Writing about the social sciences, since the man whose work is guided by knowledge “is always kind,” Zola reasoned, we may be confident that the “illimitable future” of the “coming [-twentieth] century” will witness “the greatest happiness possible on earth.”
'...since the man whose work is guided by knowledge “is always kind!”' And you wonder why the radical is confident in his efforts. And why the average guy has so much to fear.
In his essay “Non-Acting,” which defends the opposite thesis, Tolstoy, paraphrasing Lao Tzu, the founder of Taoism, maintains that “the ills of humanity arise . . . not because men neglect to do things that are necessary but because they do things that are unnecessary.” The more confident we are that we can achieve the greatest human happiness, the more likely it is that we will create the greatest misery.
In War and Peace and Anna Karenina, he had developed a similar doctrine. The ancient Chinese teacher rejected not all action, but only intentional efforts counter to the nature of things. It is wiser to respect the world’s spontaneous tendencies and work within the limits they set. Lao Tzu and Tolstoy considered the most dangerous people to be those who imagine they possess the knowledge—Tolstoy calls it “science”—to accomplish what they deem beneficial. “Exterminate the [purported] sage, discard the [supposedly] wise,” Lao Tzu advises, “and the people will benefit a hundredfold.”
In his essay “Non-Acting,” which defends the opposite thesis, Tolstoy, paraphrasing Lao Tzu, the founder of Taoism, maintains that “the ills of humanity arise . . . not because men neglect to do things that are necessary but because they do things that are unnecessary.” The more confident we are that we can achieve the greatest human happiness, the more likely it is that we will create the greatest misery.
In War and Peace and Anna Karenina, he had developed a similar doctrine. The ancient Chinese teacher rejected not all action, but only intentional efforts counter to the nature of things. It is wiser to respect the world’s spontaneous tendencies and work within the limits they set. Lao Tzu and Tolstoy considered the most dangerous people to be those who imagine they possess the knowledge—Tolstoy calls it “science”—to accomplish what they deem beneficial. “Exterminate the [purported] sage, discard the [supposedly] wise,” Lao Tzu advises, “and the people will benefit a hundredfold.”
It is astonishing how many come to mind.
Ever since Newton reduced the amazingly complex movements of the planets to four simple laws, endless “moral Newtonians,” as historian Élie Halévy called them, have claimed to do the same for society. Wisdom begins with the recognition that one cannot possibly take all contingencies into account and that surprise belongs to the very nature of things. Battle, or the workings of society, do not at all resemble the movements of the planets. One must learn to make decisions under irremediable uncertainty.
Good drivers, chefs, and violin players do not possess a science, yet there is no gainsaying their superior performance. To put the point differently, wisdom differs from knowledge. It is not formalizable, and it comes of experience reflected on thoughtfully. As Aristotle explained, that is why young people can be good at mathematics but not at moral decision-making, or at any activity requiring judgment acquired through long experience. “Long years of military experience had taught him, and the wisdom of old age had convinced him, that it is impossible for one man to direct hundreds of thousands of men struggling with death, and he knew that the fate of a battle is decided not by the dispositions of a commander in chief . . . but by that intangible force called the spirit of the army, and he took cognizance of that force and guided it insofar as it lay in his power.” By raising the soldiers’ morale and nudging them in the right direction, he does all that can be done. And the decisive burning of Moscow was not a plan or tactic. Tolstoy concludes: “Moscow was burned by its inhabitants, it is true, but by those who abandoned her, not by those who stayed behind.”
Change is possible only within the limits set by “the natural order of things”—in this case, the sum total of habits and practices, chosen by no one and accumulated haphazardly over centuries—that constitutes “the elemental force.” (culled from Morston)
Ever since Newton reduced the amazingly complex movements of the planets to four simple laws, endless “moral Newtonians,” as historian Élie Halévy called them, have claimed to do the same for society. Wisdom begins with the recognition that one cannot possibly take all contingencies into account and that surprise belongs to the very nature of things. Battle, or the workings of society, do not at all resemble the movements of the planets. One must learn to make decisions under irremediable uncertainty.
Good drivers, chefs, and violin players do not possess a science, yet there is no gainsaying their superior performance. To put the point differently, wisdom differs from knowledge. It is not formalizable, and it comes of experience reflected on thoughtfully. As Aristotle explained, that is why young people can be good at mathematics but not at moral decision-making, or at any activity requiring judgment acquired through long experience. “Long years of military experience had taught him, and the wisdom of old age had convinced him, that it is impossible for one man to direct hundreds of thousands of men struggling with death, and he knew that the fate of a battle is decided not by the dispositions of a commander in chief . . . but by that intangible force called the spirit of the army, and he took cognizance of that force and guided it insofar as it lay in his power.” By raising the soldiers’ morale and nudging them in the right direction, he does all that can be done. And the decisive burning of Moscow was not a plan or tactic. Tolstoy concludes: “Moscow was burned by its inhabitants, it is true, but by those who abandoned her, not by those who stayed behind.”
Change is possible only within the limits set by “the natural order of things”—in this case, the sum total of habits and practices, chosen by no one and accumulated haphazardly over centuries—that constitutes “the elemental force.” (culled from Morston)
Tolstoy as Hayek.
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