Voegelin’s
experience of American culture
in the
mid-1920s
was decisive to
his intellectual development. Prior to his visit, American forms of thought had
been utterly foreign to him. This insight into the fact of cultural
differentiation forced a shift of intellectual horizon: “That there should be
such a plurality of worlds had a devastating effect on me. The experience broke
for good, at least I hope it did, my provincialism of a Central European or
generally European kind without letting me fall into an American
provincialism.” In short,
Wisconsin inoculated him against Heidegger.
Of special interest to me is his exposure to
Alfred North Whitehead
and his admiration of George Santayana. From Modern Age: A Quarterly Review,
26:3-4, Summer-Fall 1982, 332-333. A note appended to this essay reads:
“From an autobiographical memoir, tape recorded by Prof. Ellis Sandoz, and amply
used in his recent monograph on The Voegelinian Revolution (LSD Press,
1982.)
The American Experience
Eric Voegelin
I was awarded one of
the first Laura Spellman Rockefeller Memorial Fellowships and came to the
United States from Austria for two years of study at
Columbia,
Harvard, and
Wisconsin
in 1924. These two years in America brought the great break in my
intellectual development. . . . At Columbia University I had courses with
[Franklin Henry] Giddings the sociologist, John Dewey, and Irwin Edman,
John Wesley the economist, [John Whittier] Macmahon in public
administration, and I was overwhelmed by a new world of which hitherto I
had hardly suspected the existence.
The most important
influence came from the library. During the year in New York, I started working through the history of English philosophy and its
expansion into American thought. My studies were strongly motivated and
helped by Dewey and Edman. I discovered English and American commonsense
philosophy. More immediately the impact came through Dewey’s recent book
on Human Nature and Conduct (1922) which was based on the English
commonsense tradition. From there I worked back to Reid and [Sir William]
Hamilton. This English conception of common sense as a human attitude which
incorporates a philosopher’s attitude toward life without the
philosopher’s technical apparatus, and inversely the understanding of
Classic and Stoic philosophy as a technical, analytical elaboration of the
commonsense attitude, has remained a lasting influence in my understanding
both of common sense and Classic philosophy. I got the first inkling of
what the continued tradition of Classic philosophy on the commonsense
level, without necessarily the technical apparatus of an Aristotle, could
mean for the intellectual climate and the cohesion of a society. The
tradition of common sense I now recognized to be the factor that was
signally absent from the German social scene, and not so well developed in
France as it was in England and America . . . . In this year in New York I
began to sense that American society had a philosophical background far
superior in range and existential substance, though not always in
articulation, to anything that I found represented in the methodological
environment in which I had grown up.
During the year at
Columbia,
when I took courses with Dewey and Giddings and read their work, I became
aware of the categories of social substance in the English-speaking world.
John Dewey’s category was “likemindedness,” and I found that
“likemindedness” was the term used by the King James Version to translate
the New Testament homonoia. That was the first time I became aware
of the problem of homonoia about which I knew extremely little at
the time, because my knowledge of Classic philosophy was still quite
insufficient and my knowledge of Christian problems practically
nonexistent. Only later, when I had learned Greek and was able to read
the texts in the original, did I become aware of the fundamental function
of such categories for determining what the substance of society really
is. The term of Giddings was the “consciousness of kind.” Though I did
not know very much about the background of these problems, I remember
already becoming aware that Giddings was intending the same problem as
John Dewey but preferred a terminology that would not make visible the
connection of the problem with the Classic and Christian traditions. It
was an attempt to transform the homonoia, in the sense of a
community of the spirit, into something innocuous like a community of kind
in a biological sense.
The first year at
Columbia
was then supplemented by the second year in which the strongest impression
was, at Harvard, the newly arrived Alfred North Whitehead. Of course I
still could understand only a very small portion of what Whitehead said in
his lectures, and I had to work myself into the cultural and historical
background of his work that came out at the time, Science and the Modem
World (1925). But it brought to my attention that there was such a
background into which I had to work myself more intensely if I wanted to
understand Anglo-Saxon civilization.
The occasion for
expanding my knowledge offered itself in the second semester of the year
1925-26 when I went to
Wisconsin.
I had become aware of the work of John R. Commons at Columbia, as during that year his Human Nature and Property was
published . . . . In Wisconsin I got into what I considered at the time,
with my still limited knowledge, to be the real, authentic America: It was
represented by John R. Commons, who took on for me the shape of a
Lincolnesque figure, strongly connected with the economic and political
problems, both on the state and national level, and with particular
accents on the labor problem . . . .
The account of the
American experience would be incomplete without mentioning the strong
influence of George Santayana. I have never met him, but I got acquainted
with his work in
New York,
partly through the suggestion of Irwin Edman. I studied his work with
care and still have in my library the copies which I bought in that year
in New York. Santayana was a revelation concerning philosophy to me comparable to
the revelation I received at the same time through commonsense philosophy.
Here was a man with a vast background of philosophical knowledge,
sensitive to the problems of the spirit without accepting a dogma, and not
interested at all in neo-Kantian methodology . . . .
The results of these
two years in America precipitated my book On the Form of the American Mind . . . .
This literary work in which I assembled the results of the two American
years does not, however, give a full understanding of the importance which
these two years had in my life. The great event was the fact of being
thrown into a world for which the great methodological debates of the
neo-Kantian type, which I considered the most important thing
intellectually, were of no importance. Instead, there was the background
of the great political foundation of 1776 and 1789, and of the unfolding
of the founding act through a political and legal culture, primarily
represented by the lawyers’ guild and the Supreme Court. There was the
strong background of Christianity and Classical culture which was so
signally fading out, if not missing, in the methodological debates in
which I had grown up as a student.
In brief, here was a world in which this other world that I had grown
up in was intellectually, morally, and spiritually irrelevant. That there
should be such a plurality of worlds had a devastating effect on me. The
experience broke for good, at least I hope it did, my provincialism of a
Central European or generally European kind without letting me fall into
an American provincialism. I gained an understanding through these years
of the plurality of human possibilities realized in various civilizations,
as an immediate experience, an expérience vécue, which hitherto had
been accessible to me only through the comparative study of civilizations,
as I found them in Max Weber, in Spengler, and later in Toynbee. The
immediate effect was that upon my return to Europe certain phenomena which
were of the greatest importance in the intellectual and ideological
context of Central Europe, as for instance the work of Heidegger, whose
famous Sein und Zeit I read in 1928, no longer had any effect on
me. It just ran off, because I had been immunized against this whole
context of philosophizing through my time in
America and especially in
Wisconsin.
The priorities and relations of importance between various theories had
been fundamentally changed, and as far as I can see for the better.
Posted March 10, 2007
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