*w~y. <l<^Miyf'^^ 


(^iW ^ /Uc^'^üß^ /• UriUczJ- ^ ^U^^t.-^^ ef- Ci^'U^C^^^^^ 


t/\jhCo^^^<^^ / 






ilL^C^LkJ-^ (T--- ( n^' 

A-. A^oT^ 

:^jr l^Uxji l^ll^lf<yi'(A4fC>r\ l(^US 











/iL-^<rv^ ß/TüJTKj^ jCcT^ /T^^^JH ^^ ^^ /^ 




» t 

/ > T/U.<^^Xtw /l^ i7t\&^ f CbU C/i^ pul^ }- ^ Uj f.4A ^ hiU/^^^^''^^ Iv f^ 1^ U^ ^^ll^ ^^4^^ ISIO 



(C l^ljitt Oiu /iiU</L^^>^t^J^ l/^'hv^cl^i^ ö^Cxtxlr ^k^ l^Hi^ Onul^'ou J ^ -uU'f^cns^ hityxjcjy ^^l^^ 

'^^^ fy^CJf-^^ 


hrK<^ (^<M * - /^^ >vf gu>wc^ l^^Lr^M t^A^y^ ^ 

^^k/it^tyU^Ky • /6cv^ V6 j(L^ ^ J(x ^ )t>3/^C<^ WW 





/ Ay /^ Wt /y - Y^'-^ ^ Cen^c^f^ 

yCH^^^M^ k hLAJrM^i^jr H^kjJirrt^--^ ^ /?A;-^/>^f^^6t^Uv>^ 

L ^>A<^/ (f2^ d/j^yi^^ 


^ tl' </u ßl^ <^<^*^^-^ 




^^UH-i^U A^W-./i /^O^hr. 


rjrvfuj • 

^«:*-^/A^t.-^>- A. 4*^Ä*/<«:'>^^'«'/^'^^ ^<*fj^-^ M 

/ ^/L^ -uj*^*^ 

U L 



/U- hLk* J 




^ CeA^:^^^ 


/>vi^^ l^iLt»<^-^C4,^^ 

iL Ai^ Ui'^-f^ v^>?^ 

_iu^^^t^w< A iA 



^^^^^^ fl^ JLti^ />tv^»<^>»^ ^ A^/<^ fl^l^^ i/^k^^^. 

rli^f^Lu^ ^ 


^^ f^J/^^ Ua'Ii^ 

Ji^ / ^vt^vc-wf yJ /^ ' t^ ^ t^ dUt^M KiT /L/X^f^^^ z/u^iffiy ^^M A/^^ 




^> ^ i^k^ iA,^^^^^4^i^^ / /fijA.^<^^ rj^/f^hd^J^it/^/^^^ tU^} 

^1^ /C Lfic^ j^t-^^cy^-i^ ^^ iM^uu^ 





.2-^ /^ 1 it/ A^^r v^ ud^iH /^-dfju-^^J^-^J^ f f^J^J^f^ 


7x^/^" </ L^ Jk^^fu^ ItMru^ fy A4. i^pt^4d.d ^ ht^i^'^^^ffi^ 

^rr^^Jf^-L^JC. / ^^^ Ah^tj^ 

/4*<^^4u:^ ^/^ ^!U^^^ 4/^ ^ >V ^v^Vt-^A^:^^^?^.^ '•^^ 


/(^ ^^cj^mi^^^^f^^^^^ji^ 






/Ld^ fL~<ft L ^'^^ aUml U. ^y 


i U/^h-1 A^ ^^*J f *"^ ^ ^^ 

\ vtt^-C**<^C,*UA/*tJU^ -^4*-^ A*f- U^h-^JiL, 

fi.ij: U Ujr ,u,<^/^'t^ k^^*-^l*<*^ f /4t^/.«u-^ <^A Ur.*^ dl ^ 


A-^V'Vu»*6r-'*v»' ^ C^f^d^ f* ^ptti^ /tjLu4\A^^ y^.:^«V^.r-^ A 

4^-y-Ha«>«i ./«(»„^ ^ /A^» fU,H*^4Y 





^Lk^d-^j/^^-r^- 1 

^JptAX hi^U Ti djiXfk 

(TtL f 

H(^(^ ^^Udu ^if)a^J^hidiLC(^ 

y ^^ y /HcC4.a 

•^ ^ i'^ 


^ liAli i^Ux^^tr_^ z^!L2:!^<^ ^^^ 

£// H^L d u^O^'^M^aM^'^^^^^ 

4^^y v/^^^ 



/ IL^ - -tiA^^ y UI^^aIc^, 

^ ^ 



f AH-^-'->C-'y^*- ^A*' 



kU/^An^^^'jh /w 

tJ^'fC 4C*.><y^f*7^'C^/Us4^ ^^Pt^^^'^TJi^^ 






^*lr7vj0Uji j iCmt . ^Jt^fc«^ ^* 4. Ä.^ ^ l^ifdi^, /%«H*<*-7 ii^-i^^jui^ ^^ '^^ /i^^<jA^^ 4^4^^^ fy^ : 

4^y^ (^ry^h*^ 4^4^. i^Aik^kjLf mj^f 'Ut'firyu, d MfiU- i ht4^jik^ €>h44'^, ^J'cUß^/a.t.u^xJl^/Cj^'^^^yt^'cL^ /^ 

iC-AJf^uuii ^Jfic. A-..*-^'w^ ^ /C f>y*cxL A^*^ d^/^t*f9 ItA-^^^^-^fL^uUL^ 




OJ^ I^^^j^CaM i^'i^^^Af- -f^-t^^ /^C>'/%' f^'^'^ ' 
/uJL (L.f(^ ll^yJ^ , Jh jifUcf^^^ ^•'^^IrL^^tc^r^t^J-*^^ u^/h^t^'Af . -t^' /Z^'/t -^ ^'^^ ^ /£S^^^ <s4^-c>K7^^ ^AL^-^ 

[/cliirU^ ^^A— ^ t^/i^t^,,^ ^Li^pc^^At^ /^^ (L/ud//^y-H-i -tzr-/L^4.M2 -^/t-^Ä^ ^^7 ^ <2^ ^ZH^'ftfcC^^ 



• 1 


Ai^ lAUjey^ JU i4f^^^^^^ a^A^i/Ur»-^ f- ^ccAx^Lü^^MKy^ fiß^K^^^/^S, 7KL>/^/^^:^ /U^^^^/U^^ — ^^lj^<.^/-^^^ 

Qy li^l^'^ Ür4^t S^'H^^ 

S>^/i^ut^yir hr^vr^iLCx;C\.i^*fC»^ llil.ij^ t /^^.^^ ^^ K^ Ut^^i^t^i^^c/-^ U^u^Kju^vvC^ ^rK'^i^OKß^ - r/^ Ut/n^ /^ ^r€.^^^ 




La.,jL^ jf<4^^<^ o^f ^ ^ U/^-*^ />niÄ.-^^>sA^ 

^yi^f'k^cuv^ iff/". 


/v tcC^'^'-^'^'if^ /^^^A^^^^*-^^ — " 

Mi^ 4^- i^U^U{/iAj- 


Üpu^^ ^'^^;fS'zc^^^'^^^2-^^^ /6..^/t^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ h u uA0^jZ — ' 



CxA^<^ — . 


/^/6^cM^/j/^j^ ^ ^ 






zjj^/hO^^jJ* (?hA^ (n^*^jl/^f^''*-^'<'^T^A' /^c^'U^ (^'f^ 


f<^i>/ff4^'i^'i^^/^ ^^-t^ ^>^*^^^^ /^/^>>^/^^r*y^ /<--A^^2-^w *f 




/:/Ld^'-'<Ht^'^ //y*^Uu^^^^f c^M- ^i.^ -t^^^yn^*-^-^^ /L^ 


V'V/ /u-^/i*,*o A' 



/i{A>^t^ ' 

^{^Ur'x.y et ^ — '^X^^^^^ 'fCi.^i^ 'i-wK^ 

/ife^>_^ CL /i<Ä yU^U^t^^y^yi^ 

i/'^/f ^»v*- 

4— T^i-^^^ B^-^^^ /^-'*'*^^<^<^l^u^i^^^'<''<<^^/*' /^ 


^^„^'»-vyXy"' .^ 




^'^^j f '7^^ ^4 r- h^^^^j/^/'^^l^'f 



'•'^f ♦t-t-t^ r 


^^^. il^-^t^^yC^ 

/y^T^'^t" a. ^ riA^ 

^^.^J^^.^rlM ^l^^ //if- J^l^t-^-^ ^^C 

*}Af^ i^ Ac<-^ 





4^ <^ 

>A^^>*^«-^^-*--<"V— '* 



'Av^yc^ ^ji^-/^ 





L^^*l<^ ^Vf^«4t<-w^ 


^■'^M^j j 


/^ L*yJ-^ 42y*'y.X.^ 

^u^lU^f9«M^ ^^^ vf<^^^i</t^^ >r4N!.4r;/Äi— ^^Ä-^^^-A; U./;if€U aM^/u-/LdAxtu, 

j/t^ i4 a^ 



tc^4rn^ OA flA^f^ l^ 


Jfi> Äw^;. 


' .. 

Q\ Ay' 

r>%^^ Ia^^-Ua/I/i, , / CLJ^^\ JU^f2^ d ^ huUi^^i L^ . /^ ^'--^ lUokA^ru hn.^^ i>i (^^J^yjM^^ Ml/L^^ 

/C Cf2i^4.^AcuAj l^n -^^M^^ fhKT/^.. OUJ...JL A^ U ^äJ^aA^ ifJi'^^^fki/^ 


.^. AMtl^^f/j^^<^) ^idu M^-(AM^At^l d/i^juJ-^Ji^J^^ 


hljui^(M.jJj(/^i . //hj^ääfrL ^AA..^(/),aMV(. . 'i^ IjUU.^1^ (^ (U^aJ^^^l^U i^ J ^ifir^/^ihrJ 


^/ 6»v.Ct^^ 


(Kc^ jL6.u^^jk.L^h^£A^Llhj Lcyu U^L-^^ h Utr^K a. 

fU^L, ^/<f 






^^«^^^f/c^w-«-« • 

/aU^t-^^L V^M^^yuuyT'l^/^I^L . ^^i^Ay4//^/-/^!f^^ Hr-Jjt^it^-h^ /u/^ hu/r 


H^^cdß^ U^^ic^/(t^/fyt^'j 



vy "- 





fii^M^ , Ka^'c jf /5 • 




Hli^**l 'U^ In^ß/lhi-luy^ U^KAcJI^^AJ O^/JA^lIyrTL ^Iri^JT- 


4..-6^f«-v(. /^^ > »^(^ iU/^ lin^(^A'.■t*~'/^ A^^~J~-pr^ A-^44j,u:c^ä i^H^ (W-/l*_4*<: ^ 


/4^ ^Uy-^ /^i*^(,Ä-»t^ii,^w 

4^ /tc-'/f^Ki!^ . 








/t>»^ /6 U>/x.^^ 

fv l.c^^4^' 





/.•A»/c^'/tv~>' , /U/ jLru — ^ ' La/u^cj^/^^^^^'^^^^ I" U^/^-y 




^ — ■« I ■ 111 » 














/L/Jcr^^\^, "«^ >4.Vl«-wi^<**>*vV^«^' 


ptft^ct^ , 


OiLvlft^ -r ^.*'*%/*^ 

^ / 





7;;:,>^^,^^0^/!^'/^u<4><'^- — ' \ 





^oÜi^/^ f^ , <7 



/UA/^^^f^ H^^^^i^U<^'^ ÄV6A>u^/y6i 


UhMä ^i 

U^^ r^^^ifi^^'X'^^''^^ ^ ^cr^^t^<C^ 






h^ L} \t^H^ ^ ^^U^^/i>^ /J^/^ 


'--'j^t^ ^-' 

TZv ^>t- ^^ 1 ^i-cV^ 


,;..2:^i^/^/*-cA) /ik-^a^*^^^^ A K^j^-c^f- 



'^^^ l-^CA^A^^ '^^ 



/L.. M^ 



jU-^^ A^ lo^^^-^^^f- A- / ^ 

hr^tltjMu^ A-^ ^. 

A-OA A^i^~— <<^ 

/,A^;<'^'j/>^-^^/^ Z^-^" 


/<^^^L..^c^^O^ /y^^<^-^ ^/'^::^v^ 

CUy^AJU^>^^ TU'-^^' ^ 

"fLi- c^-^^^A^ 

t'Cr -— I ZX) y^U^-^ ^lAM^tr-'^^ 

c^ c — 

iCi^'^- — ' ^ 

— /iiZ^ A^ 

A/t^^K^ L 


■ UaJ^ ^^u./^. 


(^ ^yy<<ykj 

l^'oUyUyt^^C/^ /o^ 




4wi /C/.jA^'^^x /^ ■ A-^ 

\/o^7^'t^ /i^/A-n^i?t-^ <!^>tf.v^ ^<^<i! 

i^0-<u.f/O/ TiujU^J^U^ k^ lo^^^^^f^^^^ I 


-7 >^4^ '<Z-/ 

> 5V 

^ "^ i^ 

y S'^f 

1 ^^-u<^^^ 

\ 70 

^ JXy^^^C^^ eUU^^t-u^^ //- 


7^^* U/^y^u U^ 12^ 





;S^*(;4Ax--/4<v6,v^ ^/^ /% W Xi 

yryy^' ^»»^^ ^L^i'^c.-^-^ ^y^ l^'y^""^ 

[r I 











^U^L'y>~^ A^/Li—^ 


^7 A^: 





=-• y^tu^er i-'-i 


ÄIZ C.^C.zi 

. . an. • aJLj^ ^-^ .ui-i^ij . .„-■ ■-i..**i.,^-.-'i" 





Trafalgar 4-3510 




The Hafner Library of Classics 

Editorial Office 

Llay 28, 1948 

Professor Albert Salomon 
Graduate Faculty of Political 
and Social Science 
66 West 12th Street 
Nerv York 11, N.Y. 

Dear Professor Salomon: 

I to thank you for your kind letter of !v-ay 21, 1948, and the 

Taluable suggestions you made for both the"Hafner Library" and the 

^horter Classics ivhich will be officially knov/n as the "Little Library 
of Liberal Arts«" 

It may interest you that your Suggestion number one is already in 
preparation. Professor ITeumann (Coluiabia) is editing an abridgement of 
Montesquieu: Spirit of Lav/s , It ivill probably be ready for the Spring 
sernester 1949. Also Butler' s Semions are \inder oonsideration, but here 
I need some more encouragement. The survey at my disposal indicates a 
rather "spotty" interest in a reprint. Gould you give me an indication 
hoY/ many copies you v/ould need during, a year? 

Mandeville's Fable is on the list of projects of the "Little Library" 
and "p/ill be one of the first titles after the initial list has been pub- 
lished» The first title ( Utilitarianism ) -vvlll be ready early in June eind 
I shall tsdce pleasure in sending you an examination copy, 

I may have some other plans, too, and shall like to discuss the matter 
with you some day« Should you happen to be in the neighborhood of this office 
I should appreciate it if you drop in. If you stay in New York in June, I 
suggest that vie have luncheon together. 

With kind regards. 



jii^j ^ 


.f^l^^^jtk^ II mm _ 





TRafalgar 4-3510 

The Liberal Akts Press 

Editorial Office 

November 3, 1948 

Professor Albert ^alomon * 

465 VJestend Avenue 
New York 24, N.Y. 

Dear Professor Salomon: 

Thanlc you for ^'-our letter of November 1, 1948, and the 
check in the amount of ö5»60, 

Both Schneider and llaclver have received copies of Epictetus. 
Schneider and Kapp have already adopted the title for their course 
in the History of Ideas, 

I like to take this opportunity to thanlc you also for your 
Cooperation in Adam Smith so pronptly and sending me your 
valuable su^gestions for additional titles# I have alread^r started 
the usual survey and hope to have a definite answer before long. 

With kind re^ards. 

Ve ry. s ine e re ly xyours , 




ROCKEFELLER CENTER, 630 F'lfth AveUlie, NeW York 20 • GABLE ADDRESS EsSündeSS • TELEPHONE CircU 5-6400 

March 2, 19 56 


Dr« Albert Salomon 
465 West End Avenue 
New York, New York 

My dear friend: 

I thought I would write you a general letter apropos the "book 
before I saw you Wednesday, thereby providing you with an oppor- 
tunity to think about sorae of the things I suggest and thereby 
raaking it somewhat simpler to talk over the details» 

The plan I have in mind is based on the following factors: 

!• It would be of enormous personal satisfaction to me to see your 
first book with a potentially substantial sale in print# 

2« It would be of great value to you as a stepping stone to other 
things to make that first book a book with a substantial sales po- 
tential, certainly in terms of income. 

3» The more the book is directed towards two markets— the general 
educated market and the undergraduate College market— -the greater the 
Potential in terms of subsequent books» 

Therefore, the question that is primary and must be answered 
first is, *'What book will do all these Jobs?" In my mind, at the 
present moment, only one book satisfies these requirements and that 
book would be a history of social philosophy, with clear-cut limita- 
tions and with an effort to make the broad thesis on the broad line 
rather than the particular thesis and the particular line. This book 
would meüce possible the elimination of the American sociology, It 
could be unified by the selection of key themes and key figures; and 
would be a magnificent introduction to a field in which no book 
actually exists. As a background v/ork, it would provide the avenue 
to more specific and more detailed subsequent works. Purthermore, 
it v/ould not be so unwieldy that it would take infinite periods of 
time to write and produce» 

This is my thinking at the mcsnent» I hope you approve« 

With 29v 




Maroh 23, 1956 

Mr« Rudo Globus 
Simon db Schuster» Ino. 
630 Pif th ATenue 
New York 20, N.Y. 

Dear Rudot 

Enolosed are two rough outlines whloh I have made up 
for you. One Iß on the hiatory of soolology, the other 
on the Problem of the indivldual and the oollective. I 
thlnk that we both agree that the book I will wrlte should 
be a drfiunatio book, and for this reason I feel that Prob- 
lem of the Indivldual and the oollective Is the more Inspir- 
Ing of the two# If we do the hlstory of soolology, I am 
deeply oonvlnoed that we will have to Inolude oh^pters on 
the Itallans and the Amerlcans In my outline« 

Pleaae look over the two outlines, and let me have 
your oplnlon. If you have a specific outline In mlnd, please 
send It along* 

I hope that you and Lucy are well 

«r.«)-.- :«iiÜMK^ 

Sincerely yourst 


Albert Salomon 




May 9, 1956 

Pr. Albert Salomon 
465 West End Avenue 
New York, New York 

Dear Dr. Salomon: 

T'm sorry for the delay in this letter, "but I am 
certain you will understand. This has been a rather 
pressin£; period and only yesterday did I finally ret 
a Chance to firm up all the elements related to your 

Everything has v/orked out v/ell. We are all niost 
excited about the book that you have tentatively titled, 
"The Dramatic Book." Wallace Brockv/ay is anxious, ready 
and willing to go to v/ork on it and a basi.c work T)lan has 
been developed. I will call you on Friday to set up a 
date to discuss contract. 

The v/ork rnethod we think makes the most sense has 
been developed along these lines. You will write the first 
manuscript, entirely spontaneously and without concern for 
Problems of literary elegance. As you complete the chapters, 
they v/3 11 be turned ovor to Brockway who will rev/rite them 
completely with a view to creating a style which will inake 
the book totally accessible to the general public, etct If 
the contractual terms are acceptable to you on Priday, I 
will imnediately prepare a contract and v/e are, at long last, 
at v/ork • 

Hannah made a splendid impression on Mr. Simon. The 
only Problem there is the (^uestion of shorthand. He feels 
that she may not be fast enough for him and that it would be 
imx>osing an undue bürden on her. Love to all of you. 





ROGKEFELLER CENTER, 630 Fiftli Avciiue, New York 20 • CABLE A'DDKE?,s Essandess • TELEPHONE Circle 5-6400 

June 13, 1956 

Dr« Albert Salomon 
465 West End Avenue 
New York, New York 

Dear Priend: 

This is one of the happier moments in our long 
relationship, for it is really the beginning of 
the great work. I hope in addition to everything 
eise that the hook will produoe many times this 
sunount of money for you« 






ROCKEFELLER CENTER, 630 Fiftk AvmiUy Ntu) York 20 • GABLE ADDRESS Essandess • TELEPHONE CircU 5-6400 

March llth, 1957 

Dr. Al"bert Salomon 
465 '^Vest End Avenue 
ITew York, New York 

Dear Dr. Salomon: 

I tbou2:ht it rright be helpful if I wrote you beforo our meetin£^ on 
Frida:- and clarified some of the points raiced by you ir: your two 
letters, one to me and one to TJr. Simon, Unf ort^anr.tely T have been 
under the Impression thsi; we understood each other quite clearly 
prior to the signing of the contract, hut ohviously that was not the 

I will deal with your lettor to me first. Ref erring: to your statement 
that you did not wish to see I!r. Brockway on Friday, you oontinue, 
'»IVIr. Brockwc-.y ir, the editor and is not competent to deal with the 
nuhject matter or the inner problems of the project." This is the first 
time you have raised the issue of Brockway' s competence. He was hand- 
picked, not only beoause he is one of the best editors in the business, 
but also is a scholar of some repute, particularly vis-a-vis history, 
The fact of bis dedication to you as a scholar and human bcing seoms to 
add further Justification. Fe v/as originally givon the task of helping 
to form the book in terms of its structure and to do a thorough rewrite, 
freeir.£- you of the seccndary responsibility of style. Both irieas were 
amply discussed v^^ith you and you a/p?eed with them.. Thoco of your 
colleagrues who publish books with Oxford Press and Norton hardly nualify 
in terms of experience in Publishing and their not having heard of a 
Situation like this only suggests their lack of experience. There are 
dozens of books published each year v/hich are the product of precisely 
this kind of relaticnship. 

You further state that you have hir^d a "very good man for doing a check 
and improvement of the Organization and the text of my manuscript." That, 
of course, is your own decision. I am sorry to seo you spend raoney where 
I had hoped to avoid such expenditure for you. I am particularly sorry 
that you did not see fit to ocnsult with me about this first. I am afraid 
that I could not intuit all of the misgivings, qualms, and objections that 
are nov/ being manifest for the first« 


- 2 - 

As to your letter to Mr. Simon. I ain afraid that it is based upon a 
number of profound misoorceptions. First and forenost anong these is 
the fact that this is iny book and not Mr. Simonis book. Consequently, 
bis undorstanding of some of the points that you raise would be rather 
limited. The socond mi sunderstandin^ arrivos out of a misinterpretr/tion 
on your part of the relationship of publisher to author. Tho people who 
work in Publishing hounes are, for the most part, sufficiently good 
businessmen and are sufficiently rr.aturo not to enter into enterprises 
v.'hich are unjuntifiable in the first place. Your protection of Mr. Simon 
in terms of bis loGing nonoy bocause 'TV'r. Globus wanted to be a friend 
to me" is hardly accurate. I would not have undertaken this book unless 
I feit it was worth doing independently of your needs, enotional or other- 
wise. The extension of this idea in your letter is as follows, "I did not 
see I/ir. Globus for many years. Anc it is a rather paralysing ic'ea that 
y.vs. Saloiron had to die in order to get a contract with you." It is true 
that there had been a breach in cur relationship. I needn't go into that 
now. It is true that I would not have seen you at the time that T did had 
it not been for Mrs. Salomon's death. Any further conclusions are false. 
You got a contract becau3e of ny esteera for you ard because I believed that 
your work had an importance deservirg of whateve".-* efforts a good Publishing 
house ccvJ.d. r ender. It is a rather extraofdin':.ry conmentary on your feeling 
for ri3 and your understanding of mo that you could allow yourrelf to reach 
such a conclusion. I raight point out that I receive a salary that is 
considerably higher than that paid to a Single editor in this or any other 
Publishing house in the United States. It is not paid to me because of a 
quixotic manner of doing business nor of the immaturity suggestcd in your 
conclusi on. 

I»m afraid there car only be one publisher of this book. Both of V7 can ' t 
be. If you do not accept my judgement. my good faith, my intelligence, 
and my oxperiermej then I agree you. should have another publisher. ^^rther, 
if I canrot be totally honest after the years we have spent together and 
speak->th3 truth as I knov/ it, then the end result will be a failure. 

It has taken all these years to get the book really started. You are not 
a great English stylist. Your knowl'edge of book Organization is not, and 
should not- be expected to be, professional. You have had neither the 
experience nor the training. You are not tv/enty-five and do not have vast 
amounts of energy, the kind of energy necessary for the imposition of more 
work than absolute] y necessary. These were the three elements out of which 
I created a formula which I feit would do Albert Salomon complete Justice. 
If you feel that I have misled you, if you do not care for a candid relation- 
ship. if yoi; really do not want to write a book, if you really don*t want me 
to "be the publisher, if you refuse to recognize that Simon and Schuster can 
take rather good care of itself in terms of the mak.jng and losing of money, 
then I leave it to your dis-cretion as to v.hether you v/ant to oontinue ot not. 

I will make one personal aside. You hurt me ir the writing of the two 
lettersj not because, as you would think, an act of kindness has been abused, 
but rather that you thought so li^'-tle of me that you nernritted yourself the 
logical extensDcn of a personal appraisal which v/ould do justice only to an 
im.mature, inadäquate sycophant. I have worked under great obstaoles and 

_ ■) _ 

with no belp to provide for my family and myself . The oareer T v/ould 
hpve jdeally choBen for myself we.s olosed to me« I rrade my reace and 
created iny world. At least ^-ive ime credit for this . If you choose not 
to believe in my friendship, then pleaso believe in my sanity. In this 
way, perhaps, at Jast, the hook will be done. 

Rud^ S. Globus 





Dt, Albert Sal.omon 
465 West End Avenue 
Nev/ York, Nev/ York 

Dear Dr. Salomon? 

March 13th, 1957 

Thank ycu for your letter of the 12th. I'ir, sorry that many cf the things 
contained in it were not openly discussed some time a^o, sinoe it would have 
saved al] concerned unnÖPö^^ss-^y raisunderstandin/^. A{jain, there is such 
inoredi"ble misunderstanding expressed that I feel our meetin^* on Friday 
should provide for a much more satir,factcry future. 

The only pojnt in your letter that I think hears comment relates tc the 
psych ological factors surrounding the death of your wife. I am reff^ring 
quite r^ecificclly tc the sentenoe, "But that you could not ask me earlier 
for the hook and tha-: Anna cou].d have enjoyed that, os.n you not undorstand 
my feelings?" I entered the puhlj.shing business in October of 1955» ^ "^'^-s 
not im a position to publish my ov/n books until April of 195^» I would not 
have approached you about your book under ordinary circumstances until 
Januarj'' of thj s year, pirce there v/an no rooni in our list for additionsl 
contractual obligations until that time. Therefore, my speaking to you about 
the bcok v/hen I did was, in terms of practioal factors, based upon the laws 
governing power rather than any other mctivations. I had extronely v/arm 
feelings for your v/ife, for I think that in addition to all cf her other 
remarkable qualities, she was a supreme realist. V/e had talked scme years ago 
about you doing a book v/hen, if you may remember, I began working with you on 
such a project. And she told me at that t^me that she hoped you would not be 
caught in the kind of trap everybody eise seems to be caught in — namely, 
equating your own strength and virtuos v/ith the cult of politioal success 
that seen.s to havo affected everybody eise, and that when you werc ready to 
write a book that deserved writing, you would do so. In terms of that 
proposition — namely, the true value of what you have to say, rather than 
dollars and cents prestige etc., I have provided myself as a vehicle, nothing 
more, nothDng less. And if you will trust the vehicle, its wheels, its 
brakes, its s teering mechanism, the goal will be well achieved, 

Brockway and I will see you at 1:00 Friday. 

Rüdo S. Globus 

September 22,1957 

My dear I/ir. Brockway : 

Enclosed you find the outline of the book 

which I have changed considerably »though rnany chapters are the 
same as in the previous draft» 

It was my endeavor to make the book strctly coherent and ne- 
cessary in itsdlf. Fürth eriiiore,there is no uncertainty as to its 
goal:a contribution to the hlstory of philosophical anthropology. 
In the flrst draft,the reader could be in doubt whether it was meant| 
as exi3tentialism,philosophy of history or philosophy of society. 
Finally,! did not see a possibility to finish a book of 7/300 pages 

in the near future. 

The outline which I submit to you would make possible of book of 

5/600 pages which I could finish 



Oo tober 19, 19b7 

Mr. Rudo Globus 
Abbott Klmball Co. 
2!30 Park Ave. 
Hew Xork 17, N.Y. 

Dear Rudo, 

T reeelved vour letter of tbe 17th today and would llke to 
have Le o;portun?tj to explaln and Interpret out relationahlp. 

I would llke to begln wlth the la8<> oonol«fi°n fyilY 
•i«.ft«; T Rtn reallv shooked b your statement that I have 

you In splte of our misunderatandlngö* 

upsei. Djr awiuc ^^ „q^ y^g^^ 8ug«ested, and bonestly 

Jn?«;d«S ?o wrlte ?o^oi as 80?n as 1 btd reoelved deflnlte newa 
Intended *o ''^^;« ;? y°^, ,_" »-,■, -nd under doctor'a oare for 
Zl\llls wSr?irrer corpl%iller'atters I bave not yet 

io -.^jusje^ons ror a r^^^^^ 

•xplaiLd to Jou tiat I dld not know the aotual relatlonshlp 

Ko?.!^«n vou and Mr. Simon — and apologlzed. My letter, In 

nf wIJwiB iSenSJi to do you any damage or hurt your reputation. 

3) I am perfeotly aware that you were >»°tlvated by the most 
friendly feellngB for me. I do not rememteer that I refused 
seor.tarial help, but I may be mlstaken. 

h) It IB true that I was not able to prooeed aooordlng to 
♦h« nlan in the preaoribed tlme, but I simply was not oapable 
o? wSmng oontiSuouBlj on the book durlng the aoademlc year 



All mv frlends who wrlte book« are in the »ame predloament, and 
^f^n^unatelv I OB not. expeot a Sabbatlcal leave anymore. And 
Seaae oonflder tSät S^ phjalcal and psychologlcal Handicaps 

for 600 to 700 pages. Another reason ^o^. J^« ^f *J mraStlBfactlin 
after the Erasmua chapter, to rework m^ ohapters to loy *'*^"^^°"''" 
SeJore aShSttmg th,^ to you. ^Ithough you aald that I had only 
to wrlte a draft and not worry about «*yl«' ö"** «^^J^"« J?f "g" 
shlp dld not shape up to what I had expeoted. »Jf ^«^/»'^^ *»« 
my fault, yours or Just mlsunderstandlng, I do not know. 

5) I aubmltted varlous new outllnes because ^ J^^J, J^^^J.S^^^ 

would make for a better book. I was n«y«^,?)ji^^/*JJj"f llTtory 
ht" orlKlnal plan beoause It was a comblnatlon of ^^-s^ory, history 

Sf söolSlogy and of existentlallsm. It was -«y,f f r^^» J^^^^ 
Unes submitted to you to oonstruct a more unlf ied and coherent 


(} I submitted the EraBmus, Pontenelle and Bayle «hapters as 
parts of the book «hlch were based on new fease^roh. Of «ourae. 
I used 30«e of the materall that I had worked of^^f^H'. ^J* ^ 
understood that In Publishing the book, you wanted to get my 
Weas! old and neS. acroBB to a wider public than was reached In 
ihe lim?tB of magazlne readershlp. I do not belleve that there 
was a laok of oandor on mj' part. 

I feel dlsappolnted that the matter has to •"'^ °n thls note. 
but I want you to und er stand that nothing In our relatlonshlp 
Sas meant to hurt you. I feel th„t a great deal of the trouble 
wa> BlSly Sue to ilaunderstandlng. and I hope you will reoognize 

this faet. 

Thank you again for all your ef forte on my behalf, and best 
wlsheB for suocess In your new enterprise. 

Slnoerely yours, 

Albert Salomon 

V ^' 



Y U KO N 6-7 800 

Oc tober 17, 1957 

Dr. Albert Saloxnon 
A65 West End Avenue 
New York, N. Y. 

Dear Dr. Salomon; 

I coTüd not possibly allow the telephone call which I 
made to you this aftemoon to go undocumented by a simple indication of 
yoiir splendid behavior in connection with this Situation« 

This is not the first time that my efforts on your behalf 
have been reciprocated ly what appears to be a characteristic attitude on 
your part towards me anr^ those things which I have tried to do for you» 

I believe you recall the extraordimry letter that you 
wrote to Dick Simon, a letter which I chose to ignore as merely the teitt- 
porary expression of an emotional strain on your part, despite the fact 
that it served to do me great damage and was most \mfair in representing 
ny behavior towards you. 

Without ^oing into the merits of the Situation and my respect 
for your accoii5)lishments and for what you could do, my efforts to put your 
work on paper did not begin a year ago or two years ago. It began many years 
ago when I first spoke to you about the subject and when you first indicated 
interest in writing the major book. Furthe^more, I was mdditionally 
motivated by the fact that we all need money of one form or another and the 
prospect of being able to plead a Situation wherely a substantial amount of 
money would be available to you therely freeing you to conti nie more 
comfortably with scholarly work was extremely desirable from my Standpoint • 
Everything was offered to you to make things as simple as possible. This 
included a disproportionately high advance from the standpoint of Simon and 
Schuster, the off er on my part of secretarial facilities, etc., which were 
refused by you, the off er of a complete rewrite job done by somebody who was 
fully competent to do the same, and arything eise you needed to do the book 
as well as possible. 

I was shocked to discover at various points that work in 
progress bore no relation to your own descriptions of the work, particularly 
outlines which you had prepared and which certainly were not prepared or en- 
forced by me. Purthermore, I was für the ^ shocked to find that where you had 
indicated that work had been done and completed and would be forwarded to 






^ , - 


Brockway, it was not so done and that some notes vhich were obviously derived 
fTom previous articles were used instead of some elements of the material. 
The lack of candor in this Situation created great difficuQties for sie and I 
saw fit not to discuss them with you. I was merely conce^-ned with making the 
Situation as comfortable from your standpoint and as successful from your 
Standpoint as I could. 

When I left Simon and Schuster, I was subsequently informed 
that since I was the only individual at Simon and Schuster who was parti- 
cula'-ly enbhusiastic about the book and since it seemed unlikely that the 
book would be con^jleted within any reasonable period of time subsequent to 
that particular point, Simon and Schuster itself was not interested in pro- 
ceeding. It might still have been possible to save that Situation and I 
rather expected that you would, as a matter of course, get in touch with me 
upon your return from Europe» I had made numerous efforts to call and since 
there was no answer, I assoimed that you had not returned. 

Finding that you had returned, that you had neither called 
me nor written me, and that further, when I spoke to you, you feit there 
was no reason to m^ite me, it seemed perfectly clear tiat cur relationship 
had come to an end. On top of a certain de^ee of Indignation, I am deeply 
sad , for despite the pec\Aiarities of behavior which had been characteristic 
of this period, my great respect and admiration for you and yotir work remain 
undiminished and my certainty that that work needed a much broader äudience 
and needed recording, Stands now as it has always. However, it will not be 
possible for me to play any part in this connection from this point on in. 

Suffice it to say that this is not the first time you have 
hurt me and if it has been your Intention to so do, you have been most 
successful. I hope that you have many ftriends and will have many friends who 
can do for you what I hoped to do for you, because the end is still much too 
important to be terminated simply because of your animosity towards me. I 
would suggest that if aniwhen the project is started again, that you under- 
stand that those who love and respect you have not tried in any way to damage 
you but have gone beyond the path of normal duty to do more and better for you 
than they would ordinarily for anyone eise. 


o S. Globus 



Y U KO N 6-7 800 

Rudo S. Globus 

50 Central Park West 

Oc tober 22, 1957 

Dear Dr. Salomon: 

It was not my Intention to initiate a long controversy 
but I think for the record that some of the Statements made in your letter 
of October 19th deserve coinment. 

As to point No. 1: Between the l2th of Septenber and 
the 17th of October, when I finally reached you, I think there was ample 
opportun! ty for you to get in touch with me, if for no other reason than to 
determine how the problems re your book could be solved« Your tone when you 
spoke to me and your statement to the ef fect that you had not gotten in touch 
with me because %y letter indicated no need for a reply" came as a shock to 
me* It occurred to me that you might have gotten in touch with me in any 

I must point out to you that o\ir Judgment in terms of 
progress being made on the book was entirely based upon the fact that you 
had made statements to me and to B^ockway to the effect that certain material 
was ready and would be forwarded. Such material was never forwarded. In 
addition, there was complete agreement directly and definitely expressed by 
you as to the form of the book« Subsequentlv, I learned indirectly that you 
did not agree with the outline that you yourself had dravnand further this 
was the reason indicated for material not having been done. Had the book 
taken five years to write, this still would have been acceptable so long as 
a clearer picture of work in progress had been indicated. In actuality, only 
one piece of the book was ever submitted« This resiilted in the apparent clash 
with Brockway. 

No» 2: As to the letter to Mr. Simon, I purposely never 
made a cause celebre out of that and your explanation does not in any way relate 
to the issues. I was your publisher and your editor. Any complaints should 
have been directed to me. What you did in fact was to direct such complaints 
over my head without in any way indicating to me that you were unhappy about any 
phase of the project and further indicated in that letter that I acted not as a 
professional nor as a responsible member of the corporation> a position hardly 
destined to ärouse good will among the board of directors. Yoxxr statement in 
the letter to the effect that the only reason I had pushed as hard as I did 
for the book grew out of sentimentality and pity for you in connection with 
Mrs. Salomon 's death^ If this were indeed the case, the board of directors 
would hardly be inclined to trust my recommendations in terms of any Publishing 








venticpe. I just can't belie've, in view o^ the fact that you did not get 
in touch with me and discuss your grievances in any vay, shape or form, that 
your intentions could have been other than to go over my head to effect 
decisions which you feit would be more aatisfactory Coming from Mr. Simon. 

No. 3: As to the off er of secretarial help, you were 
offered everything from tape recording machines to an actual secretary, all 
of which you refused and then in turn proceeded to hire somebody that you 
paid for out of your own pocket. This was particularly irritating since 
it had been my intention to get you money and not involve you in expenses 
which I was prepared to ask Simon and Schuster to undertake. 

No« 4-5 I was certainly well aware of the physical and 
psychological handicaps that got in the way of faster work on the book» 
However, this was not the issue. You simply did not agree to follow a method 
which had been designed to save you unnecessary labor and had you any 
questions Brockway and I would have been totally at your disposal to clarify 
this method. Indeed your letter to Mr. Simon indicated that you strenuously 
objected to any question being raised as to your capability to write English 
and to structure a book for the larger non-scholarly market. I must point 
out that this was a Situation you had accepted in discussing with me and 
with Mr. Brockway but apparently you were resentful and directly expressed 
that resentment. I was not interested in talking nonsense. Ity only concern 
was that a major work ty Albert Saloioon see the light of day under the most 
favorable auspices. From a commercial Standpoint, my interest was entirely 
boirnd up with my desire to make a substantial amount of money for you and I 
had feit that we had reached a stage in our relationship where I could speak 
openly and frankly as a professional« You are not a publisher, nor are you 
an editor» I assumed that you would accord me my Privileges in this realm. 
I suggested to you that the work you submitted did not constitute reworked 
material bit some older general material that had already been written which 
bore no relation whatsoever to your concept of the book you seemed to be 
primarily interested in. Apart from the Erasxms chapter, this was the only 
material we saw and even now I mcust indicat« that before you left for Europe, 
you told me and Brockway you had finished additional material which would be 
sent to Brockway before your departxire. This material has never been seen 
ly either of us. 

No. 5: I think you agreed that the last outline you sub- 
mitted did not make for a more unified and cohesive book. Quite the contrary, 
it bore no relation to the book you yoiarself proposed and departed con5)letely 
from the ideas which resulted in yotir contract. 

I have purposely eliminated what I believe to be evidences of 
lack of candor on yo\ir part. I do not think anything would be served by my 
going into past history which wou]d only hurt you and involve me in the unpleasant 
Situation of having hurt you for no good reason. I think it only fair to teil 
you that it took considerable effort and the use of whatever prestige I had to 
effect your contract. I do not believe that I have been in any way rewarded 
for that effort other than in the form of considerable heartache. 




I checked Simon and Schuster this week to find out what the 
disposition of your bock was« I received a report that nobody had heard fl'om 
you and that they were willing to forego the advance so long as the matter 
was allowed to drop. Late in August I was asked for my recommendations. I again 
pointed out that I believed very strongly in the book and the worthwhileness 
of the project. However, I had been told in confidence that it is the feeling 
of the editorial board at Simon and Schuster on the basis of very careful 
consideration that the book that was proposed could only be produced along the 
lines that I had originally recommended and that since the method did not seem 
to be working out well they feit that the contract could not be fulfilled« 
Since I no longer have any official connection with Simon and Schuster and since 
Dick Simon is no longer with Simon and Schuster, I no longer have any influence, 
I would suggest that if you plan to continue with the book, you contact Mr. 
Henry Simon, who is Deputy Chief Editor and he will, I am certain , give you 
every consideration. Brockway is no longer with Simon anc Schiaster and 
therefore can no longer play ary part in the book, 

I hope you will und erstand that I am not inten t on proving 
my Position, I am merely stating it« If you find it not in accord with your 
Views, that is your privilege. It would not be possible for me , without being 
guilty of a supreme act of hypocrisy,to do otherwise, or to give you the 
impression that I either condone or sinply overlook what I believe to be the 
facts as stated above« That is why I prefer to save you further unpleasant- 
ness by closing this matter, I do not believe that to take any other coin-se 
would be in my character or in yours. 

Rudo S. Globus 



JT t] r/ 





h§^ j^ Hi^^ ^t^ d^n*-^- / ^>^»^ ü^^ ^ Cfft^ t 


,l7 £*'^u. 



"^41^ /u.C4jk^ 4^^^JUM 





li^ //" ^i-d.^(^ A-x-.äv^ 

}fU^/kJL^ fc^L^ /0^trA^C€^^-<^ 


4^ WÄ.*-r 




fi-/^/^<rt.,yU, »^It/)^ 


'/, A^ L>^/u*^ 



^^(^XcJ^^i^^ i4^^ 

-y ^^<.^*--</C-y^<^--^->/i 







"^^tW^/ '^ 

l/<4(4^f jt^^i(^jlM<>^ L- 4^Cc^ 





^'•^f ^l^^-S^J«^^ i^«^u<^^ 










/Uj^ /tMiC 

U^^iL i>^ /LUrU^ . i (0^ 

Oo tober 27» 1957 

Dear Rudo^ 

I have trlÄd to contact 

Simon v>c Sohuster» not knowin 
resigned. I have wrltten hl 
revlsed outline of the book, 
inal ideas* I intend to buj' 
eecretury to take down inj^Sp 
Sooiolosy and Social Psycolo 
be usei in the book, and I f 
at the end of Spring* 

iÄr# Brockwa;y several tlmes at 
a; ind not informed that he had 
m three lettere regarding a 
whioh olosel^ f oll ows our orig* 
a ta:)e recorder and hire a 
ring courae, Foundationa of 
.^y. .-:uch of this n-aterial oould 
eel a fir^.t draft ooull be read|y 

In r^fcrenc^^ to work that I sub^itted, I Juat wantel to 
mention that the Erasmus eh^pter was not the only one sub- 
mittel to Erockway» Before I left for the f5um"^er, the 
Fontenelle ani Bayle ohapters were also ^'iven to hlm, and 
this surnrrer I v orked on the ::ontesauieu and Tocaueville 

As for the res 
can only ^pologize 
to you. I realize 
not kno^ whether I 
ano friendßhip. Th 
the Balzac notes th 
loöked through the 
the Foun'lations of 
good will, I shoul'] 
bußineas Obligation 
me a good frirnd. 

^# yoi^are entitled to your attltude. I 
for eVj?ything I have inadvert'intly done 
tliat I have lost a .xood frirnd, an3 do 
vrlll ever be able to regain your affection 
e other d-y, inlTuct, I used the oopy of 
at you öo painotakingly copied, and also 
Job jou "'id for me on the > acchi-ivelli of 
Sooiology# Knowinfc j^our friendship and 
have known better than to entei^ß Inta a 
» v/hich,beoause of my problems, h^B lost 
I am very unhapp^ indeed» . 

Albert oalamon 




6(^10 N ^ Sc(/D sieK 


jj,^ f?A^2/^^ 

, (M- 2^, (^1 







fl /OTHT^ 

/A/ f^^ 




Tbe Progress of Hlstorlcal Consclousneas 

The Sdence of Man 

The Cnristlan in the mociern world 

a)Erasmua:Christlan Llberty-H ^manltas Christiana 

b)Loyola:Ghrlstlan Obedlence-Discipllna Splrltualls "^ 

The Militant Christian vs.Tne Christian Soldler 

c) Cervantes: Don Qulxote;The '^ero and the Fool In the Spirlt 

d)Gottfrled Arnold :The levolt of the mystlc agalnst the 

eccleslastical instltutlons and the 
functlon of the heretlc In Chrlstlanlty 
Impartlal Hlstory of churohes and heresles 

II The phllosopher enters the unlverse of hlstory as a Student of 
^ — — — — human natur a — — 

a)The flrst studles on scientific historji and of Its agents 

The Interactlon of condltlonning and conditlons 
the identitiy of man and the varlety of rellglons 

Bodin:The hlstorlcal method 

Macchiavel: l:Polltic8 the maln Contents of hlstory 

Its science the tool of the statesman 

DjT^e flrit fftn^lnr? m human d e aftruptivenopo and the clvlllzlng 

effort of hlstory establlshlng reason 


c)Progress of the Mjnd and Identlty of Human Natura 

Fontenelle:^arteslan Phllosophy of Hlstory 

Progress of the M^nd/^eslstance of 
Hlstorlclty of man, subjectlve mean 

the hlstorlcal 
Intelllglbllity of the Irrational 

of men in hlstory 
The curse of rellglon,the happlnes 

Pierre Bayle 
Ephraism Lessing: 

Crltlcal Reason and jfctT]^ moral 

hlstory and the historlan 
rellglon and the theologlan 
the concern wlth God and theo 
Man und er the Law of God and 
The Educatlon of Manklnd 

Ing of 

of the 




II d 

ürandeur and Decadenoe 


The changing patterns of behavlor and the polltlcal 


The psych Ol oglcal transf ormatlons 
The Unfoldlng of Reason In the acts of leglslatlon 
and the constancy of prejudlces and Irrational deslres 
Rationallzation and burocratization In their positive 
and negative aspects. 

III T^aiPstUern of Hlstoriclom and Its Vlctlms 

Th pHllosophy of an age of revolutlon 

The Total Determinism 

T^e dlaleotical method 

The Vision of the blesslng and dlsaster of progress 

The prospects of the total Organization of the 

technoioglcal mass socletles 

The f Ictlon of freedom 

Comte and #arx 

Tve tragedy and frustrat Ion of Max Wete r 


The conquest of historlclsm: 

a)Dlthey:Tve new phllosophlcal H^manltas beyond and 

wlthln the hlstorlcal consciousness 
b) Slramel: The relooatlon of the hlstorlcal segment 

In the process of organlc natura 
The redlscovery of the transcendence In 
the Imraanence of llfe 

Transcendlng Hlstory: 

Phllosophlcal Anthropology 

a)de Tocquevllle 

The human crlsla: 
The democratlc and arlstocr^tlc man 
Th*^ pattern of the socl allst and radlcal 
Tve IfiKÄ purlfled and phllosophlcal man 
above destlny 

Human Freedom and Religion 
b) ^acob Burckhardt:Phllosophy of Hlstory 

• as Phllosophlal Anthro|)o- 

The G-randeur and Misery of Man 

Humanitas of the Phllosopher beyond Hlstory 

The Law of the Indlvl duallty 

a) Montaigne 


Soclology Is logioally and necessarily the pattern of Prench thought« 
It could not arlse In any other country»lt was In its flrst phasa 
the transfer of the raesslanlc dream of the ^Vench revolution to the 
plane of the Induatrlal and teohnological revolution whloh was one of 
manklnd»and not of a nation* 

Napoleoniam,lndustrlalism, solentlf lam and secular redemptlon merged 
in the new and revolutionary pattems of the founders of soclology* 
These new philosophers had established a new type of phllosophers 
They were Inaugurating the age whlch recognized as eilte the socio* 
loglsts as scientific phllosophers who had a monopoly of truth. 
For thls reason they were destlned to control and admlnlster wlth the 
authorlty of the unfalllng sclentlsts the social world and to pro* 
Claim at the same tlme the gospel of secular salvatlon In thelr re- 
spectlve churches* 

It Is a Symbol of an age out of Jolnts that these founders of soclology 
a^tracted slncere and serlous thlnkers as much as enthuslasts,dls- 
lllusloned revolutionär les, social dreamers and radlcals* 
My outline still relevant« 

Emphazls on De Tocquevllle and Donoso Corte s as the conservatlve thln- 
kers among the radlcal totalltarlan soclologlsts who merged order and 
progress In thelr sympathy wlth Bonald and De Mal stre* 
The second phase of ^rencb soclology, the transformatlon of Comte and 
Spencer Into a scientific and autonomous dlscipllne was agaln a deep 
Intellectual revolution In the Thlrd Republlc. 

It Is Imposslble to understand the baslc wrltlngs of Durkhelm and 
Levy-Brubl and the emotional phraseology , If we are not aware that thls 
Is the revolution of the sclentlf Ically mlnded Intellectuals who hope 
to lay the foundatlons for a new lay morality wlthout theologlcal or 
tradltlonallst authorltles. The bliter struggle between the old forces 
In educatlon, the Ghurch and the imperial tradlonallsts,and the new 
scientific soclologlsts as the mouthplece of a Thlrd epubllc whlch 
fought for the Separation of Ghurch and State found Its last battle 
In the Dreyfus case# 

Durkhelm and L^vy Brühl :The Soclologlcal Manifeste: 
for a sclence of social behavior In the routlne of llfe,lts laws and 
rules— towards the Concrete* 

Society not a sum total of Indlvl dual s, the priorlty of Collectlve Con- 
sclence as a dynamlc plurallty of unlted and Integrated social pro- 

Social processes as changing varletles of social roles whlch all 
members of soclety play. 

Social Roles as objectlve/ social facta, thelr subjectlve aspects 
thelr condltlons: collectlve representatlons,affectlons,recollectlons 
as objectlve obllgatlons for actlon and behavior :language,values 
taken for granted such as national, rellglous, economic, social, politl- 
cal , trad 1 tlonal , 1 Iberal , progressive , domestlc , f ash Ions , Conventions , 

The changing hierarchies of collectlve obllgatlons, aspects of solida- 

rity,the relations of civllizatlon and morallty,anomle and the collectlve 

the universal Ity of the soclologlcal method 

philo so phy and soclology 

the Independence of soclology 



euf^a Oi. 4^p9 

' . • • 1 '♦ V '^ 

It Is the paradox of ^'rench Soclology that It dlsoovered the pattem 
of totalltarlanlsm in its phllosophy of toal hlstory and the dynamio 
equlllbrlum as the form of mutual Interaction of the elements of the 
Gollectlve Consclenceß In Its scientific 

V 'Z> .: :. 

■• J 



0% ■■■■:. 



>:. r-:Ae 

e OL ^.^üjT^jo- 


4 t t ."> f..; ,' -f * 


r (-• 

] .\ü*qO''" 

o <-■ 


; T'Ö 





. ^.' ,« >v 

XU •:'?; 



. - j 

w ■ r 7 


) o:. ■ 

,.i !■ 

jf JA •pni,<?f 



JV' : ■■ JjeV 

A ' ' 

;] -' 

. oj*$oiJ|öry 

^ ..ijijuqv. 

•::, :?De OT, '^ 

. ; .^■' '.^pq 

.,.,.■■■•■ v'T.-*Ci -::,:. 


vii it} 

v.;7k*<^*- ■ 


;^ -J 

• .>J 


'-. ' > 

»* * 

^ e;i :^JK 



.J .', 

t l. 

.'V. ^^-'-'5 '''T. ',v. .L .'.'•j i:T'^"^^>P 

^erman Soolologlsts: 

It Is permlsslble to state that there Is no soclology In Germany, 
but soclologists. . 

The cause Is prlmarilii the almost dlcatorial power of Treltschke 8 
convictlon that there is no need for imltatlng the Western mlnd and 
take for granted a special social science dedlcated to soclety« 
It was the general oplnlon of the natlonallstic and reactionary 
Qerman academlc Professors that the science of polltlas oomprehends 
everythlng worthwhlle knowlng of the llfe of man In Its Institutions. 

It was one of the characterlstlc features of erman Learnlng 
that In splte of the remarkahle achlevments of the Hlstorical School 
In economlos and In the social problems of polltlcs »soclologists 
were in no demand and,hence,could not be suppli ed. There was no way 
of learaing soclology In a "^erman unlverslty. 

Soclology became a concern of German thlnkers after Karl Marx had 
fasclnated all thoughtful and responslble intellectuals, 
Marx hlmself cannot be presented wlthout ref erring to Hegel as bis 
greatest teacher whom he loved and hated at the same time« 

I Hegel as teacher of Marx 

presentatlon and reference to Kojeve's 

grandlose Interpretation of Hegel in bis relatlon to %rx 

II üarl ^arx 

the levels of bis thinking 
a)his philosophical writings : german Ideology 
b)Tv,e Communist Manifeste 
c)The essays and books dealing with the Economic Interpretation 

of History=Hlstorlcal Materlallsm 
d) Engels' contrlbutions 

e)Kautsky and ^ernsteln as dlsciples 

III The radlcal and the liberal development of Marx 

a)Lucasz:Ge3chlchte und Klassenbewusstsein 
the reunif Icatlon with ^"egel 
b) Mannheim: collected works, Ideology and Utopla especially 

??????? chapter on Leninism and Stalinism ??? 

IV : The scientific revolt against Scientific Sociallsm 

a) Simmeleffort to construct diverse patterns of soclology 
centered around the idea of a Formal Soclology 
that would escape^the Revolutlonary aspects of Marx 
b)Weber:the bonrgeols /"arx,one of the great hlstorical minds 
searches frantically; throughout hlstory.religions and poll- 
tlcs in order to find loopholes in Marx's dogmatlsm.He only 
succeeds in turnlng the dogmatlsm Into a flexible method 
wlthout destroying lt. He was frustrated because he could not 
give up the foundatlons of historiclsm whlch he shared with 

Marx* .-, - ^^A_ ii. 

For Slmmel and Weber, the problem of arx colnclded with the 

question how will it be possible that the construotlve and 
spontaneous Indlvldual survive the rapid trends towards 
ratlonallzatlon and technologlcal Institutionallzation 

Methodlcal Introduotion: 

Phllosophical reflectlon beglns with a consideratlon of the. 
universe of nature.Its wonders and mysterles Inolte the thoughts 
öf men all over the world.It is only a second thought to Inqulre 
Into the tlny segment of natiire whlch man have controlled and or- 
ganized in order to secure contlnulty and duratlon of thelr sur« 
vlval.The cla^alcal philosophers were primarily ooncerned with 
the truth of the whole of nature of which the human segment was 
Just a small part.Ili hapyuuuG üliu^,Under the pressure of many con- 
ditionSfthe hellenlstic and Roman philosophers shifted the em- 
phazis of the great phllosophies of the past from nature to human 
nature. or to the questions of the Condition Humaine#The Stoios 
and Bplcureans antioipated the Jewlsh and Christian evaluation of 
the indlvidual mind and soul« 

Although the Jewish and Christian traditions contnued the pattern 
of considering man in the universe of a divine creation, they care- 
fully distinguished the natural law and the moral obligations of 
man to his fellow men from all religious authority.They maintained 
the norme of a morally organieed society according to the requirementi 
of natural reason,beoause the State had the function to establish 
the conditions which enabled men to live the moral and spiritual llfe 
which religion postulated. 

The great politioal and social philosophers of the Jesuits were the 
first to have seen distinctly the revolutionary danger of the un- 
leashed sovereignty of the secular power for the preservation of 
the spiritual Standards of society. 

With the rise of the secular mind since the sixte nth Century, 
thinkers baegan to feflect on man and society in a new context. 
Slowly did the philosophers abstain from ref erring to the universe 
of creation as the frame of reference for the understanding of man 's 
place in the universe.Rapidly,did the sceintific thinkers recognize 
the terrors of the scientifioally known nature, its infinite greatnesa 
and smallness.They had become aware of the solitude of the spiritual 
man and of the powers of the organized society which could control 
and direct nature with the devices of the new sciences such as 
matheia tics and physios. 

The growth of the natural sciences is the main assumption for the 
new and revolutionary efforts of human seif Interpretation as it 
came into being in the new philosophy which was called SOCIOLOGY 
It is imperative to see the new pattern of thinking in the devel- 
opment of man 's seif interpreation.^rom the early philosophical 
considerations of man's place in the universe and of the universe' s 
place in the reflection of man,there is a long way to restrictlng 
the universe to history and to its social process as the only ob- 
Jects from which men could derive objective knowledge by scientic 
inquiry and the establishments of laws. 

It is necessary to stress thls point which has never been taken* 
The reflection of the collective process and its unfolding in hi- 
story is a new and revolutionary mode of explaining and interpreting 
human being in the rise of the age of unceasing revolutions. 


To connect Soclology wlth the phlloBODhlcal «ffn^ta r^r ^^4> * .. 

and%c?e"l^ eMorslSrjiSg tas^^^rtne^niS'"'?™^"' Philosoph, 
of a new dlaclDllna Tt ^a« tv,2^4^ ?® dlsadvantages and advantagea 

?J lS\ r^l^firi^^? revolutlon of a teöhnological mass aScIlty. ""^^ 
l^^^Lt 5^adical intellectual Adventure .because It Is the f Irat 

dlJecrtä S.^S.r'i^^" '"^^^^^ ^"-^ practlve and intenda to cJnJrol and 

Tbe HISTOTY OF SOGIOLOGY should be presented as the red thr««,i 
whlch makes It poasible to unlte and to mSe arUculate the mtnutest 
detalla of the Age of revolutlon In whlch we atUl livj todav 
It Is worthwhile to keep In mlnd fronyt the beglnnlng, that the Dollti- 
cal categores auch aa liberal and corJ^ervatlvi, progressive and Sactlo 
nary do not make senese to these authora.The unlflStlon of Srder 

MerI?c?ro?'func??L'r°f JS" °C ^^T''''^'' ^"'^- ^^^ foundatJona ofa social 
nierarony of functiona wlth a borad of acientlflc olannera to hnv« l^"-""^ 

monopoly of control because of thelr scientific ve?ltljrwhlch?h!v 

pos^'?bLi?l:ro^a'L'L??/^'"''"« *^^°^ ^"^^'°p^'- '"^ 

p^^^v; °^.^ totalltarlan Organization of society. 

qaTnf Q? '*®ä8°" l^ 13 neces-ary to stress the influenae of Bonald on 
Saint Simon and the impact of De Maistre on Gomte. ßonaia on 

bamt Simon, the Napoleon of sciences 

a) aa phllott^phy 

Hl &• Mltnoa 

t) as »atWn of aalf • IntaryMtatloii 

2)taiatory of aoelolocj 

a) th« yraoarlous asyaet of a historj of idoao 
by tho prooarlouo aspoot of a liiotorjr of ooolology 
Dnatlonal dlfforonooo 
a) Froaoh 




0ßa pati 
a) BoAla 
to) lloatooqulou 

o) Foatonollo 
d) Bajlo 

2)aooial pattom of ooelology 

a) Hontalgna 

b) Pasoal 

o) Tho Moral lots 


Dorlgtno of oooioioi 

laiiAXootual and omotlonal elrouaotanooa 
aoolal and oooaoalo olroiuiotanooo 
tbo now typo of IntollootMialo 

2}fouiidoro of ioolology 

a) Saint Simon 

l}hlo afflaitjr to Bonald 
8)bia lifo hlitorjr 
9}1ila wrltlnca 

a) Intomatlonal 1 •■ 



b) Tho Saint Sinonian Sohool 

l)an analyoio of tho ooiq^ooltion of its nonboro 
ajthoir oropaganda 
9)tlioir dootrino 

o) CI(Mito 

3)hU wFltlnfs 

A)tb« tvo mvp—f of hl« phlletophj 

4) ammuMP 

i)M twmAw 0t M€l«l*ar In »wlUii «pMdilps w 

■ HläL 

2)hiB theory of organlo trolutlon as applied to ßooiety 
3)hls Boolal optlmlam 

3)8olentlflo aoolology 

a) TooQuaTllla ^ « . 

Daa founder of ßolantlflo pattarn of soolology 




b) Solantlflo Sohool of Franoh Soolology 

Dlntalleotual and emotional olroumsteinoeß 
2)polltloal and aoolal olroumatanoeB 
3) founder 8 of thla aohool 
a)Durkhela and Lavy-Bruhl 

Dthelr common stand agalnet moral phlloaophy ana 
for a solenoe of social bahavlor 

aj fiulas of the Soolologloal Method 

b ^thlos q ^r^d l/oral üöTenoe 



l)hla mathod 

2}hls study on sulclda 

3)hl8 soolology of rellglon 

4)hl8 soolology of knowledge 

5)phllo8ophy and soolology 

6) social morphology 
o)LeTy- Brühl 

1) soolology of knowledge 

2) soolology of rellglon 

3) soolology of emotlons 
4)dl80lple8 of thls sohool 
a) Halbwach 8 

1} economic soolology 

2) soolology of memory 


1) aoolology of rellglon 

2) aoolal theory . ^., 

3)relatlon8hlp of aoolology» payohology and phlloaophy 


l}eoonomlc soololoü^ 
d)Davy and Bougle'' 

1) legal and moral aoolology 
o) Soolology and Existent lall am 

DWerleau-Ponty . ^^, 

a)relatlonBhlp of soolology and phllosophy 

4)hl8torloal soolology 

a) Karl Warx 

l)phllo8ophloal theory 

2)eoonomlo Interpretation of hlstory 

3) theory of revolutlon 

b) Dlsolplea of Marx 


i^)Hm9rY ^^ ^^^" Oonaolouan^ss 
2 ) Mannheim 

a)«iv«TOl^^^OA'^ Marx 1 SB 
o) Revolt Againat Marx 

iJÄeber ^ ,^ ^ 
a) soolology of rellglon 

b) soolology of law 


o)general aoolology 


a) formal soolology 
bjsoolology of oxxlture 
ojphllosophy of money 




and reoonatruet th« pr«s«iit. 





























J9i^ji^t»,„^f- Jtc^'^fl 

UCi'J^ fff6C4o 


"^ <<i 


4^ '^^ uKtrxA^k^ 



r Ä/A^ 

/^-^. ^^x^^ 

*.*-vX^ A- 


^**^^*«-«C'^/^/Aw»4^-^^v^ui*v/;^I^ /»wcc..^;^^ \<5v. 

' l^f'-<^^^ 

J inM^»^ 'l f4^'^/*J f^ /^ 



yn^ f^ IaQ4^^ / 

/(^ kJUU^ 

t - (it-^^ ^i^ 4mm^ ^^<i^ ^4 lL4ß<^ "ST ^ 


^.A*jjc/, trr JCJ'^Jt^fiuJC^ ^ /«L- *c^4^*w^ fc^-^r/n^ 







^^f^*c^\^^ ^'tL. L^ ^^ /^ IT /C^ 

f**"^ 4tÄuXiu^ 


4tL^ 9""/^ /(<^ 

^i,'^, /U>/Cy^ju^^ L^U:^', ^t^ 



<tf O Ä/fi-' 

h ^^/^^ ^ //^dJ^^ ^ Ui.\4^/^^^yc<A^ ^^^^Uc^M^ ^^ Ay. 

CUfH4^ /^ /t. ^fO 4- ^A^^U*u/^fiW4^'l%A'f^^l^/C44Z^^^^ 


/^A-O ^'^^U^UiUvy * M/UyvhtuiH^ /^A^c^ 

/Ud^ #«v^ 



Ji^ A^ 

Je-^^^-i^ C /^>^^d^f u.^ 

j^i^ ^h^M^ jtZ^.,^ /C ^^4t/.^^u<o. cj^ 

•^^T^T/^t<.,.<,.(;^4^ 4-^0-^ 






/iL- Ä^M.<<>r^Crr / >^ Aw^Js^*^ >sd^' 



/U>X^^^ /kU*^/i^^^ Ot-/t-^'M^ t^ c/-^ ^ 




A^y^r' yic^ A^/^.*-^ M^'AOJ^4t^lUi4t ^^-tO Mc^ 



^;<^ /i^/i^l^^l-t^ 


IpA^Ujt^^^MJy^^ /Cu%>*tU^ C ^^^i>T 



<^ ^^4^^ jh Ätll^ 

/»»t^ A*^-/y^^> C l^J^^^ >ßc^^ /Cr Z: /€..^ly<^ C/^yjLT^ 

^i4^0^ A^ 4aK^ y/TiA^ / /iw^>v_^ 


Aa^C C€.^(^\ 









41^,.^^ 4<^^,_^ 


•A*yf A^Iv'v-r-'^-,^ <t^\yVp{A''UtU4U^ 



i^A.*-w-Ä*:^ ^»^ Ä,>^>Ä-*6 r<i6^ 


^^^•v-r— ^ 

». » 





iuM^^U ^/<'-^'^J^ ^/^'^^'"^^/^t^^O^-.juJ^^ ftL. 




Poundatlona of Socloloey and Social Paycholosyt 

lOKlcS.the Student of these dlsclpllnes Is drlyen to re- 
nflctonthe Problem of explainlng the dlfferent resiilts of 
tiemoSrn social sclentlats and the old social philosophers. 

iSe speclanzea social engineer of the ^^^'''.^^Zfir^llT^otal 
knowa more of specific behavior pattems and leas of tha .otal 
humin ?eins!the prescientific philosopher knew less oj scien- 
tific ?:cSlques\nd -- ahout the direction -^ control of^ 

-rev%re^ir!hrpl^t'-Sf;rpi?lo"so'S e '??r their Lnstn^ct^ 

h'V^^^TelZirZ Te^^fem^lf thrSUrefe;ent3 which 
^^conditionnlä the human philosophy of the rising modern world 
chlefly.the naturalistic traditions of Pomponazzi, I 

the Christian spiritualism of Erasmus 

-.^.v^"^ ''':t.lrad??fon8''ie?r?Se'to™erstone« of the new_„„ 
^^^.i«?!rf socieS ihicS created a ^riety of previously un- 
kS^rSeraJior'pIttSna and .hence a o-tin-us reflectio^ 
on the relationships between man and soclety.Their concern 
was socioiogical and psychological at JJ« e^^ii^;;^!^,!« 
' — their insighta and analyaes are still today InexhaustiDie 
and a sSurle to the contemporary social psychologist and 

Sontaigne aAticipated Psychoanalysis.F^n^lon^^^ 
lifious paychology, Erasmus and Saint Simon the raaicax 
social analy sie of the miltary and financial worlÄ of the 
modeS sJtte.Loyola and B-ltasar gracia n the psychol ogical 
control and dlrection of human beinga 
The main trends of the contemporary world are here anticipa 
ted without Bcientim^dogmatisma.^^^^^^^^^^^ 


Foundations of Soclology and Soolal Psychology 

deals with türie evolution of social and ps^chologlcal problems 
aa t^ey arose in the age of the rational Organization of state 
and sooioty since the Renaissance. In thiß prescientif ic age, the 
unity of philoscphy and science was taken for granted# 
It ic surprising to see the founders of socio! ogy and social 
psychology establishing the pedigree of their revolutionary 
social science amcng the social and moral philosophera oT the 
eeventeenth and eighteenth centuries.Durkheim wrote hls PhD 
thesis on Montesquieu as the founder of sociology ;Levy Eruhl 
stressed the relevance of Fontenelle and Eayle for a truly 
scientific treatment of a philosophy of man. The contemporary 
social scientist who is conditionned by the diverse patterns 
of psych olog^' and of sociology will extend the sequence of bis 
ancestors to those authcrs whose observations and insights into 
human behavior/i, the subconscious and the ideological character 
of 3ioral ideas anticipated some of the modern theories without 
dogmatic and systematic patterns »Montaigne' 3 insight into the 
necessity of psychoanalysla,Fenelon's psychological insight into 
the true character of piety as an act of disinterested lovetand 
Loyola's revolutionary discovery of the psychological techniques 
of directing and Controlling individuals remain still today va- 
luable suggestions to the sciea tif ically trained paychologist. 

The mcderns can compare their speciallzed knowledge with a com- 
prehension of the total human being in the past.Such comparlson 
might still benefit the contdmporary scholar. 

For this reason thia book is qy stematic in Intention, historical 
in its materifid.It is thought of as a possible textbook for the 
Juniors and Seniors in philosophy, sociology and psychology. 




• Z^wC . 

ft^Z^ iUi^ 



^ ^Lti2 



'tUu,^^^ K'U^' 


Sic^f^Qc^ jj </ & 9,» s^ 


JU^ ^^^. 



• ^^' — '■■ ■ '•'" i_ i r iM-T-lZ-^^nj-ij«»"— "1 rrw— rrir' rn-r^TwiiTi ^iii i<irwwwinM>iaMiMMMMMMW«i*i*Tnnrn w ' ^'~"" i "'" '' y ..—.t^. -^^^— ,-^ ,-^ — *.>*-.>^>— *daa 






l]/^/^^^c^fJLM^^^ik^ - fiu^UL. äW„ ^^^^- y 




>ir$i,4^P^'y '^l^^ 




^lL ^Cc^f^' 

t^AuU^T ilifj f^, f^\ /\l. l^ftJl^^ 

yii't^r^^^ AC//^^/^^^^ ^4&^/^ 









^ _ _ —^ r ^^ X- - 


f^^-/<^ Idjy^ ^ i^s0r JyvL^ 


Jt^ 7?#faa. Z'^^'^^^^''*^^"'*'*^ 

^ '^ 


t*t^/>/\^t^>-^ - ^H^C^Ci^^>f*^ 

^*\0 ^ m» f ^ 







i^A^M A/* 




.if .^ 

^ V - 

. . /.■„ mr— , ' ' """ ' " l I HM -,.— ,1 # 



'jL U->7^^ 

h ^ V 

JuA U^ ^^j^^-»'^'^ 



^ /UvvtU 








l^ju^^U- 4- Icji, '_ 


U%/^ chK. ^1^ 


/Ci^ ^4^"*^%^^ y 

/^^'^ttC^ — ' 

^j^^A^ i4 ^4.^ 

M^*^ ^ £»^ 4»y^ 




A'j^jT f' df 


huY^A-^^4^ /PvL. ^ ^' u ^Lf^ä^^ ^^ jl'J/ /tC^^-^ /h^^ 

uiU jUiüb^ C^l lU^xJ^i 


I Meui in Searoh of Himself 

Erasmus: The Christian Way of Life, Humsmitas Christiana 

The conservative revolutionists save the traditions 
and reoonstruct the present« 

Montaigne: The philosophical way of lifet The Condition Htimaine 

The individual as a concern of philosophy: Mind, seif, sooiety 


The scientific way of life of a Christian: 

II Men in Searoh of Themselves Through Enlightenment 
Fontenelle: The philosopher as individual hearer of Enlightenment 

The progress of the mind and the development of reason 
The Invariable of the Heart and the identity of History 
Pierre Bayle: The individual against superstitions and prejudices 

The individual as moral person — beyond history 

Montesquieu: The Humanitas Spiritualis 

The philosopher as the highest htiman being making 
transparent his prejudices, the universality of 
conditionsy the possibilities of conditioning the 
eonditionsy the discovery of the historioal as the 
Individual, history intelligible^and meaningless 

The rare victories and the frequent defeats of Reason 

III The Beautiful Soul 

Shaftesbuiy: The Virtuose 


The Dilettante 


The Philosopher Poet 



m,- •'' 


I? The Colleotive cmd Hiatorical Society in Search of Itself 

Hegel: Eistorloal mankind as agents and puppets of History 

Marzt The industrial mankind as Proletariat, the executors of 
the meaning of histoiy 

Comte: The industrial mankind as the scientific discoverers 

Totalitarianism and the priests of a religion of progress 

Spencer: History as Social Evolution 

^%%¥t ^ )> 

V The Progress of Solidarity and the Destiny of the Individual 

Burkheim: The Conscience Collectivei anomie and morality 

Tocqtueville: The Alternat;lve of Progress: 

The Dignity of the Pew and 
The Dignity of All 

VI The Free Individual Against the Collective World 

Dilthey: The iiniversality of historicism and the spontaneity of 

philosophical freedom 

Simmel: The conditions of the modern world and the aesthetic freedom 

William James: The plurality of the human worlds, the constructive 

freedom of the spontaneous individual 

Insert A: Nietzsche 

Burkhard t 

/U h> 

u^ l 

hff' t*vi uA' \jC^*yyit^ 


cU^ /LJt^^-^^j- ^'^ 





Tb# Flate of lodern Man In th#» unlT^rs« of M«%oi7 

\rarieijr of hlstorloal •xperl«io#«« 

Tv# ChrlBÜan In t^e modern world 
^raBnuts'hrlatian LlbiPty and H^,manlta0 

Lo^olat Chrietian Gbedlan^^a aa Liberation sExercitla Bpiritual 

CervanteasDon QuixotaiThe apiritual haro and foül 

i:The Spiritual and Slaoular HaroltsTha JPoaeaasaA 



B(K01nf Ittory aa Soiencat u^an oonditlcns and oonUtionning 

ÜB tbe dynamioa of nocrt ol aotioa 
coaxi8te?noe of th#» plurality of 
irrational ity of tha >^i0toriaal worli 
rational ity of oonotitutionrUi 


ontanellai Carteaian Philosoph^ of Historjr 

iProgrea^' of tbe !:|nd»He8istanoa of traditiona and 

RiBtorioit^ of afln,BubJeotiYa maaning of tba 

hiBtorioal oontext 
Intalligibilitf of the iratlonal behaTior of 

hiBtorioal man 
Tba curaa of raligionttha blaa^singa of philoaopl^ 

Sierra Bajrla and Epbraiaa Las ingt 

Tha tranaoandanoa of blatMf] 
Maral Aotion and f^oral Spirl% 

Tl a Natur« of ^an in 1 story 

l'an*B Gorruption by oburobaa and auparatitiona 

lian undar tbe Law of Ood and '^^ralitf 

Tba Fduoation of «^ankind 

turkbaitt-L^^vy «»rubltTbe Sod al Tattam of 'iatary 




saaiology and a aoianaa of «an 
aoral saianoa ▼••pbllaaoplor 
CallaatlTa Oanaaianoa*aiMala and Ih 




- 2 • 

Fortuna and Hlstorj 

■«oohiavlll iTh« «orkatMan mrestllng wlth Fortunat 

~ The Ooexlstenee of dirara« pa%tama 

Hobbaai i^Tlathan and Thuoydidaai Paaoa ovar the Abyaa 

HaTolutioa, Danooraaj.Monaroter-RallslaB 
atOomparative HlstoryiTho Saaroh for tha 
loopholea In hletorloal datarmlnia« 

Tha dynaalo etruotura of hlstorloal oonditlont 

Waber »Tha lorki 

IV Hlatory aa Fortuna 


_ Hegal l Hl Btorloal .lanklnd aa agenta and puppata of iUatory 

^ar» t i>,a Proletariat aa the axaeutora and axeoutionora af 

"■ - the meanlng of Hlstory «»iv«»!-» <w 

Oojnte^Tha Solentif la,|Jan^|^| ., funotlonariaa of th. «t„« 

'In Hlatory 

T he IndlvlA^allty of the Hlstorloal, the i^il oaQoHy of Hlatoiy 

Hiato rioal Anifiropology — ■ — '-^ 

t^cnteeoulauiThe Hlstorloal a.« hlatorlaal praaaa 

irrational though concam of SJ 
phlloaophar.the lastin?, probleEsthe atruagla far 

Tocoyevllloi The Age of the Total Devolution 

?!r?n!5^***."*^''^**''^°»'**»« balanoe of äqual Itr 

Td UrarSaiSo??!;'"^ dlalectlaa of doJaraa^ 

the despotio welfare etate 

borocraoies and the disappearanoe of fra^do« 
the damooratlo and tho arlatoratlo aan 
the tjrranny of progreaa 
Power and i*ra doa 


nilthey t 

Hlstorloal Orlaaa 

Tha Qrandeur rnd «laery of man In hlatorr 

Tha Keaponeiblllty of the ßor,olar In the aga of 

total revolutlon 
Peace of ,nd In the apooh of unlTaraal erlalg 
T^a oonnueet of Hlato; 

Tr^MafTodlng hlatorlola» -> 

i« naw fraadoa of phlloaophy / 

- 5 - 


VI Th« OlalBS of thf IndlYldual t^ H»*.h 

- ^'CiccJ^i^^ 



M^ntalgneiThe Indlvldual at a oonoem of the phlloiopti^r 

Th« orusblng power of aoolal role« 

The IndlYidual rnodifles bis Booial rolea 
JPotentlalltles and reallzatlons of the ftelf 
5elf fM.nd and Soeietjr 
The total humaoi oonetltutlon 
The experienoe of loTe 
Living towarde death 
D^stanoetlonelinesB and oonaoience 
The bleealnga of phllosophy 
Happlneaa and Tranquill Ity of H^nA 

Ooethes The Personality ae Bleiring In tTie Divlne ^ature 

The Goapel of Hature 

l'ian aa part of lature 

Man as el#ment of the manlfeetation of the dlTln# 

The precarlouB nature of man In hlstory 
The CarnlTal of Society 
Heallty and Flctlon 

Tv,e kreative mnn -the perennial Fauat,tra«edy and 


•Immelt The Law of the Indlvlduality 

The Law of soolal evolutlon-Spenopr»Durkhei« 
The Total Relativ las and UlatorlolaB 
The Escape into Neo->Kantian Epiatemology 
T^e afflnlty to ^ergsonU Vltalla« 
T^e £xp«rlenoe of Hu^aerl 
I^e new Philoaophy of Llf# 

RlMl#r t The Aablgulty of Humsn Life 

ihe perennial Identlt; of iian 

Th« dynamlo ohangea in hie Identitjr 

HlatorioflLL Pattemf 

Unhiatorloal Fatternt of paaslons 

The dynaralo unlty of the Condltlon HuKaint 


Oji ^^rn an in t^<^ 

oT Human i tag 

First "art iTh« Christian Kontribution 

as ^^raaiLisao 
anlßtic ^^lety 
r»a psycliologl 

a)^raemuii0^ri8tian Liberty and usanlimi Krasmlina 

^be traged^ of the nioöerate reformer in th# 
conflict with tie fanatical revolutionary 
.he Tri3tlan aj of Life in a Beoiar voria 
The IliilOÄOohy of tbe Ihriat 
b)''*:ras«l«*1nriuen3eti''r:^ncl5 >ie 3ale«: " 

F-< n'> 1 on •/!> e ^lir 

Gottfrlp^^ ;rnold:The mystio a^y^ain« 

!^11 churobeE 
Hugo Grotiußrles Jbristlana 

c)'^ojola Mhrletian ObeUence as tnae .iberty 

nie functlon of tre pirltual rxerciaesj 
Tbe »nilit'iry vranipulation of the Indlvl^lual 
tre disclpline of p jcholosloal rlrcotion 

d)i.,oi?oia'a influencejF^altaser "•raclanjihe Jourtier 

• }^aaoal :TV e r^:odem Cbrietian-pttliosopher-sclentiat 

i'he >^orl<11^' fr^entleman 
The at ack on V e Je^ults 

rte new pMloaophv of Isature 
The new Jhristian ay to üod 
The /Vpolooy of th«^ Clbriatlan '"ieliglon 

^econd Part: Tbe Philoso phioal and Psychclo^Tlaal oontx*ibutlon 

a) ontal^ne»t llosopber of the indlvidual 

The social rolee 

T>e individual between the olaesea and 

THe Inter'lepenlenoe of ortf^anlc nature and 
»ind:oonsclence and consclouaneßa 
Teh human Situation 

b) esoarte» 'paychology and rcral philosophy 

c)Lä r.ochefouoaud.Ija :^ruyere, .t* vr^icond- oralista 
.Montaigne and Deaeartea raised the intereBt in 
pa^(t ological observations and in t> study of 
charactersTtnalyaes of cbaracters as a game at 
Partie», vociological-. 8^ chological patternsj 
tbe oourtler,the diseraoed, tne ref ugee» the stranger 
the ho^^ecomer 




TMrd ^artj Vre olentlfle Kontribution 

a);xacahi^ivell Is.iuiaan ature on Polltloö 

ihe State of politlcs and legislation a» 

tht forma tion of hurrian being» 

Jlagg confllcts abä t^e balance pf social 

Tb 9 H#a«on of State and Tacltismo 
b)l3odln:Theory of Mistory 

Analysla of the elements whioh oonstitute the 
pTooeBB of hi3torlcal*soclal oYan^eni 
the role of physloal oonaition» and thelr control 
tbe role of politlcalTnoral oon«3ition0 

po.vprful,subJect to cbanggeis 
the role of paychologloal conditions$collective-ln* 

divirlu al 
ejFontenelle and B«yleiridlcal tbeorles of histoty 
Hlstorloal truth an i the truth of realit y 
The metbodologioal probleme:probabilitie»fgueo3.vork 

the unsclentific o^ar-icter of InterDretatl : 
Klstory aa bi^:tory of the mlnd 
The poBslbllitieß of scientific laws of cbangee 
Hiötory aß a divlsion of a sclr^nce of buman nature 
The hlstoriö^l .vorld as lungle and labyrinth 
TVie huüian world ae tbe universe of moral norme 
The autonom^ of praotical reason 
a)Teb sooioloüUcal method In the analysls of the contempo- 

rary world 
Vautoan and -^aint ainion 

Theor;^ of stratif Ication »clasg conöclouane»» and »ocial 
revolution^The poor claßseaftbe empoverlahed noble»» 
the olasse» at tbe oourt,the new governing ola»»e» and 
tbe rfionarcb,the diverse rnnk» cf noble» , the ladiee and 
tVe roturejthe difterences in aooial beahavior oattern» 
Saint ^jimon a» feudal *^arx and seer,hi« faacination for 
Stendhal , ' al sao , and -c'roußt • 

e) ibe autboritarlan soclsty iTbowa» ebbe» 

ThucytUdeflsi^be ant!iropolor,ical pesi: imism, tbe crltlque of 

derßocraoy and revolution 

tVe presupooeitionejmaterialla« and aeehani 
tbe State of nature^tbe stnte of revolution 
tbe autboritarlan State anö tbe autononou» 

^^ eociety 

fJThe oolitical ^loniitiona of H^^manitae 


The leitmotlves: The role of the stranger 

The disoovery of social pereoeotlviar 

DespotlBm^love and freedom 

Tha universal ity of condStion» 

ihe tiny Segment of deterTrinin« th« 


The autononoy of establlsbed lawa 

Tbe dialectios of bi6tory,the role cT 

pa»Blon»,tbe ll'^tla power of reaaon 

Tbe lÄWfivf»r and buman prejudice» 

Ihe (üverae pattern» of Law and the 

conflictb of value» 

- 2 - 


Fortuna and History 

ThucydidessHlstory of the Peloponnesian War:The Merglng of v^lass 

War and l/Vorld War 

The meaninglessness of history 

•^acchiavelll :The works:Man wrestling with Fortuna =Hl8tory 

Thomas Hobbeai The Leviathan »Thucydldes translation and introduotlon 

The Peaoe over the Abyss 

Max Weber : Gomparatlve History :The loopholes in historical deter- 


The dynamics of the plurality of Gonditions 

IV The Individuali ty of the Historical, the philosophy of History, 

Historical Anthropology 

Montesquieu: The Historical as Individual, the process ol* history 
■ intelligible though irrational, no concern of the 

philosopher, the lasting problem:the struggle for 

freedom against despotism 

Tocqueville; The Age of the total revolution 


democracy as revolution, the balanoe of freedom 
the dialectics of democracy and despotism 
the despotic welfare State 
burocracies and the disappearance of freedom 
the tyranny of progresa 
Jacob Burckhardt: Power and Freedom 

Historical Crises 

The grandeur and misery of man in history 

The responsibility of the scholar in the age of 


Peace of Mind in the Age of revolution 

Wilhelm Dilthey: The conquest of historicism 

Total relativism in historical positivism 
Historical consciousness-historicity 
History turned philosophy-historicism 
Reflection transcending historicism 
The new freedom of philosophy 

First Part: The Christian Contribution 

a)Erasmus: Christian Liberty and the rise of educated 

ruling classes 
The Christan and the divine ^race 
The Christian way of life in an unchristian 

The sancitif action of the sodal Ife 
b) Erasmiis ' influenae : 

I)FraÄcis of Sales^H^manistic Piety 
2)Fenelon:the psychological revolution 

the fight for the Pur Amour 
3)Gottfried Arnold:The genuine pios 
4)Hugo Grotius:The prinoiples of the 
Christian Human ism in international 

c)Loyola: Christian Obedience as true Liberty 

The function of the Spiritual Exercises 
to illumlnate lay and clercal men as to 
their Christian role in a secular world 
the discipline of psychological self- 
examination and of defining the individuaL 
place in the v/orld of G-od 
d)Loyola's effect: 

Baltasgr ""racianiTheCourtier 
The imagS of the secularized 


Second Part: :The Philosophical abd psycholoä- cal contribution 

a) Montaigne, the philosophy of the IndMdual, 

the social roles 
the total human Situation 
the Condition Humaine 

note on La Boethie 

ß>^\C^ ^ 


comparative study on^ Simme l 'sphiloaophy of 
the indivlduai "^ — > 

b) Pascal :his love-hatred relationshlp to .Montaigne 

c)La Rochefoucauld, -^a Bruyere,St.Evremond-Moralista 

under the influenae of ^-^ontaigne and "'escarteSfthey 
develop psychological observations, inäugurate the 
study of behavior patter^ and of charactera: 

thet rirst analyse the courtier,the disgraced, the 

refugee,the stranger, the homecomer 




The scientific contribution (2) r ^ , l/l ^ */jt,^ 

sociologlst and psycbologist 



the Strang er as 

the dynamic perspectivlBin in the underst^nding 
of foreign societies 

Love,despotism and freedom 

the role of the eunuchs 

b)Hi8tory : 


^eaninglesstbut intelligible through social 

the dialectics of history,the logic of history 
The Spirit of the Laws 
, y /ji'/T^*^ T>,e Universallty of conditions 
^Y/- jJi^y*'^^ ^^^y Segment of determining the conditions 
ic44^,jfJ^ i-^^^ "Äie role of the passions and affectoons in the 
^^ T Ju:^'^ "- GrPfttion'of the wise instit i^t.lfing 

^UAy^^ rare ocoasions of a victory of reason 
^ /A'/'^'^^ The Lawgiver and huraan prejudices , / ^ 

^Jn^c^^ f The diverse patterns of Law /l^ /(<^0^^^ — '^! 

^^ Thomas Hobbea : 

Monte squ 

1 ou ' o Jtn tagonA-s 

<i^"/ A 


The anthropological pessimism: 

anslation of Thucudides and the violent 
fcriticism of democracy and revolution 

The metaphysical assumtions:inaterialism and 

mechanistic philosophy 

The State of Nature 

against the Grotius tradition 

The authoritarian state 

and the autonomous society 

D'Alembert and Diderot:The Enßifilßfi^dJjä-S 

' " * The first attempt to realize the unity of science| 

to apply strictily emplrical methods of analysls 
and in mathematical fields deductive reasAning 
The revolutionary crtique of all traditional in- 
stitutions as in contrast with the scientific 
mind of the modern society 

jlnin-irhiT'V Hnrlnl System in the context of his philosophy 

fL] Diderot: The diverse aspects of his thought:naturalism 

/ ^ atheism,behaviori3m and the analysis ofthe di- 

lettante and the dedicated man of genius 

^ Shaf tes bury :The first approach towards a moral and social 

philosophy which makes the aesthetic equilibrium 
the criterion for the perfect human relationship 
The origins of a theory of moral sentiment 
the optimism of the prevailing vittuous af fections. 
ndeville's counterthesis:Private Vlces-Public Virtues 

The revoltuionary ef fect of the Fable of the Bees 

The Scottish School : Ferguson and Adam Smith: 

■^h^^^uth of the human and social emotione 
the germs of .a science of society 

Third -t^artiThe scientific contrlbution 

» » 


a)Bodin:Theory of History 

the elements whlch constitute the procesB of 


physical conditlons 

social action to control 
these conditlons 

polltlcal-soclal conditlons 

subject to lastlng changes 
social and psychologlcal 
causes, Indlvldial and collect 
ve causes 
psychologlcal conditlons 


hVBaadjg'fl Infiuence: 


c)Fontenelle and -^ayle as forerunners of soclology 

DHlstorlcal Truth and the truth of hlstorlcal 

2) The debunklng of a meaning of history 

Bayle'sDlctlonalre as a new llterary pattem 
of phliosophy,a symbol of the hlstorlcal world as 
a Jungle and labyrlnth 
3) The Remnant:The Happy ^ew establlsh te autonomy pf 

4)Fontenelle's phllosophy of history 
5)Hls fondatlons of a phllosophlcal anthropology 
6) The orlglns of a soclology of knowledge 
7) The beglnnlngs of a soclology of religion 

d)Vauban and Saint Simon / 

In the analysls of thelr social Situation, they d^scovei, 
soclolgical methods and psychologlcal behavlor patterns 
whlch raake them the forerunners of all radlcal theoriea| 
of class consclousness and of social revolutlon. 
kauban stresses the stratlf Ication of classea and 
applies bis experlences wlth the poor classes and his 
awareness of the decay of the country nobility. 
Saint Simon has the grandlose psychologlcal analyses 
of the diverse ranks.«»e[ social types)Sat the Court 
whlch have stimulatea Stendhal and Proust 

yc-^ ^ii-'t^ 


Genesis of M^nd and MorsJ. Sense 

Locke Shaf tesbury Mand^vllle 

Locke's phllosophy had tremendous repercusslons on the rlslng^ 
social sclences and on psychology.Hls phllosophy suggested the 
Interdependence of the social studles wlth eplstemology and 
psychology.Eplstemology constructs the prerequlsltes for all 
branches of social actloji#It opens up an avenue towards the 

condltlons under whlch men thlnk and concelve of the per- 
spectives relevant to thelr own Situation: the orfelns of a 
soclology of knowledge.Locke's approach towards the genesls 
of our perceptlons (psyohogenetlojstlmulated the phllosophers 
and psychologlsts to find the place where loglc and psychology 
meet In the process of thlnklng, 

Hls revolt agalnst Descartes'lnnate Ideas created a positive 
emplrlclsm whlch opened the gates for the French posltlvl sm "In 
the Encyclopödle and for the Scottlsh moral phllosophers. 
In partlcular,hls dlstlnctlon between Sensation and reflectlon 
and between external and Inner soise älrected and detennlne(3 .t 
Scottlsh thlnKers. 

In bis moral and educatlonal wrltlngs,he applles amethod whlch 
we would call soclologlcal. Social condltlons determlne the po- 
sslbllltles of educatlon to some extent« 

He concelves of the Indlvldual as soclus whose well belng can 
be seoured In the context of soclety. 

Shaf tesbury 

Important hls frlendshlp wlth Bayle whom he followed 
In recognlzlng the autonomy of all values as Independent of all 
theologlcal or phslologlcal foundatlons of social phllosophles. 
Hls phllosophy Is a moral hedonlsm.Men who reallze the rlght, 
the virtuous and the good are happy and have human dlgnlty becausi 
the aaplre to the hlghest pleasures, the hapolness of havlng done 
the good thlngs 

Thls happlness Is the result of llvlng In harmony wlth natjire 
Influenced by Stolcs Spinoza and Gloräano Bruno, he acknowledges^ 
the harmony and pulchrltude of the unlverse whlch Is reflected 
the Potential harmony of soclety and the aesthetlc eqlulllbrlum 
man. Under Standing the process of soclety as an autonomous one, 
he Postulates the preemlnence of the oonstructlve affectlons ove: 
the destructlve ones of selflshness as r equlred by nature 
He Is the flrst to analyse the social In terms of the aesthetlc 
the perfect socletal relatlonshlps are beautlful 
Thls harmony Is based on the constru ctlve enthuslasm of human 
nature, he belleves to have lllumlnated the Identlty of social an« 
aesthetlc perf ectlonrlÄ^ral Taste--ls hls new term« 
He lald t,he foundatlons for a theory of sympathjn anä of the oon- 
structlve and destructlve patterns of enthuslasms. 
Hls term Moral ^aste created the notlon of Moral Sense whlch 
became the focus of the Scottlsh School,lt Is a synthesls of Loa] 
and of Std|lc notlons^It refers to the teleologlcal character of 
senses and Instlncts whlch lead \xb toward a well balanc'ed socli 
and Indlvlijlual harmong as reflectlö^ng the mlcrooosmlo nature of 
man and soclety In an equllbrlum of\the unlverse. 



I challended the optjÄlam JDf Shafte^] 
The Fable oif the Böe:or Private Vt^» make_Ei»llc' Benef Its 
statdd the i)e«sl9ii8tie vl«^imen are^self IflMflpDipetltlve aml 


Unlty of soclology and social psydiology ;Scottlsh Moral Phlloaophy 

The Scottlsh phllosophera connected the methods of Newtonisusi 
physlos wlth the tradltions of the Law of ^^ature moral theory. 
They added the results of Locke's emplrlcal and paychologlcal 
approach.In dolng so, they Inaugurated a moral philosopjy that 
was a ploneering in social psychology and soclology. 
Hlstorlcal Clrcumstances:In Scotland the religlous confllcts of the 
aeventeenth Century had created a splrlt of pMltical and Intell« 
ectual vlgllance whclh made Glasgow and Edinburgh te Intellectual 
Centers of civil Izat Ion »The power of the Presbyterian Kirk was 

exerted in behalf of the people against foreign dominatlon.The '^-. 
educated classes fought continuously the reactionary Highlanders 
and the traditlonal British of the Episcopal Church.This precarloua 
Position created a liberal ity of sentiment and a moderate and open- 
minäed way of thinking whidh made possible the ploneering advance 
towards a scienco of sooiety and of man. 

Against the theological and Hobbeslan principles, the moral thinkers 
under the influence of the Cambirdge Piatoni ats and of Bayle and 
Shaftesbury ,assumed the autonoy of moral s merging wlth the hedoni 
of social motivations. 
H tcheson had the merit of establishing the first aystem of moral 
püllosophy on the basis of the "Moral Sense" »He coined the term and 
defined it as the determination of ours to be pleased wlth the 
happinesG of others#Tv,is fact creates disniterested social affeotns 
and makes it possible to eatablish the notion of a special senee. 
This moral sense works llke a focussing conscienoe or like the Sto4 
Hegemonikon.Hutcheson distinguished the natural good as connected 
wlth the pleasure of sense perceptions from the moral good as reteß 
ring to the approval of the moral sense. T^e moral sense directs the 
actions of human beings as to the true functlons in their required 
situations.The moral senseliberates the indlvidual from hia seif- 
centered egotism and gives him the possibility of becomlng the im- 
partial ob3erver,the objective consclence which considers the totsQ. 
social Situation. 

Hume clarified scientif ically the issue of a moral sense as offered 
by Shaftesbury and Hutcheson.B^th insisted that the "other regardto 
Impulses" are a constitutive part of human nature.Bth had accepte.d 
the fact that the universality ,evicence and Obligation of the moral 
Judgment is indicative of a univeral value attitude.They failed, 
however,when they divided the inseparable character of Impulses 
and feelings into selfish and benevolent ones.Hume stated that impu 
pulses as such are value neutral and can have positive and negative 
signif icance according tho the Situation. Hirne searched for an ob- 
Jective basis of moral Judgment in a "univeral prlnoiple of the hu- 
man frame".He called the principle"sympathy2 or "ut 11 ity ".All acta 
of approval and blame are based on the ob Jective frlnclple of the 
welfare and utility of soclety.Hume is still a ploneer in the 
social and moral philosophies which should develop from the schbo 
of Phenomenology. 

Adam Smith started from Hume*s prlnoiple of sympathy as the objectt 
ive basis for understanding social action.He developed systematlcal 
Hume*s auggestions and conatructed a science of Society deallng wHüj 
the variety of social experlences. \ 

As Professor pT moral philosophy,he was required to lecture on 
natural theolbgy, eth loa, Juri sprudence and polltica. 
The Theory of iMoral Sentiment covers the courae on ethloB,the 
Lecturea on JUrlaprudence deal wlth the Law of Natura, the Jleaitli 
Natlona la hlisi work on polltlcs.All books are 8O0lAl|i»lcmi aa >ri 
8 entingmoral, economic and les§3L relatlonahipa ateJ i^Pie aaped^ 
human being aa aoclus or memiter of ao^^etgr 




Smith achleved a revolutlonary m ethod 
by transforming the science of the Law of Nature Into an 
empirlcal science of social causqtlon.Societal relationa 
are the primary datum of human hlstory,they are loglcally prior 
to the instltutioös of politics.There is a natural liberty, 
a natural Justice and a natural common sense which make po*- 
ssible to establish again and again a social harmony of so-> 
clety in spite of all conflicts and competitions« 


\ ./ 



AI Ji-i 

11 0?: 


>ww— I ii i i wi i w lii— »M»wi i i iwi i i «fM^ww|>l>^(i>■^»|■>^li^l^^^^^|wl»>«cl><■»^■ 

3» i j i nWW i U fci i ilHiWMI 

•O<^'0?i ot t 


< j-*«». 


"i »^ 


1 i;;r i 


i Ä<mtln5ent, 


Ol . 


' . - ..; :" 


'^b1 »*• 

^^^ t/ 

. ri- 





. i-UiCt '■ 



•»•1 !';l. * . 


•■•^ ' - :j %. 


■^'BtB mhä 

. ' , ^. . . 

outbi© of jolltlOHi 



^) ' ''"Tot: th''.- ■ ^'^x 

-' ■ ' ■ üf Mi? . 

■ ue ■■ 

and zr vlv:. 

-: ' vlalonjt 


1 , ' of t: 

l3pOf t 

nr)(\ oT •: 1 

■^ ^ a 

e)?he ■— ^**'^- --^^---^ 


♦ *H !.-•• 

':•© L, 

■ - V '-3 f &i -0 


■' ■ - 

^ i ■ > i»- 








S J/L . 

Herrn Professor 

Lr. Albert B a 1 o in o n 

^165 Vvest i^nd Avenue 

N e w Y o r k 24/ li.Y. 

@ STUTTGART w. den 12. September 1956 



Sehr geeiirter Herr Profecsor ! 

Ich erlaube iTiir, mich auf Anreßwa^ von Plerrn. Lr. liliBer- 
mann in Heidelberg an Sie zu wenden. Ich darf in Ihnen einen alten 
Bekannten bep-rüssen , insofern Sie ja anfangs der Lreissi^er Jahre 
unsere "Soziologicchen Cegenwartsfraren" mitherausgegeben haben, die 
leider üurch aie anbrechende Nazizeit dann r^chon nach dem zweiten Heft 
wieder aufhören mussten. Übrirenis bin ich zur Zeit damit beschäftigt, 
sie wieder ins Leben zu rufen. 

Herr Lr. ii^isermann hat mir Ihr kleines Buch ''The Tyranny 
of Progress'' übersanct und mir vorgeschlagen, dieses in deutscher Über- 
setzung herauszugeben, was ich gerne tue. i^>r schrieb mir, dass der ame- 
rikanische Verleger keine Ansprüche erhebt , sondern dass die Autorisa- 
tion der deutlichen Übersetzung von Ihnen gegeben werde. Ich habe Herrn 
Lr. iCisermann vorgeschlagen, die Honorierung in i'orm von Freiexempla- 
ren von vVerken unseres Verlags vorzunehmen. Ich übersende Ihnen anbei 
zwei Prospekte über unsere neuere soziologische Literatur und bitte 
Sie, mir alle wer'-:e mitzuteilen, die Sie zu erhalten minschen. 

Herr IjT. iiisermann schreibt mir, dass Sie aer ivieinung sind, 
das Vorwort von MacJvor könne weggelassen v/erden, womit ich natürlich 
gerne einverstanden bin. Herr Lr. Siserm^ann ist bereit, eine r^inlei- 
tung f'.ir deutsche Verh'iltnisse zu schreiben. 

Sie nannten als Übersetzer Herrn Lr. Lipsius, dessen Adres- 
se ich bei Herrn Prof. v. Martin in [.liinchen zu erfahren hoffe. Ich 
werde mich alsdann gleich an ihn wenden und hoffe, wir zu einem 
Ab s c hl u s s ko mmen . 

Als Auflage schlage ich 1 000 Stück vor, ich vermute, dass 
der amerikanische Vorlag auch nicht mehr gedruckt hat. Unser Preis dürf- 
te dann wohl um LM 10. — herum liegen. 

Nach Ernalt Ihrer freundlichen Rückäusserung werde ich mir 
erlauben, Innen oen Übersetzungsvertrag zuzustellen. 

2 Anlagen. 

Mit den verbindlichsten iiimpf ehlungen 

Ihr sehr ergebener 


Larf ich mich höflichst erkundiren, ob Ihnen bekannt ist, ob Prof. 
Kraft, früher Frankfurt a. IJ. , zur Zeit, soviel ich weiss an der New 
School for Social Researches t-itig, sich auch heute noch mit Rechts- 
soziologie befasst. Ich bin nämlich damit beschäftirt, einen geeir- 
neten Verfasser für ein solches Werk zu suchen, was nicht ganz leicht 
ist. Sollten Sie ihn je persönlich treffen, so bitte ich Sie aber, 
von meiner ^Erkundigung nichts zu sagen, da ich mir über den zu ge- 
winnenden Bearbeiter noch nicht ganz klar bin. 

hc^l^t^A^ /i^^L'UL — (fOUj/^/jLU^ 

4 A^^ - ^ 




November 28,1937 
^öi» »ästend Avenue, i^ew Xork 24,N.'Y. 

Lieber **err -^epslua, 

lob freue rrlch Inmer von Ihnen zu hören. 
^-erzl lohen Dank für Ihre freundlichen orte über den Kontenelle. 
Tob glaube.aasa Les^^lng^s "Rettungen "eine -oral lache Forderung sind, 
-^le m leder hlBtorisohen Situation notig ..ird. Selbst meine ^'ollege] 
im FV-llo3ophie department hatten noch nie von Ihm gehort.Bo gibt es 
Ja viele Autoren. die durch erfolgreichere verdrangt sindiClarve. ■ors- 
^'/oser. .leland (was und wie wäre Goethe geworden ohne .leland'a helle-1 
nlotlsche Humanltas-den edlen E'plkur Ismus Er^amischer ^ragung). 
In der Anlage sende Ich Ihnen ein verzelo^nla meiner Absätze aus 
zwei Gründen jD.eßen Ihrer .rage Toonuevllle ^oe treffend, 2)um Ihren 
.at einzuholen.: err Elsern^^ann bat r.loh vor einiger Zeit um solche 
Liste Oder re.rlnts.dle lo^ nloht hab^.Jur eine eventuelle£air.mlung 
als Buch in Deutschland, .'un wurde ich in der lat noloh ein Puoh in 
deutsch gerne sehen, da Ja kein ^^ensoh hier oder In Deutschland weiss, 
c^ass loh Ja doch immerhin etwas -etan habe „üese Artikel sind Ja 
alle auf den ^'riedhofon von Zeltschriften begraben. Aber loh scrleb 
.errn Rlser^.ann.dasg ich nicht nooh einmal etwas ^rucken -urde.ohne 
irirnnd eine finanzielle -ratlfication.Ioh -vurde nicht noch mal den 
vertrag unterschreiben, den Ich bei Rnice unterschrieb, 
^arf loh Sie noch mit einer -Ute bela3ti*.en?-.^ke hat mir zu meinem 
grossen Arger, 8 Freiexemplare hlerherr^eschlckt.dle loh nun wieder 
aich Deutschland senden werde. „lasen Sie Jemanden, den das Buoh In- 
teres3lerte?Ioh schicke es zu meinem alt^n ^^ruend Krwln von beckera" 
aber sonst weise loh niemanden. Dank für Ihre freund: ohafl lohe G, 


Ihr -liter 

Albert Salomon 




® STUTTGART w, den 13. November 1957 o 


Herrn Professor 
Dr. Albert S a 1 o m o n 
465 V^estend Avenue 
New York 24/ N.Yo 


Seiir geehrter Herr Professor ! 

Die deutsche Ausgabe Ihres Buches »'Portschritt als Schick- 
sal una Verhängnis" ist nunmehr fertiggestellt und gelangt in der 
nächsten Woche im Buchhandel zur Ausgabe. Ich erlaube mir daher, 
Ihnen gleichzeitig verabredungsgemäss mit Schiffspost 8 Autoren- 
freistücke zu übersenaen. Der Preis der Schrift beträgt DM 10.50. 

iixemplare, die Sie über die Freistücke hinaus zu erhalten wünschen, 
stehen ihnen selbstverständlich zum Autorenpreis, d.h. mit 30/o Nach- 
lass, also zu DM 7.35 zur Verfügung. An Herrn Dr. Lepsius schicke 
ich seine Belegexemplare direkt. 

Für die Überlassung der deutschen Ausgabe zum Verlag sage 
ich Ihnen nochmals meinen besten Dank. Ich hoffe, dass sich unsere 
gemeinsamen Erwartungen hinsichtlich des Absatzes erfüllen. 

Mit den verbinGlichsten Empfehlungen 

Ihr sehr ergebener 


November 6,1957 

Lieber .err Dr. Eisermann :^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ 

oino PlbllotrraDMe der Aufsatze and Vortrage, die loh noch ala 
eine "^•'^P°6r*P'^?^^ "„,„. „»n?© --©nKe ^abe loh ausgelassen. 
nT^ntSr^^nfaSc^^le IrSSer.ebef artlLl.^Ue loh «la 
Mnfuvrun« ?ur avnun'llose araerlkanlsohe Studenten sorleb. 
tlnfunrung ^^'^,^,"""" rinntelTun« zu Aeber habe und glaube, 
2ti°Ln ?hm keliln Pu?en DlensS^l^elBtet hat.alB man Ihn 
zri^nosophen ".aohle.wurde loh dlae alten Inforrnatlons- 

Von^Jufw^nJ'S'AufsftS; kann loh Ihnen Reprints Benzen. 
vol "oclll eSarch habe loh überhaupt kelne.well wir die 

'S'^Bchflnf'?? SbSipt oraktlscher.-venn Sie versuchen 

IL re oektiven zStschrlf ten auf Ihrem Institut oder auf 
ill ^nlSSeltatsblbllothek einzusehen, wenn es Ihnen lohnte. 

vo? allem wäre Ich natürlich Interes.slert zu hören. 
Ob ein ?erläl? Interessiert wäre. einen solchen -and heraus- 
SSbrlngen und welche legalen und finanziellen Bedingungen 

'^irflf Ä.bln ich all die Jahre ^'^^^--^ «J" ^^Se^SS 
-»Putsoher oder ein deutscher PTuropaer geblieben und habe micn 
blmS.unsere alten geistigen Traditionen treulich zu über- 

Lassen Sie mich wissen, was iiie denken. 

i-erzliches Ger^enken 

Ihr ergebener 

Albert Balomon 



Ifunchen 19, den .'^l.X.1957 
i u s t s t r . 2 

Sehr verl9>^rter 'lerr j'rofer^sor 

Ich bedanke rnich sehr für IlDFen über ionteneiie, den 3i 


lieb' np-vn 

■d i -^erweise ziT^erchi ckt haben 

Ich habe ihn sofort 



a o 


Intereese ^-elesen und mvFs -gestehen 

das£ mir i'onte- 


11^- bis dahin volli'^ unb 

ekannt ^var. Inr-er veider becinarucKt es 

ich stark zu sehm, v. 


der ^\ 1 f k l ä rix n ^ u n 

kehrt, vie "^"'eni^ ^ 

ie veit^ehend unr-ere heuti-^en Leitideen m 

d der französi r-chon Revolu. tion wurzeln oder ur 
nr peit dem hinzugelernt ha.ben« Die drt 

enwart hat 

ein senj^a 

aussen -publizisti 

tionell auf »=-e"Putschtes Aktuaii trtsbev.usstsein - teils von 



richtet, teils von innen au 

an ^ s t u n 

d Orientierunrsunsicherheit empfunden - aass 

aktut'iier Lebens- 
^n tinui täts- 


i - 

stsein und Hie blosse ICenntnis der 



twicKlun*^ Kaum noch v.irk- 


werden und eben das ^ 

re für eine Orientierun 

^ in der G-e^^ enwart 

doch so w^ichtir. Tlnso X'vi 

chtirer erscheinen mir daher Ihre Arbeiten 

die un 


ner) An 



ei ner j-^ntw^icklun 


urückführen und ihn klar- 




de vermitteln un 

dadnrch nicht nur neue Kenij tni bL.e sondern 

r '^llem p.vch in der Analyse dieser 
tive unserer n-e^eni^/art • 

Ver.'-anr-enehit eine neue lerspek- 

Ich habe es ausserordentlich bedr^uert 

ich Ihrem Vor&chia-^, Sie 


iils zu besuchen, n 

icht fol^^en konn 

te, da ich zu dieser A 

eit beson- 

ders beschäftigt war und emi'^e /-. 

it in ;k.rlin uno 


sein mus 
undhoffe, d 

,te. Ich hla^tte Ihnen noch einen 

irief nach oils /geschrieben 

de v;enirstens o 

lese Zeilen erhalten haben 

Auch tat 


ir leid, dass ich ihre i 

Binder nicht m 


eben treffen Konnte 

Ich ho 

a'ber, dass Sie m bi 

Is eine schöne Zeit hatten 

Ich selbst 

liebe dps Oberen^-adin ?^anz besonders 

Ihre Hinvjeise 

!uf Simmel und Tocnue\' 

ille ("in Ihrem letzten Brie 

f ) 

haben mich ^anz be sonr 

■lers interessiert un 

ich möchte 3ie heute 

bitten , ob 3ie m 

ir 'gelegentlich schreiben 

w/ürden , ob 31 e 

8 e 1 

•^ C" 


ber diese beiden oder de 


einen von ihnen 

etwas -geschrieben haben 

A'jch wäre ich Ihnen 

sehr dankbar für Hinweise a. 



bei ich riir denken konrte, oas 


ler Art zu diesen 
bei -i-bren otuaien 

-vielleicht beson 

ders für Toc qu 

eville - in .Amerika 

wicht.i -^e Literatur 

bere-'^net ist. Ich mo 

;hte Sie mit dieser -;:iitte n& 

türlich nicht sehr 


ber vielleicht ist Ihnen aus 

Ihrer umfa 


ieser beiden das eine oder anae 

rre ohne Ums tan ae 

.enden llenntnis 
zur Verfü-^un*^« 

Enke wird nun 

wohl in iairze die deui 

tsche Ausgabe Ihres Buches aus- 




ranzeiren laufen 

bereits im ':uchand 

el um. Nach dem 

Umbruch zu schliessen, sieht es 

recht ordentlich aus 


heute bin ich mit r^en besten ^^:ünschen fü 

r Ihre Gesundheit und 

herzlichsten '-russen 




sehr ergebener 







Ivfunchen 19, den ,'^1,X.1957 
Fuststr. 2 

Sehr verthrter Herr Proferrsor, 

Ich bedanke mich ü.ehr für Ilbpen Aufsatz über ionteneile, oen Sie 
mir lieb'-nsmirdi^ervveise ziireschickt haben. Ich habe ihn sotort 
mit ^-^roGPem Interepse f^elesen und nufis gestehen, dass mir i'onte- 
nell^ bis dahin völli.- unbekannt v/ar. Imrer v/eider beeindrucKt es 
mich stark zu sehen, Y;ie veit^-ehend unsere heuti-en Leitideen m 
der Aufklärung und der französischen P^evolution v;urzeLn oder um=-e- 
kehrt vae v'eni»^ v:ir seit dem hinzu'^elernt haben • Die O-e'-enwart bat 
ein sensationell auf »^eputschtes Aktuali tätsbev.usstsein - teils von 
aussen -nublizi stisch ,<-erichtet, teils von innen aus aktueller Lebens- 
an-°t nnd Grien tierunrsunsicherheit empfunden - dass das K )n tinuitats- 
l^evu--tsein und Hje blosse Kenntnis der ]i]ntv;iciclunr kaum noch v.irk- 
c^am ^'^•erden und eben das ^^'are für eine Orientierung: in der Ge^ 
doch -0 Fichtir. Umso \^ichtirer erscheinen mir daher Ihre Arbeiten, 
die uns py) den Anfan/^ einer Entwicklung- zurückfuhren und ihn klar- 
ler-^n Sie vermitteln uns dadurch nicht nur neue Kenntnisee sonaern 
vor^.llem auch in der Anal^rse dieser Ver.-an.-enehi t eine neue I erspek- 
tive unserer rie-^enwart. 

Ich habe es ausserordentlich bedauert, dass ich Ihrem Vorschia--, oie 
in Sils zu besuchen, nicht fol^-en konnte, da ich zu dieser z.eit beson- 
ders" beschäftigt v;ar und eini-e Zeit in .^krlin und Forddeutschiand 
sein musste. Ich Witte Ihnen noch einen Brief nach ^l^ir^^'f^^ 
undhoffP dnss Sie v;enifstens diese Zeilen erhalten haben. Auch tc^t 

es m r J^id 'dass ich Ihre Kinder nicht in ^^'^^^^^f/^^"-,^;^^ ^^c-t 
Ich hof-e aber, dass Sie in Sils eine schone Zeit hatten, ich selbst 

liebe das Oberen«:adin ^anz besonders« 

Ihre Hir^weise auf Simnel und TocqueviUe (in IT^^^':, Jlf ",Jf ^f^lf ^ 
haben mich ^anz besonders interessiert un. i?.l^;"--hte oie heute 
MttPn oh Sie mir -ele^entlich schreiben wurden, ob oie beUst 
S;'!'"lese bi?dei oder den einen von ihnen geschrieben haben, 
^'ch w-?e ich Ihnen sehr dankbar für Hinweise aller '^^ ,^^^4;^J^" 
beiden. v;obei ich mir denken könrte, dass Ihnen bei xhren otuoien 
-vielleicht besonders für TocnuevilLe " i" ^incrika .acht, ^-e .iter.tur 
hLe-net i=t.Ich möchte 3ie mit dieser ^itte naturlioh nicht .ehr 
^'mühen aber vielleicht ist Ihnen aus Ihrer^.umfassenaen Lenntnis 
diese^betden das eine oder andere ohne Umstände zur \urfu-un^. 

T^^nke ^'■ird nun ^vohl in Kürze die deutsche Ausgabe ihres Ruches aus- 
lieferif'^ie Voranzeigen laufen bereits im -.uchandel um. Nach dem 
uibiuch zu schliessen, sieht es recht ordentlich aus. 

i-ür heute bin ich mit den besten ''mnschen für Ihre Gesundheit und 

herzlichsten '-n'i'ssen 


sehr ergebener 



Heidelberg, den 22. X. 1957. 

Sehr geehrter Herr Professor, 

für Ihren Brief vom 14. d*Mts, danke ich Ihnen 
sehrj eine akute Grippeerkrankung läßt mich erst 
heute dazu kommen, ihn zu bantworten. 

Es hat inich sehr gefreut, daß Ihnen meine Einlei- 
tung gefallen hat. Ihre Korrekturen werden den 
Intentionen Ihrer Arbeit schon am besten entspre- 
chen. Leider habe ich den neuen Text von Enke 
noch nicht zugeleitet bekommen. Mir lag natürlich 
besonders daran, daß Sie beim deutschen Publikum 
so ankommen, wie Sie es verdienen. Dank sind Sie 
mir dafür nicht schuldig. 

Sie könnten Mir aber Ihrerseits einen großen Ge- 
fallen tun, wenn Sie mir eine - möglichst große - 
Auswahl Ihrer Aufsätze (in Sonderdrucken versteht 
sich) zukomren lassen würden. Ich könnte mir dann 
eine bessere Übersicht über Ihre Arbeit verschaffen 
und vielleicht ließe sich tatsächlich eine deutsche 
Auswahl darauf realisieren. Besonders läge mir an 
Ihrem Aufsatz über Adam Smith ("as an Sociologist") 
der freilich schon bis 1945 zurückliegt, Durkheim, 
sobald er erscheint, Goethe und Max Weber. 

Es sollte mich sehr freuen, wenn Sie meiner Bitte 
entsprechen könnten. Inzwischen gratuliere ich 
Ihnen zum (in Kürze bevorstehenden) Erscheinen Ih- 
res wrsten deutschen Buches nach so vielen Jahren 
und verbleibe mit den besten Wünschen und Grüßen 

Ihr ergebener 





6 91 20/ 6 80 76 



Dr. Albert S a 1 o m o n 

455 Westend Avenue 

New York 24 /USA 

® STUTTGART w, den 15^ Oktober 1957 



Sehr geehrter Herr Professor! 

Für die Rückgabe der durchgesehenen Revi si onsbogen Ihres 
Buches danke ich Ihnen verbindlichst. Das Manuskript von Herrn 
Dr. EISERIv:AI^K für die Sihleitung werden Sie in der Zwischenzeit 
erhalten haben. Sobald Herr Dr. LEPSIUS die von ihm durchgesehenen 
Bogen zurückgegeben hat, werden wir mit dem Druck beginnen. 

Auf dem T*^ telblatt haben Sie In der Verfasserzeile die vor 
Ihrem Namen ange;rebener Titulaturen gestrichen. Gestatten Sie mir, 
dass ich hier die Bitte ausspreche, es bei der bisherigenForm zu 
belassen. Diese hat nämlich ihren besonderen Grund. In engeren Fach 
kreisen ist Ihr Name ja bekannt genug, so dass die Titulatur ohne 
weiteres entfallen könnte; aber wir wenden uns ja doch an einen 
grosseren Käuferkreis, da die oben erwähnten Kreise keinen genügen- 
den Absatz bringen würden. Nachdem wir aöer auch auf die weiteren 
Käuferkreise aijgewiesen sind, halte ich es doch für notwendig, dass 
wir an dem in Deutschland üblichen Brauch, nämlich der Voransetzung 
des "Professor Dr." festhalten, auch wenn dies in USA im allgem.e in- 
nen nicht gebräuchlich ist. 

Ich bitte um Verständnis für dieses Anliegen und zeichne 

mit den verbindlichsten Smp fehlungen 
Ihr sehr ergebener 



c^cM^/(i^ ^/fsy 

»/ • • 


/*• A<^>tx«v^ ^V'T' ^'^«-^ /*^*^ zX-'/'V^/y^^ 

if"»Y^ >*/C /t 

fU^iUA^f^ /Wiri* A- //^ - s/ffC^^ 


/dy ijk^^t^ 


ßt^y^ it^ACL-C**^ tih/'^**C/*>^'t(4-'/^/Ci 

h-J^Us^JlU^ uJx^iU.^ /i'k/Ly "^ KuZi^L /tu.ß^U/*^....'^-^^ 



Auntf^j^t:: iA'M-iL^j:^^ 


ii n^i^^ 4^A 





//««/»«/Uvt* W- » ^ >^4^ ftC^UfPCf ^Uu^/L, A*-,^ fi -^/ÄA^^ifc-A/- J t^ 

/<. ^U^/h>^C eC^yl^ 




T>^ fj>^4UL, ^'C ^ /^ ^ 






® STUTTGART w, den 10. Oktober 1957 


Herrn Professor 
Dr. Albert S a 1 o m o n 
4 65 Westend Avenue 
New York 24/ N.Y . 


Sehr geehrter Herr Doktor ! 

An Hand der von Herrn Dr. Lepsius korririorten Fah- 
nen Ihres Buches habe ich den Umbruch durchführen lassen. Die Re- 
visionsbogen sandte ich am T.cs.Mts. ab. Einen Beleg davon erhiel- 
ten Sie, während Herr Dr. Lepsius seine Fahnen mit den Revisions- 
boren bekam. Sollten Ihrerseits irgendwelche Verbesserungen ge- 
wünscht weraen, so bitte ich höflichst, mir diese sofort mitzu- 
teilen. Ich möchte nämlich, wenn von Herrn Dr. Lepsius die impri- 
mierten Bogen zurückkommen, sofort mit dem Druck beginnen. Dazu* 
sollte dann auch Ihr Einverständnis vorliegen. 

Mit c en verbind ichsten Empfehlungen 
Ihr sehr ergebener 

Soeben trifft die Einleitung von Herrn Dr. Eisormann bei uns ein, 
die an Stelle des Mac Iver' sehen Geleitworts kommen soll. Ich sende 
sie Ihnen zur Einsicntnahme zu. Sollten Sie irgendetwas zu ändern 
wünschen, so wird Herr Dr. Eiser...ann sicher bereit sein, dies zu tun 
Ich bitte um möglichst umgehende Rücksendung ^^s Ißvvr^i^i i^ . 









Herrn Professor 

Dr. Albert S a 1 o m o n 



Hasenbergsteige 3 

465 Westend v'venue 

New York 24/ N.Y 



(14 a) Stuttgart- W. den 17.* 1957 • 

Hasenbergsteige 3 

Sehr geehrter Herr Professor ! 

Für Ihre p:eehrten Zeilen vom 14 «ds.Mt s. danke 
ich Ihnen verbindlichst. Ihr Brief hat sich mit einem 
Schreiben von mir vom festriren Tag geKreuzt. Aas ihm 
können Sie oen Stand der Herstellung Ihres Buches ent- 
ne'n.ien. ich möchte nur noch nachtragen, dass wir als 
endgültigen Titel folgenae Fassung gewählt haben; 

" Fortschritt als Schicksal und Verhängnis 
Betracntungen zum Ursprung der Soziologie". 

Mit oen verbindlichsten Empfehlungen 

Ihr sehr ergebener 





Herrn Professor Albert Salomon 
4-65 \VeGterid Avenue 
New York 24/ IKY. 

@ STUTTGART w, den 16. September 1957 



Sehr geehrter Herr Proi'essor ! 

Ihr c:eehrtes Schreiben vom 30. Llai hatte ich bisher 
nicht beantwortet, da Sie, wie Gie scnreibcn, bis Mtte eis. Mts. 
nicht erreichbar sein würde. Nachdem Sie nun wohl wieder zurück- 
gekehrt sind, erlaube ich mir Innen mitzuteilen, dass der S^itz Ihres 
Buches durchf-eführt wurde. Lie korririerten Pahnen hat ^ierr Lr.Lep- 
sius heute zurückrereben. ;jr iu^t noch einire Verbecserun^.^en anre- 
bracht, die beim Umbruch berücksichtigt werden. Ein Rele^exemiolar 
der Farmen sende ich Ihnen mit getrennter Post zu. 

Das Vorwort, das wir auch mitabgesetzt hatten, eignet 
sich wohl nicnt ganz für die deutsche Ausgabe. Herr Lr. Lepsius 
teilte mir mit, dass er Ihnen bereits vorgeschlagen hatte, hier ( 
eine ganz neue lassung zu wählenich schliesse mich üiesem an und 
wäre Ihnen sehr cankbar, -^^enn Sie mir einen neuen Text zur Verfügun.'r 
stellen w^ürden. Herr Lr. iJisermann wird dem Buch noch ein Geleit, vort 

\'jeaa icn von Ihnen xceine gegenteilige Nachricnt erhalte, 
Werne ich Herrn lr. Lepsius bitten, für die Umbruchrevisionen dann 
das Imprixmatur zu erteilen. 

Llit den verbindlichsten Empfehlungen 

Inr sehr ergebener 




Dr. M. Rainer Lepsius 

München 19, den 19. 
i'uststr. 2 



Sehr verehrter Herr Profescor oalonon, 

Heute kann ich Ihnen nun neiden, dass ich die Übersetzung Ihres 
Buches f ertip:rrestellt habe. Das MS der Übersetzung ist jetzt bei 
Herrn Dr. -Tilnke und wird Ihnen sic>^erllch bald zugestellt werden. 

Ich enpfinde die Arbeit für die Übersetzung: Ihres Buches als einen 
p-rosp.en (Gewinn an interessanten Belehrungen und neuen Einsichten 
und freue nich, dass es dazu p-ekonmen ist. Nun hoffe ich nur, 
dass Ihnen neine deutsche Wiederp-abe im allß:emeinen zusagt. 

Ich habe mich bei der^^Übersetzunrr, v/ie Sie sehen werden, bemüht, 
so oriorinaltreu wie mön-lich zu bleiben, doch könnte ich mir na- 
türlich vorstellen, dass hier und da trotzdem. Akzentverschiebungen 
eingetreten sind. 

Im einzelnen möchte ich heute nur folgendes bemerken t 

Die Titelf ran:e ist noch unentschieden; ich habe dazu einige Vor- 
schläge rremacht, doch wird wohl Herr Dr. Enke darüber noch direkt 
mit Ihnen schreiben. 

"Preface" und "Acknowledrrments" bitte ich in MS. nur als vorläufig 
anzusehen. Ich könnte mir denken, dass Sie selbst zur deutschen 
Ausgabe Bin neues oder verändertes Vorwort schreiben wollen. Ich 
kann aucVi nicht beurteilen, inwieweit auch in der^^dt. Ausgabe die 
^•achnowledm^ents" erscheinen werden, Jedenfalls müssten^^sie mit 
ins Vorwort p-enommen werden, da ein ey^tm. Abschnitt dafür eigent- 
lich uncrebräuchlich ist. 

Das ^releitwort von Maclver habe ich einfach übersetzt, obwohl ieh 
auch in diesem Punkt nicht Ihre /Absichten kenne. 

Die Kapjrtelüberschriften P-laubte ich zum Teil etwas verändern zu 
müssend ich hoffe, Sie sind damit einverstanden. 

Ein ß:enerelles Problem ergibt sich aus der Übersetzung der zahl- 
reichen Zitate. Pur diejenigen, die im Original deutsch sind (wie 
bei den Zitaten von Burckhardt, Schi*^el, Goethe) habe ich mir^^das 
Original beschafft. Diejenirren hinsehen, die im Original franzosisch 
sind, habe ich aus Ihrer enprlischen Passung ins Deutsche übersetzt. 
Nun sind natürlich Zweitübersetzunpien nie sehr befriedigend, aber 
zunächst musste ich es dabei belassen. Die Beschaffung; der franzo- 
sischen Orin-inale wäre sehr umständlich und zeitraubend^^ftewesen, 
sodass ich die Fertigstellung des MS nicht dadurch verzo^rern wollte. 
Ich wäre Ihnen sehr dankbar, wenn Sie mir Ihre Meinung zu dieser 
Frapre schreiben würden, oder aber wenn Sie selbst aus Ihrer Kennt- 
nis der OriP:inale. meine Formulierungen nötin:enf alls korrigieren 


- 2 - 

Zum Text noch zwei i'ran^ent 

Auf S. 6 Ihres Buches (S. 4 des MS.) schreiben Sie, dass der zitierte 
Brief Burckhardts zwei Jahre vor der Veröffentlichung des komm. Mani- 
festes /geschrieben worden sei. In der Auspabe der Briefe B, ist er 
als in Septenber 1849 p-eschrieben bezeichnet, sodass er doch wohl 
nach der Veröff entll chun^r des konm. Manifestes im Jahre 1848 liegt; 
oder täusche ich mich? 

Auf S. 88 Ihres Buches (S.91 des MS. ) findet sich der Ausspruch Burck^ 
hardts " hear the /rrass of necessity ^rn^infr". Ich konnte das dt. 
Ori/^inal nicht auffinden und wäre Ihnen dankbar, wenn Sie meine 
FormulierunPT überprüfen wollten. 

Zu einigen ftrundsätzlichen f erminolorrischen i?'ragen (z.B. "religion 
of human i ty" : '*Menschheitsreligion'* oder '*Humanitätsreligion'* ) möchte 
ich mich heute nicht äussern, sondern lieber Ihre Wünsche abwarten. 

Zu den Anmerkunpren noch fo Irrendes: 

1. Kapitel: 
zitiert. - 
nicht 19-^)?) 
weiss nicht han 
hier erprab 
/rabe. - 10) 
ohne Intere 
da-mit dann 

2) statt der enprl. kv§frRhe habe ich natürlich die fit. 
7>) die Burckhardtbrief e sind nach meiner Ausgabe 1935 
erschienen; die Seite ist nicht 454 sondern 451. Ich 
, ob es sich dabei um Druckfehler, oder um eine andere 
deltrund bitte Sie das überprüfen zu wollen. - 4) auch 
sich eine andere Seitenzahl. - 5) natürlich die dt. Aus 

die enp-l. Übersetzung? Tursiots ist für dt. Leser wohl 
sse, weshalb ich sie .gestrichen habe. Allerdings fallt 
der Seitenverweis fort. 

2. Kapitel: Die [Fussnoten 2 bis 5 sind im Text verdruckt, ich hoffe, 
sie richtipr anfteordnet zu haben. - 7>) una 4) einmal ist als Erschei 
nunr^iahr 1931, einmal 1921 anpie^reben. Würden Sie bitte das richtige 
Jahr feststellen und im MS einsetzen. - 6 ) In Henr^ und Rest^ration 
handelt es sich wohl um zwei Druckfehler. 

3. Eatitel: l) habe ich die dt. Übersetzung: angeführt. 
Welches? Desß:leichen bei 9). 

- 6) op. cit. 

5. Kapitel: l) habe ich f ortrrelassen , da ich das Orip:inal nicht 
ausfindipr machen konnte, der Verweis a.uf eine engl. Übersetzung 
in einer dt. Ausgrabe auch etwas seltsam wirkt. 


Ich habe es sehr bedauert, dass ich Sie vor meiner Abreise aus 
New York im September vorirren Jahres nicht kakR angetroffen habe^ 
und hoffe, dass es Ihnen gesundheitlich doch wieder etwas besser 
<reht. Ich selbst habe mich wieder in die deutschen Verhaltnisse 
eingelebt, wenn meine Gedanken natürlich auch oft sich aut die 
interessante und schöne Zeit richten, die ich in den Vereinigten 
Staaten erleben durfte. Im Sommer führte mich eine ausgedehnte Reise 
in den Süden und bis tief nach Mexiko hinein, wobei gerade die Be- 
creOTun^ mit den Resten der präkolumbianischen Hochkulturen einen 
tiefen Eindruck auf mich Premacht haben. Der Weg führte dann idurch 
Arizona, Nevada nach Kalifornien und zurück über Ann Arbor, wo ich 
noch einirre sehr interessante Wochen an der University of Michigan 
verbrachte, und französiech Kanada nach New York. So habe ich doch 
einen sehr reichen und vielfarbigen Eindruck von Amerika erhalten 
kSnnenT "«" i<^^ erst nach und nach ecanz bewältigt haben werde. 
Für heute bin ich mit den besten Empf ehlunp:en Ihr.^anz ^ergebener 





18. März 1957. 

Herrn Professor 
Lr. Albert S a 1 o m o n 
465 Westend Avenue 
New Y Q r k 24/ N.Y . 

Seiir geehrter Herr Professor l 

las Manuskript der deutsctien Übersetzung^ Ihres Buches "Ty~ 
ranny of Pro^ress" ist jetzt von H-rrn Tr. Lepsius bei uns eingetrof- 
fen. LS hiA leider etwas länger gedauert als ich mit aem Übersetzer 
verabredet hatte .^r will Ihnen ja ausführlich schreiben und wird wohl 
auch die Verzögerung begrüne en, 

Wunschpemäss übersende ich Ihnen das Manuskript gleichzeitig 
durch Schiifspost eingeschrieben ^u. Die oinsichtnahnie hat mir übrigens 
gezeigt, dass die Übersetzung stilistisch sehr gut gelungen ist. 

Nun hanoelt es sich noch um die Frage des Titels, die ich 
mit H'^rrn Lr. Lepsius bereits erörtert habe. Eine wörtliche Übersetzung 
ist nicht gut angängig. Geine eif^enen Vorschläge hat Herr lr. Lepgius auf 
Gern Titelblatt der übersetzu.^ig angebracht. Sie lauten f olgenaermassen: 


"Ordnung unc Fortschritt 
Betrachtungen über Saint-Simon,üomte und 
die Ursprünge der Soziolorie" 

2.) "Die Soziologie als Fortschrittsphilosophie" 


I» V 

Fortschri ttsreligion und Totali tarismus'l 

Alle diese drei Titel gefallen mir nicht so ganz. Ich habe daher Herrn 
Dr. Lepsius folgenden Vorschlag gemacht: .^ 

"Vom Fortschrittswahn zur Diktatur 
Soziologische Betrachtungen'! 

Herr Dr. Lepsius schreibt mir heute, dass er diesen Titel recht gut fän- 
de, er schlägt nur als Untertitel Folgendes vor: 

"Saint-Simon, Gomte und die Ursprünge der Soziologie". 

Diesen Untertitel möchte ich aber vielleicht f olgendermassen formulieren: 

"Aus der Frühzeit der Soziologie 
(Saint-Simon, Gomte u.a.)". 

Vielleicht käme auch noch folgender Titel in Frage: 

"Die Religionen des Fortschritts" 

ebenfalls mit dem von mir zuletzt formulierten Untertitel. Unter Umstän- 
den 'riönnte man anstatt "u.öl." auch nochcen einen oder anderen Soziolo/^^en 
namentlich aufführen, vielleicht Marx. 

Ich bitte Sie, Verständnis dafür zu haben, aass ich die Ti- 
telfrage so ausführlich erörtere und sie Ixhnen zur Kritik vorlege; sie 
ist eben für den ri^rfolg des Buches von nicht unerheblicher Bedeutung. 
Haben Sie die Güte, sich die vorgeschlagenen Titel zu überlegen Und gü- 
tigst Stellung dazu zu nehiaon. ' \ 




^ ^latt 2 zum Brief vom 

18. März i'3^ i 


. T >.. na^-s wir die V.'idmuag an Rabbi ^nton Stein- 
Ich glaube, o^"\^' !,,r^^" .j^o-t -^-^Gn können. Von Ilire.n 

dann erneut an ihn herantreten. 

Kit den verbindlichsten Empfehlungen 
Ihr sehr ergebener 




.M " 



y ) 














He rrn f r of e ssor 

Dr. Albert S a 1 o m o n 

465 Westend Avenue 

New York 24/ N,Y, 

@) STUTTGART W, den 


18. Oictober 1956. 


Sehr geehrter Herr Professor ! 

Heute war Herr Dr. Lepsius bei mir und ich habe mit ihm 
die Übersetzung Ihres Buches "The lyranny of Progress" verabredet. 
Er will sie bis gegen Ende des Jahres fertigstellen. Ich möchte Sie 
nun höflichst fragen, ob Sie die Übersetzung vor Drucklegung zu se- 
hen wünschen. In diesem Fall v;ürde Herr Dr. lepsius Ihnen sein Ma- 
nuskript gleich nach Fertigstellung übersenden. Auch die Titelfassung 
habe ich mit Herrn Dr. l'epsius besprochen. Er hatte zunächst keinen 
Vorschlag. Wir waren aber darüber einig, dass eine wörtliche Über- 
setzung des Titels nicht günstig wäre. Darf ich mich erkundigen, ob 
Sie sich selbst schon über einen deutschen Titel Gedanken gemacht 

Mit den verbindlichsten Empfehlungen 

Ihr sehr ergebener 


80 East llth Street, New York 3, N. Y. Gramercy 3-4737 

October 11,1956 

Dr. Albert '^alomon 
465 West End Äve, 
New York City 

Dear Albert, 

This will confirm our telephone ^^"^"f^^^^^^l?^^^^^ 
day, The Noonday Press is ouite willmg that The T/ranny, 
of Prorress be published in a German traMation by 
Inke vorlag y QU to be the recipient of all royalties from 

the edition. 

Sincerely yo^p, 

^ecil , emley () 

The i^ccnday Cress 


\ / 







Herrn Professor Dt. Albert 2 a 1 o m o n, New York 

und dem 
Verlag Ferdinand E n k e in Stuttgart 

betreffs Übersetzung seines Werkes; 

»f r 

The IVranny of progress '» 

in die deutsche Sprache, 

^ 1 

Herr Rrofessor Salomon ist im iiesitz des 'jbersetzungsrechts, 
so daß an den amerikanischen Verleger kein Honorar gezahlt 
werden muß. 

§ 2. . 

Herr Professor Salomon erhält als Honorar eine itnsahl von im 
Verlag Ferdinand .inke erschienenen ';/erken als Freiexemplare, 
iiine Vereinbarung hierüber liegt vor. 

S 5. 

Herr Professor Salomon erhält von der deutschen Übersetzung 
8 Freiexemplare. 

Die deutsche ^.uflage beträgt 1 ooo Stück. 

New York, den 

Stuttgart, den J. Oktober I956 






STUTTGART W, den 5- Oktober 1956 



..noi J. c i 'proreSßöi^-Brr^i'lbi^rt Salbmon 

I PL> 


X ;. 

New Y o r Jj: ^4->;i'i "'^i^^^' 

r ^ 

^ J -L ->. 


lOitSCi ö;^ 

^^^ >^-^^^^.fbo 

Sehr geehrter Herr Professor! 

Ich danke Ihnen verbindlichst für Ihr freundliches Schreiben 
vom 1, Oktober* Es ist sehr erfreulich, daß die Noonday Press nun ihre 
Zustimmung zur entschädi^ungslosen deutschen Übersetzung gegeben hat. 

VoT% Herrn Dr. Lepsius habe ich durch Professor v. Martin die 
Adresse erhalten und habe ihm schon am 14»September geschrieben, bis 
jetzt aber noch keine Antwort von ihm bekommen. Ich werde in den näch- 
sten Tagen reklamieren. 

Ihre freundliche Zustimmung, daß das Vorwort von Maciver durch 
eine Einleitung von Lr. Eisermann ersetzt wird, ist mir sehr lieb. Daß 
die Widmung an Milton-Steinberg durch eine solche an das Andenken von 
Georg Simmel ersetzt wird, ist mir ebenfalls durchaus recht. 

Die deutsche Übersetzung werde ich Ihnen gern nach Vollendung 
zusenden. Sobald ich mit Herrn Dr. Lepsius einig geworden bin, gebe ich 
Ihnen Nachricht. 

Einstweilen erlaube ich mir, Ihnen den Übersetzungsvertrag in 
zwei Ausfertigungen zu übermitteln, mit der Bitte um gütige Rückgabe eines 
mit Ihrer Unterschrift versehenen Exemplars. Wenn Sie mehr Freiexemplare 
der Übersetzung zu erhalten wünschen, als in § 5 angegeben ist, dann bit- 
te ich, die Zahl entsprechend zu ändern. 

Durch Schiffspost erhalten Sie die gewünschten Freiexemplare 
von Blücher, Freizeit, Schelsky, Vyandlungen, Wurzbacher, Leitbilder, Würz- 
bacher, Dorf und Geiger, Intelligenz, Die 2. Hälfte des Handbuches der So- 
ziologie wird wohl erst gegen Ende Oktober fertig werden, alsdann werde 

)y-T^AOTTUT8 OMUJCiUAHHDuaaoAJfl^v 3>H/13 aWA^IQ^I^H 

IH^äii^eHliai- ?0S et TAADTTUT?. :0T/!C M'4DäH32T30" 


,'. }. u 

e '. 

E ^0iaT<C);iaäHu8AH 

ich Ihnen auch von diesem Buch so^^^-^ich ^n^-Fjeif^ef^JLa^i,?; vis teilen. 

Mit dem besten Dank für die gütige y^bey-laseu^go Ihrer Schrift 
und den verbindlichsten Empfehlungen bin i^h 

».;•... T 

.1 'J 

Ihr sehr ergebener 

-J X , .• 1 ^ 

Anlage : Vertrag 2fach 

_ ^' -. . 





3 J 


. l'öU i-j 


Olt 4.x. 

1^ < -t. ' .- 

iiT-lÜ..! 'Ov 

I . 



^3 39ir ... 

J r d- 9 1 

;' cfTöw-ToV 

±.i- I ■ ■•>o 

riC)V i-;3Ji<s.i:i:i. j- 

< - 


2 i:.' .. 

_/ .1. y.i j . 

J '?! 

d ' : 

X > 

rLUJ 1 

j:\ i'd 

^ j. -j. 


... --ü j- 


, i :. 


.. - V ^. .' 

^ h/ r« 

■J- i 

Tx;:i :i:. 

ttxt t^5 


< -> 


Ix9w;t:-,:, a 

^ X 

i^ 9j1. 

■ ; -t-^le 

J ' iV v\ 


X . _ 

._ i . - <-> 

j. o ■ .^ i 


.1 ':< 

O _L 

. T9.n'j 

Idow iiixvsr 9 

Joseph VRIN 


6f Place de la Sorbonne 
7I| Rue Saint-Jacques 

Tiliphont Od6on 03-47 Chique Postal Paris 19-630 

Achat de Livret 
Neufs eVpOccasioo 

de Biblioth^ues 

R. C. Seine 39->295 
N« d'Entreprise : 764 75105 0023 

"Paris, le 30 Ju lila t 195 6 

ä M^nslour Albert SALOMON 
465 West End Avenue 
NEW-Y»»K 24,N.Y. 

— — — ■ ■ IM IM— ^ 


j'ai l*h#nneur,de vous faire oen- 
naltre 1a d6olslen que vient,enfin,de prendre le "CemitÄ de leo- 
tiire •• de niA Malsen au sujet de l'6ditlen, Eventuelle, an franqals, 

de vatre auvrage: 

" The Tyranny af Pragress ". 
Sulvant vatre lettre du 25 Mai I956,Mansleur le Prafesseur 
HOYRE a,effeotlvement,beÄucaup Inslst* paur que vatre auvrage 
Salt traduit et publl6,en France, aussl rapldement que passlble, 
et,ce,par les salns de natre MalsanI 

Malheureusement ses Callögues - aprös une assez vlve dls- 
oussian - ne se sant pas rangfes ä san avls;taut en reoannalssant: 
(sie) ..."le llvre d* Albert Salaman est l*aeuvre d'un esprlt tr«s 
"p6n6trant et la thöse qu^ll sautlent - sur l'aooard prafond " 
"entre les asplratlans de la premlöre saolalagle franqalse et 
"Celles de l'Etat tatalltalre - est assur^ment taut partloull^H 
"rement sautenable I Elle est, du reste,soutenue avec beauoaup 
"de brla et d*lntelllgenoe,mals,l*ensemble - qul canstltue un" 
"travall trös ban en sal - s*adresse ä un public :plus large, 
"malns 6rudlt et malns ax6 sur la phllasaphle d^enseignement 
"que la cllentöle de natre Mal san . Ce qu^ll canvlent dUbard" 
"de trauver paur l*Auteur,c'est l'6dlteur Idalne!" 

Dans oes candltlans,Mansleur le Prafesseur KOYRE m'a dano 
deinand6:taut d*abard,de vaus aviser de ce cantre-teiT5)s; 

pMs,d*essayer,dös le retaut des vaoances,de oantaoter: 
Messieurs Sabatler,Dlreoteur des Edltlan8,et Andre Georges, Dlrec- 
teur de Calleotlan, - amls de Mr.Vrln - paur une Eventuelle tra- 
duotlan aux Edltlans Albin Mlohel« 

Je pense que Vaus n'jf verrez pas d'lncanv6nlents et je 
me prapase de le faire, sauf aantre ardre de vatre part,ver8 le 

15 Septembre« 

Aveo mes regrets de ne pauvalr accepter 


^•tro •ffr6,veulilea agr6er ,M#nsleurrXFA3iaranoe 
ments d6vtu6s las mallleurs* 

r ^ ' - ... - , -.^^n'O'^ 

e mos sentl- 

• ':.:.:3i; 

.... ,>.i.r 

OJUsv* .: 'A . s -..<.. i i; ^n^^ 

»" ..j -'•'''. ?,■ -iH .'»)■»»'*■'* ••■ 


X lu n 

1^/öjC /. Jl-^ *)^ /7J? 


7([ c V u^7/ 

N / ^/ e^ *— di I o 

lie^c- ( 




Öraduate Faculty of P61itical and i^ial Science 
New fechool for Social Researöh 
66 Woßt 12th Street 
New York 11, N.Y. 


Albert Salomon 

xSyme, Ronald 
xSyme, Ronald 
xAuerbach, Erich 
xAuerbach, Brich 
jcNamier, Sir Lewis 

xNamier, Sir Lewis 

Reading List 

The Roman rev^lution. 

TacituB. 8 volB. 

Mimesis. 1953 

Literary style and literary audience, 

The Btructure of politics at the 
accession of George III 

Vanished sv5)reina«ies (vol, I of The 
Oollected Essays. Hamish Hamilton, 195^) 

xBrunton, D» «fe Pennington, D.H. Memhers of the long Pari iament. 195^ 

xNeale, J.E« 
jpares, R,, ed» 
xButterfield, Herbert 
siSiTedgwood, C.V. 
xTrevor-Rcper, H.R. 
xTrevor^Rcper, H.R« 

Elizabeth I and her Parliaments. 195^ 

Essays presented to Sir Lewis Namier. 1956 

George III and the historians. 1957 

The King 's Peace. I956 

History, professional & lay» 1957 

Men and eventss historical essays. 

X - Bodcs in New School library nr on order. 

faduate Paculty of Polltlcal and Social Science 
^ew Seh 00 1 for Social Research 
66 V/est 12 th Street, New York 11, 




General Reading: 

James, Henry 
ti ' ff " 

Curtius, E. R. 

.'• Veblen, Tli erste in 
L:fnd, R.^ S. 

Scott, P. J, 
Levaaseur, Emile 


Albert Salomon 

Pg. 1 


The Lesson of Balzac • 
Prench poets and novelists. 
Balzac ♦ 1906, 

Balzac. 1933. 

Itie Theory of the leisure class. 

Middletown in transition. 
Historical essays on apprenticeship and voca- 

tional education. 1944. 

Historie des classes ouvrieres et de l'industrie 
en France de 1789-1870, v 

Special Reading: 
I) Balzac defines his work as sociological 

Introduction to: 




II) Tl'ie Social areas : 

Human comedy. 

Girl with the golden eyos. 

Pacino cane. 

The metropolitan,: Lost illusions. 
Middletown: Eugenie Grandet-La Rabouilleuso' 
Two poets-The Griefs of the inventor. 

III) Tlie Historical areas: Hie traditional aristocracy: The Cabinet 

of antiques . 
The Empire: Soldiers, officers, civil servants cf 

: Napoloon-all the way through 
Tlio Restoration: Pather Goriot 
Tlie Bourgeois Monarchy: Splendeur and misery 

IV) Tlie Sociological conceptions of character types and the principle 
of social pathology 

V) The Leisure class 

Lost illusions-Orandeur and misery- 
VI) Big finance and corporations 

House Nucingen-Gobseck-Father Gorlot-Eugenie Grandet 
VII) The Class war of the rieh 

Marriage contract-Rabouilleuse-Grandet 
Vlllj^lbe Private war of the have nots against tlrie rieh 

Pons-Cousine Bette 




Albert Salomon Pg» 2. 


IX) The Social advancemont of the middle classes (American Way of . 

Rise and fall of C. Birotteau-The Young inventors-Derville in 


X) Tlie Intellectuals and the bohemians 

Lost illusions and Grandeur and nisery 

XI) The Social character and career of the petty bourgeoisie and the 

arts of salesmanship and of advertisement 

Birotteau- Illustre Gaudissart l/lI-Ttie Middle classes 

Xil) The Political bureaucraclos - Tlie government Clerks 

XIII) The Revolt against society 

Tho struggle for power-Gobseck 

The great criminal and his deal with the police: Vautrin 

XIV) Tlie Seif renoun.^ing eilte and tue bettor world 

The Country doctor-The seamy slde of history 

XV) Balzac-Goethe-^Comte and Veblen 



^ J 




311-G HIS:ncilT 0? SCCICLÜOY 

Abntract 11 

^:l3T s^OhOH 

!!• Tr.e Franowork ^f Gerr.'m Sociolo,:-*:/ 
*■>) Lorenz v^n Stein 


Dor Sozi^iisnuc; ;ind Koni luni^roiB dop Heuti^^m Fran-^rcicii, 184^ 

üi:. Boitr^^r zur Zoit^.-?. Schicht 3 

idei:. pecon' editi:-n, 1847 

Th.^t third .::ditl"n ^indor th^ title; (reschicht 
• Prfnicrüicr- vor 1789 bi« auf up.P'vJr^'. Tju^e, 5 voIf., 1850 
SjT.ten -.f social ^:'\t political «^civncc , 2 vol^i, l:.-ir)P^56 

(v^l, ?, 0.^u fciencb rf S'-^cioty) 
3rnut OrJbfeld: L-roa!? voh Stoin uiidc di'^ öcs-vllfschM-ftolehrc:^, 1910 
lieirvz I'itzßC.a'co: )jlr v>i9Ci,icht- Philosophien Lorenz voii Gt^in, 1933 
If-aix G-iTv-rt: Lorenz r^- r Stein .iy-id dio Eovoluti-^ri von 1843 

d^:?r sozial 3u'^o'vo^nan(^: in 

1Ö15 l}om near Is-iel in J^rjiark 

studi.^d T)nilo8'.)T)h;' nu:. iav; -»t hiai a:i:'. Jr-na 
-» - 

reti'.Tc'. f 3l.lcv,'s};ip ir Paris 
instruct'-.r n,t f .-■' -oi-ä^'ersit-' of Kiol 

■isnlBsou bocoui^H ■ f las fi.-hting fcr t>..5 inr.eyifmrUrncc if Soiilegwig- 


• ,'.pp»iutaft' äs prcfer'aor in Vienna 


18 43 

ISß-J: i 


Lorenz --on Stom ia of rraut i;Tport;TRCö for tv.-o rsasons: iirst, Ue i;= t-.e^in.c 
Letv^eon Hescl f>.nd Marx. S-^conc'. hc- haß ^^m-'^Ut -U forthc..niii,j Cxforts w.iici 
lor.^ t-^wnrd -olitical s'-cinlo,-' and th.3 8ociolr,-ic;u ■^jaal:;sis of tne f'mctior.inf: 
-f -bliticaiir.ptituU-na .?r.l of oAuinistrative .-Y^^nciee. like .te .-/eher' a poli- 
tici^l-s-ci-lc-äcal writinrs. l-inr.lly, he lins nade posPiMe tho systcnatic wor^. 
,f Fr-"!-^ vP'-'-.T.s <-if<>.oratad a-cirlo.;- as n 8ci«nc.- -f roiaitv in ordor to -ajs- 
4tahliP> th.- cr.,tc,.rrio<; ^-l.ic:, are apprcnriate fcr a cla^c sccic-t-' in t.v. rovr-lu- 
ti'-inarr sit--.ati^r. rf t;..,- inölBtrial socioty. 

sV-in •■•ao r-!Vi30d tn.-. first dofiniti^:., whicn v/n Iv-ro ,:;ive:i t". srciolo^jy -.s^a sci- 
eno' f.f -.nx;siti-)u Ttein was t:ic f irst tc 'be avrare t-iat a scisnce of socioty is 
T^*■^8i^^lo on:u ir a disruT.t,.A a;;d dieintogr.-ted worl'-. ;Ia dsf inod 5cciolo.-y as 
ti'- -^ci-^-co of t.;-.e ,-:r.der:i iadustrial rc-v^lution. Ha dofined its taslrs aa con- 
Ci-vtivalizati >'. f tu; c-racicusn.iBfi -f th- naw clas^ s-.ciety, in particular, ox 
tiv. T^rol. taric.t. Piin aec.-:ndly, as tiu: analf'sis am dosctiption of the social 
tranda wl.ic.-. "Jrc it nr.sai-jl.- t6 -rodict and ]ilan. Those drnirnio t*>ndcncxc-E of 
«.'^ci^t'• arü t:.ift VJr.v aofaalit./ cf t-^xo cnntie;;porar;.- i-canc, n't constitiitlor.n and 
t'-.-' l'-'f-xl ü-'iflic.tF. a-c fie politicai surface. T:<i onp:iaBis ■:^n social reüity 
wä= *•■"•■. Irr^Ä ^xtont Uaoed on Uin o:C:->. er ionce with the socialist irmlications m 
tV. rovolt of.J-.ui3 1.3--1-Ö. Sinco thon, .u was teenly av.-je that a ourel-' ior..ial 
de-i^crac- c-.idd Aot ^istaolisi. any control mid acc-.;T/xiB;' an äfficiont and ration- 
al rdninistr.-t-ion. Sinco thon, he adv'cnte<\ a o-ci.-l durwcrac:- -rttr. ß progm. ot 
«ocia. r:>f.-'rr aiic he tumed to ,-• soci-lofiicr-l stud; 'f ivV-inistration anc- its 
f\mcti'ni:/; -.r rv.?r rnd rxainet v.cliti«a\ sciencc ?r c-üBtituti'.nalisn. 

Por Öteir ^'.oro nra txvo peron-irvl forns cf oorr-cc-ities: societ:,' ar.d -^tate. 
5h.'- cannot -.■ rr<\uco^ t^ oac:. '.thor. They e:<7)r38^ in differont inetitutions 
f-- s-cifl f>ct. timt hu."iar. ^oin£;s c-w. ccrre. intr tl'.c^ir ovra norcly in th.. coaxist- 



ence and Cooperation or coriflict ivitl^ oth^r h^^inian baiiif^s. The coexistence ajjpGar?. 
first a3 econo;nic Cooperation. In the rodern r^^rstem of economy which is "basecl on 
the diviaioo of labor, rr.en produce goodß '^hich ar.) distril:>uted as property anon/g^ 
the norl).?rB of soclety. Oertain diatribution of t-;oods create^> certain depenclonciefj 
anon;:: non. Society is^ the organizatior. of ;ion whica is^ doternined by the produc- 
tion and distribiition of ^^oods. The ::;ovint- principlc of iiocioty ig int ^rort« It 
indicates tlio pXaco aad function ^licii th^i; f?;iat<lo ntsmoer? or ^roi^s vds... tc have 
vdtiur. th-. frarnovrrrV: of society, 

The ?i-9tons of depondonci-i? ?md aiitap;onisms in fhr noderr society are tlie cr^icial 
problens of the nodor/i world, Thoir djmcir.ic:^ and tlicir noveuerts are tho specific 
topic of th'.: nev; science nf cociet: v/^dch ir> lor^ relevant than political p-iilo- 
sopl-y. Stein in of tho opinion that tho 'p-^.riodr-* of pclitical and constitutional 
rr-foriiR and rovolutionR are j^ono, This la tho ora of social roforn*^ aiid S'-cial 
Torol^iZLo:.^. S-ciolo.-^ ir tho f^ci^ntific i:^preBsion of thU sit^iation of tran-^i- 

?\ie ^^tatv. is C'.efinod "x-^ Stei/: as tho inntitutioi: vhich :\t:^^^ It possil^lr to u::.ite 
tho indivir-Airl will^^ of freo n.rA indapond'.nt Citizens in the ni^^ihor will of coi>- 
non dectii:;/. The ^.tat'*^ is in a norn=\tiv'-> sc^ii^o the •»anif ication nnd sholtar of 
froiijdon. Actually vunder the corditionf> o.t tho i:irlustrial society, it h-.s occoße 
tfc.3 clars ntate v:iic:i'. Lr\.n co-fuijed tru: tvo srnerea of society tviß stato. 

"Uic -'ork T:'jcrr:.:o c;r iv:.cludeB a thv^ory ''f rovrlatior ^rhich rako^ it poGöi'blr' to dv3- 
fino th aif:i>.rjnc3s bGt^^'-..on political and social rcvGlatioj:S. T-io GO.rXal revol^Jr- 
tion is tho fact vOiicn thc^ sociolo.:ist analyzes in .tho or:iy)irical Btudy of nodom 
rocial --/.^i^^nts. The nodern prclotariat doüs not cucccod to advr^ice tv proporty 
•md indoDondenco^ Oaoital niid labor appoar iw. absolute opponites, Tl.iu social 
rcality ci-or.t.i:. the cori;:=ci^iyneBf^ of a fatbfiil Bit. Nation rf ciassos. 

Accor^ir tn ^t in, the ötato i^ the vor- in^tit^ition ^v^iich c;- control tho rovciT>- 
ticnar- ^it-uation. In partici:.!::.!-. tho n-M.archy sonder thiß Gituation hai^ tao uniquo 
-r^portunit'^ t'. r-dutc^ratc th. revoluti'-^nary social .donent^ into tlift ^^-i^^"^. ^^ ^''^ 
v^d- nolitic as thv' ahvltor axid franc of frer;don. i'or tho power of tnvi hi^-.eBt 
cxecutivr car i:ach nor ; oaciiy nast-^r a.xd control th^ varioty of intorcoto in a 
'>.'-xietv f-r t-o bonefit of tho vfholo which is continuously nurrounded by t'.e 
proGPur^. ::f f'^rv>irn -olicy t:;an a ^on-^cratic pfirli.ui-r;-r v^-ich i- nainly concornv.a 
-dt^ cor^-^^-^tic prohloiiJj ard with gatinfvinr t-io doBirc^:-^ of pressure ^,;ro-upi>. nc 
-v>Gorro-tc.^ -vhc '»S^ci^^l Mo.L.srchy" ao ontr,blisher; in th.^ Sc^ndin«^ian countri^vB r.;iid 
l^ 3ci^.>tific/'ll7- exafbcrPtod by ol^e Oomaif "Sroinliot- of the Chair." (uodo^rtus. 
Sch^'ffle. A. Wo.:n.»r). I^arx il;^;■^ callcd Stein tho social r-3alist vrith ta^ nrntle 
'>! ir'ealiS'-i- Ko na^ conbinod the trf,ri^.ti-a -^f Hei-^oUan realie«- with tna pr:vi^atic 
'.'ra ^^rxirical r^aÜBr. vf the Fr-:nch sociolo^^ist? and 3Ccialiots5. Hf- haa o-enod 
n-v -^cic^^tiii*^ avcnues for tho Hndy of th^- i::-toraati-^i :^3•^d interdopendanco of.. 
th.^ social c?nd p:0.itical strata. He hji^ inaa^rurated a R^ciolo.-y of political r^d 
'ULTinistrativc inetitutions. He haf^ rocr^rizcd the indepondont f^i:lction cf tne 
otM,tr av-d i^ ir thii^ rr^npoct ^Tuch r:oro roaliatic thai^ Marx. His norko are a con-- 
tributiou t'. srciolofical thjory, to th? thoory of- rcvoiution. and to hrw- oocic^ 
\.egical^ hif'tcry ■^S ideac. 






Al>9tract 3.P 

II. The frant^jw-^rk f^f Gerr'mr». 'iocdolo<' 



Selected work^ t;d. "br t:.-e Kcsccw fer:;>:ilnr;els Institdtt^ in transi:;.tion, 19Ci7 

The aor^in:-. Idüolo,-r, 1931 

Bari:; ^^riting, Selocted, 19:^8 (p-^orl;; translat^vl) 

Marx-ti.n.^clt: G-^i'^^ju.itaxis^i^al^d, ecl, i-.-^ PJaza-nov, li^25— * 

Har::.-Ln;:oir. Archiv (Di utsc/i^. IdGcj.O:",-ie) , 19P.5 

For tlie ntudo-it oi hiRt^rical na^-^riallBn i^-ho r':r;l5 G-^irn-v thc nost advisa^blc tert 

in thcj :.';,-)de:L cditir-; ■ f r-ciolr^rrictil writinf^s '^r; S. Landshut — Karl i-iarx; I-or 

Hi:^tori3c:.:, Matcrialii^nus, "^ vols, 1032. It contain?^ the foll^^na, article« üi\^. 


in th^; fir^t volmie 

I. Sone ])aGF;j[i.c:;;f^^ of tho doctoral di^seriation which deal vitL BOcialo:::ical 
-c^.Tditicrs ^f specific philoa'^-'-jüical attitudos, 

II, Gritinue of rW;el's phiios-r.n.'.- '^•f th(-.i Btate, 1841-43. 
III. 3nci^lO'-ic.aI analys'^s ir tlie lui.rinincho Z..-itiin/-:* 194?>-4CS» 

lY. Fror.] th® Doutsch-Frans^sisch:? Jahr'i^icher, 1843-44. 

a. ?Air J-adent""ra{se , 

"b. C^ir KritiPr. der ht.,:;olr,C'V.r.r Kechti?T>'iilf^B'-pl-it'. 
7. Natioral^hoi-df^ ur:d Philo«--')ni o, 18^^:4 (v^r:- inp--rtant) 
n, The 'icly 5'/-:iil:-, 184'V45 

Ihe dialoctic ^.^tvfecij. proli^t^^riat and wealth. ^ 

Idr:a a:\d intorost. , 

histr-ry anr. ^^p^^culati-n, 

d# S";;at ai:.d ^our^r^oxn a-cioty. 

3. vritic;! c^rMat a|f':ai.v^t 7ronch liatorialinn. 

f. ' lli-.tvro VirA history. 


in the f?ec.:nd volTono 

VII, ^-?ho G-crr.uan Idc-.clOr:y. 

VIII, '^13 ri3t?ry -^f philoRophy/r^t;i'-ctl'^t>?=:. 

Wo;^lth and clasB 'rr.ta •'^niir'is, 
Auarchy of pr<^ductio?:. 
^*otn^?:l;:^«:.c& ^1" politigal öcon-'iy. 
Dirision of la'^'or. 

IX. Co. 

S. LaJ:c''3hut*«-ICritik dtt S-^, i9r'9 

S. H'^ok-r-To^.r^rd tnc UnderotaiKUn^ :■ ^f Kari Karx, Ncv' Yorh. 1933 

S. ho^]^ — Ir-:.. h.';/:=:cl to Marx, Hov; Yor'' 1936 

B,. Oroco — liictcrical hat.;rialii:?n and the iOcon^nice of Karl aarx, •^iW YorK, 1914 

h. 3o( — •licon'-: ic I'itor >retaticv -f lir.torr, Hev; Yorh, 192!L' 

.] It. .^, Scli.;na,n-*-r' Intt^ri:retat ^or nf HiiBt'ry» l'«*^-V' Y'rl<, 1903 

'h : V lDl32>— Th^ Place of Scienc- ii. Hodorn Civilizatir-i, 19X0 

■; 0;>lu\p::ia:i jOTLS; (iSlC-l^as); studi.>d \i,v arci piiilorophy at Perlin, J'-na; j-inud 
:o ra^ücal <^tudoi;t«^ -f h-^-el»s in Berlins 104;^ editor of th': r.dica- ^iK;:.uischo 
•^^vtunr;; 10•h^ in Paris, editor of tj.t^ "D..)utf3ci>-Pran2rtj?iRchv3 Jahrbttcher"r 1848 in 
■. .„t^seis iriondshiK with Bn^-^ls, thv^ "Conj-oiiist Kanif sto"; 1340-49 in O'^io,n ; 

••F.^ui- H^:^.i?iij?che Z^^^ituntr"; 1049-1'j03 i- L;,ndon; 1364 International ^/crk^rs As^^ocia« 

r T^. btr.^::-!- a.rairB^ l-a'cuidn; 1067 Das^ l^anitnl, vol. I, 


Lorenz vom Str.i:: -anaerstcod the plac^ and roriction of sociology as the scientific 

e:q>rv^s9ion of a i^ituation ^f p.ocial revolution, Marx chan^ed its rolo fco thalr of 
a scientific tco:. of the social revolutior. Hir. sn^rinc in 5äk fi.^-^npi^, ^^otjlf^S^ that 

tue have nerel- ihterpretod the world in different \>;ays, "but it oucX^t 

to be chn.n/:od is the -orinar:' datur-. -'i his Fociology. His T^; is that theory 

and ->ractice. ah^-uld ".-.e.'ud and n^rm^^ actually V.u^t theov- i^ coripl^toly al:;Gor^oed 
l^y t.,8 r -^crair-Mi-^nt? ':-t' tu-:- rov^lvi.ti->»-.arv 7:ractice» 

Marx vrac attr-cted '•i-.:. repids-^d '\y Ho^ol. H« v'as r^p^-ils^^i b_y the. nystical --^-^^^gI- 
loctiJirAipr ••rhic.: 7 revaded the total process of ovolutiori. He \jr'ä fascinatoa oy the 
principXc of the pro^^res-^ ir\ tiie cc-.'sci'.iinneBn of fre-^don and the cancollatxcn of 
thc: ali-r-.nnti'-^n rf th? solf in the rocorxili.'-t ". on of reas->n. a.O-d reality. ii:ially, 
h.) v^uc. attracts?:'. "^y the wialysis of the boan-^joi? s^'Ciety in th>.^ y;hiJ.-c^op^ 2£> 
Ei-ht as th- üy^teii -.f n■?d«^ aM--' ^f ?u>Jectivo and no^ativo nor^uity. 

He shifto«: äi^locticcd : .etrliodR t- th.^ -con'nic :>n^'. social ^-rocdse. his revolution^ 
ary thoc^ic --..nd f.,ocioio/:icai. h''^:''3 rofsts vit"; th^5 con-'-iction that tte- tni-^ pro/^rrcss 
irx' h-imn^i fr-edoii and thv.- r ;ustahl.Uhnont of n nn.tiJLral and hunor. worlc) \dll tahe 
-lo.C'.; i:-L thv) dial-cticaj. av.-lution of the nat^vrial ovolution. The er.ano ipat ion of 
ran as over r5„ d ^v^ain^t hi;^ alion^tion in t^i^^ world of Focial i.:stit\j.T3io-^?^^is the^ 
rerr' tc^ic --f .iio tv-.ciolQrxcal ann.lyeeG vhich cnd in the pi.ononenolo-y of £a£ ü;^^^^- 
ial. Mar :lr; orrducin^ hiv. life oM iß creatinr; .-lis ovr- co:..ditions. -e hinsolf 
hrinti'f^^' '-•xistcipco t/;e ohj j^cts v/hic.i :ua]:e hin d-i^pcndont and ^iiifre^ and z^ive 
hin the av "^r-ne^n '-'f ^:ein;: thr> ^-iotir of anonynous c-)joctiVfc forces, This nrlces 
his «oci.-t;vL raationh'T^ir^^v do!h;.na.^izoc'., The prol(:t.rriat in the ultir.:ate v^iq^rcs- 
-i-n -I ^0 do:r^;ani7ati".;n of :vu: under the conditl^ns («f iu.:ustrira--technolo^;ical 
ur.^rn aocio^v 'vhicU it^ •')aj?ed on nroporty ri,:htB. If th( proQ-appr.oition i^-' ric;ht 
that th-.^ nrcia;. vvolatior itself i<:^' r-in^ to cijpto th.. r-alii^^iti^r of tn^ i:.v^a of 
ir^;.3co^ out of :.t<^ LÜolectic, thon the proletorint will c:mcöl th., alienation a:id 
vidi r^^-^ßt-Mis-. t:^-.^ h-:j;an d^^rocracy and the no.tural sociaty. 

Kr^rx ^IJ^^^r^ i-^ th:^ aniv^rsai e^cliatcio-ical h-li.f of .li^' ti^o-. hi. naf^ f^nitteci 
tV- Ho.'.liaL, dialoctic. of t.ia rind int ' a rc^al, dir.Lctic ^f t:.^ social or^c^^ss 
vfhic- !istrd>liBhos tho trie :w;n:i froedon ':y olininn.-oiivf; «' antai-c-isnc 

<,v. .-1 (^ iA c' tr»- "i i 
.Li.»;. N.*^ ^^ *• ■•*•-- 

nhe ■!>c:.ltical doni:-^ation. 

ITht^ ter-i. «hic^türic^l o.terialipri, •' ix^ chiofl;; uw..d hy h-Vv^le t;^ inricate t-ie ain- 
t- et clv^rf'Ctcr vf the revolutionär- nociolot.y, in n/i^i ruous. It irans: o:>piri-^ 
cni r-'sorrrch i-.^.^ social novom.^-ts, tranrfer of t:^^ t^ci^ntific conc^pts 01 In^r anc. 
f^voluti'->:- to tüc <;ocial sphoro and that the novorc-nts of s^-ciety nnd of roason are 
detern^^^o:' y- br^e j^tnictnro a3id the autononicB ^f th^ ec-n-nic factors. In t-us 
..qs-^at w Ho.rol«3r^cta);hi8icn tw olonontn of T^os^itive ai.^. r^nlir^tic taiJAi:in^; cone 
to ti'^ f^^rf: firsu, the r.:^cc -;ition '>f 8oci;>l detcrrunatior ^-u^d.tne total aiGtori- 
'^it'^'of nar -vitain tU^ o>'cI^ticr. r^?? total social proce^B; st;CO'id, the special ot>. 
piv:.^in 0^ prerc^nt social realitr p^^d the trannltion fro- cot.cid.-ations of t..cory 
t^- ti;:.nv '^f practicc. 

harv« Oriticvie o: ..egrl». ^hiJ^OM:^ Cl i-L^li^ i- ^'^^ :-;anii<.otatio of^tias dovelop. 
- .nt *^> thoroTi^hlv analv?. .? the ccnotr.ts an.^. th.-ir otructiiro. In ais mvostignr- 
tior.*^-e -aT-rcr t-^ ho a i^inod student of :io,:el and corrects the thv:or(itical ni?^ta]c3S 
r,f th- 'i^atnr. Accordin ' to Marx, it is the fundainental or.-or of Ilegßi tnat ao 
n^d^'t^- actiial •abjocte :f tle r;hilo?ophical world, th^ concreto; hiirian heintrs. 
th- ^.ro-ic^t -f :..i^ thourdit, Khile elv;vatin/: th^ ahstracc lo^:icnl cat^j-jries .0 
••he stihjoct of :-ir dio.iecticfi, ?.:is nen.ns, in sociolo äcal Utdü, that social 
reaiitioo ard^Mitionr are oiovated to lofty ne^iain/rs r^^^X ^nancipatod fron 
t^->0xr actuol rhvnrjvicn wid their ■'^jctivin,: and caxtstaininr forcej^, Thus. i;ar:: pre- 
<)erv^^" th^ 8" Jit:r -f dialectice. :ie ostaMi«h?s its trie neauinc a^ inhcrent in 

social ror\lity and i-i trio dim.:uiic procesr^es vrAcli c^rr.titute that actualit;-', over 
and aj-ainst th.. panlor-intic\\ialectics of the r.ind, This real dialoctic trdcos 
place in the eccr.onic p-tructure of the industrtal v/orXd, m\6, political econony 
"beconeB tlie anatony of l)ourr:eois Bociety, Thf Ho^-^ülian diilectic of tho ninvi is 
fu"bnerpsd l-'.*tho'roaX dialcctic- bf history, v/hose incentives are to be found in 
the anta":onißtic forcos of tho econclc structuro. 

2hiB uotion h^^ojib tliat anr develo-nrent nf scciety will brin,-: into ^ixUtenCK itf. 
counterforc-3s. In every historical s-ciety tlr^ rovoluticnary force«^- are t..c prod- 
uct c.f t:'i:: B)ecific constcUation of social c^ntrol ar.r^ do.iination. Tliis tlie^is 
'' evident in tho cano of iiod^rn capitalißn. In its structure tho r3Tol-i>- 

tirnar:/ roaüt:" devoloTis not only in Tmt throu.-h the institutions of ta:- e::ist;inj. 
r.ociety; cr>v?ital and free lal:or, ^o\ir,-€Oisie and Proletariat are dialootiCi>aiy in- 
■üorvroven. In tno r.iodern industrini world. dialectic entors the socio^econonic 
t'tructure, 'boccjiPR the dynonic of history and the pattemfid novenent cf society, 
Soci'üty oplitf; int^ two hoGtilo alir^nnents vrhich are '--nposod to stand in front 
^f v-ach ot^.er, liko arriior. in a war oi classes, 

*rh.- cato-'or^ x: clußf^ as ta^ STjöcific T)rinciplc: of stratif ication in industrial 
f^ociety, lv\B 1:eo- elj^l^oratcd \>:/ Marx as ai: inte^irral part of .-ia atialyr^ifJ of c;:vpi- 
taliPt' ciocietv. He T^ointod out that thi^ i^ the nevr t:;pe of stratif icati^n, 
Mracall- difforunt ir-n r,-ci^'*tios l^asod on estat-^s or corr.^orations. Tnt now 
•orincrilt of clasF vro9^rry^■)Os^v. worlrin/' of a froe ocononic rmrkot, of frue ^ 
corT)Otition and of lor-al equality, It ib tho inescTOaLle ror^ult of the bo^irgeoio 
rov^iuti-a an'^ f-rnal -aualit- heforc the law vhich stren^then^ the power of th.. 
lu^i^mshod ocon-^nic forc^s. It nado p^ssi^l- f^-cial relati-^B in -ri^ich tno .u.1 
.Bri?toncc of hiui;m ^)oin.-B do-erdnd on tho functionin.- of the ec-noriic syßten, 
The CRntrai i-.f^itio : of the. oa' nr,r.,c riarket f^r th ^ total exiBtence of tn^ indus^ 
tripl w r^cer, :ii« rhytlm of lifo, his -.ocurit- or insocurity, riaJ-en it possiole 
t- o^ta^^iish t-... intorr:aatio^:s;h.ip of classo3 a^ tUe c^trictural eienents of noc^ 
er- «^ociotv, 2uc idea of c1o.sf scciet- postulates tho corr^l^te dependencG ot 
s-cioi relativns and Situation^ on Position and function in tne pr-^cess of pro-- 
ductxon. withrat tahiue- int^- acco^^^t rm^^ le^al, p-aitical, or noral olenents in 
Br.cial'intordöv.ondenco^ It is a specific thosis -f Marx, that, m tho V^-^rioe..t 
cardt- lisn. Society nas enterc-d a structure of clasR^-relationr. vrnicn v^^^al. fron 
th;> o^ror^iiGlrin- ir^act of tho econonic T,roco«Res of a nobile indußtrirl vorld on 
nll rattern:? of ^ iDeiiavior. Thi3 thc-ry .f claos society sa:-e t^X nen aro^Äory^ ^ 
,,lot3ly :Seternire(^ \>v their T)Osition in tho nrocess of pro^Vaction anc. tnau gocip,. 
TTZitieF lui^t V.: considered ac a context of Uro ant^v-nistic ciac^Bee, 

T]iit> s^^ciol :icr., ^malyf^is of n Bociety of class^t-s ^P'^nn up ^^notner p:^rsp3Ctivo 
of Karxif^ji Bociolofy; thr sociolo. ical prol>lemc of ideas and idooXo.lös. Marx 
woy awar^. that in thip> rc.spect he v;a- inde.bted to the natoriali^n of the ex, ->• 
teenth Century, Sensufilisn, pnych'-lOf-y of interc^f?t, utiiitarioMsn, rmd elenentr. 
of rn inecjia^iirtic rsycholot-ry v7-3rc alrc;ady fashionaTolo ar:onr: th-: ror.ical p.iiloso- 
phers in tho pro^r^ivolutionar:' epcch. Marx introducod the ideat? aiid trv: cor.opte 
of i.i<-'-.lo; ioG^ int- hie .^malypip. of t..e cla8?^ Bociety of capitalir>n. iie carefully 
differen-siatos tv;: strata; the politicrd-le^-al vcrA the caltural^-reli-ious 
ptructurojA. T.i,- latter are only reflexos and nirror the vdshöB and postulo,tes. 
tho orido and sclf-jußtif ication ^f the existin^' clasF.ea wiV/.out any rolerrjice lor 
r-i.ality, Tne forner are ideal o;lenent^: of social realit?' and are p'-iv-Tfui and 
offoctivj in '^.oldintV 1^* 

U thip ^T^.jro, M(a-»xiBt doctolorjists urwlly apply th ^ ti.eory of th^. '^latinatc 
effoctivoneos" of cicononic force«, in rrdor to oFCape a'-n of tho role of 



ideas in -istory. In his historical vritiivs and in Ms ^^^f^^^f ""^"'^°^' "-^^f^ 
still norr^ c-Teful in i>.terninint: thtxt ir.tsrr.ction. There. he fr>;^quentl, spc.oKS 
cf tho intorrelationship cf idervs rnd t'ic -.r^nnir.ati-r. of production; s«'''-*^^^^^^ 

ful el,w.nts of r-ality. It is th'^«^ parc.ptions which are not l^' '^f^^^-^'^*^ 
fvnd which r .n^ü". in. oxist.-^noa --rly ^^ecau.o of tl.3 pmtcctive fur:Ction o. its 

Eil.= r, .cio-6Ccr; -lie nx^ulysis -f .•^ll patterns of thin^cineC ^^«^te^- *^;! «"[^f "'Lf 
fluenc. 6r. tlic. scientific and r^voluti-nary dev^loprumt "f Mar:, s !h rntr-^ritv 

iri' r8ruinc-.'-ss -f ".r-.l and spiritual idaas, ^y fiivinr: tnau a P.ator^aliRtic li*- 
"It.." on ..vrdeeply .nfluenced all eociolo,:ical effort« e.ven wi hout aay xn- 
tor.ti.n ;f rwportin,; ^^ revduti ■nar- proßrrTU Tr.c radxcal purBuxt ex,.. 
nnaiv-aeB« t'. th.. doscriptior. of cnpitili.t .ocicty as '\P-^^"'^^f =^; ^;.; ^. 
i.'.oi.-„.--ic.-Vl ;>: its very natura. It ie th. epoch of total scli-alienati^n a^.a Ox 
ccr.r.l.t:o'b::jectifxcatior. ri^usnoes." ThiB stror.,>. ccnoxnation of naterxal- 
isn nnd Ix.lectxc in tue tUoory of xdeole,i.s pointc to f^^^^^^^^^^Z-^^^ 
ti.rtcr- tr -.n-actxcc. Actually, tho theorr of Marx xs t.aat, xn r^.clutxonar, 
sit-J/xti-i."rJ.l social ard -filitioal thoorios hav^a TDoeri r->v«al4d as i„^olo,,x..s. 
I .xa.,Vt; fror. thi. interpretation. howcver, hi3 ■^^^^:^ ' ^J ^%:^ ;;?^.!^' 
v.^.xc. aVe -lot proletariar. in cririn ar<: inevitatly falsiixcp.txone f Z;^-^ f;^^;," 
ec-.nonxc rcnlity Mr-rxisn. which for the fir.t txn. «..s t..e ^^'^^ 7^ .*;J;^^^.^. ^.^., 
natxirc of 30ci:ä theorir,^ i^ th^rr-V ronderod exrrrot xron t:;c rartxa. ..nspe.ti^ t-s 

of earlxer dnctrines. 

?ron ^1-0 r;.rel- scioutific nnint of vic^w, ^•^ can conc--.do__to Kr.rx a vaiia and_ot- 
i«ctive'./con:räc rj-.alysxs of the capit^aist Btructure. .--ov.-.jtr, *-;^ ^^^^■^■^;^*:,^"; 
;r-.- .ociolo,-.'. papularly na-.ed hi.torical .'^.atorialisn, cannot l« accord.d .ucn a 
scientific Vt .aus, '.ecaueo it is ..s.ntially a noniativc and •:"<=f'^*:^"«;:^f .,^^?- 
r-r^x.? As sociolo^'ists. however, wo .ro intor.eted in the ^^^^-^^^"^ ^^^^ 
cncient. rf thir, Hrrxiar sociolory. It is nrtworthy tnat tho .■malysxs c. t .e .^co- 
n; ic «tructuro ^-or a. deecribo. thorou..hly th. ^.cific feature. of ^)^^ 

dustrial ccono:v. '^^- i^ not the ca.., howovor, .-^.cn ^'^^^ ^-'^'^^ ^^^^J "^ ^ 
titious^:r:,ua nanei;; the r:atcri.alistic c-ijc'otxon of Bociety. Thx. l» ot ...- 
;ir^^ -malysis of fr..ct8. Ho trunsfor.s or.d vi.ualizes tho.e '';^^^-^\^''^'.^ 
V-p pointof vi«vr of r;-recaT,italiFt Pruseiar, «oldior. Tne de.crxptxon '^^^ ^'-^^^ 
Bocxal c.r.flic;; in .ilitary torr.s it certaxnly not a scientific ^^^^:^^_:^_^-^ 
,>-,nif.-'.t;'ti-r of rovolytionar; .lilitarisr.. Tho cater:;ori=3s of a war -x, 
t-' r ;ii ■;■-: the raserv. arnr of cnr.ütal. are d.rived fron the ternxnologr 
of n s^.cict.. -fci^h vas thoro,^dxly ir^-n^^d vith the s-,irit of r nilitari.tx. x^iufe 

Tt ir. ;-:oteworthv triat tho K^^rsiao eociolo;;:' has heen noct effoctive ir. :.Uitaiw 
i<,-.ic c-.'.--orlf-s' like HuGsia, Pruflaia^Göf-nany, Pr'l tue Aastrian irij^xre. In so- 
ciotxer/xät.: Ixberrl .nd dcnccratic tradxtions. ''ocialirt^novenentB wer.- carried 
cn i;; t:v3 hi:u-.-.f..nitaxim. or Chrir,tiPr.. spirit --t thoce princxples. Jaifxox xa 
rr.-nco nor i:i the United States ar.d '^r^land hi-.s Marxir,n over played an xntsfero... 
^art in t.-e worl-rers' novon.ntr-, oxcopt in s-no P.-.all cro^apsof mtellectuals. 
Ki8 •^tr^w-o inpact of precav-italistxc and nilitaristxc viaxonö nxf--ut ^i^^^ 
;;" ;SSvoSionary socioio,,; of Mr.rx a.pear« a« t..e contxnu.,txcr. .^d corr.c- 
tior -f the consenrative rocial phxl-^flophy of no^el. The anxfyxnf: ox.-n.nt .8 
^irtainly :i<'-ol'. --recäntation ,i civil rr.-^cief/ ao a f^t-v^-o of cccial trur.ratxon. 

In thift, Ho/^el cnplo:/3d the pröcapitalistic ct\tdj.:ori'5s vlacri the 
feucVil ar.d .nilitary ciasr, in Pmssia had used to c:q)ress its contcnpt for tho oo 
cupr-tions ancl v;a:^s of lifc m civil society, The cliüpara^?:onent of civil or "bouP'- 
pe-)!? societ:' ir tho imifyir^, tio bct^-^een tiio tw ^lirUectical s'-.ciolor^ints. It 
leadB, in tho cas? of Keßel, to the tran??fi^uration of th? State, and, in tho case 
rf Marx, to tha utopia of a classloss society, ThiR interr'^aatior..nhip hotwoeri 
th-;f ravo?uuticnar:' and conservativo node of thinkin^; clarifies the estra-a^onont 
of G-ernar. thovi^<-:ht fron the traditicns of tho Westom Enli,-^htr,'nr:iont. In France 
nnd Hnj'lcor.d, in Spain anf. Italy, "bcth conso.n/ativ(> arid prO:^:r(:r^siv-c ^lenents hav9 
alw.ayg t:i]?:c lor /rranted tho exintcnco anc. ar.nditi^'nn of r, civil and econonic 
society, Thero war> u- feudal arro>^,'a?Lce or depreciation of the occupationa ojid 
v.'ayr of lifr:- in civil society. It p^heds sono li.-s'ht on th: devv.aopr.ient« loadinr; 
t'-^'/fjirds t.:e total itariar re^:;ir:e in The hatrc-d of the proca]iitalii3tic 
feiidal cl<ir-;s6R for ind\ir.tri=\l srclety coincided vrlth th- r^-^volLLti^.nary nilitarisn 
of tho Moxxipt scciolo/.y, This nirVd "bo im exT'lanati'-n of txi3 ^;tran^:^^ affirAty "je- 
tvüon he;;:ta an.* Marx, witLin \\r^iich th'3 G-ernan sociolo-^cal t^ffortc cone into heing» 





...a, ÜHSOBT OF ^CXiOi 0O^.m)L . iat>«rt SaLoaoA 



arÄdtunt« eoim«. Fall te». 1htunid«3r«. 6t80-8t00 ?,m «hw« polati 
of ex^ll« 

(^•nerai problem» of dtpend^ncy and Indepandenc«, Itoaiaatlon and Mrrlttid«, 
prcductiTity aad reo^ptiyitjr ä« prlmary pfttt«m» of control» l?irpe« of 
fiociftl eontrol: authority, prectlga, ©ore«, Convention«, «tyle«, fanhions» 
1^©s of l©»d#r«hlp, typet of Imreaucracy, type« of inetitutional pressure, 
Miui vdthin and without eoelety. 


■ .-T*ik~-»r -wvrv^r --^^^w^^tm^B^^ 'Tw^ •" ^^W9^r^ww~- 

DK>Xin9XirCT ATD nimPSICDmm • Al^rt Salowa 

SMittar. Fall %•». TImrtday«, 4t 00 * 5:40 ?M. Hbrmm poiats of endit» 
Ih« ••Binar «dll tttiay th« role and plao« of the ind6p€»d«iit intallectual 
ia OUT soci^tjr« Säi^liaftlt oä the problem of d«peiid«!ic# and Indopendenoa» 
laTacti^tioB of the conetnietiTe role of some private orgianitatlone to 
••eure the •vrrlTal af tha Indepaadaat ar^atlT« p^r^oa« 




.^0« filSTO&T Of SOCIOLCQf . Altert SalOMA 
Arftdmftte eotort«. Fall tem« Ttiosday«, St^^XV-StOO F.ll« fhr«« poi&%« 
of cr«Alt. 

fixe nev and revolutionary character of sociology &s comparod to all type« 
df «oeial phllosophy« Xts conditions in the mer^ing of TarlotiA ravolution«* 
fhe ftociologlst ae a nmi t^pe of int€illeet\ial» fhe sgrth of soclatjr aad of 
histoiy in the rite of sociolo^* Saiai-»SlBon, the Saint-SimoniaaSt Heine, 
BaliaCt Bonald, Comte. The conetruetiTe and deelnustlTe elemeate of the 
nev scienee* The religion of pregres«, the eschatologgr of the ecientific 
method, The «arth of hietorys Hegel, Marx. Ihe layth of progressive 
erolution: %}encer» Sociology as es^irical scienee; Jurkheim, hie school 
aad Liry-Brahl, Simmel, Vehen 


Oradnate eonzM. Bpring tmxm. fhurtday«, 6:20-8100 P.M» l!hr#« pointe 
of er«dit« 

flie cotirse de&ln vith the social theori#« of Sinaael and ^eher as far a« 
th«y are ccncem<*d with the Classification of societal relationahip»» 
Subjaet of di«cu»»ion will he the sjethodological prohlerat of their systaai- 
atitatioa of the atu»«tiont of th« philosophier ralrranca of sociologleal 





•■, CIASSI CS II A tBBOKT 07 HEfCiimoI - Albert SaIosoii 
SMiaAr» Mlf t«ra« llmrtdayt» 4:00-5:40 P.X* fh]«0 poi&tt of ow&lt« 
iMdin« and Interpretation of the gr«at books i^leh dMl vi^ a th#ery 
of r«volution. Arlatotlat Folitiea. Book ?• MftChiaT«lll, 2iÄSßlll# 
ü'oCiiatTllla, ffre i^ncloii Begjme. and th« RffYft^Ut^Pfi, M^ -'%?ng^rit 
Far#to, Mind ^nd S,,cisty (Circul&tion o f eilte), Buröha», 



The cours« will Interpret the eontriWtlon« of Bub#r and BosmitMif ^^ 
articiaate thair «paclf ic aehiarmaiita as dlatin|s«tiiliLad frem nmxk^gß^H^ 
and Ecide^^r, Bubar eantera hia phlloaophy of oonerata axiatanea arotuad 
a plurallty of antual ralationi. calBlnatlng In tka phlloccphy of I and 

l ' ü ! ^ i mMiii iw^wwwfi* 

lba#n«vai|: »tart« from tha phanomanon of axiatanoa idiieh ispllaa fal^h aa 
a aaca««ary aleaiant of hnaan aattura. Faith if tha ■mtuallty of craattura 
and Creatort raralatlon tha «utuality of spaaking and liatwaing« radwiptioa 
tha ffiutuality of lorin« and being lOTad. 


Boa««i#tig«« Waw fhlnking la applied to a crltlcal analyaie of the Ixmm 
«Itttatlon and to »odam philoaophy and thaolofy. fto idea» of tawporallty, 
I and fhou and Ood-vorld*Ȁn idll ba earafolly axamlnad. 


Albert Salomon 



Sooiology as the Slynthetic Science of Total Evolution 

Introductlon: The development of sociological thlnking vas detemdned by the poli- 
tical and social revolutions rather than by the continuity of proMems and questions 
brought forth by Montesquieu, the Encj^clopedists, and the Scottish School» In spite 
of the praise vhich Comte, Hegel, and Marx bestov on their forerunners, their own 
works result from the experience of a fundamental disruption and revolution of the 
totality of life© This experience has repercussions on their metbods, their Prob- 
lems, and on their general attitude tovards their tasks and responsibilities« Ex- 
perience and reflection on it establish the characteristic features of the new so- 
oiology as different from all previous characteristics of the social scienoes» 

!• All works share in a religious eschatological attitude regarding future or 
presento Hegel is keenly avare that his vorks express the Situation of an endj the 
French, English, and revolutionary thinkers knov that a perfect and final World is 
in the making» 

II. They all believe in the unlimited faculties of human intelligence to bring 
about a total control of human life in time and space« 

III» They all start from the hypothesis that humanity, collectivity, or the univer- 
sal is prior to the individual and the concrete« 

IVo They all have discovered the sphere of historical evolution or progress as the 
very actuality of social relationships and as the total self-realization of mind, 
seif, and society» 

V. They all londer stand this uniqueness of total evolution as a total immanentism* 
This makes it possible to combine historical relativism and eschatological absolut- 
ism in the analysis of social problems» 

VI. They all rely on the scientific intellectualism vhich is certain to knov the 
meaning of the process as an understandable chain of evolution. 

VII. They present the new types of scliolarship : romantic eschatologist and scien- 
tific planner» 

Whatever may be the difference between Comte and Hegel, St. Simon and Marx, Spencer 
and Enfantin, they all share in these six common traits as the constitutive elements 
of a disrupted and revolutionary era in which religious faith, scientific convic- 
tions and revolutionary hopes are intertwined and concocted in the first dish of 
modern times indicating dynamism, intellectualism, immanentism as its characteristic 
features. In spite of the common heritage of problems and methods, these authors 
and these works already point out the rapidly expanding national differentiation in 
scientific thought as the result of the final victory of the national state since 
the French Revolution« Montesquieu and the Professors at Glasgow are closer to each 
other than are Comte and Hegel or Spencer and L. von Stein» This national differen- 
tiation in all sciences becomes one paradox of the nineteenth Century as conpared to 
the growing uniformity and technical standardization of the industrial societies in 
the Western world# 

I. The French School 

a) St. Simon, The School of St. Simon (Bazard, Enfantin), the Church^ and the 

"Mankind is not made for living in ruins." 

BIBLIOGRAPH^: L'Oeuvre d'Henri de Saint-Simon, textes choisis par C» Bougle (1925) 

Doctrine de Saint-Simon Exposition Premiere Annee 1829 (1924) 
Histoire du Saint-Simonism par S» Charelty (1931) 

Henri de Saint-Simon^ le sociallsm des productexirs par M» Leroy (1924.) 
La Jeunesse d 'Auguste Comte et la formation du positivisme par M« 
Qouhier, 2 vols. (1933-36) 

Henri de Saint-Simon (1760-1825) has suggested all fundamentals of positivism and 
the constitutive problems of Comte 's« Furthermore^ he has created the Image of the 
uprooted modern intellectual| the messianic bohemian as the product of modern 0ocie- 
ties able to rationalize the unconacious or irrational tendenoies, vishes and d«<* 
aires of different groups vithout contributing to the realm of scholarehip and to 


. 2 . 

the progress of science« He vas a man of great enthiiaiasm and capable of graeping 
quickly the longlng and the needs of modern Industrial societles« His vae a remark* 
able Intellectual and splritual senslbillty vhlch enabled him to envlsage a grandi- 
ose, new and peaceful world of industrial societies* 

His life histoiy mirrors the irresponsible and visionaary character of hia vritinga« 
After four years of service with VJashington in the war of liberation, he travelled 
in Europe, gained a fortune as a profiteer in the buying and selling of "national 
goods" during the French Revolution, lost it in the extravagant life of a grand 
seigneur who made it his hobby to study the natural sciences and medicine in order 
to find the scientific tools for ending the revolution and for establishing abiding 
peace* He devoted his life to this idea» He was supported by an old butler of his, 
he had for some years a Job as a clerk in the pawnbroking Institution of the state 
and was finally given a very small rent by his famiüy« This anarchic and bohemian 
life was filled and possessed by the vision of a peaceful and harmonious industried 
universe, a technological cosmos of comfort and benevolence« He published a varieiy 
of essays, booklets, Journals, and books, which spread his vision and his blueprints 
of its realization» He had no original ideas but became the mouthpiece of a new 
spirit« This new spirit is the transfer of the revolutionary messianism from the 
political to the economic-technological Stratum» It is the nj''stical transfiguration 
of the sciences as the modern Instruments of secular salvation» This new spirit 
connects the religious cults of the French Revolution with the amazing progress of 
the sciences 

a) the revolutionary cults 

1793 Cult of Reason 

1794 Cult of Supreme Being 
1796-99 Cult of Theophilanthropy 

b) the scientific achievements between 

Lagrange: theory of analytical func- 


Monge: descriptive geometry 
Laplace: Essay on Celestial Mechanics 
Cuvler: Element aiy tableau of the Na- 

tiiral History of Animals 
Bichat: Treatise on Surgery 
Carnot: Research on the Infinitesimal 


It was the ambition of Saint-Simon to become the Napoleon of science and to control 
the industrial world as a peaceful and planned universe after having enlightened the 
modern societies on the pre-scientific character of politics and metaphysics« 

BIBLIOGRAPHY: Les Origines des Cultes Revolutionair es par Mathiez 

La Theophilanthropie et le Cvilte Decadaire par Mathiez 

His is a society of "industrialists" in vhich cultivators, managers, entrepreneurs, 
and workers will be united in a harmonious and peaceful conquest of nature as ad- 
vised by the advisory board of scientists, artists, engineers and planned and organ- 
ized according to the suggestions of the administrative bodies which have svbstitiit- 
ed the antiqiaated political governments« This brave new world will be administered 
in the spirit of a new secular religion, the gospel of which is the universal broth- 
erhood of man and the postulate of which is the improvement of the physical and 
moral condition of man» This will make possible the Integration of the poor as mem- 
bers of society, independent and free society, 

Saint-Simon's writings can be divided into four groups: science, peace, industrial- 
ism, and the new religion« 

a) Science 

1802 Lettres d'un Habitant de Geneve 

1808 Introduction aux Travaux Scientifiques du XIXieme Siecle 

1810 Memoire sur la Science de l'Homme 

1814 Memoire sur la Gravitation Universelle 

He discovered the key to social happiness in the radical and universal spreading of 
scientific enlightenment, Scientists and artists should be made the rulers by a 
universal and voluntary conscription» It was the error of the I8th Century to have 
separated the worlds of freedom and of determinism« Actually, the physical and mo- 
ral facta are of the same ordert Facts can be analyzed« These analyses make it 
possible to explain and to understand the useful and effective results of a sequence 
of acts. The law of universal gravitation is valid for physical and social process- 
es likewise» "The rule of light is near#" Leave scientists alone without govem- 
ment interference, they will create a perfect world in which industry and peace will 
be brought into existence— the universal aasociation of mankind» 

There is a continuous progress in scientific thinking# All sciences develop from 
the conjectural to the positive State« From astrology, alcheny, and social laytholog; 

- 3 - 

to astronony, chemistryi and social phj''sics— -this process indicates the law of the 
three stages vlilch human thinking passes in all spheres of thought. All sciences 
tegin as a theologlcal explanatlon of natural facta, they pase into a metapl^rslcal 
explanation, and finalOy a scientific oneo The history of man as a thinking animal 
is the uninterrupted chain of thls intellectual progress« It is the general and 
central law of the new science of social physics« 

In the modern world, Bacon and Descartes have attempted to construct a universal so- 
cial systemo Saint-Simon sought to finish their work. For scientific revolutions 
result from peat moral crises« They create the great men. Scientific specialists 
are responsible for the intellectual anarchy^ We are in need of a general synthetic 
theory that can be verified in all details and applied to the pi^sical and social 
worids* This will be the science of social physics—what Comte has dubbed sociologyc 
it 13 the final progress of the development toward the positive state of thinking^ 
This evolution looks different in the organic and critical periods, These are two 
important categories. Organic eras exist where societies are integrated and united 
Dy a general theory, a collective conception of life, common Standards, and a belief 
in principles which are taken for granted. Critical periods are negative, reflec- 
tive, subjective, and without common beliefso Hence, the renascence of a scientific 
syntnesis and of an organic period coinciding in the thought of Saint-vSimono This 
tneoiy is carried on by the School and by Comte c It should be compared to Goethe «s 
theory of the periods of belief and unbelief as the positive and negative states of 
nistorical mankindt 

b) Peace 

In 18U, with the Cooperation of Augustin Thierry, who later became the great French 
nistorian, as his secretary, he wrote on the reorganization of European society and 
°^^ r/""^ ^ ^^^''''^ °^ ^^ abiding peace. In these vritings he still believed in the 
effectiveness of the institutions of parliamentarism and of political arbitration» 
His proposals were similar to the institutions of the late League of Nations and in 
many respects very similar to Maclver's suggestions in his "Toward an Abiding Peace". 

c) Industrialism 

1816 De 1» Industrie 

1819 L»Organisateur 

1817-24 Le Systeme Industriel. Catechisms des industriels (Nr* 3: Comte, system 
of positive politics-essay on the scientific tasks required for the reorgani- 
zation of society, 1822) 

Auguste Comte — his secretary 

1824. Organisation Sociale 

The main^concern of the industrial writings is best expressed in the "allegoiy", 
Here, Saint-Simon imagines the consequences of the respective losses of the politi- 
cal and ecclesiastical dignitaries and of the industrialists, artists, scientists 
for a society, The loss of the former would have no bearing on the progress of mod- 
ern societies while the destruction of the intellectual and technical elite would 
deeply disturb the social evolution o Saint-Simon concludes that the political in- 
stitutions are superficial and a nuisance» He states that the social actuality rests 
with the Creative work of the industrialists, scientists, and artists* The growth 
of the industrial class must finally comprehend the total society. It comes into be- 
ing in the harmonious Cooperation between creative bankers, industrial Organizers, 
and scientific planners o The anarchy and disaster of modern societies rests with 
the control of jurists and of political philosophers who take forma for reality and 
words for things. Futiore societies will have other worries than the defense of a 
Constitution. They will be concerned with the scientific truth about the right Or- 
ganization of production and distribution. In this industrial society there will be 
only two categories: industrialists and idle. The industrialists will consist of 
workers and capitalists in so far as they invest their capital in productive Indus- 
tries. All men are going to be workers for the commonweal: cultivators, craftsmen, 
bankers, scientists, artists, manufacturers. However, there is no equality, but 
hierarchy^ Everybody gets the advantages which correspond to his efforts, i.e. in 
his abilities and in his use of them including his capital* This is the national so- 
ciety of the future; an industrial enterprise in which planning administration is 
substituted for political govemment. Total planning is the feature of the free in- 
dustrial society, it will be administered by a planning board of industrialists and 
bankers on the basis of a report by an advisory board of scientists. Totalitailan- 
ism eliminates politics# 

ci) The New Religion 

1825 Nouveau Christianisme 

- ^ • 

Its gospel is the religion of the "Nev Christianism" • This is a secular rellgion of 
universal brotherhood vith the highe st evaluation of the poor whose ixnprovement of 
pl^sical and moral conditions is the content of the gospel# Saint-Simon condemns 
the two traditional institutions of Chris tianity because they have not Integra ted 
the progress of the sciences in their doctrines and hence not succeeded in conneot- 
ing religious and scientific thoughtc Finally, they have neglected scientific de- 
vices and technical progress in establishing industrial institutions and raising the 
physical, intellectual, and moral Standards of the overwhelming majority of the poor 
They have submitted to the temporal power instead of directing it according to the 
scientific and religious truths« 

The School of Saint-Simon (Bazard, Enf antin) 

Saint-Simon died almost unknovn« Only a fev young bankers, engineers, and disillu- 
sioned professional revolutionists heard his queer and romantic viords and took them 
as a message and a revelation« Among them vere Enfantin, a banker, who was deeply 
interested in economic and social proMems and Bazard, an old republican carbonaro, 
who was convinced that the times of political revolutions were gone. In 1825-26, 
they started a magazine in order to spread the ideas of Saint-Simon whom they used 
to call the philosopher of science, the lawgiver of industry, and the prophet of 
love (Le Productuer)o However, they did not succeed« For this reason, they ar- 
ranged meetingg and lectures and got the interest of many scientists, engineers, so- 
cial reformers, and thoughtful and responsible people who were anxious to know 
whither the modern society was driving» Almost all men vjho played a role in French 
socialism attended these meetings, and some of them such as Michael Chevalier, 
Pierre Leroux, Buchez, Blanqui, Pecquer, participated in the movement for some time^ 
These lecture-propaganda courses took place during 1829 and 1830e Most of these 
lectures were the original work of Bazard« Only a few were pr epared by Enfantin and 
Rodriquez who was in Charge of the religious Business . The "Doctrine de Saint-Simor 
Expose Premiere Annee 1829" is a masterpiece of French social thinking and a remark- 
able piece of prose, clear, precise, and lucid* Much more convincing than Saint- 
Simon before and Comte afterwards, they describe the so-called intellectual and so- 
cial anarchy, the need for a synthesis and a new organic period» In the deBcription 
of the intellectual progress through the inter-connected organic periods, they dis- 
covered a new law. It is the law of diminishing antagonism and increasing associa- 
tionism« The category of association and of universal associationism corresponds to 
the term socialism which was not coined earlier than 1834 when Leroux found it. In 
elaborating the economic aspect of the social problem, the Saint-Simonians made a 
tremendous stride forward in the analysis of the conditions of socialism« Modem 
society has destroyed all Privileges of birth and ranlc except that of property. The 
last privilege that remains is the hereditary property right, It establishes sociai 
stratification of two classes, bourgeoisie (used by the School since 1830) and Pro- 
letariat. The heredity of property implies the heredity of misery. The School has 
analyzed carefully the repercussions of property rights in an industrial era. They 
were finally convinced tliat the owners of real estate and of capital are the trus- 
tees of production. Property is not a right, but a function to distribute the meane 
of production in a just waj^, i.e. for the efficiency of the whole society. As long 
as the distribution takes place on the basis of property rights or considerations or. 
rent and interest, we never will conquer the expropriation of man by man. Modern 
crises spring from the distribution of the means of production among persona who do 
not know anything of the needs of industry, of the needs of the common man, and of 
the means of satisfying either» The economic anarchy makes inescapable social plan- 
ning. For this reason, the State ought to be the only heir of property rights so 
that the means of production will be distributed in the interest of all. It can 
realize this function in the form of a central bank that administers all capital anc 
reconciles the needs of industrialists, consumers, and producers according to the 
criterion of social equity« Social equity does not imply equality» On the con- 
trary. The new society will develop according to tlie principle of the hierarchy of 
social and economic functions. •^e will retum to obedience." The right rule ist 
"Everybody according to his abilities, every ability according to its achievement.» 
On the basis of this postulate, they approved the abolition of all Privileges with- 
out exception and the social planning bank for distributing the property of the 
means of production. This economic-sociological analysis is by far the greatest 
progress of the School as compared to the suggestions of the master, Saint-Simon, 

Bazard still enlarged and arbiculated the ideas of Saint-Simon in the lectures which 
deal with general and special education. He defined education as the ensemble of 
efforts which are used to adjust every new generation to the social order to which 
it is called by the march of humanity« This definition remains fundamental and can 
be foimd in Durkheim's "Education et Sociologie^" , 

The plan of education is determined by the image of man wh-'ijh prevails. This is 
f irst the primacy of the collectivity in the individual, ,bj^ his Jove of humanity ir 
the primary concern of education. Secondly, the teaclyjf shall develop synpathy, in- 
telligence, and material activity in the piqpils^ Jtf^ science, and industry are 
the trinity of Saint-Simonian education» 





- 5 - 

In the last lectvires we find the description of the religious development of manklnd 
Positive science has the hypothesia of a providentlal plan of the unlverse, The 
bvmn race becomes more and more religious from one organlc era to the next organlc 
epoch. Positive hlstcrlcal aethod leads to the threshold of religlon- the esa^ 
or whlch cannot be demonstrated. It must be experlenced by sentlment, 

I^M^f rJ?-.°J Saint-Simon is not yet a dogmatism or a theology. It presents a 
llllfil !ft "?^ regarding problems and responsibilities. As Sich it has influ! 
enced the clioate of opinion during the thirties in spite of official persecution. 

The Churoh 

Following the desires and the pressure of the novices and the younger followers 

witn apostlea, Initiation, rites, and later on vith a special costume- Thev them- 
selves were the -Fathers". Enfantin vas inclined to yield ?o Ms r^ticalTncliSä- 
ItTtrT^ to induige in his role as preserving a religious message7 The scSS Stti 

S tS?™L^"? ''f^°'^^ ^'"^^ ^""^" inevitable vhen he proclaimfd the pu^iSc^tio? 
of the materla in order to overcome the religion of suff erinc. Thls IbH t« thr 
emancipation of the flesh and to sexual ideafs vhich vlre ÄreS t^ L lar^^^ 
orderlo ?Ld^^f ; Enfantin and his followers went to Egypt and the nS St L 
pvaer zo lind the female messiah corresponding to Saint-Slmorio 


^ot'^i'^''!^?'^^!^"^'' ^""""^ ^^^""^ ^""^ emancipated from his religious dreams, Enfantin 

svsS h' ^T."V^t "^^^'^^ "^^ '^^^^ ^^ ^^^ development If the JVench SomS 
sysxemo He unifigd the many small railroad companies in the South of France into 

?n^ lt^rSV^^''^''^lt''''l ^^^ Paris-Iyons-Mediteraneeo He had the merit of insisting 
for many years on the building of the Suez Canalo His Suggestion for the great 
project of the Credit Mobilier vas later developed hy the frothers Perieref 

I^Ln^o'^'^ii^-'^^^?^?.''.^ ^^^^^^ Influenced the French socialist and technological 
schools. It IS anti-liberal, anti-Catholic, and totalitarian* 

The French School 

Auguste Comte and the Positivistic Movement 

geSsie f^ly^^ ^'''"'' ^"^ ^'^^^ ^^ Montpelier in a Catholic, royalist, petty bour- 









Secretaiy to Saint-Simon 

Catechisme des Industrieis, nr, 3-plan des travaux scientifiques neces- 

saires pour reorganiser la societe-systeme de poHtique positive, 

Considerations philo sophiques sur la Science et les savants* 

Considerations sur le Nouveau Pouvoir Spirituell (Both articles are in 

the Producteur). First lecture course in front of a distinguished audi- 

ence of curious scholars, reformers, intellectuals* Interrupted by a 

nervous breakdown, 

Ctours de Philosophie Positive, 

Discours sur L' Ensemble du Positivism, 

Calendrier Positiviste, 

Systeme de Politique Positive or Traite de Sociologie Institant la 
Religion de l'Humanite 
Catechisme Positiviste, 

55^these Subjective ou Systeme üniversel des Conceptions Propres a 
l'Etat Normal de l^umanite 


Martineau, Harriet, Positive Philosophy of Comte (freely translated 
and Condensed) 

Comte, Auguste, Polity, 4 vols» (carefully rendered by Messrs, 

Bridges^ Harrison, Bessly, Congreve) 

Hill, J. St., Auguste Comte and Posltivism 

Levy-Bruhl, La Philosophie d 'Auguste Conrte 

Caird, Edw#, Social Philosophy and Religion of Comte 

McGee, John E,, A Crusade for Hunanity 

Gouhier, Henri, La Vie d »Auguste Comte, 1931 

Gouhier, Henri, La Jeuneese d »Auguste Comte et la Formation du 

Positivism, 2 vols., 1933-36 

Marvin, F#S,, Comte 

Devolve, J,, Reflexions sur la Pensee Comtienne, 1932 

• / 

- 6 - 

Comte was a heretic Saint-Simonian« He left the sect vhen It became a religion» 
However, hie own work was completely logical in the development from the cynthetic 
Bcience of soolology to the eoclologlcal rellgion of humanlty. 

Llke Salnt-Slmoni Comte was prlmarily concerned with a practical end: the reorganl- 
zatlon of Society. TMs implied the influencing and guiding of the wills of the 
members of society. This was the primary function of his idea of a synthesis of the 
sciences in sociology to establish a philosophy which makes it possible to predict 
and then provide for the future. His was the original effort toward a synthetic 
philosophy of action, 

For this reason, he made the socio-historical process the object of his investiga- 
tions, His first discovery was the primacy of the whole, the absoluteness of human- 
ity or collectivity as over and against the individual which appeared as an abstrac- 
tion. This humanity, as the dynamic collectivity of the past, present, and future 
generations, determined the image of man in Comtess sociological philosoply, The 
individual being disappeared in the lesting evolution of the collective humanity and 
realized his function and value when contributing to the progress of mankind in his 
respective Situation. This lasting utilitarian value of the individual person was 
the Substitute for the Spiritual idea of human imraortality. It corresponded exactly 
to the divinization of the social evolution in Comtess concept of humanity, the 
great being, the whole, in which eveiything was potentially given. 

This doctrine of man pointed out exactly the specific character of Comtess sociology. 
It was the first radical effort to explain the destiny of man in terms of the natur- 
^^f^^^'^^^^f and to restrict the field of investigation to the total iimnanence of 
llfe. This implied that the Spiritual and religious Problems can appear only as the 
self-adoration and transfiguration of mankind and as the bearer of the social evolu- 
^lont Social evolution was a necessarj^ and inescapable progress in reason^ 

Durkheim has continued t>,e idea in the invariable law inherent in the march of civil- 
ization in his Division of Labor. This intellectual evolution appeared evidently in 
the Classification of the sciences. This law corresponded to and was the presupposi- 
tion for the law of the three stages. It established the logical and historical 
nierarchy of the sciences. According to the decreasing degree of generality and to 
the increasing degree of complexity in the world of reality which we can explain 
^u^ u 4 ?^i7^' ^•^^ ^^ "^^^ sphere of phenomena, we see a Iiierarchy of the sciences 
Which is indicative of the logical and historical presupposition for the functioning 
of the next one. Their mutual dependence corresponds to the reciprocal dependence 
of the phenomena t 

Comte established the philosopl^ of nature as the hierarchy which goes from mathe- 
matics to astronony, pliysics, chemistry, biology, and ends with social physics or 
sociology as the integrating and synthetic science which would make possible the in- 
tellectual and Spiritual reorganization of society, 

!• Every science and every art are sociol phenomena. Their contents and forma 
can be explained by their functional position in the totality of their social organi- 
zations. Comte was concerned about the general laws of the social development not 
about origins. He was mainOy interested in the general tendencies of the social 
evolution i^hich was the comprehensive term for the unification of order and progress. 
Comte made some stränge Statements about the relationship between both. He said: 
Order is the condition of progress, progress is the goal. However, progress is 
again developing into a higher order. This meant tliat Comte followed a teleological 
line of philo sophizing in spite of his positive and scientific assumptions. As so- 
cial acts are obviously directed toward establishing the harmoiy between the scien- 
tific and the emotional needs of the human race. All efforts and progress are made 
in order to secure a liigher and more integrated order* This can be done merely on 
the basis of a streng consciousness of values which arises from the richness of the 
emotional experiences and tlie power of altruism (a term coined by Comte). 

II • Comte defined the task of science as seeing in order to foresee. He searched 
for general laws by observing social facta as external phenomena in the reality like 
stones or other constituents of physics. He excluded from the beginning the ele- 
ments of understanding and of communication as instruments wliich bring about objec- 
tive knowledge, 

III. For this reason, society is conceived of as a collective organism. The mutual 
dependency of the organism is called universal consensus and corresponds to what 
Siramel has made the material principle of sociology, namely, the reciprocity and 
fundamental solidarity of all social modes of existence. 

Comte used the fashionable physicology of the brain for explaining the Probleme of 
social psychology of the context of societal relationships. He explained the 

- 7 - 


sociaHlity, the prevalence of emotione or of reason hy dlfferences In the Organiza- 
tion of the train. He has been rightly reproached hy J. St. Hill, who said that a 
üierarcly of sciences without pgychology was an ii^posslUe undertaking in the modern 
Situation. Tae physiological and hiologloal conslderatlons determine hie socioloei- 
cal approach, * 

Social origins can he deducted from biological facta as based on the sympathetlc in- 
stincts of the individuals. For this reason, the famiOy is the elementary unit in 
the social evolution. It presents the basio features of social order, hierarchjr and 
subOrdination, solidarity, and consensus. « V « «* 

ly. The analysis of the family is the presupposition of the nev) categoiy of social 
f ^:°^^u ^^^ compered it to anatony and defined it as the social science which 
dealt with ane.lyzing the conditions of a social structure. Comte was well aware 
that the continuity and duration of a social System depend on the harmomr between 
!Mi®+?" ^^\^" ^Tlt^ institutions and the intellectual and Spiritual System of 
which the members of the societies live. For this reason, he was eager tfpostulate 
It f^P^^^JJ^"^ of temporal and spiritual pover as the indispensable condition fä^ 
tne integrity of the positive gospel and itg authority in secular affairs. Through- 
out his work he postulated Catholic Organization v;ith Christian spirit. That is the 
reason wl^ he was so populär with Maurras and the reactionary forces in FrSce, 

^^ u ^f^®-"- dy^f^iics-physiology is the science which deals with the eeneral lawa 
«hich rule social progress and evolution. The fundamental law is t?e law of Se 
three stages. IVo secondary forces are preventing or accelerating tL proSess^ 
(1) external conditions: race, land, climate~"milieu" (his term)f (2? popSaWon 
pressure and social competition. However, they are only of minor importanSpro^ 
ress and evolution has its inherent direction by the huJan mSd! SfSu^n Mnd if 
the guiding and leading principle, at least until the beginning of the SusSial 

?ionr Se'mSv'^' f .*^^ '"°'^^" *^^^- ^" ^""'^^ *^'- and^uSder thJ^conä- 
tions, tne metaphysical stage appears as the result of the critical social structure 

spiri?" SiSn nfv'-f ' '.'tV ''^ ^"^"'^^ '^' technologicafsSSeS, tS Sd 
spirxt wall again prevail and take over the spiritual authority. 

In spite of the claim of priority, Comte assumed that the life of mind and societv 

7or.TtZ iTiliZL'/ '^^^ ^^-^^^^ '-' °^ ^-^^^ e^uiiibnlrLdtÄ. 

St*«i+inl+^r"*®'^ the theses of the progress from miHtary to industrial societies, 
iods movements from organic to critical and from critical to organic per- 

yi. The law of the three stages. The evolution of human reason goes from theologi- 
llLl°nT^^"/-^^ 1 scientific and positive thinking. This law means that the 
and ^derS?^"^ ?J^'"^^ °l social phenomena grovs in intellectual refinement 
and understanding. It does not imply that the religious spirit is vanishine. Mlll 
has correctly criticized the ambiguity of the terms and has suggested tbTmo^e S 
eise formulatxons of volitional-personal for theological, entological for metapSsi- 
cal, and experimental-phenomenal for positive. Comte used the llw for estSsSng 

oJ the^t^f .^- ^°J^^^^°* ^^ °^«^ ^^ other conditions. The specific cLracSr^ 
of the intellect as shaping and integrating the social reality into a system of its 

Comte tried to yerify the tl^esis at least for the theological stage. In this stase 
he noted three developments from fetishism to polj^heism%nd monothksm? In t^e ^ 
tM«!c S. l!^??',"'^" believed in personal forces living in organic and inorganic 
things. This belief created a climate of opinion which had a high regard for ani- 
mais, soal, and land. It made possible the establishment of agricultural societies. 
Hence, these ideas produced tremendous social progress, not economic needs. Accoid- 
ing to phrenology, faculties cannot be derived from needs, These agricultural so- 
cieties entered around families as the nucleus of social Organization. Their gods 
iS^ination *''^^^ ^'^°^ "^" "®''® fortune tellers, Sentiments prevailed over 

Societies adoring the stars indicated the transition to polytheism. This era of the 
theolo^cal stage Cover ed as different structures as theocracies and the relativis- 
tic political cults of the poleis. Both have confused the temporal and spiritual 
power in the one or the other direction. They have built up a social Organization 
on slavery, they have cultivated art and pliilosoply. However, moral and social con- 
duct was on a verj'- low level, 

^?.*^® !u? °f Jnonotheism Comte saw the transition to metaplQrsical thinking. He Im- 
plied—this is an interesting remark which Mill took tqj—that the development was by 
no means an immanent one but deeply conditioned by the philosophicel-scientific 


- 8 . 

thought and the viBion of a unifled field of knowledge and its object the unlverse 
tf^i^^^u"^^? °f ^}^ multi-variety. In this Situation a monopoUstic priesthood es- 
TiaDiiahed the Indispensable Separation of the eplritual and seotaar authorlties as 
zne pre-oondltion for the worklng of the Intelleotual authorily In the World. In 
this oontext he praised Cathollolsm and its modern philosophers like de liaistre as 
having created and re-created the unity of Spiritual authority and of Spiritual 11b- 
erallsm. The Catholic System destroyed the of birth and rank, it re- 
stricted vars, slavery, and serfdom. » * *« 

With the rise of industrial-urban-technicel communities at the end of the Mtddle 
tillL?tll r ^'^^^f ? °f ^'^ metaphysical stage as the intelleotual rSolJ 

thf resu^t of the nl"''"'-"^"' tlf'"''' "°"^^^^' ^^^^ *^« «^«^ «^^s of thin^Sg are 
troubleflr, L *f ^^.'•''^ ^^**^"S '°*^^^ *^^° *h« reverse. Comte was already 
S sMSi^^ n^°*^^ *^^ monotheistio with the feudal Systems. For this reasL 
Jrom^he cri^ical i w'' r"?\^^^- ^^ ^^- ^^-^n crisis and in the trLsSion' ^ 

i^trt^iS TJi:ZllTulflä b?t» J< enÄ flful\i ^1^ 
ing the neighbor more than onesel?! ^ ^ """^ '°°^^^ ^°'^'^ °^ ^°'- 

5hf Indi^HÜ!i^^\r^!.l°f ^''^ ''"" religion, postulated the complete devotlon of 

I^Lm°?i°^ ?T^^ is extremely interesting as a modern state of mind, not as a Dhil- 

Sf L'dSrnTv' ^' '""'M^ P°'"*^ °"* *'"^ "Pi-^ly l°"--i°g scientific st£- 
h!. ,^: / , ^"°" ^"^ ^"^'^^^ originally, he never has done amr research S 
has used as much second-and tliird-hand literature as äici <^in+ qw^T ^^!7^°"' "® 
caDablp nf •o•o■r.^f^r•l„„ u,- „ n a.i ™" "1"^ y'^-' B i-ure as aia baint-Simon, He was never 

thP li^iofi ^^ ?? ^ ? ^^''^ tJirough historlcal evidence,. He was extremely poor in 
lish^nf the ?aw ^f Jf^^^g^^^l P^^"it «f his Vision. He does not succeed in'^estaS 
day as thev dS iLjlft f ^^^' "^*^' sufficient evidence. They do co-exist to- 

necessitv of ti ?^r-,i f ^f ^'^"^ ^^°* ^^^ "^^^ ^^^^^^ ^^ «° evidence for the 
necessity of the intelleotual progress as a fatal and necessaiy evolution. 

«n/roiL°^ *?®^^ ?^'f ^^°xf' ^®"°^ sociology developed in the orMt of Saint-Slmon 
and Comte as described by the following ideas of Comte s oaiai^-üamon 





The prlmacy of the collectlvity and of collective consclousness, 

The progressive intelleotual evolution, 

The interdependence between anthropology and sociology, 

?^M^^ f atics as the ana]c'sis of sociological conditions and of consensus. 

o°°.!j ?^^°f ^^,^^^ analjsis of tendencies leadlng toward order and progress 

Societal relationshlps as observaMe external facts. 

Methods to be applied are those of the natural sciences. 



Cour»« owtlin» fwr Fall 19S7 . SptIm 19« 

•3. TUE CtmiSTlA» SOICXIR AKD THS KOTOCOH 07 OOD - Altert Saleaoo 

SmmixwT, F«ll t«ni. Tbr*« polnta o:f eradlt. 

Vrmmnm, L07QI«, C»rv«nt««. Eranras and Layela OMieal-fwd tb» 

\J '^ ^ /idllUnt Christiaa in th« firat raligi»tt8 eriaia «f tbi» MxlMna 




World« C4irvant«8 pni«#;»t«ä l)on QaixGlui» a« h#ro <ißd fa»! Jjq th» 
»pirltual draaia« 



>^*^Äi m^^lPB ^^ *<ir Vw'*H>'^WN^m^v4v 

Thre« polnt» of eradlt 

Swlnar. 5.pring term. 

Tte iiii«rpr*tatioiui hairo Ymrioua pwrpoBmmt first» to ootie^iv» ofth« 
»•ftiiing of ^nnal 5*ociolo^, und itai eriti^uÄi «#cofK4, to oon^itruct 

»#thod9 appXl«d for «xpüLalnlng sooial iAt«raotl<m, sogI&I rol#s and 


*adtiftt4i oo^iTM. i^pring t#r». Tür«» i^i^t» of or<idlt. 

Tt^J^ C. 10 ^ <i. fit- 

Tte firat s^iologiats wid^rttood th«lr hm ^läiclpliM ^t continoinf 
cwtAin Philosophie«! pmttomta Ttey t^o9i»oa th^ iiy|»rdopondoiioo of 
»ociologieal aM »oclal psyeholoi^ool«! ocmeoptioh» in th« ifork« of 
tboir forwoBudors. fbojr mw tf^^o rlto of a doololo^ioal »otbod i& 
oomiootioii Mlth tho dovolopnttt of « thoorj of hiotor^« With tho 
olobormtion of aooiolofj, tho ooopo of tho fwrorwnor iodxt« had 
to bo oxtmd^d. Aüthoro dioouooods Mcmtaigao» Fontoacllo, Piorro 
%^\0 Uuio do Soint SiMH. Montooqiaou, Didorot, liollm^, EoM^oo. 
HuKloriUot Jote Millir, SiioftoolMrjr. AdM SMitt. 

*** t * ^ ' > w 


Fall In57 Seminar 

/ Soclology of the Intellectualß : 

Wednesday 6.20-8.00 



1 1^<- I/^'asjuu/T 

Analysis of the origlns of Intellectuala .dif ference s to the 
Professionals. Revolutlons and Intelleotual s.The Age of the 
In teile ctual« . Th j ? angjal owslneeriPublio Qpiniüi ' j and rersuatfiun - 
The coffeehouse of the Intellectuala, the meBsianic bohemians, 
the Intellectuala aa experta^he Intellectuala aa professlonala 

of revolutionär f\i^*^^iKu^ 

Balzac, Mazzini, Montesquieu, Gomte, J.S^ Tl <iM .fTrot2ky,R«Aron 

Mannheim, Weber« 

Caiirs# o^ttU mp for ^all 1957 ^ irl^^ 1^3$ 


0. DÜHKHEIM (Contittil«l) 
Vin/lX Th« patWm« of »uleida. 

- /ate#rt SäIoiwäi 






Aiioafi» in thu ^Inlti^ Stute»- 

f\m »truetttr« of th© fawlly and of th« bod^ politi«. 


Critlqu« of Amerloeo philo«ophy. 



0. MlZkC ÄS SOCiOLOGiBT - Älbwt SütiWil 

Op«x oouTM. FaüLl tmrm. two polnt« of cradlt* 

11/ 1X1 Tto •ül#ntiflc Mtted. 






Th# d^pth «trata ©f socUtyt Han within aad without soel^t/« 


BocIäI ehang«» aad Vamoitj of hiatory. 

Social controlt« 

ffe« lel9iard cltiis. 

*^oci«l atrsitiflcation. 

, lov«, trarriage 

lil/Xill Int^U^otuals and Bohömian». 

XIY/XV TImi Fi»« of boroeraclas ut^ ilwi |Ä«mQ»«ioXogy of offioa. 

0. DüÄ^aisiMt äis u^^THia coNtRiBUtia« to ^ociOLoar-aii«^t saiomc« 

In eMmmoii&tl9f} of hls hundredth birlbdo/, 

füo polnta ('f cr#dit 





A wmi dlwiplina: Ita politioal i«:>lioatl«»i. 

Ihm r«J#etlon of soci&Xi«a. 

Pr^gr«««* MClaX ovolutlon and hiatery. 

Moral aelane« aiKi |^ilosorh|^. 

Tha oolXaotlTa conacianca 

Social roloa. 

rattorna of aolldarltjre b^latorlcai and nooiol^ieal. 



n x%\ Pnrft ttjv tnr: f^^^mt , gt al nfir fftx Fiü 

'^» ^a^YW tt lT , m^ Mttlt .Mutation in ?oitmr IliiQQr.3tr>.^ct^f; > |^, 
£»p*iaicer9? Joto»on, .H;iiU«i?t«r, ÜUah, Moitoljohn. 

%ttftl»ir0l Ko^r«, I'iö^^ir» HeYl^fi, ^iatthiiiss^ii. 

6. Ih« Caniri ';^-,^Ut?rfi, ,:i/f 

/■,f p 

f ^^.'^^l^tMor \^ M}m%\ 


Morton, J^iytr. ichfttss. 

»■«^' tf i i i fcrt » i ff ii<i S«rt i <ni{ i <rii i> a 

Speaker»! %uc.ll0y, ^'ri^t. Hula, .'ümuif^, Slaons» Bracht. 

X eruicgttttt to the faculty to drf>p eo^lft^ely papem of flfty or öixt^ wlnata» and to 
hare rottnä takia iUscuftnion«, w^i^rt* t ;e naln »paakör i?- wu^^^o»«^ to deüver a tliasla 
wlthin %hlrt,7»flT'» or forty »iituta« miX, §ßtitl^mn \äm iipaak in th# dlwc upftiom «h^uld 
propara t^mlt r^m^irkn to tliat th^y eaa Acliiav« aii»«thlniE: wltliin ^«iji or twalve aintttaa, 

ilia ciiaiwa» ©f «ach m««ting «ivould tak« car« of or^jaiiiiing and preparlai; tlia dla» 
cu»siion vltix all the iip<iok^r« and h#\T«i th« pollce and dlsclpllnu pov#r for tha aiitlr«i 

Wien va start at Bilß p.w., thw roune! tabU ^il«im«f^ion tiiiotild Ua tturaagli %% K) «•w. » 
aad After a krlaf lntarmi?i«ion, w^ «tili \^mm tlilrty-flir« or forty i^inutas tw dl«- 
outsion If aoo©«»aJBy, 


JÜL'b^rt Saia«ioa 

IThe öraduate Faculty of Political and Soelal Science 

New School for Social Resepxch, 66 West 12 Street. New York. N.Y. 







SPRING 1943 

Liberaltem Past and Juture 

Albert Salomon 

I The term "Liberali sm" » its meaning and history; 

M\irray, Gilbert 
Balfour, Lord 

Barker, Earneet 
Hobhouse, L.T. 

Samuel, Sir Herbert Liberalism« 1902 

Liberality and Oivilization 
Introduction to the Translation of Treitschke'a 
• Politicfl 
Reflections on Government, Part I 

Liberalism. I & II 



♦Foskick, D. 

Lane.Rose Wilder 
Hi Story: 

*Ruggiero, Guido de 

Oroce, Benedetto 
*Acton, Lord 

Piggis, J.N, 
*Allen, J. W. 

Allen, J.W. 

Mesnard, Paul 
Se'e, Henri 

HaleVy, Elie 
♦Stephen, Leslie 
Stephen, Leslie 

What is Liberty? 

The Discovery of Preädom 

The History of European Liberalism 

History as the Story of Liberty 

History of Preedom and Other Sssays ed. by Piggis 

Prom Gerson to Grotius 

A History of Political Thought in the XVI th Century 

Part I, chaps. 5-6. Part II. chaps. 6-10 

Part III, chaps. 3-6. 
A History of Political Thought in the XVIi Century 

Vol. I, Part III. V. and VII , v -,,x , 
L^Essor de la Philosophie Politique au Sixieme Siecle 
L'Bvolution de la Pens^e Politique en Prance au 

XVIII siecle. 
The Growth of Philo sophical Radicalism 
History of English Thought in the XVIIIth Century 
The English Utilitarians 




The Christian Huoanists in Opposition to the rising absolutism. 


Brandi. K. 
♦More. Thomas 

The Bducation of a Christian Prince 

Etudes Erasmiennes. Chaps. 3 & 4. 

Erasme en Espagne 

History of the Charles the Pifth 


III The case for toleration: 

Cf. II 
Locke, J. 
Hooker, R. 
cf, Piggis 

cf« Allen 



Letters on Toleration 

Trait^ des HeVetiques 

Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Policy 

The Politiques 




The liaits of the political sphere: 

/ ^^® Jesuit s 
cf . Piggis I jj^Q Monarchomachi 

Milton. John Prose Writings 
Grotius, H\igo Be Jure Belli ac Pacis 
♦Locke, John Two Treatises of Civil Government 

V The Prench Philosophers and the Revolution: 

Osborn» A.M* 
Hubert) R. 

Essai sur les Moe\ir8 

Traite' de Tolerance 

Lettres Philo sophiques 

The Spirit of the Laws 

The Social Contract. ed. by Vaughan 

Rousseau and the btate 

Rousseau and Burke 

Rousseau et L'EncyclopIdie 


Llberalla m Fast and FatAiy^ 

r 2 - 

Albert Salomon 







Laiesez Faire Llberalism: 

Smith, Adam Vealth of Kations 

Theory of Moral Sentiments 
Lectures ozi Justice and Police 


Oeuvres, ed. ly Schelle 






American Liberalism: 
Paine, Thomas 
♦The Tederalist 
Channing, W. B, 
Par rington 
Beard, Chas.A« 

The Rights of Man 

The Liberal Grospel 
Main Currents. Vol. II 


Liberalism and Utilitarianism: 

Bentham, J, A Fragment on Grovernment 

" Workg. Vols. 1, 2, 10, & 11. 
Kayser, E.L» The Grand Social Enterprise, a Study of J. 




Liberalism in defense: 

*Burke, B. 

*Tocqueville, de 

"^ill^ Jö^ Stuart 
4> tt li It 

Weber, Max 

Liberalism and Labor: 
Arnold, Matthew 
Jevons, H. 
Jones, H. 

Dickinson, G^Lowos 
G-reen, F. H. . 

Shaw, Bernard 
Pease, E. H. 

Reflections on the French Revolution 

Works and Correspondence 

On Liberty. The Subjection of Women 


Politische Schriften 

Mixed Essays (Domocracy and Equality) 

Tho State in its Relation to Labour 

The Working Faith of tho Social Reformer 

Liberty and Justice 

Principles of Political Obligation. Vol* 3, 

Liberal Legislation and Freedom of Contract. 
Fabian Essays 
History of the Fabian Society 


The Attacks on Liberalism: Imperialism, Nationalism, Socialism, Fascism; 
*Barkor, Earnest Political Thought in England from H^Sponjccr to 

the Present Day 
Reflections on Governmont. Parts 3 & 4 
Communism, Fascism, or Democracy? 
Fascism for Whom? 

Barker, Earnest 
*Heimann, Eduard 
*Ascoli, M. and 
Feiler, A. 

Liberalism of today: 

Five Political Creeds, a Symposium. Toronto, 1938 


Faith for Living 

Reflections on the End of an Era. 

Liberalism in the Modern World 
"^iboralism and Social Action 
The Attack on Liberalism 
The Decline of Liberalism 
Tho New Dospotism 

An Essay on Catholicism, Authority and Order 
ad^Cortoz: Dompf, A. Christliche Staat sphilosoi^iio in Spanion 
Längsten, H. Socialism and tho Historie Function of Libcralisii 

Mumford, Louis 
♦Niebuhr, Roinhold 
Roosovelt, F. D. 
Lothian, Ph. H^ K» 
Dewey, John 
Butler, M. M, 
Laski, Harold J« 
Hcwart, Lord 
Cortoz, Donoro 




The Roforonce Library on the Fourth Floor is opon daily osccpt 
Saturday from 1 P.M* - 10 P.M> Opon Saturday 10 A.M* - 1 P»M» 

♦Availablo in the New School Library. 

OiM^jen y^ 


/^^3 '^i'f (^^'^ 
t / 


<t ^'X 






> » 



submitted for ttr; General Seminar 
by T^thel B« 'Veissnriann 



Thus far six volumes of ilrnold Tüynbee*s Stud;/ of History hdve been pub- 
lisiied« Volume One trec.ts of those categories by vjiiich To^/noee proceeds in the 
reinaining volumes to disouss ttie grovrtlis and bre^^kdomis of oivilizations« 

The rriost important categories ernployed in Toynbee's ^orks are those of 
'*civili2ation*- his unit of study-, and '»ohallenge -and - response'*- the aot 
by which civilizations coine to birth« These oategories are chosen after 
weighty oons iderat ion of alternatives and speciiic indications are made for 
their saleotion« 

Oontemporary historians, Toynbee states, have approached the Problems 
of history \vith an ato:fiistio attitude» In almost all nineteenth and twen- 
tieta Century iiiitories, the unit of study has been nation« Toynbee tests 
the validity of this category .7ith the example of Great Britain« He showe 
clearly that in no pnase of its development, could this empire be understood 


ithout a consideration of the external forces v;hich \vere directed towards 


her from ^^ithout her boundaries« The author ooncludes: 

'♦The forces in action are not national but proceed from wider causes, v/hich 
operate upon all the p:.rts simultane iously and \7hioh are not intelligible in 
their partial Operations unle3s a camprehensive vie\i is ta.^en of their Oper- 
ation through the society« At the same time, different parts are differently 
affected oy a same general cause because they each r act and eacx contribute 
in a different way to the forceo miich thc.t same causa sots in motion«'*^ 

There is, tiien nothing misleadin^, a priori, in the study of those com- 
munities '.vhich ^e call nations« Chaos enters in when \ve Iook at these nations 
as though they '.^re in themselves individual|<rTi+il ie$. 

Tnat then shail the historian consider as an intelligible field of study? 
Toynbee proposes the category of civilizations. Tne category of oivilized 
Society as oppOfied to primitive society Is characterlzed by the fact that 

1. Toynbee, Arnold J«, Study of HiJtory t Cxford TJniversity Press, London, 1953, 
Yol* I., p. 22 

- a- 



mlmesis In ciTill2:!<i soo 

iety is directed to^arde creatlve indivlduals ^ic^end 
tcard a comnvon futare goal of mar^ind. It is tals tend toward the future 
.Moh is respcnsible for the d^andc oourse of chenge and in civili.ed 


CivilLations. tlBn. constitute in tl.e real, of mankind, a class ^ith 
co™ ch.racteristios wMch render possible a co.parative study or the 
various .e.bers of tUis A particul.r civili.ation includes all tho se 
co..unites ..ich be.r a mari^d rese.blance to each in their eoonc.ic. 

political and cultui^al spaeres. 

wuh this as tbe evidence of a specific ci.ili.ation. ^ynbea 
olasafies tne conte..porar, civilized co^ities into five distinct sccieties. 
Tbese are the -.estern Christian. Orthodox Christian, Isl^.ic. Hindu, and Far 

Bastern civili^ations. 

Toynbee has no. designated his units of inve.tigation. Having concluded 
that these five units have at least one oonur.n characteristic. i.e.. ti.;/ are 
all civili.ation.. there lies bofor U3 the possibilit, th.t tnese five 
societies share other n'^ness:.. The tas.<. t..n. is to -onearth these Poten- 
tial si^il-ities. To,nbee proceeds with the proble. by traoing baC to its 
emergence our o.n "^es ern Civili.ation. He this in the disintegration 
of the old flellenic( Society^et.een tha second Century B.C. and 
tba fourth Century- A.I). At this point. .hile seelcing other ctegorles by 
.hich the five living societies may be Toynbee co..s upot. this 
proble. Of the genesis of civili.ation. In deccribing the e.ergence of the 
-estern Society from its parent, Toynbee says; 

..^en a civilization begins to loose its °-f/-/X\r iS'i'atiS'th 
its surx-ace and begond its ^^-ders -.hom it i= all he U ^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
Its influence and attracting into ^^^ °"'^' '^^''^f „rowth was a social 

with the result that the society ^'f^^J/^J^.i^^^e fri"g«' ^«'^^'^^ *^^^^^* 
unity with '^ ever expandlng and always indefinite irin^ . 


against itself by thesharp lines of division between a dominant rrdnority and 
its internal and external proletarit^t« Tbe minor ity having lost its power to 
influenae and attr^^ct seeks instead to im ose its ^ill by force« The Prole- 
tariat, inwardly alienated, rerr^ains in but not of the disinte^rating sooietv 
until tbe disintegration has gone so far tiiat ttie dominant minority can no : . 
longer repress the efforts of tiie Proletariat to secede» In^the aot of se- 
oession at length aocomplished a new soc iety is conceived." *- 

In this tracing baak process \ve discem severol features wnich were not 
characteristio of tne liellenic societ^? in füll bloom and wiiich constitute a 
link between tbe degensration of the old society and eraergence of tbe new one« 
Tbe most important of these features is the estaolishment of a universal 
chiirch. The universal omrch is estaolished bj? the internal Proletariat of 
the society out of their own recourses to satiüfy their o^m needs^Brought 
into existenoe by tho dominaiod Proletariat of tne disintegrating scriety, 
tiie universal churah also serves as the embryo from \7hich the new society 
comes to life« Toynbee finds ti^ffo other faotora which he believes concomi- 
tanll^with social disintegration. These are the incorporation by the dying 
society of its colonies into a universal State and the Voliiervanderun- 
a\)arbarian Invasion of the ±ying society« 

Toynbee consideres thes-a three categories as tokens of degeneration 
into regeneration» Ee applies theae tOiiens in tracing back to emergence the 
four other contemp^ary societias. We find that theset likB cur '7estern 
society, are affiliated to older sooieties. The parent civilisations are, 
in turn treated as ^re the five contemporary sooieties. Toynbee continues 
thes process as far back into the past as historical loiov/ledge and arohae- 
ological records permit« In txxis way, Toynbee ideatifies twenty^one ci- 
vilisations» Classified according to their degree of relatedness to other 

civil isation, these are: 

2. Toynjee, A.J., üv. Git >t JÜi »tC , ^«^c- -^ * 

Z. Ibid», Oh. I., Section OZ. 



I. ünrelatad to Sarlier or Later Clvill-atlons: 

Egyptiao Oivilization 
Andeau Civil Ization 

Il.ünrelatsd to Parlier but Heiated to Later Sooieties: 

Sinic Civilization 
Minoan Civillr^ation 
Surnerio Civilization 
2iayan Civilization 

Ill^Sociöties Heiated to Parlier Sooieties, by reason of the fact tiiat Later 
Society has been precipitated by a ?olkr3rvanderung> 


Indic Civili ation 
Hittite Civilization . 
Syriac Civilization 
Hellenic Civilization 

IV»3oaieties Heiated to Earlier ^jooieties through Universal Church 

Western Cliristian Givili-ation 
Orthodox Christian Civilization 

Main -^ody 

Far Sastern Civilization 

Main dody 
Korea and Japan 
Iranicj Civilization 
Arabic Civilization 
Hindu Civilization 

V» Societies most intimately H lated to Barlier Societies through Inheritence 
of Organizr;d Heligion of Dominant Minority of Older Society: 

Babylonic Civilization 
Yucat90 Civilization 
Mexic Civilization 

Toynbee's method has apparently accomplished an aniazing fet^t of simpli- 
fication. In the place of six millenia of het rogenieous nations,groups and 
mov3ments v;hich add up to an exasperating complexity, Yie have now only twenty 
one groaps all of v/hom have at least ona common denominc:stor« 

Toynbee has described the geaesis of civili. ation as an outcome of the 
ionflict bet veen the exploiting elasd and exploited class in a disintegratiiig 


Society» He no\7 enjioimters the most difficult proposal wnich he h^s set to 
hirriself. This is the oause of the genesij of civilization« 

Before he offers that outegory which he equipped to cope 
wita this proDlein, Toynbee mentions and discusses aeverai other oute^ories 
whicn have been fi.vored et cne time or unother by one group or anDtiier« 
Tiiese categories of v;niGh Toynbee neatly disposes are the oategories of 
••race'* and of "environment'*« > 

The first theory rnaintains that civilization. is tho prodact of 
sotTie inherent racial faculty» and thcit the quality of a given civil ization 
depends on the pure raoial stock of that civilization. This does not ans7;er 
the problem as Toynbee saes it* He indicates the follo-.ving reasons: 
l| There is nothing to indicate the reiationship beteen psychic and physical 

2) Both barbarian and civilised conir.unities are discernible in each of the 

five main raoial classif icaions» 
2) More than one racial stock have contributed to tha gene sis of each civili- 
zation 'j?hich Toynbee has identified« 

The Snvirönmentalists' bid for the gene siö of civilization farejlittle 
better» The crux of this stand is that similor environments al^^ay^ and 
everywhere produce similar societies» So sv;eeping a staternent as this can be 
invalidated by the presentation of a ringle exception» Toynbee offers a num- 
oer of these, of whioh the follov/ing is one» There are rriaijy instance of a 
Nilotio { Nile Valley ) enviromi.ent • Yet so far as ^^e knoiiv , öiily in two 
Instance- the Sumerio and Sgyptiac- have fluvial civil izations come to birth» 

In his efforts to seek the positive factors in civili-ation, Toynbee 
has di5Carded tbß categories of race and of environment» Baoh of these mono- 



theses is too narro^ a concept witb. v/hich to explain the emergence of civili- 
zatlon« Here To^nbee x^oints out that for 500,000 mankind has v^axidered over 
th? eartli» Yet it is onl;/ witiiin the past six millenia tliat ^e oan boast of 
divilization» Anäi witiiin that duration of timSf we oan identify only t^venty- 
one oivilized sooieties in coatrast to hundreds of prirriitives ones. Obvious- 
ly, tiie genesis of any Single clvilization constitutes a unique phanornenon« 
Te shoold seek that act of genesis not in a simple factor, but in a multiple 
of fuctors; not in a Single entity bat in a relat icnsliip« 

The name 'vaich Toynbee givos to tiiis relationship is tha '*acticn of 
challenge-and-respon3e"» Toynbee describes this ..ction. "Tiie inner creative 
factor of a societj? in a measure .cts directly und er tiie Stimulus of external 

factor and tbe v^iriations -hieb eirarge are tbe result of this intimate inter- 

action •'» Thus, [Toynbee sees society somewiiat deteriidned b;/ the external 

factor s by which it is oonfronted« Ho^vever, the internal factor of soceity 

Siemes the challenge- human or physical- c.nd shapes it to i ts o'wn ryishes. 


Toynbee, then sounds a Wi^rning against rash predioticns. Oompl.^te Informa- 
tion regarding the nature of external Stimuli confronting a given society 
may be available« liowever, there is no w-y of ascertaining the response 
of the creative actors ',7hen it rnaets its ordeal« Toynbee offera ample proof 
which indic. tes that the various responses by .- given group of people to a 
Single: challenge has ranged all the ^-^ay frcm succombing to the challengej 
through adju3tin.j; !:a ^ay of life to that challenge; to changing the way of 
life in a fashion \7hiGh opens further growth than exis ted before the chal- 
lenge was met« 

It is on the elaboration and v.ricition of tha action of Ghal lenge- and- 
re sponse that Toynbee bas3s his discussion of genesis and growth of civili- 
sations in the second and third vd)ljmes of his series# 

4. Toynbee, A.J*, t^j^Oit., fJ\'Jl,^^^- C'IPc 

f } 




Toynbee is in reality an epic poet in the guiee of an historian 
of civilizations» He talies the rrighty sweep of six millenia of recorded 
h-uman history as his sta^e; twenty-one civili^ations as bis cast of tra^ic 
characters, fifteen of which have long since departed from the scene. 

Toynbee hab set himself th« perennial task of all philosophers 
of history, viz ; the f ormulat ion of sorrc underlying pattern or group of 
patterns yhich wo^:.ld explain, or at least give deeper insight^o the story 
of civiiiiytion. 

The general irrpresbion created is that of a stränge rdxtiare of 
logical analysis conducted in dispassionat e terrrs and historical rrelodrarria 
f-urhished with a cast of characters selected to illustrate his special views. 

The first thr'^^e volt-jnes of what will eventually he a iT.on\iinental 
series of jjjwelve, discusses the genes is and groTrth of civilizations. 
Twenty-one »«societies«' are identified throu^hout history. These are treated 
as independent entities and the qnestion asked, >*":aiat was it that within the 
last 6,000 years shook this part of mankind o^jt of the^ integrat ion of 
custom" into -'hat Toynhee calls the "dif ferentiation" of civilizations? He 
c-nsiders that the two factcrs that have often "been put forward as the de- 
teVmining causes, i.e.,iace and environmnet , are to "be s-air)rkj.r ily rejected. 
Ee\ Shows that in regard tc race, that a numhpr of civilizations have heen 
created "by roore races than one. In repudiating race as a factor in the 
growth of civili^ation, he waüt^s a great deal of energy in attacking dis- 
carded racial theories that only Ha^-i and perhaps reactionary Soiitherners 
still entertain, This wonld indicate his lack of acpuaintance with the 
critical literatnre on the si-ih.lect cf so called racial '»superiority and 
inferiori^yii. In rep^jdiating as well» environrrental causes as a deterrrdning 
factor, he points oiat that Minoan civili7ation emrrged in a clustrr of isles 
situated in an inland sea "blesscd wit!- the cliniöite cf the y'editerrcxectn. 
ffhir did not a siirdlar environment evoke another civili^ation of the archipelago 
type aroimd the inland sea of Japan? Froiri this and a great wealth of sirrilar 
instances he concludes that one T'ort look rather to a relation th-an to an 
entity for the cause of a genes is of a civili^ation. 

He finds that relation in what he calls "challenge and response" - 
this is the foundation of To^^T^hee^s analysis. The significanco cf this 
relation, its renewal and its various forins, i.e., the several •'stimili" of 
press^:re, hard gronnd, penalization, etc., occ-upy the second vol-uine. The 
third inouires into the pro^blerrs of the growth of civilizations. Incidently, 
in the fouTth, :^ifth and sixth voluiLes, Toynhee studies the hreakdown of 
civilizations, which, he concludes, dis-integrate, not fror, a "blow froiTi outside, 
"but from failure frorr^ within, especially when "creative"» roinorities hecoire 
"dominant«» minorities, thus in turn creating Proletariats, large masbes of 
discontended suhjects s.nd Citizens whose rehelliousness leads to the "breakdown 
and dis Integration of their societies. 

TojTihee^s whole approach to his stv.äy of history involves, apparently, 
certain postiilates, sorre openly avowed, othcrs not stated, and prcsent only by 
implication. Much of his later argoment , sociological in r^ture , is founded 
on thrse postulates which are thembclves philosophical er iretaphysical in 
nature. They appear alirost imnediately in his first voluire and are certain 
fatr.iliar, but in the opinion of the writer, discredited positions. 




First - Ontological dualism - the division of being into rrind and 
matter, Second - !H!pist«=»iTolo^ical, sutjective idealism, thcit is, thcit 
despite the admitted reality of social events, thr true focus of value and 
the true source of kno^led^e nriust "be foimd only in the individual and truth 
reust therefore correspond with the '•spirit'ual realir." which is fotind only 
in the individual, Th^.rd - Trans cendentalism in theology, that is, that 
value is equivalent to hur an value and that the latter is at home only in 
another world where "matter** is not fcwnd. Individuais exist only to 
prepare therrselves for the other v'orld. This, of course, is the conventional 
Christian eschatologj'', Fourth - s^jpernaturalisr in morals, that is, that 
roatter is evil, spirit ^od, the goocl life is in the next v-orld, not in this. 
Fifth - deterrainism in history, that is, the unchaiigirg pattern of societies 
and civili^ations in their genesis, grnwth, hreakdown and dis Integration, 
in a strict temporal succes3ion. 

Despite the writer^s disagreement with these postul^-tes, Toynbee, 
it must he admitted, has contributed to an underst£inding of the pattem of 
history. He attempts to ahstract from history certain leadinjS cnaractrrs 
and patterns of action. But the patternö which he attempts to^appl^r tö äll- 
thfe other samples of civilizations.he ohtains from a Single family of societies - 
the Hellenic - Roman - Christian. 

The ahstraction is not of a high order. The "constants" of his 
scherue are highly selective - they lack the cuantitative f'-dnctions of 
"ouality-free" rraterials necessary at arriving at "the invctriants" ..of history, 
if one q£j: speali at all of such factors. 

TorvTihee says that "societies«', not states, are the social "atom.s" rith 
which students of history have to deal. He then selects certain societies for 
minute study, as a hotanist selects certain types and species fop exairination. 
The twenty-one societies are clas^^ified primarily as;"wholly unrelated 
societies", "societies unrelated to earlier societies", "infra-aff iliated 
societies", "affiliated societies (suh-divided)" and "supra-aff iliated societies". 

Meeting the criticism that historical events are "uniaue", Toynhee 
asks his critics tc agree thc^t, while they may "be unique and therefore incom.paracle 
in certain respects, in other respects, they m.ay "be memhers of a class, that is, 
comparahle with other mem.hers of that class. But he falls to roalize apparently, 
that no meaninifT can arise from. such corrparisons , ^vn ^-^'-»ring that there ä,re 
euch "social atoms" or societies an'^ classes of societies - an assum:ption hased 
on a physical or "biological oT.alogy. 

In his examination of the causes of the -genesis of civili^ation, he 
relies on this ph^^sical and biological analogy. Since "challenge and response" 
is his forrula, he believes that the nost stimulating challenge is to be f-und 
in a "mean between a deficiency of severity and an excess of it". This he 
attem^pts to prove by nasses of empirical proof « 

The criterion Toynbee establishes for himself, is the increasing 
com^and over physical and h-'jman environment ; a transfer of energy, or shift of 
eiTiOhasis fro*^ so^e lo^er sphere of beir^g or action to a higher - "etherializat ion" 
and in the transference of the field of action. üI"» these generalizat ions are 
illustrated with amia^ing profusion by quantities of citations drawn froro the 
mas-ive, alm.ost overpowerir^ erudition of which To^'nbee is master. 





A major criticism in the view of thi^ writer and one which will 
TDe adverted to again further on in ^his paper, is To;y'n■^ee's introduction of 
analogies from "biology and physics. This adds to confusion rather than to 
knowledge. l^ven the physical sciences start with sorre ass-umptions concerning 
the nature of things,* still more, it seems, sho\ild any treatraent of history. 
Srppirical Operations in history are always limited by the int^llectual 
pre-supposition of the author and To^Tahee is no exception to this rnle. 

A '»civili7ation" is wider than a "nation", believes Toynbee. 
Western nations are part of Gestern Christendom. Foiir other societies are 
alive today - Orthodox Christian or By^antine, the Islamic, the Hindu, and 
the Far Fxistern. These are part of the tirenty-one th^t Toynhee studies. 
"Flach society possesses. lik^ oinrs, "-anivprsc:.! State", a »'universal Church", 
and a "Volker Wanderung". ^ 

One can only conclude that Toynhee explains to'^ many things and 
too thoro^:tghly. Ee seer^s to forget, and he makes his readers forget, that 
his ''laws" are v^ilid only as hypothesies and approximations. Uo event can 
"be accounted for "by a Single cause. In this domain of corparative and 
general history a certain degree of vaguenesR is not a fault but one of the 
conditions of the scientific apcroach. 

With Tojrnbee»s work, it would appear th?.+- ^he pendulum in historical 
writing is swinging hack tcwards big -^rks of generalization, away froir the^ 
analytical fact^etudies, of special subjects (altho one suspects from Tcjmbee's 
vast ränge that he easily qualifies as a specialist in universal knc^ledge!) 

The true history of a "state" is irpos&ible says Toj/nbee apart from 
the greater wholes or societies of which they form, a part. An example of 
To;^Tibee^s glib generalizations is the one that ITew England* s conquest of North 
America constitutes the entire st\''dy of that continent from 149P to 1865 * 
rather an over-sirrplif ication. ^Another ~ his whole basic schem^e of society, 
"born", "growing", "deca^^ing", dinr Iving", se'^mic merely a clever adaptatior 
froT^ hiology and is not markedly original. To use "ordeal" instead of 
"strug£"le for existerce " is m.erply to place a verbal msask, and very trans-* 
parent , over one'g rsTwinismi, 

To^mb^p Claims he can Interpret universal history independently, 
purely historically, without leaning on theology, metaphysics, physics, biology 
or economics, or any of the fascinating onncoctions or cocktails of all of 
these of which he is continunuslv guilty. Eis claim to independent historical 
interpretation cert-inly does not appear in his f irst volume. 

In surc--ary, a num.ber of flaws stand out in Toynbee*s ^ork: (a) an' 
un.justi-^iable adherance to a universal and transcendental philosophy of history, 
i.e., he takes over Goethe^ s concrption of "evil as a force that in spite of 
iteelf makes for good", o-^ the older notion tliat "all things work together for 
good for them that love God". Sub specic ae t ernitas. , such a belief m.ay be true, 
but it has nothing to do with science. (b) A vague mysticism pervades much of 
his writing. Such terms as "y in" and "yang" are resor^-ed to . This, necdless 
to say, results only in -emotional exaltation, rather than intellectual cUrity. 
(c) Toynbee manufactures his eociology "ad hoc", that is, in complf te ignorance 
of the critical literature. His learning is im'-ense but it is astonishing to 
observe ^is ignorance of m.odern sociological developments. .For eXamole, he 
has adopted Älsworth Huntington^ most dubious doctr !-*=»!!:. , long ago dernoX^ished, 
All the nor'^ regrettable is this in view of the fccct tliat Toynbee» s analysis 
is relatively independent of the trath or falsity of Huntington' s theories. 
However, one must conclude that his twenty-one comparable entities (civilizat ions) 
are excellent ^xamples of the use of the method of "culture case study". 


Amon^; the theories which he mkes q-uite plausible, iß the one 
that peculictrly unfavoratle natural environments have in some cases "been 
amoug the significant factors in initiating the transition from primitivisro 
to civilization. Where challenges fron the natural environment are lacking 
the "internal and oxternal Proletariats*' hcxve constituted the challenges, 
This is ötrikinpgly öirrilar to the theory of "crisis" of Thomas the ümerican 

Finall3% the extent of Toy'n'bee^s learning is so sweeping th^at he 
can, at ^11, select cases in which only the crucial factors vary. He, 
therefore, crovides virtually an exoerimental set-up for his generalirations, 
ThuB, the vital role of "challenge and response'' in the genesis 1^ civiliza- 
tion seenis to he easily derronstrated. 

THiatever one 's opinion as to Toynhee's underlying ass-jmptions, it 

must he admitted that if the material presented, is conceived of as <'culture 

case study" it Stands out as an exceptinnal, tho somewhat errat ic intellectual 
tour de force. 

Leo M. Drachsler 

Jan, 26, 1942. 

Suhmitted for alertness credit in General Seminar of Graduate Facultyf 
Seraester, hinter, 1941-1942. 




iillALYoIS GF SCGIAL GHCTTH Ij TCI^iiE^'S oTJDi C? ..I^Tc^Y, VCL. I-III ted to: 
Dr. SaloiTiOn 

hy J^thel ß. Y/eissmaim 





Toynbae's Study of History S0ei:cs tiie variables and invc^riables wiiich pro- 
duce social cbange. He is not intereoted in minute, piecemiel analysis, out in 
S'.voeping, historical investigation which will bring to light those factors wbich 
have resultGd in tiie birtiis of civilisations and those v;hich have ended in the 
breakdowns of civilizations« 

In deteimining tbe factors involved in social cnange, Toynbee has purposely 
V and pointedly chosen as his unit of study "civilizations" instead of the more 

usually ccnsidered catagory of "nations'»; Thls latter category arbitrarily iso- 

lates and segre!j,ates from each otner Gorrimunities v-hicJi lic^ve much in comiTiOn. 

ation of 
Bb consider/GUcb a unit, txie nation, as ün individual entity^providing in itself 

a fiald of 3tud^,leadsto-mucii confusion. Toynbee concludes tiiat '*tiie forces in 

action are not national but procead from wider cause s whicii operate uoon all the 

parts simultaneiously and which are not intelligible in thei r partial Operations 

unless a comprehensive view is taken of their Operation through the society.'» 

Toynbee statc^s that civilizations constitute a category wuich presupposes 

a high degree of individuality. This being the case, it is the category of 

civilizations whiCi^ suppig Toynbee 's unit of investigation in the search for 

laws of social ohange« Lest it be thought that civilizations cover the whola 

ränge of human society and thus present too vague a field, Toynbee explicitly de- 

fins his category« In civilized society, unliiie primitive society, mimesis is di- 


rected toward the future and it is this orientation into the future which is re-s- 
ponsible for the dynamic course of change and growth in civil! :ed societies« 

In Order that he riiay adwquately study tiie course of change and growth in 
civilizations, it becomes Toynbee's task to identify all possible repräsentatives 
of the class« ':7brking with the proposition that a given civilization includes 

1. Toynbee, ilrnold J., Rturlv of Histor.v , Oxford Univer.ty Press, London, 1933, 
Vol» I», p«22* 




all those coramunities whlah becir|a r.iarked resemblanoes to eacja otiier in tlieir cul- 
tural, political and economic spheres, Toynbee classifies the ezistin^^ civilised 
GomiTiOnities into five distinct sooieties« These are tiie Vfestern Christian, 
Orthodox Christian, Islamic, Hindu, and Far Eastern sooieties« '7ith these five 
contemporary civilization as leads, Toynbee threads his vvay baoovard to th^'irst 
days Ol reGorded history. At the end of hio process,Toynbee finds that he has 
been able to identify twenty-one civilizations« These represent the sum total 
of all civilized sooieties wnich have seen life doring txie six millenia of his- 

torical reoord« 

Through his tracing-baoü: procedure, Toynbee discovers that in varying de- 
grees most of these civilizations are relatad to at least one other of the 
species. (In this oontext, this is always a relation-hip between an earlier and 
later society and not betv;eeii societies that are öontemporary v;ith each other.) 
The first criterion of ralatedness i3 the presence or absence of a universal 
cnurch; the seoond criterion is the degree of displacoment of the original home 
of the later society from the original home of earlier society. The displace- 

ment may ränge from those societies whose 

1) original/is entirely non-coincident v;ith tha home of t .e earlier society 

at its \^idftst ränge; or is partly coincident vjith home of the earlier society 

at its ^^idest ränge. 

to tho^-e societieo ^vhose 

2) original home is wholly vdthin the domain . of the eari ier society at its 
\videst ränge; or lies v;hOley vitnin the original homa of tlie earlier society« 

Classified accoridng to thrse trjo criteria and ranging at the top from the 
slighuest degree of affiliation to tue highe st degree of affiliation at the 


bottom these twenty-one civilizations ara: 

2. Toynbee, A, Qv» Cit »> V. I» Oh. I, See. 02 


I. Unrelated to "Sarlier or Later Civilisations; 

Sgyptiao and Mayan Civil izations 
Il.Unrelated to Parlier but Heiated to Later Givili-ations: 

Sinic, LIinoan, Sumerio Civilizations 

Ill.Selated to a sligiit degree to Sarlier Societies 

Syriac Civilization 

Hittite, Indic, Hellenio Oivil izations 

IV. Societies Related to Sarlier Civilizations txiro igh Universal Churoii 

Gestern Ghristendom 

Ortiiodo: öhritendom (In Russis), Far 3astern Civilization (Koraa, Japan) 

Orthodox Jnri;st6ndom (Main Body), Far Eastem Civilization (..:ain Body) 

IraniQ Civilization 

AraDic Civilization 

Hindu Civilization 

V» Societies most Intimately Related to Earlier Socio tiee« 

Mexic Civilization 
Yucatec Civilization 
Babylonic Civilization 

Toynbee's metiaod bas acoomplisbed an amazing feat of simplification« In 
tbe place of six millenia of heterogenieous nations, groups and movements wbicli 
add up to an exasperating complexity, we have no\7 onl;,^ twan.ty one groups all of 
77bom have at least one conmion denominator« Witb so mach of tbe ground eis ared, 
Tonbee can proceed witb his analysis of growtii. 

]3ven \'7bile tnus engaged in tbe process of Clearing ground, tbe autbor 
stumbled across bis main conceni of tbe genesis of civilization. Tbis problem 
first appeared Tfl^ben To^'nbee was basily tracing bao xi to emergenoe our own 'nTestem 
civilization. Tbis is fixed in tne disintegration of tbe old j^ellenio (Graeco- 
Homan) Society, between tbe seoond Century BO and tbe fourtb Century AD. 
Toynbee describes tbis process üT d generation into regener ation: 

'^T[h^ a civilization oegins to lo^e its creative oower, tbe people below It» 
surgace and bejiond its borders, wnom it Is all tbe time irradiating witb its 
influence and attracting into its orbit, b9gin to resist assimilation, witb 



tlie resalt tbat the sooiety whicli in its age of grotrth '-ms a social unity with :i 
an ever expaiiding and always indefinite f ringe, oecomas divided againct itself 
by the Sharp lines of a division betv^aen a dominant minority and its internal and 
external prolatariat« The minority having lost its po\^r to influence and attraot 
seaks instead to impose its will by forco. The Proletariat, in^ardly alienatedf 
remain in but not of tne disintegrating society onil the disintegration has 
gone so far that the dominant minority can no longer repress the efforts of the 
Proletariat to secede^ in tue aot of secession at length accomplished a new 
Society is conceived." '^ 

At tiiis ;':oint, we can discdm several features ^hioh seem to betoken social 
ohange. These features^ n(5 at all charao teristio of the Hellenic society in füll 
bloom, seem to constitute a link bet^reen tne degeneration of the old society 
and the emergence of the new one« Tho most important of the features is the 
establishment or a universal churoh. by the internal Proletariat • Brought into 
existenqe by the dominat-ad peoples of the disintegrating society out of the 
people's resources/to satisfy their own needs, the universal church serves 
also as the embryo from which the new society com>s to life« 

Toynbee finds twü öther factors which he considers gener ally conoomittant 
with social disintegration« These are the inoorpgration by the dying society 
of its colonies into a universal State, and the volicervanderung - the barbarian 
Invasion of tue dying society. 



This of coursa describes the mode of emergence of related civilzations« 
The two unrelated civilization, the Egyptiac and r^cyan, obviously constituting 
a minor ity of the species, have probably come to birth through the mutations 
of primitive societies. Seither of tiB modes of emergence explains why or how 
the change from one society to anot.ier was accompliGhed. This is, of course, 
the most difficult proposal which Toynboe has 3et for himself. 

In line with his empirical approach, Toynbee tries for this purpose several 

Z. Toynbee, CP>Qit > 7.I., Gh* II See. A 



tii389S befüre he aets forth tiiat one "iiich he Gonsiders best-oquipped to aope v^ith 
the Problem» Toynbee conclusively proves that neither the racialist, mio holds 
ttiat the quality of a given civillsation depends on its pure rao/ial stock, nor 
the environmental ist ";ho maintains that the quality of a civilisation deponds 
exclusively on its physiaal environmanttposesses the Solution to the problem of 
the genesis of civilization* Toynbee suggests that either of these monotheses 
ig too narrov; a ccnc >pt v;ith \^liich to explain the emergencd of eivilisation« 
Eere, the author points cat that for 300,000 yearo rr.anicind has wandared over 
the earth. Yet it is oiily within the past six thousanix years that \^e cari boast 
of civilii^ation« And ^^ithin that period ot time, \ve can identify only tv;nety- 
one civilized societiea in contraft to the hundereds of orimitive soaieties of 
WiiiCii v-B havö iaiov.ledge. A parently, the genesis of any Single civilization • 

constitutes a anique phanomenon. 7e should see^v ti^at act of genesia, not in a 
Single faotor but inla multiple of lactore, not injk Single entity, but inja 
net^orix of relationiihips« 

The nama wnioh Toynbee ^ives to this relati n^hip is the '^action of chal- 
lenge - and- responoe". It is described« '*The inner creative f^^otor of a socio ty 

in a measure acts directly under tiie Stimulus o f an exte mal f^.ctor aiid the 

variations wnich emerge are the resalt of this intimate interaction. '* Genesis, 

then, is the function of an interactim betv;een an external challenge and 

a people in a given society» The challenge may be presented in the form of the 

physical environment, in the form of a human environr.ent, or in the form of 


Toynbee applies tiiis aetion to explain the genesis of either related o.r 

unrelated civilization^ In the case of t.iO^ e civilization unrelated to earlier 

civiltzation, Toynbee finds the challenge has corae from tue nhysical environment» 
For example, The "Sgyp lao and Sumeric Civilization which as far as we xaio\7, are 

4* Toynbee, A., Or)»Cit »Qh» II, See Cllor 




the oldest representatives of the speoies, appeared at the end of tiie Ice 

Age. The dissication rosulting from tiiis event deprived the Afrasian stepps 

of much of its plaiit and aiiimal life. The peoples^dependeat on txiis life for 

itw o\m existeiice^'.vere forced in txie face of annihilation to make some change« 
Those people ^^ho responded to the chall -iiige of dessication by ahanging their 
way of life were responsible for tlie genese^: of the Egyptiao and Suijeric Givili- 
zations» The forrnidable jangle valloys of the Nile and the Eaphratos Hivers, 
which hud previously been a far le ss desirable habitat than the terr.pjrate 
Afrasian steppes, became the homes of these t'vvo civilizations. Toynbee em- 
phatically r^oints out tnat all that is fertile and oomrriodious in these 
Valleys was aohieved throjjgh the ingenaity and strengh of the people who 
had been foroed from their original homes to tneso areas. 

In tiie case of civiliz. tions \mich are affiliated to earlier ones, the 
ohallenge i3 presented by the domination and force of raling minority« 
The re Salt ins conflict bet-veen tne dominating minority and the exploited 
majority continues until the Proletariat sacoed in brea.cing away. This res- 
ponse Is the dynajTiic act tiirough which a dying society is at last felled and - 
the through whioh the new scoiety comeu to birth. 



Toynbee has now iscl-r^ted that emotion wiiich explains tne genesis of civi- 
lization. It is his task now to exa^rane the nature and properties of this 
phenomenon. 'Till that environu.ent vmicn rf^ouires the slightest possible exer- 
tion be most arrienable to the genesis of civilir.ation? Cr v;ill tne challjnge 
be most conducive to the genecis of civilization which :|axes Its victims to 
tlie utormosty 

Toynbee answers th first luestion with a fim denial and bring aTiple 
proof in snpport of :iis conclusion. Por Iicai»ple, Toynoee offers the case 


of Central Africa. A habit-t whic h presents »easy liviiog" becuu^e of its 
vegatation and clim.te. Central Africa has never been tne iiome of civilisa- 
tion. Also opposing tha theory tliat civili2.ations ari5e in environiLents 
favoruble to man is tiie üxacfiple of Central xjner loa» The retarn of tiie 
inpQnetrable jimgles to this urea be^ipea^v tne great battle fougiit in the 
transformation of this land into the lAa^an Givilizatiün. 

To^nbee naJ como out of tnio question \vith the conclusion that the Stimu- 
lus tormrds civilization gro\5S stronger in proportion as tue environment 
gro-;?s more difficult« In this case, are considered two tj^pes of environijaent, 
human and physical. In ccns iderat ion of the lütter, for exanirole, \ve find 
that tha iiiO-.t significant acGomplishmentü of any aifiliated civilisation ar)pear 
in that part of its terrain '.^xiich ij least coincident '.Ith tiie originell home of 
the a]')parentCd societ^^, Apparently, the sheer neoessity of brea.dng in new 
ground has acted in itoolf as a desiraole stimolus. Aa exarriple of Toynbee's 
la\? applied to tha human environ^^ant, are the achiovmenti3 of the Jews in 


Toynbea reallzes that the logical conclusion of his trend pcints to the 
fact that as i; stimuluj bocoiTiej infinitely more sovare and taxin^, the chances 
of great acjciievir..3nt3 jecoirto evor strenger. He ponders the possibility of rxis 
law reacning a point of diminisiiing rotums. Thi s possibility is tested by 
corfiparing the outcome of sevoral ciallonges offered to pjople :^;ho stem fror^an 
identical racial aaad cultural stock« For example, ..e ara given the Qc.sq in- 
volving Uorvvay, Iceland, and Greenland« Of the three loeland can .oast of hav- 
ing achieved the most 3u:>ericr civilization. In Toynbee's termo, this has come 
about because tho migraticn of the sea necessary to r-^ach Iceland, £^a the 
harsliness of the land itself, offered to tJtie emigrants a more di-ficult cnallenge 


tJiän any facing thair ^inanan who;'d in Hor\'?uy« On the other liand, 

tiie prolonged saa vo^age required to r ach the shores of areenland and the 

chall jiige 
acute treacber^ of this Island offered too severe aa xiöfixfiHqaBat for the acheiv- 

ment of an outstanding civilization. 

To^nbee ooncludes on the büsis of his empirical evidence that "the niost 
stirriulc..ting challenge is to be found in .i mean betveoen a defioiency and an ex- 

Gess of it". 


Toi^nbee haa sqggeiited the degree of severity which the optimaTi challenge 
3hould provide. ITow another raeotion is i-^osed. ^?ill tne 3ole fact of a suo- 
aessful rso^oonoG insure the gravth of a civilization just comL^ to birth. 
Probabi ;y not. For the optimurri challenge itz 

'»one väiich not onl^? .itirnulates d Ghallen-ed party to ^^cnieve a singl oaccesE- 
ful response but clso stirnalatos him tc ac^uire ^ rriOmonturri that carries xilm jne 
Step furthar; frorn the Solution of one problem to the pre^entation of another. 
The Single movement frorn diiturbance to restoration is xi'ot enough for gro-th; 
there must be an elan miich carries the challenged .party tiirough eqailibriurri 
into overbalance \vhioh Exposes him to a fresh challenge and there by inspires 
nim to maxce a fresh response in the form of a furtner equilibriam ending in a 5 
lurther overbula^ice and so on in u progression \vnich is potent ially infinite." 

With humi:^e respect of the Author^s comrjrehensive Kno^vledge, and ^ith 

füll reali.:ation of the delicate ground to be tread, this writer feels in-? 

in Toynbee's prncuncements 
creasingly insecnre/from tuis point omvard. 

?/here v^'e see in action the process quoted abo^e, there ^.ve see a civiliza- 
tion gro^dng. To:ynbee specifi s that these perpetually arising challenges must 
Gorrie from \7itnin the society. For example, Challenges in the form of never- 
enling military explcits de not place a sociny in the oategory of gro\7ing oivi- 
lizations. ]for again do advanoes over tiie physical invironj^nt effected tnrough 
teohnology necessarily imply gro;vth. A civilization may be deemed in a stage of 
5. Toynbee, A.J., Op. Oit» . V. XU, p. 120 


gro\7th TJlien the ever-recurrii3^ ciialloiageu imd. re^^rnses ari ne from witiiin |ha 
Society itself, ^j^hen tlie civilization itself tends to become its o^n environ- 
ment, its OY)n challonger, and its own field Ol* uction« xieE» enters a.conf asion« 
TO^^nbee has explicitly statad tiiat a related sooiety emerges from the conflict 
between the dominating minority and the internal Proletariat of a dying society« 
In this Gase, then, \ve h^ve challenge and response urising from \vithin a given 
sooiety. 'That in one instance \7as a criterion of dis Integration appear^ now 
to becoiLe a criterion of gro^^th. Undoubtedly, Toynbee is imolying something 
quited different from what hes been inferred b y this writer. Ho^vever, if there 
Is a distinction bet.veen the^ie seeriiingly identicai explanation for tv;o contary 
phenomena, Toynbee has not m^^dtit clear. 

Toynbee remains in a tenuous field, ^vhen he proceeds to analyse the pro- 
ces^i of v;hich has ju^t been preaented« Hegarding thio analysls, Toynbee 
States "Society is a relaticn bet v en individuais; aad thi^: relation of trieirs 
ooiisists in the coincidence of tüeir individual field s of action; and tnis co- 
incidenco comb ine s tiie individual fieldj into common gro und and this common 
gro and is soci^^ty." 

'J?he Society is not ing more than a medium of communicaticn through 7;uich 

individual haman beings intoract -.vith one another. As the field of action, so- 
cl.-^ty cannot bo the source of ction and the sourca of action carmot be socioty 
bat can only be each or eome or one of tne individuais v;hose fields of ^.ction 
constitute sooiety« Not haman sooieties bat hurricoi individulas make history« 
And it is throught the in^^ard deveiopm32it of personal ity that individual human 
beinss are able to loerform those creurive acts in their outrvard fields of 
action that cause the grov.'ths of nam.n societies« The gro7;th3 of civiliation 
then, are the wor^i of creative individuais or creative minorities. It io the 

6. Toynbee, A.J», Op> Qit >> V« III«, ?• -51« 


job of this creative minority to r;et . ction from the uncraative masses of popula- 

of tiieir omi uccord 
ticn who never/advanoe rr^orally or intelleGtaally« 

This above analyüis ppears to tnis vvriter to bo eitiier axpecially aöstruse 

er ospecially unsubtle» If it is the former, then this ^riter has not understood 

Toynbee at this point. If it is the latter, a fev? words need to be said» The 

Statement tiiat individuals not societies maixe hiatory seerri;i tc be iriisleading« 

The logicai conclusion of tae Statement is tiiat social dynamics and the dyncamios 

of individual benavior ai'e one and the sane tuing» And yet, is it not true 

that institutions are as much a study of history as are huinan individualu'^ 

FurtrBT, does it not appear tnat institutional behavior exhibits a dynMnio 

oourse quit" different from that of individual behavior? Igain, are not the 

prejudicas, beliefs, hopes and desires of the uncreati^okd'Ssr^.s as much a part of 

sooiety as ure the superior will and intelligence of tho SÄcreative ilinority? 

Despite iiis denial to that effect, has not Toynbee made . dichotomy bet've3n 

some <:.üG^rac^ entity called society on the one hc-nd, and a seoond abstract 

entity called iiaman being;or betv-een the crG;;tive minor ity who -xe tiie leaders 

of Society and the uncreative majority who ^oulü 3tay forever in dumbness and 

darkness? The 33 are poignant questions in the stady of social chan^^e, and they 

Indicute th. t the social scientist has to deal v;ith a far more subtle interaction 

than even Toynbee has suggested in his concept of '*c hall enge- and -response'*« 





Toynbee 1§ one of the few post-war writers of history 

who explained history as a series ^of pulsatlons; • ...a swing and 
counter-swing of the pendiilum; .. ..a cycie of siuniaer-fail-winter- 
spring seasons endlessly repeating themselves.'' He along with 
Spengler, Pareto and Sorokin inight be lebelied as the rhythm-philos- 
ophers of history. Toynbee »s general Ideas postulfte a chailenge- 

and-response rhythm wnich Is basea to some extent on the evoiutlonary 


He has taken much of the existing Knowledge and Is at- 

temptlng to Incorporc te It Into a loglcri sequence to prove hls chal- 
lenge-and-response theory. He Is one of the few livlng encyclopedlsts^ 

9^pi& by arranging hls data In laore inter^sting and slgnlficant patterns 

h^has produced a work In whlch he attempts to analyze, coir^pave, and 


classlfy clvilizations. / He Is concerned with investigations into the 
^nature of clvllization and into the causes of genesis, growth, break- 
Qovm, snd disintegration of clvilizations^ and it is my piirpose in 
this pa^^er to try and discover the effect of th^se clvilizations on 
Personality or the effect of the personalit^ on these clvilizations. 

It strikes me that Toynbee comes vsry close to Buckle's 
central thesls; that history has been siii.ply a record of the actlons 
of individuals or select groups when in reaiity it should be concerned 
with the actions of the multitudes or the roasses. Hls idea that en- 
vironinent holas the key to understanding the moulding of socleties 
corresponds to Toynbee »s belicf in the stiiiulus of environment creciting 
a response in the personality, Botb seem to hola the idea that 
history is ballt upon soclology, socic 1 statistics, and economic 

Toynbee »s arrangement of data takes the following form» 
He has set up what he terms ^Intelliglble fields of historical stiidy^ 

Page two 

which are societies and not any one subdivision of lt. National 
States such as Great Brite: in or city states as Greece are mereiy parts 
of these categories cailed societies which are independent ^Inteili- 
gible fieiüs of hir>torical study,»' Yet these two parts are rolated to 
one another bec^.use they "are all reprosentatives of a single species 
of Society.^ These are called "apparented" civiiizations sinco one 
Springs from the other in contrast to "affiliated" civiiizations such 
as the Eastern Civiiization. 

From this clasrification Toynbee has differentirited 
twenty-one civiiizations belonging to the species Civiiization of the 
genus Human Culture. ^nother genus woula be Primitive Culture, 
These societies are related as far as their backgrounas are concerned 
since each one possesses a '»universal state, a universal church, and 
a Volkwanderung •»» This may seein to be a contradiction and Toynbee, 
anticljgating this^iöakes tiie statecent that »»we shall mereiy ask cur 
critics to agree with us that a given phenomenon may be uninue and 
therefore incomparable in some respects, while at the same time in 
other respects it may be a meLiber of a class and therefore comparable 
with other members of that class in so far as it Is covered by the 
claspifici vtion.»» 

Toynbee then turns to a consideration of the geneses of 
civiiization which is the main concern of his first volume, From the 
study of these various societies which Toynbee has roade he is led to the 
follov.-ing hypothesis. 

"Apparently it is the nature of civiiizations to exert 
upon Mankind beyond their borders certain social influences which may 
be llkened metephorically to the physical pushes and pulls which, in 
scientific termlnology, are called radiation and attraction," 

This occurs only when and if the society is in the as- 
cen^Tstage. It can be noticed today in our own civiiization, and it 
can be noted in the civiiizations of the past Likewlse another 

Page three 

phenomenon can be noted in Töynbee's studles.When the descendi^nt 
phase appecTs these people who prevlously were influenced and at- 
tracted by it, "begin to resist this asslmilation with the result 
that Society which. In its age of growth, wf.s a social unity with an 
even expanding and alwc ys indefinite f ringe, becomes divided against 
^ minority and an intern 1 and external Proletariat»" 

If we assiime the above as an explanation of the geneses 
of civilizatlon, we can then proceed to a consideration of the natura 
of these, Toynbee disqualifies institutlons as the differing com- 
ponent of civilizations because he believes that they are comnion 
properties of all societies, whether primitive or not. He likewise 
discounts rivision of Labo]ir as a dlstinguishing feature for he Claims 
thc^t evidences of this cpjn also be seen in primitive societies. He 
dies, however, accept social Imitation or mimesis as the underlying 
explanation of the nature of these geneses. 

^The tonplenent and antidote to the Division of Labor 


is social Imitation or miciesis, which may be defined as the acquisi- 
tion through Imitation of social assets — aptitudes or emotions or 
ideas — which the accuisitor? have not originated for themselves, and 
which t: ey might never have come to possess if they hau not encoiintered 
and iraitated other people in whose possession these assets were already 
to be found.»* 

In most primitive societies this Imitation is directed 
to the eiders and ancestors similar to the Situation which existed in 
China with her anceBter worship. This, of course, tends to halt any 
progress and bring about a static condition of any society* On the 
other hand this mimesis may take the form of diffusion or acceptance 
of new things from outside or inside any given civiüzation which in 
turn breaks down the old and directs the energies to the new. Society 
becomes dynamic and is constantly undergoing change and growth. These 

• n 

Page foiir 

dynamlc socleties today may in the future also become static or 
decadent so Toynbee conclude.s that the nature of the genesis of 
civllizations runs the cycle of static to dynamlc to static or decadent 
once more. 

From the followim^ Toynbee pasnes on to the concluslon 
that the causes of the genesis of civilization is not a racial or 
environmental thing. The geneses of civilization are caused by the 
successful responses by a society to a challenge mie^ may come 
either from the physical environcent or from huiran beings outsicie the 
society or fröre within the society it?elf. How ho roriOhno tlilc con^ 

cluplon will be now Buovm. Inertia did keep primitive societies fr 


developin- into civilization? ^but when this develo^raent actunlly cfme 
there must have been some importcmt fr.ctor which overcame this inertia. 

The race factor is considered and is tosred aside as a 
factor in the causes of geneses, The present day race feeling is a 
revelation of Protestantism — onknown in eariier tiraes anc not even 
making löuch headway in certr in sections of Western society today. 
Any one civilization must include within iti^elf and has inciuded con- 
tributions from nore than one race. "The so cailed raci^a eyplanation 
of differences in human perforrcance ^ nd achievemenr is either cn In- 
eptitude or a fraud. The power which is evident in the cCtions and 
accomplishinentr of living things rrdght be considered as a transcendent 
first cause and cailed God or Is a contlnuoui? creative process which 
may be termed Evolution Creatrice or Elan Vital'. Face is minimized. 

Its counterpsrt likewise is relegated to the llmbo. 
Geographical features of the environmentfcannot be seriously considered 

as causes (^IspTlt is suffice to point out that the same conditions 
may give rise to two entirely different civllizations- or It may con- 
celve a civilization at one time and fall to at another. Civllizations 
have flourished in many different envlronments also vshich still leaves 
US wlthout the positive factor which Is the cau«p> 

Page f ive 

This glves rise to Toynbee's theory that the cause must 

be an interactlon between the above two elettients race and environment. 
An environment is not an c^utomatic ^roducer of civilizations but it 
^ Is only s challenge. The genesis of clviiization is caused by the 
successful responses by ? society to a chalienge which is prepented 
elther b> geographica! environment or by individu- Is within or without 
any given society. These chall^^nges are offered to societies, :;nd 
they cive fac^.d ^/^ith the opportunitier? of choice. Civilization becomes 
the end product of the successful responses to these chailenges, and 
as each^3nge is met civilization progresses« 

Under the appropriate Stimulus or chalienge any group 
has the opportunity to raise itself to the high^^t level. Man may be 
the chailen,;er and by these hunian challenges to one another they will 
grow with a correspondinf^. growth of the civilization» 

And the process may also be reversed. Instead of going 
from the static to the dynamic, it c n go froiK the dynanic to the 


Thus Toynbee concludes that the cause of the geneses 

of civilizations is not a simple matter but a multiple one, and it 
can only be explained as a relationship. This may be an interaction 
betv;een two inorgc nie or inhuman forces or it may be an inter* ction 
between t-o outstrnding person^lities. 

So we have the process proceedinii from the first stage 
if "the Integration of Custom^ into the "Differentiation of Civiliza- 
tion" through a dynaiaic act. This in turn stimulates creative activity 
which eventually leads man to a critical point where a decision must 
be made, Either man resigns himrelf to passivity or to positive 
action, either "from motion to rest, from stor&i to calm, from dlscord 
to harmony" or vica versa. 

That the personality of the Indlvidual is affected by 
tiJtiis explanation can readily be seen In the ex^^mnstion and illustratioiB 

Page six 

which Toynbee gives. CivilizEtlons have developed In the most 
diverse types of environinent, They are classlfied as challenges of 
hard countries, new ground, blov/s, pressuros, and penalizations^ 
\ Thls would lead one to the law that "the pcBKJtk greater the challenge 

the grer^ter the response" but thls law must be amended by another one 

"the law of dlminlshing returns". There have been many instances 
where severe challenges have stiniulated rcen to excesslve activity and 
responseSj but there have also been many instances where man has been 
unable to cope with this seyerity and as a result has been forced 
under. There is then a mean which Toynbee believes should answer fßr 
all of the illustrations and examples äwabk can be foiind. He has 
found this in the law which he quotes as follows: "The most stimulating 
challenge Is to be found in a mean between a deficiency of severity 
and an excess of it." 

Here is a thesis that the rnastery of difficulties is 
the surest way or road to progress. Too difficult an environment 
might have a tendency to stifle effort, while reasonable difficulty 
provides encooragement. The "real optiÄiim challenge" does not stop 
with the Stimulation vS anyone to achieve any Single response but it 
provides the drive which is necesnary to carry the challenged person 
fürther from his accomplishment to a new problem^ which »in turn^ 
stirculates an achievement. It is the rhythm movement ail over again. 
A Personality is in equilibrlum and proceeds to an overbalance when 
challenged. This in turn evokes a response which produccs the state 
of equilibrium once again. 

Toynbee conceives of human society as a relationship 
between the individual merabers who comprise it — not merely a relation- 
ship of individuals but also of social organisms which depend on this 
interrelation for their very existence. Individuais utilize society 
as the medium through which their reactions on one another take place» 

Page seven 

Human hlstory Is made by buman Indivlduals, not by the society 

through whlch they act. 

growth. Thls growth operates through a process of withdrawal and re- 
turn. V^en a crlsis Is to be met^whether by an Indivldual or by a 
group, growth is usually brought about by this process. The creative 
portions of any clvilizatlon extricate themselves froni the normal llf^ 
surroundint^ thera. This cr^^ative work is accornplished because of this 
relative isolation with which these creative Individuais or groups 
surrouna themselves. when this work has assumed form so that it may 
be transmitted to the remainder of the group, the interaction takes 
place whioh providfe»» a challenge to each group. The majority non- . 
creative group offers a challenge to the minority creative group or 
individual to convince it that this new Solution is the way to meet 
the new probleni or eise t;ike the onus for having failed to develop a 
Solution, On the other hand the mlnority challenges the majority to 
accept their proferred Solution or eise face the Situation of a con- 
tinuing non-solution of the problem helplessly. The iesalt may 
ceuse frictions, conflicts, storms, -nd stresses, but it Is only 
through these that öivillzation will]^ continue to grow and meet the 
needs of an ever changing and progressive society, Defeat of the 
creative group may resolve the society into eventu^l Stagnation or a 
static Position. "The cake of custom'' is only broken in this way. 

But the growth does not end here. In order to make 
progress the challenge must be ruet in such a fasi.ion by the individual, 
a minority group, or by the whole society th^t it jf^ answered not 
only the particular challenge in a successfui way, but ItAalso pro- 
videAa new challenge for the respondent which in turn will necessi- 
tate a new response. Growth will continue, progress will be made 
only "so long as this recurrent movement of distiirbance and restora« 
tion and overbalance and renewed disturbance of equilibrium is main- 

Page elght 

tained^'^One response beg'3ts another challenge for the response up- 
sets the equillbrium whichcreates further challenges In the attempts 
to restore this equillbrium. 

This process is the same all over accordlng to Toynbeej 
but all groups that undergo this process do not all have the same 
experlences, The longer the serles of recurrent challenges nncl res- 
ponses and challenges are, the greater will be the progressive dif- 
ferentiation in experiences of the parties concerned. Civilizations 
to grow must have this progressive difference between the experiences 
of various growing societies, 

Toynbee is utilizing all the above theorizing to prove 
or to bring out his conclusions on history. He remarks that his- 
torical thüught is moulded by the dominant institutions of the ''trans- 
ient socicl environiTient in which the writer exists. If this impact 
of the institutions can produce "'mind sets^ in the thinkers or a 
priori Cßtegories, the entire study of history mlght Just as well be 

dropped . 

The Industrial Revolution with its resulting economy 


and politics which we call Dersocracy »4?« the dominent institutions( 

of the so-called Western Civilization. >hone 

affected the 

historians and their trrin of thought. Historians tend to und erstand 
and consider the whole of life, but this Cr nnot be in harmony with 
the Industrial System which aepends so on the division of labor. 
These institutions which have dominated our age have undoubtedly in- 
fluenced the outlook and the activity of historians who have lived 
under its conditions. 

The Modern Western aeraocratic ideii has attempted to 
fuse into one two opposite pölnts of view which are motivated by two 
opposite spirits. Nationality has produced a spirit which psychologi- 
cally makes a group of people consider itself as one political group 
among many and also a spirit which motlvates people to believe that 

Page nine 

their little part off- society Is the whole of society. 

These two forces, whlle once corapatible, have of late 
been contradlctory eleraent?. Both served the purpose of buildlng 
Great Power? but Industrlalism has bpread beyono nctional borders and 
has become international in its aspect. NationslisiB on the other 
hsflijjhas reverted downward Splitting Great Powers into small minor 
States still believing that they possess füll polltic-.-l, eco;?omic^ 
and cultursl independence. 

Here ?/e see this challonrje and response rhythm worklng 
to bring progress to the Westorn World. The domlnstnt note in the 
consciousness of the world today is a sense of being a part of a 
larger universe replacing the conception that existed that all parts 
were to be universes in thernsclve!=. 

Professor Teggart in his Processen of History seems to 
have anticipated the aethodology ntilized by Toynbee In his books. 
Teggart Claims that history shculd be concerned with the probiere of 
the developrcent öf man, not in an. evolutionary sense but only in a 
sense that would best illustre te how m-^n everywhenj has come to be 
wh^Äps he is. He eliraincites the race and habitat theories the same as 
Toynbee do*^s. The aecersity exists for comparing events v/ithout the 
subjective interpretations of the lilsturi£.ns. History cannot be con- 
cerned with nai rative accounts.but it uust encompass all information 
of all peoples which have not been subjectei to selective activity* 
This analysis of human knowledge — the discovery of the factors and 
processes of history — wili lead according to Teggart to a »'scientific 
knowledge of the way in which man has cora^ tö be what he is." 

His methods are seemingly very similar to that used 
by Toynbee. History to him is a stud; of the past which will shed 
llght on the processes used today. These universal processes raust 
be estftblished, both those that make for decllne and those that make 
for modlfication and change. He accepts the fpct that man is a given 

Page ten 

unchanglng quantity and assunes that all human groups have started 

were possessed wlth the same capacity 

from the same level,^ai 

for advancement, and that man is sirallar regardless of hls physlcal 
environment. Man lives rnentally in an idea-systeiu "»In which he Is 
born, and hls behavior is detormined by these regulating concepts of 
his Society. The idea-systercs are modifled for m&n^s responses to 
similar Stimuli will be different, Interneil and self^contained pro- 
cesses play their part in niodification ao v/ckLI fit tha cjodific:^ tion 
whtch isdbrought about by extGrnal "contnct of peoples,^ 

This, however, does not account for the change or ad- 
vanceraent, Teggart clcssifies this as being mental, The process is 
very similar to that of the rhyt'n^-philosophern. Enforced migratiens 
of people were followed by group colllsions, resulting in an allen 
occupation of territory, The ensuing conflict causes a breakdo^n 
in the old idea-syrtems of th^ group« v.-hich release? %he individual 
mind from its set forins thereby givlng ^.-an an opportunity to build 
up c nev: System. ^!Iew idea Systems contain the old elements but it 
will not be like the old, for the Consolidated groups, confronted with 
conflicting boclier^ of knowledge, of observances, of interpretatlons, 
will experience a critical awakening, and open wondering eyes upon a 
new World. It is not the physic 1 contact of man that is of suprerae 
importance in human development, but the overthrov/ of dominance of 
the traditional system in which the individuals composing the group 
have been trained, and which they haVe unconditionally accepted.»» 
The mental celease of an individual from the established systom of 
ideas brings about human advancement. Here then is a challenge-res- 
ponse theory in different terms. Here is another advocation of a 
methodology which will roveal these processes which havo appeared In 
history r^^vealed only through a complete and thorough examination of 
all records of all men in all fields. 

Page eleven 

Allan Nevins does not hold wlth the above conclusions 

He cannot go along wlth these men in thelr belief that history is 
a rhythm recürring phenomenon. Toynbee is notable for the contribu- 
tions he has made in the manner which he has gone about attaining hls 
results. He Ls looking for a deeper uncerstanding of history. He 
"predisposes students to utillze new formulae and new scientific ap- 
paratus in an experimental search for truth. ••.leads to en impatience 
wlth the shc.llower forms of history, a demand for more profound treat- 
ments of it." Nevins csnnot subscribe to the view th^.t history can^be 
reduc€d to law as the lars which govern the natural sciences. 

Nevins pieads for an interpretive history which encom- 
passeS and utilizeff the newer scif^nces which are progressing steadily. 
History needs the sciences of econoraics, geography, biology, sociology, 
psychology, social statistic, etc. Thejr technics and contributions 
are of inaispensable value in enlarging the historical field and aid- 
ing in the Interpretation. The socioioglcai results cf Toynbee and 
Teggart are no doubt iraportant but the emergance of a const^nt and 
repetitive element in human affairs both f^ast and pr esent is but one 
phase of^ history which niust also be concerned with the uni ue ^.nd 
individUrl elements vhich cannot be found organized into any deflnite 


Coraparative history is Import ant and is a phase of 

history toaay. Fling in The Writing of History takes excoption to 


''...The historian is concerned with tracing the unique 
evolution of man in his activities as a social being, the unique 
life-record of humänity. If this be history, then history cannot 
repeat itself; there cannot be historical laws, for law is a generali- 
zation and generalization assumes repetit^ion.. .. 

History deals with past social facts, but it is im- 
portant to note that all social facts are not necessarily historical 
facts. A past social fact becomes an historical fact when it has been 
made part of an historical synthesis. . . .When our attention is directed 
toward the unioueness, the individuality, or past social facts, when 
they Interest because of their Importance for the unique evolution of 
man in hls activities as a social being, li» selecting the facts and 

pEge twelve 

In grouplng them into a compiex, evoiving whole, we employ the 
historical methodj the resalt of our work is history. 

If, on the contrary, we ar^i interested In what pest 
social facts have in comiaon, in the way in which social facts repeat 
themselves, if our purpose is to form generaiizations or lawr> con- 
cerning hunicin activities, we employ another logical raethod, the 
method of the social sci^^nces, We select our facts not for their 
individuality or for the importance of their individuality for a 
compiex whole, but foi what each fact has in coiai^on vvith others, and 
the synthesis is not a compiex unique whole, but a generali zation in 
which no trc ce of the indiviaucility of the past social fact remrins. 
The result of our work is sociolcgy, not history. Thus the v>'ork of 
the historian jlsxIrI^ Supplements that of the soclologist, The 
historian is interested in quality, indiviüuclity, uniqueness; the 
sociologist in quantity, in generalization, in repetition." 

He believes that the historian should be only interested 
in the unioue and the individual^and therefore eliminates sociology 
from history entirel> . This viewpoint is not accepted by raariu pro- 
gressive historians today for his pienise that history is unique 
and individuai werely supplies materiel for generc-xizations as to the 
genesis, ori:^anization or decline of the culture and social system 

in quijstion. 

The follovverr. of the so-callea "new history^ which 

nuinbers among its Creators and adherents Jaißes Harvey Robinson and 
J. T^ Shotwell in Aroerica absolut^ly rejects Fling's conclusion and 
more or less accepts Toynbee^s method without his conclusions, 

History has become broader, sounder, and concerned with 
a more human content ^according to this school, due to the aevelopLient 
of the newer fields of natur^^l and social sciences. History has the 
purpose of providing as accurate a picture of the past as Is pos- 
sible so we can unoerstana how and v»hy the present state of civiliza- 
tion caice about. To find out whr.t happened and why constitutes the 
motive for this school, Present and future measures cannot be 
evaluated in the light of past situi*tions for events of the past 
originated and developed in a general cultural Situation which does 
not correnpond to that of today or of the future* Civilization is 
organic and constantly changing • 

Page tliirteen 

If hlstory is to aid the future, It must make evident 

those processes in our culture whlch have been niost successful in 
accoinplishing the Important duty of erc ning the primitive bc^rriers 
to more rapid progress. It must take into account the sum total of 
human accomplishment and construct as coi»plete a picture of the past 
as it is able from all avallable sources, It must make evident the 
dominant features of every epoch and show why people became gre:.t as 
a nation. The transitlon must be made frora a consideration of find- 
ing out how things were to findlng out ho;v things had come about — 
'^wie es eigentlich gewe55en'' to •'wie es eigentlich geworden.*» 

Philosophies of history have been replaced by inter- 
pretations. The teleologicel element ana the deductive method are 
rejected, and those Clements nre stressed ahich seem to have been raost 
influential in producing present day civilization, Robinson and f^hot- 
well have supported the Psychologie xi Interpretation beiieving that 
there ^'is no single category of «causes» sufficient to explaing all 
the phases and per Jods of historical development.*» A historian must 
discover, evc.luate, and set forth the processef; which have moulded the 
dominant pl;iilosophy of life and determined the nature of group struggle 
for existence and iraproveraent, 

As Robinson said: ^The Ne^r History is esca^ing from the 
liraitations formerl^ iraposed on a study of the past, It vrili come In 
time consciously to meet our daily needs; avail itself of all dis- 
coveries being made by anthropologlsts and sociologists—discoveries 
which hcve served to revolutionjze our ideas of origin, progress, and 
prospects of race. History is not regarded as a stationary subject 
which can only progress by refining its methods and accumulations^ 
criticising and assimilating new material, but bound to alter its 
ideals and aims with general progress of societ> and social sciences ^ 
and it will ultimately plty an infinitely more Important role in our 






Jage foiirteen 

jfntellectuai life than It has hitherto done,'» 

The questlon to answer Is hov/ the present developed out 
of the past. To do this Robinson recoriuüends studylng the iAtellectual 
accomplishments of any age which would necessltate an Inductive amd a 
non-schematic raethod, Much more data would be investigated than ever 
before* Man*s thoughts have been preserved in greater quantities 
than man's actions which ar^3 open to all of the weaknesses of histori- 
cal facts, This is a plea for a history of culture and thought. 

the materirl of which can be used ivith confidonce. Modern civiliza- 
tion in an outgrowth of critical thüught and experimental scienc^. 
'^Great netd for the future is not to render less eff^^ctive and notable 
scientific specialization, research, and aiscov^^ry, but to accornplish 
this ^»rocess by intellectual and p Tsistant effort to make available 
for the intellectual class the genoral iaiplication of scientific dis- 

covery in every f ield'4^^ x^roduc^Ä^m the tenaency toward critical and 
reflectivo thin^]^ing." 

It cannot be asked Toynbe - fits in v.ith the latter 
part of the paper. These ojen^who are but a sample of Aiaerican thought 
in i egal u ^ o 'history^ and itr^ rightful place, seem to agree with 
Toynbce in a belief that sociology is a very iraportant* aspect of any 
history and that the methoc which is advocated by sociologists is 
indispensible to a real history such as each of theni present s. 
Toynbee certainly makes use of sociologicai processess in his klxtBKjt 
study. He is studying societies and civilizations so that he may 
eventuolly come to an unclerstanuing of the cna-i-lenge and response 
hypothesis which has operatea all through history. No historian can 
begin to operate as a true historian unl3ss he possessen somo knowledge 
of the laws and processes which govern human thought and group action^ 
|o that he may eventually become conscious of the ^group con/iitioning 
motives'' and the individual acts of man. These acts of man must he 
given consideration in their cultural context and their slgnlficance 

iage fifteen 

jKb arrived at only after an investigLtion of the Motivation, the 

l * 

Whayior pattern, and the consequences. 
f ; 

Human llfe and human culture have develaped in a 
group setting. History attempts to unearth the true plcture of 
huraan behavior and Its creatlons In any soclety of the past, It may 
der.l with the unique and the Indivldual, but It still provides the 
genetic and coicparative data which the sociologist depends on, Toy» 
bee, Teggart, Nevins, Fobinson, all believe that history necessltates 
an underst-ndlng of sociology if it is to fulfill its purpose of ac- 
qulrlng knowledge conc rning human society and its evolution. If 
history is to deai with the development of man ana his culture in 
social relf.tionships it Cf^nnot disregard sociology. 

t^. r' 



Ji tL...-^ ^-^ /-^ ^'^^ /^ 




c*^ h 


■y-^ f- 



K^ Z^^^ULA^^ 











,£^^ j^jj^ SüUu^ :LUa^ 



^^ rx-^ 






^ ^-v^-^yc-/ 

z:^^ A-^<— 


^.--v-. /> 


d^ hL 


'^'^^^**^"'»<«-4?' Jl 

J^-CA , C-->^c^.<A.,J^ 




<:5^ ;^ tt-^:^^ 






^— X^t^KV 


L-CJe-jE-^S-w^ ^ 


CL.^a^^ ^^-/Zs^y^r CL-^X..^ 

(C::^^>^.^ a^c ^-ct v^ 








^**^liBi»* "^i^ 










^\aksr i-A^^ u^c t sjlx 



-^«1 ■<»-• 




4,^ <*^ 

A^ "^ 




• • 





'4 O- 









^ A nt Ti^'i J^^SLns :5CaV <i0m^uTeV 

.\ V, 

^^^ %l 1 CJ2 \o ^ O^ 

\ViS^ '■^CV^ \.'jo4^a^ <^ \ 


::^^vevw*^HC\^«» VÄ^ V 

|S V4 t> <1 

!«• _?>v\C 

^ i!i. löj^i "^(WoJ^ 

j^Ä^vo^ ^ «^_ v^AcT^^ ^4,ca;ov^ W vv>-^ Vo»c »^ 

O %y\ 







^ö >^rrV »*^ cKc\\ji^Ä\ 

OCC\j^«aC4 ^^a *<8/<m5 


aa !_?Vml<^ \ft>A>(a«frNjiXXfc_!!^^ At^^ _1jv3- 






A ^ t^'* 

• <A«3 

^e ^.HWJfi ^fo 




^rf\y^o^\^^ o^ 

5^ - J\tJf<Sgu^^ i'^Ä^ _ J^>\ e\ -""^ V*^ w _ i^^^ 



D<oua/v^ do 

V»^ •!«. 

>rs» ^i'o^^X V 



aV> c Vv 


YvT^^v^ "\iV%\ ^o-» ^ w^%oo'*»^^f?^ «A' \Kt >*GI 



^ ^AW- ^\lAiAlIWrV^ Jl^W-^^^ *«?^„^J^ «t 


-^O VTNBL OjC^wA «Vt<A« ^ 



O-f «Vomtva^« 


^o ^ \^iv\^ ^ ^Vv>4 


i> tVwB^S 4^ VvJ* 


^<0>i)Vf^ Qk t\0^m^i^^ OH\^^fN 


'McuVö-» tfl <kc\\«»v^ 1^"^ 

X*.>•«J^vA^ A .__?fW 


Conc-rt^ ^ ^K** 

"^S**^ "^Vm 







'j^ _ jjvi>>amii*^ ^c^*[^! 

* <tiOs>< 

M^ ^■( 


\. Jos. 


"^^ T^\\crf< nkwyVVsM «VUwJüIs^ A ^Va 


COO^'CCVl c%M 

.^JW'*«Ni-_ÄA-_Jf»i S5f.9rit lA« 




\^ Va^Te 


^ vXvrNLM) 

S^oA^tf^^^ ^„Ql'<L„ >ajb\ 

«An^ '«\Ö[\ v^A'i'Vw.p^ ^ vi»r ^M%A 


r > 

es V* A s^^^-'T« 

*#\ «n 0<^*.vZ\ %Cp|r% » ^Äx 






*'AVi Vm-a ^ P^t^ÜSJ^^. \s 



^ Tnor^ 



*^ \^|J» 



""H^ JI^9^sj^<^^I^t-^S^'^^ 



Vf\o^ *iiT^ >W otVa/^ «Wu^iis ^ 



u r%. 


"^ 'W^_*l?^^«Ywn\_i:^Vv€ N^^Wic. ^^vtNc^w^^ 









-*^(W<r. ^>^i^^\ ^•»s SaSO-sX^ JV%\ori xneJLt <lC»<Va^^ >'^o^ 

«k tvtcufc'b^'w^ 


A Orcv^ >fNö\e^ \K^ \»i \%Ä A^ 


^ ^o n%»»-rc QAj«k-ei»tt<^ 


OX > pcA Oo\ s sm'i 






lo o 

\r<^rt\ \VsÄi-< ly^ 







_\< -^f^^^ \Vi>A.6 X-JTVKi -Tfi^A 


^V3 >^>»Q 




V*» ^ 


-b^jWA VS- 


^lUS %iS>_»^!Li>y\_. ^5v^WL<% 


*V\ cSo ^M^N ^ \ ♦ » Kx 


^ VV w^A > O 0**A 


0.>\^N A 

nJ^J»»^ Vt\|Ä^C*V ÄlO^^^tMArNM ^ i^ 

^ Ojarvtoft 




A> ^^^'^^ 


^ >TTttiiV*^S__A^ 


\»^%^ Uk^ . ^ 


kVo %»«j 


_^-Vä \>^- S)-i*\A^M^' 

5 ** 






AnisJL ^crV«j^»»^> 'iAx^^ ^J^/Y>SU^O \V\»/*n Y NVvlACt 

r\ \ NVvJ 




Jld__ÄMV_ » 

"i^ t »«^ ^^ 


'X-g^«^f-> Co^cA 1 -rt \«\^ 


Otf^^Q/* ^ 




JLJ^WäJ^ ^CV^iWH^aV^ 


*>9 Ws«. "AO-lrt\ o» 

♦ * * 


• ( 


^ W^Vv^vi v^Ä\\«A 


• >*^ O'' 

-^fcft-^ «sakCv %v c 

>acL:> c^ C 

cAoi4iV\«^ ö\>vu]cV%j^ Tkc\#», 

^i^ ^ ^oAV "W ^«,(xmj:^>^ if^ \Lifk^ ^^ 

^^ ^o N^-\v. 

A. C 

^(V* — 

:Wm >^ää ^V«Kb V\oT qAäNs, 

UL lo V« 






)Ae'\o>s3 *^ »Vi • 



^9 JlJNA ^^Srswr^'^i^^ \ 









^0^ \fX 

o. cL«jgirb«s 



^C Vf**^ 

<s ^^ 

o*^ ^B^^ 

\o 1^ 

**n^O^ VkC»w4 ^i^ \kSU^ nr%^or\\ 

tSf^y^isWe lt>-> ^>M^ 


StCi^<^ Q m ^CJ5 





^>ÄC\Ä\dCvx^ V^S riol OAii^ ^Üü<«t\« )aJl^ >• ^>^» 


v* Cx\ 





\- 60^>V I 

\« «J1Mv<<^^^ 

^ '"^ 



vorv^ ifn^^ 

^^ tri«iV» M^^ Y^'^X. VvA v^mO SavV 


^ \fe5 JMä^ 


3 FNÄ/n v« 

^\,*V.\ ^ \*i^ '\ 



^ Vigirc \ON>.^ 






_Wp \*tJ5 vCa t^ik^\ «^^^ivai 


M ^ssi\ k 

•^lo^ «yys \\V<f«« • Vfc 

s(<^\^ aVv^ Vi 



^ o«^ OQarULc 

lcXVä^ ^/Wau\a«*\% VT '*\ 



"^^ ^ ^xWvro^ 




^ 0«Av«v^ s*avN^ V' 

1%^ tJ^t» 

«i^ \cPfv«vjw\ ^c^äWvC, nDjS "TKi 

S MS C04>r%^CC\ io 




Corc\tfVaA V%r<\ÄX 

\V*c\k W ^o<i->» rvo? ^^^ TW 

>C\ o. 

AoQrt^ ^ 



^ ^ ' OgCVi»<^-i ^ Vxiü«x 

rfVA ^o^ 



\iftjrN»m»jiyyN^ ^ \>>aN '^/^K. ^W^5\ ^v^CVupc ^Äi«^^j»wjr%\ x^ovxY^ 


^^V vT Ciw ^rv*vCfc 





s^ Cn CjUMv^W 

^ 5:0(3^««^v^»<? vi\ivVv \vo\^^ "V*^ 


crt ic^ Cc«i 

vIa >J\i\0\ C«4S\v\o( tP^ ^UAjyHca*1^V « Ma^ *Ho 

9^ ^ 

i^>»w«Ai^r* \A «^^^cV ^5Bn. >^^ö^/«r qvS» V\rW5 


»•*» ^ 




.\ \ 




5 \ViÄ«*» »** . SAft.cfc't »•- 


iS\6. *%^ 

I* J i M L JCC \^ 1^ 

\^ ^>^\ 



^^ V^\* M-ivJv. 1o tik 

\t\at^ «4ei»l 

.\Jb\. \ \ 


W4?f\\ iV^ %Hlf3l*A**^ ^iKV^ 


O "vW ^«>»NoA \W CÄOM 





Ja \«i>>ft ^^wrr V^ ^^ o»'*«^^ 


m!v oV*»< \t^ 


'^%i^V^«l«^-vKJL m»*äW ^ ^^% \\<x-> ipju-^ >Si»>A'\ ^ 


♦>C* ^ 6B|U.%Tvw 



^, c 


* «««vctfCStn s ■^ 

f\Ä»^MC^\ ' \J^\^^%>KlNk Wf 


-^^^^^rv\ wVl»i*- 



s ^^Ä ^^(»^ 



(ii^ ^m«^ ^ -^•^- »^'TÄ t^^Suri* >Vm-m ^"^^^^»^ Jj>WU/^^.v*T/*..5 

«O^^ >W. VI 






i« v\ « 

o a*'^ 

^o ^9^ 

«»' €\Ä 

\ W \^ 



\iv V.V-. 

,bN» ^V4l\»Ä*\* » 

*rf» \rcv 



%&OV>^Y«^« C 


V. ty\ar* 'C^^ck.^oft«^ 


A^<S \Vml VO'^iYCSMyA'Ä Ä xm^x«-^ •< ätA^v**'^ «Mjom« \> 


^J^ V »«.x ^^ 







V» *K* *>n*MtJt^ 


^Js ^%^ o»nN^ Vu^X '^^ Wiki-n.%*/^ 

^V«^ o^^ 


^ ^VwV 



•8 . 


rlC^ Vt«^-«^i 


GL<i c^ 

Uo^^^fcrv^ CoJ^ - ^ G 0^1dA'Cr^j^(L.aJ2 






. d 

/sl^^^^KM^Ml2>'^^'^^^^^y^^ ^ 

J l^^.-^^c^ y-'Z^l^v- -^^4ut^ -^Y^ ^^.^^^2^^öLV^ 

^-e^^-^Ä^T^ <^ 









^-1-**— «-^^Giv*.-!^ -Xkiy^Cn-^^Ji^ 



^Zflü^-^Y ^'^^Ä.^^^ /7^*t^ -^e^^C^^^ Z^Lm. 








r V 


II r iii »- ! (■ ■ 



JU-ji^^^ — ^ 









?>Zd<^;;^ KvJ2-&rfi^ 

9^ A^ 

c/Z- P^ 





\/[yJLAyJ>->^^ j2.e.^iftJi^ Vo 


l ^c^JZJL 



^^UijJl6..ij^..l>A^^m^ <j^**#^ii-»/; 

iA^^iAXJjG-^r^U^ .-Ä-^-O^ 


"40 Ajl^ 












/% > cy^ß^ 

/^^-s-f- ' 

/. y^ .r/V^^ -7^/^ y;>y^/h üA^ 

^ O-^ 

l^.. 7/,^ y)hT>^^^^ 

/ >\ 

y / r v^ o-u j^c^ A o// :?t/^^-- 

z/<^ ^«-<^ 



Z^ jPh''^ V — //w f , v->< T^v <;^^fc^..j^ 



/l^^£^C^ Ä 


-<^-e ^(2:^- ^1 c ^< / (/ 




>-- C^u-c^ 


|_v^/^._/ / - ^^J^^^.. ^.^^/i^^Z^ 


U-ii^^^2A -e^^u-^u^ y/ /c^-v< /a^^. //^ ^^ <^i^ ^?^-<^ 








(ÜJUV^^ /"c^ // ^g^^^ /U^- 












V^__._^-^5^^^^^!:i™ V^^VV^ 



,^0 ^ (A /jiJr-cr)r:. l/^'x^ — iÖ^ — H^ 


■tA - ^^ki^/^lJv^^JL-^^rtÄl 

c n^ /'jy ^tjn^j^ 



'f- HLe^ ^ t(^/// (j^- /^ vvu^ 

/ _ A^ ^ (^yUi..^ /' 3 r^-*yA\^ 








a^^f'^— <\( 

/C^A^ (/.'</ 



^/^ ^ y ÄJUl^^JJtt^ 



y"" t(>^j ljl 

<7 /^ 



y^Ä^ y^A^ S/^c>j^- ^-^£ 

•^^^' ^^ 

/■ ^b^ T^Aic 

\^ -4- /^ P 




/ /~f5-.vrr^J / -aK 

^-C- C 







^^n^/?/ c/T 

U M 


/ h^'^\^- - 

(>^jjj^ T^i.. 












-^a*// ' 

'^ r- 

/^ /"a^j^/ui^ t^ A l (y^ \ /T^ 

O^^ Jl /J-O^: 








fff-stl-^/ic- /<:^f^^^--^f<^^^^^^^ ^« 



^'l/fHCaf /\f^K/t^^/iA/: 



3, -The I ßH^epT ^LJJ^UsmLl 


^ . \CeKfe/ie/idt^ Sccter/cju^ß^C^ 



^Jl.^,M. _ : 

je^c<^ cr\i i^_^ 




/ W/ a^Mjif /z>^^^dieis //<y 


ff^ a Vtfhiö^e^J_jkmL/c/ /*//. A 






£ipptM< J^Ji^' ßi&C-»i"i 

app^ ^z^k tkt vtphl^i^ (pL_j&iisltiaf7i((L 



b^c/ii\ t^ft A ü^Mx/ttUf i^i^eePnC^ 



/ • j j, ( 




UlifiL^i^e*^ <sX2/i^>^/-/i/^ ^ 

t<ni<>.etv^c^ <>i--S<>c/o/_eirti<h--J^i-^-feflefy'o ^u(Lti&- 

w ä Uü4cy(«^i ^fT^f^f^ ^re>xx:ii 

Icf^kt% no^iffc^ 



L ändmh-iij^^ ^Mj 

U^ tt^a"* iktäicht^hlt^ itcT supp(r^ct (sfiAfitoHf. 




Ul«^ ^ffju Ä €mo.^^' s^tcf ith^«thOi An/t 




-fltT ^ehils ^ igefiu/duatl AfjJo//cjis/ Stho/nß^t: 




—— \ 

i\jitl\ ^trfhtsPtmc^ff^ Wpkt-tai ^ Sinti fett 


lut^t JlJt^// 'V^f/ / 0<i^ ßtt/xx:/' /* ^*^ 

Sf/u»h'ffh , JHueK y*^ ^^^ o.c&octajf>c^ e^j.f^ 

0t /(^ ////r#^X<j>/c, /z. 














^his>^ tu I Utidet^hij^ct //^ /-c fi/ a&£cmpt/t^ 

1\ fr Qc ÜF" pnf<^r^c^ 
^<^liah is 


\rmh/itMck ^ f^t^^^ ^f^ 



P . . «'.-^e.^ «fh^j lOft/Af^e ^ S^^em^ 


'potih(9\. ffk \fitMl neutHlit-i 

^^aZ-tritj Ük /^/C fJUfhrtjloIcTtea^ ^PJ^Nrvfit, 

f^l/hntcl ht^tLa^lHe/ll*^ f^/Akdj 4 r samt ^ /f^ 

c SaJH 



ff /x sM «/phi&i/t. y /i 

///lUä/ fieuh^/J^^ W f //7;^^/rA//; ' /)i»J 

' r 




tyj nl/tca/zjr <^i!2i_^- J?^^Si:^-^3 -A- 

ä<i- persö}MStl W^iue^sodcM^ inte, /^^ Ö*7\A^tl 



(J^ l^K^^i 



_AuA(<M eakOk*^ ci '' <t,^uhc /<:?/ ey\h ah^^ 


7c^ Ol Z^- 

Ll^LAscterK [die c/äi 



Jjjy (A hvdu ehe A /jr ifä Uit -fi^dyikieffsh 
LhuJ A ifi_l, / ^f^o2cftrj frei /^«T 


._ — _ __._^ ^ - 

.Äf}^ Jq.JCiLf P<tx*9ta/ Hacfißt^. — 

J_/-e*/ 44 ^irü—J^^^^o'^<^f eccr^ tH^ 



jth.j£.(iiii^jt ^ät ^ / 2*t^ /i A ^/«f^ /un^iki 

hthxe*ti Ufier (>t^ hltT^^ichc 


^Zoi^ Ji&c ^cj A^/^ ju^d^ /^^^ Ji<r9^ a. — 

njm<. <fL Ulmih^^^i^J^J^^^ ^^fieM ^ 



ne^ j. 



1h^ - tofh 

'ar- minn*NXti^t 

(UahKi^H^f^ ht 

%y J^JdiJk^.^^Qü^^^ ^* 

cfj Je<^dfliCtU-^ ftti yv«"' 

(ihr /^et^^S^rjlj 

/ , 



/Jifittcj f/uth ^ SutcdHC/daA 








'tue, fktt <t p^lihcal U(^ 



>fi j-fr- ntu &,h 4, 



P^yf^Uha^ (^^^Jjr/Jht Cö^y n ju/^>^^ 







JAKJiiOv /» /U>«afc. 

AßjLocK^ c-dwKu,(>h V^ 

1o yiA^AA;tL__&t>ct:_-/U^a^ -v^ U)«j^A>o vWilma^^JS!- 


vuKaaJ^s; ^ • 

^JMhw: ^t^\)^^uA. lAAJlMjt^ hjf^ocy M cio^siL 

y(iZiZ^^AÄJt^ Qj^rfjJih /\(\AJ(^vl^ ^fiJJu^ hjL OUULTCCAJl^^ 

') fu 


ImMtv^ ^ Y^^ H /v>^^<^t^^g^^ , \Am ay\Si "^^»l^^lskJ^ 

_1^ t4v-<y uJLQ< /^^giU A^ ^<i_J^9^J^.^iijU 

» « 



h) H^ f'Aod 



AaM^äv <lf^v£AK>a kilft^ k^<^2_J'u2fl#AMMÄi^ai^ 

/iMA C ü^ i'M. " iA^ulAo^ /Sf^AM^tvoSi^ ^W^XSk^^ 

ct^ (0e<Äü3*Pc 

J)^<X^ ^UJLwJfe/^ -V- <Kj 

l(X^*^Ji J^^i^UV Jü„ £A14^^ ^MA^ 

/1tJLu/v^ »\ ^(iJ^^AMxJ^ fi^JE«^ VAA.._j^g^!^^>N^ 

^Ua^ AA/tft" 


\ . r * 

^tjJi f\H\JjSS «h^_i^ VjLcJLÄiL S^'^A>ar*^ ^ 




jU^^Ji ilUUM'lMJtkd-^ ^ ^ (lhiU>t. Jta^^ 

..£<t-?Ä(j«!r«^<3<^ 4._e^ 'Ma/ov: 




UakJJ-Ö^^KT^ At^ frTtßj^ 



*^^ /^ X-^vJS-^^U^i^öi^ 



IH^Aju^ HwWa, 


idtv Ujij^ U^tle^ e^vu^huA^ ^\xyM 

VUA< tAA. 

Jl^ifl AA. WUxT OAjfc OL jy^ AAtA'y/U i^iH uLLuCA"^ T VMA> ( 

ffO-^ltJjoSt^ (O-WoL^S iLH,OucMx. yi^ hks-UJb^AAA/Mrs^ 

JUj^iJuz^aJU^ , Vieri. onÄ- iJ£t«jL +^LjaJteruje/» Välsa 

X>^«u/ ^a^.£j L 'HuC^ 4iÄ^.VAfiya-j^^ o 




__AäAV^A>\A|CA e->v__'UjL LxJLA -.- -r iau^Vi/i ) OLXSLi VV-OT" 

1^(U4^ \iS&\jiÖ /^Aji^üJU (U^CXa^ ~fe A\t4^ [^kxX i/goS^ 

Co'T^AAJ^gt Ayuyla^ /vn a/Cax H a ^ak^ JUv Jajuuqs. I-Ua a^c '/^frv.__ 

Jlox«=___^^i<^-y.üL^r^JL4^ /UüUiJfe-UA^^^ ^ 4*taiv*^Ä^_^ 

_AaÄc 'H^Cla^-Vp j^<j<rdS ^ CU^^^ U^ C^AaJjm^ Dfitfijutq^ 



k K> v6ui^ V<^ <^>^J^ /|Mxmj|LÜ*„ Ji(i>(>^^^^^^*Ä^ 

^n WV^<"t£MA ^KaAmaa^-J 3 "^tlMib ÄxiM, JaA^AJ ^AA^b^5^^ 




'Äa^S-c — ^ 


^e^9tJZcyu. * C^^TTtA:^ 

d^^^^^ ^^5^.^ __-^«^^d^<-^«<^.^ j^^Ji^ 

::^Aj^ ^^^^t^^e/^y^*^0tAt/lCu<if 


.^.^»t<?4fc^2i,^^,__^^^;r^i£.— =:::^fe>«»<? ^^^^^-fe^'HHÄt* _-«^t<^ 

^ - '^T^'^^^^^r^ 

^t/o/u^ ^l^^^^ -. 

(^:^^»f.^^2Ä^<-^:^2^yt^ ^:^<2^.*«!^^ a^>vSi^-rUQr^n^»AJ^ — c«^ 



y^Sv^^^ — 

C^c^^'^hJ^ — /^€^-^ 


^^^:r^,c^cca<^ __^,;^C^ 







.^Z^C^ ..^^^ttZi/l^ 



^!^:iCä(^M^i^^ ^Ä^:ytaj£<^^e'tc.€^^^^tä^, 



(2^C4u\^^^ ^^:ry\C^ ^^^^ 


<2^ ^^^^CtAA 


• - 


,^^?t^ ,-Z€^.^0^^ C^z^^y^ ^^^yvdJCy 


Uy^4^^!CjL/iyX^<rt^ a^^^^Cyy^ 




e/^eo-^^vT^ yC>cA-<^:^ 

j^^fc^ ^-^c^i^s^^ 



..^^y^tAJZZt'U^g^ ät^rt.^^ 


X^;<:7 C^i^^C^CJ. 


^^fy^ /U^ 

^u^^*-^ /C^ 





^Xc ^^yyv^^^ ZlfeJjJ: 

,f^ a^Cu/xj^ , .ö'i^ 



yZi^L^^UA^ y6<j^^c^;^ y^rri^tc^^ i^<^cc^L^iCCy 






4/'cu6ci^^. t^^^-^ Ajl^ 


.^^J^^^ „_^^^^?Ä.c<r?^^ 



^-.^^^^^^SiZ^^X^ J^dj^^ 





^Z-^L^^K^-Vt^ ^l^»!V 

/ %U^Ct>^A J^.^ 


'tÄjt^¥CCyy^\Jt'^l. ^<^^^^Ä:t^CtfLe 



Z^^nfi'^f^ ^Co'^'C^ <>S 


yCor^CuxCti^^^ ,.a^^z:^6c<^ 


j^^yuO'-iryiy^^i^i (Z^y^^ ^^^Z^UCZuZi^^-r^^ -..^^'^^ 


% - 





-6^-e^<^7^>^ ^<^^-e^l*^,_^ 



<i:iCoc/{jL 'tt 

,.^^x;.^<^!id^>f.^ /fc^-^ 




^t^ ^^'>e2^25j^:2S;,t>d:^L_#ist^i^^ >^-^ 








.^rTti ^ x^T Tt^^t^^^^^^^l^ 



^ ^rL./^c<u^^ '^i^c^'-4<'^>ityr^ 


^./z^oaX^.'^^^UjC ^^?tJ^^^^.- ^^U^a^^u^ 


jCf^ , ^^^<^^^Vi%^ _„_^!^2^^-?o^^:^ ^^—^^^ 





OiA-^uo Cd^^i^T/'^^^^^'yf^cu^tC^ 

c<y^^^ yCh/^ 



^z/yzMy(.^ ^i^^^^^^ 


^aZc^^yy^ ^«-•^ 


.^^g^^'O^.^^Ky^lUSc^y^ ^ ^.^<>^^^:>t\ X<, 





J* - 





- ^^i6lj^ 

^ -^ 

4^/ c^ 


^ ^ 





^Ö-ZW^ ^=^'?^ C^^^^yO^Ti/Q/C^c/^^ . 7Za^ C^ 


'-^^ vA_>^^ 








C^yt^A.^^i.^-i-'ä'i^^ C^^^yf^^Cf^ 

*,c/y ^^('<^'^A-'ß,^otjC 

T^IAC c^ g (Za^a^ou^ c^rt/jt^^^^^^^^^- ^^ ig;^g^t>^^4^— 

i^k\ yi/^Zu/kf 6c^-fi</<^ 








<::^^^^^^-n.tA^^ cßy/ f^^^^' 

aCtßl^ y/^uC ^^^f-OK^^Zc 



Jt. /:^^L.aujL^ /A^e<^o^ 


^!^^ r/cicT^ 

^.^i^d^^:^-»!^ ^^>^CcM2^ c^^^^yt^ 

l/Uta, {/£4/o<Z 


tx9 ^-r^^ 

^::^W^iW^>^iiö«*^ ^ «-^ <^;J^Ä;>^ie^i^ . C^<^ ct!^^^^^i::yt.<:^!U9^^ 



XZ^^^^^^^ -^^ ^ <^<^n^-^^ä2C 




i^aM<jt<a dl^?t^ df<x<Z<? 


(^Uc^^^rt^C^-rkTY ^ 





^^2.€iccc>U^ty\,.^-^ C^^rt^^ ^L^ y-^^^^iS-^^A^A 


i^i^^^icjuyu-^ ^ 

§,.^A.ZU/\/tt{^>\^ yC CCC^-^lCö 




^cT ^^ 





^-t^-^CA^ Of ^^Z-ccjC^ 



yO C<ü^^rVZJ^^ 

/Uy CuC6Z 

r-T^ ^ 


;25te y^r?^AÜi^ujt^ ^ <^tyt^ 


^.^c^ ^^&-r>u^^^^Uyi^ 







/l4:X<^9^r^^ -^ ^^Ä^^vt-c^:^ .^j^4^€<k>^ ^ 

i^ /f^ic^i "^^"^-^^ ^^o^^ti^ 




/zJtZ^^-n^ ^^^-C 

I « 

<;34/\:i , i^u./^ 


-Ö?6^ /^a^j^iAjz^ ^ 

^KjC'Tt^CJC^ y^ /^Ä^ /^(S^jt^t^ütoi^ 



<ayP7^ /? 

dUtZ^i^f'<-^s^>^ y^-^^t^ 


^^^e^a IA/£J(0LA^ 


-^^^il ^K^ ^-T^^Ji^V'Xvt^t^SS^ ^*r^ZK>^/l^.Jt2!^^*>^ 





^<^>y%,ir-fUL/^ /OJ^^ /jQ^ 


^^^^t^-^x^ ^:tyo ^^5?d-^ 

^,..JM^^.Z<J^.^ cS^^^i-^t-^^ ..i^?^^fc^>v ^^^^a<^(^ 




^/Tv^C^ j^^r^ ..-^cc^(^'<^ Ua<z:;^ ,.^^s^e-_^. i^pt^ 





l/l/zMc^ a:::6(f^^w^ 


^.CZ/u.^!:^ (/^zMaO^ 


^Laj^ A.e<Ajaß^3u..^^^ 









^^€2^«/ /^^^tf^ A<XAMLytAÜy\^ 

($ <^^C^,.^A<J-o^^ 

['ALt^iplL p^LyfOdi^sjzJ' yU y<3^ 

/^^ . ^:97/eA^(Jc<^^'^yi 




^^^(XäU. ^^^^^-^^ ^^^^ ^^i^L.^^'t.äcZZt^KäiJ^ .^-'^Tt^C^^^H.^trJL^ 






^«Xyry^^^Q^.^ cX^ 64A^oC/I^ZZf^ 


at/i^u^YA. a£^j?f:i__^^-<^-'^^ __z!;^ 





y^^ ^^ C^ Z ^:^^C^ 



4^c.-y^ ^dt^U.^^ \ZA.Z^<y(^i^ 

y^ ,^^^2Wi<^4^^:^<..!3ö.^^l_ ZjLs^ /<> <:^g^V>2<p ^.^^41^ 

OC£y^ ZTiC^ ^ <:iMAJU &./- 

^ C^ije.<n^j^ ^^CuA^jO^ ^iyyrta-^ 

<^^^£^tyi.^<JT^ 4L/P ^t^t A^ ^ ^Ut^Ous^ ^ Ad^ 



&2^ /^ .^n^ 


/^^^ A^ 

/^^i^t/^^<,K>^ e2>va^ 

yxJU y<^^^pM'C€^^ x-c^-O 



/Tr^^^vA^ /^ZtiZ.^ i2^j^^2^Z<^^ ^^CA.-^^'U^ 

^/^^^i^y^iSL^c^J^ ^^::X^e>2>^^A^ ^^:-c^^ 




^ tPjf^^Ox^ (Äto^^ ^rLt«ü2,.\^ 

<i-<i'v^-*<Ü6^»-su^ <a,-»«-«!«d ^-^^3- 


dZi^U^ .^PT^tff^ ^ 


U(iJ^oüL^ ^^/^c<^^ C^C"^ .^^rL£^u^->^ 

^CüU ^^^^CÄ^L^^ 

^i^U? /CUL^^ 

^M^ tdi<^cJ^i:ujL ^c<ji.^,jrie. /tK. J(\^iM^^ 

jk^t^t.&Ujt^^-^t^ Co^^/X ^tAt /:2Z^i^i»^^ 

.y7jUuo€t^ cf-</- i2(;!^t^:^>^Wn 


/Cc dP02-^n^2A/L^ JLZ^ 



c^^ (^ ^^-^^/^ 

(>vx ^^^--'^^ juKc^iX£yt^U:<^ 




^«:^ Äe-,/^ x<^ 6cc<£i\£^^^ot^ 




<::3^U^Lc<s8>Z<ii^ ^^:^^5^j4^^^iK^<^ ^^U>^.-^7^^^ 



^^OA^^.cc^^ AjU^^U^ 

__^St:K-<jav^ <k.^ i^^i^-^ 

„jcr^^^^o-d/^^-/^ .^ 

<X^irL^ O 





ycPi^ec^ /oe.<£^^^t..^cst:^ ..^l^^^tc. .-^^«^- 

YP'^o^^-^^uZ^-- J^ Ä^ 



C^rf^^^^t>^u<).n4^^ ^ ^^äJt y2iiy?<nicc<yi^ ^^^ 











Cö'-yifi^.^ ^Xc.Ciy^^''^^ ^- .^d^^^ 



^^^-t*^ 2^€? 

^e/f-^i^c^u^ oC O^ 

A£><yt^ '^ jic>t^ 



:^ /(^^' a^ 



^^^ ^C^ 

Li-^2^ / 



<:L.jUi%^.'.^.jütU^ A^ViX ä y^dU^^^^^ry^KSL. 


^^^vv ö-<^6a> 



oic^Tvc^ ^ A>AxJ^L<x^>>^^ 


aJ^ccM^ "^^ ^ /f^^^^'^^^^^^''^^^ 

Yp^/uJ<fL^±4l^Ucu ^ 





Mf^fX'^UyL^^ ^l.^^L^^ £^&7^K!/uZo 


^ r- 








C^ yOQ^^.CJ^X^_^S- 

^C^^C^O ^C4^ y^>t4> ~^=:2:>it^M-C O^-d-^tJ^- 



JZSk __,,l^i:22trt^ta^^>^^l 






yirij^^ CVC. \y ^JlXjJL^S^^ 







K - 

I ' 



'ÜsL^H ijutiA — 





Uvrf trf 



Jlue a/a /uuih(m/^ Ml kuf^^. 

jbcUtoJt Ut/f O^ 


— 4(-.--. 



— .^ 


)^ /^(ftA 

/iMjjticLua lu ^lCL/üic 

rj \ I mA ux) lcL/r?cL f?i 

- -ßJi/buJ /WMjd 

Cum tun/^bJLuJjMe 


cL U ktJoMjjuim^ 






JZ) C^.M/L Ü^LüCk 

c an^r^ M <^^ - -t - ^ 

aJti/i , 7h. Alo uJUeufä' kjanJ^ti 

iaji cP^^ ^^^nmi^^ 

ÜHMII I. I II M M — — •*- 




(T LLfli 

^^KLO^CfiÄL t^_ 



(^^)juntaturti Co cui crUu Onoüii/i cLwJl cd Ci/iiruu, ThU 

4^ iAit/>«. AtlctMJOriA 

'Ai<Lu)Jl acl>u/fw ^^^ W Ufi JhnJp 



t* ahm ajudL^jitU' ^jur^ ujJlh^^M o^ 

o^ii^mii\k (>^rmjSioii J\JuhK/m 

oUo. Z._.: 






cL/i4i Ux^d 


Aww^ , 

cJL (U/)nJ,JußL/ff (tiL C^ - - 

C£ . 



.m <i« »II«! 






tJkoAJuyyncbLt^ JU^diM/ifuM jAjAmiJiJ^ cur? 

iJU LmhAjut^ CU/yiÄct iHjLuart üL 

Aat(iiLi^4iY ^ c^ 


._Ql}-h \wji(p M /r^cioi iJ>at iü-MUöjO-^ - 

^ÜAi^>iyncJiJ^UirlXL^ Uot^mUu 




l\t pAlnJL f/inu 

, (a> rü MMA/m^ U/> 




ß^ OaJm ofdj }j(f)cb 

tc iL I p uAjfkliAl^ ZU f J ymj CU^€U^ 

' -f' 




UlfjyJlA^A ä^ 

(Ai^jOaJiJt_ 1^ /m2> 

uJuJLjiäyfP Ih 







■ laai I w i— — — »»^»- 





\\UkX ^lüL 

IjMud (rj ruyo 

- - - Q/ M ' 

ii JouUa/ 





JjMC U tu (yUjyJiAJiyL 



tjL UJÖlAj 

IsJ^ ^jiml^ ^jt^- 


iSlfct.^ ÄSBÄ" ^^SrtH^ÄU'S 




Dr» Albert Salomon 

Oourae #55ö-a 

Theory of Social Ohange and of History, 

Por imdergraduato credit» 

Psychology and Max Weber' s Oaueality. 

DoY Rappaport 

59-21 Fortyserenth St# 

Long Island Oity 4, N.Y. 

Spring 1951 

Por many an American reader the flrst uneettllng aspect 
of Max Weber' 8 writlngs ie a style which, in the available 
translations, often abfusoates meaning \jy a fog of words.* 
For the purposes of this paper the doubtful aseumption that 
the Student has mastered that peculiar inter-language mocking- 
ly oalled "translated" from the German, will be made* 

Weber in his study of the origins and structure of modern 
Western capitalism became a one-man imity of science movement. 
He apparently found it necessary in his research to describe 
a great intellectual oircle encompassing the entire science 
of man» His genetic approach to the understanding of oontem- 
porary society required historical inquiry. His concem with 
history demanded an understanding of the constants and variables 
of humsin social behavior« An inquiry into human behavior leads 

♦In first studying Majc Weber' s essays, which often contain 
sentences encompassing ae^amy as seven or eight dependent 
olauses piled one upon the other, and in one rajidomly selected 
instance no lese than one hundred ajid thirty six words, the 
bewildered reader is frequently and regrettably so entangled 
in the closely woven mesh of qualifications, oonditions, and 
possible exceptions, that may perhaps be necessary but are 
nonetheless extremely cumbersome modifications of the central 
thought, that he, in his laborious explorations, often in the 
first and all too frequently in the second or third perusal 
of a sentence, cannot clearly distinguish or disoerpt from 
its surrounding prolix integument the central "concept", fact, 
opinion or "idea" for the oonveyanoe of which the sentence 
under consideratlon was originally conceived, designed, exe- 
cuted and launched by the author« 

to psychology and anthropology. In all these fields there is 
the need for a logical method and an undereteuiding of the asso- 
clated epifltamologloal Probleme« 

For WeboFf the fundamental unlt of social analysie was 
always the conduct of the human individual. All social pheno- 
mena are for him reducible to the interacting social behavior 
of individuals* The actione of individuals, he maintains, are 
neither random nor purposeless« The motivations of every man 
are capable of analysie beoause there is a limited ränge of 
human natura and all men behave in the same ways for the same 
reasons. ?y a process of intellectual projection one is able 
to put oneself in the other man's boots and understand why he 
acte or acted as he did in a particular context of tlme and 

While this method might have justlfication if if were 
based on a real empirical study of the variety of human be- 
havior and motivations, such research is only being undertaken 
now« Weber himself was foroed to base his typology of the 
regularities of human conduct on his subjective experience 
and on the available knowledge of the conduct of others. He 
States unequivooally that "Every science of psychologioal and 
social phenomena is a science of human conduct (which includes 
all thought and attitudes)".* 

♦Weber, Max. 

"The Methodology of the Social Sciences" 
by Shils, E.A., So Finch, H.A«, 19^9 
(hereafter referred to as 'Method') 


Pürther, *The means employed by the method of 'under Stan- 
ding explanation* are not normative correctnees but on^ the 
one hand, the conventional habite of the inve8tigator».»in 
thinking in a particular way, and on the other.,«hi8 oapacity 
to 'feel himself emapthically into a mode of thought which 

deviatee from his own««."* 

And again, "the hletorian caji carry out retrospectively 
the aame mental calculation which hie 'hero* . ••performed«"** 

The asBumption that one can by empathy reproduoe another'^s 
thought processes requiree, if it is to have any validity, 
an empirioal and reliable knowledge of nomology that is not 
in itself oulture bound. Waber' s understanding method was 
greatly simplified by his ignorance of the relativity of all 
conceptual Systems and their dependenoe, for example, on lan- 
guage# The Hopi conceptual scheme which dispenses with tlme*** 
or the absence of any concept of causality in the thought 


processes of the Trobriand Islanders**** are extreme examples 
of the corrections that must be made before attempting to 
project oneself into the mind of a sociflil actor from a culture 
complex different from one 's own« 

Weber 's typology of thought and particularly of rational 
thought was forraulated in terms of a picture of man's place 
in the uni versa that is in itself the product of modern science» 

♦Method, p.4l **Method, p.löj 

♦**Whorf. Science and Linguistics. Technology Review 19^ 
♦***Lae, D.D., "A Primitive System of Values" Philosophy of Science 

1940; p.555 

It remained therefore wlthin the framework of Westam hietory 
and was unabl© to dlsoem that framework in relation to any 
other or greater ränge of posslble human experience* 

In particular, with referenoe to ProteBtantism and modern 
oapltallsmy Weber'e oonceptual tools were incapable of dlsoer- 
ning the difference between cause and effect, and co-equal 
effects of a more basic change in the mode of thought of Western 
man. Kardiner* points out that "There is much evidence... 
tiiat ^^e praciaoes and social situations which made for the 
Reformation existed long before Luther« •••The ideologies 
which crystallized csüinot be said to haye been oreated by the 
Reformation^ unless we inolude in this caption all sociali 
ethicali scientific and economic innovations which occurred 
in the sixteehth Century •" 

Kardiner' B method does not, however, contradict the basic 
elements of Weber^s technique of historical analysis; it 
amplifies them by giving an insight into the mechanisms where- 
by the plurality of factors intermesh and shape each other • 
It helps to show how pereonality, econoray, value system, reali- 
ty perception, etc., influence the social process. The theory 
of historical causation thus evolved is no lese pluralistic 
than Weber*8, though it does point up the difficulties in 
Weber* 8 method of abstraction and "mental isolation of the 
oomponents«* Oontemporary anthropology and psychology have 

♦Kardiner, A., The Psychologioal Frontiers of Society. 19^5 

pp. 457-56 

greatly expanded what Weber called our "nomological" knowledge 
and thereby off er greater legitimacy to the synthetio prooess 
proposed by him when he wrotet 

* 'knowledge' on which a judgement of the 'significance' 
of the Sattle of Marathon rests i8|«»»on the one hand» knowledge 
of certain 'facta' ("ontological;...'belonging' to the 'histo- 
rieal Situation' •••^ and on the other-** «knowledge of oertaln 
known empirioal rulee paAcularly those relating to the ways 
in which human beinge are prone to react under given situations 
( ' nomolögi cal knowledge ' ) • " 

One "fflU8t«««8üialyze that ' Situation' into its 'oomponents' 
down to the point where our ' imagination' oan apply to this 
•ontological' knowledge our 'nomolögi cal' knowledge •••"♦ 

Modern developments in the social scienoes promises to 
pro vi de the oontemporary investigator with the Information 
required for an enlightened 'Imagination' and an empirically 
founded 'nomolögi cal' knowledge« 

This expanding area of Information derived from the psy- 
cho legi cal Bciences can be applied to all three principles 
of causal Imputation.** 

l) "Objective possibility." The mental surgery of histo- 
ry, that assumes that a given phenomenon had not taken place 9 
oannot even be hypothesized usefully without some knowledge of 
the functional interrelationships of social phenomena. There 
ii a linkage or concatenation of social phenomana that may not 
be arbitrarily disrupted* Thusy in assuming a different 
religious memifestation in a given epöch, one must recognize 
not only the historioal oonsequences, but the neoessary changes 

♦ibid p.174 

♦*The three principles according to Bendix, Reinhard: Max 

Weber' 8 Interpretation of Oonduot and History« In: Am«Joum«Sooiol 

May '46 pp. 518-2? 

in assoeiated social phenomena that must have preceeded and 
acoompaLnied such a ohange in a group's projeotive System, 
SU oh as family structure, parental care, growth pattern, the 
content of reality and value Systems, life goals, etc. etc. 

The recognition of such necessarily assoeiated changes 
makes the 'isolation' of factors far more difficult if not 
impossible, but it is of oonsiderable aid in validifying an 
hypothesis of "what might have occurred." 

2) Internal Analysis« In interpreting meaning and in 
attempting to discover those circumstances of an event which 
mainly accounted for it, the stress must be laid not only on 
defining types of motivation, action, or social relationships, 
but on the necessary functional intercorrelations between them« 
The dynamic equilibrium which charac^rizes the social process 
is not an aggregate of additive factors but an integral such 
that every factor affects not only the total but in some degree 
each of the other factors as well» Weber wrote: ''•••we are«. 
conoerned only with»«.how are those 'aspects* of the phenome- 
non which interest us affected by the individual co-determi- 
nant factors?" For him the "how" meant, what are the conse- 

quences? But for us it must also signify in what manner; 
by what mechanisms, do the factors affect the signifioant 
aspects of the given phenomenon« This understanding is required 

before one oan attribute oaueal importanee to an^r Single 

faotor* Tho causal relevanoa of a factor^ aa Weber polnts out, 

oan be assumed only In accordanoe vdth empirioal rules and 

emplrioal knowledge* 

5) Caueal Adequaoy» Por Weber, adequate oausatlon ae 

opposed to Chance oausatlon, referred to 

"those oases in whioh the relationship of oertain comple- 
xes of 'conditions' synthesized into a tinity by historical 
refloction and conceived and isolated, to an 'effect* that 
occurred belongs to the logical type." in which ■•••in the given 
historical constellation oertain 'conditions* are oonceptually 
isolatable which would have led to that effect in a preponderan- 
tly great majori ty of instances given even the co-presence 
in that constellation of other possible conditionsj while at 
the same time, the ränge of such conceivable causal factors***" 
(which might have caused).«. "other effects («.with respect to 
aspects deoisive for our interesti )««*appears as very limited»"^ 

In other words, the test of causal adequacy is the deter- 
mination of the probability that under eimilar oircumstanoes 
the same results would take place« Whether oausality itself 
is understood as a principle of exceptionless repetition or 
as a Statement of a high order of probability, that the oausa- 
lity involved in social phenomena is a probability statement 
would, today, be denied by no one. The "empirioal" rules of 
social behavior are themselves probability Statements of a 
fairly low order» As a peculiar consequence, Weiier's insistence 
that the oontrast of "chanca" and "adequate" refers not to the 
"objective" causality of the oourse of historical events, but 
rather to our Isolation by abstraotion of a part of the conditi- 


one into objecte of judgementB of poesibility, baoomes etron- 
gly reinforoad. As Reiohenbach pu/ts it, *The law of causality, 
•••holde only for ideal objects^** 

But, though Weber recognized the role of the calculue of 
probability in the estÄbliehment of events, he did not, appa- 
rently, see it as the basis for the etatement of empirical rules. 
(The eesay on adäquate and Chance causation was unfortunately 
never completed.) 

One consequenoe of this, relevant to the discußsion of 
the role of psychology in Weber 's method is found in the follow- 
ing phrase: "relatively few oombinations are conceivable of 
those oonceptually ißolated •factors' with other causal 'factors' 
from which another result could be 'expected' in accordance 
with general empirical rules •"*♦ 

But if general empirical rules must Ahemselves be expressed 
as probabilitles, taking into account such matters as the di- 
vergent behavior of different Personalities under identical 
conditlons, the mental prediction required for the establieh- 
ment of objective possibility and/or adequate causation becomes 
considerably more complex^ 

Weber* 8 method of historical analysis is based on the 
assumption that if one oan isolate factors, modify some, 
oeteris paribus, the effects will be modifled^ But if, as was 
pointed out above, any significant factors are changed, it oan no 

♦Reichenbach, H«, The Riss of Scientific Philosophy, 1951 p^l64 
♦♦Method, p. 187 

longer be aesumed that ceteris ara parihis* If every hlstorioal 
event ie in some reepects unique, and every historical indl- 
vidual likewiee, then every faotor ie signifioant» 

The logical conclusion is that a value judgement entere 
in not only at the level of seleotion of historical "effeots* 
to be sujected to regressive oausal analysis, but in the se- 
leotion of oausal faotors to be isolated« 

Whether one seleots economiosy religiony sun-spotsi or 
ephincter tralning as among the relevant oausal faotors to be 
oonsidered in the analysis of the rise of capitalism, is ih? 
itself dictated in no small part by the interests and value 
System of the investigator. 

No combination of social 'faotors' can, in the final 
analysis, be responsible for the origin of the particular 
System of eoonomio relationshipe called capitalism* It is 
necessary in order to establish any such connection, to deal 
with this Problem in reference to the human beings who consti- 
tute the basis as well as the observable phenomena of all 
Booio-cultural structures. It must therefore be recognized that 
the socio-oultural system affects the peychological and social 
nature of the human beings who partlcipate in them and that it 
is in tum a refleotion of the psycho-social nature of its 


participants« A socio ty endows human oeings with certsln dis- 
tinot characteristios, varying from one oulture to another, 


which impinge on the blological organiem. Ihe biological or- 
ganism inte mall zeS these experlenoee in a manner that varles 
with ite constitutional endowment« The participants in a 
Bociety will in tum, hy their concrete actione, establish what 
may be a ohange within a part of their System of social or 
economic relations« Being predisposed in certain directions 
because of the combination of bio-psychological and cultural 
characteristlcs which make up their actual Personalities, they 
will excercise certain options in response to their social and 
physical environment in terms of these predispositions« 

While reference to the human content of social structures 
may olose the gap between two social phenomena, (or two histo- 
ric moments), two new gaps are created in healing the first. 

So far it has merely been stated that c ultural factors 
help shape their human carriers« There remalns the question 
raised earlier of how this is possible. What is it in the etil- 
' ture and what is it in man as a bio-social organism that oan 
enable a particular culture to shape a particular limited ränge 
of social type 8? 

Similarly, what tralts of these particular types can 
lead to the excercise of a particular Option? 

At the present state of knowledge in the social sciences 
these questione must he asked, but there are only the first 
gropings towards an answer« 

Sseentiaixy, any cross-cuiturai socioiogical analysis 


muat aak the questions just discuesed. Weber is unqueßtionably 
aware of the fact that human beings must be taJcen into conei- 
deraoion wiuun x^ne oroad framework or ide anaiyeie. He orten 
reiteratee the fact that for him the fundamental unit of social 
ajialysis is indivldual conduct. His emphasis on the ideolo- 
gioal content of oultures implies that these ideologies are 
actually accepted by real, living and breathing human beinga* 
The Protestant ethic is hardly proposed as a eocial actuality 
apart from the indivi duale who have it as a rationale* But in 
all this there is no real einswer to the question of the me- 
ohanism operating in the interaction between the concrete indi- 
vi dual who embodies the eulturei and culture as it transoends 
any Single individual« Without some underetanding of that 
mechanism there oan be no real understeuiding of causality. 

Methodologically, the major conclusion which Weber drawe 
from hie realization of the human content of social structuree 

may be an attempt to answer the problem posed here, but it 
falls to do so« While Weber gives every evidence of a sinoere 
concem with empirioal validity in research, in his method of 
Verstehen as an analytic technique he parte Company vdth empi- 
rieism; and Verstehen plays a major role in his sociology« 

The concept that one human being caui by an act of "com- 
prehension* draw valid conclusions conceming the inward state 
of another person by observing his overt behavior seems to rest 


on eome sort of empathlc process between obeerver and object 
whioh cannot be scientifioally eBtablished. If and when 
Dr. Rhine'e experiments in parapsychology begin to yield 
useful roBultsi* then this sort of mental telepathy or clair- 
voyance will be of coneiderable assistance in establiehing 
the connection of the human individual with his cultural back- 
ground and the social acte which he vrill choee to do. 

For the present, no aot of inner comprehension caji be 
postulated within an empirical ecience such as Weber intended 
sociology to be. It is not my Intention to criticize Webeir 
too harshly for this falling. The recognition of the problem 
alone constituted a step far ahead, and only now^ in what 
would - had he llved - been his 87 th year, is there general 
recognition of the problem. And very little has been done 
beyond posing the problem. 

A final word might be said here conceming the place of 
historical analysis in a system of sociology. An historical 
emphasis such as Weber* s has values as well as di sadvantages . 
Oertainly it is of interest to determine the genes! s of a cer- 
tain historical st ructure and the influences that molded that 
struoture into its present form. Weber meete the very importcoit 
qualification of drawing his theory of historical devolopment 
not from reflections concerning what should or might have 
happened, but from available records of actual events. But 

♦They have so far served to give a coneiderable jar to those 
"laws" of shooting dice» described by Welrer as varying in ways 
absolutely inaccessible to our knowledge. Method. p«l82 



deeoribing how a Situation aroee dooe not siiffice to explain 
its natura ae it ©xiets. One must recognize the differenoe 
betwean tha origin or devalopmant and tha etructura or function 
of a phenomanon« Th© question of how capitalism cama to ba 
ie valid for sociology only to tha axtant that it halps anewar 
tha quaetion of what capitalism is. For Wabar, of coursa, 
sociology was as much a tool for tha undarstanding of history 

as history was a tool for tha undarstanding of sociology« 

Whila ha did not attampt to sutstituta a thaory of histo- 

rical origin for a structural and dynamic analysis of the phe- 
nomena he studied, thera doas axist a tendency in some of his 
work (this refers only to what is available in English) to ba 
conoarned with questions of origin for their own sake. This 
does not deorease their value for the historian, but it does 
oocasionally make them less sociological« Weber may have in^ 
tended to suppiement much of his historical analysis by re- 
lating it more closely and more concretely to the structural 
mechanisms of his contemporary social reality. Since nona of 
his work was actually completed at the time of his death, 
no one oan be sure of the diractions in which it might have 
baan alaborated* 

The steadily increasing interest in his work has given 
impetus to a whole field of investigation and his work, if 
not completed, is at least being carried on with growing 
vigor by others» 

« « 


Bendix, Reixihard. 

Kardiner I k., 
Mclvar» R*M»9 
Gk^ldenweieer, Alex«, 

Salomon, Albert 
Weber, Max 

Weber, Max 

Weber, Miaix 

Parsons, T», 

"Max Weber* 8 Interpretation of Oonduot and History* 

Am.Jouun.Sociol* May 19^6 

"The Peychololgioal PronUere of Sdciety" 19*5 

"Social Causa tion" 


"The Oonoept of Oausality in the Phyaical and Social 
Sciences." Am.Sociol.Rev. Oct« 195Ö 

"Max Weber* s Mathodology" Soo.Rea« May 195^ 

"Prom Max Weber: Essays in Sociology" 19^6 

edited by Gerth and Mills 

"The Theory of Social and Economic Organization" 
translated by Henderson and Parsons 19^7 

"On the Mathodology of the Social Sciences" 
trans» and edited by Shils and Pinoh 19^9 

"Max Weber' s Sociological Analysis" in 
An Introduction to the History of Sociology, 
edited by Barnes 19^8 

Additional References are gieren in footnotes* 


Sstcred beings exist only when they are represented as such 
in the mlnd. When we cease to belleve in them, aays Durkheim, 
it is as though they did not exist. Even those vhich have a material 
form and are given by sensible experience, depemd upon the thought 
of the >rorshippers who adK?e themj for the sacred Aaracter >hich 
makes khem objects of the calt is not given by their natural 

constitiition ; it is added to them by belief. The kangaroo is only 
an aiii^nal like all others; yet fo:^the men of the Kangaroo, it cd ntalns 
within it a principle i^hich puts it outside the coirpany of others, « 
and this principle exists only in the minds of those who believe in 
it. If these^acrec" beings, when once conceived, are 1d have no need 
of men to continue, it would be necesaary that the representations 
expressing them p>lways remain the same« B|Jt this stability is imposs- 
ible. In fact, it is in the commimal life they are formed, and this 
coramunal life is essentially intemiittent. So they necessarily partake 
of this intenaittency* ^ey a^ttain their greatest intensity at the m 
momemt when the men are assembled togetner a^d ate in immediate rela- 
tions with each other, when they all apartake of the same idea and 
the same sentiment. But when the assembly has broken up and each man 
has retumed to hls own peculiar life, tihey progressively lose their 
original energy. Being covered over little by little by the rising 4 
flood of daily experiences, they wo\ild soon fall into the unconscious 
If we did not find some means of calling them back into consciousness 
and revivifying them. If we think of them less forcefully, thqr amo\mt 
to less for us and we count less upon tnem; thqr exist to a less'e r 
degree. Ihe Services of men ate thus necessary to them. 


It is owing to this state of dependency upon tue ttiought of men, 

in vöiich the gods find themselves, that the former are able to believe 

in the efficacy of their wxtytgmwg assistance* ^e only way of renewing 
tue collective representations whicli relate to ^öfflfilÄ beings, is to 

re^per them in the very source of tne religious life, that is 
to say, in tlie assembied groups. Now the emotions aroused by these 
periodical crises through which the extemal things pass induce the 
•men who witnwss them to assenible, to see what.should be done about 
it. yffm7rt]TffyffWfft^w»y'»^y-g»^^a^«^'^^'^'fc>^8^^gf^^^ ß^'t by the ^ 

very fact of "uniting, they are mutually comf ortedj they find a remedy 
because they seek it together« The common f a^th becomes reanimated 
quite naturally in the heart of tnis recostituted group; it is bom 
again because it finds those very conditions in which it was bom in 
the first p3ace»After it has been restored it easily triumphs over 4^11 
the private doubts which may have arisen in indiviüual minds* The image 
of the sacred things regains power encugh to resist the internal or 
extemal causes which tended to weaken it* • In spite of their appareent 
failure, men can no longer believe triat the gods will die because they 
feel them living iii^heir own heart s* '"^he means em1)lo: ed to succour 
them, howsoever crude these may be, cannot appear vain, for ev ery- 
thing goes on as if they were re^lfy effective. i^^en a^e more 
confident be cause uhey feel themselves stronger; and they really 
are stronger becJSuse forces vdiich were languiJQiing are now reawakened 
in tne consciousness. 


The real reason fort he existence of the ciilts, even of those 
which are the most materlalistlc in appearance, is not to be sought 
in the acts they prescribe, but ih the internal and moral 
regeneration which these acls aid in bringing sTbout. The things 
which the worshipper glveä his gods are not the foods which he 
pia.ces upon the altars, nor ttrie blood which he lets flow from his 


vMns* it is his ithought. 

If the sacred principle is nothing more nor less than society ana personirjicd, it zno^tö. ue ]jos~^lDxe to inueipreu 
oiie rlo*-.a-i ±n ia.y ^nd. t^ocxa^ berivis. And as apatter of fact, social 
life, just like ritual. moves in a circle, On the on^and, the in- 
dividual gets from society tlie best part of himself , all that gives 
him a di st inet character and a special place aiaong othe r biings, 
his intellectual and moral culture« If we should withdraw from men 
their language, sciences, arts and mor^l belief s, they would drop to 
the rank of animals. So the characteyistic attributes of huiaan nature 
come from society. But on the other hand, society exists and lives 
only tnrougii t* individuals. If the idea o^ society were extinguished 
in individual minds and the beliefs, traditions -^nd aspirations of 4t 
the group were no longer feit and shared by the individuals, society 
would die.We can say of it what may be said of the divinity: it is 

real only in so fa»4s it has a place in human consciousnesses, and 
this place is vjhatever one we may give it. We now seo the real reason 
why the gods cannot do witnout their worshippers any more ühan these 

Can do without their gods. It is because society, of which the gods 

are only a symbolic expression, cannot do without individuals any more 
than these can d) wlhtout society. 


Here we touch the solid rock upon which all the cults are bullt 
and whlch has caused their persistence ever since hiWhn societies have 
exlsted. w^hen we see what religious rites oonsist of ^nd towards what 
they seem to tend, we demand vjl'feh astonishment hovj man have been able 
to imagine them, and especlally how they can remain so faitufully 
g^ttached to them. W hence could tlie Illusion haiore come that with 
a few grains of sand thrown to the wind, or a few drops of blood shed 
upon a rock or the stone of an altar, it ie possible to raaintain the 
life of an a^imal species or of a god? We have imdoubtedly made a step 
in adv^ce towards the Solution of trPis problem when \<e have dig- 
covered, behind these outward and apparently unreasonable movements. 
a mental mechanlsm which gives them a meaning ^n^. a moral significance. 
But we are in no way assured that this mechanism itself does not 
consist in a simple play of hallucinatory Images. We have pointed out 
the psychological process wnicn leads the believers to imagine that 
the rite causes the spiritual forces of which they have the need to 
be reboroi at>out them; but it does not follow from the fact ttiat 
this belief is psychologically explicable that it has any objective 
value. If we are to sea in the efficacy attributed to the rites 
anything more than the product of a chronic delirium with which 
h\amanity has abused itself, we have to show that tiie effect of the 
cult really is to create periddically a moral being upon wiiich we 
depend as it depends upon us. Now this belng does exist: it is 

Howsoever little importance the religious ceremonies may have, 
they put the group into action; the groups assemble to celebrate flE 
them. §o their first effect is to bring individuals together, to 
multijly relations between them and to make them more intimate with 
one another. By this very fnot, tne contents of their consciousness 


is changed. On ordinary days, it is y utilitarian and Individu^ m 
j^vocatlons which take the greater part of the attention. Everyone 
attends to his own peisonol businessj for most men, this consists 
primarily In pi satlsfylng thei exigencies of materlal life, and 
the princlpal incentlve to economic activity has always be^^n 
private interest. Of course social sentirnents could never be 
totally absent. We reraain in relationx with others: tketabits 
ideas and tendencies which education has irapressed upon us and which 
ordlnarily preside over our relations with fethers, Continus to make 
their actlon feit. But they are consta^tly combated and held in check 
by the antagonistic tendencies aroused and supported by the necessities 
of the daily struggle. They resist more or less successfully, accordi.Y%j 
to their intrinsic energy. But this enejrgy is not renewed. They llire 
upom their past, and consequently they would be used up in the course 
of time, if nothing returned to them a little of the f orce that they 
lose through these incessant conflicts and frictions. When the 
Australians, scattered xK in little groups, spend their time in hunting 
and fishing, they lose sight of ^at conceyns their clan or tribe; is 
their only thought is to catch as much gaine as possible, On feast 
days, on tiie contrary, these preoccupations a^e necessarily 
eclipsed. Being essentially profane they are excludeo from these 
sacred periods. At this time, their thought s are centered upon their 
comiT.on belief s, common traditions, the memory of their great 
ancestors, the cojlective ideal of which they are the incarnation; 
in a^ord, upon social things. Even th£ materlal interests uhich 
thesen great rellgions are designed to satisfy, concern the whol - € 
public Order and are tHerefore social, Society as a wholeas interested 

that the harvest be abundant, "tfcat the rain fall at tue rignt time 


and not excessively, ti-at tl'e animals reproduce regxilarly» So it is 
ji«i Society tnat Is In the foreground of eve^y consclousness; it doininates 
and directs all conduct. Ttiix is equivalent to saying that it is more 
living and active, and consequently more real than in profane times. 
So men do not deceive themselves when they feel at thfis time that 
there is something outside of them whidi is bÄm agaln, that there 
are forces which are reaniWtted and a lifo which reawakens. This 
renewal is in no way iiriaginary and the individuals themselves profit 
fvom it, For the sp^rk of a social being which each bears within 
him necessarily participates in this collective renovation. The 
individual soxil is regenerated too by being dipped ag-in in tke 
sourcei*rom which its life comes; 6onsequently it feils itself stronger, 
more fully maste^ of itself, less dependent upon physical necess4ties. 

The first article in svery creed is salvatf on by faith. But 
it is hard to see how a mere idea could have this efficacy» An 
ide^ is in reality only a part of ourselves; then how could it 
confer upon us powers superlor to those whch we have of our own nature? 
Howsoever rieh it mig^ t be in affective virtues, it could add nothing 
to our natural vitality; for it could only release the motive powers 
which are within us, neither creating them RgngRiggarytngxtteggLx nor 
increasing them.Prom the mere fact that we consider an object wofthy 
of being loved and soiajgjfet after, it does not follow that we feel 
stronger afterwards; it is also necessaf^ that this object set free 
energies superior to those which we ordinarlly have at our command 
and also that we have some means of making these enter into us and 
unite themselves to our interior lives. Now for that, it is not 
enough that we think of them; it is also indiäpensable tat we 

place ourselves withln thelr sphere of action, and ttiat we set 
ourselves where we may best feel their »±±jan influence; in a word, 

It is necessary that ve act, ^nd that we repeat the acts thus 
necessary every tlme we feel the need of renewlng thelr effects. 
Prom this point of vlew, it is readily seen how that group of 
regularly repeated acts which form the cult get their importance. 
In fact, whoever has re^ly practised a religion knows very well 

that it is the cJLt which gives rise to these impressions of joy, 
of interior peace, of serenity, of enthusiasm which are, for the 

bellever, an experlmental proDf of his beliefs. The cult is not 
simply a System of signs by which the faith is outw^rdly translated; 
it is a collection of the means by which this is created and recreated 

The rite O'^ sacrifice exercises a positi^^e action of the highest 
importance over the religious and mor.^l mature of the individual. In 
fact, owing to the barrier which separates the sacred f rom t he profane, 
a man cannot enter into intimate relations with sacred things except 
after riddi^g himself of all that is profane within him. He cannot 
lead a religious life of even small intensity unle's^ he commences 
by withdrawing more or less completely frora tne profane life. Thus, 
the negative cult is in one sense a means in vi-ew of an end: it is a 
condition of access to the positive cult. -^t does not confine itself 
to protecting sacred beings from vulgär contact; it acts upon the h» 
worshipper himself and modifies his condition positively. The mgn 
who has submittec himself to its prescribed Interdictions is not 
the saXfie afterwar ds« Before, he was an ordin?ry being who, for this # 
reason, had to keep at a distanxe from the leligious forces. Afterwards, 


he is on a 


equal footing with them.-tie has appropched the s^cred 

by the very act of leaving the profane; he has purlfied himself by 
thd very act of detaching himself from tne base and tiflvlal matters 
that debased his nature« Ko one can eng^ge in a religious ceremony 

of any 

irapoitance without first submitting himself to a sort of 

preliminary initiation which introduces him progressively into the ik 
sacred v7orld. 

Hubert ^d Mauss State that sacrifice is a social function because 
it coriesr.nds to social things, On the one hand, the individiaal or 
group renunciaticn of their properties nourishes social forces. 

Without doubt, society needs things which a re the stuff of: 
sgcrifice« The act of abnegation which is implied in all sacrifice, 
frequently recalls to individual consciences tne presence of collectve 
Forces. On the other hand, the individuals find this act to their 
advantage, They confer to themselves and to things they hold near, 
the entirä social force. -^hey invest with ac social authority their 
vows, oaths and marriages« They Surround with a circle of x sanctity, 
their possi^ssions, By expiation, they redeem tiemselves from social 

dia;^proval; by feMi^ levys, they raake on things which society has 
reserved for its usage, they acquire the right to enjoy tÄem. ^e 
social norm is thus maintained without danger to them or diminultion 
mfi to the group. Thus the social ftnctijn is fiilfilleä both for 
society and the individual. 


Asceticism is another ritual that serves social Interests» 
Siiffering creates exceptlonal strength.It Is by the way in which ne 
braves sriTfering that the greatness of a man iJ^ nJanif ested. He 


never rises above himself with more brilliancy than when he subdues 
his 0im nature to tne point of mak ing it follow a way contrary to 
the one it would spontaneously take» ^ this , he distinguishes him- 
self from all the other creatures who follow blindly wher^ever 
pleasure calls them; by this he makes a place apart for himself in 4k 
tiie World. Suffering is the sign that certain of the bonds attaching 
him to his profane environment are broken; saat testifies that he 
is partially freed from this environment, and, consequently, it 
is justly consiäered the instrtuaent of deliverance. So he who is thus 
delivered is not the victimfci W of a pui^ illusion when he believes 
himself Invested with4 sort of mastery over things: he real^y 
has raised nims^lf above them, uy tu« very act oi renomicing them; 
xie is.ötroiiger than nature oecau^e ne makes it auböiue. 

i'^reove I , it is by no means true that tfcis virtue has only axm 
aenthati^ yä?a1'3: the whole religious life supposes it. Sacrifices do 
not come witnout privations wnicn cost tne worshipper üear. iiiven 
11 tue rites üo nob aeiuaiiu iiiatei-iai gxits xiom iiim, ui^ reqvili'e 

nib tiiiie ana niis stren^i/n» 


±a uraer to serve his gods he must 

forget himself. The siiffering which ascetic practices impose 
is not arbltrary and sterile cruelty; it is a necessary school, 
where menform and temper themselvesand acquire the qualities of 
disint:>restedness and end\:irance without which there would be no 



Here, as elsewhere, rellgious Interests are only the symbollc 
form of social and xnoral interests. The ideal beings to whom the 
cults are addressed are not the only ones who demand of their 
followers a certain difidain for suffering: society itself is 
possible only at this price. Though exalting the strength of man, 
it is frequently rüde to individuals; it necessarily demands 
perpetual sacrifices frora them; it is constantly doing violence to 
our natijral appetites, just because it raises us above ourselves, 
If we are goinjj'to fiilfill our duties towards it, then we must 4 
be prepared to do violence to our instincts soiaetimes and to ascend 
the decline of nature when it is necessary.x So there is an asceticism 
which, being inherent in all social life, is destined to survif^ all 
the mythologies and all the äogmas; it is an integral part of all 
human culture.z At bottom, this is the asceticism which is the 
reason for the existence and ti.e justif icätion of that which has 
been taught by the religions of all times. 

The piacular rite of mourning too has exceedingly great social 
signlficance. Mourning is not the spontaneous expression of individ- 
ual emofeions. If the relations weep, lament, mutilate themselves, it 
is not bevause thfrtpT feel themselves personally affected by the 
death of their kinsman. Of course, it may be that in certain cases, 
the chagrin expressed is really feit. But it is more generally XJOX 
the case that there is no connection between the sentiments feit 
and the gestures made by the actors in the rite. If , at the very moment 
when the weepers seem the most overcome by their g« grief , some one 
speaks to them of some temporal interest, it frequently happens that 


they change their features and tone at once, ta ke on a laughing 
aipknd converse in the gayest fashion imaginable. Mouming is 
not a natural movement of private feellngs woianded by a cruel loss; 
It is a duty imposed by the group. One weeps, not simply because he 
is sad,but because he is forced to weep. It is a ritual attitude 
which he is forced to adopt out of respect for custom, but which is, 
in large measure,indep enden t of his affective State. Moreover, this 
Obligation is sanctioned by mythical or social penalties. They believe, 
for exainple, that if a relative does not moucn as is fitting, then 
the soul of the dep^ed follows his Hrsteps and kills him. In other 
cases, Society does not leave it to the religious forces to punish 
thö negligent;it intervenes itself and reprimands the guilty one, 
If a son-in-law does not render to his f ather-in-la.w the feieral 
afctentions which are due him, and if he does not make the prescribed 
incisions, t hen his tribal fathers-in -law take his wife away from 
him and give him another. Therefore, ir^brder to square himself with 
usage, a man sometimes forces Jmlex tears to flow by artificial 
means. Whence comes this Obligation? 

If mouming differs from the other forms of the positive cult, 
there is one fe^ature in which it resembles them; it too is made 

up out of collective ceremoniew which produce a State of efferves- 

cence among those who take part in them, he sentiments aroused are 

different; but the arousal is the same. So it is presumable that 

the explanation of the joyous rites is capable of being applied to ^ 

the sad rites, on condition that the terms be transposed. 


Vihen someone dies, the famlly group to which he belongt feels 
Itself lessened and, to react against this loss, it assembles. A 
common matsfortune has the sanie eff ects as the approach of a happy 
event. ; collective sentiments are ren«fed which then lead men to 

seek ofPfe another and to assemble. We have even seen this need for 
concentration affirm itself with particular energy. 51iey embrace 
one another, put their arais around one another, and press as close A 
as possible to one another. But the affective State in which tne group 
then happens to be, only reflects the circumstances through which it 
is passing. Not only do the relatives, who are affected the most directly 
bring their own personal sorrow to the assembly, but the society 
exercises a moral pressure over its nerabers, to put their sentiments 
in harraony with the Situation. To allow th«ni to reinain indifferent 
to the blow which has fallen upon it and dlmlnished It, would be Hqa 
equivalent to proclaiming that it sdoes ±i not &old the place in 
their hearts which is due it. It would be denying itself. A family 
which allows one of its m mbers to die without being wept for, shows 
by that very fact that it lacks moral \mity and cohesion; It 
abdicatesj it renounces its exlstence. An indivldual, in his tum, 
if he is strongly attached to the society cf which he Ms a 
member, feels that he is morally held to participating in its 
sorrows and its joys. Not to be interested in them would be equivalent 

to breaking the bonds unitng him to the group; it would be 
renouncing all desire for It and contradicting himself. 


The foundation of niouming is the Impression of aloss which 
the group feels when It loses one of its members, Bulphis very 
Impression results in bringt* twgwttrwrx individuals together, in 
putting them into closer relation wit . one another, in associating 
them all in the same mental State, and therefore, in disengaging 
a Sensation of comTort which compensates the original loss. Since 
they weep together, they holÄ to one another and the group is not 
weakened, in spite of the blow vdiich has fallen upon it« Of course, 
they have only S:ad emotions in common, but comtaionicating in sorrow 
is still communicating, and every commimion of mind, in whatever 
form it may be made, raises the social vitality, jZShe exceptional 
violence of the manifestations by which the common pain is necess- 
arily and obligatorily expressed even testifies to the fact that at 
this moment, the society is more alive and active than ever. In fact 
whenever the social sentiment is painfully woimded, it reacts 
with greater force than ordinarily. One never holds so close to 
his family as when it has just suffered. This surplus energy 
effaces the more c mplete^ty the effects of the interiuption 
which was feit at first, and thus dissipates the feeling of coldness 
which death alw^ys brings with it. The group feels its strength p 
gradually retuming to it; it begins to xiope and live again. 



In the celebratlon of commemoratlve rites we find the 
gestures made and the words spoken are represaitations whose 
only object can be to render the rnythl^^al past of the clan 
present to the mind, Bu t the mythology of a group is the 
System of beliefs coimnon to this group. ^iie traditlons "^^ßse 
memory It perpetuates express the way in whlch soclety represents 
man and the world; It is a moral System and a cosmology as well 
as a hlstory» So the rite serves and can sMi€ve only to maintain 
the vitality of these beliefs, to keep them from being effaced from 
memory, and in sum, to revivify the most essential elements of the 
collective consciousness, Through it the group periodically renews 
the sentiment which it has of itself and of its unity. At the same 
time, individuals are strengthed in their social natures. The 
glorious Souvenirs which are made to live agsiin before their eyes, i^ 
and with which they feel they nave a kinship, give them a feeling 
of strength and confidence, A man is surer of his faith when he 
sees to how distant a ^axik past it goes back and what great things 
it has inspired. Iliis is the charoCteristic of the ceremony which 
makes it instructive. Its tendency is to act entirely upon the mind 
and upon it alone. So if men nevertirieless believe that it acts upon 
things and that it assures the prosperity of the S: ecies, this Can 

be only qS a re,9Ction to the moral action which it exercises and whch 
is obviously the only one which Is real. 




The moral forcesthen, expressed by religious symbols are 
real forces wlth vÄiicli we raust reckon. Even when the cult aims 
at produclng no physlcal effect, but limlts itself to acting on the 
mlnd, its actlon is quite different from that of a work of art, 
The representatlons whlch It seeks to awaken and maintaln in our 
minds are not vain Images whlch correspond to nÄthing in reallty, 
and whlch we almlessly call up for the mere satlsf actlon of seeing 

them appear 

and combine before our eyes. They are necessary 


the well worklng of our moral life, for It is througja them that 
the group affirms and maintains Itself. 

It is only b* regardlng rellgion as we have that it is possible 
to See it s real slgniflcance. If we stick closely to ^ppearaJices, 
rites often give the effect of purely manual Operations. They are 
anointings, washings, meals. To consecr.ote somethlng, it is necessary 
to put it in contact wlth a source of religious energy, just as today 
a body is put in contact wlth a source of heat or eiiectrlcity to neat 
or electrify it. '%e two processes employed are not essentially diff- 
erenjb. The material manoeuvres are only the envelope 
under whlch the mental Operations are hidden. Individual 
consciousnesses are reached , disciJUned and given direction. All 
religions, even the crudest, are in a sense apiritual, for the 
powers they put in play are before all spirltual, and also 
their moral object is to act on tne moral life. Thus it is setn that 
whotever has bean done in the n^me of rellgion cannot have been done 
in vain, for itis neceßsa3"ily x,lio ^^ociety tii<^x, ola it, ona it j.ö 
xiUiacLnicy "Diiaü uas rcapea \jhe fruioö. 





Mead and James* Concepts of the Seif f 

William James conceives of the seif as composed of the "me", ^ 
which is"an empirical aggregate of things objectlvely known", and 
the "I", which is the passing thought Twhich knows them* The nucleus' 
of the "me" is "the bodily existence feit to be present at the time", 
and around this nucleus are accreted past feelings feit to belong t^ 

tl f! 

this "me", 

Ihe empirical seif or "me" in its larger sense Is constituted 

of the material seif, the social seif and the spiritual seif. A man 's 

material seif is composed of his possessions, his body, clothes, prop- 

erty, home and f artiily« He has "as many social selves as there are 

people who recognize him". His spiritual seif is his inner being with l 

which his seif is most peculiarly identified. Consideration of it means 

"we are able to think ourselves as thinkers « How this latter phenomenon 

is able to occur is the central problem of the psychology of the seif« 

James says that this phenomenon has a physiologioal origin, that it 

consists of a bodily process, a collection of peculiar motions, taking 

place for the most part within the head, or between the head and throat» 

This "me", then, is an objective person« The "I" which knows it 

is "a passing sub jective "^hougjit". This^^hought is the present section 

of the stream of consciousness "which is the vehicle of the Judgement 

of Identity". It is the owner of identity, and the title of ownership 

passes from one Thougjit to the next« Each Thought knows the Thoughts 

which went before and their objects, but cannot itself be known until 

the title of ownership has passed to the next Thought» The present. 


passing Thought is the agent of approprlating and disownlng and is 
"a vehlcle of choice as well as of Cognition*^. However, It approprialTes 
"less to Itself than to the most intimately feit part of Its present 
Objecto the body and the central adjustments which accompany the act of 


i* _ 

thlnklng in the head. These are the real nucle^ of our personal 
identitv" , 

To Mead, the basis of the seif is not physiological, but social« 
The seif only comes into existence through the social process, in the 
taking over by the individual of the attitudes of the other members of 
the social group. The first stage in thls process is taking over the 
attitudes of Individual members of the group toward himself and toward 
each other» The second stage is the Organization within the individual 
of the attitudes of the social group as a whole, or ^^hat Mead calls 
"the generalized other"» Only through individuals taking over the 
attitude of the generalized other can the universe of discourse come 
into existence, and thus the process of thinking be rendered possible» 

Language, play and the game have an important part in the inter- 
nalization of social attitudes and they precede the development of 
thougjit» Mead 's concept of the seif is an evolutionary one, with its 
first origin in the Community. Through social relationships *F the seif 
arises, and having arisen acts back upon the society in a continuously 
interacting and evolutionary relationship« MeadVs explanation for the 
phenomenon of consciousness of the seif is that througjti the social 
process the individual becomes aware of himself as an object. In fact, 
Mead believes that the individual only becomes an "l", or a subject to 
himself, "insofar as he first becomes an object to himself"» 

Mead considers the physiological interpretation of the seif 
inadequate, because the organism as a whole does not become an object 



to itself, whlch Is the characteristic dlstlnguishing the seif from 
other objects and from the body« Mead says, "the seif Is not necessarily 
involved in the llfe of the organlam, nor involved In what we term our 
sensuous experlence, and he considers that James' ^tttempt "to find the 
basis of the seif in refle#Xive affective experiences • • # does not 
account for the origin of the seif, or of the self-feeling which is 
supposed to characterize such erxperiences"» However, we might say at 
this point that while Mead explains consciousness of the seif as arising 
out of the individual^s becoming an bbject to himself, he does not 
explain why this is a characteristic peculiar only to the human organism^ 

James says that for each of us the universe is split into two halveS 
one consisting of the seif and the other of the not-self • Mead, on the 
other band, conceives of the seif as Coming into existence througji the 
internalization on the part of the individual organism of something 
which is not-self. However, he says, "I want to avoid the implication 
that the individual is taking something objective and making it subject- 
ive". ^Vhat occurs is the importation of the extemal social process 
"into the conduct of the iädividual so as to meet the Problems which 
arise". To Mead it is this function of intemalizing the social process 
which creates the seif« 

James' "me", as we have said, is "an empirical aggregate of things 
objectively known" • He says, "To have a seif I can care for , nature 
must first presentme with some ob.iect interesting enough to make me 
instinctively wish to appropriate it foriits own sake, and out of it to 
manufacture one of those material, social or spiritual selves"« To 
James the "me" and the seif are objective designations« The social seif 
is also "interest in a set of objects extemal to my thought"» The 

ob.leots most interesting to each hapian mind, first its body and second 

its frlends, may be called the "seif". 

James • seif is in a certaln sense Substantive, whereas Mead's Is 
functlonal, arising as an object through "the relation of the gesture 
of one organism to the adjustive response made to it by another 
organism". The objects perceived by the sense organs "are not in 
themselves necessarily related to a seif"» Mead says neither thought 
nor the seif can be "determined by the accesslbility to the organism 
of certain sorts of objects"» 

Mead^s "me" is the organized set of attitudes of the others in the 
social group which tKe individual himself assumes, and it is that to 
which the "I" corresponding to James' passing Thought, reacts. This 
"me" arises out of relationships between individuals within a Community, 
and it is a precöndition for the more complex social structure and for 
the "I"» It results from the social process and in tum it makes for 
a more efficient functioning of the social process. Mead's "me", the 
intemalization of the generalized other or Community attitude, corres- 
ponds ruugjily to James' "Social Seif". 

James says a man has as many social selves as there are groups 
about whose opinion he cares". Mead agrees that "a multiple personality 
is in a sense normal". We can be different selves depending on the set 
of social relations involved. However, to Mead the various selves are 
various aspects of the social structure, the structure of the seif 
belng "a reflection of the complete social process". 

James says the cruelest thing that could happen to a person would 
be tb be put in a social Situation and simply not be noticed. Mead, we 
can expect, would say that in such an instance the seif would not come 
into existence. 

Both agree that disassociation of personality comes from loss of 

memory* ^t James believes it occurs when the use of the organized 
assoclation paths of the brain Is abandoned» Mead, on the other hand, 
aays It is due to the break up of the tmitaJTy seif into Its component 
parts, each correspondlng to a dlfferent aspect of the social process« 
Here again, we notice James' emphasis on the physiological aspect and 
Mead^s on the social* 

James considers that one changes hls social seif through pursuit 


of an ideal social seif worthy of approving recognition by the highe st 
possible judging companion". Wbile "the innermost of the empirical 
selves of a man is a seif of the social sort, it yet can only find 
its adequate Spcius in an ideal world". 

Mead malles a statement very similar to this when he says, the 
only way in which we can react against the dlsapproval of the entire 
Community is by setting up a higher sort of Community which in a certain 
sense out-votes the one we find"« However, here the analogy between 
James* social seif and Mead 's "me" breaKs down, for it would be 
Mead 's "I" which would make the appeal to the higher Community. 

James' "I", as we have already said, is the passing Thought, the 
present section of the stream of consciousnesst This Thought is a 
phenomenal event in time, and is itself the Thinker. This latter state- 
ment, James says, is all that need be known for the piirposes of psych- 
ology» Vllhatever further meaning this Thought has lies in the total 

meaning of the universe» This I discovers its identity as it surveys 
the procession of past passing Thoughts» Personality, James says, 
"implies the incessant presence of two elements, an objective person, 
known by a passing subjective Thought and recognized as continulng 
in time"» The empirical person is the "me", and "the real, present, 
onlooking, remembering, judging thought" is the "I"» 

Mead, we have seen, belleves a person can only become a subject 
to himself , an "I", after he had flrst become an object to hlmself, 
a "me"» James gives no explanation for the orlgln of the passing Thoixght 
but Mead says the seif which reflects arises when "the conversation of 
gestures is taken over Into the conduct of the Indlvldual form • 
Mead^s "me", ^s we have seen, Is the internallzation of the attltudes 
of the social group* His "I", like James' passing Ttiought, is what is 
aware of and reacts to the "me". The "I" responds to the "me" througji 
the conversation of gestures of v/hich thinking consists» ^ile the 
"me" serves the Community by taking over its attitudes, the "I" 
asserts itself by reacting to the Community and changing ±t. Mead says 
the seif is in essence a social process going on between these two 
different phases, both of which are necessary to the füllest expression 
of the seif« 

The action of the "I", Mead says, always contains a novel and 
uncertain element* The "movement into the future" is the step of the 
"I", and it is not given in the "me". 

Like James* passing Thought, Mead 's "I" of one moment "is present 
in the 'me ' of the next", but one can never tum round quick enough 

to catch it. James says when he does succeed in catching his 1 , 
all he can discover is a bodily activity» 

Mead says it is because of the "I" that "we are never fully aware 
of what we are". The "I" ofky gets into awareness after one has acted. 
In the same manner, James' present Thought is the darkest link in the 
chain of the stream of consciousness'*« It may feel its own immediate 
existence • • • but nothing can be known about it tili it be dead and go 



Mead 's "I" arises in an evolutionary process. Play, the game and 

language ppecede the development of the mind. Through these actlvlties 
the attitudes of the others as Individuais and as a social group 
becomes intemalized and the Individual becomes an object to himself • 
The organized attitudes of the social group as a whole within the in- 

it II 

dividual constitute his me • The me , the conventionalized attitudes 


of others taken into the seif, supply the form of the I , and glves 
It a vehicle with which to work« The individual 's response to that 

"me" is his "I", In the response of the "I" to the "me" the mind 
comes into play. All the factors continually interact furthering the 
mutual development of all, so that as society becomes more organized, 
its members become more individualized« 

James says the feeling of the "I" comes from the similarity and 
continuity it discovers in reviewing the past sections of the stream 
of consciousness. The sense of our -personal identitv • • • is exactlv 
like anv one of our other perceptions of sameness among phenomena » 
I t is a conclusion grounded on the resemblance in a fiindamental respect« 
or on the continuity before the mind of the lohenomena com-pared" > 

He further says that where the resemblance and continuity of past 
Segments of consciousness are no longer feit, the sense of personal 
identity disappears. Mead agrees that one can partially separate one 's 
seif from an experience "so that it is no longer the experience of the 
individual in question". 

James and Mead are both concerned with the possible selves of a 
person* James says our thougjit decides which of its Potential selves it 
will put into actuality, and that normally feelings of inferiority or 
self-satisf action spring from the failure or success of this seif • To 
this extent, "our seif -feeling is within our power"» Mead, on the other 
hand, conceives of the potential selves as things ?^ose natures we never 
quite know and that inferiority complexes are the adjustment to the 

frustratlon of those selves. The "I" Is related to what Is actuall x 
going on. Janes would Drobably Call this the seif which is chosen, but 
Mead would not concur, since he believes there is always an impredlctable 
element in the "!"• It is not so much the seif chosen as the seif which 
chooses. Nevertheless, this seif is a social seif, and finds its real- 
ization in social relations. It needs to be suparior in some way in 
Order to preserve Itself , and genuine superiority "rests on the Perform- 
ance of definite functions". 

Thought assumes a more central position in Mead than in James« 
James says consciousness is "more than cognitive", whereas Mead says, 
"the Essence of the seif • . • is cognitive, and lies in the internalized 
conversation of gestures"* James says all that we can know is that when 
the brain acts a thought occurs« Mead, with his evolutiorlary vie^v, be- 
lieves that "the mind is nothing but the importation of this external 
social process into the conduct of the individual so as to meet the 
Problems that arlse". Language and the conversation of gestures in 
their barest form arei, as v/e have said, prior to thought» "A symbol , 
Mead says, "is nothing but a Stimulus v/hose response is given in advance" 
"B's" response to "A" is a synbol to "A" to change« With the development 
of the evolutionary social process, symbols become significant and the 
possibilities of deterraination by the individual enters in. If the 
response is "given in terms of an attitude utilized for the further 
control of action", it is a significant symbol» The seif is a process 
in which the individmal is continuously adjusting himself in advance to 
the Situation to which he belongs and reacting back on it. Thus in the 
evolutionary, interacting relationship of society, the seif and thought, 
each element works to further the development and increased complexity 
of each of the other elements. 


To sTJin up, then, James conceives of the seif as havlng an organic 
basis« Mead, on the other hand, belleves the physical organism is a 
necessary but not a sufflclent condition for the seif« James • "me" is 
an objective aggregate of things, whereas I^ad's is the internalization 
of the attitudes of the social group. Mead's "l" evolves out of the 
social process and is the response of the indlvidual to his"me"» 
James* "I" is simply that which knows its me« The function of thinking 
and language play a much more Import ant part in Mead's concept than they 
do in James'« To Mead the seif is distinguished from the organism in 
that the seif is characterized by being a member of a rational 

t, The Mechanlsm of the Sentlments. Adam Smith 

As we have no immedlate experlence of what other 
men feel, w© can form no Idea of the manner In whlch they are 
affected, bfit by concleving what we ourselves should feel in a 
slmilar Situation, Our sjiises cannot carry us beyond our own 
peraon, and it ia by the imaglnation only that we can form any 
conception of what are the aensations of othera. Our imagina- 
tlon repreaenta to ua what would be our aensations were we in 
their place, Iti every passion^hich the mind ia auaceptible, 
the emotions of the byatander alwaya correapond to what, by 
brinplng the caae home to himself , he imaginea should be the 
sentlmenta of the object of his aympathy. l Sympathy, here, 
denotes, our fellow-feeling wlth any pasaion whatever.) 

The paaaions, upon some oacaslons, may seem to be 
transfused from one man to another, instantaneously, and ant»- 
cedent to any knowledge of what exclted them in JJe person 
principally concerned. Thia, however, doea not hold unlversally,, 
or with retard to every paasion. There are some P?"^»?» "J^ 
whlch the expreaaiona exclte no sort of aympathy, but, before 
we are acqSlnted with what 6*ve occaslon to them. senre rather 
lo ilsgSsnnd provoke ua agalnst them. The fu'^i»«« ^^^'i°^,, 
of an angry man ia more likely to exaaperate u? agalnst himself 
than agalnst hia enemies. We are, as yet, «nf^^^^^f j"J^^* 
pr??ocltion, but we plainly see the violence to whlch l^Js f Jf^T 
saries are 4xpoaed. We readily, therefore, sympathize with their 
fear or reaentment. We have attained a general ^J®» °J„^^^ J|°:__ 
tlma^^'bad fortune. The general idea of bad or good fortune creates 
coSceS fo? tSe peraon Sho haa met with it but the general idea 
of provocation excites no aympathy with the anger of the man 
provoked. We are averae to enter into fthls paaaion, at leaat un- 
til informed of ita cauae. 

Even our sympathy with the grief or joy of another, 
before we are informed of the cauae of «Ither, Is alwayj extreme- 
IT imperfect. Our fellow-feeling is not c*»8^?^^a^Ü'^*J:l„°^ 
qJeatSn, " what has befallen your; is »nswered. Sjbpathy, 
tttArefore. doea not arlse so much from a viewing of the paaaion 
as JJoHhat ol the Situation which excitea it. We aometimea 
?Jelfor another, a jftaion of which he himself ia or aeems to b« 
f^SgeJ^eHncap^ble, because when we put ourselves in hia case, 
that Passion arises in our breast from the imaglnatlon, though 
irdoes not in hl s, from the reality. We blush ^o^^^he impMent 
who have no sense of their rudeness. We f«®! ^ngulsh for tto 
inaane whose loas of reason makes them insensible to their own 
i?;SJ. wSayS^thlze even wlth the dead from whlch aympathy they 
can gain no consolatlon. 

But whatever may be the cause of sympathy, or however 
It may be exclted, nothing pleasea ua more than *« obaerv* in 
other men a fellow-feeling wlth all the emotions of our own . 
breaat nor are we ever ao much ahocked aa by th^ appearancetof 
tScoAt?a?y. Sympathy enlivens joy and alleviates grlef bj^ in- 
slJu^tln^ inio tS heaJt almost the only agreeable Sensation which 
It is at that tlme capable of receiving. 


Accordlngly, we are more anxlous to communlcate to our 
frlends our dlsagreeable than our agreeable pÄSslons. We are not 
half as anxloua that our frlends should adopt our frlendslilps, 

as that they sould enter into our resentments, We are not half 
so angry wlth them for not entering Into our gratltude as for not 
sympathlzlng wlth our resentment, We lose all patlence If they 
seem indifferent to the injurles done to ua. The agreeable 
passlons of love and Joy •am satlsfy the heart wlthout any auxlll- 
ary pleasures, the bitter and painful emotlona of grlef and re- 
sentment strongly requlre the heallng consolatlon of sympathy. 

Ab the person who is prlncipally Interested in any 
eiient is pleased wlth our sympathy, and hurt by the want of It, 
so we, too, seem to be pleased when we are able to sympathlze 
wlth hlm and to be hurt when we are unable to do so. 

Where the original passlons of the person prlncipally 

concemed are in perfect concord wlth the sympathiMC emotlona 

of the spectator, ^/necesaarlly appear to the latter Juat and 

proper and sultable to thelr objects; and on the contrary, when, 

upon bringing the case home to hlmself , he finde that they €a not 

colnclde wlth what he feela, they neceasarlly appear to hlm unjust 

and Improper and unsuitable to the causes whlch excite them* To 

approve of the passlons of another, therefore, as sultable to 

thelr objects, is the same thlng as to observe that we entlrely 

sympathlze wlth them, and not to approve of them as such, is the 

same thlng as to observe that we do not entlrely sympathlze wlth 


There are, Indeed, some cases in whlch we seem to approve 

wlthout any sympathy or correspondence of sentlments 

But thls 


affords no contradiction to the above statement for It may be 
that we may often approve of a Jest, though we ourselves do not 
laugh because, perhaps, we are in a grave hximour. 

We judge the proprlety or Improprlety of the sentlmenta 
of another person by their correspondence or dlsagreement wlth 
our own. Your Judgments in matters of speculatlonwp, your sentl- 
menta in matters of tastepay be quite tlu opposlte mine, Since 
these are Impersonal matters, I can easily overlook thls Opposi- 
tion t±. But if you have either no fellow-feeling for the mis- 
fortunes I have met with, or none that bear any proportion to 
the grief that distrawts me, we can no longer converse upon 
these subjects. 

In all such cases, that there may be some correspond- 
ence of sentiments between the spectator and the person princi- 
pally concerned, the ppectfttor must endeavor to put himself in 
the Situation of the other. But since, not belng; the other, 
he cannot fully do this, and since the person principally con- 
cerned is aware of this^ insurmountable obstacle, the latter, 

longing for that relief which nothing can give him but the 

complete concord of the affections §t the spectator, lowers his 

passlon to that pitch which the spectator aam attaln. The 

prlncipal person must thus place himself in the Situation of 

the spectator. 

Seeing himself with the comparative coolness which 

other s see him, led to imaglne how he would be affected were he 

only a spectator, he diminishes the violence of his passion. 


ls"J/^ Mande^hrille ' 8 psychologlcal pesslmlsm: society 
functlons when eoclety Is selflsh( a Stimulus). 

Mandej^vllle demonstrates that neither the friendly 


qualitles and klnd affectlons that are natural to man, nor the 
real virtues he Is capable of acqulring by reason and self-deniar, 
are the foundation of aoclety. But that whlch we call evll, moral 
and natural, is the grand principle that makes us sociable crea- 
tures, is the solid basis and support of all occupations without 
exception. There we must look for the true origin af all arts 
and sciences, The moment evil ceases, society is necessarily 
spoiled, if not totally dissolved. 

The imaginary notions that men may be virtuous 
without self-denial are a vast inlet to hypocrisy, which being 
once made habitual, we muat not only deceive others, but likewise 
become altogether unknown to ourselves. It is pride that con- 
quers the soldier's fear, vanity, that set Cicero on the way 
to be^oming an outstanding magistrate. The kind disposition 
and great affection ke have for our speißies is our selfish 

love of Company. 

Man loves Company, as he does everything eise for 

his own sake. There are no friendships or civilitles that are 
not reciprocal. In all meetings for diver sion, every member 
that asslsts at them has his own ends. A man who was the oracle 
of his Company, was very constant and quite uneasy at any thing 
that hindered him from Coming at the appointed hour, but as 
soon as another came fprth to compete wlth his superiority, he 
left the society altogether. There are people who are incapable 
of holding andtx aspoo^t and yet mallcious enough to take de- 
light±x in hearing others wrangle, and though they never con- 


cern themselvea in the controvers«xy , would thlnk a Company 
Inslpld where they could not have that dlverslott. A good house, 
rieh furnlture, horses, dogs, ancestors, relations, beauty, 
strengbb, excellency in any thing wliatever, vlces as well aa 
virtues, may all be accesaory to make men long for aociety in 
hopes that what they value themaelvea upon, will at one tlme 
or other become the theme of the dlacourse and give them an 
Inward aatisfaction. Even the most pollte people in the world, 
glve no pleaaure to othera that is not repaid to their aelf-love 
and doea not at laat center in themselvea, let them v;lnd It and 
turn it as they will« But the plaineat demonstration that in 
all Clubs a.iö socletles of converaable people, everybody haa 
the greatest consideration for himaelf , is that the disinterested, 
who rather overpays than wranglea, the good-humored who ia 
never waapiah nor qulckly offended, the eaay and indolent who 
hates diaputes and never talka for trlumph, ia everywhere the 
darling of the Company, whereas the man of sense and knowledge 
who will not be imposed upon nor talked out of his reason,, the 
man of genijjlus and spirit that can say sharp and witty things, 
though he never laahea but what deserves it, the man of honor 
who neither gives nor tickes af front, may be esteemed, but is 
aeldom ao well beloved aa a weaker man leaa accompliahed« 

Aa in these inatances, the friendly qualitiea arlae 
from our contriving perpetually our own aatiafaction, 30 on 
other occaaiona they proceed from the natural timidity of man 
and the aolicitoua care he takea of himaelf. 

When French, Sngliah and Dutch meet in China,, 
being all Europeans, They look upon one another as countrymen, 
and if no paaaion interferea, will feel a natural propenalty 


to love one another. Two men that are at enmlty, If they are 
forced to travel together, will eften lay by thelr anlmosltles, 
especlally if the road is unsafe. 

The sociableness of man arlaes only from these two 
thlnßs — the cnultllpliclty of hls desires and the contlnual 
Opposition he meets with in his endeavors to gratify them. A 
garden of Eden would not halre raised large societies. Where a 
man has everything he desires and nothing to vex or disturb 
him, there is nothing that can be added to his happinesa, and it 
is impossible to name a trade, art, science, dignity, ob employ- 
ment that would not be superfluous in such a blessed state. 

No societies could bave sprung from the amiable 
virtues and loving qualities of man, but on the contrary, all 
of them must have had their origin from his wants, his imper- 
fections, his variety of appetltes, 

Did not man need protection from the cold and damp 
alr, he would not have invented clothes, nor houses to say 
nothing of jewela and fine furnlture. Did he not soon tlre of 
Walking afoot, who would have thought of coaches and who would 
have ventured on a horse's back? 

Millions are employed in the endeavor to supply 
eaoh other's lust and vanlty. What a huslle is there to be 
made in the world before a fftne scarlet cloth can be produced, 
what multipllcity of trades must be employedl 

Man,as he is a fearful animal, naturally not rapa- 
clous, loves peace and qulet and he would never fight if nobody 
offended him and he could have what he flghts for wlthout it. 

Tö thls fearful dispoaitlon and the averslon he has to his 

. . ^ A or^A owln« all the various projects and forma 
belüg dlsturbed, are owing aj.x 


of go^ernment. 

It Is then to man's selflshneas that Mande^vllle 
ascrlbes the rlse of societles, the orlgln and development of 

Industries and the riae of collectivitles governed by lawg« 

Wit and Irony as Manlfestatlons of Creative Reason -- 


Reason recelves more advantage. In the man, from the 
easy and familiär way she is handled by wlt, than from the usual 
stiff adherence to a particular opinion» Neither the written 
treatises of the learned, nor the set discourses of the elo- 
quent, are able of themselves to teach the use of reason. It is 
the habit alone of reasoning which can make a reasoner» And 
m^n can never be better invited to the habit than when they find 
pleasure in it. A freedom of raillery, a liberty ( in decent 
language) to question everything, and an allowance of unravelling 
or refuting and argument, without offenoe to the arguer, are the 
only terms which can render speculative conversations any way 
agreeable. For they have been rendered burdensome to mankind 
by the strictneia of the laws prescribed to them and by the 
prevailing pedantry and bigotry of those who relgn in them 
and assume themselves to be dictators InJ^ these provinces. 

"Semper ego auditor tantiam?" is as natural a caae 
of complaint in divlnity, in morals and in philosophy, as it 
was of old in the satirist's (Juvenal) poetry. Vicissitude 
is a mighty law of discourse and mightily Ipnged for by man- 
kind« In matter of reason, more is done in a minute or two,. 
by way of question and reply than by a continued discourse of 
whole hours. Orations are fit only to move the passions; the 



power of declamatlons la to terrlfy, exalt, ravlsh or dellght, 
rather than satlsfy or Instruct« Men had rather reason upon trl- 
fles , so they may reason freely and wlthout the Imposltlon 
of authorlty, than on the most useful and best subjects In the 
World — where they are held under restraint and fear. The 
natural free spirlts of ingenlous men, if imprisoned, will find 
out other xxjpi than natural ways of motlon to relleve themselves 
in their constraint and whether it be in burlesque, mimlcry or 
buffoonery, they will be glad at any rate to vent themselves and 
be revenged on their constrainers« 

If men are forbidden to speak their minds seriously 
on certain subjects, they will do it ironically. If they are 
forbidden to speak at all upon such subjects, or If they find 
it really dangerous to do «o, they will redouble their disguise, 
involve themselves in mysteriousness and talk so as hardly to be 
understood. And thus raillery itt brought more into fashion 
and xnins into an extreme« 

Without wit and humour, reason can hardly have 
it*s proof* The majesterial nolse and high strain of the ped- 
agogue commands reverence and awe* It is of admirable use to 
keep understandings at a distance and out of reach. The other 
manner, on the contrary, gives the fairest hold and allows an 
antagonist to use his füll strength« 

Irony makes for better criticism« It is an 
ingenious way of questioning unquestioned opinions and exposing 
the ridicule of thlngs. There is no mighty danger as aome are 
apt to imagine from the flerce prosecutors of superstition« 
Wh??tever savages they may appear to be in philosophy, they are^ 
in tkeir common capacity, as civil persona as one can wish« 



Their free communicatlng of their prlnclples may wltness for them. 
It Is the height of soclableness to be friendly and tlius commxinl- 


The reason, perhaps, v7hy men of wlt dellght so much 

to espouse Systems so utterly opposed to more familiär and un- 
satlsfactory Systems Is not that they are so well satlsfled with 
thei«*" former, but the better to oppose the latter. They imaglne 
that by thls general skeptlcism which they would Introduce , they 
shall better deal with the dogmatic splrit which prevails. Änd 
when they have accustomed men to hear contradiction in the man, 
it may be safer { they conclude) to argue separat ely upon 
certain nice points. From t'iis we can understand why the spirit 
of raillery prevails. 


Napoleon as the f irst Totalitarlan Regime 

Napoleon was the fulf illment of the French hopes for peace and 
stability, His regime could be regarded as the first despotic regime 
which sought to consolidate the political forces of France, 

The government which Napoleon flouted in 1797 consisted of an 
executive of five Directors appointed by a legislative body of two houses, 
a Council of Ancients, and a Council of Five Hundred. This government 
known as the Directory, was constantly assailed either by the Jacobins 
or by the Honarchists and it was repeatedly in danger of being overthrov/n • 
Following the treaty of Campo Formio, Napoleon toyed with the notion of 
seizing power; but as the tirae did not appear ripe, he embarked upon war 
campaigns which he successfully executed. The lightning-like swiftness 
with \7hich he won his victories put his name oii the lips of every Frenchman. 

Napoleon and his conspirators managed (Nov. 9,1799) to get a 
resolution passed to transfer the sessions of both Councils to St. 
Cloud and this gave General Lonaparte command of the troops that were 
to Protect the Councils. The coup almost failed but by sheer Providence 
Napoleon» s plans succeeded. His brother Lucien , who v/as President of 
the Council , saved the day. He harangued the troops outside and 
finally succeeded in having them drive the members of the Council out 
of the hall. That evening a group of conspirators from both houses 
met and voted the abolition of the Directory, appointed three provisional 
Councils ( Napoleon, Sieyes, and Roger Ducos) to exercise the executive 
power, and adjourned the sessions of the tv/o houses for a period of 
four months. Thus v;as achieved the coup d'etat which raised Napoleon 
to power in Nov. 9-10, 1799. There was no uprising in Paris for the 
people approved /ferh^ the change. 

Under his suijf%vision, a new Constitution was hastily drav/n 

up and published in Dec. 1799 and adopted by a plebiscite. 

The governifient för'which it provided was still republioan 
in name, but raonarcMcal in fact . The executive pov/er was 
vested in three Consuls to be elected for ten years, but the 
First Consul Napoleon Bonaparte exercised the real pov/er. Two 
Chambers , the Tribunate and the Legislative i^ody, constituted 
the legisjbure, but had no pov/er to talce the initiative. 
No bill could be discussed or voted that had not been drav/n 
up and submitted by the First Consul. Even after a bill was 
voted it did not go into force until it v/as proinulgated by 
the First Consul.. V/hile acknowledging that the people are the 
source of power, Napoleon erabodied in himself their professed 
soverignity. As despotic pov/er v/as essential to his purposes, 
he bridled the press, stamped out political debate, and 
carefully freed hiinself from political checks. Espionage \xi\ 
and the secret police becarae the farniliar agencies of his 

governnient . 

Although Napoleon discarded the idea of liberty, he 
stariiped out the bands of brigands v/ho were terrorizing many 
districts of France, brought an end to the civil v/ar in the 
Vendee, which had long vexed the revolutionary governments, 
and propitiated the monarchists and the Roman Catholic Church 
by permitting many nobles and priests to return to France. 
Thus Napoleon repaired the major divisions in French society 
caused by the Revolution. 

The period also sav/ the completion of the Civil Code 
or Code Napoleon, an orderly aHdtxQLKdtstKix and systematic array 
of French laws v/hich came to be introduced in many parts of 

The Empire of Ilapoleon v/as establlsJied exclusively by . 
force and maintained by force. Ruthless police and spy Systems 
which reached into every corner of his domain reported to 
Napoleon on what the people v/ere doing and saying. He hov/ever, 
had the bright side of his conquests. V/here ever his armies 
v/ent they destroyed the acciimulation of old institutions, 
leveled feudalism and class privilege, abolished guilds, and 
inaugurated far-reaching social reforms. 

His progressive Code Napoleon was forced on all his conq.uered 
subjects. This was indeed the period of the first totalitarian 
regime • 

The Political Elite In a Democracy 

The Import ant question v/hich has baffled many great thinkers 
up to the present iö whether it is possible to create a. political 
elite in a Democracy» By democracy here, we raean the form of 
democratic Institution v/hich exists in V7estern Europe and the 
United States of ivmerica. In modern times we could correctly ^^ 
that the American democratic Institution epitomises the Western 
concept of a democracy • Now, the question could be asked in 
another way« Is it possible to create a political elite under 
a Capitalist regime like the United States of America? 
The precise answer to this question could not be found, but 
De Toqueville and many political sociolgists have come to one 
conclusion^ that under the present circumstances the possibility 
of creating a political elite in a capitalist regiiae is far 
remote. On the basis of his long research and study De Toqueville 
found out that only in the leftist , radical or socialist regimes 
could the government evolve a political elite that could steer 
and control the masses that it dominates. 

The issue makes a close comparison of the governmental 
machinery of the tv/o great pov/ers of our era imperative - that 
of the United States , the symbol of Capitalism and the 
Soviet Union , the syiabol of Socialism» 

Speaking for Aiaerica, '.;right Hills believes that '' the 
more recent members of the political elite are likely to have 
reached their position through appointments rather than elections." 
He also observes thafsince the Civil War , the typical member 
of the political elite has spent more years working outside of 
politics than in it." In short V/right Hills as well as many 
others expose the fact that the bureaucracy in the American 


» ■ *,*■ •*• 

governrnent to some extent is based on patronage and incorporates 
v/itihin its rank and file men v/ho are neither professional party 
politicians nor political bureauorats. '' As a group the political 
Outsiders v/ho occupy the executive comiiand posts and form the 
political directorate are legal , managerial , and financial 
members of the corporate rieh • " ''"Mills continues to say 
that -'the United States has never and does not now have a 
genuine civil service, in the fundaraental sense of a reliable 
civil Service career, or of an independent bureaucracy effectively 
above political party pressure, *' 

The fact that Araerica is anti-intellectual is v/ell 
known to prominent visitors fron Europe and other parts of the 
World* The scourge of McCarthyisn on intelligent Professors and 
school teachers goes to emphacize this basic belief» 
Mills also.; ref lects that ''in a society that values money , 
as the foremost guage of caliber, no truly independent 
Civil Service can be built • '' 

Turning to Soviet Socialism and all its attendant 
criticisms, the masterminds of the American governrnent have 
their private conceptions of the many T)ossibilities of the 
System. In the "Conf idential Briefing papers prepared for the 
Committee for Economic Development," and captioned ^r Soviet 
Progress Vs American Enterprise, '' there is a Statement on the 
Soviet Union on the 74th. page v/hich reads thus : "There has 
been much written and spoken about the educational System IrL 

the Soviet Union There is a clear-cut evidence 

that the Scientific , technical, and even {in some respects) 

the cultural training that tJie students are given in their 
good high schools exceeds anything but the very best that 
schools here provide. In College the students are required to 
v/ork harder, so far as I can teil, and consequently are better 
trained. The Soviet high school and University education is 
more like the rigorous European System than ours* Kowever, 
unlike V/estern Europe, where higher education is accessible 
only to a select few, Russian higher education is accessible 
to'.yery large numb^rs of students.'' 

In conclusion therefore, De Tocqueville may be right 
in assuming that it is impossible to create a political elite 
in a capitalist regime. 

Perspective of Despotism Negative and Positive phenomena 

All revolutions exist as a dialectical sequence of despotism 
and despotism is the degradation of the principle of monarchy. 
According to Montesquieu, it is the indispensible ingredient 
in the control of large Empires • It is based on the principle 
of obedience through fear which is most paralyzing , coupled 
with the arbitrary rule and control of government by one man. 
The despot may delegate pov/er to his ministers v/ho in turn 
delegate pov^er to lesser officials, and then on through the 
various strata of the society» Despotiepower depends on extreme 


Despotie regimes v/ill forbid ijaoxiKTOGK common meals , 
common clubs etc. They v/ould seek to alienate one Citizen 
or national against the other and v/ould insist on a minist ry 
of Information and Propaganda . 

In the Hydraulic Agricultural states of the Oriental 
despot s, there are no checks or Constitutional safeguards. 
This means total pov/er and complete subjugation of the population. 
Other characteristics of oriental despotism are :- 
!• Autocratic tendencies 
2. Mar^ical and mythical Symbols from which certain social 

patterns develop 

3. No revolt against the ruler by the bureaucracy 

4. Strict obedience in all matters. 

5i Ranking officers made up of military as v/ell as lesser 

Some positive elements of the llanagerial A^ricultural 

Despotism are:- 

(a) Transformation of Nature by man , 

(b) A. Standing Array for defence, 

(c) Intensified cultivation and co-operation — construction, 
draining, dredging,etc. 

In the old world the despot controlled society without 
the use of an army; but in the modern v/orld control is by 
the technological classes supported hy the aririy. 

In the old v/orld , the traditional morale, the King, 
his magic character and divinity v/as unquestionable and his imraediate 
subordinates (forming the bureaucracy ) could not just revolt 
against their ruler. The new despotism is bourgeois, and it is 
made up of strong financial interests, of capitalists, bankers 
v;ho control and support the technicians and the military 
for the perpetuation of the Status quo. 

The new despotism will make war if it is profitable to its 
cause and v/ould stifle any government or Institution that is 
not condusive to its Ideals . 

A benevolent despot could sometimes effect many 
progressive developments in a nation • 

X. QfTffrt? PT*-"^^^<» 

SoaQäal l« a unlwraal ph«BW'»nrm. « l« » »ubjeotlv. a« wll 
•« an objMtlw ptanoMnon «id thu. It l« of th» outeont ij«p<irt«Be« to 
cc«.ld«- both »«peata. It le . «ubjectlv. pbmionmioa -h,n it tekea place 
ii, th. pivohologlo.1 üAka-up of an lndlvldu.1 or a groop» It bwom«. 
an obj.«tlw ph.non.non wh.n «oandal l« uwd l^ an Indlvldual 
or a group aiain.t anoth.r IndlTldual or anoth«r group and oan b. «b- 
J« da^crlbcd. In m«y oa«. It Is uMd with Intention» whieh ge 
b«yond th. d.-i« to Tvwmli It la found In aooUl fUlda «ueh a« th. 
politlwil and rallflou«, »« a iBatt.r of faot. In aU domaln.. W. will 
llalt our«.lwa to th. polltiwl Institution« and touoh upon on. or two«iouB anpecta, by pr.wnting and an*ly«ing «vwal o«».. which hav. 

baan oon8i'i.r.d acandelous. 

ündoubt«lly, all»., th. probUm la extreraely broad and ehang.. 
fro» day to day, fror. «>ol.ty to aool.ty, e.rtain fonaa of «oandal n«y 
not appaar 8«»n4alou« today, «hll. othwa upon whioh I do not propo.. to 
touahp may b. v.ry .«mdalou«. It la alao ii....«iy to polnt out that 
today th. • of ae«»dal, or th. t«na - wandal - in oartaln coun- 
trl«. ia Ju»t a in.r. werd, wlthoat algnlfloana. attaehad to lt. 
Othar .««»pta -ea to .xpr..« th. probla. battwi for Inatana., pr.- 
Judio.» dlaarljBination, oorruptioo, appaar to hav. a «ld«r tiwi», It 
HMB8 that thM. t«»a aroua. tha attantioa of propl. »or. auocarfully 
or ara abla to apaak batt« to th. ralnd« of paoplo. 

At mny ratHy \m glv« to th« oone«pt of sonndal li» broad 
mftnlng, «c that All tht praetlo»» havlng «eand&lou» f»«tiir#», not 
neotÄfimrll;)^ Ju«t trotie or crlTnlnal cme«, raay b0 Includikl. 

For thi puppo»«» of thls st\idy, srreml catit« will h^ seldot- 
«d. At oiHi tlBi or anotteri th^y vwiro viöw«d as «xBRiplary scandftl«, «nd 
«r# «tili brand^d a« «ueh whta the tlüs« in opportun« to do so. Tho!» 
seandala have b@en oho^n at ptrloda conald«red more revolutlooary than 
othar«, du* to tha faot that thay v?ara spla»had with blood, provokad in 
othar Word« hy ▼lolanoa. Thay di»?«olvad tha axlsting social cohaalo« and 
thus brok« the social and mantal aouilibrltsm of )fuch aociatlasi social 
ttd mental equtllbrlum aalnainad by a eertein klnd of ordor of polltlcal 
md fioclal inatitutlons, by a »at of rulea md ragulatloos, custsMi or 
morasi tha whola earrled hy a sat of accaptad practloas and lo^bolsf 
6a4» for ln«tance balng raplaced by tha csanlöeient laadar of today, and 
tha huojan »ind and äff ort by th© isaohlna. 

Tha paper la divldad into four chaptar«, Tha flrat intands 
to iaal with tc*?ndal and to analyza tha concapt of iic«ndal, This 
naoassitatad to eonatruct tha flrst chaptar so aa to form tha thaoratieal 
frasaswork for th© rai^ining olmptars« 

In tha aaoond oh&ptar an inaurslon Into tha Court of Varaalllaa 
la Had», whara all our att^^ntion la foousad on Maria-Antoinatte, by anal- 
ysiag a faw facta s^^a raportad by hlstorlana« Tha raaaoci for ohooalng thia 
pariod la asq^lalnad by tha fast that It waa acmaldarad aa tha last daya 
of a kind of ordar, tha 8o<-eallad Old HaglM. By tha ravolution whiah 


it und#TVtnt, It gav« birth to a n«fW klnd of ordUir of thing« in Fptnoh 


third ohapter bring» into light th# Csariat eourt and tha 

dMdfi &nd mov«ui«nt» of K«»putin, a ?«K-proolaiiaad proplwt, who tw 
ieveral ymrs dir«ct#d tha dsatinla» of Russia^ IIa la ummllsr ragardad 
aa ona of tha cauaaa of tha dlsappaarmioa of tha Caariat ragtna^ or to 
hava hantanedt at laaati tha Bolahavik revolution* 

In tba laat ohaptar wa ahöuld llka to analyaa ßora oloaaly 
tha tarm - ravolutlo» ^ as wall aa ^n^r into sociologicel considara- 
tionjs of oartain worda uaad fpaqiaantl^i/, suoh aa, liberty and aquality, 
Tvo actml eaaaa of saandal will ba ccmaidarad, ona raligio-<liaarimina- 
tory (tarmi^atad), and am raaant and quita gantla cootrovaray and 

Ittttla of Word» on tha Artarlcan polltical »wnB» 


a thaolc^ioan, and sooiologlat has ievotad a lifati» of atudy to thia 
anlgTÄ of htrnaii axlatanea whieh fwsandal eonatltutaa« ?4any anawara 

baan praaantadi 

than othar»! nam «ara appaalim thmn 

intalligiblai aacia laaa dasparata than othiarai 

eonaidarad ri^t. 

othara wroiig) aoEia eonaidarad trjia othara fklaa. Oftan tha problam 
haa baan ao ahroudad in olooda of non-aanslaal draama» in hopa that 
hmmxi aotion would aolva Iht problan or that an tha otbar 'iand| contass- 
plation ia tha only Rouroa at diaoovaring tha truth» that atudanta of 
tha nattar apand tnora tiM diaaarding thaaa yarioua thaorlaa than aaak«« 
ing tlia roeta of tha probla»« It is than that cma undaratanda that 

th# Socratlo Irony vas rsthsr ferlou«, though it goe« without nayinf 
that Soermto«) ^^x^t ^« rathtr «au9#d at tiRi»8 by hl« f«llov oitls#n*0 



n. T^fQirf^IrSfrl Pff^^^UffiB^ 

Seandal and Hypocriiy 

SoeT«n Kl«rk«i5»ard, in ordmr to d«flnt »««ndÄl eotitymstt 

It with anoth«r phenomenoo of the samt dotaain, tmsmly, hypocrlsry,!br 

both phönomena oorr^sponi^ a« Tor inatanoi, tht outvmrdi «Mming vfiraua 

ixiuard bolng: phi»nois«na vbieh 9««m to BxprnBB lack of avardness* 

Analyaing on thl« abatraet Iwal, th© abova mantiooed author 

arrivaa at thl« dafinition by an argumant vhlch taket tha followlng 

turns "»Hypocrljiy ii an exprassion of actlvity and aoandal of pasaivity, 

Arorbody i« mibjaot to aeandal rooaptivity of whloh ha «hould ba avaz*a 

by abollshijag »eandal. In gf»naral pas^lvlty of aoandal find« It aaalar 

to rwnain qulat, but thar» lüust ba just ano\igh aotlvlty to baar suf far- 

ing of aoandal and not to viah to loae it»>* Purauing tha a rgiman t» Klarka« 

gaard inpllaa that **hypoarlffy ia aoandal tonard onaaalf , and aoandal ia 

hypocrliy toward onaaalf • Both laak Intariortty and do not dara to 

affront thair tnia l.^ 

Tha conaluaion la that tha hypoorita anda by balng hypoorita 

to%«rd himaalf 9 baaauaa tha hypoorita ia aoandaliiad by hinaalf or la a 

aoandal to hiauMilf • Thua aeandal^ vhan not aboliehad, anda an hypoerliQr 

1. Soaran Kiarkagaard, }m ffoi^Ofpt df VAn|{oj,ftf » tranalatad frow tha 

Daniah by Kmid Farlov and Jaan J« Gataau, Oalllinard» 1935| pp* 20S«09, 

2« Ibld > 

towards oth«r«| *^te«aua« thm «eandaliiod b^ the judleioua aetlYiV i^iio)i 
rmintains hisi In seantel has fmäm of his r«ceptiTity 90!»«thing 0lM^ thui 
forclng hiia to b» a hypoeritt toward othtr»«** 

In o\3T opinioiii thin d#flnltlon do«8 not dirf«r fundiimontalI}r 
from th0 dofinitioc giv«n 1^ th« Spanish fetkämBi^i '^Seandal, thu metlon 
or Word that 1» tb» öau»« vherator »omeone do#s evtl to or thlnk» avll of 
«notlMir» It i» coEroonly divido Into th« active and passive by tbeolo^ 
glana« Tha activa in tha raprahwaalbla vord or daad that la tha ocoaaion 
of tba aplritual Injur^ or rul» in a nalghbor« Tha paasiva la tha aaaa 

aplrltual ruln or «Ifi into vhioh tha nelghbor falls aa a rasult of word 


or daad of anothar «••'* 

Sooiologieal Concapt of Original Sin 

In ordar to gat a battar undar«ttandlng of tha phanonana of 
iMnialL aal fegrpoerlay^ it ia naaasaary to uniarstand cmn« Soeran Klarka- 
gaard doaa so by Introduaing tha oonoapt of original sin into hia argu«* 
mant« Hm TBtwn ua to tha «tory of tha "fall," as prsfiantad by G@naaia$ 
ha äff Irma alao that thara 1« in our day a tandanqy to look upon tha 
oonoapt of original sin aa tm a iqyth, aad aubstltoting it by anothar 
aallad raasoni and as soon as raason falls into s^ths» thara la but wind« 
Thtis Klarkagaard thlnks that tha story of O^nasla Is tha only eonoapt 

!• Xiarkai^ardt o»juj2Ü« 

4« Spaniah Aoadamy, Plationary of tha Spanlsh Languana, Dafinitioii 

uaad 1^ Pedro Antcmlo da Aleratm In hia book Ths Seandal . tranalatad 
froR tha Spenlsh by Philip H* Rilay and Htibart J, Twnay, Kav Tortci 
A. A. Knqpf, 19^15. 

vlMir« dialeetio« ar# in fall agre^xr^ntt «int entctnd into %:m vorXd b^ 

anoth»r sini in otter vords, ''sin pr«iitq)po0e« itMlf | it eam^ß into 

th« World in räch a wiy that while belng, It 1« pytsyppoptd»** In othmr 

vords, thora i« a Junpi but thisr Juaip poM« at tha pama tlj^a q^mlit^f 

yat onoa quallty ia poaad, tha jta^ Is alraad;)' lisipliad in it and 

preauppoaad from it aa quallty itialf ia praifiippoaad from tha Jub^, 

Thia ia a aaandal for raason, thua it miat ba a n^ th. In cosfipensation 

iMMKm itaalf invanta a nav rayth vhich negataa tha Jump, jnakea of a 

airala a atraight lina, and than avaiything alidaa naturally..,« for 

Inataneai (mm monkay^ tvo monVaya, thraa monkayai loan ••« 

Conoapt of Haa 

Viava ara axtraiaaly divargant on tha aubjaat of inan« FT<m 
thaaa nho hava arrived at tha oci^plata nagation of rmn, in othar vorda, 
haira baan foroad to rajaet totally tha raality of their own axiatanoa^ 
to tboaa who hava arrived at tha daifleation of rjüd, thara ia a Midm 
gap« Both viana tmm^. to anggerata alightly, though again aartain 
axparianeas of Htm way w<3«atiaaa ba auch aa to giva yalidity to thaaa 
tvo axtri^tüwa. Howavart it ia baat to aattla for baing aosnathing laaa 
than a god, and for a littla mora than tha firat vould lika ua to aa« 
aaptf it ia uaually tha opinion adranaad by aona aoolar arui rathar 

5« liarkagaard, op> cit« « in oonaluaion» ha fitataa; **Lifa ahowa 
aueh seandaliiad oharaotars ending by uaing thair aaandal aa a 
laaf for thair naad of a hypoarita'a garb," 


r#All8tlc »ind«. Aocopdln« to om of th# greftt«§t phllo»oph«r» , Ari«itotl«t 
Mn 1» tt rational Änixnal, ccanpoaad of rÄtter and form gulded t^ tiie mind* 
And a laore rawnt philoBopluir aociologiat, such a« G, H# Maad» prmmntB 
mn «« the "««If tümpomA of th« »M«» awi »I*..*** So that it «a» ba 

loartain^d that Hl Is an Indlvldual and, as such, i» at tba 



all mankind. 

"At all i30E5ont» tha indlvldual i» himaalf and rawikind. It ia 

tl» parfaation of t)« huaan balng eonaidarad a» a »tata» At th« nmm 
%ism thla ia a contradictioni and 6 aontradiotlon la tha axprasfilon of 
a problam; probla« ii^llaa aova»ant, but a moffmmn% toward tha Identioalj 
It i« a hiatorlc?a »or^ant* Thua tha indlvldual haa hiatory, and laan- 

klnd too^** 

»•Any indlvldual haa tha aaaa parfactlonj thla la Mhy Indlvl- 
duala do not saparata in nu»arloal unlta, no »ora than tha conoapt of 
aamklnd vanlaha« as a phanto«,** ar^sarta Soa'^an Kiarkaiaard« 

la^ indlvldual la a?»aantlally Involvad in tha hlatory of 
all ot^la^a, no lasa asmentially than in hia o«a. In this aensa paraonal 
parfaation oonalata in partialpatlon wlthout rBtmrv% in tha totality» 
•»No Indlvldual la any »ora Indiffarant to tha hi^tory of laankind than 
tha lattar ia to tha hiatory of tha indlvldual»» 

Tha Qood danaa of Daaaartaa 

It voold oartainly ba an Injuatioa toMrd I>$9mrUm to aagr 


6« KiÄkagi^rd, sSUjaü* 

thAt ho VDUld objeet to thls perfeet abatraeticm of isankind, Yet, 
tefi(mrt«9 lilc«» to »tr#ii» %hm f«ct tl«t laankind 1» coeipostd of wmi^ 
of Indivldoiel« who havn «11 good aonse but do not bok lii ihm mwß 
dlr«etlon« Thue h« says thAt good secse is th« thlng in th# vorld tht 
best ßharod« K&eh om in faet feola hlnuielf to hm no \mll providfKi vith 
i%p "that thowi mrmn ^iho nrm tho mogit diffleiilt to «tlsfy vith naythltig 
eise do not vi»h to possese mor« of it thaa ihmy do hav© »,♦ ?>iis doea 
not mmmn that all ara miatakan, but ratbar thia provaa that ÜMI poMr 
to judga wall and to dlatinguiah tha trua from the falae^ whioh ia pro- 
parly that whioh la eallad good aonaa or ra&aony la naturally eqiml in 
av«rjFliu4/s and hanca dlTarait^y In our opinlona doaa not ecmia from tba 
fkot that aoü)a ura rmrm raaaonabla than othara, but only that wa eonduot 
our thought.^ throui^ divaraa waya» and do not look \xp(m tha aaeia thiaga« 

fUrtharmora, it ia not anoiai^ to httW a good mind^ but tha noat iRpor- 


tant ia to applj It wall •••" 

ia mn axpraaaion of hia htenllity, ha adda» '^aa for rm, I bava 
navar pratandad to hava a aind rmnt parfaot than tha oommon paoplai I 
ham avaa wiahad oftan that njr tlltaking w«ra aa faat^ or v9 iaagiaation 
aa naat and diatinot, or »amory aa vaat or aa praaant aa that of aoma '- 


A final elarifleation ia fumiahad bj Dasvaartaa» vhan hm aaya. 

?• Ran* Daaoartaa, Qiacoure da la aathoda ^ Paria, Auac buraaux da la 
publiaatt<m> 1867» p« 1» 

*• Ibid < 


"Having notleed that th#ra Is nothing at all in thi« < I thlnk, hrae« 

I wi • which oo^ild as*iur# me that I teil th© truth, otil^ that I w# 

olearly tlmtt In ord#r to thlulc, mß »uat ba, I thought that I could 

oonaldar It ao a gerjaral rola that thinga whioh we oonoaiva ^MPy clearlor 

tai very diatinctly ara all trjka, but tbara in nmm dlffieultj? in 

diatiagttLahiog vhioh ara tha onaa diatlnotlj ooncaived .•♦»* 

Laatly, Pasoal, iii a al»rp raaliam, wiUl MMgr oth«ra, siakaa 
which halpa to graap avcm mora tha probla:u of this atudy« Tt 
ia a ahc5rt rasiark füll of revelation "truth on thia »id© of tha r'yraaaai 
•rror beyood." Wlthout wiahlng to antar f^jrthar into Pascal' a iaplloa- 
tiona, it aaeroa to fit tha problaa wa hava deaoribad« In othar vordai 
gociaty at larga i« aompoaad of «ociatlaa. 

Soolaty - Orämr - Prograaa 

In tha broad Maiing of tha worda, it aaaiaa that thara ia no 
raal ditreTene9 batwaan tha aonaapt of sauakind and Soeiaty, aapeaially 
if it ia i^k0B of aa Soclaty at large, in ita totall ty. It ia than 
alao aav ^<^ inaluda in tha aatagory of vSoaia^, tha aub-^t«forlaa of 


Now lika raanklnd^ ^oiaty viawad in a atatia perfaation oen 
to aaid alao to ba in a harajonloua ordar* By ordar in tha abatract, ona 
xindaratanda a oartain hamonioixa linkaga of thiaiga« Thia ordar, again 

9# Daaaartaat {»♦ |>it> 


looked ^iprni in th« Abetmct, U mibjoct to ppogr««9, in other word« to 
inotlon. IR other words, thi» motlte or progwsn iß vhat io called now- 
adaya r^voluticm. In oth&r vord«» thi« ord«MP 1» 6ymmie. And Soe^e^ 
«ßd gocisti«» ore oubject also to thi« ^nanslaa« 

from aow om, 0Txä«r will meBii a o^rtain social or poliiiORl 
ordtTi legally «»tabliihad, or th» outcoTJ^^ of a progro««iva (without 
vali» Judgffi0nt8)o?s«rg:enca of lav» or tradltional pattarn» of ouBtmiBn 
«•ra again, it i» parl-^ap« neoessarj^ to clarif;^' th« coneept of traditio» 
whioh i« not a mro obsarmbla faot lika an axl»tJiig cutt«, It la, 
imthar, an idaa which c^xpresfies n rnlün jud©s«»nt. Tradition i« «ot ^If» 
instituti» but tha Wllaf In its velua, Baaidao ita ftmction in devalop- 
ing naticmaiisiBi end raliglous attacliiaent^ traditicm pla^'ö a larga pari 
In diraoiinic tbe poliey of a nation and in detarmining iha limita withi» 
which oartain devalopraant« mnist taka placa» 

Hl Hhi otheor band, cuatoMi ara mattare of facti thay aiciat 
only a« long aa thay ara widalj praotload ßnd ganarally recogni»ad| vhan 
a ou»to£n i» ineraly a Rwwnory it caasaa to ba a cuatom. A traditior. piay 
nall ba iraraly a lawBory^ ratalnad by an «irtra«ly mMll nunbar of paopla. 

Tradition also is aot quita tha mm a« oons0rv?5tiflß, vhich 
eonaam« itsalf lasa with tha iTsitation of older Standard» than wlth tha 
a^tinuad anJoya»nt of th»a. 

fhtta, ordar» whlah i» a^^Tinmic whan it follow» a natural ao\araa 
vithout graat ahaka-^p», pacimi» in tht human 9y% al^tioat uimotioad» At 


tia»« onn 8p«Äki of thit as «volutioa, of developiaent ov \infoldlng, 
or perlmps antrgeno«* 

Wh«n t}«*« 1« «n abruft d«velopi?i6nt uhioh cnuflMie «uideii 
d«»truotlon of all »oolal bon©«, wh#r« thm contlnuliy of th» •i!tabli«h#d 
Itgility is disraptöd, on« applles to thia ph«notieiian the lab^l "r^volu- 


Sc otidal in one exprtsaion of human social behavior whleh tmkm» 

plAO« within a «ociety, group of Indlvldual« llvtng In annociation 
mor« or 1#9» cocapleUi of work, raßterial &nd Spiritual Interestg, For 
social bohavior, and the infcuraction of Indivlduala, group» and natioöÄf 
ara regulatad by athi€»l, polltical and raligiou» rula«, Now thaaa rula« 
are not rigidly ffystaraatlÄfKi, hu% thay evolva , and ara d:fnaml0| thu« %hm 

ralatlonii of 

ara alto d^namlo» 

Scandal, »xprosision of Social - Polltioal BabaTlor 

That an actraaa, in th« Unitod ^tatas for insitanoa, or a lawyar*» 

wifa in Franoa, raveals to tiM^ curioaity of tha nmsiaa» 

icrat of bar 

lüiabahairior, thia 

to ba a aaandftl whiah will not nkmkm ndnda nor 

•tataa* Tha «tory will Insplra p^oplB tandlng to ba too «olaian wlth prln- 
cipla« of a purltan philoaophy and siatiaf^ aartain instlncts of tha publio 
vithottt laaving traoaa in mamory« 

Hanory • Soaial - Indivldml 

Ko mantal aativlty is avar puraly eognltl-rap in tha ^nM 
tbat it is at tha aaiaa tiisa davoid of motiv&ting or asiotional foroa« 



Isr^iiJilble to iicoo\«it for sitnory imlass tbt individual \mT^ motlirattd 
%o remmnhmr^ tbm j!ßotiv« ma^r hm a politioal m* raelal hatrsd» In any 
•▼«nt^ eognitlTa proem^^m» (vhiah inelud» tha lnt«lleotual ohanges in 
) and motivational proemnmis (vhieh Inolude tha Intaraat faetor 

ib r\m^r) ar« al^eaja blandad and fuaad« 


km atatad by AUport and Forissmn, the eoursea of individual 
nar^ory and of ''»ocial lüaBwary** ara in Jsof?t ref?paetö parallel. The nm^ 
pattem of dl.^tortion exlata in both« knd thi» is not aurprlalöf slnW 
**soelal wmmoirj^ la a mattar of rj^eeaaaiva Indlvldtml minda liandling 
aaaantlally tha 9fmm laatarial* 

If %ia had to mA •'Whtch 1» tnora accurata, individiial er aooial 

wmmoryl^ ooa vould answar in faTor c^ individual 

To a oonaidar«» 

abla dagrea tha original parcaption ecaistraina tha individual to kaap 
hia tranafomationa vithin bounda« Üaually vith tha aid of iisagary and 
verbal labala^ ha holda onto tha 0i«5antlal featurafli of tha original rjar- 

ion» and m^- likevlaa do a aonaidarabla bit of 

aing batvean tha 

%im of tha praaan tat ion and tha raport* Social nasory, on tha othar handf 
haa no oomparabla anehoraga. k naw llatanar haa no rarmlning iraa^^ agalnat 
vh5ah to mhmmik hia eoncaptlcm and, howevar unlikaly hd tm^^ regard somi of 
tha dataila that ha haara, hm Imm littla aholoa but to acoapt tlia^i at 
thair faoa valiia« 

!©• Dtff fK9^9l9Kr 9^ Pqffftr> ^^-^»«7 »olt and C©,^ Hav York, 1947* 


Tat Indivldt»! rmmory vmy b© Imnw aceurmtf if «n indlvlduftl 
mli!p«ro«lvi« «nd oontlnually rehear««» «nd reinfotom» hl» error« Suoh 
dt»torticm I0 •«p«©l&Hy «•rlou« If the error» are In acGordaaea with 
th« sttbJ«ot'8 sallent Interest«, pagt bablti , or pr^ijudloea» Of courw 

Umi stn« dang«r «xlirt« in tcclal 

, 0^«p^cifilX^^ If the ^rtmp in ho- 

isogeneous and slmroi th« sunt bimse» and praeonceptloiia« 

It Is a üharaot0ri.itlo of social joeßorio» thsit they usually 

b«?)Oowa hlghly oonirentlci>Äli»«d, Slnee a ntanÄier of Indivlduala ar« in- 

TolYed^ tha nHumlns that «riargaa in IDraly to be what Is eowaogi to the 

groi^ in quaatitm, f.xmors tlierefore ar» us^jirII^^ aore standardiaedi 

more aoeulturated, and have more of a oorsantion denossinator than do Indivi«* 

dual inemoriea« For tl^ aaiae reasion they are üiore llkely to aoquire a 

aoral tone chareoterletle of the culture. 

There are other form cd!* aoandal vhioh are not linited to the 

event whieh i« the lenedlate eauee of tbe »eandal« 7he> revcMil to the 

public eertalxi asp^cta of human life of vhich they are the «nceinplary 

epl«ode« Theee rev^latlone are/nec^^ajwstrlly of «uoh neture aa to ereate 

eHMMMMit« '^lixy often« ih&y expoee a »täte of thicga, a atate of rolnd^ 

«o oosffiion that they hßire loat aln^oot the povrer to move the public« 

What nakes seandal ia^portant ie not ita unueual aidei on 

the oontrary, it la often that idiieh la eoanon to daily life* It it 

»eesa terrible^ it la beeauee it auddenly preaenta a problem of exietenee 

vith whieh a najoritjr of pcople do not viril to be oonfronted, It eoo- 


the ecmf idenoe of the laaaeee« 


ThM« int«r«8t«d foroM are not almy« Mlf l«h and might aet 
In the j^naral intar^at. But oartainly, aoaudal 1« an agant of trana- 
formtion of ifiora« and Inatltuticma, and Ita afflaaoy raaldaa In %Ym 
famillarlty of Ita r^valatlona, 

Thla ia not aald to favor the utillty of aoandal, but to 
aatabliah ita funotioo aa an agant of tranafonoatic»* Scandal ia aowa- 
what lika the füll blooffi of a chronie allmant whioh wa« unnotiead or 
purpoaely ignorad by ita TiatisMi« 

Thua »oandal bringe to llght alvaya Äot« or tha atata of thinga 
vhlah tha raajority of paopla M^rm not awara of or whioh wara intantionally 

taliyt ignorad» 


hablt ara quita obrioua» tha problam of atnajbioration ariaaa« Tha aam 
holda trtia in tha family, aociatiaa, or tha nation» 

tteavoidably, thi» provokat • olaah betwaan tha üppomim foraaa# 

Kioeolo Machiavalli wa» an artful »aatar in thia 

in« i T id 

Tha Prlnaa will oartainly raaain th« woBt mgnlf ioant piaoa of aoandal 
for ita rewlation-5« Tha oouraa of world hiatory ataada outtida of vir- 
tiMi blaiaa and Juatioa« 

All raeognlaa that tha raalitlaa ha da^iariboa larm raalitiaai 
that irtan^ vhathar in poHtiaa, in buainaaa, or in privata lifa» do not 
act Äccordii^ to thair profaafftona of virtutf that laadara in ir^mrf 
fiald aaak doadnion without faar aod pity and hold onto it tanaoioualy; 
that tha rmnmw who ara eomr^md in a diotatorahJ^ hava to ba vooad and 


dup«d In an othmr form of govemment. 

IdMls and «thloa ar# Important In politioa a» norm«, but tb^ 
ara soaroaly affaotiva aa iaehniquaa» ?ba atrong man have arjn^ in avary 
atatai aalng tha rhatorla of miiaa Intaraat and national glory to axtand 
thair po«^ar and antranah tlialr alaaa» 

*So It la naeaasary to be a princ© to know thoroiighly tha 

natura of tha paopla, and ona of tha populaca to know tha natura of prln- 

Blananta of Seandal 

Thoaa vho int«id to xim aaandal do wall to rtaMnihar tha \mo9T^ 
%Rinty of tha äff acta and aonaaquant raaolta« Any aoandal will not apaak 
to ai^ publia. Seandal, fabriaatad or artlfieial, uaad for tha a(3qi)lolta» 

\ji^ iin»ert5)uloaa paapla or polica night not ba aff^otiva^ 

tion of Ä 

Scandal la a univaraal phanomanoo yat navar MpasMI mmt/Ojf, ae that 

Ita laanipulatioa ^Ight ba diffioult« 

Tha politiaian, for anas^a^ ahould not ba di!9turbad by tha 

h^rpocrita who i^paaka of vmnity of graatnaaa ani henwa vhiah ha doaa not 

aaak| vani^ of monay whioh la not in hla aafa, and of privllagM vhlA 

ba doaa not anjogr -* aa yat« 

II» liaoolo Haohlavalli, Tha Prinea and tha DiaK^ouraaff ^ Tha 24odam 
Libraiy, 1940» 

12« Tha Manipulator of aoandal ahould alM> ba avara that ba might ba 

aiibjaet to lagal aatic». Tha gnoyalopadla Ar^ariaana haa thi» to aay 
of aoftndalt '* Scandal, in law, ii any injurious statai^nt ooncaming 
anothar paraon whiah nay c<^»tituta tha fovmdatlon for lagal aetlon* 
In tha popvOar nsaaning of tha tarm, aoandal ia tha rapiort, vhathar 
trua or ftilaa, of dlBgr-.oaful bahavior on tha part of a paraon of good 
raputation^ or imlioioua goaaip laading to tha loaa of raputation by 
tha iiq>lioatad individual«» 


\nio0V9T vftnts to M9B 9etind&l should rmmmbmr that th« hypoorit« 
doo« not t«ll the truth about hteself , for he wotald not b« mblm to t#ll 
th« truth to othÄM, Tht »or« sMiv^r« h# i« toward othtra, the mor« indul- 
g«nt i« liil wltit klmitlf« 


Then to hav« scandal, th«r« isust b© a oontent or iMiterlal. 

It might hm a mmll ©vent but muat draw somehow raoral concluslcms. Th« 
•eandal etm b© attractiv«! ap«ctaoulart moving or »ubjaet to iBoekary, in 

ordar to drmw mora fixadly %b» ourioslty of tha raa 

to faollltata 


Tha ftoandal ahould ba aurroundad by s^stary 90 aa to avaka 



tliat thara in an unlintitad amount of dioioa aa to 

what oan ba uMd aa natarial for aeandal« Any 

t of 

llf a laay 

ba orandad a« soandaloua if proparly uaad* But in tha polltiaal aphf^ra 
thara ara eartaln standardlaad matariala. Thay ara old» wall provan^ and 
Imvai aa a rula, produoad tlia aiqpeotad rasults, Cba politiaiani qt ooa 
partiff ^^^^ aecuM anothar of aaaking powart of atriving for diotatc^ship 
or of iiaposing diatatorahip» Many a riaing and parhapa proinialng *atar* 
bad hia vinga aut in thin majaatio flight, tnd andad Ju«t in tha poat of 
rainiatar - if not in priaon» Tha acouaation of curruption alao givaa 
awminc raaultai staaling, raiauaing publio funda i«9 a kind of oaandal 
vhieh emuaaa tha downfall of a paraon •Itting in nom luoratifa 


mlnlflterlal po»ltlon. Th« «xtrewÄly wldely practiosd acc\x»ation nowa- 
daya of being a traltor to bis party, to his cotmtry la ont ^my of 
ostracislng. In politioal tarmlnology, thia is ona of tha baat of- 
fansiva and dafanaiva toola. Ona may aocuaa ona's opp<»ient of not ful- 
fllling hia promlaaa, and by tha smm tokan Imply that ona 1» going to 
do a bettar Job, 



It la of tha utmofft teportanoa that soandal haa actora of 

a social rsnk in a givan aoclaty» Thls haa great influence on tha birth 
and davelopiaant of acsandal, though it might happan that an unlÄportant 
figura beeomaa tha cantar of a big affair. Such thinga happanad to 
Captain Drayfus, an unknown officar, vietim of a judiclapy arror, whoaa 
nama baoaiaa fanoua throughout tha vorld« Thia iMIf it aaemai at flrat 
a oaaa of diaopimination, Tha iwan waa a Jaw. Hara tha trua actora wara 
hia frianda, hia anamiaa, and tha public at larga^ cmca tha oaaa had baan 
uaad by politiaal partias, ona favorlng tha Hepublic - tha sacond fighting 


Thara may alao ba a particular aotor vho oarriaa a apaeial 

inportanoa. Ha la tha trua makar of aoandal, tha ona raaponaibla for 
it« Ha haa a apaeial appaal for tha publlo» baeauaa tha public idantifiaa 
vith hi». Tbara mmn to ba corraapondanoea and harmonlaa batwaan him 
and tha publie. 

. .i mät^äA .1^ 



Sxtm llghtlng is r#qulr9d^ whioh ia »Imrp und 8\idd»n, süod 

vhioh will throtf the probl«» Into reli«f , fooiising th# oone^ra and mlnd 

©f «vwjrbo^fy on th« habiti! of «ocIp.1 and f»Bllial llf« in their rmality« 

■*■ ■ 

Although th» firat st«p, the planlng of aoandal In tb© social 
soll aroinid us^ ia eaagr «nough, It aoon beec^na« Issposalbla to follov tha 
ehaiti in datail« 

Thla focualng oftan aalaas upon odd, permverlng wrälng, 
vhioh having appMirad aarly in tha aerlaa, oatohaa tha attantlon of aaah 
aueoasaiva littanar and ia oftan pa^aad on in prafarenoa to othar dataila 
intrinaleally moara iisportant to tha atoxy« 

Foeuaing mqt alao taka a nta^rloal tum» itani baing «trassad 
lagr mltiplioatiod» 

gifS maka» for foauaing* Lüoi movamnt, aiaa ia a primary 
datarminant of attantlon« 

ploauyf 1» a form of foeuaing. 


Anyona Vnowa th?^t aaandal eiicaggarataa» The aasenea of a story, 
or vhat aoM llatanar takaa to ba Ita %f$mnM, ia brought out tbroai^ 
accantuation« 7ha point of any aoandal ia to oonray a unlfiad tc^raifsion 
of acnnathing daamad in^rtant« 


Tha alaboratlon that takaa plaoa ia raally in tha intaraat of 
aiapliolty» daallng aa it doaa vith aooantuation of tha riain thana« 



What uaually Irapp«!« 1» Umt äü ©vent oac« •xj«ri©need be- 
eamw bl«ndi#ti wlth pr^rlonm »lisilar event«. In particulmr, »t»n*oti3i>ea 
My b© vi0wed a« a »peeiee of ©ond«nsatioii« 


Oft©!) oertaln ©v©nt« ar© eau©© of «loandal vh©» th©y ©©©üi to 
a i»©d of paopl©, a n©«d of mov»!n«^nt and trur^sf^rsrntloö. So th© 

role of t\w public 1» prljnordlal| ©catidal n©©d© its r« 


havjLng ac©©pt©d it^ th© public 1b it» tum \meoms th© aotor^ who b©^ 
CO«©© part of th© actlon, modifl©« it, imd »0Ri©tin©© ©nd© it in blood, 
©zid b©gln© th© \rfiiQl9 proc©88 an©v. 

Haan© to Carry So ^ndal 

Ctovloualy h©r© Vm f l©ld 1« ©o wld© that th© ©lu)lc© of tnoan© 
1© tmlii9lt©d: it 1» uauall^ contalnad in ^4iat is itiaant by oofamunlCÄtloo. 
Tb© old©©t and sii!^l©at isadia of eonmunlcaticm ©uoh a© th© ©pokan vord| 
and th© vritt©n vord« 

Th© pov©rful ©ff©ct that vord© hav© in arou©ing laM^p©© in th© 
li©t©zMr and flxlng for hlm ih<i c^togories in whioh h© rmet thirik of th© 
©v©nt 1© a rMüJor st©p In th© conv©ntionaliiation of ©candal« Ma»y ©©an« 
dal© ar© oarriad almoat ©xoluslv©!^ in t©rm© of varbal ©t©r©otyp©is» Ovmr 
and ov©r thay Inelud© ©l(^^ia©d and oft©n pr©judl©lal phran©© ©uoh aa^ 
"iB5>ot©iit klngt'' "lu©^ qu©«!,'* and th© ©nilr© t^rreinology appllad to 
th© various ©ooial ©la©©©©^ whi©h h©lp« to provok© antagonlatl© f©©lliig©« 


Th« literßtxir« oajn be that whloh i» found In the gensral fom of book« 
eanylng Vörlcwif nt»^» »u«h at pamphlet», llbel», •tm. In o\xr own tlim 

ctÄismimieation», «o t'iat In ad^Uion to n<9iMpftp«r8| W hßvs the «dio, 

PropftgandÄ 1« al«o of gr«f!t «•rvlos* üi tak« h«Tii jLasswall*« 

d«f Inltlon of Propaganda, Hhm n«nipulatlofi of «jT?ibolii to control o^iro- 

varaial attltudaa." Bmb adteMition could ba inoludad If only a» tha 

BÄnlpulatlon of aryiabola or othar 8«iana to trcmBmit accaptad attitudaa, 
raatrloted to a group &p a aooiaty« 

Kaa&a to Stop Saandal 

3eandal, in politic», 1« uiiad ordlnarily, and In tha opan# 
ftai ?Maaaa of »oanAil play« a ragiilator and coujpraa^ior rola. Whila 
acandal Itaalf 5a a llbaratl<wi| aa In tha opanlag of a mlignapt ab«ea«a, 
vton aofindal brank» out, the partla» Intaraatad in aupprasaing It will 
do thair ut»o«t to qiiiat It down or to lisilt at laawt it» ocmaaqvianoaa. 
Thl« doa« ooew oftan atioaaa«fully by uaing ha aaiwa aaana dasiorlbad 
•bova for tha apraadlng of ao«'ndalj and thara ar« othar maaua both iubtla 
and harah, all dapendin« on tha farbleiaar »Itaatio©* 

Paopla in charga of goiramnanta know thaaa mathöda ra4hlr wall» 
Tha man who la going to opan a aaandal mm ba botight, If it ia dona in 




tiM. Graft, as a rul«, gata a favorabla rasponaa, If It Is an anbl- 
tiou« «rubordinata, he oan ba prop<otad. In Tranoa, tha Lagion d'Honnaup 
oan do the trioka If thls in not •ufficiant, the j|0f,ndal-«5onger isr^- 
k# r©nac»d by anot,h©r scandal whloh will balono« the fix«t. Vhm argu- 
»ent of *'ral«on d'£tat" way !>• put forward, qt the outbreak of » revo- 


tiines, hov6V«r^ mor© radieal «tepg are tairen öuoh aa 

murd^r, ün an international aoale^ a goveranient may creata a »dlplo- 
aatio Incldant*' b^ oloalng it« embasisya 

Last but not leaat, a ^^ovammant i««y daolara war^ which in ona 
«r the vorst «olutlon» ao far. But refutation yield« uaually tha laaet 
reeulta« Tbl» dilemaa still aiiaita another King Salcaaem« 

Scanial in Goveminent 

Several waya exiet to proclal^ scandal, when politioal partiee 
are involved. fto example, that one ia '»rightiet»» or »»leftist.»» Where 
only one unlver?tal party directs tha affaira of the goveraroant, it haa 
1» diffioulty Ijrj acouaing anybody of an^^thing it laay dream of . Dialactica 
work aowahow caügr in the vertieal way in thi« eaae^ while in tho fir»t 
they prooeed morm or leaa horiaontally« 

Aeoordlng io certain atudenta of the niaiter, politlcal - 
finanoial seandala are more fraquant in tha p&rtias of the left thaa othere« 
They giw tha •iq)lanation that tha lef tiet» and thmir pnrllamentarlana 
are often lees wealthy than thair aolleaguea of tha right* 



It denounoe« 111 n of tooltty and vi cm« of govemj«ent| and vaakmwwMls 
of charaot#r t^rm inti»it#d, 

Ifhtn thl*i klnd of s»cftn(Jal br^iitk« out, poople ar« guided by 
partlfttA pas^lons or oonildleratlon« of dootrlnt. No matt«r how ©vident 
»Ight \m the fault, th#r» Is RlVÄjri a dlvlainn of opinion guid«d by 
personal allaglanc« rathar tban varaclty, 

Thiß dlvlalon of opiülon Is not oauaed 1^ a point of faot, 
bot by tha ^^Maoalac** vhieh it \m9 oonvanient to attributa to tte Mandat» 

Dafandara of a aauaa will not put thanaalvaa In aueh a altua- 
tlon vhara thay will hava to dany tha aTldanea, V/hat tbay will dany i» 
the rasponalbUlty of thair oan or pariQr, i.a», tha aaaantial aleniant of 
tha uproar» Tha dafandara will argua that a politialan vho doaa not ful- 
flll hia prograa, or aarriaa it farthar than raquirad, or bringa hia 
country Inio dangaroua vanturaa, dl4 thla vlthln tha nonaal llmita of 




K -^.^ 



iWom Th dlWrd -fi^f^ 



Alvin Johnson 






NO/ EMßER 21. 1943 


These men would have been 
the first to sign: 










\,,^J^ A/lAjtM. 

z^v / /^''^ «?'».Ä •». 





On November 27, 1943, thanks to the gracious ini- 
tiative of Miss Caroline Newton, a group of her f riends, 
American and European scholars and writers, gathered 
on the grounds of her old family estate at Daylesford, 
near Philadelphia, to pay homage to Dr. Alvin Johnson, 
Director of the New School for Social Research. Ameri- 
cans, Englishmen, Frenehmen, Germans, Belgians, 
Czechoslovakians, Swiss, Italians, Spaniards were there 
to honor Alvin Johnson, ''scholar, teacher, humani- 
tarian, and Citizen of the world." 

We need not now relate the intellectual biography 
of Alvin Johnson nor the story of his work. It is suffi- 
eient to say that his life has been completely devoted to 
disinterested research, to teaching, to the cause of hu- 
manity. Wherever there are weak and oppressed, 
wherever there are men to be defended, Alvin Johnson 
has been found in the forefront of the struggle. 

All noble causes whose defense requires courage, 
indomitable spirit, self-sacrifice, have been championed 
by the Director of the New School for Social Research. 
And thus, little by little, there has been created around 
him, not only in America but also in Europe, a spiritual 
and moral atmosphere, a legend — that of defender of 
human rights. It was he who met the Nazi ferocities of 
1933 by swift action in rescuing the German intellec- 

tuals who had fallen victims to Hitler. He founded the 
"University in Exile" with German, Italian and later 
on Austrian and Spanish scholars — a university which 
developed under his guidance into an American insti- 
tution with a charter to grant higher degrees. In June, 
1940, at the time of the French disaster, it was again 
Alvin Johnson who took quick and energetie measures 
to rescue French scholars and those who, fleeing from 
the Nazis, had enjoyed French hospitality up to the 
time of the invasion. In spite of every obtacle, ranging 
from the apparently insuperable to the ludicrous, he 
made it possible for these victims of Nazi tyranny to 
land on the free soil of the United States, and to resume 
their work at the New School for Social Research. 
Through these scholars a French university was 
founded, a new unit of the school: the Ecole Libre 
des Hautes Etudes, which represents French higher 
learning in this country and the great tradition of 
French culture and science. 

The men and women who were gathered at the 
ceremony in Philadelphia were addressed by Thomas 
Mann, by Jacques Maritain, and by John W. Nason. 
Miss Caroline Newton graciously acted as chairman. 
The texts of the three Speeches are reproduced in the 
pages of this booklet. These expressions of homage to 

Alvin Johnson are a Symbol of the admiration and 
appreciation feit by intellectuals all over the world — 
by all thosc who believe in the ideals of justice, in the 
value of science, in the vision of a free humanity. 

This homage is paid also to the New School for 
Social Research, which has known how to utilize the 

most varied abilities, the most diversified talents. 
Through the content and methods of its teaching and 
the quality and devotion of its instructors, the New 
School has justified the trust of its Director and has 
become one of the great achievements of Alvin John- 
son, "Citizen of the World". 

Graduate Facuity of 
Political and Social Science 
founded 1933 

Ecole Librc 
des Ha Utes Etudes 
founded 19^1 

Hans Staudinger 

Boris Mirkine-GuetzeVitch 



Alvm Johnson — Great Educator 

JOHN W. NASON, President ol Swarthmore CoJJege 

1 he New School for Social Research will shortly cele- 
brate its twenty-fifth birthday. In our conventional 
educational System it is as unorthodox as it is distin- 
guished. Widely known in name, both the New School, 
and its director, Alvin Johnson, deserve to be better 
known for the originality of their contribution to the 
academic problems of our times. Here is a remarkable 
institution for adult education — remarkable for the 
manner of its origin and growth, for its fertility in 
creating new and exciting ventures in higher learning, 
for the character of its director over the past two 
decades, and for its future significance in American 

The New School was founded in the spring of 
1919 only a few months after the end of the First 
World War. Its founders were concerned with what 
they called the ''new social order." The major prob- 
lems of this new order were conceived as primarily 
economic in character. With the change in intellectual 
climate, however, which appeared in the early twenties, 
this original interest gave way to other concerns. Popu- 
lär interest turned away from economic issues to a pre- 
occupation with the individual and his psychological 

problems. The depression precipitated new economic, 
social, and political questions which once again 
demanded the attention of lecturers and students. 
Throughout these changes the New School remained 
true to its concern with mankind and his problems and 
adhered to its purpose of providing facilities for in- 
struction and research in the vital issues of contempo- 
rary life. 

Early Statements issued by the New School give 
it the appearance of an academic paradise. Appealing 
only to adults, it was to avoid all the problems of 
residential institutions with adolescent students. Therc 
were to be no examinations, no credits, no degrees. 
Without endowment it was to operate largely on fees 
and thus perforce keep alive to the contemporary in- 
terests of the times. No president or dean was to 
clutter up the academic foreground. With a small 
board of directors to assume legal and financial re- 
sponsibilities, actual direction and control were to be 
vested in a body of permanent instructors. Emphasis 
was to be placed, not on teaching, but on learning. 
There is a wistful note about these idyllic plans. Time 
and growth have brought changes and compromises. 

Nevertheless, the hopes of the founders gave to the 
enterprise a direction and a spirit which have deter- 
mined the character of the New School throughout the 
turbulent quarter Century of its existence. 

The founders were remarkable men. Of the many 
individuals who helped to launch the nevv venture 
four stand out — l'horstein Veblen, now recognized 
as one of the few really original economic minds which 
this country has produced, James Harvey Robinson 
whose Mind in the Making was one of the influential 
books of the 1920's, Charles A. Beard, dean of living 
American historians, and Alvin Johnson himself. It 
would be tedious to call the roster of all the distin- 
guished men and women who have lectured at the 
New School. Among the early group, however, were 
Wesley Mitchell, Horace Kallen, John Dewey, Roscoe 
Pound, Graham Wallas, Harold Laski, Eduard Linde- 
man, John B. Watson, John Masefield, Julian Huxley, 
Morris Cohen, Franz Boas, and Stark Young. 

Who are the students who have listened to these 
great men and who now come in throngs to hear their 
successors? Eight hundred and seventy-seven regis- 
tcrcd for the first year. In the course of the years this 
number increased to 4,034 in 1936-37, with admissions 
to Single lectures running as high one year as 25,207. 
Most of the students fall between the ages of 25 and 
45. At least fifty percent posscss academic degrees. 
Nearly all are gainfully employed and add late after- 
noon and evening classes to an already busy day. Some 

want refresher courses in the social sciences. Some seek 
a background of knowledge for which they have come 
to feel a growing need. Some are looking for vocational 
help. Some have no other motive than intellectual 
curiosity which is pursued with serious tenacity by a 
few and — as is only natural — in a casual and transient 
manner by others. It is difficult to calculate the effect 
of a conventional College education on a relatively 
homogeneous body of undergraduates. It is impossible 
to do more than guess at the influence of the New 
School on its motley gathering of students. It would 
be a mistake however, to underestimate the impact of 
the first-rate minds of the faculty on the intellectually 
thirsty men and women who come and return, not 
bccause it is the accepted thing to do or because time 
hangs heavy on their hands, but because they want to 
learn more about the society and civilization of which 
they are a part. They must get something of real value 
to make them come after a füll day's work. They 
bring both a heterogeneity of background and maturity 
of experience which few College students possess. 

The New School for Social Research would have 
a respected place in American education if it had done 
no more than develop along the lines which I have 
just sketched. It has, however, been extraordinarily 
fertile in producing academic offshoots from itself — 
new ventures in higher education. The first of these 
was the Graduate Faculty of Political and Social 
Science, more widely known as the ''University in 

Exile." Founded in 1933 with twelve European refugee 
scholars and two American scholars, it was the first 
major contribution of Hitler to American education. 
There are now twenty European scholars on its faculty 
— fourteen Germans, two Austrians, one Italian, two 
Russians and one Spaniard. Acting as a self-governing 
faculty after the fashion of former German universities, 
these men constitute as distinguished a group as could 
bc found in any German university before the war. 
The names — to make an invidious selection — of Max 
Ascoli, Arnold Brecht, Hans Simons, Hans Staudinger, 
and Max Wertheimer, whose recent deatli is so severe 
a loss, and one of whose courses on Gestalt psychology 
is being carried on by Wolfgang Koehler of Swarth- 
morc College, are sufficicnt to establish the excellencc 
of any institution. It is not surprising that the New 
School was empowered shortly after the establishment 
of the Graduate Faculty to confer both the master's 
and the doctor's degree in social science through the 
University of the State of New York and later in 1941 
in its own name. 

A second child came to the parent institution. In 
a sense it was a second academic gift of Adolf Hitler 
to this country. As a result of the German occupation 
of western Europe, a number of distinguished French 
and Belgian scholars came to this country, many of 
them through the persistent efforts of Alvin Johnson. 
Under the fostering aegis of the New School, they 
formed the Ecole Libre des Hautes Etudes, the equiva- 

lent of a French university, prepared to givQ courses 
on the graduate and undergraduate level. Its head is the 
distinguished French philosopher, Jacques Maritain, 
and on its faculty are such people as Henri Grcgoire, 
Paul Van Zeeland, B. Mirkine-Guetzevitch, Alexandre 
Koyre and Jacques Hadamard. 

With apparently inexhaustible invention and fer- 
tility the New School only a few wccks ago launched 
a third special enterprise on what promiscs to be a 
useful and significant career. On November 17, 1943, 
the Institute of World Affairs was ofhcially inaugurated 
with Adolph Lowe as its executive research dircctor. 
This is to bc primarily a research centcr modelled after 
the British Royal Institute and the Kiel Institute of 
World Economics. Its purpose is to study the basic 
Problems of world society and world Organization. By 
so doing it hopes to make its contribution to the edu- 
cation of world opinion on world affairs and thereby 
to the achievement of a just and durable peace. The 
group of eminent scholars who will compose the In- 
stitute will devote themselves to research and study, on 
a cooperative basis, of some of the long ränge problems 
which mankind must solve if we are to live in a stable, 
ordered and peaceful world. 

The Story of the New School is to a very large 
extent the story of its director for the past two dec- 
ades, Alvin Johnson. Another Dr. Johnson — he of 
eighteenth Century English fame — was once asked by 
Boswell what he thought of the then new practice of 

writing literary criticism of contemporary authors. With 
characteristically raised forefinger he thundered in re- 
ply: "Sir, God Almighty doesn't judge a man tili he's 
dead!" It vvould be easier to follow the precept in this 
case, for a man who at 69 has just presided over the 
inauguration of a venture as novel and promising as 
the Institute has not ended his contributions to our 
generation. Nevertheless, this sketch of the New School 
would be incomplete without some account of Alvin 

Born on a Nebraska farm of Danish parents, hc 
received his B.A. degree from the University of Neb- 
raska in 1897 ^"^ ^^^ ^'^•^- ^^ 1^9^- His major subjects 
were classics and philology, and after a long and busy 
life in many fields, his favorite form of relaxation in the 
evening is still to read Greek and Latin authors in the 
original. A short term of Service in the Spanish-Ameri- 
can war gave him new interests and a new outlook. 
Upon demobilization he went to Columbia where he 
received a Ph.D. in pohtical science in 1902. The next 
fourteen years were spent in teaching economics at 
Bryn Mawr, Columbia, Nebraska, Chicago, Texas, 
Stanford and Cornell. He helped to launch the New 
Republic and was for six years one of its editors. His 
literary efforts run the gamut from a textbook in eco- 
nomics to a novel published in 1936. He was associate 
and chief working editor of the monumental Encyclo- 
pedia of the Social Sciences. His chief work however, 
has been with the New School. Connected with its 

Organization from the beginning, he became director at 
a critical period in 1923. He presided over its growth 
and development; he watched it move from its old 
quarters to the modernistic building on West izth 
Street, for which he raised the necessary funds in the 
heart of the depression; he was the guiding genius 
behind the three special projects I have just describcd. 
We do honor to a great educator as well as to a great 
institution on this occasion. 

The New School for Social Research has been and 
is a great experiment in education which has proved 
its worth. Tlie United States lags far behind other 
countries in the field of adult education. The notable 
achievements of a little countrv like Denmark consti- 
tute a pattern from which we ha\'e much to learn. After 
the war there will be a surging demand for more and 
better facilities for education beyond the College level 
or to provide education for those who missed it earlier. 
People are not through learning at 22 or 23. They will 
have more social, economic and political problems than 
any people has ever been called upon before to face. 
The problems will be more complex. We shall succeed 
in making our democratic form of government work 
only if we can achieve a higher level of common under- 
standing of the issues and a higher degree of general 
participation. American education will have much to 
learn from the pioneering work of the New School. Its 
contribution in the decades to come can be as signifi- 
cant as it has been o\'er the past quarter centurv. 

Alvin Johnson 


Great Humanitarian 

It is a great honor and a great pleasure for me to pay 
a tribute of admiration, of gratitude and of friendship 
to the great educator, the great philanthropist and the 
great liberal, Dr. Alvin Johnson. It is in the name of 
the Ecole Libre des Hautes Etudes and as its President 
that I pay homage to him, and not only to fulfill a 
duty of respect and gratitude to the Director of the 
New School for Social Research, of which our Ecole 
is an integral part, but also to show the feeling of 
personal affection which all of us at the Ecole have 
for this very worthy man, whom we have come to know 
and to love through constant work together. 

I remember with emotion the first day that I 
could appreciate the warm welcome of the New School 
and its Director. It was long before the estabhshment 
of the Ecole Libre, in the spring of 1940, at the time 
when France and England alone bore the brunt of the 
war and fought it under many illusions, — but they 
at least had had the moral strength to declare war 
against the wild beast which had hurled itself against 


Poland, and it was our duty to explain to our American 
friends why this war was a just war, — the most mani- 
festly just that history has known. Dr. Johnson had 
invited me to speak on Christianity and the War at a 
dinner he had organized at the New School. llie nobil- 
ity and the elevation of the words which he was kind 
enough to address to me on that occasion left a deep 
impression on my heart. Later, it was at the New 
School, in an English which still wavered, that I gave 
a sketch of my book on France ( A Tra\'ers Le Desastre) . 
For several months I had been witness to the untiring 
devotion of Dr. Alvin Johnson. Immediately after the 
defeat of the French armed forces and the Vichy capit- 
ulation, he had understood the danger which threat- 
ened intellectuals and scholars, — both French or ref- 
ugees in France, — who were known for their struggle 
against fascism, and for their love of freedom. He 
immediately set to work. In those terrible days, 
when with deathly anguish I hurried from one place 
to another trying to obtain affidavits and visas for 

our threatened comrades, it was in Dr. Johnson, to 
w liom my friend Ascoli had directed me, that I found 
solid Support and an unfaltering guide. From the very 
first nionient he had taken every necessary initiative, 
from the very first he had had the clear vision of what 
should be done, and had taken upon himself the mis- 
sion both of saving men dangerously and often nior- 
tally exposed, and of offering this admirable country 
as a permanent refuge to the intellectual ^'alucs and 
the democratic culture which these men rcprescnted. 

I shall never forget the patience, the gentle but 
invincible tenaeity, never despairing and always activc, 
the ideahstic optimism and also the clever and effective 
practical ingenuity with which he surmounted every 
obstacle and triumphed over red tape in order to obtain 
visas which would enable the New School to invite the 
Professors and scholars caught in the Nazi trap. Tliis 
involved, after an agreement with the Rockefellcr and 
other foundations, an interminable series of interviews 
with government authoritics and trips to Washington, 
preparations for investigation, the making ready of 
hastily gathered documents, insistent efforts continu- 
ally renewed. It could then be seen how a respectable 
man, in order to save his brothers, must cmploy as 
much ruse and obstinacy as an Apache on the warpath, 
and as much patience as an angel — if it so be that 
angels are paticnt, at least those from Nebraska. 

Thanks to all these efforts, and to the moral au- 
thority which Dr. Johnson enjoys in the United States, 

the task which he had taken upon himself was success- 
fully accomplished. And he would be continuing this 
rescue work if the occupation of the entire French 
territory by the Germans had not made it materially 
impossible. Dr. Johnson, who with the advent of 
Nazism had succeeded in f ounding a university in exile, 
which has now become the Graduate Faculty of Po- 
litical and Social Science, and in obtaining for German 
intellectuals and scholars attached to the ideal of free- 
dom the wonderfully generous hospitality to which 
Tliomas Mann has paid homage, Dr. Johnson also 
succeeded, during the war, in bringing across the At- 
lantic a great number of French scholars and intellec- 
tuals and refugees in France, and in obtaining for 
them the same generous hospitality. I thank him in the 
name of all those Frenchmen whom he delivercd from 
the Nazi prison at its moment of triumph, from the 
police oppression of a cloaked fascism, from the anti- 
semitism and anti-French nationalism of the Vichy 
government. Liberated France, the France of the 
Fourth Republic and of the new declaration of rights 
will be grateful to Dr. Alvin Johnson. 

Most of the French or French-speaking professors 
who arrived in New York under the auspices of the 
New School are members of the faculty of the Fcolc 
Libre des Hautes Etudes. As President of a university 
whose Franco-Belgian character provides it with an 
instruetive lesson in international Cooperation, and 
where a Belgian intellectual elfte — whose leader, our 


friend Vice-President Henri-Gregoire is present here — 
teaches side by side with a majority of French profes- 
sors and a number of eminent scholars of other nations 
now oppressed, it is also in the name of these Belgian 
colleagues and European scholars that I thank Dr. 
Alvin Johnson. If we were able to establish our Ecole 
at a very dark and difficult moment, it was only because 
of the Support which Dr. Alvin Johnson gave us. When 
we organized under the direction of our first president, 
our dear Henri Focillon, in order to create what he 
called the first university of Free France, on the very 
strict moral basis of refusing to collaborate with those 
who allowed collaboration with the enemy, and who 
at that time had here an ambassador accredited by 
Vichy, Dr. Johnson gave us his confidence — or more 
precisely, not to us, but to the forces of liberty rooted 
in the French people, the forces which we humbly 
offered to serve. He welcomed the Ecole Libre des 
Hautes Etudes into the framework of the New School 
and respecting our autonomy and aeademic traditions, 
helped us develop an intimate kind of Cooperation 
which has lent originality and fruitfulness to our work. 
I am happy to express to him our deepest gratitude 
for this constant help, this magnificent broad-minded- 
ness, this true friendship, as well as for his penetrating 
understanding of French culture and the role that it 
can play in American civilization. This gratitude, we 
can best show by making of our Ecole, conceived from 
the Start as a permanent institution, a bridge, as he him- 

self has put it, a bridge solidly built and growing wider 
and wider, between American culture and French cul- 
ture, which itself has never been a narrowly national 
or nationahstic one, but which, on the contrary, is 
proud of its universality and draws its very individual 
honey from all the flowers of Europe. 

I should have liked, if time had permitted, to 
speak to you about the most varied scientific and lit- 
erary activity of Dr. Alvin Johnson, of the keenness and 
the fertility of the judgments which his competence 
as an economist and his practical experience, — will- 
fully ironic as is that of garden-lovers who observe 
man, — lead him to pronounce on the political and 
social life of various peoples, and which make his con- 
\ersations so instruetive; I should have liked to speak to 
\'ou about his work as an educator and his devotion to 
the cause of freedom and demoeraey. May I sincerely 
be allowed to say with what joy we learned that he had 
been asked by the Governor of New York State to 
preside over the New York State War Council Com- 
mittee on Discrimination in Employment. 

I hail Dr. Johnson as a truly liberal man, in all the 
most noble meanings of the word, which embrace at 
the same time the cause of political liberty, the liberal 
culture of the mind, and liberaHty of heart, as a great 
representative of the traditions of generosity and hu- 
manity, of love of the people and confidence in the 
people, of the country of Jefferson and of Abraham 
Lincoln, — I hail Dr. Johnson as a great American. 



<***■ ^<*1(1^ 





Alvin Johnson — World Citizen 


To come here and appear as a Speaker in honor of 
our friend Alvin Johnson is an enterprise accompanied 
by a risk that I can lessen only by making the decision 
— which has its origin in an only too justified discre- 
tion — to avoid any evaluation of bis intellectual 
attainnients. This task I shall leave to those who are 
more qualified — a euphemistic coniparison for my 
own qualifications are non-existent. If tbe man in whose 
honor we are celebrating were only a distinguished 
Scholar, I would be completely unsuited for the role 
of official Speaker. But this is not the only title that the 
future will bestow upon him. Posterity will say of him, 
as Hamlet said of bis admired father, ''He was a man, 
take him for all in all" — giving the word ''man'' the 
entire human content with which the occidental lan- 
guages have endowed it. It must be significant that the 
French "homme," the English "man/' has the double 
meaning of "Mann" and "Mensch" — "male" and 
"human being" — while in German the ideas "Mann" 
and "Mensch" are verbally differentiated. When Na- 
poleon Said of Goethe, "Voilä un homme," he did not 
mean, "There is a perfect male," but "Behold a human 
being as it should be." But Goethe, as has often been 


remarked, was not a typical German. On the whole the 
German conception, the German ideal, of a man is 
too specifically male and not human enough. This ideal 
of maleness lacks the touch of Christian womanliness, 
of mercy, of grace, that would Supplement its hard onc- 
sidedncss and round it out into the human. 

We are honoring a man in the completely human, 
the strong and the gentle, meaning of the word, a man 
of deeds — for the dramatic dement of action is in- 
scparable from the idea of maleness — but a man of 
%ood deeds. It is well for us that this also exists; namely, 
the energy whose origin is in goodness and whose goal 
is the good. Our age has shown us the man of will and 
action, the modern tamer of the masses, in the form of 
Fascist dictators, whose cunning and energy are en- 
tirely at the Service of evil. Must strength be evil? On 
the contrary. That Democracy also has shown itself 
capable of producing the man of action, strong, tough 
and cunning, the manipulator of men, the great ^o\\- 
tickn of the good: that is its salvation, that is the 
salvation of mankind. 

Goethe, who said everything in the best way, bril- 
liantly described this type of deliverer, the "politician 

Alvin Johnson 

of the good/' in a stanza of the ''Epilog zu Schillers 
Glocke/' He said: 

''Nun glühte ihm die Wange rot und röter 
Von jener Jugend^ die uns nie entflieht, 
\^on jenem Mut, der früher oder später 
Den Widerstand der stumpfen Welt besiegt, 
\^on jenem Glauben, der sich stets erhöhter 
Bald kühn hervordrängt, bald geduldig schmiegt. 
Damit das Gute wirke, wachse, fromme. 
Damit der Tag dem Edlen endlich komme." 
I won't translate it. There are too many people here for 
whom it is entircly unnecessary to translate, who, al- 
though they have long been loyal sons of the New 
World, still remain true to the Cid World and their 
German heritage. "Unser Freund'' — "our friend" — 
is the recurring phrase of this poem of homage of one 
great man to another. And we also use this phrase, we 
also say "unser Freund" and mean Alvin Johnson, the 
man of good deeds, the man who although nearly sev- 
cnty has never lost true youth, the man whose courage 
sooner or latcr overcomes the Opposition with which 
the eternal inertia of the world opposes new, magnani- 
mous undertakings. To accomplish the work that we 
are celebrating in his person, he, too, needed the faith 
that now boldly presses forward, now patiently yields, 
the idealistic tenacity of the political man who wants 
to attain the good in a practical form in a sluggishly 
responding world. 

This good work of deliverance is the University in 

Exile, to which he gave material form within the f rame- 
work of the New School for Social Research. A great 
idea, whose realization required youthful courage, bold, 
adroit confidence, in short, a man, a real pcrsonality, 
with all the wilfulness, all the characteristic limitations, 
yes, with all the tyrannical features, of a forceful, pow- 
erful and persuasive man, that everyone is glad to accept 
in the end as he is and must be, to accomplish his mis- 
sion. The faith that made him strong was the faith in 
intellectual freedom, in human fellowship transcending 
national boundaries, in the vital need for freedom and 
a common front and, by virtue of this faith, he found 
ways and means to rescue no fewer than a hundred and 
sixty-seven European scholars of note from the ter- 
rorist chaos of the old portion of the earth, in which 
free thought was no longer possible, where the mind 
was no longer able to breathe, and to introduce them 
into this land and into the intellectual life of America. 
IIc thereby placed all civilization under Obligation, 
strengthened the intellectual impetus of this country 
and gave homeless European thought a shelter in which 
to survive the winter, where it might become enriched, 
imbued with a world-wide point of view; and with the 
instinct of a man who is wise in the deepest sense, he 
thereby accomplished a task that was wonderfully fitted 
to answer the great, fundamental requirements of our 

This is what I mean. In their countries of refuge, 
many emigrants have taken root, have built up new 

lives, and they have no desire to Start all over again. 
Others, especially the younger ones, are waiting only 
for the clock of history to strike the hour that will call 
them home. Some day they will hasten back, eager to 
serve as cultural or political leaders of a new Germany. 
Equipped with the experiences that they have collected 
during the years of their wanderings and that have 
widened their horizon, they will, indeed, be extremely 
useful to their country; for Germany needs nothing so 
much as air from outside, knowledge and understand- 
ing of a world in which she has been isolated for so 
long. But those who do not return will also have their 
task to do, their mission to perform for Germany, for 
Europe, for the world. For in any Situation today it is 
an advantage and an arrangement that fortunately con- 
forms to historical circumstances to be a Citizen of two 

The earth will be one. Mankind is faced with the 
choice either of tearing itself to pieces in shattering 
wars, one after another, and watching the destruction 
of civilization, or of uniting in an Organization of life 
and Society that will be governed by the idea of the 
Community of work, in which the earth will be con- 
sidered the common home of everyone and in which 
everyone will be guaranteed an equal right to the en- 
joyment of its goods. In such a world — and this is 
already true today, for its preparation — it will be of 
little moment and of little help to be only a German, 
an American, an Englishman, in short, only a national. 

in spirit, experience, language, point of view. A word 
will be restored to esteem that for some time has 
seemed old-fashioned, the word "world-citizen". 

It is a good, old German word, but life is in process 
of attributing to it a new and deepened moral sense; it 
will be the mark of a new self-knowledge on the part 
of mankind, of which the germination is the most 
hidden and the most remarkable process of our age. 
I believe that out of the suffering and struggle of our 
difficult period of transition, a wholly new and more 
emotional interest in Humanity and its fate, in its 
exceptional position between the realms of nature and 
mind, in its mystery and its destiny will emerge, a hu- 
manistic impulse which even now is alive and active 
in the best hearts and minds. This new humanism will 
have a different character, a different color and tone 
from the earlier related movements. It will have en- 
dured too much to be satisfied with an optimistic 
naivete and the desire to see human life through rosy 
glasses. It will lack all bombast. It will be aware of the 
tragedy of all human life without letting that aware- 
ness destroy its courage and will. It will not disavow 
its religious traits, for in the idea of human dignity, 
of the value of the individual soul, humanism tran- 
seends into the religious. Concepts like freedom, truth, 
justice, belong to a transbiological sphere, to the sphere 
of the Absolute, to the religious sphere. Optimism and 
pessimism are empty words to this humanism. They 
cancel each other in the determination to preserve the 


honor of man, in thc pctthos of sympathy and duty. It 
seems to me, that without such a pathos as the basis of 
all thinking and doing, the structure of a bctter, hap- 
pier World, the world Community that we wish to 
achieve out of the present struggle, will be impossible. 
From this pathos should be derived a solemnly estab- 
lished and affirmed fundamental law under which the 
peoples of the future will live together and to which 
all ^^ill havc to pay reverence. No real pacification of 
the world, no Cooperation of the peoples for the com- 
mon good and for human progress will be possiblc 
unless such a basic law is established, which, notwith- 
standing national diversity and liberty, must be valid 
for all and recognized by all as a Magna Carta of human 
rights, guarantecing the individual his security in jus- 
tice, his inviolability, his right to work and to the 
enjoyment of life, "the pursuit of happiness". For such 
a universal basis may the American Bill of Rights serve 
as a model. 

In his biography, Diciituiig und Wahrheit y Goethe 
speaks of an ''alleviation for humanity" aflFected by the 
American war of liberation; and the European emigra- 
tion to America which finds its way into the final parts 

of the Wilhelm Meister, sprang from the constant 
desire to participate in this ' alleviation," it was the 
pilgrimage to a pure fountain of health. But the meas- 
ure and the significance which this flight and migration 
have assumed at present, are something new. Tliis dia- 
spora of European culturc, the arrival of so many of 
its bearers, representatives of all categories of science 
and art, to these shores; their more or less involuntary 
decision, transformed however, into an anior fati, to 
complete their work in the American air of life, that is 
something very stränge and unprecedented; it opens 
unexampled possibilities of exchange and equalization 
and may be supremely helpful in creating the new feel- 
ing of humanism of which I spoke. Our emigration 
thus assumes an entirely different significance from 
that of any emigration, the significance of the coales- 
cence of the hemispheres, of the unification of the 

And so it is a great work, of a deep symbolic mean- 
ing and in füll harmony with the order of the world 
hour, that the courage and the faith of Alvin Johnson 
has accomplished. Long live Alvin Johnson, long live 
the University of both hemispheres! 


66 WEST i2th STREET 

NEW YORK 11, N.Y. 


honor of man, in thc pathos of sympatliy and duty. It 
seems to nie, that without such a pathos as the basis of 
all thinking and doing, thc structure of a bcttcr, hap- 
picr World, thc vvorld Community that \ve wish to 
achievc out of thc prescnt strugglc, will be impossible. 
From this pathos should be derived a solemnly estab- 
lished and affirmcd fundamental law under which thc 
pcoples of the future will live together and to which 
all \\ill have to pay reverence. No real pacification of 
thc World, no Cooperation of the peoplcs for thc com- 
mon good and for human progress will be possiblc 
unlcss such a basic law is established, which, notwith- 
standing national diversity and liberty, must be valid 
for all and recognized by all as a Magna Carta of human 
rights, guarantccing thc individual his security in jus- 
tice, his in\'iolability, his right to work and to thc 
enjoymcnt of hfe, ''the pursuit of happincss''. For such 
a universal basis may thc American Bill of Rights scr\c 
as a model. 

In his biography, Dichtung und Wahrheit, Goethe 
speaks of an ''allcviation for humanity" affected by thc 
American war of liberation; and the European emigra- 
tion to America which finds its way into thc final parts 

of thc Wilhelm Meister, sprang from the constant 
desire to participate in this ' alleviation," it was the 
pilgrimage to a pure fountain of health. But the meas- 
ure and the significance which this flight and migration 
have assumed at prescnt, are something new. This dia- 
spora of European culturc, the arrival of so many of 
its bearers, representatives of all categories of science 
and art, to these shores; their more or less involuntary 
decision, transformed however, into an anior fati, to 
complete their work in the American air of life, that is 
something verv stränge and unprecedented; it opens 
unexampled possibilities of exehange and equalization 
and may be suprcmely helpf ul in creating the new feel- 
ing of humanism of which I spoke. Our emigration 
thus assumes an entircly different significance from 
that of any emigration, the significance of the coales- 
cence of thc hemispheres, of the unification of the 

And so it is a great work, of a deep symbolic mean- 
ing and in füll harmony with the order of the world 
hour, that thc courage and thc faith of Alvin Johnson 
has accomplished. Long live Ahin Johnson, long live 
the University of both hemispheres! 


66 WEST i2th STREET 






66 WEST 12th STREET • NEW YORK 11 • OREGON 5-2700 

September 17, 1958 

Mr. Ralph Walker 

Chairman of the Board of Trustees 

New School for Social Research 

66 West 12th Street 

New York City 11 

Dear Mr. Chairman: 

On the occasion of its last meeting in May, when the McGrath 
Report was disc^issed, the Board requested Statements from the Graduate 
Faculty reßardiii{3 its views of the Faculty's role within the New 
School, and within the larger frame of American gradiiate training in 
general; over the next decade. 

Since then the Faculty has not been off icially in Session, 
but I have asked its Executive members to give me written Statements 
on this subject. 

Influenced by these memoranda, and on the basis of my 
own administrative work within the Graduate Faculty for some twenty 
years, I herewith submit to you and the members of the Board my own 
personal Statement. To this I have attached a representative selection 
of the Statements I have received from members of the Faculty. The 
latter, it should be borne in mind, were not written as formal documents 
but only as personal responses to my letter. They can, however, be 
regarded as a cross-section of Faculty thinking. 

As you will find, some of them corroborate or amplif y my 
own thinking, while some adopt different points of view, and offer 
more far-reaching suggestions. 

I have endeavored to present my own views in as concise 
a form as possible in order to meet the challenging and provocative 
opinions set f orth in the McGrath Report . I hope they will serve 
the purpose of the Board 's request. 

Very sincerely. 


Hans Staudinger 




Submitted to the Chairman of the Board 
by the Dean of the Graduate Faculty 
September 18, I958 

Tlie fundamental purpose of this Statement is to present my 
ovn and the Views of representative members of the Graduate Faculty 
regarding its future within the New School and within the broader 
context of Graduate training in general. In my opinion, however, 
it is necessary first to consider the basic principles of adult 
education as developed and practiced at the School, and to examine 
the place of the Graduate Faculty within the framework. 

This examination of underlying principles, essential to any 
survey of future developments, is made especially necessary by the 
McGrath Report 's contention that the Operations of the Graduate 
Faculty are in contradiction to the School *s essential character 
as an Institution of adult education. V/hile adult education is the 
keystone of all the Report *s conclusions, and is eloquently des- 
cribed and continually referred to, it is never subjected to an 
analysis of its constituent elements. 

The Meaning of Adult Education at the New School 
Not alone from my own observations but from a careful study of 
Alvin Johnson 's writings about the School through the years in which 
he shaped its philosophy, I submit the following five characteristics 
as defining our institution ' s concept of adult education. The quota- 
tions are from the writings of Alvin Johnson, and they represent only 



a very small selection from an abundance of materlal. 

1) The purpose of the School Is to respond to the need of 
the adult populatlon to understand and pai'ticipate in social, 
intellectual, and cultural developments - the need for continuous 
leaming throughout life. Our endeavor is "to meet the solid and 
enduring interest" of those "who wish to keep abreast of the times 
and to understand the great advances being made in all fields". 

2) In practical terms this means that the School 's offerings 
must be appropriate for individuals of maturity and educational 
background - "education for the educated", rather than for those 
who have stopped their schooling at the ear liest legal age. But 
within the limits of this requirenient the facilities of the School 
must be geared to all levels of interest and needs (as is evident 
from the catalogues throughout the years)« 

3) Corollary to these purposes is the function of serving the 
needs of a democratie soclety , in which th.e lines of development and 
decision must be determined by the adult s that compose it. ^There 
is need of a public opinion based upon independent capacity for 
accurate thinking. Tliis need can be met only by giving every possible 
Stimulus to systematic study on the pait of the mature Citizen". 

^) To serve these purposes, special methods of presentation are 
required that are specifically suitable for communicating with mature 
individuals. "The Nev School may rightfully claim a pioneering Pos- 
ition in this field. It is ,the first institution to address itself 

• »r 


seriously and exclusively to the problem of working out a curricu- 
Itim and developlng educational methods suited to the needs of the 
educated adult". 

5) The purposes, Student body, and methods of the New School 
are appropriate to the Provision of systematlc study and the für- 
therance of occupational alms. As early as 1931 Alertness Credit 
vas introduced to meet the needs of teachers, and shortly after- 
ward the President reported to his trustees: "Most of the students, 
take courses related to their occupations. The housing courses 
have been extreinely valuoble in the new professions developing 
in the public housing field. Wien the public relief Situation 
demanded more trained vorliers than the regulär schools of social 
work could supply, the New School offered a number of special 
courses f or their benef it • . . Some of ^the students^] come mainly 
for the stiinulation and Inspiration afforded by meeting those who 
find adventure in intellectual growth. A nimber are able through 
a wise selection of courses to fit themselves specifically for 
given professions". 

Tliis bare-boned entiineration of our basic principles could be 
given flesh and life by an elaboration of their inrplications : the 
rieh variety of courses and events; the many new advances in the 
Sciences and arts that we have presented to the public (psychology, 
psychoanalysis, painting, dancing, housing, architecture, literature, 
music); the air of excitement and Stimulation that has always been 
found within oui' walls. These qualities, however, we are all 


familiär with, aad some have been evocatively suggested in the 
McGrath Report. My alm has been to emphasize the concrete 
principles that underlie them. 

The Meaning of the Graduate Faculty Within the Nev School 
In discussing the significance of our Graduate Faculty vithin 
this framework, it is necessary that I mention its character and 
accoriplißbiaents. Tliis subject, however, though essential for con- 
ßideration in the present context, need not be elaborated, for It 
refers to facts that ax*e well knovn and undisputed: the Faculty 's 
dedication to freedom and to quality; its vorldwide reputation; the 
cosmopolitan character of its membership and its Student body; its 
combination of the best in European and teerican methods; its avoid- 
ance of cramping specialization; its seminal insistence on the essen- 
tial Integration of the social sciences. Tlie list could be greatly 
extended and docuinented, but I do not believe it is necessary here 
to errrphasize the high quality and achievements of the Faculty, ex- 
cept to stress that they are relevant to all the following observa- 

It is my belief that the distinguishlng characteristics of the 
New School^ outlined in the preceding section, are in themselves a 
refutation of the McGrath Report 's contention that the Graduate 
Faculty represents a deviation from the School 's basic functions. 
I venture to say that even if fate, in the form of the persecution 
of scholarly freedom, had not presented Alvin Jolinson with a ready 



opportunity for the establlshment of a graduate faculty, such a 
\anit would eventually have been set up as the logical outcome of 
the School's conceptlon of its mlssion. Our Faculty is an essen- 
tial development from that conception - as Alvin Johnson put it 
tventy-five years ago, "the culmination of a long pioneering ex- 
peilence in adult education". 

It T/ould be superfluous to spell out the ways In which the 
Graduate Faculty conforins with each of the five individual charac- 
terißtics enumerated above, Instead I shall list several respects 
in which it contributes to the ccanposite of these five principles 
of adult education - in other words, to their embodiment in the 
New School as a functioning institution. 

1) In the first place^ the Graduate Faculty is the natural 
Caps tone in the whole structure of needs and interests served by 
the School. Tlie individual concems of those who are attracted to 
the School are many and varied. From the beginning the students have 
ranged the gamut from those wtio want to attend an occasional event 
to those who want systematic study, and I can find nothing in the 
Institution *s guiding principles that properly says to any of them 
"Thus far you can go but no farther". Again I cite an early report 
of Alvin Johnson 's, in which he referred to this natural progression 
of needs; some students come to the School for "a Single lecture, or 
two or three talks on some outstanding subject of general interest"; 
'*in the main the courses are designed for those who wish to pursue 



infomal inquiry into a given fleld of knowledge"; tut "for those 
who inay..T7±ah to go on stvdying in a more fonnal and sustained f ashion, 
the Graduate Faculty offers postgraduate courses leading to the 
master's and doctor's degreesV 

Nevertheless, the importaace of Including graduate tralnlng in 
the ränge of our offerings should be appralsed not only on logical 
grounds but also In tems of what it actually means to both students 
and Institution. 

2) As regards the students, the possibility of graduate study 
at the School bas of course great value for professional reasona . 
and our senrlce to the nation's professional reservoir must be 
valued as a most important function. Graduate degrees are becoming 
increasingly necessaiy in many professions, but the years of tralning 
In the university graduate schools demand an expenditure of time tbat 
Is impossible for great numbers of students who deslre It and are 
qualified for it. 

In this connection I want to stress an important Impllcation of 
the Word "adult" in our concem wlth "adult education". I am not here 
referring to physical or intellectual maturity or social obligations 
or other such qualities, but to the simple fact tbat an adult ia 
ordinarily a person with a Job, which means that he has no opportunity 
for daytime pursuit of any interests except fulfilling his Job obliga- 
tions. If his interests happen to include graduate study, it seens to 
me that they are a legitimate concem of a responsible adult education 


Institution. It is generally acknovledged that the evening classes 
of the large xiniversities are a by-product, of second caliber/ Cur 
Graduate Faculty can Claim to offer more, precisely because it offers 
adult traininG in an institution specifically devoted to adults. 

3) It should be fiimly stressed, however, that by no means 
all of our students - in fact, not even a majority of them - attend 
our Graduate Faculty for the specific purpose of obtaining a degree 
that vill further their careers. A great many (some already holding 
graduate degrees) come to us for purposes quite distinct from pro- 
fessional aspirations ; for the pleasure of disciplined study; for 
the intellectual enjoyment of keeping their minds alert; for the 
systematic pursuit of a non-job interest; for the personal satisfac- 
tion of meeting the requirements for credits or degrees even if 
these are not professionally necessary. 

These students - teachers^ lavyers, federal., state, and munici- 
pal civil servants^ ne^7spapeiTiien, research workers^ raen and women 


already established in their careers - want systematic graduate 
training, as the peers of other graduate students and with a faculty 
of exacting Standards and aclaiowledged Standing, just as other 
adults want from the New School its general courses on public 
events or its Workshops in writing and painting. The School 's 
general program is not in itself an answer to their needs, for the 
students I am now speaMng of , though they come to us for our insti- 
tutional qualities that I enumerated above^ want in addition the 


facilities of a first-class graduate school, If this possibllity 
were not inade available to them ve would fall to serve a nost 
impoitant segment of the public for vhich our form of adult educa- 
tion Is designed. Again I quote Alvin Johnson: "The scholar and 
the scientist alone cannot create the forces that give democracy 
its vitality; these forces must grow out of the people itself... 
On the other hand, these democratic forces operate with immense 
vaste and tragic confusion where scholarly analysis and direction 
are vanting. These then are the underlying convictions that make 
the New School and Graduate Faculty an indissoluble unit". 

So much for what the Graduate Faculty means for its students. 
What of its significance for the New School as a whole? I propose 
to discuss this subject without reference to the steady increase 
in tlie Faculty *s enrollment over the years, or to the academic 
distinction that the presence of this unit has brought to the School. 

k) P'or one thing, there is a considerable interchange of students 
between the GF and the other units of our institutions - more than is 
generally recognized. Many who have first been attracted to us for 
work in the GF have become acquainted with the of ferings of our other 
two schools and with our vailous special events, and have attended 
these with considerable regularity, either after completing their 
graduate study or as a Supplement to it. And, even more important 
from the point of view of our serving a "natural progression of needs". 



n\amerous Student s who were first dra^m to the gfeneral courses 
have been encouraged to proceed to graduate trainiag. I regard 
this inte movement of students as a irost lnrportant exaciple of the 
School's adult educational principles in action. 

5) There is also an inte3xhange of instructors among our differ- 
ent faculties. Graduate Faculty menibers participate strongly in the 
curricula of the other two schools, including their B.A, progran; 
and a nuinber of the teachers in these schools offer general courses 
t]iat are reco^nized for graduate credit, or teach graduate courses 
as Visiting Instructors. TLie "open" courses given hy GP menibers 
attract ve^y considerable nunbers of students who want the satisfac- 
tion of studying with distinguished graduate -school professors even 
though they do not ezrpect to continue systenatically in that direction. 
One further quotation fron Alvlii Johnson: in speald.nG of the popularity 
cf "courses given by members of the Graduate Faculty to general New 
School students who are not necessarily candidates for higher degrees", 
he has pointed out that "So d;^mamic a group as the Grad.uate Faculty 
cannot f ail to have a most stimulating effect upon any institution 
with which it is connected. Tlie curriculum of the New School has 
been immensely enlivened and broadened by the Graduate Faculty, and 
this effect has been cumulative". Cn the whole there is no doubt 
that an elimination of the GF would reduce the overall New School 
Student body by considerably more than the number who are specificat 
ly registered for graduate study. 

• • 

w . 


6) I imist speak also of the Graduate Faculty*ß essential 
part In other activitles and e:cperimentg of the School , Academic 
research, for example^ did not exist at our Institution before the 
Faculty started its research activities, at first on the merest 
shoestring basis. Over the years these have resulted in scores of 
publications that are outstanding works in their fields, several 
of them used by, or even coramissioned by, (^ovemnent agencies 
as aids in the formulation of policy. Nianerous foiindations have 
given Support to Faculty research projects^ and in some cases have 
taken the initiative in offering grants. At present some tventy 
valuable manuscripts are either in preparation or ready for publi- 
cation. If their publication could be assured - a problem that is 
primarily financial - they would add, ad have their predecessors, 
to the Prestige of the School as well as of the Faculty. 

Another outstanding example is the Graduate Faculty 's initiation 
of special seminars and round-table discussions on a wide variety of 
subjects^ with guest participants who have broad practica! experience 
with the Problems under consideration. A three-comered collaboration 
has thus been evolved: scholars, men of experience, and qualified 
Student s, mainJy graduates of the great tectoical schools of business, 
law, or management. The scholar represents the directive and inte- 
grating element, while the man of affairs contributes his knowledge 
of concrete Operations, and this blending of theory and practice is 
invaluable to all three types of participants. Subjects planned for 

• • 

• • 


this kind of collaboration in the future include such matters as 
labor Problems, the Problems of management, labor-naaagement re- 
lations, the practical Operation of politics in our great cities 
and in the nation. 

Tliere are numerous other exanrples of vhat Graduate Faculty 
members have done to create or take part in new areas in the Opera- 
tion of the School: they established the Business Advisory Group; 
they contribute to the forums of the Associates and to the World 
Reports; they established the very successful Business and Labor 
Luncheons (and initiated the publication of some of these lectures 
in a book that has since been TOanslated into ten foreign languages); 
they helped set up the progrom of the Business Administration Center; 
they have cooperated in inaugurating a labor center especially de- 
signed for union members. TTiis list is by no means complete, and 
a füll enumeration should include also the Graduate Faculty *s 
participation in nimerous imaginative experiments that had to 
be shelved either because their timing was premature or because 
financial resources were inadequate. 

The foregoing examples reveal not only how closely the Graduate 
Faculty is knit into the total Operation of the School but also how 
creatively it has contributed to what Dr. McGrath has called "an 
enterprising program". Indeed, at the New School as at other educa- 
tional institutions, the members of a permanent, resident faculty, 
by the very reason of their close involvement with the institution. 



are an invaluable aid to the overall administration in perceivlng 
new lines of development and in helping them tovard success. 

If I were required to State in one sentence the substance 
of all I have said thus f ar, I think I would put it as follows : 
The establislunent and development of our Graduate Faculty repre- 
sent as brilliant an innovation in adult education - as that con- 
cept is interpreted at the New School and in some measure also by 
Dr. McGrath • as any others yet made or proposed. 

Tbe Füture of the Graduate Faculty 
One of the virtues of the McGrath Report is that it has led 
to an explicit clarification of the Graduate Faculty 's particular 
purposes and functions, indeed^ of its reasons for existence. From 
what I have said thus far it is ceiiiainly clear that I regard the 
Faciilty as an essential part of the New School in the future, as 
in the past, and also as an important contribution to American 
graduate training in general. This does not mean^ of course, 
that we have reasons for complacency, The GF - both in itself 
and in its integration with the rest of the School - is no exception 
to the rule that there is always room for improvement . Like the 
rest of the School we have the constant responsibility of conceming 
ourselves "with the meaning rather than with the mechanics of human 
existence", as Hans Simons has put it, for "This is what adult edu- 
cation can accomplish. Only if it does will it gain distinction and 


• ( 

• . 



significance". In tlie words of T. S. RLiot, "Where is our wlsdom 
which we have lost in knowledge; where is our knowledge vhich we 
have lost in inf ormation? " As a faculty for the training of adults, 
we must do all in our power to counteract the trend tovard memorized 
toowledge and unstructured information. 

But constant improvenent and continuing awareness of mission 
are to be taken for granted. The essential question I have been 
concemed with is whether the Graduate Faculty has a proper place 
within the New School, and to this question I have submitted a 
convinced affirmative answer. Since the reasons for iny conviction 
have been set forth in some detail, it now reinains only to consider 
certain operational problems that I envisage for the Coming years. 

l) One of the most difficult problems regarding the Faculty 's 
fut\ire is the composition of its teacbing staff ^ especially because 
within a few years none of our first members will remain in active 
Service. Clear and far-sighted principles regarding their replace- 
ment have to be established. In this respect I would like to make 
the following observations: 

First, the prestige and significance of any educational Organ- 
ization rest not so mich on its course offerings as on whether it 
provides outstanding, broadly trained teachers who combine expert- 
ness in their fields with an awareness of the responsibilities of 
scholars to society and to the world as a whole. 

• « 

M. .. 


Second, "because of ©ur particular character we need men 
of Personality aad enthuslasm who are able to discover and de- 
velop the interests of the Student s. For the mature Student, 
perhaps even more than for youth, leaming requires independent 
thinking and the acquisitlon not only of Imowledge but also of 
judgment, Our scholars, in other words, must be educators as 
well as scholars, and genuinely interested in the quite different 
hTcnan beings that make up our student body. 

Third, I subscribe to the belief that the Faculty should 
maintain its cosmopolitan character. By this I mean that it 
should continue to include representatives f rom other Western 
nations, for this enables us to introduce into our teaching 
inportant concepts and approaches that tend to be neglected in 
the United States, 

Finally, the new members of the Faculty must be able to vork 
cooperatively with the other units of the School, and able to 
teach effectively in the B.A. program and in the general courses 
of the Schools of Politics and Liberal Arts. It is desirable too 
that they be able to take a stinrulating part in other activities 
of the School, such as the various forums, discussion evenings, 
and luncheons of the'business and labor groups« 

2) Wliere can we find the kind of men we need? On the basis 
of the foregoing considerations I see the following three main 

♦ « 

• . 


sources for our future appointments. 

One is establisbed European scholars. Mainly because of the 
havoc of the Hitler years, this source is not so rieh as it former- 
ly was; moreover, in sone paii^icular fields, especially in economics, 
English and American scholars haVe taken the lead in the development 
of new methods. But there is still a reservoir of men who stand for 
the old Standards of European scholarship, and they are available 
to US especially through the considerable nunibers irho still arrive 
here in refuge f rom the satellite couiitries and f rom universities 
in which scholarly freedom is c\irtailed by political or religious 
persecution. We have had numerous opportunities to acquire promi- 
nent scholars from this source, but - since our original establish- 
ment as the University in Exile - we have mainly been limited, for 
financial reasons, to offering such men temporary positions as 
Visiting Professors, until they found positions elsewhere in the 

A second source of Faculty members lies of course in American 
scholarship. Tliere are many first-class American Professors whose 
general outlook would mal^e them appropriate in our program. I know 
from our Visiting Professors that they are attracted to us by the 
adult level of our students, our integrational approach to the social 
Sciences, and our emphasis on theory as well as on practice. But 
to attract the best of these men we must be able to offer higher 
salaries - I say it frankly. 

• • 

'P . 


And a third bope for replacements is in our ovn former students, 
whose trainin{5 with us makes them iurpatient of the provincialism and 
routine procedures of much present-day College teaching, Some of 
these graduates are \7illing to come back to us even \mder a finan- 
cial sacrifice. 

3) Intrinsically connected vith the problem of personnel re- 
placenient is tliat of the teaching fields to be represented in our 
Faculty: ixliether a particular replacement should be made in the 
same field, or in another - in Short, what areas of study we want 
to represent. I strongly believe that in this matter we should be 
guided only by the needs of our students and the requirements of a 
well rounded course program in the context of other educational units 
of the School, particularly the B.A. program, for which the Graduate 
Faculty will become increasingly responsible. 

As regards the specifically GF curriculum, we have been urged 
by our students to add to our staff an authority on State and local 
goveroment, so tliat they can be equipped to meet the entrance exam- 
inations for govemment service. In our Fhilosophy Department we 
should have someone in the field of Logic, Many of our students 
have had to be advised to go to Columbia or elsewhere for courses 
in Anthropology, a field that certainly belongs in our program. As 
regards our relations with the B.A. program, we urgent ly need, for 
example, a representative selection of courses in History. I mention 
such specific details intentionally, because I feel a responsibility to 

' • 

f . 


indicate the complexity of the problems veshall have to face. 

k) I hope that in the future we can off er more collect ive 
courses and jolnt semlnars , and that we can invite outside scholars 
and other experts to participate in such discussions. Tliis type of 
activif.y is basic to our ideal of integration of the social sciences. 
In this connection I believe it would be highly desirable for instruct- 
ors in the othei-» faculties of the School to be encouraged to attend 
the sessions of our General Seminar. 

5) In m^" opinion we inust in the future organize more systematic- 
ally the opportunities afforded to Faculty members to pursue their 
individual interests ; to concentrate on their own studies, to conduct 
research, and to accept invitations to lecttire at other educational 
institutions. Tliis problem is riet part-way by allowing every perma- 
nent Faculty meraber a sabbatical leave al^ter three years of teaching, 
provided he {^ives an additional course in each of these years, but 
I hope our present system can be supplemented by pennitting an un- 
paid leave of absence in the second part of the fourth year. This 
could be arranged without financial. bürden through agreements with 
foundaticns and also with other universities that would join with us 
in an exchange of scholars. In any educational institution the main- 
tenance of high-caliber scholarship depends v^ry greatly on the possi- 
bility for such periods of study and research and new teaching ex- 

• * 

f . 


6) In line with this need for a variety of teaching experience 
Dr. Simons has advanced a most constructive idea In his Suggestion 
that we institute in our oina Faculty provisions for "roaming scholars" 
from European countries, These would be young men, not yet so mature 
and established as our Visiting Professors. During a year with us 
they could be guided toward an \mderstanding of American approaches 
in tlie social sciences, and in retum they coxild be most helpful to 
our ovn scholars, in both teaching and research. They would thus be 
valuably eq\iipped for subsequent teaching, either with us, if they 
meet our needs, or elsewhere. This system would require a certain 
amount of financing, but it is quite possible that the financial 
Problems it would entail would be mUch smaller than its advantages 
to US in general assistance and as a source of future Faculty members - 
not to mention its^contribution to teacher trainin.^. 

7) Tliis matter of teacher trai ning is an aspect of the Faculty *8 
work that demands more carefu3- thought. It is a subject that is today 
receiving much consideration from foiindations, govemment agencies, 
and official educational administrators, and its importance needs no 
elaboration. What should be stressed here is the Graduate Faculty *s 
Potential role in this field. I should like to mention that my 
comments on this were incorporated in a letter I recently wrote 
to the New York State Education Department in answer to an inquiry 
it sent US in regard to our participation in the new Regent s College 
Teaching Fellowship Program. 



Our Graduate Faculty is uniquely qualified to give the social 
Sciences the dynamic and functional siguificance that can inspire 
those who are to teacli in these fields. It is our principle to teach 
the social sciences not in a departmentalized, specializing way, but 
as a unity. Our pedagogical goal has always been to give the students 
a broad understanding of the facts, not just a catalogue of them, for 
in our opinion the issues in the social sciences as well as in social 
life refer necessarily to the great philosophical issues of mankind. 
What the Graduate Faculty hopes to contribute is an opportunity for 
teachers and teachers in training to acquire an understanding of the 
basic ideas constituting our social heritage, their historical devel- 
opnent, their compatibility or incompatibility with the ideas of 
foreign cultures, their nanifestations in any segi-ent of our social 
World, the interconnectedness of these segments, and - most important 
of all - their meanius and significance. 

On the basis of such a program., future teachers will be able to 
off er their students somethin^ more ir.portant than the transmlssion 
of inf ormation : that is, a glimpse at the rieaning of the life with 
which the new generation will have to corie to terms. In the accom- 
plishment of these goals a most essential factor in our Graduate 
Faculty is the close personal relations that exist between students 
and Professors. 

So much for our qualifications in this field. It is one in which 
we already have achieved outstanding results, and one that should be 
given even nore attention in the future. It is one, too, that is 


• • 



certaln to attract considerable financial support. 

8) The Problem pf teacher training refers not only to those 
who are needed in Colleges and graduate schools but also to those 
vho will teach in adult educational institutions, Here too, good 
teachlng requires leamlng from a good teacher. There is no doubt 
that special educational methods are needed in serving the needs of 
adults, and the New School - because of its long experience, which 
has been a continuous development by trial-and-error experiment - 
could inake a great contribution to education by initiating a fonnu- 
lation of findings. Here the specific role of the Graduate Faculty 
would be to institute a project - with the support of a foundation 
grant for this purpose - that would enlist the collaboration of 
others engaged in adult education (both credit and non-credit) in 
Order to talie stock of experience and present the findings for the 
benefit of everyone who is interested in the development of this 
increasingly inportant field. 

The particular difficulties of dealing with an audience of 
mature men and women, representing many different levels of aptitude 
and background, the different nature of these difficulties in different 
types of courses^ the Solutions that have been found throxigh the years 
to be most productive, the problems that remaln^ and an exploration of 
possible new avenues of development - a responsible study of all 
this would be invaluable, and would be very much in line with certain 
recommendations made in the McGrath Report. The Graduate Faculty is 
notably quallfied to take the lead in such an endeavor. It has been 
dealing with these matters since its Inceptlon. 



9) In View of the character of the Graduate Faculty; the B.A. 
program, and indeed the whole New School, I consider it necessary 
that the GF maintain the cosmopolitan nature of its student body . 
To be svire; our foreign and innnigrant students raise many problemsl 
often they have language diff iculties that at f irst make it hard for 
them to follow the classroom discussions or even to fulfill the read- 
ing requirements; the analytical and logical approach is alien to 
many of them; there are numerous problems of social and cultural 
adjustment. Nevertheless, these students contribute very signifi- 
cantly to the ideals of our institution: our stress on broad under- 
Standing and on awareness of differing points of view. 

Thus reports of the State Departments Immigration Services 
have emphasized our success in helping our foreign-born students 
toward a perception of this country's values and ideals. Through 
special training, both inside and outside the classroom, through 
our stress on personal contacts, through our Provision of guidance 
counselors and our encouragement of international social events, we 
have helped foreign-born and American students to come closer together- 
a development that is perhaps especially important in regard to our 
Asian, Arab, and Israeli students. From this relationship the Faculty 
members as well as the student body have gained. 

10) Finally, I must mention the subject of scholarships and loans . 
These are needed not only for our foreign-born students but also, to 
some extent, for those who come to us from American backgrounds. Much 
has been accomplished in this direction, but the need is still greater 
than our present capacity to meet it. In this context I want to empha- 


size a point that has been made by Dr. Hans Neisser. The social 
stability of the American System is based to a large extent on the 
fact that people of any social origin, regardless of the parent's 
income, are permitted to improve their position in society; to do so 
is largely a matter of education. Our own concern is with those who 
want to extend their education through graduate training, and al- 
though some of these are able to do so by holding a Job by day and 
studying at night, there are others who for reasons of family responsi- 
bility are not able, even with a job, to finance their studies . Thus 
our capacity to provide scholarships and student loans has a doüble- 
barreled significance: it is a nieasure of our contribution toward 
the American ideal of an open society as well as of our contribution 
toward the cross-cultural training of foreign-born students. 

The attached statement from several representative members of 
the Graduate Faculty concern various of the matters I have here 
discussed. To some extent they corroborate my own observations, 
and to some extent they give a different emphasis to what I have 
said, or present further ideas that require exploration. 



iii — B^pi 

Ai^nold Brecht 


Apart from the problems connected with the B.A. program 1 see no 
reaöon vrhy the present pcsition of the G.F. vithin the New School «uid the 
G.F.*s own prof^^ram should be fundamentally changed. 

It is the dual function of the G.F» to provide opportunities of 
graduäte study vithin the broader educational progrcon of the School and by 
its existence and Operations to suggest and guarantee to the public and to 
other universities the higli scholarly Standards that animate the New School 
in all its divlsions. 

I de not see how the G.F. could fulfill this dual function better 
than it has done in the past by adopting any basic change in its Organization 
and/or program. As a matter of course the current programs of the individual 
departments need continuoun attention as to their adequacy; but no basic 
change is required. 

The Library should have raany books that are not available there now, 
But even this defect is not basic. 

The B.A. program seems to me to constitute the only factor that - 
apart from the financial resources - might make a recons iderat ion of the 
Position of the G.F. necessary. This factor is indeed so consequential that 
the G.F. itself cannot afford to ignore it or to shrug it off as a temporary 
disturbance or intrusion. Unless the G.F. should have to off er good reasons 
vhy the plan of the B.A. program had better be dropped in the general interest 
of the School, the G.F. should come forward with proposals how the B.A. pro- 

gram could best be managed to the greatest advantage of the School, and that 

means, at the minimal cost for the graduäte work 



- 2 - 

This, I think, should be worked out in a Faculty committee. The 
commlttee should have the particular task to make proposals regarding the 
best ways and means how the Cooperation of the members of the G.P. in the 
B.A. program could be arranged withoüt a serious disturbance of the G.F. 


More in particular, the coimnittee should examine whether (l) it 

would suffice to leave the Cooperation to the voluntary decision of the 
individual facTilty members or whether (2) it would have to be made obligatory; 
(3) whether the individual faculty member should still be obligated to give 
four weekly hours to graduate teaching so as to limit his or her (voluntary 
or obligatory) Cooperation in the B.A. program proper to two weekly hours; 
(k) whether, if Cooperation be made obligatory, members of advanced age and/or 
Service seniority should be privileged; and (5) whether and how the B.A. 
faculty and the graduate faculty should be combined - in particular, whether 
the G.F. should be represented in the B.A. Faculty by a standing committee 
of the G.F. or by all those members of the G.F. who offer B.A. classes. 

The regulative basis of the deliberations of the G.F. committee 
should be the directive (l) the high Standards of graduate education at the 
school and the remarkably good standing of the G.F. among American graduate 
schools should not be impaired, and (2) that any decision, or even announce- 
ment of deliberations, should be avoided which would tend to make appear the 
celebration of the G.F.*s twenty-fifth anniversary as a funeral service. On 
the contrary, the celebration should be made an occasion for the promotion of 
the reputation of the G.F. as a successful venture füll of vitality and 
future promise. 



Adolph Lowe 

In Order to assess the significance and special functions 
of the Graduate Faculty it is necessary to answer two questions: 

1) Wliat are the special characteristics of this 
particular graduate Institution vhen judged a^ainst 
the background of the prevailing trend of graduate 
education in this country? 

2) How does a graduate division with such characteristics 
fit into the general fraiuevork of an institution like the 
New School which has made *adult education' its central aim? 

Tlie following remarks offer sone conments on both these 
questions. They refrain from going into details of administrative 
and pedagogical reorganization, not because I would dispute the 
desirability of a nvmiber of changes, but because I believe that 
such reOrganization can be defined in operational teiins only after 
agreement has been achieved about the fundamental questions to be 
raised here. 


Tlie educational aim of the Graduate Faculty can best be 
expressed by definin:^ the type of graduates that the Faculty strives 
to produce, For lack of a better term it migl^t be called the type 
of "enlightened specialists." 

Needless to say that the Faculty fully aclmowledges its 
professional responsibility toward its students, who desire training 
which makes tliem fit for conrpetent work in one of the main special- 
ties of the Social Sciences. But the faculty believes that thorough 
professional training is fully compatible with an "integrating" 
appixDach to the specialist subject matter. It trles to bildge the 
gulf which traditionally separates a general liberal arts education 
in College from narrow professionalism in graduate training. It 
Insists on "liumanistic" specieüLization, attempting to make the 
economist, sociologist, political scientist, or psychologist aware 
of the place of his specialty in the whole of social research, and 
of the Channels which connect his partlciilar concems with the work 
of the specialists in the klndred sciences. 

This is the meaning of such institutional arrangements as the 
General Seminar, where Faculty and students meet once a week for the 

- 2 - 

presentatlon and discussion of a scientific paper chosen from any 
field of social research. A large niimber of inteivdepartmental 
Seminars, and the emphasis on minors, especially in the Doctor's 
examination, serve the sane function. In recent years the Faculty 
has even introduced the special degrees of Master and Doctor of 
Social Science, to he awarded to students vho make the integration 
of the social sciences their special concem. 

However, the best institutional arrangements achieve little 
in this field nnless the Instructors themselves are able and willing 
to treat their specialist subject matters in an "integrating " fashion. 
It must be admitted that during the early years of the Faculty 's 
existence, the }iluropean backgroimd of most of its members was a 
great asset for this aspiration. But fortunately their teaching has 
fallen on fei-tile groimd. During the last ten years the Faculty has 
been able to add to its nembers, paiticularly frora its ovn student 
body, increasing nuiibers of yoiinger, native Mericans who share, 
and translate into indisenous terms, the underlying educational 

The second point refers to the Status of the Faculty as 
part of an Institution for Adxi lt Education , Tliis relationship has 
deeply affected the extemal Organization of teaching, the composi- 
tion of the Student body, and even the educational aims. 

Like the other divisions of the Nev School, the Graduate 
Faculty concentrates on evening teaching, confining most of its 
Instruction to the hours from 6 to 10 p.m. This has made it 
possible to attract a student body which differs greatly from the 
conventional clientele of cfcher graduate schools. Ko more than -^ 
of the total are full-time students of "normal" student age. The 
large majori ty consists of mature persons, malnly in the age group 
of 25 to kO, who are engaged in full-time professional work as civil 
servants, teachers, social workers, managers, Office workers, Journa- 
list s, etc. 

Though the Standards for admission to the Graduate Faculty 
are the same as those of other graduate schools, the methods of 
Instruction appropriate to this type of student differ. Since the 
individual student has much to contribute from practical experience 
and from private study, straight lecturing courses are iinknown. Tlie 
procedure varies from case to case, but half the instruction time Is 
usually devoted to intensive class discussion. Though great stress 
Is laid upon intensive reading of pertinent material, there are no 
Standard text books. Class tests are kept to a minimxim, which is 
facilitated by the condition that a special written examination has 
to be passed before a student is admitted to Doctoral Candidacy. 

- 3 - 

This creat flexlbility In the methods of Instruction has by no 
means lowered the p,eueral Standard. All together> it seems that 
the requirements for either degree are, if anything^ stricter than 
in many other graduate schools. Bvidence of this is, e.g., the 
requirement of a Masters Thesis which has to reach the scientific 
level of the average article in a professional joumal. 

It has to be admltted that the part-time character of the 
study of the majority has also its disadvantages. The time span, 
which usually passes until all requirements for a degree are ful- 
filled is thereby extended considerably, Not all students who 
initially register for a degree have the stamina to see the matter 
through to a successful termination, This is one of the reasons 
why the number of degrees awarded is relatively small in relation 
to the average size of a Student bod:,% 

Ho-wever, the main reason for this apparent disproportion lies 
in another direction. It has to do wit]i tlie special educational 
aims vliich many of the students pursue. Having already started on 
a professional career and beins often far advanced in it, many of 
them do not re(:^ister for the purpose of a füll profession- 
al training. Purely scientific interests, the desire to refresh 
and deepen loaoiriedge acquired many years earlier in College or 
other graduate schools, and, in paiticular, the "integrating" 
approach to specialist subject matters are the principal attractions 
for perhaps half of the student body. A minority of these decides 
in the end upon tahing a dagree. But many others attend over years 
courses, participate in seminars, and pursue research projects with- 
out ever wantiiig to fomalize this training. 

It is no exaggeration to say that, in this context, the 
Graduate Faculty is carrying out a unique experiment in adult educa- 
tion. As understood by the New School, the characteristics of adult 
education are tvofold; the coneept of education as a continuing 
process through llfe, and the rel:-iting of instruction to the experience 
and active Cooperation of the student. On the level of general knowl- 
edge and "civics" these principles are heing applied in various insti- 
tutions and in different countries. The Graduate Faculty of the New 
School has, for the first time, extended them to the level of other- 
wise professional education. 

The results are regarded by all faculty members as eminently 
satisfactory. Not only does the intemingling of "professional" and 
"adult" Standards off er a challenge to either group, but it preserves 
a sound balance betwcen "technical" and "general" education. Further- 
more, intercourse with a mature student body provides the instructors 
with a Stimulation, scient5.fic and personal, tliat is difficult to 
achieve in other institutions where wide differences in age and 
experience separate the instinictor from his pupils. 

- k . 

The Graduate Faculty of the New School does not claim 
to have foimd the definite Solution for graduate teaching in 
the Social Sciences, It acknowledges that diversity of methods 
adjusted to the prevailing Student type is, as in all educational 
pursuitö, indispensable. But it believes that its particular 
experiment has demonstrated that, contraiy to widely held prejudices, 
truly Scholar ly Standards are fully compatible with the demands of 
a democratic mode of education. 



Saul Padover 

First, it is my conviction that if a senior College is 
established, the G.F. should be an integral part of it — to 
serve, so to speak, as its backbone. Concretely, I would suggest 
that each G.F.professor be requested to give, annually, 3 types 
of courses: 

1. An elementary, or basic course in his specialty designed 
only for B.A. candidates (Juniors and seniors). Such courses 
might be entitled something like: Principles of Psychology", 
"Principles of Economics", "Principles of Political Science", etc. 
etc. Tliis course should definitely exclude the genereü. public 
(but might be available, with special permission, to graduate 

2. Open course — a continuation of the present type, but 
with more enrphasis on general problems in non-technlcal emphasis: 
to be open only to adults and no credit students. The Dean and 
the Administration should make exception in the case of those G.F. 
Professors who are not specially gifted in teaching simply and 
still precisely to students of this conventional level; such 
Professors could then give an additional Graduate course instead. 

3« Graduate course — as at present. 

So much for the B.A. program. As for the G.F. itself, I 
think that basically it should continue what it is doing now — 
and doing it very well, in my opinion — with one Sharp exception. 
I would like to suggest the possibility of reducing the teaching 
load to two courses per semester and, instead of the third course, 
give tirae (to students) for research. In other words, I believe 
that the time has come — now that we will have Office and libi'ary 
Space -- for us to begin functioning as a real research faculty. 
Specifically, each professor should undertake to guide a selected 
nxanber of graduate students in their research, intellectual, 
methodological, ideological problems. The professor should have 
a right to select his students for this special training — but 
there should be a ceiling on the number of students he is expected 
to handle every year — possibly half a dozen or so. This would 
also mean that each professor wo\ald have definite research hours 
every week, and would be expected to be in his Office where he 
would meet and work with his students. I stiggest two or three 
hours per week, every week during the semester, and the hours to 
be fixed, in the catalog. 




In the case of Professors who have a special grant for some 
projects, I suggest that they be asked to use graduate students 
as apprentices — and get tlie proper credit for it. In other 
words, vhat I am proposing is that the G.F. be changed, to a 
considerable extent, to a research faculty — and be videly 
3mown as such. Students from all over would then knov that 
here we have a graduate school where they can get special train- 
ing, and attention^ in the social sciences. As it is, in most 
of tlie great universities in this country — notably Colxambia, 
Hai'vard, etc. -- it is virtually impossible for a simple graduate 
Student to get to know his professor, let alone work with him 
intimately. Here we have a magnificent opport\inity to serve. 
In addition, by emphasizing research professorships, we could 
get uoney from foundations for research grant s for research 
students, etc. In other words, we should de~emphasize (a little 
bit) teaching and re-enphasize research in the G.F.; while 
reversing the process in the undergraduate program. 




Irvin Bock 

li As the rfesident fac\ilty of tlie New School, the Graduate 
divlsion (together with the projected small nucleus B.A. faculty) 
\T±11 no doubt continue to have the effect of keeping the academic 
Standards of the School as a vhole at the highe st level- 

2, Throu{^h open courses and the like, menibers of the Graduate 
Faculty will continue to reach the general population of our 
Student body, thus participating in the adult education program. 

3« Tlie Graduate Faculty will probably continue to play a very 
important role in the B,A. programs (2 year and h year). The 
New School offerings may, as such^ be insufficient without our 
course offerings - and again as parb of the small resident 
faculty - t!ie students will no doubt continue to come to us 
for guidance, thesis work^ etc. 


I ara not sure what is F-eant. If this means "how I conceive 
of the function of the Graduate Faculty as a graduate school in 
America during the next 10 years", I would say; 

1. To provide graduate training of the highest caliber in the 
social Sciences in one of the wo ld*s iiost important eitles of 
a kind not available elsewhere in the area. 

2» To provide a model of graxiuate training whlch by its policies 
and practices will play an important role in the way graduate train< 
ing develops throughout the country. One may list factors such as: 




Integration of the Social Sciences. 

stress on understanding and creative thinking rather 
than mere abso-^tion of knowledge, 

Opposition to certain dangerous trends such as: 

overly large classes (or worse, teaching by TV) 
selection of students primarily by grades on tests 
which are themselves questionable^ etc. 

3. A forum for points of view which otherwise might die out by 
exclusion^ e.g. Gestalt Psychology, Riilosophical Phenomenology. 


Alfred Schutz 

A. The Graduate Faculty's Ovii Function Within the New School 

1) According to repeated Statements of the President and other members 
of the Adininii3tration, the New School considers adult education as its main 
purpose. It has been, and will prohably continue to be, the policy of the 
School to enlarge and integrate the adult education program to the effect 
that such much-needed facilities are offered on any level of studies. Within 
the frame of such an integrated program which will include a B.A. Senior 
night College^ the G.F. vrill have to assume new pedagogical responsibilities. 

(a) It can be assumed that the curriculum of the B.A. College and 
the courses offered by the G.F. will be integrated to such an extent 
that many courses of the G.F. are accessible and eligible for credit 
within the B.A. program. This does nob merely refer to the so-called 
"basic courses". It is imaginable that other courses also can be 
profitabiy followed by mature and Scholar ly advanced B.A. students . 
Of course, a wise selection both of the G.F. courses eligible for 
such purposes and of admissible students will be necessary. This 
requires on the one hand, the compilation of lists of text-books 

and other literature which the students in question will have to 
study before being admitted to a non-basic G.F. coui-se - they might 
perhaps have to pass an oral or written examination - and, on the 
other hand, intesified individual counseling of the B.A. student. 
If such a program can be established two advantages will result: 
(i) The cui^riculum of the B.A. Senior College program will, without 
further expense, be enlarged and integrated, and (ii) the G.F. will 
have attracted a body of i^ell-trained B.A. students who want to con- 
tinue graduate work with the School. 

(b) The G.F., or at least some selected members of each department 
could (and I think should) participate in the pedagogical activities 
of the B.A. Senior College in addition to the offering of courses 
within the frame of this College and in addition to the suggestions 
made under (a). They should be at the disposal of the instructors 
but also of the students of the B.A. College in order to counsel 
with respect to particular problems of a scholarly nature, with 
which advanced or more ambitious B.A. students might be concerned. 

It might perhaps also be considered to organize for the B.A. students 
(in addition to the General Seminar) discussion evenings - say, 
once a month - in which, for example, B.A. students majoring in 
Sociology, Sociology instructors within the B.A. program, and members 
of the Sociology Department of the G.F. (but neither graduate students 
nor Outsiders) would participate. (Sociology is just an example; 
discussions should be organized in any other field also, but it 
seems that for this particular purpose only students and instructors 
of the same discipline should meet). 


- Page 2 . 

(c) Some carefully selected courses within the B.A. program 
could be conducted by members of the G.F. These would be 
required courses for B.A. students but also giving credit to 
graduate students. Exainples: Integration of the Social Sciences; 
Logic and Methodology; Introduction to Philosophy; The American 
Scene in Kconomics and Politics (institutions); International 
Politics and Economics and the American Citizen. 

2) The future Student body of the G.F. will probably consist of the 
following categories: 

(a) B.A. graduates who want to continue post-graduate work with 
US. Some of our best students (e.g. Miss Brandt, Mr. D. Feldman) 
are products of the B.A. program, rudimentary as it has been up 
to no'.r. 

(b) Students, having finished their luider- graduate work years ago 
elsewhere and being desirous to obtain an advanced credit, although 
they have an occupation during the day-time. 

(c) Students who are interested in a particular field of advanced 
learning vrhich they did not study in College but approached by 
private reading or other\'7isc. In the experience of the writer these 
are tho raost interesting and promising students. They may not have 
the arabition to obtain a degree but collect credit requirements 
over the years in the hope of accumulating in the coiirse of time the 
necessary credits . It is especially for this group of students that 
the G.F. fulfills an iri-eplaceable function. I might be permitted 
to quote the case-history of some students who attended my seminar 
on Applied Sociological Theory last Spring: Two well-established 
practical lawyers, one studying economics with us, the other just 
interested in problems of sociology; a doctor of medicine interested 
in the sociological aspect of doctor-patient relations; a former 
Student of ours who had to Interrupt his studies for material 
reasons, became a well-to-do salesman and returns now to his old 
lüve; a suburbanite lady, mother of two teenagers, ardently interes- 
ted in church work and feeling that she needs some insight into the 
social Sciences in order to avoid dillettantismj a retired business 
man, formerly Student of the University of Vienna, who wants to • 
resume his scientific interests; a B.A. graduate of our School, 
housewife, mother of tm children, banl^-teller who wants to 
accumulate the necessary credit for a master over the years; etc. etc. 
I am sure that any of our colleagues could off er a similar list. 

It is certainly a main task for an Institution dedicated to adult 
education to give students like the forementioned the opportunity 
to do graduate work. 

(d) Students of other G.F. Faculties who find in our G.F. 
catalogue specialties not offered elsewhere. (l had in some of 


- Pa^e 3 - 

my courses students from N.Y^U., Columbia, Fordham, L.I. 
University, and even commuters from the University of 
Pennsylvania) . 

^' ^fag Graduate Faculty Within the Gradiiate Tea ching During the Next Decade 

" ' " " ' ■ ' ' ' ' I III II H ill — ^— — 

As to this question I beg to refer to the memorandian submitted some 
time ago, relating to The Scope and Function of a Philosophy Department 
Within the Graduate Faculty. I feel that the Statements in this memo- 
randum relating to the particular contribution of our G.F. within the 
graduate teaching in our country are still valid. 

The only thing I have to add is the following: Many of the original 
members of the G.F. had to retire, others will have to retire very soon, 
and it can be saf ely assumed that at the end of the decade none of the 
original members of the teaching staff will still be working. In view of 
the carefül selection of new members, I do not fear that the G.F. will 
not be in the Position to continue its specific contribution to G.F. 
studies aö outlined in the aforementioned memorandum. I fear, however, 
that it will be rather difficult to find first-class teachers for our 
G.F. under the prevailing salary and working conditions. 

Coinment on the Report 


Prepared under the auspices of the Fund for the 
Advancement of Education 

Alfred Schutz 

To ny mind, our School offers the following advantages for 
the tralninß of assistant-teachers: 

1. As pointed out before, most of the pre-requisltes 
postulated by the Repo:d: for the education of "teacher-scholars " 
are long-established principles of our educatlonal policy and 
have not to be brought about by a re-arranging of methods and 

2. Not only the coinpositlon of our Student body but also 
of the teacjiin^ staff of our Faculty Warrants a class-room 
atmosphere which gives the teaching assistant frora the outsef 
the opportunity of intellectual gro\rth so well described by the 
Report as a characteristic of good College teaching. 

3. Our B.A. Procram is better fitted for the training of 
teaching assistant s than the normal imdergraduate division. This 
is so because the ciajority of our students in the B.A. Program 
are mature persons who compel the instructor to use the greatest 
care in the Organization and delivery of his lectures and to 
answer well-founded questions during the discussion periods. 

h. Even in our graduate courses particular assignments for 
teaching assistants in well-ciicumscribed fields and under con- 
tinuous supeivision of the pennanent instructor who has to remain 
responsible for both the conduct of the course and the training 
of the assistant, can be worked out without any major change in 
our policy. I shall gladly malie specific suggestions to thls 
effect if you wish me to do so. 

The main difficulty in carrying out this idea is, of course, 
the financial problen. We cannot expect that a young man, ea^er 
to Start his career, should spend one or two years longer than is 
indispensibly req\iired before he starts to eam money. Many of 
my students have told me that their ideal would be to go into 
teaching but that they have to make a living even while studying 
with US. You, yourself, will Icnow of ©everal cases in which adminis- 
tration and faculty have tried in vain to off er to ceirtain students, 
who had all the gifts required for teaching, an opportunity to 
continue their work with us but could not find the necessary funds 

• 2 - 

for granting them a modest corrpensation for their work. On the other 
hand, ßome of our ßtudents vho Joined other universitles as instructors 
or lecturers, yere highly successful although they had not recelved, 
whilst wlth US, a training as teachers. They had, however, the 
necessary background for teaching their special topic, within the 
liorizon of a "tmity of knovledge, without vhich all specia3.ization 
becomes fragmentation". 

Only recently the Head of a Department in one of the major 
Westem \miversities, who appointed one of our students as an 
instructor, vrote me as follows: "One of our students, Mr. S., 
is vith US this year and has made an excellent impression, testi- 
fying not only to his ovn ability, but to the nerits of the training 
he has received from you. Ship any more such products tlais way 
prompt ly". 

Do you not think that \re could do a far better job if we were 
in a Position to offer to some selected graduate students of ours 
an appropriate training as teacher-assistants? I knov, in my 
department alone, of at least three students who would be worthy 
and enthusiastic candidates. 




it I I I <IH 

Alfred Schutz 

A. The Particular Contribution of the Graduate Faculty to the 
Teaching of the Social Sciences . 

We have to start with an analysis of this preliminary question 
because it will prove of particular significance for o\ir main Prob- 
lem. It seems that three factors determine the special approach of 
the Graduate Faculty to the teaching of the social sciences, and 
enable it to fulfill its unique function: first, its unique Posi- 
tion among other academic institutions of equal rank; second, the 
composition of its teaching staff ; and third, the composition of 
its Student body. 

1. The Faculty*s position among other institutions. 

0?if faculty cannot offer our students certain advantages 
that they might find at other institutions: 

a) Oui' teaching staff is small, and inany Standard courses in 
the curriculi^ms of other universities, especially those 
dealing with the applied social sciences and their methods- 
are not given by our Faculty. 

b) In certain departments the opportunities for laboratory 
work are limited. 

c) Opportunities for training Student groups in carrying out 
research projects are limited. 

d) Library facilities are limited. 

In these respects and many other s oxrr Faculty should not 
try to compete with Columbia, New York Univers ity, Fordham, 
and sjjnilar institutions. 

But on the other hand, we off er our students an approach to 
the social sciences which they will hardly find elsewhere: 

a) We do not impose a rigid study program on them, but try 

to shape the curriculum for each graduate Student in accor- 
dance with his individual interests and needs. 

b) Each member of the teaching staff is available for the 
Student *s advica and guidance to a much greater extent 
than in other institutions; the customary textbook System 
is thus replaced by a kind of personal tutorship. 

c) The unique educational advantage we have to off er is that 
we are teaching the social sciences as a faculty , that 
is, on the interdepartmental basis. Our ''departments" 


- Page 2 - 


are merely administrative \inits. We are convinced that 
the study of himan affairs is only possible within the 
unif ied field of the social sciences in their totality, 
not within a particular discipline alone; and that this 
principle applies even to scientific inquiry into very 
concrete problems . Elsewhere it is possible to study 
social psycho logy without sociology, sociology Without 
the history of ideas, government without political philo- 
sophy^ economics without reference to the other disciplines; 
but Graduate Faculty students become aware of the social 
sciences as an integrated whole. 

In nearly all of our co\irses special emphasis is laid on 
Problems of theory and the theoretical approach. It seems 
to the present writer that the teaching of theoretical 
thinking in the social sciences is the foremost educational 
contribution of the Graduate Faculty to the study of human 
affairs on the graduate level. Twenty years ago this was 
a unique contribution, and it remains a specialty of our 
teaching that is highly appreciated by our students even 
, waen the need for "basic research" in the social 

sciences as well as in the physical sciences is slowly 
winning rccognition at other institutions . A gratif ying 
proof of the truth of this Statement is the fact that many 
st^idents from other universities enroll in our Graduate 
Faculty for the specific purpose of attending one or two 
of our purely theoretical courses, which they cannot find 
at their own institutions. 


2. Composition of the staff of the Graduate Faculty, 

Our teaching of the social sciences as an integrated whole, 
and our emphasis on theory, have been made possible by the 
fact that nearly every member of our teaching staff is not coripetent in his "departmental" field proper, but also 
conversant by training, inclination and scientific conviction 
v;ith the study of human affairs frora a universal vantage 
point - the vantage point of the theoretical, of the anticipa- 
tion of later conclusions, of the philosophical approach. 

3. Composition of the student body. 

This particular approach became successful because of the 
special structure of our student body. Most of them are mature 
men and women, from many walks of life, who know from experience 
how limited is all insr'.ght into human affairs which is restricted 
to the mere practical level. Most of them take up their graduate 
studies at considerable personal sacrifice, often in addition to 
a full-time Job. Their raain motive is their desire to learn the 
deeper reasons why the social world is what it is. They are 
mature enough to acquire in formation on data and facts by reading 
a textbook; they want, howeVer, something more than information, 

namely knovleuge - that 


the disclosiire of the central points 


. Page 3 - 


from which the particular facts that they are concerned about 
beconie transparent and xinderstandable . Their intellectual 
curlosity incites them to look for the place that their par- 
ticular Problem has in the total Situation of our society, 
and to find out how the particular features of our society 
are interrelated with the destiny of "man, mutable and im- 
mutable". Any help offered in this respect, any tool pro- 
posed for the Solution of questions of this kind, is accepted 
by our students with enthusiasm. 

In other words, what our students want is the philosophical 
enlichteniaent of human affairs; philosophical, that is, in 
tenns of a method and a way of life - the "theoretical life". 
This is precisely what has been understood under the name of 
" theoria " since the beginnin/5 of philosophy in the ancient 
V7crld. ffnd in this respect our students' needs and the 
particular aims of our teaching staff meet in the happiest 

On the other band, the very fo.ct that our students are of 
quite auother type and bacliground than young College men who 
just want to continue their Studie s by postgraduate work in- 
volves a considerable setback. As far as scholarly background 
is concerned our Student body is by no means homogeneous . 
Their knowledge is frequently not integrated. Some of them 
left College years ago, and have forgotten vrtiat little insight 
was then offered to them into human affairs - even that little 
often having consisted merely of imposed reading of an under- 
graduate textbook. For a teaching System that exphasizes the 
theoretical and philosophical approach, this unevennesss in the 
preparation of the stuäenb material is a particular handicap, 
and special teaching methods must be provided in order to over- 
come this obstacle. 

The Role of the Dep artment of Philosophy Within the Educational 
Scope of'The^Gradua'te Fuculty. 

If the preceding analysis is correct, it leads to the result 
that the teaching of the theoretical approach to the social 
Sciences as an integrated field is not only the unique contribu- 
tion which the Graduate Faculty can and does make to the System 
of higher education, but also the Faculty 's very raison d'etre. 
It follows, furthermore, that both these special goals of the 
educational program of the Graduate Faculty - the insight in 
the Integration of the sociaJ. sciences and the theoretical 
treatraent - can be achioved only by founding them on a basic 
philosophy. This does not mean in any way that some particular 
school of thought in philosophy must be selected and taught 
as the center and starting point. VThich particular philosophy 
should be chosen is a question for the responsible student's 
personal decision, and no teacher of philosophy can do more than 
Show his students what the choices are and what implications each 
choice has . 

- Page k - 

The Student does have to leam, however, that the social 
Sciences did not start vith liis thinking on human affairs, 
or with that of his teachers*. He must learn that the whole 
process of inquiry occurs within a great tradition, that 
our actual Problems are new only as to their shape, and as 
üld as man]:ind in their substance. He has also to learn 
that, in Dewey's words, all inquiry occurs within a given 
social matrix, and that for this very reason philosophy it- 
self is a social science -- perhaps the social science from 
i/hich all the other disciplines originate. He has also to 
understand that philosophy io involved, explicitly or im- 
plicitly, in all human affairs that he may study; and that the 
social scientist depends upon philosophy in his" endea vors to 
a far greater e:ctent than does the physicist, who studies the 
nuclear structure of matter regardless of whether this leads 
to the atomic bomb or to cancer research, or the chemist, 
whose Compounds are medicine in the hands of the healer and 
poison in those of the mui-derer. 


'N ( 


Howard White 

The New School Stands for Progressive Education and the 
liberal tradition« It has definite ideas about shared experience, 
experimentation, teacbing the vhole personality, academic freedon, 
and a willed Suspension of judgement* It has a goal, but, to me, 
not always a very clearly defined one. 

The other Ne\7 School is that of the Iftiiversity in Exile. It 
also has a definite comniitinent to academic freedom, and its original 
menibers^ and some others, testified to that conmitment by generous 
action as vell as by noble speech. It has a common political heritage 
with the other New School. It has, however, a very different intellec- 
tual heritage, It has from the beginning testified to its conviction 
that political unoirthodoxy was not enough; that there must be intellec- 
tual unoiiihodoxy as well. 

In this coimtr^'* today, in spite of McCarthy, political unorthodoxy 
is not really difficiilt. A reputable publisher added to his list a 
book by Alger Hiss. 

Intellectual unorthodoxy, however, is extremely difficult. A 
book of essays by a truly great scholar, Kurt Riezler, with promise 
of a Subvention, has been repeatedly refused not only by that same 
publisher but also by a whole galaxy of others. 

The Graduate Faculty Stands today, I believe, for intellectueuL 
unorthodoxy, It should be its first task to do what it can to see 
that the New School, wliich is a larger institution, and, for that . 
very reason, less likely to have a common and well-defined goal, 
Stands also for intellectual unorthodoxy. But no serious man has 
ever been unorthodox m.erely for the sake of unorthodoxy. He had to 
believe that there was some reasonableness in his paiticular unor- 
tliodoxy. It seems to me that the Graduate Faculty Stands for what 
has to socie extent always been and in this country istecoming 
decisively unorthodox: the western intellectual heritage. Let me 
repeat, the Graduate Faculty does not stand for this heiltage because 
it is unorthodox, or because it is western, or, even, except margin- 
ally, because it is its own,but because it believes it to be ilght. 
Wliat that has meant to the Facxilty, it seems tone, and what it must 
mean in the future, can best be summarized by enumerating five pf „its_ 
principal characteristics : 

- 2 - 

1. A decisive reluctance to specialize. In tenns of 
the past, I do not think that this Statement requires proof . The 
Geneiol Seminar has teen treated to thrilling papers: an anniver- 
sary paper on Mozart by a philosopher and sociologist, a paper on 
phenomenology in the social sciences by an economist, a philosopher *s 
discussion of the social psychology of modern revolution, an economist's 
discussion of the Integration of the social sciences, a sociologist 's 
discussion of Balzac, and so on. With regard to the future, the 
Faculty should do what it can to retain this tradition. It will 

not be easy. As I have noted in committee meetings, the conception 
of political science, as it is observed in the Graduate Record 
E::arülnation, is that political science ia American Government with 
a few appendages, Tliat means not only specialization but also pro- 
vincialism. In this respect we must share the commencement Speaker 's 
goal: we want to educate the whole man, but the whole of his mind, 
not the whole of his "personality", whatever that may mean. Today 
t]ie Solution to this problem becomes increasingly coraplex« We have 
to have major and minor requirements, often very stringent ones, 
The necessity for intellectual discipline conpels us to do so. And 
the competition for student Jobs compels the student to accept that. 
However, pape'os such as those I mentioned have their counterparts in 
courses where the various disciplines have explored and must explore 
interdisciplinary lines. Tlie Faculty might explore whether such a 
program could be enlarged. Otherwise we run the danger that what 
was once merely desirable becomes a grin necessity. A decisive 
reluctance to specialize me^ms to help tum out the graduate who 
is not merely a specialist, for a specialist is someone who leaves 
the ends to someone eise, and as Kurt Riezler says, "There are no 
specialists for ends". 

2. Pn essentially non-utilitarian prespective. Such a 
perspective can be defended either on utilitarian or on non-utilitarian 
gioimds. I cannot here explore that question. When I was a boy, I 
read something by Woodsxjw Wilson to the effect that Colleges should 
not teach students merely to become skilled masters of trades. I 
have not seen the piece since, but, from what I recall, it seems to 

be a description of what* the New School does. Rather, what Wilson 
recommended seemed to me to be what we are trying to do. When I 
was a Student here, I think no faculty member and no student worried 
about which courses were good for placement purposes and which were 
not. No one was afraid to have his transcript crowded with the 
"useless" things. To some extent that has had to be modified. We 
have to meet placement needs part way. We have to keep in mind 
always that expression "part way" and malie quite sure that we are 
not going to surrender to those needs. We must show that there is 
a school and a graduate faculty in the social sciences that is not 
afraid, that is proud to teach the "useless "things. Thus we must 


- 3 - 

heavily enrphasize "theory", in the many different and even con* 
fllctlng meanings of that word. Beyond that, it is hard to say 
Just what things should be stressed, outside of my third charac- 
teristlc^ to wliich I now turn. 

3. A regard for the historic role of a culture, Once 
agaln, I should not like here to consider the problem of the 
respect in which a historic tradition helps us in terms either 
of thoußht or action. It is enough to say here that for thought 
and action, you need all the help you can get from the knowledge 
of the thought and action upon which you are dependent. Wlien I 
vas a Student, the Graduate Faculty first made me avare that the 
sensitivity and the concem of the student vas not something unique, 
soEiething that began vith himself , his Professors or their imne- 
diate precurso?rs: Marx or Freud or the Founding Fathers. Tiiey 
taught me that the Problems we hungered to solve were the problems 
of men, and that men of the remote past might help us in solving 
those Problems. Access to that remote past becomes in our ovn 
time, iucreasingly difficult. In the schools and Colleges of 
this coiintry, as far as I know, it is becoming easier every year 
to leam Russian and hai^er every year to leam Greek. Yet, vhile 
the Secretary of State can find experts to translate the Russian 
documents for him, he would be a better Secretary of State if he 
could read Tljucydides in the original, or so it seems to me. 

It seems to me that botli the Graduate Faculty and 
the. B.A. College musb strengthen their case by the insistence on 
vhat is to be leamed from the past. With all due respect to 
Russian, ve should prefer Greek to Russian, the best thought to 
the most imioinent thought, and the most instructive experience 
to the exi;erience that happens to be our ovn. We should transcend 
vhatever liappens tobe American in the interest of whatever happens 
to be human. I am sure that members of the Facuity irill disagree 
as to just vhat is most to be leamed from'the great tradition. 
I feel certain that they will ogree that the great tradition is 
not something blithely to be kissed good-bye. 

h, A belief that a horizon is necessary for all political 
arid social action. Here, particularly, the New School Stands out. 
It has as far as I Imow, the indoctrination of the individual 
instructor, as long as it was not on the narrow level of partisan- 
ship. Tlie New School has been non-partisan without belng lethargic - 
that is one of its higliest Claims. If certain depai'tments in 
American universities should go all the way in escheiTing indoctrina» 
tion - and, particularly among the social sciences, that may happen, 
and may be happening, the New School must point out that that is a 
form of indoctrination. To say that a man who thinks and acts polit- 
ically and socially must have a horizon does not mean that he must 
have a party or even a "cause". I realize that the distinction is 
often tenuous. But a horizon implies not a passion-oriented conviction 


. h . 

but an \mrelenting study of the philosophical aad historical 
alternatives, and a careful and rational selection from among 
those alternatives. In the selection of its offerings, its ad- 
vice to Student s, its Social Research articles and General Seminar 
Papers, tlie Faculty can serve the public, in general, and the New 
School, in partictilar, by insisting, as it has in the past, on the 
distinctions between better and worse, more serious and less serious, 
and so on. This may sovind, as I suspect it does, rather fuzzy. It 
is not easy to implement it outside of the context of specific 
probleris. Wliy does a man like Dulles lack a horizon? Because he 
does not liave enough philosophy, enough history, enough awareness 
of alternatives, enoxigh care, enough wonder, enough intellectual 
curiosity to give him some awareness of alternatives. It should 
be the role of the Graduate Faculty to make sure it does not 
give degrees to any future John Foster Dulleses, be they Merican, 
Geiinan, Iranian, or what have you. 

5. A belief in the primacy of politics. I am aware that 
this point will not be accepted by most of my colleagues. Just the 
sarae it is pait of what I have leamed from the New School and the 
Graduate Faculty, and what the New School and the Graduate Faculty 
mean to me., the Faculty, from its inception, has testi- 
fied to this concept. First of all, the Faculty was founded out 
of certain political conceptions as to the rcle of scholarship in 
a political world. Those conceptions were heroic, but even those 
of US who, wfiether because of our own limitatlons or through want 
of opportunity, have never döne anything very heroic, may subscribe 
to them. In addition, the original faculty testified to the prima- 
cy of politics when they nade the name of the Faculty a Graduate 
Faculty of "Political and Social Science". If that means something, 
and I think it does, it means that the very question of whether 
there will be a social science or not is a political question. It 
means that the great political decisions of man, like the decisions 
in foreign policy, are more imporbant than any individual questions. 
T}ie Faculty ought then, in tlie next ten years, to stress the politi- 
cal Problems : how should men live, under what regime should they live, 
and so on. The Faculty ought to put the very concept of democracy 
under a microscope and examine its Claims with the enlarged Vision 
of philosophy, history, and social science, to see whether it can 
slow the Steps to conformity, or diminish the temptations of modern 
social science to become mere servants of the existing regime. 
Such vital questions as to what role the social scientists can, and 
should, play in goveniment and business must be faced in terms of a 
fearless confrontation of the question as to what our political and 
social life should be. This is a question which the univorsities 
in general are poorlye[iuipped to face, because they have spent too 
much time creating skilled masters of trades. A Faculty, however. 


- 5 - 

which Imovjs that there are no specialists for ends may face 
them. It shoiild be our task, ahove all, to ask how far the 
political future itself inay demand an attention to the "useless" 
tbings . 











JUNE 4-6, 1958 





t \ 





^rBSj^^nS^^ 'tS£^£u 

"va^- •- 

THEODOR HEUSS, President of the Federal Republic 
of Germany, who will pay a State visit to Washington 
June 4th to 6th and then tour the United States. 







FROM JUNE 4th to 6th. 



A recent drawing of PRESIDENT THEODOR HEUSS 
of the Federal Republic of Germany by Hans Kallmann 
of Munich. President Heuss will visit Washington June 4th 
to 6th at the invitation of President Eisenhower. The 
German President will then spend two weeks touring the 
United States. 




Unlike the President of the United States, the German Federal President is not 
head of the executive branch of the Federal Government. He is, rather, the guardian 
of the Constitution; he reconciles and mediates between the legislative, judicial and 
executive branches of the government. The Federal President is helped in this 
function by the fact that his term of office (five years) does not coincide with that of 
the legislature (four years). 






ANSTÄNDIGE theodorheuss 








.SMftk.. .ü^.° 



This Pamphlet has heen prepared in honor of the 
visit of German Federal President Theodor Heuss 
to the United States and Canada^ June 1958. 


President of the Federal Republic of Germany 

Copyright 1957 by Intercultural Publicadons, Inc. 

IN TUE fall of 1946 an xVmerican commlsslon con- 
sisling of government officials, educators, and 
scientists toured Germany. (I have a particu- 
larly vivid memory of the striking personality of 
Reinhold Niebuhr, the theologian, who was a mem- 
ber of the group.) The object of these men and 
women was to survey the German intellcctual sccne 
in general, and the Status of educational institu- 
tions in particular. Thcy hoped to learn what these 
institutions had been in the past, what Nazism had 
done to them, and what lasting efTects had rcsultcd 
from the stern or benevolent attempls of U.S. edu- 
cation officers to instill new vitality into German 
pedagogy. I took part in the candid convcrsations 
between the Americans and their German opposile 
numbers, and thought (hat llie talks had certainly 
served a usefui piirpose. For theo\Trsimplifica(ions 
of political Propaganda had created on hnh sides 
misunderstandings which could bc at least partly 
clearcd up by personal meetings. 

Several weeks later the detailed report appeared, 
and copies of it were made available to German 
educators — I was at that time Minister of Educa- 
tion for Baden-Württemberg. In the introduction 

Theodor Heuss, President of the Federal Republic of 
Germany since 19J^9y is a Journalist, a scholar, and a man 
of letters. Professor Heuss was born in Württemberg in 
IS84, and after taking his doctorate at Munich in 1905 
became the ediior of a number of well-knoirn Journals. Jfe 
has since served as a university lecturer in Berlin, as a 
de put y in the Reichstag of the Weimar Republic, and as 
Minister of Education and Vultural Affairs of the federal 
.Stute of Raden-Württemberg after World War II. Ue is the 
author of many political and literary works, including the 
autobiographical Prelude to Life, which has been published 
in translation in this country. 

I Game across a sentence which statcd in cfTect: 
*' After the Grecks and Romans, the Germans his- 
torically have Mavished' [this was the very expres- 
sion used] their talents most liberally for the benefit 
of the intellcctual life of other nations." It Struck 
me as an extremely generous comment — for we 
must remcmber when this was written, what dia- 
bolical horrors had taken place in the recent past, 
and what " psychological warfare" had done to 
people's minds. 

At the time I was rather moved by this State- 
ment. Not that I was pluming myself on its justice; 
but I was gladdencd by the handsome impartiality 
of the members of the American commission, who 
were after all addressing their own countrymen. 
Yet I also wondored how true it was, and how my 
pe()[)le would takc it. I could imaglne them saying: 
'* Vou see, even the Americans apprcciate us now." 
Another considcration added to my uneasiness: that 
prarsc of others might slimulate the natural vanity 
which is by no means pcculiar to the Germans. 
IIow often the Germans have quoted the epithet 
coined by young Lord Bulwer who was so impressed 
by German classical literature and German ideal- 
islic philosophy that he called the Germans "the 
people of poets and thinkers." Even bad poets and 
lame thinkers have taken this judgment as sanction 
for their efforts. 

Why do I cite these comments by way of preface 
to a considcration of the *' German mentality"? 
They are intended to mark limits beyond which it 
is not possible to go in defining the German men- 
tality as a perennial hislorical phenomenon, or in 
interpreting its contemporary expressions. In such 
matters no valid formulas exist. To be surc, history 
recognizes a few cases of nations which manifest 
themselves as intellcctual and spiritual unitics. But 

few who really know America, for example, are 
salisfied with attempts to portray a definitive type 
of '*the American," in spite of the more consistent 
rhythm that may be observed in that country as 
the result of 450 years of opening up a continent, 
settling it, and developing it at a tremendous pace. 
The Situation is inevitably the same for the Ger- 
mans. Those same Germans who were once epito- 
mized as"poets and thinkers" (thephrasedatesfrom 
1837) were noted a few decades later as chemists 
and physicists whose scientific achievements quickly 
brought practica! benefits (Liebig, Bunsen, Siemens, 
Röntgen, etc.). In 1864, 1866, and 1870-71 the 
same people won several wars with speed and 
eclat, and promptly became fascinated with mili- 
tary glory as nations are so apt to do. In the minds 
of the rest of the world the Germans became the 
bellicose nation — a reputation formerly, in the 
ages of Louis XIV and Napoleon I, accorded to the 

"The German,** assuming for the present that he 
exists, appears more complex and inexplicable to 
himself and to other nations because his history is 
more complicated than that of other nations. This 
is especially true of its poHtical aspects. The com- 
plexities do not so much lie in differences among the 
various " Stocks,*' which in spite of different dialects 
have had to develop a sense of Hnguistic and po- 
litical unity. Howevcr, the various regional and 
tribal traditions could be preserved and, if they ap- 
pcared threatened, could be cherishcd. Similar 
situations exist in other European nation-states: in 
England we have the Scotsman and Kentish man, 
in France the Breton and Provenyal, in Italy the 
Piedmontese and Sicilian, in Spain the Basque and 
the Catalän, each with his own special atmosphere. 
Of course the same is true when we say: the Saxon 
and the Bavarian, the Pomeranian and the Swabian. 
But in Germany there is another dement : the in- 
ternal territorial divisions have lingcrcd longcr than 
anywhere eise. 

[he comparison has often been drawn between the 
unifications of Italy and Germany. Both became 
programs of action and were carried to success in 
the period between 1848 and 1871; both trans- 
formed the face of Europe. But despite the super- 
ficial parallels, their results differed in the extreme. 
"Nationalism,'* a concept invented during the 
French Revolution *s defensive struggles, and swiftly 
perverted into an ideological Camouflage for **im- 
perialism," took profound hold upon the minds of 
the Italian pcx)ple. This was all the more so since 
some of the petty states had little reason for being, 
and some were under foreign rule. In the course of 
German history, too, some of the smaller sovereign 
States were absorbed by Prussia, thereby assuring 
Prussian hegemony. But Cavour had found in 

Garibaldi (troublesome as this populär military hero 
and romantic spirit was to him at times) the man 
who could make unification an exploit to stir the 
imagination. Bismarck had no such symbolic figure, 
and if a German Garibaldi had knocked at his door, 
he would probably have had him arrested. 

The outcome was thfl t the German Reich founded 
in 1870-71 was set up as a league of sovereign 
princes, supplemented by several long-established 
republican city-states. In Italy, on the other band, 
the House of Piedmont-Savoy won dominion over 
a unified State, and all the other ruling families or 
sovereign political units (like the onetime Papal 
States) withered away. 

We may consider this retention of local auton- 
omies in Germany, some quite large and some very 
small, as of secondary importance. For the tre- 
mendous internal migration resulting from rapid 
industrialization threw together the peoples of dif- 
ferent origins and regions. But the dynasties re- 
mained, with their peculiar sets of emotional values. 
They had their courts which carried on certain 
established traditions (to this day the stability and 
decentralization of Germany 's musical and theat- 
rical life derives from this heritage). Differences in 
tone persisted in the various bureaucracies, in the 
municipal govemments. 

But of greater significance was the total diversity 
of the fundamental political structure, as reflected 
in the various electoral laws. In planning for the 
Reich he was building, Bismarck in 1866-67 had 
followed the example of Napoleon III in introduc- 
ing or permitting universal, equal, secret, and direct 
sufTrage. This was conceived as a weapon against 
the multinational Hapsburg Monarchy, which nec- 
essarily viewed democratic suffrage as a threat to 
the feudal order and an invitation to nationalistic 
Separatist movements. But the Prussian State 
legislature, the Landtag, was still elected under a 
suffrage law imposed by decree of 1849. Who had 
the right to vote was determined on the basis of 
taxation, and the vote was both public and indirect. 
The masses of the people and the lower middle class 
had no representation. These State legislatures, 
moreover, were dominant in the spheres of finance, 
police power, justice, and education. During the 
years 1917 and 1918, when the government had 
already recognized the signs of the times, the Prus- 
sian agrarian conservatives and some shortsighted 
and selfish industrialists fought passionately, like 
ghosts out of the past, against the democratization 
of political institutions. By so doing they only fed 
the fires of the revolutionary temper antagonistic 
to the State. 

These intricacies are not easy to grasp. The idea 
that the "German Emperor" was also "King of 
Prussia" could not but be confusing. If the foreign 
observer looked to the German political theorists for 
enlightenment, he would find himself unable to de- 
cide what aspects of their own state they themselves 

preferred to stress. Did they favor the rational efli- 
eiency of administration which characterized the 
"spirit of the Prussian State"? Or did they believe 
in the "idea of the German Empire," which con- 
tained a fine congeries of notions: the rather anti- 
quated medieval romanticism ofthe "Holy Roman 
Empire of the German Nation"; a dose of the 
liberal-democratic principles ofthe bourgeoisie; and, 
with the growth of prosperity and population 
density, a yeaming for " imperialist " expansion? 

Both these elements played their part in political 
discussion. A good many Germans, especially some 
worthy professors, tended to attach too high a sig- 
nificance to the undeniable excellence of Germany 's 
well-trained civil Service. They saw chiefly the 
technical functioning of the apparatus as an ertd in 
itself, and overlooked the people's psychological 
reaction to it — did the people approve this appa- 
ratus, did they merely endure it, or did they resent 
it? Hislory has since taught us that rigid perfec- 
tionism of unerring bureaucratic government can 
become a force for disintegration when the psycho- 
logical basis for it has given way from overstrain. 

A further psychological complication for the 
Germans was the moralizing tone that the world 
took toward German " imperialism " — that is to 
say, Germany's sudden appearance at places out- 
side her Central European territory. In the eighties 
and nineties of the last Century Germans raised 
their flag in Africa, in the Pacific, finally in Tsing- 
tao. Today we realize that it was an extremely 
belated historical experiment, as well as being out 
of line with the underlying aims of Bismarckian 
policy. But was it, from the viewpoint of past cen- 
turies, such a sin? Except for Scandinavia and the 
Hapsburg Monarchy, all the countries of Europe, 
including Russia, had established Settlements or 
made more or less lasting conquests on distant 
continents. The Germans, who had hitherto paid 
little attention to "global" policy, were now 
branded as upstarts, Outsiders, disturbers of the 
peace, irrespective of the skill or clumsiness with 
which they undertook their economic, cultural, or 
religious missions. As individuals they might profit 
by breathing a cosmopolitan atmosphere and as- 
suming broader responsibilities. And objectively 
speaking, their colonizing activity was about as 
good as that of nations which boasted long experi- 
ence in these matters. But they had the bad luck 
to provide the rest of the world with rather welcome 
evidence of a "German peril," not so much by their 
actions as by their inept public relations. For like 
people everywhere in the world, they covered up 
their sense of insecurity and weakness by loud 
words. The "Pan-German League" was never any- 
thing more than a small, bad-tempered, and strident 
group; but both before and after 1914 its idiocies 
supplied the rest of the world with reasons for being 
on guard against Germany. 

The disharmonies in German historical develop- 

ment have led a French writer to speak of incerti- 
tvdes allemandes as a constitutional dement in the 
German character. One source of these disharmo- 
nies may be found in the depth of the religious con- 
troversies that racked Germany, and which shaped 
her political destinies for a long time. England and 
France also sufTered from such conflicts, but in each 
case they were terminated by an unequivocal mili- 
tary Solution (Crom well, Richelieu). For thirty 
years — 1618 to 1648 — Germany was the battle- 
ground for a virtually all-European war. During 
the struggle, the original religious causes of the war 
gradually lost their significance. At the end, Ger- 
many emerged exhausted and politically unbal- 
anced. From her ruins a patchwork of separate 
States that were divided spiritually as well as le- 
gally sprang up. In the politically most important 
sections patriotic loyalty to the Reich shrank into 
fiddity to princes and particularistic principalities. 
Thereafter, an emotional consciousness of Germany 
as a whole reappeared only on rare occasions — 
when Vienna was threatened by the Turks and 
toward the end of the Napoleonic era. 

llisTORY, then, had denied the Germans the op- 
portunity to shape their own political destiny 
democratically. This was not due to any basic 
trait in the "German nature." The Germans, too, 
"fought for freedom" — in the peasant wars of the 
Reformation and in the civic uprisings of 1848, to 
name the most prominent examples. But theirs was 
a history of defeats which did not lend themselves 
to legends of glory. After the military collapse of 
1918 and the abdication of all the dynastic sov- 
ereigns, a democratic Constitution was set up as the 
sole possible basis for a legitimate government. But 
this democracy was not a prize won in hard struggle; 
it was simply seized upon in desperation. There was 
no glamor in it, and a sentimental monarchism 
lingered on. Then came the "licensed" democracy 
after 1945 — differently interpreted by the four 
Occupation Powers and quickly perverted by the 
Russians into a red instead of a brown police State. 
It would be absurd to go into the polemics which 
were played as accompaniment to two world wars. 
Their oversimplifications are notorious. Hegd's al- 
leged deification of the State, Nietzsche's cult of 
power, product of a brilliant mind weakened by 
neurasthenia, Spengler's skeptical distrust of his 
own age — all these were "exposed" as specifically 
German modes of thought. On the other band, the 
hard spiritual and moral core of men like Lessing, 
Kant, Schiller, and Stein was overlooked. Equal ly 
overlooked were the Latin or Anglo-Saxon counter- 
parts of the German theoreticians of power, such as 
Machiavdli or Hobbes. It is time to discontinue 
the practice of considering individuals as necessarily 
representative of national character. The (icrmans 

would love lo say simply: "Our Goethe!" Bul they 
might hear, from a good many quarters, a respond- 
ing echo: "Your Hitler!" 

We cannot bow that man Hitler out of the Ger- 
man consciousness. We must not even want to. 
For his memory remains for the Germans a warning 
of the excesses which follow if amorality, immo- 
rality, becomes established as the law of the land. 
Only it is unfair to proclaim him an exponent of the 
German character. In the technique of power Hitler 
was a disciple of Mussolini, as Mussolini was a fol- 
lower of Lenin. The differences, it seems to me, 
derive from the fact that Mussolini was content 
with a political legend, that of the Roman impe- 
rium, and strained its hypnotic force to the limit 
in shaping his State; whereas Lenin clothed his 
revolutionary will to power in the trappings of 
"historical materialism." Hitler, however, with the 
abominable consistency of the half-educated, chose 
as his guiding principle a form of biological natural- 
ism — the annihilation of the Jew. 

These horrors do not characterize " the nature of 
the Germans," but their historical Situation: mili- 
tary defeat whose imminence the leading generals 
concealed as they probably do everywhere; the shat- 
tering of social traditions, especially by the inflation, 
which destroyed the moral fiber of the middle 
classes; the tentativeness and uncertainty of a new 
parliamentary democracy which lacked a native 
tradition and was caught in the middle between 
meeting the conditions imposed by the victorious 
AUies and the rising expectations of the populace. 
(Not one of the statesmen and ministers of the 
Weimar Republic had ever reckoned on the j)ossi- 
bility of facing such tasks.) Finally, a number of 
writers resurrected a variety of literary romanticism 
opposed to the apparently simple formulas for a 
decent democratic political and social order. Men 
like Moeller van den Brück, Spengler, Jünger, and 
Stapel called for a type of society based on some- 
thing they held to be a specifically German, or at 
any rate contemporary, ideology. Armed with con- 
siderable literary gifts, these men exerted a strong 
influence, especially on academic circles. A number 
of them certainly prepared the soil for National 
Socialism; afterward they were aghast at the mis- 
chief their brand of poetic political philosophy had 
wrought. They had failed to realize that the age 
demanded restraint and sobriety in the exercise of 
both patriotic fervor and humanitarian sentiments. 

The Germans are still in the stage of evolving 
their political life. Because in the past Century and 
a half they have witnessed both at home and abroad 
— or endured — such varied conditions of power 
and have been offered such heterogeneous political 
and social ideologies, they have been inclined to 
overrate the importance of theory. In the political 
sphere, consequently, they have long tended to be 
"doctrinaires." But since this epithet once served 
as the actual title of a parliamentary group in the 

France of Louis Philippe, it is evident that doctri- 
nairism is not a psychological monopoly of the Ger- 
mans. The reason for it is relatively simple: namely, 
the weakness of representative govemment in Ger- 
many. After the Congress of Vienna legislatures 
became, at different times and with widely varying 
powers, participants in the governments of the 
various German states. In the era of Bismarck 
representative govemment was extended to the 
Reich as a whole. But these elected bodies had only 
limited legislative powers. They had nothing to say 
in the selection of cabinet ministers or in the deci- 
sions of the monarch, or monarchs. In other words, 
they lingered in the vestibule of power; they lacked 
training in direct responsibility, could not test their 
theories in practice. As a result, they developed an 
ideological dogmatism far more rigid than that of 
political groups in other countries. A significant 
example is the big Social Democratic Party which 
from 1847 (the date of the Communist Manifesto) 
to 1914 could not free itself from Karl Marx's sup- 
posedly "scientific" prophecies about the inevitable 
course of history. At last, under pressure of the 
necessity for making decisions, it broke out of this 
strait jacket and after 1918, having undergone a 
process of "reorientation," courageously faced the 
realities of practical govemment, 


It MAY be thought that an element of pedantry 
underlies this rigid adherence to dogma, no matter 
whether it Springs from naive personal credulity or 
from the conviction that power accrues from an 
unbending stand. Foreigners tend to see such dog- 
matism as peculiarly German in contrast to Latin, 
Anglo-Saxon, and Slavic attitudes. Even Germans 
take this view — some irritably maintaining that 
doctrinairism expresses the humorlessness of un- 
derlings, others pridefuUy reminding us that, after 
all, Germany is a land where "order reigns" — even 
in party politics. This widely credited legend of 
the German sense of order or "talent for Organiza- 
tion" reflects the simple fact that the average Ger- 
man is hard-working because traditionally he had 
to be; there has been no other way for him to earn 
his living in a country so restricted in area. And 
yet, the historical complexities of German public 
life show what an empty slogan this is. Organi- 
zational perfectionism in matters of detail may 
sometimes have smothered creative initiative. But 
over-organization seems often to accompany deep 
changes in social structure. 

While, on the one band, the German is supposed 
to be a pedant obsessed with accuracy, on the other 
band he is pictured as a wildly imaginative roman- 
tic, in both philosophy and politics, allegedly more 
given to shattering pattems than to shaping or con- 
solidating them. Naturally such a type does exist 
among the Germans (as, incidentally, from Ger- 

many's point of view, both types occur in foreign 
nations). Much depends on the moment we select 
from which to observe the flow of a nation*s history. 

The Germans of this generation labor under a 
bürden of ill fate: proclaiming that they were the 
bringers of salvation, they have actually brought 
a curse upon the world. In the enormities that were 
committed, the "demonism" of power-madness was 
combined with personal brutality and the pedantry 
of the totalitarian. They have no right to excuse 
themselves by crying their own woes or pointing to 
the injustice of "others." But it is pcrmissible to 
recall that world-wide condemnation, such as the 
Germans have now brought upon themselves, was 
applied 150 years ago to the French people. They 
were then charged with being eternal troublemakers. 
And, historically, the " imperialism " of the Span- 
iards, the British, the French, the Russians, and 
even the Swedes was actually of a greater order of 
magnitude, in terms of territory. Here again, then, 
we are not dealing with a peculiar feature of the 
German Constitution. Rather, such excesses are 
judged more harshly today because the extension of 
international law and the codification of civil liber- 
ties have rendered man 's conscience more sensitive. 

There remains the diflficult question of whether a 
peculiar faculty for abstraction inheres in the Ger- 
man character as such, expressed in realms other 
than political and social history. To my mind, ro- 
manticism is no evidence for it. To be sure, roman- 
ticism had its German precursor in Herder, whose 
publication of the Voices of the Peoples in Song 
constituted discovery of the independent realm of 
folklore, remote from raison d'etat and existing apart 
from the universalist literature of the educated 
classes. But romanticism as an attitude and pro- 
fession of faith was born in England. Compared to 
Byron and Shelley, almost all the German roman- 
ticists (except such figures as E. T. A. Hoffmann 
and Clemens Brentano) were good sober Citizens. 
And the anti-revolutionary Whig Edmund Burke in 
all probability did more to stamp his character on 
the age than the romanticist littcrateurs who sur- 
rounded Metternich. 

But now we confront the peculiar dichotomy of 
the Century from 1750 to 1850 — these dates being 
intended merely as rough limits. It was the age of 
classical poetry, of the great t hinkers (Lessing, 
Kant, Schiller, Fichte, Hegel, Schelling, Schopen- 
hauer), and of a tremendous wave of great music. 
(The German art of this period has given pleasure 
to the Germans of various regions, but has never 
attracted much interest in the outside world.) 

Oddly enough, the thinkers of that period who 
are considered representative of the "German 
spirit " and the writers who liberated literature from 
provinciality were either Protest ants by religion or 
came from Protestant localities. The musicians, 
on the other band, and the creators of the magnif- 
icent German baroque architecture sprang from 

Catholic areas (with very few, though important, 
exceptions) or depended upon Catholic patrons, 
such as the Dresden court. We must not carry this 
idea too far; great musicians like Heinrich Schütz, 
Johann Sebastian Bach, and Handel had also 
emerged from the Protestant sphere. But except 
for Handel, they had been virtually forgotten. The 
question is whether Lutheranism (not Luther him- 
self, who as we know was a man of earthy sensi* 
bility) has caused the development of intellectual 
abstraction, which subsequently expanded into 
system-building speculation. But let us not labor 
the point. For if we add another Century, any such 
thesis could easily be provcd by some examples, 
disproved by others. The question is nevertheless 
worth considering, it seems to me, in order for us to 
grasp the alleged peculiarities of some of the domes- 
tic and foreign influences of German thought. 

iET me venture to couple the names of two Ger- 
mans who in themselves are certainly not compa- 
rable, but whose like are not to be found in the 
intellectual history of other nations, rieh as such 
nations may be in powerful original thinkers and 
men of action. They are Martin Luther and Karl 
Marx. Each operatcd in a different sphere, that of 
the one being religious transcendence and the other 
materialist immanencc; yet they had this in com- 
mon: that their highly personal and individual 
power of abstraction affected world history. I say 
this without attempting to "evaluate" the work of 
either man. Each of them represents a spiritual 
force, flowing from pure thought, which reshaped 
the souls of men, a force which possessed a pro- 
founder power than, say, Rousseau's optimistic 
constructs of a Social Contract based upon natural 
law. No matter what view we take of Luther's 
theology, or of his importance to ecclesiastical his- 
tory and his responsibility for the rise of many 
denominations, no matter whether we think of him 
as a revolutionary, or as a reformer concerned with 
the purity of the church — his appearance on the 
stage of history, with all its bright and dark conse- 
quences, was a tremendous act of liberation. That 
may not have been what he wished, but that was 
his effect. Marx's vision of science and reality be- 
longs wholly to the era of early industrialism. Both 
its intellectual basis and its elementary factuality 
have been disproved by t he course of events. Never- 
theless, it has retained its virulence because it con- 
tained, along with floundcrings toward the certitude 
of philosophical logic, a dynamic element of ex- 
tremely earthbound agitation for the Coming of the 
millennial kingdom. History, to be sure, has cor- 
rupted Marx's doctrine of salvation into a brutal 
and banal system of rule by force, and his mode of 
thought into a brauch of political tactics. 

Perhaps the German has a special talent for 

'*idcological" thinking; perhaps he is peculiarly 
susceplible to its appeal. At times this gift may 
seem to Surround him with a handsome aureole; at 
olhcr times it produccs general distrust, and he is 
Seen as a decidedly equivocal fellow, whose intel- 
lectual and spiritual life cannot be plumbed. Some 
Germans are aware of the disadvantages of being 
so unpredictable — olher peoples with a history 
füll of vicissitudes are also familiär with this prob- 
lem. When the German takes refuge in self-praise 

— sometimes a manifestation of a sense of weakness 

— he speaks of his ** profundity." 

Nowadays he has little time for such attitudes. 
Ile must try once more to get a grip on the world 
from which he was shut off for so long, and which 
was presented to him only in distorted fashion — 
just as his own image had changed in the eyes of the 
World: a faet he was naively astonished to learn. 
Ile has come to rcalize (except for those who like to 
cultivate a sense of grievancc) that such miscon- 
ceptions must be cleared up. 

HE German has never been aloof from the world. 
To the extent that he is *'provincial," he is no more 
so than other peoples. To be sure, Germans did not 
participate during the centuries in which old Eu- 
rope was opening up the New World; they did not 
become colonial masters or settlers. They did not, 
like the Spanish, the Portuguese, the French, and 
the English, stamp their language, their culture, 
their own peculiar coloration, upon distant terri- 
tories, but as individuals Germans have been im- 
pelled to wander over the wide world. Groups of 
Germans, including a good many religious sects, 
established tight-knit communities abroad. For a 
long time they cultivated their native heritage, 
even where they had meanwhile become loyal Citi- 
zens of their host count ry. 

Innumerable ordinary Germans had relatives or 
friends on all continents — and this was so before 
the forced emigrations that followed Hitler 's ac- 
cession to power. But there is another fact of even 
greater importance: that Germany, if I am not mis- 
laken, was and still is, or is once again, the country 
producing the greatest number of translations. And 
this applies not only to the **great" works of litera- 
ture, which sooner or later find their way into all 
major languages; literary and scientific works of 
even average quality have always found a market 
in Germany. A good many powerful writers in the 
languages of small nations have begun their tri- 
umphal march into world literature by way of Ger- 
many, as, for instance, Ibsen and Knut Hamsun. 
There are fools in Germany who have criticized this 
receptiveness toward foreign writers as a sign of 
wavering patriotism (whereas foreigners are always 
charging the Germans with excessive nationalism). 
In fact, it is a sign of active curiosity about the 

world and of a desire for intellectual enrichment. 

The present Situation is by no means clarified. It 
exhibits a number of paradoxical features. Right 
after the end of the war in 1945 the Germans were 
showered with the films and literary productions of 
the Western world, while heaps of their own books, 
stocked up in Publishing houses, became so much 
waste paper, discredited by their very "timeliness." 
The Germans were slow to find their tongues again, 
and there still remains an undecided question: 
Should the writer come to grips with recent political, 
social, and moral history; should he attempt to 
represent and master it in art, as far as that is pos- 
gjljlg — an effort in which some have succeeded ? 
Or should he, will he, can he escape ("enough of 
these horrors!") into a world of detachment, of 
idylls, of romanticism, of frivolity? 

In the Visual arts we find similar paradoxical fea- 
tures. The Germans have always feit somewhat 
aggrieved that "the world" has paid less attention 
to their modern painting, drawing, and sculpturc 
than they thought it deserved. After all, they them- 
selves had so many good English, French, and 
Italian eighteenth and nineteenth Century works in 
their galleries, in addition to sizable coUections of 
the early Italians and Dutch. They were disap- 
pointed to find scarcely any German graphic or 
plastic art in London or Paris — German music, of 
course, could be heard everywhere. 

In this respect, Hitler's low-grade barbarism in- 
troduced a change. In the first place he drove out 
into the world men whose erudition and deepest 
interests were intimately bound up with the devel- 
opment of modern German art; naturally these men, 
though in new lands, continued to pursue the things 
they loved dearly. In the second place, this frus- 
trated art Student banned exhibition of works he 
did not like; galleries were cleared of "degenerate" 
art and these works were thrown onto the inter- 
national market. The result of his evil intentions 
was a curious good: he opened the world's doors to 
modern German art. Not that foreign collectors 
suddenly decided that certain works were beautiful 
because Hitler thought them bad. But their atten- 
tion was attracted, and the result was that the near 
monopoly of Paris was broken. The reputation of 
French art was not impaired, but it came to be 
recognized that to the epoch-making artistic sym- 
phony of the past fifty or sixty years German art 
had contributed a clear, strong note of its own. 
Modern German painting is now much more fully 
represented in foreign museums than ever before. 
And judging by the interest aroused by various 
retrospective shows in the United States and Eng- 
land, it seems to me that curiosity about Germany's 
special achievements in this field, and a readiness 
to be moved by them, is beginning to extend to 
works of the past. 

These refined intellectual matters may seem be- 
side the point to those who are troubled by far more 

immediate concerns, such as: W^ill peace last? Will 
humanity grasp the opportunities offered to it, by 
the rapid progress of civilizing technology, to raise 
the Standard of living of all mankind? Or will this 
great potent iality be thrown away by men who 
desire to ding to a historical position, or to gain new 
power; will it be sacrificed on the altar of an 
'* ideology " — whether a devout or an evil one — to 
make that ideology victorious in shaping the world? 
We shall not go into this matter more deeply here 
— indeed we can scarcely do so, for these are times 
in which the morning's surprises rob last night's 
certainties of their meaning. 

In this precarious Situation the reshaping of the 
German national consciousness, of the Germans' 
intellectual and political attitudes, is taking place, 
must take place. Economic recovery, it seems, has 
been accomplished with remarkable speed. There 
were two prerequisites. The first was the realiza- 
tion that many of the edicts and instructions con- 
ceived by the Allies in an atmosphere of wartime 
passions were foolish in practice, and had to be 
scrapped step by step. The stringency of these de- 
crees inflicted painful wounds upon individuals, 
and nasty personal scars still remain. The second 
was the Marshall Plan which resulted from Herbert 
Iloover's mission of inspection in February 1947. 
As I have told a good many American visitors, this 
was Germany's salvation because it provided the 
hard-working Germans with an opportunity to be 
meaningfully hard-working. The phrase "German 
Miracle," which was coined to explain the appear- 
ance of decent German goods on the world markets, 
the rise of new factories, and the reconstruction of 
endless rows of wrecked buildings, is a phrase dis- 
tinctly off-key. For there was no miracle. And the 
visiting travelers who were justifiably amazed at 
such enormous productivity after such a disaster 
overlooked one vital factor: misery, especially the 
distress of the heart, cannot be put on display. 

Most people in the world have not visualized 
what it has meant to some ten million human beings 
to be forced to leave their homelands on short 
notice, or on the other hand what it meant to a 
smashed country to provide food, housing, and work 
for these displaced members of their own nation. 
In practice such an imposed historical task can 
only be met imperfectly; emotionally, no Solution 
to it is ever possible. (We never conceal the fact 
that Hitler provided the model for such mass de- 
portations and for robbing people of their home- 
lands; but his ruthlessness ought not to be regarded 
as an example or a justification.) Moreover, when, 
with Germany plainly on the verge of total defeat, 
the Allies met at Teheran and Yalta and set up four 
zones of occupation, they did so under the pretext 

of establishing a democratie order. The milltary 
governments were intended both to command and 
to help the Germans, to meet distress, chaos, and 
possibly resistance. In practice everything turned 
out quite differently. Germany became a deploy- 
ment area for contendirtg political and socio-eco- 
nomic ideologies. These ideologies had seemed of 
little importance so long as it was necessary to win 
the war that Hitler's criminal recklessness had un- 
leashed. But now they operated to separate the 
eastern part of Germany, the Soviet zone, from the 
western part. And this was done not only in a 
physical sense, for the Russians also attempted lo 
set up a spiritual partition. Basically, this cannot 
succeed, for a nation's life proceeds out of its own 
spiritual heritage, though with varied colorations. 
Here, however, we find the root cause for the tension 
that keeps Europe on edge. Querelies allemandes? 
More is at stake. We are aware that the world 
grows weary of being reminded of the mistakes 
of Yalta and Potsdam — the word " coexistence " 
was coined as an expression of this weariness. The 
Word implies that differences in both political and 
socio-economic Systems are of minor importance. 
Faced with the problem of elementary human 
rights, however, even the believers in "coexisten- 
tialism" feel uneasy. The question remains: Can 
the arguments for the coexistence of two radically 
different Systems make any sense when a single na- 
tion is involved? And can any just claim be made 
for such coexistence when its starting point was a 
State of total defeat and total collapse? 

These are the underlying questions which affect 
the minds and souls as well as the politics of the 
Germans. A stränge and still obscure process of 
psychological change is going forward in Germany. 
It remains to be seen whether and how new charac- 
teristic attitudes and a new intellectual style will 
develop. There are now communities and districts 
in Germany which contain up to forty per cent of 
"new Citizens" from territories long settled by Ger- 
mans in the East and Southeast. In some.cases 
friendships and mixed marriages are formed, in 
other cases discontents and hostilities arise because 
traditions are being upset. Even while spiritual and 
economic fusion is taking place in certain areas, we 
can also see all manner of efforts to preserve and 
cherish the values which are, especially for the rural 
and small-town populace, bound up with the native 
soil in which their forefathers rest. Heimweh^ that 
almost untranslatable word, expresses "homesick- 
ness" in a way peculiar to the German language. 

Such are some of the questions Germans have in 
mind when they look to the future, questions of a 
people's rebirth and destiny. 

Translaied by Richard and Clara Winston 


Thoughts on Humanistic Education, Science, and Western Culture 


IT 18 frequently argued that in our age, governed 
as it is by science and technology, education 
should be directed more toward practical ends 
if it is to serve as a useful preparation for life. This 
argument raises once more the question of the re- 
lationship between humanistic education and con- 
temporary science. I cannot treat this question in 
any fundamental way, since I am not an educator 
and have given the matter too little thought. But 
I can attempt to draw some conclusions from my 
own experiences, for I myself am a product of a 
German Gymnasium, that stronghold of the classi- 
cal education. 

The advocates of the humanistic ideal rightly 
point out that our entire cultural life, all our actions, 
thoughts, and feelings, are rooted in the intellectual 
substance of the Occident, the beginnings of which 
are to be found in classical antiquity: in Greek 
art, Greek poetry, and Greek philosophy. Subse- 
quently transmuted by Christianity, this Greek 
spirit culminated at the close of the Middle Ages 
in a magnificent union of Christian faith with the 
intellectual freedom of antiquity; the world was 
conceived as God's even as the voyages of discovery 
and the development of science and technology 
were thoroughly reshaping it. Thus, in every realm 
of modern life we necessarily encounter intellectual 
structures which had their origins in classical an- 

Professor Werner Heisenberg, who was hom in Duis- 
burg in 1901 y was awarded the Nobel Prize in Physics in 
1932 for his work on the quantum theory. A rmmber of 
the facvUy of the University of GöUingen since 19J^5, he is 
Diredor there of the Max Planck Research Institute. Sev- 
eral of his books have been jmblished in this country, includ- 
ing Physical Principles of the Quantum Theory and 
Philosophie Problems of Nuclear Science. 

tiquity or in Christianity. So it can be urged in fa- 
vor of humanistic education that it is good to know 
these structures, even though many of their aspects 
may not be directly necessary for modern life. 

It is secondly stressed that the whole force of 
our Western culture derives from the close con- 
nection between asking questions of principle and 
taking practical action. In practical action other 
peoples and other cultural areas have been just as 
experienced as the Greeks. But Greek thought 
from the very first was distinguished from that of 
other peoples by precisely this ability to translate 
a Problem into one of principle, thereby arriving at 
answers that imposed order upon the colorful mul- 
tiplicity of experience. Out of this bond between 
theoretical questions and practical action arose, at 
the beginning of the Renaissance, modern science 
and technology. Anyone who studies Greek philos- 
ophy encounters at every step of the way this 
gift for putting questions of principle; reading the 
Greeks, therefore, enables one to exercise the most 
powerful intellectual tool that Occidental thought 
has produced. To this extent we can certainly say 
that humanistic studies teach us something enor- 
mously useful. 

Finally, it is rightly maintained that a study of 
classical antiquity leads us to a Standard of value 
which rates spiritual-intellectual values higher than 
material values. Here, of course, our contempo- 
raries might argue that modern times prove that 
forces of matter are stronger than any forces of 
mind, and that it is therefore anachronistic to at- 
tempt to teach our children a greater esteem for 
intellectual than for material values. 

In this connection I recall a conversation I had 
some thirty years ago in our schoolyard. At that 
Urne revolutionary struggles were going on in 

Munich; the heart of the city was still occupied by 
Communists. I was seventeen, and along with my 
schoolmates was assigned to auxiliary duty with 
a military unit whose headquarters was in the theo- 
logical seminary opposite our Gymnasium. There 
was frequent though not particularly violent firing 
in the street. Every noon we fetched our lunch 
from a field kitchen in the yard of the seminary. 
One day we became involved in a discussion with a 
theology Student on the question of whether this 
struggle in Munich was in truth meaningful. One 
of our group took the stand that questions of power 
could not be decided by intellectual means, by 
speechmaking and writing; the real decision beween 
US and the others could only bc determined by 
force, he declared. 

Thereupon the theology Student replied that the 
very question of who "we" and who "the others" 
were obviously depended upon a purely intellectual 
decision, and that probably a good deal would be 
gained if this decision were made somewhat more 
intelligently than was usually the case. We could 
find no good reply to this argument. Perhaps it 
might not be so bad if we were to teach youth not 
to despise the values of the mind. 

But to return to my subject, which is the re- 
lationship between science and humanistic educa- 
tion — most schoolboys stumble into the realm of 
technology by beginning to play with various types 
of apparatus. Being given a Christmas present of 
a mechanical nature, playing with other boys, or 
learning something in school, they become inter- 
ested in handling and building small machines. 
During my first five school years I engaged in such 
play with great eagemess. Probably it would have 
remained only play and would never have led me 
to real science if another experience had not inter- 
vened. In school we were taught the elements of 
geometry. At first it seemed to me a thoroughly 
dry subject; triangles and Squares stirred my im- 
agination far less than flowers and verse. But sud- 
denly I saw that general propositions could be 
stated about these structures, that certain conse- 
quences could not only be recognized from the fig- 
ures, but could also be pro ved mathematically. 

This idea — that mathematics had a relation- 
ship to things that could be seen and experienced 
— Struck me as extraordinarily remarkable and 
exciting. I had one of those rare insights that 
sometimes come to us in connection with the sub- 
jects we learn in school, when a subject which has 
entered our field of vision suddenly begins to glow 
with its own light; at first the image is obscure 
and vague, but it grows steadily brighter until at 
last the light it radiates fills a larger space in our 
consciousness, extends to other subjects, and finally 
becomes an integral part of our own life. 

That was what happened to me with the insight 
that mathematics applies to things in our experi- 
ence: an insight that, my teachers told me, had 

already been perceived by Pythagoras and Euclid. 
I began trying to find applications for mathematics 
myself, and found this playing with mathematics 
and direct Observation at least as amusing as other 
games. Later the field of geometry ceased to 
satisfy me. Through books I discovered that the 
science of physics had developed methods for study- 
ing mathematically the behavior of the machines 
I was constantly rigging up. From popular-educa- 
tion books and similar rather elementary texts I 
began learning the mathematics required to describe 
physical laws — primarily the difFerential and inte- 
gral calculus. The achievements of Newton and 
his successors seemed to me the direct continuation 
of the work of Greek mathematicians and philoso- 
phers; they were in fact one and the same thing, 
and it would not have entered my head to view 
the science and technology of our age as belonging 
to a fundamentally different world from the phi- 
losophy of Pythagoras or Euclid. 

At BOTTOM, instinctively and with a schoolboy's 
ignorance I had stumbled upon a basic trait of 
Occidental thought: the connection I have already 
mentioned between practical action and theoretical 
questions. Mathematics is, as it were, the language 
in which questions can be asked and answered 
fundamentally, but the questions themselves have 
reference to processes in the practical, material 
World. So, for example, geometry served the pur- 
pose of measuring agricultural land. 

As a result of this experience, my interest as a 
Student ran more toward mathematics than toward 
physical science or apparatus; it was only in the 
two Upper forms at school that I tumed back to 
physical science. That, curiously enough, was the 
result of a chance encounter with modern physics. 

At the time we were using a quite commendable 
physics textbook which, howevor, naturally treated 
the most modern developments in physics in a 
rather gingerly fashion. Nevertheless, the last pages 
of the book contained some discussion of atoms, 
and I distinctly remember a diagram which showed 
a sizable aggregation of atoms. The diagram was 
intended to represent the State of a gas. There 
were several groups of atoms, and within the groups 
the atoms were connected by hooks and eyes which 
were probably meant to symbolize the chemical 
aflfinities. The text also stated that in the view of 
Greek philosophers atoms constituted the smallest 
indivisible building blocks of matter. 

Every time I saw it, this diagram stirred me to 
feelings of out rage; I was shocked that anything so 
stupid could be found between the Covers of a 
textbook of physics. For I thought: If the atoms 
are such crudely tangible structures as this book 
pretends, if they have so complicated a form that 
they even possess hooks and eyes, they cannot 

possibly be the smallest indivisible blocks of matter. 
A friend who was far more interested in philoso- 
phy than I backed me up in this view. This 
schoolmate, who had read a number of essays on 
the atomic theory of the classical philosophers, had 
also encountered a textbook of modern atomic 
physics (I believe it was Sommerfeldes Atomic 
Structure and Spectral Lines) and had seen graphic 
drawings of atoms. They had led him to the firm 
conviction that all of modern atomic physics must 
be wrong, and he tried to win me to this view. In 
those days we formed judgments much more 
quickly and certainly than we do now. I agreed 
with my friend that graphic representations of 
atoms must necessarily be wrong, but I held that 
the fault lay with those who drew the pictures. 

In any case, I was left with the desire to become 
more closely acquainted with the real fundamentals 
of atomic physics, and here another accident played 
into my hands. At this time we had just begun 
reading a Piatonic dialogue in school. But instruc- 
tion was highly irregulär because of the unrest in 
Munich. We boys had very little to do as military 
auxiliaries; in fact, we were far more in danger of 
loafing than of overworking ourselves. However, 
we had to be ready for duty at night. 

It was a warm summer, that June of 1919, and 
in the early momings especially we had practically 
no duties. The result was that shortly after dawn 
I frequently resorted to the roof of the theological 
seminary to lie in the sun and read, or sit with 
my feet dangling over the rim of the roof and watch 
the Ludwigstrasse come to life. On one such occa- 
sion I decided to take a volume of Plato up to the 
roof with me, and to read something beside the dia- 
logues we were studying in class, despite my rela- 
tively limited knowledge of Greek. I hit upon the 
TimaeuSy and here for the first time I encountered 
Greek atomic philosophy at first band. Reading 
the dialogue, I understood the basic ideas of atomic 
theory much more clearly than I had before. I 
thought that I could at least halfway understand 
the reasons which had prompted Greek philosophers 
to assume the existence of those smallest indivisible 
building blocks of matter. The thesis Plato main- 
tained in the Timaeus, that atoms are regulär bod- 
ies, still did not seem altogether sensible to me, but I 
was pleased to see that at least his atoms had no 
hooks and eyes. In any case, I became convinced 
there and then that a scientist could scarcely work 
in modern atomic physics without a knowledge of 
Greek natural philosophy, and I reflected that the 
person who had drawn that picture of the atom 
should have boned up on his Plato before he set 
about making drawings. 

Thus, without quite knowing how, I had become 
acquainted with one of the great ideas of Greek 
natural philosophy, an idea which forms the bridge 
between antiquity and the modern age, and one 
whose füll power has unfolded only since the 

Renaissance. This movement m Greek philosophy, 
the atomic doctrine of Leiicippus and Democritus, 
is generally referred to as materialism. Historically 
that is a correct appellation, but one that can 
easily be misunderstood nowadays because the 
word materialism acquired during the nineteenth 
Century a special connotation which by no means 
accords with the development of Greek natural 
philosophy. This misinterpretation of the classical 
atomic theory can be avoided if we remember that 
the first modern scholar to revive the atomic 
theory was the seventeenth-century theologian and 
philosopher Gassendi. He surely did not intend to 
place it in Opposition to the tenets of Christianity. 
For Democritus, moreover, atoms were the letters 
with which the events of the universe were written, 
but not its content. Nineteenth-century materi- 
alism, on the other band, developed out of ideas of 
quite a different sort, ideas characteristic of the 
modern age whose roots are to be found in the 
post-Cartesian division of the world into material 
and Spiritual realities. 

Lhe great river of science and technology which 
nourishes our epoch consequently Springs from two 
sources, both of which lie within the territory of 
classical philosophy, and although other tributaries 
have since enlarged the fructifying stream, the 
original sources can still be recognized plainly. In 
this sense science, too, can profit from humanistic 
education. To be sure, those who urge more practi- 
cal training for youth may always object that 
knowledge of the intellectual and spiritual funda- 
ments is not too essen tial for practical life. On 
the contrary, they would say, time is better spent 
on the subjects of more practical value for modern 
life: modern languages, technical studies, business 
administration, and arithmetical skills. These will 
enable a person to meet the demands of life, while 
humanistic education is more or less an adomment, 
a luxury which can be afforded only by those few 
whom fate has spared the more difficult phases of 
the struggle for existence. 

Perhaps that is true for many people who later 
in life will engage in purely practical activities and 
who have no ambition to contribute to shaping the 
intellectual structure of our era. But anyone who 
will not be content so to limit himself, anyone who 
wishes to get to the bottom of things in any subject, 
be it technology or medicine or what have you, 
will sooner or later come upon these sources in 
classical antiquity. And he will find it extremely 
helpful for his own work if he has leamed from 
the Greeks to think in terms of fundamentals, to 
ask questions of principles. The work of Max 
Planck, I believe, clearly reveals the influence and 
enrichment of a humanistic background. Perhaps 
I may cite another of my own experiences, which 


occurred some three years after the end of my 
Gymnasium days. I was then attending the Uni- 
versity of Göttingen, and happened to discuss with 
a fellow Student the problem which had troubled 
me at secondary school: whether atoms could be 
represented graphically. This problem was obvi- 
ously linked with the phenomena of spectroscopy, 
for which at that time no explanation could be 
offered. My friend defended the graphic repre- 
sentations and declared that the Solution was 
simple: all we had to do was to construct, with the 
aid of modern technology, a microscope with enor- 
mous powers of resolution — one that operated 
with gamma rays instead of ordinary light, for 
example. Then we would be able to see the form 
of an atom — and that, he thought, would certainly 
remove my scruples about graphic representations. 
This idea disturbed me deeply. I was afraid this 
imaginary microscope would make visible after 
all the hooks and eyes of my physics textbook, and 
I would therefore be forced to ponder the apparent 
contradiction between this (imaginary) experiment 
and the basic ideas of Greek philosophy. In this 
Situation the training we had received in school — 
in thinking in terms of principles — pro ved a 
tremendous help to me. It made me resist accepting 
partial, sham Solutions. Moreover, what knowledge 
I had by then acquired of Greek natural philosophy 
also came to my rescue. 

In discussing the value of humanistic education 
today, we can scarcely object that the relationship 
of natural philosophy to modern atomic physics is 
an exceptional case and that in other respects 
science, technology, . or medicine, rarely touches 
upon questions of principle. That would be wrong 
if only because many scientific disciplines are now 
closely tied to atomic physics and consequently 
lead back to similar fundamental questions. The 
structure of chemistry Stands upon the foundation 
of atomic physics; modern astronomy is intimately 
connected with it and could scarcely make any 
progress without constant reference to atomic 
physics; and bridges between biology and atomic 
physics are already beginning to be built. In the 
last several decades the connections among the 
various sciences have become far more evident than 
they were in the past. At many such nodes the 
signs of their common origin are recognizable, and 
that common origin is, ultimately, the thinking of 
classical antiquity. 

In making this remark I have almost retumed 
to my starting point. Western culture began with 
the close connection between questions of principle 
and practical action which was the great achieve- 
ment of the Greeks. And upon that relationship 
the whole force of our culture rests to this day. 
Ahnost all progress can still be derived from it, 
and in this sense affirmation of humanistic educa- 
tion is also simply an affirmation of the West and 
its creative cultural forces. 

But — have we still the right to make such an 
affirmation in view of the frightful losses of power 
and Prestige the West has suffered during the past 
few decades? One might comment that here is no 
question of right, but solely of desire. The entire 
activity of the West did not originate from a 
theoretical conception which provided our for^ 
fathers with their justification for acting. Far from 
it. In the beginning there stood, as there always 
does in such cases, faith. I do not mean by that 
only the Christian faith in a God-given meaningful 
World, but simply the faith in our task in this world. 
Having faith does not, of course, mean thinking 
this or that true; having faith always means: This 
is my choice; on this I will stake my existence! 
When Columbus set out on his first voyage to the 
West, he believed that the earth was round and 
small enough to be circumnavigated. He not only 
thought this theoretically correct; he staked bis 
existence on it. We may, with Freyer, the historian, 
revise the old formula, Credo, ut intellegam — "I 
believe in order to understand," into Credo, ut agam; 
ago, ut intellegam — ''1 believe in order to act; I 
act in order to understand." This formula applies 
not only to the first circumnavigations of the globe; 
it applies equally well to all the science of the West, 
and probably to the whole mission of the West. 
It embraces humanistic culture and science. And 
let US not be excessively modest: one half of the 
contemporary world, the West, has acquired in- 
comparable power by giving utmost weight to one 
idea of Western culture: the control and exploitation 
of the forces of nature by science. The other half 
of the world, the East, is held together by belief 
in the dogmas of a European philosopher and 
political economist. No one knows what the future 
will bring, nor what intellectual forces will govern 
the world; but we can only begin by believing in 
something and desiring some outcome. 

We want intellectual life to flourish here again. 
Here in Europe we want to see continuance of the 
development of ideas that change the face of the 
world. We are staking our existence upon the 
faith that even as we recall our origins, and once 
more find our way back to a harmonious interplay 
of the various forces on our continent, we shall 
also be able to shape the extemal conditions of 
European life more happily than we have done in 
the past fifty years. We want our youth, in spite 
of all outward confusions, to grow up in the intel- 
lectual atmosphere of the West, to drink from 
those sources of strength on which our continent 
has lived for more than two thousand years. The 
details of that striving are of secondary inipor- 
tance. Whether we adhere to the traditional 
humanistic Gymnasium or to some other type of 
schooling is not the decisive factor. What really 
matters above everything eise is our desire to affirm 
the culture of the West! 

Trandated by Richard and Clara WinsUm 


Contemporary Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture 

Acountry's art is not an isolated thing; it is 
the concert of all Forces of its spirit. German 
u art as a specific "color" of Western culture 
materialized in the nascent thirteenth-century 
Gothic, and ever since, a certain archaic inertia — 
in line with loyalty to the idea of the Reich — has 
been contending dialectically against the urge to 
find new graphic forms. When the latter prevaiied, 
as in the Reformation and in expressionism, Ger- 
man art took forward strides. Time and again, 
long periods of consumption (but also of genius in 
putting finishing touches to forms found elsewhere 
— we need only mention the golden age of the 
South German baroque!) were overtaken by abrupt 
advances. There is little steadiness to be observed 
in German art, but much sudden vigor in stormy 

And yet, it was a shockingly radical experience 
that marked the Situation after World War II. 
This old, civilized country's art was forced one day 
to make sure of its very existence as a stränge gift, 
and to make a fresh start from a kind of Point Zero: 
1945. There was a rubbing of eyes, a mournfui 
rage at the frightcning realization of huge losses, 
and yet there was wonder: the night of terror actu- 
ally had been survived by some. 

There had been iconoclasm in the past — even 
the Bible talks of breaking the images of neighbor- 

Albert Schulze Vellinghausen, hom in the Ruhr 
district in 1905y gave up the study of law for art and liter- 
aiure. He was a bookseUer in Cologne before making writing 
his profession, A regidar contributor to the Frankfurter 
Allgemeine Zeitung, one of Germany's leading newspaperSy 
he is now a critic of art, architecture, literature, and drama. 
He also serves on art juries for a number of mu^eums, both 
in Germany and abroad. 

ing pagan tribes — while the number of ruined altar 
paintings cannot even be guessed. But the Nazi 
fight against "degenerate art" — a term derived 
from Hitler's personal resentment and applied to 
all art other than the most commonplace natu- 
ralism — had a quality all its own. It was lethally 
systematic. The despotism was not content to ban 
and destroy (and to seil abroad for foreign currency, 
where profit beckoned) ; it did not rage against the 
works of art alone. It went right into the Studios 
proscribing professional and even wholly private 
artistic activities. Organized stool pigeons, re- 
cruited from the pseudo-artistic riffraff that is 
always found in the Proletariat of art, served as 
a kind of "art police," watching and Controlling 
all artists who were aesthetically suspect and thus 
"injurious to the Community." A few individuals 
with sufficient nerve kept working in secret. Fritz 
Winter 's wartime series ''Triebkräfte der Erde'' 
("Driving Forces of the Soil"), a Virtual com- 
pendium of searching Imagination, consists of the 
smallest rice-paper scraps. The dimensions of Oskar 
Schlemmer's suite of "window visions," created in 
an oflice building in Wuppertal, are similarly mi- 
nute. Art, in those days, had to be easy to hidc. 

An oddly paradoxical compliment! Never before 
had fine art been taken so seriously by the philist ine 
rabble — but then Hitler himself had begun as a 
painter of Kitsch. The authorities had the right 
idea: human freedom is nowhere as purely manifest 
as in martyrdom and in the works of fine art. In- 
deed, we may say it is actually embodied and made 
tangible in works of art. This suspicion, that art 
might show the whole system of power in jeopardy, 
brought the aversion of the mighty to the point of 
hatred and persecution mania. They feit poten- 
tially unmasked by art. 

German art should not be ashamed of this perse- 
cution. It did more to maintain Standards than if 
the evil System had pretended to magnanimity, 
feigning a liberalism it mocked in all other respects. 
Still, the awakening was difficult. The public had 
to be prodded into bringing the survivors out of 
hiding, showing interest in them, making use of 
them. Who was left to testify about Die Brücke, 
about Der Blaue Reiter, about the fertile Bauhaus 
period? But let us glance at the past. 

Old Emil Nolde, born in 1867, was near eighty, 
strictly forbidden to paint since 1941, vegetating on 
his farm near the Danish border. There he guarded 
the pathos of riotous colors which had made him 
and Kirchner the foremost masters of Die Brücke, 
forty years since. Kirchner had killed himself in 
Davos in 1938; his works remained sequestered in 
Switzerland. Jawlensky of the Blaue R^ter group, 
long paralyzed, had died in Wiesbaden early during 
the war. He had died in obscurity, although a few 
initiates held his late, icon-type abstractions (mini- 
atures: half window crossbars, half visions of 
Christ) in high esteem. 

Max Beckmann had emigrated to Amsterdam 
and been trapped by the German occupation. He 
had survived with the help of friends and art dealers 
— chiefly valiant Günther Franke of Munich; but 
now he was cut off from German life by the all but 
impassable frontier. Karl Hofer, the brittle classi- 
cist and bitter idealist, had survived in Berlin and 
set out to paint his bombed-out life's work again, 
from memory; it tumed into black visions of terror 
and torture. 

Of the Bauhaus group hardly anyone had stayed 
in the country. Klee, after 1933, had sought refuge 
in his Swiss homeland and died in Locarno, in 1940. 
Kandinsky had emigrated to Paris and died there 
shortly after the liberation, in December 1944. 
Schlemmer also was dead; he and Willi Baumeister 
had hidden out in a paint factory. Baumeister, un- 
broken, took over the Stuttgart Academy of Art 
and was the first to exert a more than local influ- 
enae. Itten, the Swiss, taught in Zürich; Feininger, 
the American, was back in his native New York; 
George Grosz had emigrated to the United States; 
Muche kept going at the Textüschule in Krefeld. 
Fritz Winter, one of the younger Bauhaus artists, 
was a prisoner of war in Russia. 

To mention sculptors: Matare, proscribed by the 
authorities but aided by the farseeing Catholic 
Church, could now start working in the Lower 
Rhineland and became the friend and witty adviser 
of a circle of younger men. Gerhard Marcks, hard 
hit by the death of his sons, was living somewhere on 
the Baltic coast, in the Russian zone. Both were 
custodians of the knowledge of Berlin's great years. 
Let US end this roster which cannot lay claim to 
completeness. It can only indicate how much this 
State of art resembled a landscape of scattered vol- 
canic craters. There was no center anywhere. 

There were few interconnections, no newspapers, 
no signs of a public opinion. The need for food, 
clothing, and shelter, and the distress of the refugees 
came first. Resentments created confusion, adulter- 
ating the spontaneous sense of general relief. 

The occupying powers, on the other band — the 
United States, France, and England — started 
soon to assist the formation of opinion in this hazy 
vacuum by exhibitions of great modern art. There 
were astute men on the cultural staffs of the armies; 
they realized that the most urgent task was to pro- 
cure objects of comparison. These exhibitions 
proved to be Virtual "effective quanta," to borrow 
a term from physics. Germans whose memory went 
back to the time before the terror could base their 
stand on them. The reaction was sensational; it 
was art that brought the first free breeze into the 
country. The expressionists, Bracque and Picasso, 
Feininger's transparent lyricism, Paul Klee's uni- 
verse — all this came before the eyes of an imac- 
customed, stunned, delighted, horrified public as 
on the day of creation. It was "a new world." 

A.LREADY younger, hitherto unknown native fig- 
ures were appearing. Georg Meistermann (born in 
1911) had caught a breath of free air before 1933 
as a Student at the Düsseldorf Academy, and ec- 
clesiastic backing had since enabled him to devote 
himself to the design of glass Windows; now he came 
before the public with free, hopeful works. Hubert 
Berke (born in 1908), a Klee pupil who had taken 
up commercial art under the despotism, could again 
link up with the great past. Werner Gilles (born in 
1894), a long-time resident of Italy, fascinated 
people with his abstract visions of southem geology. 
Ernst Wilhelm Nay (born in 1902), a protege of 
Edvard Munch in the bad years, employed metallic 
hardness for the difficult transition from expression- 
ist remnants to a more absolute color technique. 

The work of Henry Moore, presented by the 
British in a comprehensive exhibit, fumished not 
only sculptors but painters with daring examples of 
how to break through more conventional forms of 
Vision. Similar impulses came from Fernand Leger 
and the German-born Parisian, Hans Härtung. 

With economic recovery, art centers again 
emerged. Stuttgart came to the fore, owing to 
Willi Baumeister's influence. Baumeister, con- 
sistently buüding up his own non-objective but 
myth-inspired forms from picture to picture, found 
a comrade-in-arms in a collector named Donmick. 
In Berlin, old Karl Hofer could give the academy he 
headed a vigorous profile by calling on new, younger 
men. He was especially successful in sculpture: 
Karl Härtung, the portraitist Bernhard Heiliger, 
and the metal-former Hans Uhlmann made of the 
Island city of West Berlin a focal point of the search 
for sculptural forms. As painters, Theodor Werner 

(born in 1886) and young Heinz Trökes (born in 
1913) lent the charm of their suggestive Personali- 
ties to the politically awkward Berlin climate. 

Munich, as the art center of the Third Reich, was 
burdened with all sorts of reactionary incrustations. 
It was fortunate to have art dealers such as Günther 
Franke and the Stangl Galleries; working hand in 
hand with such museum directors as Ludwig Grothe 
(formerly of the Bauhaus) and Eberhard Hanf- 
staengl, they accomplished a relatively rapid clean- 
up of the ideological rubble. There was no new 
production of actual interest, however, until Fritz 
Winter came back from Russian captivity. 

Another center, perhaps the decisive one, lies in 
the Rhenish-Westphalian cities from Cologne to 
Münster. In this area of heavy industry, precision 
mechanics, commerce, textile manufacture, and last 
but not least, capital concentration, art has to con- 
tend daily — "existentially," as it were — with the 
realities. Cologne, as an ancient Christian metropo- 
lis, was always open to metaphysics in art; ev^en in 
ruins it became a capital of the new trends, with 
a collector named Haubrich setting the pace. 
Then, still in the sign of reconstruction, young 
and old art dealers — the Spiegel, Rusche, and 
Moeller galleries — managed to gather so many 
productive individuals around them that an essen- 
tially artistic milieu of intrigues, competitions, and 
friendships grew apace. Such recognized artists as 
Matare, Marcks, Meistermann, Berke, and the 
sculptor Ludwig Gies were joined by gifted new 
faces. Josef Fassbender (born in 1903) embodied 
the Rhenish inclination to surrealism — Max Ernst 
was born in a village near Cologne! — in a colorful, 
imaginative mixture of drawing and painting. An- 
other was Hann Trier (born in 1915) whose bold, 
extensive **handwriting" was soon to be noticed 

In the textile towns of Krefeld and Wuppertal 
a thoroughly practical search for textile designing 
ideas had long since turned the silk manufacturers 
into avid collectors, chiefly of Klee and Kandinsky. 
Beside these older cities with their patrician tra- 
ditions, the Ruhr coal-mining town of Reckling- 
hausen shows a different pattern. Here labor festi- 
vals are held by the unions each summer with art 
shows that confront ancient and modern art and 
thus exert a great educational attraction on popu- 
lation strata heretofore removed from any art. As 
seat of the Junger Westen society of artists, Reck- 
linghausen has encouraged such promising new 
talents as Thomas Grochowiak, Emil Schumacher, 
M. L. Rogister, Hans Werdehausen, and Wilhelm 

The semi-official German Artists Federation, sup- 
ported by the federal government, arranges annual 
shows which considerably illuminate the Situation. 
Furthermore, a word must be said about German 
art journalism. It is anything but dull, and such 
papcrs as the Neue Zeitung — which was backed by 

the U.S. Department of State until 1955 — have 
done much to remove misconceptions and to create 
understanding for the new age. Critics such as 
Professor Will Grohmann and Werner Haftmann 
have been invaluable molders of opinion. Docw- 
mentüy the great exhibition in the summer of 1955 in 
Kassel, must also be cited here; thanks largely 
to the Support of American museums, it was able 
to show the past half Century of modern art com- 
prehensively and emphatically enough to arouse 
uncommon interest and an enormous echo. As 
by magic, the power and quality of the objects 
assembled in Kassel broke the spcll of prejudices 
left over from Nazi times. 

What, then, is the actual Situation today, eleven 
years after the armistice? Self-confidently German 
Standards have not been able to evolve as yet, for 
two reasons: 

a. Berlin, the formerly unquestioned, even 
though not universally beloved capital of the Reich, 
has dropped out for the present, without finding a 
successor. There is no central "arena*' for artists 
to compete in, as they do in Paris, London, or New 
York. Attempts on the part of Bonn, the federal 
capital, to step in are doomed by conservative 
overcautiousness, in spite of undeniably good will. 

b. Art itself has become largely, even though not 
exclusively, supranational. Except for a few basic 
structural dispositions — including, among the 
Germans, a spontaneous inclination to graphic art, 
a skeptical attitude toward mere peinturey and a 
daemonic love of gestural expressiveness — na- 
tional traits are now seldom recognizable as de- 
terminants of value. W^e do not say they have 
disappeared altogether; but they are found in the 
roots of creation rather than in the physiognomy 
of the created works. The arts are looking for a 
supranational language. It is only natural, there- 
fore, to find the "decentralized*' German artists of 
today looking beyond more than within the frontiers 
of their country for their Standards, inspirations, 
and provocations. And they look not only to Paris 
but also to Amsterdam, Basle, Milan, and Venice. 

From Paris, Hans Härtung frequently comes to 
Germany; as a compatriot, even though a natural- 
ized Frenchman, he is here highly regarded and 
indeed invested with a sort of Pythian authority. 
He communicated the graphic world of the Far East 
to the Germans: calligraphy toiling over objects of 
metallic obstinacy, against the blues and greens of 
Dufy-type backgrounds, and transforming tension 
into a lightning-like dynamism. From Paris, too, 
came the subsequently fascinating vogue of another 
compatriot, the painter Wols (really Wolfgang 
Schulze, 1913-51). His existential "disruption of 
matter'* has become fashionable in many places 
under the name "tachism" and is now beginning to 

infect the Germans. They rightly sense in it a 
dangerously "unformal*' but nevertheless service- 
able means of escaping from the strait jacket of 
geometrical combinations, and at the same time — 
no less urgently desirable — from the equally strong 
magnetism of Picasso, Klee, and Miro. 

This compulsion to search individually marks the 
immediate present of German art. '*Why'* — the 
American reader may ask, looking in wonder at the 
illustrations to this article — "why is German art so 
overwhelmingly non-figurative?" One answcr can 
be found, I believe, in our recent history. 

The directed art of the Nazi dictatorship was 
exclusively concerned with depicting its objective 
environment; and consequently, with few excep- 
tions, every non-abstract artistic effort was bound 
to be discredited along with the despotism. To a 
majority of artists, liberation was synonymous 
with liberation from the tyranny of depicting. In 
the realms of art, aesthetic value has always de- 
pended on the degree of *'translation" — how 
much more so in this Situation, where terror had 
dictated '*non-translation"! 

Aside from this political argument, however, 
there was another one. German art with its " Nor- 
dic" basic inclination to unsensual linearity, its 
more or less conscious detachment from the canoni- 
cal ideality of the Mediterranean, has always 
yielded to a strongly abstract urge in its great and 
flowering periods. In the art of the German Refor- 
mation this shows now as eremitic musing, now as 
expressive distortion, now as delight in decorative 
follies — but it is always confessional intemperance 
trying to capture the infinite pictorially, as the 
Irish miniaturists had tried to do centuries earlier. 
In the grandiose graphic curvatures of Baidung 
Grien, Urs Graf, Altdorfer, Wolf Huber, the long- 
despised ** German flourish" Stands for this daring 
attempt to force even the non-visible world visually 
into the picture, by the means of "absolute" art. 

This attempt with absolute means kept failing for 
centuries. German painting remained silent. About 
1800, Caspar David Friedrich's and Runge's effort 
lo forge a "romantic" cosmic tool from the scant 
lineament of classicism remained an interlude with- 
out an echo. Then, all at once, at the beginning of 
the present Century and following the emphatically 
"translating" world interpretation of Van Gogh, 
Gauguin, or Munch, German art feit the approach 
of its hour. Kandinsky and Jawlensky, Russian 
aristocrats whose powerful imaginations had not 
been funneled through Latin traditions, helped the 
Germans to recall the absolute formal means innate 
in their own art. They resolved to apply them. 
The Die Brücke painters in Dresden came before 
the public simultaneously with Picasso's revolution- 
ary Demoiselles d'Avignon. In 1911, at last, in the 
work of the Munich Blaue Reiter group, German art 
appeared for the first time in centuries as an equal in 
the concert of Western spiritual power. What was 

more obvious than to return to the consciousness of 
these same forces after the painful, terrifying inter- 
val of 1933-45? These forces had led from Die 
Brücke to the late Max Beckmann, from the Blaue 
Reiter to the flowering of the Dessau Bauhaus. 
Why should they not be a base for new explorations? 

Where do we stand now? Wehere, and how, docs 
German art reflect the world of today and the ex- 
istence of tomorrow? Where, and how, does it in- 
terpret and — initially just in the realm of art, of 
course — shape them in advance? With the death 
of Willi Baumeister (1889-1955) one of the personal 
magnetic centers has vanished; but his late works, 
such as Wind (see Plate 1) emit Stimuli of undi- 
minished fruitfulness in their lyrical, vegetative 
rhythms and especially in the "black magic" of 
their inverted relief shapes (called Montaru). A 
human magnetism of comparable strength — a 
category that is not quite identical with the final 
volume of work — now goes out mainly from Fritz 
Winter. A brilliant and inspired teacher at the 
Kassel Werkakademie, he manages to convey the 
Bauhaus ideas of totality to younger men, and at 
the same time to display in his pictures (Plate 
5) a versatility preparing constantly for new ad- 
vances. Winter keeps "on the nerve" of time, so 
to speak, without breaking faith with himself. 
His most recent paintings — now on view in the 
United States — pursue a remarkably cheerful illu- 
mination of color and relaxation of form. 

Beside Winter, other painters of comparable 
relevance seem rather self-centered hermits. They 
do not withdraw romantically from the world, but 
they remain in comparative isolation. A certain 
agreement on goals is apparent among the German 
representatives of the new peinture informelle: 
Bernhard Schultze and Platschek of Frankfurt, 
Emil Schumacher of Hagen, Wilhelm Wessel of 
Iserlohn. But most of the rest, even if they are 
active teaching — as Meistermann at the Düssel- 
dorf Academy or Fassbender at the Krefeld Werk- 
schule — work by themselves. Meistermann, famous 
and much sought-after as a glass painter and thus 
somewhat estranged from free invention, now seeks 
new color intensity from a reduction of the format. 
This desirable concentration lends a fascinating 
power to his tiny The Tent (Plate 12). 

Ernst Wilhelm Nay, submitting to the severest 
tests over the decades, now plays with manifold 
ovals in brilliant Suspension, as in Chromatics Strong 
and Tender (Plate 2). Josef Fassbender (Plate 3) 
expertly masters shrewd effects learned in print- 
making, and thence, in many values, steps up 
the intricate convolution of his wistful labyrinths. 
The result is cryptical, involving the observer by 
Suggestion. Hann Trier "writes" his sketches of 
poetic reality with a far-reaching tcmperament. 

lately chained by subtie reserve (Plate 7). Hans 
Jaenisch (born in 1907) is capable of showing 
strength in delicacy (Plalc 10) unless he succumbs to 
fashionable notions. Heinz Trökes, now settied in 
Hamburg, knits nets of color from originally Sur- 
realist ideas — nets so fine and tight that breaks 
and reflections miraculously enable him lo handle 
spalial dimensions. His pictures such as Parts of 
the Whole (Plale 4) soar like sheet lightning over 
magical distances. 

The young German painters seem lo tend more 
and more to consolidate visionary "views" of the 
earth into a new landscape. In the case of Harry 
Kögler of Berlin (born in 1921) this tendency goes 
back to the montage techniques of the early Bau- 
meister and the gifted Kurt Schwitters, who died in 
1948 as an emigre in Britain; in the case of K. R. H. 
Sonderborg of Hamburg (born in 1923) it aims at an 
intimate, all but graphic union of dosest proximity 
and sudden distance; in the case of Hans Werde- 
hausen of Essen (born in 1910) it tries out the 
dramatic way of merging different views in pathos 
(Plate 6). But everywhere it shows a purpose, now 
that the abstract manual of arms has been run 
through, to use abstraction so as to grasp, unveil, 
and visualize a new world reality. (This, by the 
way, is quite in line with the trend in American 
painting, from Mark Tobey and De Kooning to 
Sam Francis and Chelimsky.) 

The fact that the names mentioned here can 
do no more than indicate a cross section of the 
manifold, abundant, dialectically interesting, and 
frequently contradictory flora of German art will 
kindly have to be pardoned by the reader, as well 
as by the unmenlioned artists. Füll, comprehensive 
justice cannot be done within the främework of a 
magazine; that would take a whole book. In clos- 
ing, we give only one palpable instance of contra- 
dictoriness: the two pictures, Lofthus (Plate 13) by 
the mature Schmidt-Rottluff (born in 1884), and 
Abstraktion XLVI (Plate 9) by a man only two 
years younger, Theodor Werner (born in 1886). 
Here we have two members of the same generation, 
one realizing a visionary expressionism in non- 
objectivity, the other a supercharged dynamism. 

WiiAT is the State of German sculpture today? 
In so far as it tried to present the human body more 
or less in its own image — i.e. not "too much'' 
deformed — sculpture was the art most exposed to 
Nazi blandishments. A few great talents were 
actually seduced; on the other band, Hermann 
Blumenthal (Plate 18), the greatest hope, a master 
of the abstract " construction " of bodies, was killed 
m the war. When a kind of balance sheet could 
finally be drawn after the end of the terror, few of 
the older sculptors proved capable of giving new 
Impulses to a new age. 

We have already mentioned Ewald Matare (born 
in 1887). Having managed to survive, at least, in 
the shadow of the Church — not without gratefully 
deferring lo its sacerdolal wishes — he prompt ly 
pulled himself togelher and returned lo work 
Casting sparks in many direclions. The greater the 
challenge, the more original the reply of his imagi- 
nalion. No wonder it was kindled by a task such as 
the new portals for the southern Iransept of Cologne 
Cathedral (Plates 22, 23). Over the four gate 
niches of the unfortunately Neo-Gothic front he 
cast a daring nel of wholly asymmelrical forms, an 
expression of strong, purely spiritual autonomy. 

Gerhard Marcks (born in 1889) shows extreme 
sensitivity, especially in painstakingly formed por- 
traits. Now and then — as in his monument for the 
victims of the bombing of Hamburg (Plate 24) — 
he achieves a peculiar, oddly magical form by com- 
bining classicism with expressionism. Toni Stadler 
(born in 1888 in Munich and working ihere now) 
responds to the Latin South and draws on para- 
phrases of Mediterranean, moslly Etruscan sculp- 
ture for the vigor of his unmistakably personal 
poetry. From his sculptures such as Head of a Boy 
(Plale 17) a lyrical breath issues without slrayihg 
into pseudo-idyllics. 

The growing formal power which Bernhard Heili- 
ger (born in 1915, and now professor at the Acad- 
emy in Berlin) acquired over the years in rubbcd- 
slone porlrails (Plate 15) has encouraged him lo 
try such greal designs as the Symbol of River 
Namgaiion (Plate 21) for a new bridge over the 
Neckar. Karl Härtung (born in 1908, and also a 
Professor at the Berlin Academy) has lately reap- 
proached the problem of the whole figure from the 
opposile direclion: unqueslionably the greatest 
finder of non-objeclive forms in German sculpture, 
he wants to use his experience with "free" imagcs 
for the construction of bodies. The group at the 
gate wall of the hospital in Marl (Plate 20) circum- 
scribes an '* absolute'* ensemble by means of seem- 
ingly natural bodies. As in recent painting, this road 
also leads to a new kind of reality. Hans Uhlmann 
(born in 1900, another professor at the Berlin 
Academy) realizes brittle and sometimes vibrant 
metal constructions (Plate 16). Rolf Nesch (born 
in 1893), an emigre in Norway, has gone from metal 
printing refinements to a highly original mixture of 
graphic art and relief sculpture (enamel-inlaid cop- 
per; Plate 19). 

We come now to German architecture. Under the 
dictatorship it had the worst time, being most 
thoroughly harnessed. Every despotism seeks its 
immediate "expression" in huge, representative 
and representatively intimidating edifices. Archi- 
tecture becomes directly enslavcd. Thus the elite 
of German architects were virtually compelled to 
flee into exile after 1933, among them Walter 
Gropius, once head of the Bauhaus^ and Mies van 
der Rohe, who have remained in America ever sincc. 

Every deviation from the prescribed "line** — a 
sodden, desolate, fourth-rate classicism — was re- 
garded as a provocation hostile to the State. Not 
the Studios alone, but even the chairs of architecture 
at the German academies were emptied. There 
remained technicians and engineers — competent 
men without Imagination. 

Accordingly, when reconstruction of the de- 
stroyed German cities and towns began about 
1948, there was no dearth of technical specialists, 
but rather of the designing artists who had once 
given German architecture its truly world-wide 
importance. Considering this emigration of pro- 
ductive minds, and considering further how largely 
reconstruction depended on the existing Under- 
ground Utility and sewage Systems, how greatly it 
was hampered by the chaos in real estate, how 
much could and had to be improvised for the time 
being — considering all this, we can grant all justi- 
fied complaints of missed opportunities and yet 
marvel slightly that despite these paralyzing diffi- 
culties a good measure of architectural inventive- 
ness could prevail in the welter of postwar building. 

The Devil of forced classicism may have been 
driven out of German reconstruction only to be 
replaced with the Beelzebub of a no less barren 
mass-production style of building — but here and 
there, on the edges of the official and private build- 
ing zeal, we note signs of formal Imagination. And 
happily, as the illustrations prove, the signs are in- 
creasing. On the one band, some outstanding men 
— Ernst May, for instance — have returned from 
exile; on the other, the younger generation is more 
and more dissatisfied with the old, obsolete formal 
canon. Comparisons with neighbor countries, with 
Rotterdam, Milan, and Genoa, the suburbs of 
London, the fascinating buildings by Le Corbusier, 
arouse feelings of inadequacy and occasionally serve 
to spur competitive boldness. We admit that the 
illustrations do not show the average; they have 
been consciously selected from the best. And yet, 
new impulses are feit even in smaller towns, chiefly 
in school and hospital buildings: children and sick 
people are to be given the most modern and the 
healthiest possible surroundings. Department 
Stores and shops, too, have found that the new 
architecture is good publicity. Trade-fair pavilions, 
especially, outdo each other in novelty and daring 

As counterpoise there are the "representative" 
buildings — of banks, industrial concems, govem- 
ment offices — and the one-family homes. For his 
home the typical German wants an expensively 
"cozy" little villa, a descendant of the pleasure 
Castles of eighteenth-century potentates, bedecked 
with architectural fretwork, a seashell of a house. 
Of course, this desire may also be due to the German 
climate, which does not invite too radical a baring 
of the core of a house. 

We may look forward eagerly to this year's 
Berlin Building Exhibition and its possible conse- 
quences. It will be tied to the reconstruction of the 
wholly destroyed Hansa section of West Berlin, 
and the city, with the support of the federal gov- 
emment, has commissioned some leading architects 
of almost all nations to design buildings for it. 

Church-building also looks and gropes for new 
ways. Le Corbusier's miracle at Ronchamps — the 
pilgrims* church on the southwestem slope of the 
Vosges Mountains — fascinates proponents and 
opponents far into the North German hinterland. 
Space limitations unfortunately prevent us from 
listing details. 

Tracking down truly portentous formal forces is 
a depressing business that can suddenly become ex- 
citing and exhilarating. The West German case in 
particular is extraordinarily instructive. The 
country has had to endure and get over a kind of 
clean sweep — first spiritually, then materially. 

Many things that elsewhere remained under cover 
became piain as day. Thus it became piain that 
even so enlightening a "Point Zero" will not keep 
some basic follies from thriving again. But it be- 
came piain, too, that with human dignity regained, 
the free forces of free invention will instantly stir as 
well. Art is alwa3rs evidence of freedom. These 
who underwent complete enslavement personally, 
or experienced it in their environment, will — if 
they are able to think at all — be obliged to recog- 
nize and honor even seeming excrescences as signs 
of human liberty. We should not allow our moat 
precious possession, this freedom to create and to 
find forms, to be denied or delimited by anyone, 
whoever it may be. At the start we hear of healthy 
regulation of the arts; the end is liquidation in ex- 
termination camps. The Germans were taught this 
lesson. May they never forget it. 

Trandated hy E. B. Athlon 


lately chained by subtle reserve (Plate 7). Hans 
Jaenisch (born in 1907) is capable of showing 
strength in delicacy (Plate 10) unless he succumbs to 
fashionable notions. Heinz Trökes, now settled in 
Hamburg, knils nels of color from originally Sur- 
realist ideas — nets so fine and tight that breaks 
and reflections miraculously enable him to handle 
spatial dimensions. His pictures such as Parts of 
the Whole (Plate 4) soar like sheet lightning over 
magical distances. 

The young German painters seem to tend more 
and more to consolidate visionary "views" of the 
earth into a new landscape. In the case of Harry 
Kögler of Berlin (born in 1921) this tendency goes 
back to the montage techniques of the early Bau- 
meister and the gifted Kurt Schwitters, who died in 
1948 as an emigre in Britain; in the case of K. R. H. 
Sonderborg of Hamburg (born in 1923) it aims at an 
intimate, all but graphic union of dosest proximity 
and sudden distance; in the case of Hans Werde- 
hausen of Essen (born in 1910) it tries out the 
dramatic way of merging different views in pathos 
(Plate 6). But everywhere it shows a purpose, now 
that the abstract manual of arms has been run 
through, to use abstraction so as to grasp, unveil, 
and visualize a new world reality. (This, by the 
way, is quite in line with the trend in American 
painting, from Mark Tobey and De Kooning to 
Sam Francis and Chelimsky.) 

The fact that the names mentioned here can 
do no more than indicate a cross section of the 
manifold, abundant, dialectically interesting, and 
frequently contradictory flora of German art will 
kindly have to be pardoned by the reader, as well 
as by the unmentioned artists. Füll, comprehensive 
justice cannot be done within the främework of a 
magazine; that would take a whole book. In clos- 
ing, we give only one palpable instance of contra- 
dictoriness: the two pictures, Lofthus (Plate 13) by 
the mature Schmidt-RottlufF (born in 1884), and 
Abstraction XLVI (Plate 9) by a man only two 
years younger, Theodor Werner (born in 1886). 
Here we have two members of the same generation, 
one realizing a visionary expressionism in non- 
objectivity, the other a supercharged dynamism. 

What is the State of German sculpture today? 
In so far as it tried to present the human body more 
or less in its own image — i.e. not "too much'* 
deformed — sculpture was the art most exposed to 
Nazi blandishments. A few great talents were 
actually seduced; on the other band, Hermann 
Blumen thal (Plate 18), the greatest hope, a master 
of the abstract "construction" of bodies, was killed 
in the war. When a kind of balance sheet could 
finally be drawn after the end of the terror, few of 
the older sculptors proved capable of giving new 
Impulses to a new age. 

We have already mentioned Ewald Matare (born 
in 1887). Having managed to survive, at least, in 
the shadow of the Church — not without gratefully 
deferring to its sacerdotal wishes — he promptly 
pulled himself together and returned to work, 
Casting sparks in many directions. The greater the 
challenge, the more original the reply of his imagi- 
nation. No wonder it was kindled by a task such as 
the new portals for the southern transept of Cologne 
Cathedral (Plates 22, 23). Over the four gate 
niches of the unfortunately Neo-Gothic front he 
cast a daring net of whoUy asymmetrical forms, an 
expression of strong, purely spiritual autonomy. 

Gerhard Marcks (born in 1889) shows extreme 
sensitivity, especially in painstakingly formed por- 
traits. Now and then — as in his monument for the 
victims of the bombing of Hamburg (Plate 24) — 
he achieves a peculiar, oddly magical form by com- 
bining classicism with expressionism. Toni Stadler 
(born in 1888 in Munich and working there now) 
responds to the Latin South and draws on para- 
phrases of Mediterranean, mostly Etruscan sculp- 
ture for the vigor of his unmistakably personal 
poetry. From his sculptures such as Head of a Boy 
(Plate 17) a lyrical breath issues without strayihg 
into pseudo-idyllics. 

The growing formal power which Bernhard Heili- 
ger (born in 1915, and now professor at the Acad- 
emy in Berlin) acquired over the years in rubbed- 
stone portraits (Plate 15) has encouraged him to 
try such great designs as the Symbol of River 
Navigation (Plate 21) for a new bridge over the 
Neckar. Karl Härtung (born in 1908, and also a 
professor at the Berlin Academy) has lately reap- 
proached the problem of the whole figure from the 
opposite direction: unquestionably the greatest 
finder of non-objective forms in German sculpture, 
he wants to use his experience with "free" images 
for the construction of bodies. The group at the 
gate wall of the hospital in Marl (Plate 20) circum- 
scribes an "absolute" ensemble by means of seem- 
ingly natural bodies. As in recent painting, this road 
also leads to a new kind of reality. Hans Uhlmann 
(born in 1900, another professor at the Berlin 
Academy) realizes brittle and sometimes vibrant 
metal constructions (Plate 16). Rolf Nesch (born 
in 1893), an emigre in Norway, has gone from metal 
printing refinements to a highly original mixture of 
graphic art and relief sculpture (enamel-inlaid cop- 
per; Plate 19). 

We come now to German architecture. Under the 
dictatorship it had the worst time, being most 
thoroughly harnessed. Every despotism seeks its 
immediate "expression" in huge, representative 
and representatively intimidating edifices. Archi- 
tecture becomes directly enslaved. Thus the elite 
of German architects were virtually compelled to 
flee into exile after 1933, among them Walter 
Gropius, once head of the Bauhaiis, and Mies van 
der Rohe, who have remained in America ever since. 

Every deviation from the prescribed "line" — a 
sodden, desolate, fourth-rate classicism — was re- 
garded as a provocation hostile to the State. Not 
the Studios alone, but even the chairs of architecture 
at the German academies were emptied. There 
remained technicians and engineers — competent 
men without imagination. 

Accordingly, when reconstruction of the de- 
stroyed German cities and towns began about 
1948, there was no dearth of technical specialists, 
but rather of the designing artists who had once 
given German architecture its truly world-wide 
importance. Considering this emigration of pro- 
ductive minds, and considering further how largely 
reconstruction depended on the existing Under- 
ground Utility and sewage Systems, how greatly it 
was hampered by the chaos in real estate, how 
much could and had to be improvised for the time 
being — considering all this, we can grant all justi- 
fied complaints of missed opportunities and yet 
marvel slightly that despite these paralyzing diffi- 
culties a good measure of architectural inventive- 
ness could prevail in the welter of postwar building. 
The Devil of forced classicism may have been 
driven out of German reconstruction only to be 
replaced with the Beelzebub of a no less barren 
mass-production style of building — but here and 
there, on the edges of the official and private build- 
ing zeal, we note signs of formal imagination. And 
happily, as the illustrations prove, the signs are in- 
creasing. On the one band, some outstanding men 
— Ernst May, for instance — have returned from 
exile; on the other, the younger generation is more 
and more dissatisfied with the old, obsolete formal 
canon. Comparisons with neighbor countries, with 
Rotterdam, Milan, and Genoa, the suburbs of 
London, the fascinating buildings by Le Corbusier, 
arouse feelings of inadequacy and occasionally serve 
to spur competitive boldness. We admit that the 
illustrations do not show the average; they have 
been consciously selected from the best. And yet, 
new Impulses are feit even in smaller towns, chiefly 
in school and hospital buildings: children and sick 
people are to be given the most modern and the 
healthiest possible surroundings. Department 
Stores and shops, too, have found that the new 
architecture is good publicity. Trade-fair pavilions, 
especially, outdo each other in novelty and daring 

As counterpoise there are the "representative" 
buildings — of banks, industrial concems, govem- 
ment offices — and the one-family homes. For his 
home the typical German wants an expensively 
"eozy" little villa, a descendant of the pleasure 
Castles of eighteenth-century potentates, bedecked 
with architectural fretwork, a seashell of a house. 
Of course, this desire may also be due to the German 
climate, which does not invite too radical a baring 
of the core of a house. 

We may look forward eagerly to this year*s 
Berlin Building Exhibition and its possible conse- 
quences. It will be tied to the reconstruction of the 
whoUy destroyed Hansa section of West Berlin, 
and the city, with the support of the federal gov- 
emment, has commissioned some leading architects 
of almost all nations to design buildings for it. 

Church-building also looks and gropes for new 
wajrs. Le G>rbusier*s miracle at Ronchamps — the 
pilgrims' church on the southwestem slope of the 
Vosges Mountains — fascinates proponents and 
opponents far into the North German hinterland. 
Space limitations unfortunately prevent us from 
Ikting details. 

Tracking down truly portentous formal forces is 
a depressing business that can suddenly become ex- 
citing and exhilarating. The West German case in 
particular is extraordinarily instructive. The 
country has had to endure and get over a kind of 
clean sweep — first spiritually, then materially. 

Many things that elsewhere remained under cover 
became piain as day. Thus it became piain that 
even so enlightening a "Point Zero" will not keep 
some basic follies from thriving again. But it be- 
came piain, too, that with human dignity regained, 
the free forces of free invention will instantly stir as 
well. Art is always evidence of freedom. These 
who underwent complete enslavement personally, 
or experienced it in their environment, will — if 
they are able to think at all — be obliged to recog- 
nize and honor even seeming exerescences as signs 
of human liberty. We should not allow our most 
precious possession, this freedom to create and to 
find forms, to be denied or delimited by anyone, 
whoever it may be. At the Start we hear of healthy 
regulation of the arts; the end is liquidation in ex- 
termination camps. The Germans were taught this 
lesson. May they never forget it. 

Tran^atei by E. B. AshUm 


Main Currents of Postwar German Writing 

ONE cannot discuss postwar German literature 
without considering the political and social 
Situation of the country. The unconditional 
surrender of 1945 brought, after all, not only libera- 
tion from Fascist tyranny but also an almost total 
disintegration of national life. Hitler seemed to have 
reduced German history to absurdity, with many of 
the most cherished political and cultural traditions 
now appearing in a dubious, if not diabolical light. 
"Germany" has since been a kind of permanent 
makeshift without faith in itself. Estranged from 
their past, her people do not live in harmony with 
their prescnt. The lack of national unity is the 
reason — or, if not the reason, it is the symbol for a 
prevailing sense of unreality and transience. 

There is something equally provisional and dis- 
contented about literary life in Germany today. 
It sufTers from profound misgivings about itself. 
In the Federal Republic, to be sure, economic pros- 
perity has been accompanied by a veritable over- 
production of high- and low-class foods and stimu- 
lants for the mind, distributed by a "cultural in- 
dustry" whose perpetual motion spreads an atmos- 
phere of hothouse luxuriance. Book production has 
risen to dizzy heights: more than ten thousand titles 
a year are published in West Germany alone. And 
yct, both public opinion and populär criticism are 
convinced that nothing essen tially new has hap- 
pened in the field of German literature since the war. 
Today 's equivalent of the rebellious optimism of 

Hans Egon Holthusen, hörn in 1913, and edticated at 
Tühingeny Berlin, and Munich, where he now resides, has 
published several volumes of poetry, literary criticism, and 
a few months ago, a first novel. He lectured at Harvard 
Summer School in 195^, and his study of the poet Rilke 
has been published in translation in this country. 

the "roaring twenties" is a general inferiority com- 
plex, although there is no dearth of notable talent. 
The public believes in some great names of the old 
generation; it does not believe in the existence of a 
living German literature. 

This discomfort, less critical than depressive in 
character, rests largely on a fundamental mis- 
understanding of the Situation in the history of 
arts and letters. The great dates of literary history 
have hardly ever coincided with the turning points 
of political history. Thus the unlamented fade-out 
of a kind of writing that served ideological and 
Propagandist purposes was not so much a spiritual 
event as a political consequencc; the year 1945 
was no "epochal" date in the realm of art — for our 
terms "modern poetry" and "modern art" denote 
an epoch which by now encompasses nearly half a 
Century. The language of modern literature has 
emerged from a revolution that occurred roughly 
between 1910 and about 1925. It was then that the 
great, still dominant break-throughs were made, in 
Germany as well as in England, France, America, 
Italy, and Russia. It was then that the new prov- 
inces of expression, in which we now move, were 
conquered. So far-reaching a formal and thematic 
upheaval cannot be accomplished in a few years. It 
must be followed by a longer period of absorption, 
by a phase of training in the new language, of 
cultivation and cautious expansion of the newly 
won fields. If today we find nothing absolutely new 
in any Western literature, this is because ours has 
been a post-revolutionary Situation for at least 
three decades. 

A critic trying to do justice to contemporary 
German literary activity will almost certainly find 
the true progress not in the displays of pseudo- 
revolutionary attitudes but in the manifestations 

of uncommon quality. And if he goes by his sense 
of quality only, he can hardly deny that the quan- 
tity of talent is considerable. Above all, this is true 
of lyric poetry — always a form of expression partic- 
ularly well suited to the spirit of the German lan- 
guage, and one which time and again has helped 
it realize its füll potential. 

There is a large number of noteworthy poets who 
still feel indebted to the classic and romantic tradi- 
tions of German verse and know how to combine a 
"conservative" formula with the impulses of mod- 
ern experience. On the other band, scores of younger 
authors practice the different variants of the Sur- 
realist manner and have developed a sort of collec- 
tive style that makes their poetic individualities 
all but indiscernible. Between these two wings, 
the formal conservatives and the formal surrealists, 
we find the outstanding talents of all ages moving 
along a road that has its origin, its language-his- 
torical premises, in the expressionist movement of 
the years from 1910 to 1925. And the man who 
exerted the greatest influence after the war was an 
aged Protagonist of that earlier literary revolution, 
a poet who had won his spurs and stunned the burgh- 
ers with the furious daring of his innovations just 
before World War I: Gottfried Benn, a Berlin 
dermatologist who was born in 1886 and died only 
last summer. 

The youthful Benn, author of some of the most 
frightful and rabid poems ever written in the 
German language, might be described as a German 
counterpart of T. S. Eliot's early Bostonian period. 
A radical disillusionment with the bourgeois world, 
a grim scorn for social, sexual, aesthetic, and linguis- 
tic taboos, a medically based obsession with the 
phenomena of physical and mental decay — these 
were the mainsprings that enabled him to penetrate 
to a new truth about man. The most impressive 
aspect of this poetry was a strangely harmonious 
balance between disenchantment and intoxication. 
The classic Western view of the world was re- 
placed by a historic-biological vision encompassing 
the "hominine age" as a whole — the human species 
of the Quatemary — and this species was seen as 
living in the sign of perdition. Nietzsche was the 
prophet of this terminal Situation; the theme that 
Benn conceived as unavoidable fate and varied over 
a lifetime was the Nietzschean theme of "nihilism." 
However, in Benn's version it acquired a peculiarly 
positive meaning: "Nihilism is a sense of happi- 
ness." Benn believed in the "form-seeking power of 
nothingness." He held that if all traditional truths 
have become invalid, if the mere possibility of truth 
is no longer acceptable, there still remains something 
above change and decay: artistie form, the "abso- 
lute" work of art, which like a scarab outlasts the 
fugacity of time. 

Around 1933 Benn had briefly identified himself 
with Nazism, falsely mistaking its ideology for 
his own intellectualist biologism. But very soon 

he withdrew in deep disillusionment, to submerge as 
an army surgeon in the Wehrmacht which was then 
still anti-Nazi and in which he thought he saw an 
" aristocratic form of emigration." In 1949 he re- 
tumed from abroad and reappeared before the Ger- 
man public, after long years of Nazi and Allied 
bans, with a violent proclamation of expression- 
ism*s "Second Phase" — and he succeeded not only 
in winning over the critics but in arousing the 
enthusiasm of the young. 

The message Benn brought had been known for 
decades, but only now was it fully grasped and 
appreciated as the expression of a public attitude 
and the definition of a universally valid historic 
Situation. No one, it seemed, was more in accord 
with the pessimism of the German intellectuals, with 
their grimly skeptical view of all the ideological 
constructions of their time, than this old man who 
was to show an amazing productivity in the last 
decade of his life. Nor did anyone do as much to 
accommodate certain escapist tendencies regarding 
history — which Benn, with dogged consistency, 
characterized as a bloody, nonsensical chaos, good 
for nothing but to goad the thinking and creative 
genius into greater efforts. No one coined such 
brilliant cynicisms about the tragic blindness of 
the political world, about the rummage sale of all 
traditions of the spirit in the chaos of modern 
civilization; but neither did anyone eise attain the 
intoxicating power of expression and the pensive 
mellowness of Benn's versemaking art. 

Benn's intellectual position in a dying culture 
shaken by basic disasters was challenged by others 
who reached very different Solutions, trying to 
phrase Christian, existentialist, or "humanist" 
messages. In contrast to these poets there is a third 
group, a school that has been striving for decades 
to revive the tradition of the German "nature 
poem" with' the linguistic means of the post-ex- 
pressionist era. This new plunge into the Pandean 
and elementary, expressed with an unprecedented 
precision of language and virtually fanatic sensi- 
tivity, is nothing but the idyllic counterpart of 
Benn's elegiac skepticism about history. It has been 
termed "embittered idyllicism." Deeply pagan 
moods are voiced in it, particularly by Wilhelm 
Lehmann, the seventy-five-year-old leader of the 
nature-lyrical school. He is the stubborn disclaimer 
of the historic life that fluctuates in the city, the 
discoverer of the Pandean noon hour which threat- 
ens to deprive man of his seif, the hour that can be 
either enjoyed or suffered as a feeling of nihilist 
indifference. But he does believe in an immanent 
world soul, revealed in the omnipresence of mythical 

I^hmann's younger followers have frequently 
relaxed the rigidity of the nature-lyrical formula to 

Vary and enlarge its list of themes. Experiences of 
war and captivily and social and moral subjects of 
the postwar period have been dealt with, notably 
by Günter Eich (born in 1907) and Heinz Piontek 
(bom in 1925). The most prolific and perhaps the 
most important poet of the Ix'hmann school is 
Karl Krolow (born in 1915). Starting from the 
simplest, idyllic-bucolic themes, Krolow has over 
the years, by his word-discovering instinct and his 
fantastic, adventurously ranging metaphorics, ex- 
panded the limits of poetic expression beyond any- 
thing attempted by others of his generation. He 
deals not only with the Pandean noon but also, and 
most impressively, with the daemonic nocturnal 
side of nature — repeated in the historic world as 
terror, war, and anarchy. 

One of the most gifted of the youngcr poets is 
Ingeborg Bachmann. Because she is Austrian, I 
must arbitrarily pass over her work (as also, I must 
slight the Rumanian cxile Paul Celan, or, in the 
field of the novel, the Nobel Prize winner Hermann 
Hesse, and others whose writings are vital forces 
in the German language literary Community), but 
her influence is already considerable. 

lo EXAMINE the present Situation of the German 
novel is to discover, first of all, that the broad stream 
of artistically formed prose has lately split into two 
branches: a purely fictional one, and a non-fictional 
one that produces essayistic, documentary, and 
diary-type manners of narration. There are still 
many novelists whom the crisis of the novel — 
marked by the names of Kafka, Joyce, Proust, and 
Musil — has passed by without leaving a trace. 
They use naively conservative storytelling tech- 
niques and can depend on a wide audience. This is 
especially true of a number of very successful and 
much translated authors of emphatically Catholic 
or eise emphatically Protestant bent, such as Ina 
Seidel (born in 1885), Werner Bergcngruen (born in 
1892), Gertrud von Le Port (born in 1876), and Ste- 
fan Andres (bom in 1906). The courage to experi- 
ment is chiefly found among the members of the 
younger generation. Some have managed to de- 
velop new creative forms under the influence of 
modern American writers, others have tried it in 
the footsteps of Kafka. Yet the valid achievements 
are fewer in number than in the lyrical field. 

The foremost, all-overshadowing German novelist 
of the postwar period was, of course, Thomas Mann 
(1875-1955). After the war, when his works were 
put back on the German market, his name reflected 
the glory of a world-wide fame that was accorded to 
no other twentieth-century German author and 
approximated only by Kafka and Rilke. 

And yet his first postwar book, Doctor Faustus 
(1947), was as vehemently criticized as it was ad- 
mired. In this novel Mann had made the reckless 

attempt to compose a narrative symphony about 
the German catastrophe itself, artfully synchroniz- 
ing the tale of the Third Reiches descent to hell with 
the tragic story of a modern musician who has sold 
his soul to the Evil One for **an hour-glass füll of 
ingenious Devil's time." Again — as onee in The 
Magic Mountain — Mann sketched an intellectual 
panorama of an epoch, this time under the gloomiest 
aspects and with an admirably subtle web of motif 
complications, interconnections, and correlations. 
Still, the impression created was that the whole 
German people along with their political and cul- 
tural history should be sent to hell in a body — 
and that, however deftly done, was a simplification 
one could not go along with. A taboo seemed 
violated; the "mystery of evil," which provokes 
more silence than discussion among shuddering 
theologians, seemed to have been too smoothly 
unlocked with the keys of psychology and cultural 

After this, his "wildest" and most painful book. 
Mann returned to subjects easier to grasp and more 
likely fully to succeed. In 1954 he published his 
last masterpiece, the Confessions of Felix Kmll, 
Confidence Man. Gast in the form of a modern 
picaresque tale, it is a compendium of all the 
leitmotifs of his thinking and his imagination, an- 
other paragon of his ironic, ceremoniously involved, 
refinedly exhilarating style. 

A World of high culture and artistic discrimina- 
tion went to the grave with Thomas Mann. Mean- 
while, a new generation had entered the lists, one 
that was "uncultured" in a tragic sense, having 
grown up in a decade of public disasters, in a bar- 
barous, catch-as-catch-can world. War, terror, and 
resistance, total collapse of the fatherland, dissolu- 
tion of all order, then tenacious, sullen survivai 
terminating in a sultry prosperity: these were the 
experiences of the young authors, and they called 
for presentation in adequate form. Many tried to 
approach the task reportorially, many in diaries; 
only a few succeeded in developing a new, "realis- 
tic" literary prose. War books by numerous new 
talents were published, acclaimed, and soon forgot- 
ten. The "front-line experience" of World War I, 
with its either "rightist" or "leftist," militaristic 
or pacifist Interpretation, was seldom repeated. 
World War II was conceived and described rather 
as a religious or an anarchic or nihilistic Situation 
— as in the sketches of Wohgang Borchert. The 
circular image of total senselessness frequently 
recurs — as in the work of Heinrich BöU (born 
in 1917), whose Adam, Where Art Thou? surpasses 
the rest of his generation in poetic vigor. Here 
the war is the ignoble alibi of the human being 
Startled by the question, "Adam, where art thou?" 
It shows a State of being utterly Godforsaken, yet 
not without a hopeful reservation: "We must pray 
to comfort God." 

The best recent German novel, in my opinion, is 

Gerd Gaiser*s The Last Squadron, a prose epic about 
the end of the German Air Force in Norway. This 
book is "realistic" and symbolic at the same time, 
Casting a light of high poetry on the world of tech- 
nological warfare as it shows the tragedy of a group 
of men, a doomed band of cynics and technicians, 
who disappear one by one. The Last Squadron is 
füll of laconic melancholia, of suggestive reticence 
about the enormity of the German soldier's moral 
Situation — a Situation all but impossible to ra- 
tionalize: "There is no way out. To give up your 
mother or your wife because she is the Devil's — 
that you aren*t cut out for." 

Another large group of authors can be character- 
ized by its denial of the "realistic" concept of truth 
as too one-dimensional. They take the view that 
neither the naive logic or real connections nor the 
customary understanding of time and space should 
bind the writer. Though nearly all are influenced by 
Kafka, most of thcm have managed to work out a 
"handwriting" of their own. The Start in this 
direction was made in 1947 by a member of the 
oldcr generation, Hermann Kasack (born in 1896), 
with his book, The City Beyond the River. It is the 
description of a fantastic-allegorical journey through 
a visionary kingdom of the dead, a parable not only 
of the meanir\gless mass existence in a totalitarian 
State but of the crisis of Western civilization as a 
whole. Outstanding among the younger talents 
writing in this style is the Austrian Ilse Aichinger. 

As a form of art, the novel is today considered 
obsolete by many authors. A pure, artistic essay- 
istic prose can arise where the plot of a novel is 
no longer desired — in other words, where the in- 
ventive principle is replaced by a principle of im- 
aginative transformation, of seeing poetic images 
in the given facts of the real world. Aside from 
Thomas Mann, it is a pair of masters of the poeti- 
cally intensified essay who have exerted the great- 
est influence over the past ten years: Gottfried Benn 
and Ernst Jünger. Their common theme is the 
reconnaissance of the intellectual and psychological 
content of the present, the diagnosis of the " jx)si- 
tion." The word "position," of which both are very 
fond, has an undertone of General Staff terminology 
— and this is no accident, since in both cases the 
link with the soldierly life has strongly influenced 
the author's development. 

To Benn, the position — the "Nietzschean Posi- 
tion," as he calls it — is characterized by the final 
" relativation and relativibility of the world of Euro- 
pean thought, the loss of the definite and of the 
absolute." Starting from scientifically, litcrarily, or 
culture-critically posed questions, he proceeds in 
ever-changing, fascinating incantations to depict 
the unbelieving, nihilistically depressed man of our 
day. He calls him "the pheno-type," an expression 
borrowed from biology. Benn's Solution for life is 
to stand firm before a lightless, godless horizon — 
"to live in the dark, to do in the dark what we can/* 

Ernst Jünger (bom in 1895) has also done his 
share of poetic scrutiny and interpretative descrip- 
tion of the volcanic epoch of unleashed technology 
and war that arose with the year 1914. He also 
recognized and appreciated the nihilistic trends of 
cur time. But he was never tempted to surrender to 
a halcyon sense of nothingness and to equate the 
absolute with the phenomenon of art. Throughout 
his life he has striven to find an obligatory meaning 
in the catastrophic processes of history, and to 
define moral values one can live with. At one time, 
about 1920, he had proclaimed a heroic ethos of the 
warrior; later he had championed a militaristic- 
technocratic world of "the worker." But under the 
impression of the Nazi regime*s political reality he 
revised all of his evaluations. His World War II 
diary — written as a captain in the Wehrmacht, and 
published in 1949 under the title Strahlungen {Radi- 
ations) — is a representative testimony to the fight 
for intellectual and moral self-preservation in the 
nether world of a political and military nihilism. It 
is one of the most important war books we possess. 
Jüngeres intense imagination always manages to 
perceive the mythical primal relations in the every- 
day trivia of modem life, the "law of the earth" 
in the facts and in the accidents. 

Jünger has many disciples, friends, and intellec- 
tual relatives, especially in the generation of those 
now in their forties. Benn, as a prose writer, has as 
yet found hardly any important successor; but there 
is one literary document on World War II that often 
equals Bennos texts in expressive power. The au- 
thor was an insignificant German soldier named 
Felix Hartlaub (bom in 1913), a historian in private 
life, conscripted into the army at the outbreak of 
war, and attached in 1942, by an order of seeming 
absurdity, to Hitler*s headquarters as an assistant 
to the "war diarist." Later he was caught up in the 
pandemonium of the battle of Berlin and has since 
been listed as missing. 

Hartlaub's central theme was the military posi- 
tions map at GHQ as the signature of an all-encom- 
passing disaster. To be more specific: what inter- 
ested him was the secret difference between the 
oflficial, politically colored Situation reports and the 
real State of affairs. He saw the General Staff en- 
vironment from the valet's angle, so to speak, and 
recorded what he thought as the last and only 
Chance of truth — that is to say, he saw just how 
much weakness, despair, fear, stupidity, malice, 
triviality, and human mediocrity lay hidden behind 
the ideological and propagandistie pseudo-world, 
behind the illusionism of the positions maps and the 
omamental elan of a terse language of command. 

In conclusion, a man must be named whose pas- 
sion for analyzing his age and its culture, fed by 
intense faith, uses literary forms only to achieve a 
moral and religious awakening: Reinhold Schneider 
(bom in 1903), a Catholic convert. His main field 
18 the poetic essay, his theme the history of Western 
Christendom. He has the audacity once more to 

preach the unconditional iniitation of Christ lo a 
humanity estranged from God and Standing on the 
threshold of barbarism. 

A report on the German drama of the present 
must, of course, first mention Bertolt Brecht (1898- 
1956), our only playwright to develop a novel and 
very personal dramatic style. As the most distin- 
guished representative and enfant gäiS of the East 
Berlin regime he could realize his dramaturgic ideas 
to his heart's content and assemble a brilliant en- 
semble for his political-poetic purposes. In his 
theoretical writings Brecht has explained the prin- 
ciples of his "epic theater**: the illusionary char- 
acter of the classic stage play is to be overcome; 
by the so-called "effects of estrangement " — an- 
nouncements, interpolated songs, self-elucidations 
by the actors, masks that break the illusion — the 
spectator is to be agitationally and educationally 
spurred to action. Brecht was a cardinal example of 
that puzzling split consciousness that lets a man of 
great talent subject the impulses of his political will 
to an anti-truth and anti-human ideology while 
producing true poetry with his creative forces. 

Brecht was especially successful with Mother 
Courage — a dramatic reportage of the Thirty 
Years* War that one cannot but admire as a great 
concept filled with balladesque dynamism — and 
with The Good Woman of Setzuan, a parable play 
about "the defenselessness of gods and good men" 
in a World oppressed by poverty and misery. 

Brecht*8 language is elemental, vigorous, and out- 
spokenly personal. It is piain, sensuous, thrilling, 
expressing certain barbarous traits of the period 
and rough-hewn primitivisms in the consciousness 
of modern man in the mass, but also a deeply mov- 
ing tone of solidarity with all suffering humanity. 

Besides Brecht — and some distance behind him 
— there is but one other dramatist worth mention- 
ing: Carl Zuckmayer (bom in 1896), a last disciple 
of the grand old man of naturalism, Gerhart Haupt- 
mann. Zuckmayer too is a poet of "the people" in 
his own, democratic way; he too, like Brecht, r^ 
tumed from American exile after 1945. His forte is 
the topical play with literary ambitions: war, re- 
sistance, atomic espionage, are his themes. His faith 
in the traditional dramatic plot is unbroken; his 
conflicts and motivations are simple and plausible; 
his Slan vital can be inspiring. 

Of the dramatic authors of the young generation 
none has yet been able to assert himself, though 
many have been honored with world premieres. 
For ten years the German theater's vast need for 
contemporary plays has had to be satisfied by for- 
eign authors. Since the German stages are extraor- 
dinarily numerous, active, and insatiable in 
their hunger for novelties, their repertories offer 
a fairly complete picture of dramatic activities 
throughout the civilized world. 

Translaied by E. B. Aihion 



>H* 'm. fiyK 

j, Sf^ 


rt .-, 


k ■' 




" »' " ' *m 


(The esjoy entitied "Atoms with Hooks and Eyes" is reprinted from the Deutsche Encyklopoedie, 
vol. 8, Werner Heisenberg "Dos Naturbild der heutigen Physik," Rowohlt Verlag, Hamburg.) 




From: Press Office 

German Embassy 
Washington, D.C. 

Enclosed you will find a coUection of material on President 
Theodor Heuss of the Federal Republic of Germany who will 
pay a State Visit to Washington, D.Co , June 4th to 6th. This 
is the first visit by a German Head of State to the United 

FoUowing his visit to Washington, Federal President Heuss 
will set out on a tour of the United States which will take him 
to Philadelphia, Hanover , N. H. , Detroit, Chicago, San Francisco, 
the Grand Canyon, Williamsburg and Charlottesville, Va. , as 
well as New York City. 

President Heuss will return to Germany by ship from New 
York City on June 23rd. 

A detailed itinerary of the Federal President' s tour will be 
issued within the next few days. 



Theodor Heuss - Biographical Data. (Brief Version) 

Theodor Heuss - Biographical Data. (Extended version with listing of 

his books and a bibliography) 

Theodor Heuss - President of the Federal Republic of Germany. 

The Constitutional Position of the President of the Federal Republic 

of Germany. 

Germany at a Glance (Statistical summary) with Chronology of Events 

pertaining to postwar Germany, 

Map of Germany. 

Ernst Ludwig Heuss - son of the President -( Biography) 

Heinrich von Brentano, Foreign Minister. (Biography and Photo) 

Felix von Eckardt, State Secretary, Federal Press Chief. (Biography) 

Hans Bott, Personal Aide of the President. (Biography) 

(Enclosed in the attached kit are two formal portraits 
of President Heuss, one drawing of the President by 
Hans Kalimann of Munich, and one photograph of the 

residence of the Federal President.) 

# # # 





President of the Federal Republic of Germany 

Biographical Data 
Born in Brackenheim, State of Wuerttemberg, Germany, January 31, 1884. Son 
of Ludwig and Elisabeth (Guembel) Heuss. 

Student at universities of Berlin and Munich. Doctor's degree in political science, 


Married EUy Knapp, April 11, 1908, who died on July 19, 1952. One son, Ernst 


Editor of literary and political section of Friedrich Naumann' s weekly Journal 
"Die Hilfe" Berlin; editor of Neckar Zeitung," Heilbronn, 1912-18, and bi-monthly 
Journal "Maerz," 1913-18; leader German Work Federation and editor of the weekly 
Journal "German Politics," 1918-20; lecturer in history, governmental and party 
affairs at the German Academy of Political Science, 1920-33. Publisher of periodical 


Hilfe," 1933-36; free lance writer since 1936; licensed as publisher of "Rhein-Neckar 

Zeitung," Heidelberg, 1945. Professor of political science and modern history at 
the Institute of Technology, Stuttgart, 1947. 

Member of Reichstag (German Democratic Party), 1924-28, 30-33; chairman 
Free Democratic Party in Parliamentary Council, Bonn, 1948; also first chairman 
Free Democratic Party Western Germany and Berlin. 

Member parliament, Wuerttemberg-Baden, since 1946; Minister of Education, 

Elected member German Bundestag, August 1949; elected President Federal 
Republic of Germany, September, 1949, re-elected for second term on July 17, 1954 
at Berlin. 

Author numerous books. 

Until 1933 traveled extensively in France, Italy, Sweden, Denmark, Netherlands, 
Greece and Yugoslavia; as Federal President State Visits in Greece (1956)t Turkey 

(1957) and Italy (1957). 

# # # 



President of the Federal Republic of Germany 

Biographical Data 

Born at Brackenheim, State of Wuerttemberg, on January 31, 1884. Protestant. Son 
of Ludwig Heuss, a highway engineer and later inspector of subterranean construction at 
Heilbronn. On bis mother's side, President Heuss is descended from a family of 
foresters in the Rhenish Palatinate. 

He attended school in Heilbronn, studied economic s and art history at Munich 
University in 1902, then Berlin University in 1903-04 and completed his studies in Munich 
in 1905, with a doctor's degree in political science under Lujo Brentano. In June, 1905, 
while still a Student, became editor of Friedrich Naumann' s weekly "Die Hilfe" in 
Berlin, a position he held until 1912. 

In 1908, married Elly Knapp, daughter of Georg Friedrich Knapp, professor of 
agricultural history and monetary theory at Strasbourg University. A son, Ernst Ludwig 
Heuss, was born on August 5, 1910. Frau Elly Heuss-Knapp died on July 19, 1952 in Bonn. 

In 1912, Chief editor of the newspaper "Neckar Zeitung" at Heilbronn, and in 1913, of 
the fortnightly "Maerz. " In 1918, returned to Berlin to join the executive committee of 
the "Deutscher Werkbund" and the editorial board of the weekly paper "Deutsche Politik." 

From 1920 to 1933, lecturer on modern history, constitutional problems and political 
parties at the German Academy of Political Science (Deutsche Hochschule fuer Politik). 
In 1933, dismissed from the teaching profession by the National Socialists. 

From 1919 to 1933, borough councilman in Berlin Schoeneberg; from 1928 to 1931, also 

city councilman of Berlin. 

From 1933 to 1936, edited the magazine "Die Hilfe. " From 1936, free-lance writer; 
from 1940, contributor to the "Frankfurter Zeitung. " 

From 1924 to 1928 and from 1930 to 1933, member of the German Parliament 
(Reichstag) as member of the German Democratic Party. 

Over a number of years, one of the leaders of the German Authors' Protective 
Association. From 1925 to 1933, played a leading part in the League of Germans Abroad. 
Until 1933, annual Visits abroad, to France, Britain, Italy, Sweden, Denmark, Belgium, 

the Netherlands, Greece and Yugoslavia. 

. 2 - 

In September, 1945, licensee and editorial writer for the newspaper "Rhein-Neckar - 

Zeitung" at Heidelberg. 

From September 1945 to December 1946, when he resigned, Minister of Cultural 
Affairs of Wuerttemberg-Baden; from Jiine 1946 to September 1949, member of the Diet 
of Wuerttemberg-Baden. 

From 1947, Professor of political science and modern history at the Stuttgart 

Institute of Technology. 

Apart from his work as a University Professor, he engaged in widespread lecturing 
activities until 1948, especially for scholarly and cultural associations. 

In 1948, elected First Chairman of the Free Democratic Party in Western Germany 

and Berlin. 

In 1948, member of the Parliamentary Council at Bonn and simultaneously Chairman 
of the Free Democratic Party group in the Parliamentary Council. 

On August 14, 1949, elected to the German Lower House (Bundestag). 

On September 12, 1949, elected President of the Federal Republic of Germany by the 
First Federal Assembly; re-elected for a second terra on July 17, 1954, at Berlin by the 

Second Federal Assembly. 

President Theodor Heuss holds an honorary Ph. D degree of Berlin University (1949), 
an honorary D.D. of Tuebingen University (1951), an honorary Ph.D. of the University 
of Maryland (1951), and an honorary doctorate of the Stuttgart Institute of Technology 
(1954), Honorary Doctor of Laws degree from the University of Ankara (1957), Honorary 
Doctor of Philosophy degree from the University of Freiburg/Breisgau (1957). 

Honorary freeman of the towns of Brackenheim (1949), Berlin (1949), Heilbronn (1953), 
Stuttgart, Bonn, Kiel (1954), Darmstadt (1955), Olympia (1956), Ankara (1957). 

Member of the German Academy for Language and Literatur e, Darmstadt; member 
of the Visual Arts Division of the Bavarian Academy of Fine Arts (1933). 

Holder of high Orders of the Federal Republic of Germany and other countries. 

. 3 . 

Author of numerous books including: 


Weinbau and Weingartner stand in Heilbronn am Neckar" 
(1905-Di88ertation, Neuauf. 1950) 

(Winegrowing and the Winegrower's Profession in Heilbronn 
on-the -Neckar, 1905 doctor's thesis; re-edited in 1950) 

"Schwaben und der Deutsche Geist" (1914) 
(Swabia and the German Spirit) 

"Kriegs Sozialismus" (1916) 
(War Socialism) 



Reich und Bundesstaaten" (1918) 

(The Reich and the Federal States) 

Das Haus der Freundschaft'.' (1919) 
(House of Friendship) 






Kapp -Lutt Witz" (1920) 

Die Neue Demokratie" (1920) 
(The New Democracy) 

Staat und Volk" (1926) 
(State and Nation) 

Politik" (1927) 

Hitlers Weg" (1932) 
(Hitler' s Way) 

"Fuhrer aus Deutscher Not" (1932) 

(Leading Germany out of Crisis) 

"Friedrich Naumann" (1937) 
(Friedrich Naumann) 

"Hans Poelzig" (1939) 
(Hans Poelzig) 

"Anton Dohrn in Neapel" (1940) 
(Anton Dohrn in Naples) 


Justus von Liebig" (1941) 
(Justus von Liebig) 

Robert Bosch" (1946) 
(Robert Bosch) 

"Lehrerschaft und Zeitgeist" (1946) 

(Educators and the Spirit of Our Times) 

"Deutsche Nationalidee im Wandel der Geschichte" (1946) 
(Historical Development of the German National Idea) 

. 4 - 

"Schattenbeschworung" (1946) 
(Historical Silhouette s) 


Der Reutlinger Friedrich List" (1946) 
(Friedrich List of Reutlingen) 

"H. O. Schaller" (1947) 
(H. O. Schaller) 

"1848 - Werk und Erbe" (1948) 

(1848 - Achievement and Heritage) 

"Deutsche Gestalten" (1948) 

(Leading Gernian Figures) 

"Schulze-Delitzsch" (1948) 
(Schulze -Delitzsch) 

"Verfassungsrecht xind Verfassungspolitik" (1950) 
(Constitutional Law and Policies) 

"Gottlieb Daimler als Wegbereiter der Verkehrsmotorisierung" (1950) 
(Gottlieb Daimler, Pioneer of Motorized Transport) 

"Bekenntnis zu Gustav Werner" (1950) 

(Acknowledgement to Gustav Werner) 

"Was ist Qualität" (1951) 
(What is Quality) 

"Kräfte und Grenzen einer Kulturpolitik" (1951) 
(Strength and Limits of a Cultural Policy) 

"Das Bismarck-Bild im Wandel" (Sonderdruck 1951) 

(Changing Perspectives on Bismarck) (Special Edition 1951) 

"Formkrafte einer politischen Stilbildung" (1952) 
(Formative Forces of a Political Style) 

"Johann Peter Hebel" (1952) 
(Johann Peter Hebel) 

"Sichtbare Geschichte" (1952) 
(Visible History) 

"Brüderlichkeit" (1953) 

"Vorspiele des Lebens" (1954) 
(Preludes to Life) 

"Dank und Bekenntnis" (20. Juli - 1954) 

(Faith and Gratitude) (July 20, 1954) 


Hugo von Hof mann sthal" (1954) 
(Hugo von Hofmannsthal) 

- 5 - 

"Zu Ästhetik der Karikatur" (1954) 

(On the aesthetics of Caricature) 


Schiller" (1955) 

"Reden an die Jugend" (1956) 
(Speeches to Youth) 

"Zur Kunst dieser Gegenwart" (1956) 
(On the Art of Our Times) 

Editor of the posthumous works by the scholar and publicist Hugo 
Preuss: collected essays entitled "Staat, Recht und Freiheit" (State, 

Law and Freedom) (1926). 

Editor of a volume of short stories "Sieben Schwaben" (Seven 

Swabians) (1912). 

Compilation: "Theodor Heuss - Würdigungen" (Theodor Heuss - 
Appreciations), Speeches, articles and letters from the years 1949 - 1955, 
edited by Hans Bott in 1955 

More detailed biographical and bibliographical literature: 

"Theodor Heuss" A biographical sketch by Hans-Heinrich Welchert; 

publishers: Athenäum- Verlag, Bonn, 1953. 

"Begegnungen mit Theodor Heuss" (Meet Theodor Heuss), 

edited by Hans Bott and Hermann Leins; publishers: 
Rainer Wunderlich Verlag Hermann Leins, Tubingen, 


Theodor Heuss" 

by Margret Boveri and Walter Prinzing. 
A bibliography of the writings, Speeches and lectures 
by Theodor Heuss and Elly Heuss -Knapp. Edited by 
the Wuerttemberg Library Society; publishers: 
Friedrich Vorwerk Verlag, Stuttgart, 1954. 



President of the Federal Repüblic of Germany 


America, the off spring of Europe, has finally come to shape the destiny of 

its Citizens' former homelands." This Statement made before the Carl Schurz 
Memorial Foundation in Bremen 1952 summed up President Theodor Heuss' 
feelings for America. At the same time Heuss outlined in his Statement the 
historical development of the United States which he himself has always foUowed 
with the greatest interest. 

As a historic figure, Carl Schurz has always been very strongly in the mind of 
Theodor Heuss. In 1929 Heuss delivered a commemorative speech on the occasion 
of the one-hundredth birthday of Schurz in the Paulskirche at Frankfurt. After being 
elected Federal President on September 12, 1949, Heuss addressed the people from 
the Steps of the Bonn town hall -- the very place where Carl Schurz as a young Student 
participated in a dennocratic meeting in 1848 -- the year of revolution. The Federal 
President reminded his listeners that Carl Schurz started his career on that very spot. 

Almost nine years have passed since that evening on the Bonn market Square. 
During this time the Federal President has become quite a familiär figure in Germany 
and abroad. He is generally considered an outstanding and dignified representative of 
the Federal Repüblic of Germany. A few weeks ago, on the occasion of his seventy- 
third birthday, the press paid tribute to him as a practical person who does not permit 
himself to be restricted or limited by protocol and Convention. The public sees in him 
not only the supreme guardian of law and justice standing above the disputes of 

political parties, but also calls him the "stern conscience of democracy. 


A German Journalist, who emigrated many years ago to the United States wrote 
after the election of Theodor Heuss as Federal President: "German dennocrats who 

left their homeland in the days of Nazi persecution experienced a feeling of extraordinary 

- 2 - 

satisfaction when they learned that Theodor Heuss had been elected President, because 
this man was for them the embodiment of everything noble and upright in the traditions 
of pre -Hitler Germany. " It was this quality of integrity and honesty which caused the 
Federal Assembly in times of political stress and struggle to elect Theodor Heuss 
Chief of State. 

It is already clear today that in Professor Heuss Germany has one of her outstanding 
Presidents. He lends his office substance, that is, dignified representation for the 
State and a confidence-inspiring closeness between the man at the top and the man on 
the Street for the people. 

The influenae of the President upon political developments should not be glossed 
over, an influenae which does not spring from his constitutional position but from his 
Personality. Heuss keeps up connections with all parliamentary groups in Bonn. From 
his residence in Bonn emanate political ideas which have influenae, even if they do not 
make headlines in the daily press. This influenae has become clearly visible in days 
of political crisis, when a word from the Presidency determined future developments. 

More important than all this, might be that Professor Heuss has filled his office 
with the spirit of genuine democracy. He was imbued with this spirit in his parents' 
home. He was born on January 31, 1884 at Brackenheim, a small city in South- 
western Germany, of a family whose democratic tradition led back to the revolution 
of 1848. His grandfather had taken an active part in that revolution A black - red - 
gold flag (symbolic of democratic forces in Germany), which he donated to the 
revolutionary forces, has been preserved to this day. Of his father Theodor Heuss 
says that he taught his sons that democracy and freedom are not only words, but 
values which r ender life meaningful. 

Today President Theodor Heuss -- politician, author and university lecturer -- 
ranks among the first in politics and in intellectual life in the old world. He has 
acquired an enduring reputation as author of important biographical and scholarly 
works. He is a member of the German Academy for Language and Literature and of 
the Bavarian Academy of Fine Arts. His relations with the leading men in intellectual 

life, in art and science are very close. 


. 3 - 

Politics is considered by Professor Heuss as something more than the struggle 
between political parties. Politics is for him a science which can be taught. He was 
among the founders of the Academy for Political Science, established in 1920 in Berlin, 
which became internationally renowned as a center fgr the study of political science. 
This is where Heuss developed a lasting interest in American politics and intellectual 
life, as the Berlin Academy worked closely with American foundations and institutions. 

Heuss Said once: "The Federal President is not only an Institution, but a human 
being like everybody eise." This largely explains the popularity he enjoys. He has 
a strong sense of human dignity, coupled with common sense and a good sense of 
humor. The Federal President always tends to soften ceremonial stiffness, to relax 
deadlocked situations and to cultivate human contacts. He once said that he considered 
it his first task to fill his office with "humanity. " The respect in which he is held as 
President became evident when he was reelected for his second term. He won the 
first election of September 1949 by a majority vote; he was re-elected in July 1954 with 
the Support of all political parties and without opposing candidates. 

A picture of Heuss would not be complete without the mention of the important role 
played by Elly Heuss-Knapp, his wife. Elly Heuss, the daughter of a Strasbourg 
university professor, died in 1952 at the age of 71. She had contributed in no small 
way to the prestige of the newly-created office of the presidency. As a young girl, 
she devoted herseif to social work. She remained in public life throughout the years. 
As Germany's First Lady, she accomplished a tremendous amount to overcome the 
post-war distress among the materially and spiritually impoverished. She organized 
an institution called "Muettergenesungswerk" which off er s recreation to needy mothers. 
She was called the "mother of mothers" in Germany. Her death put an end to a happy 
marriage which was consecrated in 1908 by none other than Albert Schweitzer, the 


jungle physician of Lambarene." "Live together to accomplish something" -- this 

was the assignment which Schweitzer gave the young couple for their common future. 

The Federal President has a son, Ernst Ludwig Heuss, the director of a well- 
known firm at Loerrach/Baden, and a granddaughter. The President spends his holi- 
days with his son's family. However, his office does not afford him many leisure hours; 

- 4 - 

Like Eisenhower and Churchill, he cultivates the hobby of painting. but can practice it 
only over the holidays. Under the bürden of his office Heuss also finds it difficult to 
write as much as he would like. though he eagerly spende his free evening hours 
writing and studying. He enjoys the study of art history and of historical monuments. 

When he learns on his travels of the proximty of old cathedrals. art collections or 
other creations of the human spirit preserved from former centuries. he does not fail 
to search them out. He is a passionate cigar smoker; one seldom sees him without a 
lit cigar in his band. He is not opposed to a good glass of wine. 

In a Speech before American Fulbright exchangees. President Heuss proclaimed it 
as men's task to win friends. "Man to man. confidence to confidence." he declared. 
and this motto is his own guiding principle. too. The knowledge of man's dignity led him 
to Protest "against brüte force and injustice" on the very site of the former concentration 
camp of Gergen-Belsen and it enabled him to call for reconciliation after the collapse of 
the despotism from which he too. had suffered. If the German people have overcome 
the material and spiritual chaos forced upon them by dictatorship and war. and if they 
have developed the democratic forces which make them a partner of the free nations. 
Federal President Theodor Heuss must be given large credit for it. 

if V 



The Constitutional Position of the Federal President 

The Federal President is Chief of State of the Federal Republic of Germany. 
He is elected for a five-year term by the "Federal Assembly" which is made up 
of the deputies of the German Bundestag (Parliament) and an equal number of 
delegates from the Land parliaments and convenes for this purpose only. Re- 
election is possible only once under the provisions of the Basic Law (Constitution) 

of the Federal Republic. 

The President represents the Federation in its international relations, 


ludes treaties with foreign states in the name of the Federal Republic and 

receives and accredits diplomatic envoys. 

All laws which have come into being through normal legal procedure are 


igned and proclaimed by the Federal President; the laws have to be counter- 

signed by the Federal Chancellor and the competent Federal Minister. 

On the proposal of the Federal President, the Federal Chancellor is elected 
by the Bundestag. The candidate receiving a majority of Bundestag votes is 
elected and must be appointed Federal Chancellor by the Federal President. 

The Federal Ministers are appointed and dismissed by the Federal President 
at the instance of the Federal Chancellor. 

The Federal President appoints and dismisses Federal judges, Federal 
civil servants as well as officers and non-commissioned officers of the German 
armed forces. He exercises the power of pardon and reprieve. 

The above, which corresponds almost verbally to the Basic Law, outlines 
the legal position of the Federal President. 

Thus, it is clear that the President as Chief of State normally does not 
participate in day-to-day politics. He is not, as in the United States, Chief of 
State and Head of the Government at the same time. 

ifi if if if if 

- 2 - 

In the Performance of his office over the last eight years President Heuss 
has two major achievennents to his credit: 

1) He symbolizes German unity - the indivisibility of Germany despite her 
partition. This is true not only on the more imnrediate political level 
but especially on the higher level of national consciousness and culture. 

2) President Heuss has contributed essentially to the new democratic way of 
life in the rather young Federal Republic, resoLutely resuming the 
historical traditions of the Revolution of 1848 and of the Weimar Republic 
In this sense he has given the office of the PresiderXcy genuine political 

jk jk jk sk )k 

The meaning of his office has been described by Pre^idfent Heuss in his 
re-election speech on July 17, 1954: 


The Position of the Federal President has been given a^/curious legal 

structure by the Basic Law: the Presidency is removed from daily government 
affairs, from party politics, from the controversies of pressure groups in 
parliamentary deliberations, from the everchanging tides of public opinion, 
cordant and discordant. The term "neutral" or "non-partisan" has been used 
to define this position. I don't mind these terms, provided they do not mean 

'lacking opinion" 

A man who has, after all, a rather vivid past has not become, through being 
elected President five years ago, sinnply a governmental institution for 
signatures, for the bestowal of decorations, for receptions and for what one 
calls "representation"; he remains the man he was, because he wants to remain 
true to himself . So he is not "neutral" when he proffers his scholarly judgment 
on economic or social problems, or his opinions on matters concerning academic 
life as well as on artistic and literary assessments. " 



ERNST LUDWIG HEUSS (President »s Son) 

Born on May 8, 1910 in Berlin-Schoeneberg. Spent bis childhood partly 
in Heilbronn. After passing bis final examination (Abitur), studied law and 
jurisprudence at the universities of Berlin, Heidelberg and Bonn. In 1936 
took bis first examination in law in Cologne and in 1937 took bis doctorate 
in law at tbe University of Heidelberg. Served as a junior attorney and tben 
was forced out of legal profession because he was not willing to join the 
National Socialist Party. 

In 1937-38, business training with a coal wholesaler and afterwards 
unsalaried clerk in the Gaba-Wybert pharmaceutical firm in Loerrach, in 
Basle (Switzerland) and in Hilversum (Holland). He is today thp chairman of 
the board of directors of the holding Company of this firm. From 1939 until 
the beginning of the war, he was an employee of the German Chamber of 
Connmerce in London. 

From October, 1939, until the end of the war, he was active in the Economic 
Administration (shoe allocation). During this time, he had contacts with 
resisteince circles and lent assistance to political prisoners. 

Immediately after the end of the war, he was active in the newly-fornned 
city administration of Berlin. In May, 1946, moved to Loerrach and took over 
the direction of the Wybert Firm, a Swiss pharmaceutical concern. From 1953, 
Dr. Heuss was Secretary, and from 1956, chairman of the board of directors 
of a holding Company which includes four other firms. 

In 1945, married Hanne Elsas. Daughter, Barbara Toni, born in 1947. 

From 1953 to 1956, he served as city councilman in Loerrach, from 1950 
as chairman of the local chapter of the German Red Gross, and from 1953 in 
the Loerrach county chapter of the Red Gross. Member of the board of directors 
of the German-Swiss Chamber of Commerce. 

# # # 








Germany's 1937 boundaries contained an area of 181,000 

Square miles with a population of some 69 million. After World 

War II, Germany was divided into three major parts: 

(1) West Germany, territory of the "Federal Republic of Germany'' 
(95,717 Square miles, 52 million inhabitants); 

(2) Central Germany , occupied by the Soviet Union which 
established a satellite State called "German Democratic 
Republic" (41,645 Square miles, 16.7 million inhabitants); 

(3) The Eastern Territories , now under Soviet and Polish 
administration (44,028 Square miles, population not exactly 
known since almost all Germans have been expelled) . 

Berlin, the former German capital, is split into two parts: 
West Berlin, occupied by the Western Powers (186 Square miles, 
2.2 million inhabitants), and Soviet -occupied East Berlin (155 
Square miles, 1.2 million inhabitants). 

The Federal Republic is the largest part of pre-war Germany 
in area and in population. Its Citizens are the only Germans 
presently living in a democratic State and under a government 
based on the consent and will of the people. The Western World 
and most of the uncommitted nations consider the Federal 
Government as the only one entitled to speak on behalf of the 
German people, Bonn on the Rhine (150,000 inhabitants) is the 
temporary capital of the Federal Republic. 

By the end of 1956, West Germany took in some 8.8 million 
expellees from the Eastern territories; in addition, it absorbed 
almost 3 million refugees from communist-ruled Central 
Germany. Thus almost every fourth inhabitant of the Federal 
Republic is either an expellee or a refugee. 

The Basic Law of May 23, 1949, is the Constitution of the 
Federal Republic. It guarantees basic human rights and 
democratic freedom as well as the federative nature of the 
new German republic which is made up of ten "Federal States". 
The Basic Law expressly provides that the Federal Government 
may delegate part of its sovereignty to supra-national authorities. 

Chief of State of the Federal Republic is the Federal President 
who is elected for a period of five years. Dr. Theodor Heuss is 
the current Federal President; he was re-elected for a second 
term in July 1954. He represents the Federal Republic, signs 
laws and treaties, accredits the diplomatic corps and appoints 
the Federal Chancellor who is elected by parliament. The 
President exercises the right of pardon and reprieve. 

- 2 - 







The "Bundestag" (Lower House) is elected by the people 
for a period of four years. (The last Bundestag elections 
took place in September, 1957.) The Bundestag elects the 
Federal Chancellor and passes legislation. It consists of 
497 voting members from the Federal Republic and 22 non- 
voting observers from West Berlin. 

The "Bundesrat" (Upper House) is the parliamentary 
representation of the Federal States. It is made up of 41 
members (nominated by their respective State Govern- 
ment s) and 4 non- voting nnembers of West Berlin. It 
ensures the participation of the Federal States in the 
legislative process. The President of the Bundesrat 
assumes office for one year and acts as deputy of the 
Federal President. The present Bundesrat President is 
Willy Brandt of Berlin. 

The Federal Government consists of the Federal 
Chancellor as elected by the Bundestag, and of the Federal 
Ministers. The Federal Chancellor determines general 
government policy and is responsible for its execution. 
He can be dismissed by the Bundestag, provided that a 
parliamentary majority for a successor is secured. Dr. 
Konrad Adenauer has been Federal Chancellor since 1949. 


The most important political parties in the Federal 
Republic are: 

CDU/CSU - ("Christian Democratic Union" and its 

Bavarian affiliate "Christian Social Union") 



- (Social Democratic Party of Germany) 

- (Free Democratic Party) 


- (German Party) 


CDU/CSU (277 Bundestag deputies) and DP (18 deputies) 
form the present government coalition, while SPD (181 
deputies) and FDP (43 deputies) represent the Opposition. 
The Communist Party and the neo-Nazi "Socialist Reich 
Party" have been declared unconstitutional and are 
consequently banned. 

The foreign policy of the Federal Republic under 
Chancellor Adenauer is characterized by its partner ship 
with the Western Powers, its advocacy of a United Europe 
and its striving for the reunification of Germany in peace 
and freedom. The political bonds between the Federal 
Republic and the West have been contractually established 
by the admission of the Federal Republic into NATO and 
the "West European Union" on May 5, 1955. Simultaneously, 
the Federal Republic became a sovereign State. (Up to 
1949 1 AUied Military Governments had exercised supreme 
authority in Western Germany; from 1949 to 1955, the 
Federal Republic was controlled, under the "Occupation 
Statute", by "Allied High Commissioners"). 

. 3 - 




As an equal partner of the Western Community of nations 
the Federal Republic has declared its willingness to make 
a defense contribution. New German Armed Forces are being 
set up within the framework of NATO; the build-up of the 
"Bundeswehr" is in progress. Today the Bundeswehr consists 
of 130,000 soldiers. In 1957 the first three divisions were 
placed under the command of the NATO; in 1958 further four 
divisions and some units of the Air Force and the Navy will 
join the NATO Forces. The Bundestag has enacted general 
conscription; the term of military Service is 12 months. 


In every sphere of cultural endeavor the Federal Republic 
is eager to resume the best German traditions which were 
deliberately interrupted by the Nazis. While oppression of 
Spiritual and artistic freedom continues in communist-ruled 
Central Germany, cultural life in the Federal Republic is 
again free and open to international exchange. German 
ennigres of world fame - Thonnas Mann, Carl Zuckmayer, 
Paul Hindemith, Walter Gropius and nnany others - have 
acknowledged this basic change by establishing new contacts 
with their homeland. 


Throughout West Germany there are no less than 175 
repertory theaters, offering daily operatic and dramatic 
Performances. Numerous art festivals - such as the 
Bayreuth Wagner Festival - attract foreign visitors as well 
as Ger man s. Regulär symphony concerts of out Standing 
quality can be heard in most cities; art galleries and museiuns 
offer again a broad variety of masterworks by artists of all 


A total of 30,000 elementary schools, 1, 587 high schools, 
4,700 adult education centers, 19 universities, 8 technical 
universities and 46 musical, theological and other institutions 
of higher education provide extensive educational facilities 
in the Federal Republic and West Berlin. 


The economy of the Federal Republic is heavily indus- 
trialized. Despite war destruction and extensive dismantling 
in the first post-war years, industrial production has risen 
sharply; Marshall Plan aid gave the essential impetus to 
this development. 

Index of 

(1936 : 100) 













Coal production 
(in million metric 







Crude Steel 
production (in 
million metric tons) 







Passenger car 







- 4 - 


The economic policy of the Federal Government 
is based upon the principle of "Free Market Economy" 
as opposed to any kind of State -controUed, "planned" 
or socialist economy. This policy is logically comple- 
mented by a strong advocacy of free world trade. The 
Federal Republic has almost completely liberalized its 
imports and believes in free convertibility of currencies. 
It has joined five other West European nations in the 
supra -national "European Community for Coal and Steel" 
and in the "Common European Market" and in "Euratom", 
which entered into force on January Ist, 1958. 


As a highly industrialized coiintry - which must 
import foodstuff s as well as raw materials - the Federal 
Republic is vitally interested in a flourishing foreign 








(in billion U.S. 









(in billion U.S. 








Balance of Trade 
(in billion U.S. 








Favored by this development, the German currency - 
the "Deutsche Mark" or D-Mark, introduced on June 21, 
1948 - has become an internationally covered "hard" 
currency. The exchange rate is fixed at DM 4. 20 «1 U.S. 
Dollar or U.S. Dollar 0.238 = 1.00 DM. 

pertaining to post-war Germany 


May 8: 

July 17 - 

- August 2; 

Unconditional surrender of Gerxnan Armed Forces 

Potsdam Conference of the Chiefs of State of the U. S. , 
Great Britain and the Soviet Union 

April 25 - 
•r May 19: 

September 5: 


Four Power Conference in Paris; no agreement on 

U.S. and Great Britain economically nnerge their occupa 
tion zones in West Germany 


March 10 - 
- April 24; 

June 5: 

June 25: 

Four Power Conference in Moscow; no agreement on 

Promulgation of the Marshall Plan 

Establishment of the Bizonal Economic Council in 

November 25 - Four Power Conference in London: no agreement on 

- December 15: Germany 


February 23 
- June 2: 

April 1: 
June 20: 
June 30: 
September 1: 

Six Power Conference on Germany in London; U.S. , Great 
Britain, France and Benelux countries agree to form a 
West Gernnan State after the failures of previous Four 
Power Conferences with the Soviet Union 

Soviets Start blockade of Berlin 

Currency reform in West Germany 

Organization of airlift to Berlin 

The "Parliamentary Council" of West German leaders 
meets to draft a Constitution 


. 2 - 


April 4: 

NATO signed 

May 12; 

Soviet Union lifts blockade of Berlin 

May 23: 

"Basic Law" temporary Constitution for West Germany, 
signed; "Federal Republic of Germany" comes into being 

May 23 - 

- June 20: 

Four Power Conference in Paris; no agreement on 

August 14: 
September 12: 

September 15: 

First Bundestag elections 

Professor Theodor Heuss elected first Federal President 

Dr. Konrad Adenauer elected first Federal Chancellor 

June 25: 
August 7: 
September 5: 

November 22: 

May 26: 

May 27: 

July 26: 


Korean war Starts 

Germany joins the Council of Europe 

The United States High Commissioner , Mr. John J. McCloy, 
States at a press Conference in Washington that he has 
recommended the participation of Germany in the defense of 


Foreign minister s of the Western Powers meet Dr. Adenauer 
in Paris, agree that Federal Republic is to beconne equal 
partner of the free nations 


The Treaty regulating "relations between the Federal Republic 
and the three Powers" (Bonn Convention) is signed in Bonn 

Treaty for a "European Defense Community" (EDC) with 
German participation signed in Paris 

"European Comnnunity for Coal and'Steel" (with Gernnan 
participation) enters into force 


April 6 - 

- April 18: 

June 17: 

September 6: 

October 9: 

First Visit of Chancellor Adenauer to the U.S. and Canada 

Uprisings in East Berlin and Central Germany against 
Soviet -installed communist regime 

Second Bundestag elections 

Dr. Adenauer re-elected Federal Chancellor 

- 3 - 

January 25 - 

- February 18: 

July 17: 

August 30: 

October 23: 

May 5: 

June 6: 

July 15: 

July 18 - 

- July 23: 

September 9 - 

- September 13: 


Four Power Conference on Germany in Berlin; no 

Professor Heuss re-elected as Federal President 
French parliament rejects EDC 

Agreement on the admission of the Federal Republic into 
NATO and the West European Union (WEU) reached in 


Federal Republic becomes sovereign; admission into 
NATO and WEU comes into force 

Federal Ministry of Defense established 

Bundestag passes "Volunteers Law" as legal basis for 
drafting the first 6,000 volunteer soldiers of the new 
Armed Forces 

Four Power "Sumnnit" Conference in Geneva 

Moscow Visit of Chane ellor Adenauer; agreement on the 
return of Ger man prisoners of war and on the assumption 
of diplomatic relations 

October 27 - Four Power Conference in Geneva; no agreement on 

- November 16: Germany 

July 7: 


Bundestag passes law introducing general conscription in 
the Federal Republic 


January 1: 
March 26: 

May 23 - May 30: 
July 1: 

July 29: 

Saar returns politically to the Federal Republic 

Treaties concerning "European Common Market" and 
"Euratom" signed in Bonn 

Chancellor Adenauer Visits the U.S.A. 

The first three divisions of the Bundeswehr placed under 
NATO - command 

Berlin declaration of the U.S.A. , Great Britain, France 
and the Federal Republic for reunification of Germany in 
peace and freedom 

- 4 - 


September 15: 

October 22: 

Elections for the 3rd Bundestag 

Adenauer re-elected Föderal Chancellor 

December 16 - 
- December 19: 

NATO - "Sumniit" Conference in Paris 


January 1: 

1 1 

Treaties concerning "European Common Market" and 
Euratom" enter into force