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Perhaps the greatest single failing of movements for social reconstruction–I refer particularly to the Left, to radical ecology groups, and to organizations that profess to speak for the oppressed–is their lack of a politics that will carry people beyond the limits established by the status quo.
Politics today means duels between top-down bureaucratic parties for electoral office, that offer vacuous programs for “social justice” to attract a nondescript “electorate.” Once in office, their programs usually turn into a bouquet of “compromises.” In this respect, many Green parties in Europe have been only marginally different from conventional parliamentary parties. Nor have socialist parties, with all their various labels, exhibited any basic differences from their capitalist counterparts. To be sure, the indifference of the Euro-American public–its “apoliticism”–is understandably depressing. Given their low expectations, when people do vote, they normally turn to established parties if only because, as centers of power, they can produce results of sorts in practical matters. If one bothers to vote, most people reason, why waste a vote on a new marginal organization that has all the characteristics of the major ones and that will eventually become corrupted if it succeeds? Witness the German Greens, whose internal and public life increasingly approximates that of other parties in the new Reich.
That this “political process” has lingered on with almost no basic alteration for decades now is due in great part to the inertia of the process itself. Time wears expectations thin, and hopes are often reduced to habits as one disappointment is followed by another. Talk of a “new politics,” of upsetting tradition, which is as old as politics itself, is becoming unconvincing. For decades, at least, the changes that have occurred in radical politics are largely changes in rhetoric rather than structure. The German Greens are only the most recent of a succession of “nonparty parties” (to use their original way of describing their organization) that have turned from an attempt to practice grassroots politics–ironically, in the Bundestag, of all places!–into a typical parliamentary party. The Social Democratic Party in Germany, the Labor Party in Britain, the New Democratic Party in Canada, the Socialist Party in France, and others, despite their original emancipatory visions, barely qualify today as even liberal parties in which a Franklin D. Roosevelt or a Harry Truman would have found a comfortable home. Whatever social ideals these parties may have had generations ago has been eclipsed by the pragmatics of gaining, holding, and extending their power in their respective parliamentary and ministerial bodies.
It is precisely such parliamentary and ministerial objectives that we call “politics” today. To the modern political imagination, “politics” is precisely a body of techniques for holding power in representative bodies–notably the legislative and executive arenas–not a moral calling based on rationality, community, and freedom.
A Civic Ethics
Libertarian municipalism represents a serious, indeed a historically fundamental project, to render politics ethical in character and grassroots in organization. It is structurally and morally different from other grassroots efforts, not merely rhetorically different. It seeks to reclaim the public sphere for the exercise of authentic citizenship while breaking away from the bleak cycle of parliamentarism and its mystification of the “party” mechanism as a means for public representation. In these respects, libertarian municipalism is not merely a “political strategy.” It is an effort to work from latent or incipient democratic possibilities toward a radically new configuration of society itself–a communitarian society oriented toward meeting human needs, responding to ecological imperatives, and developing a new ethics based on sharing and cooperation. That it involves a consistently independent form of politics is a truism. More important, it involves a redefinition of politics, a return to the word’s original Greek meaning as the management of the community or polis by means of direct face-to-face assemblies of the people in the formulation of public policy and based on an ethics of complementarity and solidarity.
In this respect, libertarian municipalism is not one of many pluralistic techniques that is intended to achieve a vague and undefined social goal. Democratic to its core and nonhierarchical in its structure, it is a kind of human destiny, not merely one of an assortment of political tools or strategies that can be adopted and discarded with the aim of achieving power. Libertarian municipalism, in effect, seeks to define the institutional contours of a new society even as it advances the practical message of a radically new politics for our day.
Means and Ends
Here, means and ends meet in a rational unity. The word politics now expresses direct popular control of society by its citizens through achieving and sustaining a true democracy in municipal assemblies–this, as distinguished from republican systems of representation that preempt the right of the citizen to formulate community and regional policies. Such politics is radically distinct from statecraft and the state–a professional body composed of bureaucrats, police, military, legislators, and the like that exists as a coercive apparatus, clearly distinct from and above the people. The libertarian municipalist approach distinguishes statecraft–which we usually characterize as “politics” today–and politics as it once existed in precapitalist democratic communities.
Moreover, libertarian municipalism also involves a clear delineation of the social realm–as well as the political realm–in the strict meaning of the term social: notably, the arena in which we live our private lives and engage in production. As such, the social realm is to be distinguished from both the political and the statist realms. Enormous mischief has been caused by the interchangeable use of these terms–social, political, and the state. Indeed, the tendency has been to identify them with one another in our thinking and in the reality of everyday life. But the state is a completely alien formation, a thorn in the side of human development, an exogenous entity that has incessantly encroached on the social and political realms. Often, in fact, the state has been an end in itself, as witness the rise of Asian empires, ancient imperial Rome, and the totalitarian state of modern times. More than this, it has steadily invaded the political domain, which, for all its past shortcomings, had empowered communities, social groupings, and individuals.
Such invasions have not gone unchallenged. Indeed, the conflict between the state on the one hand and the political and social realms on the other has been an ongoing subterranean civil war for centuries. It has often broken out into the open–in modern times in the conflict of the Castilian cities (comuneros) against the Spanish monarchy in the 1520s, in the struggle of the Parisian sections against the centralist Jacobin Convention of 1793, and in endless other clashes both before and after these encounters.
Today, with the increasing centralization and concentration of power in the nation-state, a “new politics”–one that is genuinely new–must be structured institutionally around the restoration of power by municipalities. This is not only necessary but possible even in such gigantic urban areas as New York City, Montreal, London, and Paris. Such urban agglomerations are not, strictly speaking, cities or municipalities in the traditional sense of those terms, despite being designated as such by sociologists. It is only if we think that they are cities that we become mystified by problems of size and logistics. Even before we confront the ecological imperative of physical decentralization (a necessity anticipated by Frederick Engels and Peter Kropotkin alike), we need feel no problems about decentralizing them institutionally. When Francois Mitterand tried to decentralize Paris with local city halls a few years ago, his reasons were strictly tactical (he wanted to weaken the authority of the capital’s right-wing mayor). Nonetheless, he failed not because restructuring the large metropolis was impossible but because the majority of the affluent Parisians supported the mayor.
Clearly, institutional changes do not occur in a social vacuum. Nor do they guarantee that a decentralized municipality, even if it is structurally democratic, will necessarily be humane, rational, and ecological in dealing with public affairs. Libertarian municipalism is premised on the struggle to achieve a rational and ecological society, a struggle that depends on education and organization. From the beginning, it presupposes a genuinely democratic desire by people to arrest the growing powers of the nation-state and reclaim them for their community and their region. Unless there is a movement–hopefully an effective Left Green movement–to foster these aims, decentralization can lead to local parochialism as easily as it can lead to ecological humanist communities.
But when have basic social changes ever been without risk? The case that Marx’s commitment to a centralized state and planned economy would inevitably yield bureaucratic totalitarianism could have been better made than the case that decentralized libertarian municipalities will inevitably be authoritarian and have exclusionary and parochial traits. Economic interdependence is a fact of life today, and capitalism itself has made parochial autarchies a chimera. While municipalities and regions can seek to attain a considerable measure of self-sufficiency, we have long left the era when self-sufficient communities that can indulge their prejudices are possible.
Equally important is the need for confederation–the interlining of communities with one another through recallable deputies mandated by municipal citizens’ assemblies and whose sole functions are coordinative and administrative. Confederation has a long history of its own that dates back to antiquity and that surfaced as a major alternative to the nation-state. From the American Revolution through the French Revolution and the Spanish Revolution of 1936, confederalism constituted a major challenge to state centralism. Nor has it disappeared in our own time, when the breakup of existing twentieth-century empires raises the issue of enforced state centralism or the relatively autonomous nation. Libertarian municipalism adds a radically democratic dimension to the contemporary discussions of confederation (as, for example, in Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia) by calling for confederations not of nation-states but of municipalities and of the neighborhoods of giant megalopolitan areas as well as towns and villages.
In the case of libertarian municipalism, parochialism can thus be checked not only by the compelling realities of economic interdependence but by the commitment of municipal minorities to defer to the majority wishes of participating communities. Do these interdependencies and majority decisions guarantee us that a majority decision will be a correct one? Certainly not–but our chances for a rational and ecological society are much better in this approach than in those that ride on centralized entities and bureaucratic apparatuses. I cannot help but marvel that no municipal network has been emergent among the German Greens, who have hundreds of representatives in city councils around Germany but who carry on a local politics that is completely conventional and self-enclosed within particular towns and cities.
Many arguments against libertarian municipalism–even with its strong confederal emphasis–derive from a failure understand its distinction between policy-making and administration. This distinction is fundamental to libertarian municipalism and must always be kept in mind. Policy is made by a community or neighborhood assembly of free citizens; administration is performed by confederal councils composed of mandated, recallable deputies of wards, towns, and villages. If particular communities or neighborhoods–or a minority grouping of them–choose to go their own way to a point where human rights are violated or where ecological mayhem is permitted, the majority in a local or regional confederation has every right to prevent such malfeasances through its confederal council. This is not a denial of democracy but the assertion of a shared agreement by all to recognize civil rights and maintain the ecological integrity of a region. These rights and needs are not asserted so much by a confederal council as by the majority of the popular assemblies conceived as one large community that expresses its wishes through its confederal deputies. Thus policy-making still remains local, but its administration is vested in the confederal network as a whole. The confederation in effect is a Community of communities based on distinct human rights and ecological imperatives.
If libertarian municipalism is not to be totally warped of its form and divested of its meaning, it is a desideratum that must be fought for. It speaks to a time–hopefully, one that will yet come–when people feel disempowered and actively seek empowerment. Existing in growing tension with the nation-state, it is a process as well as a destiny, a struggle to be fulfilled, not a bequest granted by the summits of the state. It is a dual power that contests the legitimacy of the existing state power. Such a movement can be expected to begin slowly, perhaps sporadically, in communities here and there that initially may demand only the moral authority to alter the structuring of society before enough interlinked confederations exist to demand the outright institutional power to replace the state. The growing tension created by the emergence of municipal confederations represents a confrontation between the state and the political realms. This confrontation can be resolved only after libertarian municipalism forms the new politics of a popular movement and ultimately captures the imagination of millions.
Certain points, however, should be obvious. The people who initially enter into the duel between confederalism and statism will not be the same human beings as those who eventually achieve libertarian municipalism. The movement that tries to educate them and the struggles that give libertarian municipalist principles reality will turn them into active citizens, rather than passive “constituents.” No one who participates in a struggle for social restructuring emerges from that struggle with the prejudices, habits, and sensibilities with which he or she entered it. Hopefully, then, such prejudices–like parochialism–will increasingly be replaced by a generous sense of cooperation and a caring sense of interdependence.
Municipalizing the Economy
It remains to emphasize that libertarian municipalism is not merely an evocation of all traditional antistatist notions of politics. Just as it redefines politics to include face-to-face municipal democracies graduated to confederal levels, so it includes a municipalist and confederal approach to economics. Minimally, a libertarian municipalist economics calls for the municipalization of the economy, not its centralization into state-owned “nationalized” enterprises on the one hand or its reduction to “worker-controlled” forms of collectivistic capitalism on the other. Trade-union control of “worker-controlled” enterprises (that is, syndicalism) has had its day. This should be evident to anyone who examines the bureaucracies that even revolutionary trade unions spawned during the Spanish Civil War of 1936. Today, corporate capitalism too is increasingly eager to bring the worker into complicity with his or her own exploitation by means of “workplace democracy.” Nor was the revolution in Spain or in other countries spared the existence of competition among worker-controlled enterprises for raw materials, markets, and profits. Even more recently, many Israeli kibbutzim have been failures as examples of nonexploitative, need-oriented enterprises, despite the high ideals with which they were initially founded.
Libertarian municipalism proposes a radically different form of economy–one that is neither nationalized nor collectivized according to syndicalist precepts. It proposes that land and enterprises be placed increasingly in the custody of the community–more precisely, the custody of citizens in free assemblies and their deputies in confederal councils. How work should be planned, what technologies should be used, how goods should be distributed are questions that can only be resolved in practice. The maxim “from each according to his or her ability, to each according to his or her needs” would seem a bedrock guide for an economically rational society, provided to be sure that goods are of the highest durability and quality, that needs are guided by rational and ecological standards, and that the ancient notions of limit and balance replace the bourgeois marketplace imperative of “grow or die.”
In such a municipal economy–confederal, interdependent, and rational by ecological, not simply technological, standards–we would expect that the special interests that divide people today into workers, professionals, managers, and the like would be melded into a general interest in which people see themselves as citizens guided strictly by the needs of their community and region rather than by personal proclivities and vocational concerns. Here, citizenship would come into its own, and rational as well as ecological interpretations of the public good would supplant class and hierarchical interests.
This is the moral basis of a moral economy for moral communities. But of overarching importance is the general social interest that potentially underpins all moral communities, an interest that must ultimately cut across class, gender, ethnic, and status lines if humanity is to continue to exist as a viable species. This interest is the one created in our times by ecological catastrophe. Capitalism’s “grow or die” imperative stands radically at odds with ecology’s imperative of interdependence and limit. The two imperatives can no longer coexist with each other–nor can any society founded on the myth that they can be reconciled hope to survive. Either we will establish an ecological society, or society will go under for everyone, irrespective of his or her status.
Will this ecological society be authoritarian, or possibly even totalitarian, a hierarchical dispensation that is implicit in the image of the planet as a “spaceship”? Or will it be democratic? If history is any guide, the development of a democratic ecological society, as distinguished from a command ecological society, must follow its own logic. One cannot resolve this historical dilemma without getting to its roots. Without a searching analysis of our ecological problems and their social sources, the pernicious institutions that we now have will lead to increased centralization and further ecological catastrophe. In a democratic ecological society, those roots are literally the “grass roots” that libertarian municipalism seeks to foster.
For those who rightly call for a new technology, new sources of energy, new means of transportation, and new ecological lifeways, can a new society be anything less than a Community of communities based on confederation rather than statism? We already live in a world in which the economy is “overglobalized,” overcentralized, and overbureaucratized. Much that can be done locally and regionally is now being done–largely for profit, military needs, and imperial appetites–on a global scale with a seeming complexity that can actually be easily diminished.
If this seems too “utopian” for our time, then so must the present flood of literature that asks for radically sweeping shifts in energy policies, far-reaching reductions in air and water pollution, and the formulation of worldwide plans to arrest global warming and the destruction of the ozone layer be seen as “utopian.” Is it too much, it is fair to ask, to take such demands one step further and call for institutional and economic changes that are no less drastic and that in fact are based on traditions that are deeply sedimented in American–indeed, the world’s–noblest democratic and political traditions?
Nor are we obliged to expect these changes to occur immediately. The Left long worked with minimum and maximum programs for change, in which immediate steps that can be taken now were linked by transitional advances and intermediate areas that would eventually yield ultimate goals. Minimal steps that can be taken now include initiating Left Green municipalist movements that propose popular neighborhood and town assemblies–even if they have only moral functions at first–and electing town and city councilors that advance the cause of these assemblies and other popular institutions. These minimal steps can lead step-by-step to the formation of confederal bodies and the increasing legitimation of truly democratic bodies. Civic banks to fund municipal enterprises and land purchases; the fostering of new ecologically oriented enterprises that are owned by the community; and the creation of grassroots networks in many fields of endeavor and the public weal–all these can be developed at a pace appropriate to changes that are being made in political life.
That capital will likely “migrate” from communities and confederations that are moving toward libertarian municipalism is a problem that every community, every nation, whose political life has become radicalized has faced. Capital, in fact, normally “migrates” to areas where it can acquire high profits, irrespective of political considerations. Overwhelmed by fears of capital migration, a good case could be established for not rocking the political boat at any time. Far more to the point are that municipally owned enterprises and farms could provide new ecologically valuable and health-nourishing products to a public that is becoming increasingly aware of the low-quality goods and staples that being are foisted on it now.
Libertarian municipalism is a politics that can excite the public imagination, appropriate for a movement that is direly in need of a sense of direction and purpose. The papers that appear in this collection offer ideas, ways, and means not only to undo the present social order but to remake it drastically–expanding its residual democratic traditions into a rational and ecological society.
This addendum seems to be necessary because some of the opponents of libertarian municipalism–and, regrettably, some of its acolytes–misunderstand what libertarian municipalism seeks to achieve–indeed, misunderstand its very nature.
For some of its instrumental acolytes, libertarian municipalism is becoming a tactical device to gain entry into so-called independent movements and new third parties that call for “grassroots politics,” such as those proposed by NOW and certain labor leaders. In the name of “libertarian municipalism,” some radical acolytes of the view are prepared to blur the tension that they should cultivate between the civic realm and the state–presumably to gain greater public attention in electoral campaigns for gubernatorial, congressional, and other state offices. These radicals regrettably warp libertarian municipalism into a mere “tactic” or “strategy” and drain it of its revolutionary content.
But those who propose to use tenets of libertarian municipalism for “tactical” reasons as a means to enter another reformist party or function as its “left wing” have little in common with the idea. Libertarian municipalism is not product of the formal logic that has such deep roots in left-wing “analyses” and “strategies” today, despite the claims of many radicals that “dialectics” is their “method.” The struggle toward creating new civic institutions out of old ones (or replacing the old ones altogether) and creating civic confederations is a self-formative one, a creative dynamic formed from the tension of social conflict. The effort to work along these lines is as much a part of the end as the process of maturing from the child to the adult–from the relatively undifferentiated to the fully differentiated–with all its difficulties. The very fight for a municipal confederation, for municipal control of “property,” and for the actual achievement of worldwide municipal confederation is directed toward achieving a new ethos of citizenship and community, not simply to gain victories in largely reformist conflicts.
Thus, libertarian municipalism is not merely an effort simply to “take over” city councils to construct a more “environmentally friendly” city government. These adherents–or opponents–of libertarian municipalism, in effect, look at the civic structures that exist before their eyes now and essentially (all rhetoric to the contrary aside) take them as they exist. Libertarian municipalism, by contrast, is an effort to transform and democratize city governments, to root them in popular assemblies, to knit them together along confederal lines, to appropriate a regional economy along confederal and municipal lines.
In fact, libertarian municipalism gains its life and its integrity precisely from the dialectical tension it proposes between the nation-state and the municipal confederation. Its “law of life,” to use an old Marxian term, consists precisely in its struggle with the state. The tension between municipal confederations and the state must be clear and uncompromising. Since these confederations would exist primarily in opposition to statecraft, they cannot be compromised by state, provincial, or national elections, much less achieved by these means. Libertarian municipalism is formed by its struggle with the state, strengthened by this struggle, indeed defined by this struggle. Divested of this dialectical tension with the state, libertarian municipalism becomes little more than “sewer socialism.”
Many heroic comrades who are prepared to do battle (one day) with the cosmic forces of capitalism find that libertarian municipalism is too thorny, irrelevant, or vague to deal with and opt for what is basically a form of political particularism. Our spray-can or “alternative cafe” radicals may choose to brush libertarian municipalism aside as “a ludicrous tactic,” but it never ceases to amaze me that well-meaning radicals who are committed to the “overthrow” of capitalism (no less!) find it too difficult to function politically–and, yes, electorally–in their own neighborhoods for a new politics based on a genuine democracy. If they cannot provide a transformative politics for their own neighborhood–a relatively modest task–or diligently work at doing so with the constancy that used to mark the more mature left movements of the past, I find it very hard to believe that they will ever do much harm to the present social system. Indeed, by creating cultural centers, parks, and good housing, they may well be improving the system by giving capitalism a human face without diminishing its underlying unfreedom as a hierarchical and class society.
A bouquet of struggles for “identity” has often fractured rising radical movements since SDS in the 1960s, ranging from foreign to domestic nationalisms. Because these identity struggles are so popular today, some of the critics of libertarian municipalism invoke “public opinion” against it. But when has it been the task of revolutionaries to surrender to “public opinion”–not even the “public opinion” of the oppressed, whose views can often be very reactionary? Truth has its own life–regardless of whether the oppressed masses perceive or agree on what is true. Nor is it “elitist” to invoke truth, in contradiction to even radical public opinion, when that opinion essentially seeks a march backward into the politics of particularism and even racism. It is very easy to drop to all fours these days, but as radicals our most important need is to stand on two feet–that is, to be as fully human as possible–and to challenge the existing society in behalf of our shared common humanity, not on the basis of gender, race, age, and the like.
Critics of libertarian municipalism even dispute the very possibility of a “general interest.” If, for such critics, the face-to-face democracy advocated by libertarian municipalism and the need to extend the premises of democracy beyond mere justice to complete freedom do not suffice as a “general interest,” it would seem to me that the need to repair our relationship with the natural world is certainly a “general interest” that is beyond dispute–and, indeed, it remains the “general interest” advanced by social ecology. It may be possible to coopt many dissatisfied elements in the present society, but nature is not cooptable. Indeed, the only politics that remains for the left is one based on the premise that there is a “general interest” in democratizing society and preserving the planet. Now that traditional forces such as the workers’ movement have ebbed from the historical scene, it can be said with almost complete certainty that without libertarian municipalism, the left will have no politics whatever.
A dialectical view of the relationship of confederalism to the nation-state, an understanding of the narrowness, introverted character, and parochialism of identity-movements, and a recognition that the workers’ movement is essentially dead–all illustrate that if a new politics is going to develop today, it must be unflinchingly public, in contrast to the alternative-cafe “politics” advanced by many radicals today. It must be electoral on a municipal basis, confederal in its vision, and revolutionary in its character.
Indeed, in my view, libertarian municipalism, with its emphasis on confederalism, is precisely the “Commune of communes” for which anarchists have fought over the past two centuries. Today, it is the “red button” that must be pushed if a radical movement is to open the door to the public sphere. To leave that red button untouched and slip back into the worst habits of the post-1968 New Left, when the notion of “power” was divested of utopian or imaginative qualities, is to reduce radicalism to yet another subculture that will probably live more on heroic memories than on the hopes of a rational future. ¤
April 3, 1991; addendum, October 1, 1991
This article was originally published as the introduction to the Social Ecology Project’s Readings in Libertarian Municipalism, a collection of writings on the subject.
Letter to the Editor
On Nontheistic Spirituality
In the main I agree with Janet Biehl’s contention in “On Theistic Spirituality” [Green Pespectives 14] that theistic spirituality poses special problems for a rigorously environmental outlook. I think we must avoid, however, any implication that a rejection of theistic spirituality involves a rejection of spirituality per se. While the concept of a transcendental deity governing the world–whether masculine, feminine, or neuter–must be rejected as hierarchical, it is nonetheless possible to locate an ultimate spiritual principle within human consciousness, both individual and collective.
It is not at all evident to me why ecology should be particularly committed to a “naturalistic” philosophy in the sense that Biehl seems to mean. First, a clear distinction must be made between “naturalism” in the classical sense as a philosophical tendency based on an essentially mechanistic worldview, and the more contemporary usage which equates “naturalism” with an organic and ecological worldview. The former brackets out spirituality and values on the ground that they cannot be reduced to the empirical laws of science, and thus perpetuates rather than resolves a split between objectivity and subjectivity. The latter, however, with its more wholistic outlook, opens up the possiblity for a true reintegration of the subjective and the objective–and by extension of the sacred and the secular.
The solution to the problem of “dualism of spirit and matter” is not simply to reject spirit in favor of matter, which is the typical course resorted to in classical naturalism. It can be argued that a materialistic and mechanistic view of nature, which has been the main thrust of Western philosophy since the Renaissance, is itself responsible for much environmental degradation. By promoting the idea of unending progress, achieved through scientific advance and technological manipulation, the heirs of the European Enlightenment have denied not only the importance, but also the validity, of spirituality and values. We are left with a purely materialistic philosophy, which sees nature in purely mechanistic terms. This philosophy offers no opportunities for higher values; indeed, it ultimately undermines even its own humanistic values, since humans too come to be looked at as nothing more than biological mechanisms to be manipulated both scientifically and socially.
The contemporary problem, then, is a truncated, materialistic monism which fails to integrate the spiritual and the subjective into its worldview. This monism would not have been possible, however, had there not been a prior dualistic tendency to split the spiritual from nature and to invest it in a transcendental realm, i.e., Supernature. In moving from animism to theism, Western civilization shifted from a perspective which originally located spirit within nature to a view which located spirit in a realm above nature. Theism is thus a decidedly negative development in the history of Western spirituality, not only because it deprives humankind of an inner, intuitive spiritual consciousness, but also because it ultimately deprives nature of its intrinsic value. Ultimate “truth, goodness, and beauty” are no longer to be found in the world itself, but are invested instead in a transcendental God.
We must reappropriate huamnity’s inherent capacity to create values and spiritual meaning. I would put forth nontheistic mysticism (cf. Erich Fromm’s religious nontheism and Fritz Mauthner’s gottloese Mystik) as a spiritual alternative which avoids the pitfalls of both transcendental theism and materialistic atheism, and which can provide the basis for a philosophy of nature which sees both nature and humankind not in purely materialistic terms, but as wholly permeated and suffused with value and meaning. Spirit and matter can thus be rejoined in one metaphysical reality. By relocating the spiritual principle within the self and within nature we may be able to once again see spirituality as an important and integral part of the world and of human consciousness.
Those who are familiar with social ecology’s view of nature know that social ecology does not conceive of “naturalism” in what Evanoff describes as the “classical” sense of “mechanism.” To be sure, many things in both human and nonhuman nature do have a mechanistic aspect to their functioning: the pumping of a heart, for example, is at least partly mechanical, as is the hinge of an elbow. Problems arise when mechanism is turned into a worldview, as it notoriously has. Clearly, such a worldview is inadequate–it cannot account for those aspects of nature that do not function mechanistically. The historical consequences of this worldview–in conjunction with social hierarchy and an expanding market economy–have been disastrous, both for human beings and the biosphere. Social ecology has explicitly rejected the mechanistic worldview view since Bookchin’s “Ecology and Revolutionary Thought” in 1964.
Moreover, in the philosophical framework of mechanism and its descendants, discussions of the spiritual must necessarily perpetuate the dualism of “spirit-matter.” Thus, even if we deny that there is a transcendent, divine “ghost” that inhabits or supports the “machine” nature, we can simply give that ghost another name (but continue to conceive of nature as a machine). Thus, after rejecting a god, one may still worship ersatz-gods like power, or money, or the market, or the nation, or the Absolute, or glamour, or success, or a particular person. Within the psyche, habits of worship are not deeply changed when the object of worship is changed from Yahweh to Madonna–or to an “immanent” goddess; thus, a New York Times editorial (May 12, 1991) freely extends its “respect and sympathy” to goddess-worship–while the social “machine” remains noticeably unchanged.
Like me, Evanoff is not content to rename the ghost in the machine as “goddess.” Rather, also like me, he wants to change our view of nature from one of a “machine” to one of an organic phenomenon. As much as I agree with Evanoff that nature is organic, defining it this way not enough–it too is a partial truth, extended to the whole. Not all of nature is organic: in fact, only a very small portion of the cosmos as we know it is truly organic. Nature is partly mechanistic, and it is partly organic–and other aspects of it don’t fit into either of these categories, such as areas studied by subatomic physics and astrophysics.
Thus, I find Evanoff’s alternative reconception of nature not wrong, but not adequate either. Social ecology, for its part, conceives of nature not only mechanistically and organically but above all developmentally, as an evolving process, as the history of nature. It sees organic nature as evolving out of inorganic nature, even as organic nature itself evolves. Within this evolution, different forms of subjectivity have emerged of which the most differentiated that we know of is human consciousness and self-consciousness. This consciousness is informed by a wealth of aspects: not only conventional reason and dialectical reason, but all varieties of emotion, passions, sensations, sensualities, and aesthetic appreciation. This constellation of subjectivities is rooted in the very nature out of which it emerges, yet of which it remains a part. Social ecology terms this wealth of sensibility “spirituality.”
I’m not certain what Evanoff means by a “spiritual principle in human consciousness,” but its very nonspecficity could become a problem. Evanoff cites Erich Fromm’s “religious nontheism” as a spiritual alternative, but I cannot help but wonder why posit anything religious at all? When Fromm writes that “The human reality . . . underlying the teachings of Buddha, Isaiah, Christ, Socrates, or Spinoza is essentially the same. It is determined by the striving for love, truth, and justice.” The very fact that Fromm can name the ethical teachings in secular terms seems to dispense with the need for either a nontheistic “spiritual principle” or a “religious nontheism.” If the valuable kernel of even humanistic, nontheistic religion consists of things that we can now name in secular terms, why need we justify them in terms of “the spiritual” at all?
The major world religions have played an important part in shaping who we all are today–and I wouldn’t even write of theism, as as Evanoff does, as entirely “negative.” The point, however, is that we know better now than to return to religion or mysticism. The important question today is not so much how we reconceive the spiritual as how we reconceive the natural. If we reconceive nature as a developmental process, we no longer need to reify a “spiritual principle” but understand that human subjectivity, in all its specificities, emerges out of that process, even as it remains rooted in it. ¤
Green Party Cofounder Icke Goes New Age
by Wendy M. Grossman
New Zealand is going to disappear. Los Angeles will split off from the American mainland. The Isle of Arran, Teesside, and the Kent cliffs will be under water by Christmas 1991. These predictions startled all of Britain in March. The man making them was David Icke (pronouncd “Ike”), a former sports star, one of the cofounders of the Green Party (an environmentalist political party), and a well-known TV sports commentator.
Dressed in a turquoise track suit (“the color of wisdom”), Icke called a press conference to announce his apocalyptic visions. The British press were fascinated; however, they were even more impressed by Icke’s new companion, a young woman he introduced as his “soul mate,” who was moving into his house to live iwth Icke and his wife.
According to the Daily Mail, Icke’s sporting career–he was soccer goalkeeper–ended when he was 21 and developed rheumatoid arthritis. During the 1980s, while he was the spokesman for the Green Party, he began experimenting with fringe medicine and spiritualism as part of his seach for an arthritis cure. In August 1990, following the termination of his BBC contract, Icke met a group of self-styled psychics at a Green Party exhibition. One of them, Deborah Shaw, now Mari Schawsun and, according to Icke, a “daughter of Christ,” invited Icke to Calgary and took him to visit the Blackfoot Indians.
From there, he seems to have delved further and further into New Age philosophies. Now Icke belives he has a mission to save the world; his wife, Linda, has been renamed Michaela (he says she is “an aspect of the Archangel Michael”); and he is, sadly to many people, the laughing stock of Britain. ¤
Wendy Grossman writes out of Richmond, Surrey, U.K. This article is reprinted from Skeptical Inquirer magazine.
The New York Times on goddess worship:
Goddess worship [is] a new development in America’s spiritual life . . . It is rooted in reverence for the ultimate mother, for woman as the giver of life.
Promoters of the movement cite ancient cultures that revered goddesses. In such societies, they say, life was peaceful, cooperative and egalitarian, while in societies focused on the male gods it was violent, authoritarian and stratified. . . .
The rising interest in goddess worship has . . . prompted ridicule. Some critics consider it so much New Age nonsense or a return to paganism. But if it appears flaky on the surface, it still warrants sympathy and respect. For it proceeds from the values of nurturing, peace and harmony with nature–values as profoundly human as motherhood itself.
Editorial, The New York Times
May 12, 1991
The article “Farewell to the German Greens” in Green Perspectives 23 contained the following error:
*The delegates to the Neumunster congress did NOT choose Hubert Kleinert and Antje Vollmer for the top positions. Rather, they chose Ludger Volmer, a moderate leftist, and Christine Weiske, the easterner mentioned in the article.
It should be noted that after the congress, the SPD in Rhineland-Palatinate decided NOT to make a coalition with the Greens after all, because of its uncertainties about the Greens as a result of the congress.
The “structural reforms” were passed as reported in the article, however, as was a position paper on capitalism that is, according to Jutta Ditfurth, farther to the right than the recent papal encyclical. Green Perspectives regards the Rhineland-Palatinate SPD’s anxieties as unwarranted, and the conclusions we reached in the article stand. Thanks to Peter Staudenmaier for calling our attention to the error.
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