Bias,
Liberation, and Cosmopolis
Bernard J. F. Lonergan, S.J.
3. Intersubjectivity and
Social Order
Though I just spoke of a functional unity to be discovered, really
there is a duality to be grasped.
As intelligent, man sponsors the order imposed by common sense. But
man is not a pure intelligence. Initially and spontaneously, he
identifies the good with the object of desire, and this desire is not to
be confused either with animal impulse or with egoistic scheming.
Man is an artist. His practicality is part of his dramatic pursuit of
dignified living. His aim is not for raw and isolated satisfactions.
If he never dreams of disregarding the little matter of food and drink,
still what he wants is a sustained succession of varied and artistically
transformed acquisitions and attainments.
If he never forgets his personal interest, still his person is no
Leibnizian monad; for he was born of his parents’ love; he grew and
developed in the gravitational field of their affection; he asserted his
own independence only to fall in love and provide himself with his own
hostages to fortune.
As the members of the hive or herd belong together and function
together, so too men are social animals and the primordial basis of their
community is not the discovery of an idea but a spontaneous
intersubjectivity.
Thus, primitive community is intersubjective. Its schemes of
recurrence are simple prolongations of prehuman attainment, too obvious to
be discussed or criticized, too closely linked with more elementary
processes to be distinguished sharply from them. The bond of mother and
child, man and wife, father and son, reaches into a past of ancestors to
give meaning and cohesion to the clan or tribe or nation. A sense of
belonging together provides the dynamic premise for common enterprise, for
mutual aid and succour, for the sympathy that augments joys and divides
sorrows.
Even after civilization is attained, intersubjective community survives
in the family with its circle of relatives and its accretion of friends,
in customs and folk-ways, in basic arts and crafts and skills, in language
and song and dance, and most concretely of all in the inner psychology and
radiating influence of women.
Nor is the abiding significance and efficacy of the intersubjective
overlooked, when motley states name themselves nations, when constitutions
are attributed to founding fathers, when image and symbol, anthem and
assembly, emotion and sentiment are invoked to impart an elemental vigour
and pitch to the vast and cold, technological, economic, and political
structures of human invention and convention.
Finally, as intersubjective community precedes civilization and
underpins it, so also it remains when civilization suffers disintegration
and decay. The collapse of Imperial Rome was the resurgence of family and
clan, feudal dynasty and nation.
Though civil community has its obscure origins in human
intersubjectivity, though it develops imperceptibly, though it decks
itself out with more primitive attractions, still it is a new creation.
The time comes when men begin to ask about the difference between φυσισ
and νομος, between nature and convention.
There arises the need of the apologue to explain to the different
classes of society that together they form a functional unity and that no
group should complain of its lot any more than a man’s feet, which do all
the walking, complain of his mouth, which does all the eating.
The question may be evaded and the apologue may convince, but the fact
is that human society has shifted away from its initial basis of
intersubjectivity and has attempted a more grandiose undertaking.
The discoveries of practical intelligence, which once were an
incidental addition to the spontaneous fabric of human living, now
penetrate and overwhelm its every aspect.
For just as technology and capital formation interpose their schemes of
recurrence between man and the rhythms of nature, so economics and
politics are vast structures of interdependence invented by practical
intelligence for the mastery not of nature but of man.
This transformation forces on man a new notion of the good. In
primitive society it is possible to identify the good simply with the
object of desire; but in civil community there has to be acknowledged a
further component, which we propose to name the good of order.
It consists in an intelligible pattern of relationships that condition
the fulfilment of each man’s desires by his contributions to the
fulfilment of the desires of others and, similarly, protect each from the
object of his fears in the measure he contributes to warding off the
objects feared by others.
This good of order is not some entity dwelling apart from human actions
and attainments. Nor is it any unrealized ideal that ought to be but is
not. But though it is not abstract but concrete, not ideal but real,
still it cannot be identified either with desires or with their objects or
with their satisfactions.
For these are palpable ad particular, but the good of order is
intelligible and all-embracing. A single order ramifies through the whole
community to constitute the link between conditioning actions and
conditioned results and to close the circuit of interlocked schemes of
recurrence.
Again, economic break-down and political decay are not the absence of
this or that object of desire or the presence of this or that object of
fear; they are the break-down and decay of the good of order, the failure
of schemes of recurrence to function.
Man’s practical intelligence devises arrangements for human living; and
in the measure that such arrangements are understood and accepted, there
necessarily results the intelligible pattern of relationships that we have
named the good of order.
In a simple yet inexorable fashion, this order, originated by human
invention and convention, ceases to be an optional adjunct and becomes an
indispensable constituent of human living.
For the long-run effects of technological advance and new capital
formation consist in some combination of increased population, reduced
work, and improved living standards.
In the course of a century the differences in all three respects may be
so great that any return to an earlier state of affairs is regarded as
preposterous and is to be brought about only by violence or disaster.
But concomitant with the technological and the material development,
there also takes place a complementary series of economic and political
innovations.
Each of these is motivated, to a greater or less extent, by the
underlying technical and material changes; each, sooner or later,
undergoes the adaptations demanded by subsequent changes; and so at any
given moment all together present a united front that can be broken only
by the destructive turmoil of a revolution or a conquest.
Moreover, ideas have no geographical frontiers, and profits accrue to
traders not only from domestic but also from foreign markets.
Material and social progress refuses to be confined to a single
country; like an incoming tide, first it reaches the promontories, then it
penetrates the bays, and finally it pours up the estuaries.
In an intricate pattern of lags and variations, new ideas spread over
most of the earth to bind together in an astounding interdependence the
fortunes of individuals living disparate lives in widely separated lands.
Next: The
Tension of Community
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