When we dream of succeeding in a rapidly changing world, we often forget that the most successful people are polymaths. And gradually, interdisciplinary employees, people with polymathic thinking become one of the most valuable assets.
Often can you see students who do not listen to what their lecturers say? And only imagine that this very lecture is given to a student by his favorite writer or scientist, whose books he reads with great interest. Will he be more attentive to every word, will he take the learning process more seriously and most importantly-will he has a passion, a passion for learning, for mastering new disciplines, new areas, and directions? Would you like to learn from the best of the best? Learn in the process of live communication?
Natella Speranskaya
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By Ricardo Duchesne
Ex: https://fortnightlyreview.co.uk
IN HIS 2003 book, Human Accomplishment: Pursuit of Excellence in the Arts and Sciences, 800 BC to 1950, Charles Murray argued that the great artistic and scientific accomplishments were overwhelmingly European. ”What the human species is today,” he wrote, “it owes in astonishing degree to what was accomplished in just half a dozen centuries by the peoples of one small portion of the northwestern Eurasian land mass.”
This claim goes against the modern grain of the world history community – indeed, against fashionable belief. The New York Times unsurprisingly called it “more bluster than rigor” and “unconvincing”1, but it was nonetheless the first attempt to quantify “as facts” the creative genius of individuals in terms of cultural origin and geographic distribution. Murray did this by calculating the amount of space allocated to these individuals in reference works, encyclopedias, and dictionaries. Based on this metric, he concluded that “whether measured in people or events, 97 percent of accomplishment in the sciences occurred in Europe and North America” from 800 BC to 1950. Murray’s inventories of the arts also confirmed the overpowering role of Europe, particularly after 1400. Although Murray did not compare their achievements but compiled separate lists for each civilization, he noted that the sheer number of “significant figures” in the arts is higher in the West in comparison to the combined number of the other civilizations. He explained this remarkable “divergence” in human accomplishments in terms of the degree to which cultures promote or discourage autonomy and purpose. I am persuaded that individualism is one of the critical variables.2
The point I want to make, however, is that Murray pays no attention to accomplishments in other human endeavors such as leadership, exploration, and heroic deeds. The achievements he measures come only in the form of “great books” and “great ideas.” In this respect, Murray’s book is similar to certain older-style Western Civ textbooks where the progression of modern liberal ideals is the central theme. David Gress dubbed this type of historiography the “Grand Narrative.” By teaching Western history in terms of the realization of liberal democratic values, these texts “placed a burden of justification on the West … to explain how the reality differed from the ideal.’3 Gress called upon historians to do away with this idealized image of Western uniqueness and to emphasize the realities of Western geopolitical struggles and mercantile interests. Norman Davies, too, has criticized the way early Western civilization courses tended to “filter out anything that might appear mundane or repulsive.”4
MY VIEW IS that Europeans were not only exceptional in their literary endeavors, but also in their agonistic and expansionist behaviors. Their great books, including their liberal values, were themselves inseparably connected to their aristocratic ethos of competitive individualism. There is no need to concede to multicultural critics, as Davies does, “the sorry catalogue of wars, conflict, and persecutions that have dogged every stage of the [Western] tale.”5 The expansionist dispositions of Europeans as well as their literary and other achievements were similarly driven by an aggressive and individually felt desire for superlative and undemocratic recognition.
It has been said that when Mahatma Gandhi was asked what he thought of Western civilization he answered, “I think it would be a good idea.” Academics today interpret this answer to mean that the actual history of the West—such things as the conquest of the Americas and the expansion of the British Empire— belie its great ideas and great books. I challenge this naïve separation between an idealized and a realistic West borrowing Oswald Spengler’s image of the West as a strikingly vibrant culture driven by a type of personality overflowing with expansive, disruptive, and creative impulses. Spengler designated the West as a “Faustian” culture whose “prime-symbol” was “pure and limitless space.” This spirit was first visible in medieval Europe, starting with Romanesque art, but particularly in the “spaciousness of Gothic cathedrals;” “the heroes” of the Scandinavian, Germanic, and Icelandic sagas; the Crusades; the Viking sailing of the North Atlantic Ocean; the Germanic conquest of the Slavonic East; the Spaniards in the Americas; and the Portuguese in the East Indies.6
“Fighting,” “progressing,” “overcoming of resistances,” struggling “against what is near, tangible and easy”—these are some of the terms Spengler used to describe this soul. This Faustian being is animated with the spirit of a “proud beast of prey,” like that of an “eagle, lion, [or] tiger.” Moreover, the seemingly peaceful achievements of the West, not just its warlike activities, were infused with this Faustian impulse. As John Farrenkopf puts it:
[T]he architecture of the Gothic cathedral expresses the Faustian will to conquer the heavens; Western symphonic music conveys the Faustian urge to conjure up a dynamic, transcendent, infinite space of sound; Western perspective painting mirrors the Faustian will to infinite distance; and the Western novel responds to the Faustian imperative to explore the inner depths of the human personality while extending outward with a comprehensive view.7
IN MY BOOK, The Uniqueness of Western Civilization, I trace the West’s Faustian creativity and libertarian spirit back to the aristocratic warlike culture of Indo-European speakers who began to migrate into Europe roughly after 3500 BC, combining with and subordinating the ‘ranked’ Neolithic cultures of this region. Indo-European speakers originated in the Pontic-Caspian steppes. They initiated the most mobile way of life in prehistoric times, starting with the riding of horses and the invention of wheeled vehicles in the fourth millennium BC, together with the efficient exploitation of the “secondary products” of domestic animals (dairy goods, textiles, large-scale herding), and the invention of chariots in the second millennium. The novelty of Indo-European culture was that it was led by an aristocratic elite that was egalitarian within the group rather than by a single despotic ruler. Indo-Europeans prized heroic warriors striving for individual fame and recognition, often with a “berserker” style of warfare. In the more advanced and populated civilizations of the Near East, Iran, and India, local populations absorbed this conquering group. In Neolithic Europe, the Indo-Europeans imposed themselves as the dominant group, and displaced the native languages but not the natives.
I maintain that the history of European explorations stands as an excellent subject matter for the elucidation of this Faustian restlessness. An overwhelming number of the explorers in history have been European. The Concise Encyclopedia of Explorers lists a total of 274 explorers, of which only 15 are non-European, with none listed after the mid-fifteenth century.8 In the urge to explore new regions of the earth and map the nameless, we can detect, in a crystallized way, the “prime-symbol” of Western restlessness. We can also detect the Western mind’s desire – if I may borrow the language of Hegel – to expand its cognitive horizon, to “subdue the outer world to its ends with an energy which has ensured for it the mastery of the world.”9
The Greeks initiated the science of geography. But just as pertinent is how contentious individuals, born in a culture engaged in widespread colonizing activities between 800 and 500 BC, drove this science. Hecataeus (550 – 476 BC), the author of the first book of geography, Journey Round the World, based his knowledge on his extensive travels along the Mediterranean and the Black Sea. To be sure, the Phoenicians, starting around the first millennium BC, established approximately 30 colonies throughout the African shores in the western Mediterranean, Sardinia, Malta, and as far west as Cádiz in modern Spain. However, more than thirty Greek city-states each established multiple colonies, with some estimating that the city of Miletus alone set up ninety colonies. All in all, Greek colonies were stretched throughout the Mediterranean coasts, the shores of the Black Sea, Anatolia in the east, southern France, Italy, Sicily, and in the northern coast of Africa, not to mention the long colonized islands of the Aegean Sea.
A popular explanation as to why the Greeks launched these overseas colonies is population growth and scarce resources at home. But the evidence shows that much of these colonial operations were small-scale undertakings rather than mass migrations led by impoverished farmers. Commercial interests and the incentive to gain new agricultural lands were motivating factors. But I would also emphasize the “general spirit of adventure” permeating the Greek world since Mycenaean times. Many of the colonies, as A. G. Woodhead has shown, had “their origins in purely individual enterprise or extraordinary happenings.”10
Hecataeus envisioned the world as a disc surrounded by an ocean. But soon there would be a challenger – Herodotus, born in 484BC. He too offered numerous geographical and ethnographic insights based on his extensive travels, and he did so in explicit awareness of his own contributions and in direct criticism of his predecessor. This competitive desire on the part of individuals to stand out from others was ingrained in the whole social outlook of classical Greece: in the Olympic Games, in the perpetual warring of the city-states, in the pursuit of a political career, in the competition among orators for the admiration of the citizens, and in the Athenian theater festivals, where numerous poets would take part in Dionysian competitions amid high civic splendor and religious ritual. New works of drama, philosophy, and music were expounded in the first-person form as an adversarial or athletic contest in the pursuit of truth.
DURING THE HELLENISTIC centuries, explorers would venture into the Caspian, Aral, and Red Seas, establishing trading posts along the coasts of modern Eritrea and Somalia. Perhaps the most successful of Hellenistic explorers was Pytheas. In his book, On the Ocean, he recounts an amazing journey (ca. 310BC) northward to Brittany across the Channel into Cornwall, through the Baltic Sea, the coast of Norway, and even Iceland.11
These explorations encouraged astronomical and geographical scholarship leading to the full conceptualization of the shape of the earth itself by Eratosthenes (276-185BC), who not only contextualized the location of Europe in relation to the Atlantic and the North Sea, but calculated the spherical size of the earth (within 5 percent of its true measure), with the obvious implication that the Mediterranean was only a small portion of the globe. This spirit of inquiry continued through the second century AD, when Ptolemy wrote his System of Astronomy and his Geography, where he rationally explained the principles and methods required in mapmaking and produced the first world map depicting India, China, South-East Asia, the British Isles, Denmark and East Africa.
There was far less desire to explore the geography and landscapes of the world among the peoples of the non-Western world. While in the first century BC the Han dynasty extended its geographical boundaries south into Vietnam, north into Korea, and east into the Tarim Basin, the Chinese showed little geographical interest beyond their own borders. What is striking about Chinese maps in general is how insular they were in comparison with the much earlier maps of Ptolemy. Even a sixteenth-century reproduction of Zheng He’s sailing maps lacks any apposite scale, size, and sense of proportion regarding the major landmasses of the earth.
The Chinese supposition that the earth was flat remained almost unchanged from ancient times until Jesuit missionaries in the seventeenth century brought modern ideas. In stark contrast, Greek philosophers of the fifth and fourth centuries BC were already persuaded that the earth was a sphere. Aristarchus of Samos, who lived about 310 to 230 BC, went so far as to postulate the Copernican hypothesis that all planets revolve in circles around the sun, and that the earth rotates on its axis once in twenty-four hours.
Indian civilization showed little curiosity about the geography of the world; its maps were symbolic and removed from any empirical concern with the actual location of places. Maritime activity among the isolated civilizations of America was restricted to fishing from rafts and canoes. The Phoenicians left no geographical documents of their colonizing expeditions.12
The Vikings “discovered in their gray dawn the art of sailing the seas which emancipated them”—so says Spengler.13 During the last years of the eighth century, marauding bands of Vikings pillaged their way along the coast lines of Northern Europe and down around Spain, into the Mediterranean, Italy, North Africa, and Arabia. Some hauled their long boats overland from the Baltic and made their way down the great Russian rivers all the way to the Black Sea. During the ninth and tenth centuries, their primary aim was no longer plunder as much as finding new lands to settle. Their voyages far into the North Atlantic were “independent undertakings, part of a 300-year epoch of seaborne expansion” which resulted in the settlement of Scandinavian peoples in Shetland, Orkney, the Hebrides, parts of Scotland and Ireland, the Faroe Islands, Iceland, Greenland, and Vinland (present-day Newfoundland).14 They colonized the little-known and unknown lands of Iceland from 870AD onward, Greenland from 980 onward, and then Vinland by the year 1000 AD. The Icelandic geographers of the Middle Ages showed considerable detailed knowledge in their descriptions of the Arctic regions, stretching from Russia to Greenland, and of the eastern seaboard of the North American continent. This is clearly attested in an Icelandic Geographical Treatise preserved in a manuscript dating from about 1300, but possibly based on a twelfth-century original.
Peter Whitfield speculates that “some conscious impulse towards exploration and conquest” must have motivated these voyages, “prompted by harsh living conditions at home.”15 Jesse Byock explains that the settlement of Iceland was led by sailor-farmers seeking to escape population pressures in the Scandinavian mainland, and that, in turn, the settlement of Greenland was initiated by Icelanders escaping Malthusian pressures in Iceland. At the same time, the cultural world Byock reveals, through his careful reading of numerous heroic sagas associated with these voyages and settlements, is that of aristocratic chieftains and free farmers venturing into unknown lands, competing with other chieftains and struggling for survival and renown.16
In the next centuries after the Vikings, the travels of Marco Polo (1254-1324) throughout the Asian world found expression in the Catalan Atlas of 1375, which was quite innovative in showing compass-lines, and in the accurate delineation of the Mediterranean. On the strength of Ptolemy’s work, Islam fostered its own geographical tradition with the benefit of their extensive dominions and travels. Ibn Battuta (1304-1374), the greatest Muslim traveler, visited every Muslim country and neighboring lands. But his “overmastering impulse,” to use his own words, was to visit “illustrious sanctuaries”17 – unlike Marco Polo’s desire, which was to visit non-Christian lands barely visited by Europeans and learn about the unknown tribes of Asia, including the numinous land of Cathay.18 In 1154, the greatest Islamic cartographer, al-Idrisi, produced a large planispheric silver relief map that was original in not portraying the Indian Ocean in a landlocked way and in offering a more precise knowledge of China’s eastern coast. But Islamic geography would go no further.
SPENGLER WRITES THAT the Spaniards and the Portuguese “were possessed by the adventured-craving for uncharted distances and for everything unknown and dangerous.’19 By the beginning of the 1400s, the compass, the portolan chart and certain shipping techniques essential for launching the Age of Exploration were in place. The Portuguese, under the leadership of Henry the Navigator would go on, in the course of the fifteenth century, to round the southern tip of Africa, impose themselves through the Indian Ocean, and eventually reach Japan in the 1540s. They would create accurate maps of West Africa as far as Sierra Leone, as well as rely on Fra Mauro’s new maps, one of which (1457) mapped the totality of the Old World with unmatched accuracy while suggesting, for the first time, a route around the southern tip of Africa. A mere two years after Diaz had sailed around the Cape; Henricus Martellus created his World Map of 1490, which showed both the whole of Africa generally and the specific locations of numerous places across the entire African west coast, detailing the step-by-step advancement of the Portuguese.
The question of what motivated the expeditions of the Portuguese is a classic one, and, conversely, so is the question of why China abandoned the maritime explorations started by Zheng He. Why were his expeditions not as consequential historically as the ones initiated by Henry the Navigator? For Felipe Fernández-Armesto, Zheng He’s voyages were displays of “China’s ability to mount expeditions of crushing strength and dispatch them over vast distances.” Zheng He’s expeditions did not last and were less consequential, according to Fernández-Armesto, because China’s Confucian government assigned priority to “good government at home” rather than “costly adventures” abroad, particularly in the face of barbarian incursions from the north.20
At the same time, Fernández-Armesto portrays China’s mode of exploration in rather admiring terms: her peaceful commerce, scholarship, and even “vital contributions to the economies of every place they settled.’21He almost implies, indeed, that the Chinese, not the Europeans, were the true explorers, on the grounds that He’s expeditions along the Indian Ocean were more difficult (due to wind patterns) than the European ones through the Atlantic, and that the Europeans navigated through the Atlantic in order to overcome their marginalized economic position rather than to explore.
The major flaw in Fernández-Armesto’s account (as in all current accounts) is the unquestioned assumption that the Chinese expeditions were “explorations” stirred by disinterested curiosity while the Portuguese expeditions were primarily economic in motivation. The Chinese did little that can be considered new in the exploratory sense; they did not discover one single nautical mile; the Indian Ocean had long been a place of regular navigation, unlike the Atlantic and the western coasts of Africa. The Portuguese, it is true, were poor and many of the sailors manning the ships were longing for better opportunities, but what drove the leading men above all else was a chivalric desire for renown and superior achievement in the face of economic costs, persistent hardships, and high mortality rates.
The Chinese were ahead of Europe in technology when the 1400s started, but their technology thereafter remained for the most part unchanged; whereas the Portuguese (and Europeans) would advance continuously. Furthermore, the nautical problems the Portuguese had to face were more difficult. As Joseph Needham has noted,
Almost as far as Madagascar the Chinese were in the realms of the monsoons, with which they had been familiar in their own home waters for more than a millennium. But the inhospitable Atlantic had never encouraged sailors in the same way, and though there had been a number of attempts to sail westwards, that ocean had never been systematically explored.22
The main motivations of the Portuguese cannot be adequately explained without considering the chivalric and warlike spirit of the aristocratic fidalgos. Fernández-Armesto acknowledges that the ethos of chivalric honor “did make the region peculiarly conducive to breeding explorers.”23 But to him this was an ethos rooted in medieval romances exclusive to Portugal and Spain. Besides, he rejects any notion of Western uniqueness, and does not properly explain the differences between economic, religious, and chivalric motivations.
As I see it, the chivalric motivations of the Portuguese colored and intensified all their other motivations, and this is why they exhibited an excessive yearning for spices, a crusading zeal against non-Christians, a relentless determination to master the seas. The chivalry of the Portuguese was a knightly variation of the same Faustian longing the West has displayed since prehistoric times. The ancient Greeks who established colonies throughout the Mediterranean, the Macedonians who marched to “the ends of the world,” the Romans who created the greatest empire in history, the Franks who carved out Charlemagne’s Empire, and the Portuguese, were all similarly driven by an “irrepressible urge to distance.”
NO SOONER DID Columbus sight the “West Indies” in 1492, than one European explorer after another came forth eager for great deeds. By the 1520s, Europeans had explored the entire eastern coast of the two Americas from Labrador to Rio de la Plata. From 1519 to 1522 Ferdinand Magellan led the first successful attempt to circumnavigate the earth through the unimagined vastness of the Pacific Ocean. It has been said that Magellan’s energy and vision equaled that of Columbus; he “shared with his great predecessor the tenacity of a man driven by something deeper than common ambition.’24
Between 1519 and 1521 Hernán Cortés put himself at the command of an expedition that would result in the conquest of the Aztec Empire. These days many regard Cortés as something of a criminal, and this is true. The campaigns he conducted against the Mexicans were graphically barbaric. At the same time, Cortés was a prototypical Western aristocrat, or, as described by his secretary, a man “restless, haughty, mischievous, and given to quarrelling.’25 The running story on Cortés today is that if he had not conquered Mexico someone else would have. The real agents were the guns, the steel swords, the horses, and the germs. Without denying any of these factors, I agree with Buddy Levy’s recent portrayal of Cortés as a man who displayed, again and again, an extraordinary combination of leadership, tenacity, diplomacy, and tactical skill. Finding gold was a priority for Cortés and his men, but, as Cortés’s impassioned speeches and the character descriptions of his contemporaries both testify, he was above all a man driven by an “insatiable thirst for glory and authority;” “he thinks nothing of dying himself, and less of our death.”26 A similar account can be given of Francisco Pizarro.
The same spirit that drove Cortés and Pizarro drove Luther in his uncompromising challenge to the papacy’s authority: “Here I stand, I cannot do otherwise.” It drove the “intense rivalry” that characterized the art of the Renaissance, among patrons, collectors, artists, and that culminated in the persons of Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, and Titian.27 It motivated Shakespeare to outdo Chaucer, creating more than 120 characters, “the most memorable personalities that have graced the theater – and the psyche – of the West.’28 Let us recall that the age of the conquistadores was Spain’s golden age; the age of El Greco, Velázquez, Calderón de la Barca, and Francisco López de Gómara; the time of Cervantes’s Don Quixote and the realist transformation of the chivalrous imagination, of Lope de Vega and the creation of a new literary style in the picaresque novel with its sympathetic story of thieves and vagabonds. This century saw, additionally, a veritable revolution in cartography. As early as 1507, the German cosmographer, Martin Waldseemüller, produced a map depicting a coastline from Newfoundland to Argentina, and showed the two American continents clearly separated from Asia.
IN THE FACE of a list of rather ordinary human motivations, such as the motivation to acquire wealth and conquer new lands, it is very difficult to ascertain the Faustian character of the explorers, extract its essential nature, and apprehend it for itself. I want to suggest, even so, that the history of exploration during and after the Enlightenment era offers us an opportunity to apprehend clearly this soul. For it is the case that, from about the 1700s onward, explorers come to be increasingly driven by a will to discover irrespective of the pursuit of trade, religious conversion, or even scientific curiosity. My point is not that the unadulterated desire to explore exhibits the Faustian soul as such. The urge to accumulate wealth and advance knowledge may exhibit this Faustian will just as intensively. The difference is that in the desire to explore for its own sake we can see the West’s psyche striving to surpass the mundane preoccupations of ordinary life, comfort and liberal pleasantries, proving what it means to be a man of noble character.
The minimization of any substantial differences among humans cultivated by the modern model of human nature has clouded our ability to apprehend this Faustian desire. The original outlook of Locke and French Enlightenment thinkers, themselves the product of the persistent Western quest to interpret the world anew, fostered a democratic model wherein humans came to be seen as indeterminate and more or less equal, a “white paper,” a malleable being determined by outside circumstances, tradition-less and culture-less. This egalitarian view was nurtured as well in the philosophy of Descartes, Leibnitz, and Kant, with its emphasis on the innate and equally a priori cognitive capacities of humans qua humans.
It should come as no surprise, then, that historians (and psychologists) write of human passions and motivations as essentially alike across all cultures. In our subject of inquiry, exploration, we are normally told that “the desire to penetrate and explore the world’s wild places is a fundamental human impulse.” Frank Debenham’s Discovery and Exploration, a broad survey published in 1960, informs us that “man’s natural inquisitiveness has been a mainspring of discovery and exploration.”29 Yet, much of Debenham’s book is about modern Europeans exploring the world. There is an appendix that lists a total of 203 famous explorers, of which only eight are non-Western.30
Likewise, Fernández-Armesto’s book Pathfinders is described as “a study of humankind’s restless spirit,” but once he reaches the period after the 1500s, he has no explorers outside the West to write about. This may explain why he becomes disparaging toward European explorers, particularly those who came after the 1700s, describing them (David Livingstone, Henry Morton Stanley, Roald Amundsen, and others) as “failures,” “naïve,” “bombastic,” “mendacious,” “useless,” and “incompetent.”31
My view is the opposite: the history of exploration provides us with a profoundly revealing index of Western heroic self-fashioning. There is much to be learned about the uniqueness of the West in the life experiences and the motivations driving such men as Captain Cook. During the course of his legendary three Pacific journeys between 1768 and 1779, it is said that he explored more of the earth’s surface than any other man in history. His methods were said to be “practical and humane,” and yet he was also a heroic figure, filled with a zeal for greatness. In his own words, what he wanted above all else was the “pleasure of being first;” to sail “not only farther than man has been before me but as far as I think it possible for man to go.”32
Fernández-Armesto is highly critical of Robert Falcon Scott’s somber expressions of boldness, risk, duty, and resolve during the last days of his tragic expedition to the South Pole in 1911-12. Max Jones offers a far more incisive assessment of the significance of Scott, less as a “great” explorer than as someone who “composed the most haunting journal in the history of exploration.’33 Jones extols the captivating drama of the journals, the mounting tension and ever present anxiety as the ship battles to reach the Antarctica coast, and the epic-like account of the relentless march to the Pole. Jones situates Scott within a wider cultural setting: his immersion in polar literature, his awareness of characters in major novels who sought to prove themselves, his copy of Darwin’s Origins of Species and Scott’s “bleak vision of the universe as a struggle for existence,” the literary influences of Ibsen and Thomas Hardy and their fascination with the dependency of the human will on the indifferent power of nature and necessity.
Overall, the pervading idea of the journals is the heroic vision of exploration as a test of individual worthiness and national character. From his early manhood, Scott was filled with anxiety and doubts about his adequacy in life’s struggles: “I write of the future; of the hopes of being more worthy; but shall I ever be – can I alone, poor weak wretch that I am bear up against it all.”34 Expedition narratives through the nineteenth century, Jones observes, became ever more focus on the character of the explorer than on the economic externalities, so exploration became an inner journey, “a journey into the self, nowhere more so than in the emptiest of continents, Antarctica.’35 Scott understood this: “Here the outward show is nothing; it is the inward purpose that counts.” There was nothing to see in the center of Antarctica except the reflection of the inner Western quest to face the struggle of life in a heroic fashion.
♦
Ricardo Duchesne is professor at the University of New Brunswick, Department of Social Science, Saint John, Canada. He is the author of The Uniqueness of Western Civilization (2011). [US Amazon link.]
This article was revised 8 October 2012 to correct an editing error.
NOTES:
- Judith Shulevitz, “‘Human Accomplishment:’ the Best and the Brightest,” The New York Times, 30 November 2003. ↩
- Charles Murray, Human Accomplishment, The Pursuit of Excellence in the Arts and Sciences 800 BC to 1950 (New York: HarperCollins Publishing Inc, 2003), 252-259. ↩
- David Gress, From Plato to NATO, The Idea of the West and Its Opponents (The Free Press, 1996). ↩
- Norman Davies, A History of Europe (New York: Random House, 1997), 28. ↩
- Davies, 15-16. ↩
- Oswald Spengler, The Decline of the West: I: Form and Actuality, translated by Charles Francis Atkinson (New York: Alfred Knopf, 1973), 183-216. ↩
- John Farrenkopf, Prophet of Decline: Spengler on World History and Politics (Louisiana State University Press, 2001), 46. ↩
- Ibid. ↩
- G.W.F. Hegel, Philosophy of Mind. Being Part Three of the Encyclopedia of the Philosophical Sciences, translated by William Wallace (Oxford University Press, 1971), 45. ↩
- A.G. Woodhead, The Greeks in the West (New York: Praeger, 1966), 32-33. Robin Lane Fox’s Travelling Heroes: Greeks and The Epic Age of Homer (Allen Lane, 2008), deals with how their travels from one end of their world to the other shaped the Greeks’ myth, heroes, and gods. ↩
- For an up-to-date review of the Greek explorations of the Atlantic world, including a chapter on Roman expeditions to the North Sea, see Duane Roller’s Through the Pillars of Herakles: Greco-Roman Exploration of the Atlantic (Routledge, 2006). ↩
- Rome is not known to have carried as many explorations as the Greeks; still, it should be noted that the Romans penetrated deeper into Africa than any European power until well into the nineteenth century; see L. P Kirwan, “Rome Beyond The Southern Egyptian Frontier,” The Geographical Journal, (123.1: 1957). ↩
- Decline of the West, 332. ↩
- Jesse Byock, Viking Age Iceland (Penguin Books, 2001). ↩
- Peter Whitfield, New Found Lands. Maps in the History of Exploration (New York: Routledge, 1998), 18. ↩
- The Vinland Sagas, The Norse Discovery of America, translated with an introduction by Magnus Magnusson and Hermann Palsson (Penguin Books, 1965). ↩
- Daniel Boorstin, The Discoverers (Vintage Books, 1985), 121. ↩
- John Larner, Marco Polo and the Discovery of the World (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1999). ↩
- Decline of the West, 333. ↩
- Pathfinders, A Global History (New York: Norton, 2006), 109-117. ↩
- Ibid. ↩
- Joseph Needham, The Shorter Science and Civilization in China, Volume 3: A Section of Volume IV, Part I and a Section of Volume IV, Part 3 of Needham’s Original Text (Cambridge University Press, 1995), 141. ↩
- Pathfinders, 145. ↩
- Whitfield, 93. ↩
- Buddy Levy, Conquistador, Hernan Cortes, King Montezuma, and the Last Stand of the Aztecs (Bantam Books, 2009), 3. ↩
- Levy, 203. ↩
- See Rona Goffe’s, Renaissance Rivals (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004), for an account of the passionate strivings of the greatest artists of the Renaissance to outdo both living competitors and the masters of antiquity. ↩
- Frank Dumont, A History of Personality Psychology (Cambridge University Press, 2010), 20. ↩
- Frank Debenham, Discovery and Exploration (London: Paul Hamlyn, 1960), 6. ↩
- The same line of reasoning occupies Piers Pennington’s The Great Explorers (London: Aldus Books, 1979): “this book tells the story of the world’s great adventures into the unknown,” yet the fifty-plus explorers listed are from the Occident. See also The Discoverers: An Encyclopedia of Explorers and Exploration, ed. Helen Delpar (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1980). ↩
- Pathfinders, 394. ↩
- Cited in Hanbury-Tenison, ed., The Oxford Book of Exploration (Oxford University Press, 1993), 490-3. This book is an anthology of writings by explorers. ↩
- Max Jones, “Introduction” in Robert Falcon Scott’s Journals: Captain Scott’s Last Expedition (Oxford University Press), xvii. ↩
- Ibid., xix. ↩
- Ibid, xxxiv-xxxv. ↩
Soulignons également que l’époque antique est celle où les dieux étaient les garants de l'harmonie du cosmos. Ils interviennent par ailleurs dans les rêves des hommes pour leur délivrer des messages. A plusieurs reprises, Athéna intervient dans les songes d’Ulysse pour le guider. 
Or, le feu et le rêve appartiennent au même monde. Ils partagent les mêmes propriétés peu à l’aise avec celles de ce monde. Le rêve est comme le feu, immatériel, fluctuant, instable, prompte à retourner dans son monde nocturne. 
Poussée par force nostalgie, l’humanité est parvenue à se hisser dans l’espace. L’homme a marché sur la lune, escale retour d’un aller métaphorique vers la planète terre, vers le plan matériel, dont la mémoire s’est perdue. Vu sous cet angle, la conquête de l’Espace n'est qu’une manifestation de la nostagie profonde qui habite l’homme.
A travers ces exemples, on est saisi par l'idée qu'un immense et implacable dispositif concerté a visé, depuis des temps immémoriaux (serait-ce même la pente de l'Histoire ?), a assécher l'imaginaire des peuples par un imaginaire de substitution. Ce dispositif est apparu historiquement avec le pouvoir centralisateur de l'Empire Romain, les Conciles, et devenu totalement incontrôlable par la suite, comme une machine planétaire devenue folle. Il poursuit aujourd'hui sa course folle avec la réplique de l'Empire qu'est l'Empire Américain, le Soft Power, le Nouvel Ordre Mondial qui contrôle à la fois le capitalisme avec sa technoscience destructrice de l'environnement et l'imaginaire de l'écologie et des médias.
The Decline of the West, I discovered, as neither a traditional history book or a dirge predicting the end of civilization as we know it. Instead, Spengler opened up vast and profound vistas of world cultures, often with startling insights like this:
Effectivement. Si « les doux hériteront de la Terre », il n’y a pas de place pour un effort humain vers l’infini, qui atteigne son but, et qui place l’Homme sur le même plan que Dieu. Si la douceur, l’humilité, l’« humble agneau de Dieu » est l’archétype fondateur d’une culture, alors bien sûr l’infini et l’inconnu ne pourront jamais être atteints. « Tu ne connaîtras pas » : il est étonnant de voir tout ce que nous avons réalisé en dépit de cela, et ces remarquables réalisations occidentales sont survenues – pas par hasard – principalement pendant les périodes automnale et hivernale de la Haute Culture faustienne. C’est seulement quand les contraintes imposées par la culture à définition chrétienne se sont dissipées dans une large mesure que l’acceptation a priori de l’échec s’est affaiblie. Le problème est qu’avec une haute Culture décadente et mourante, cette émancipation (partielle) vis-à-vis du culte de l’humilité ne mènera nulle part. Seule une nouvelle Haute Culture bâtie sur le concept fondamental de la transcendance humaine, et sur la conquête de l’infini et de l’inconnu, permettra à l’Homme Occidental d’accomplir son destin. Les ruines croulantes de la Haute Culture précédente peuvent servir de blocs de construction pour le futur, c’est certain, elles peuvent fournir une inspiration, certainement, et être une source de fierté, c’est sûr. Mais nous devons regarder vers le Futur, et non pas monter la garde auprès d’un Passé mourant ou mort, comme le soldat romain de Spengler.
È un grande giurista del diritto pubblico e del diritto internazionale, che ha avuto il dono di un pensiero veramente radicale, e la sorte di vivere in un secolo di drammatici sconvolgimenti intellettuali, istituzionali e sociali. Ciò ne ha fatto anche un grande filosofo e un grande scienziato della politica; e lo ha esposto a grandi sfide e a grandi errori.
Schmitt pensa – e lo spiega in tutta la sua produzione internazionalistica, dal 1926 al 1978 – che ogni universalismo e ogni negazione della originarietà del nemico siano un modo indiretto per far passare una inimicizia potentissima moralisticamente travestita, per generare guerre discriminatorie. Per ogni universalismo chi vi si oppone è un nemico non concreto e reale ma dell’umanità: un mostro da eliminare. Perché ci sia pace ci deve essere la possibilità concreta del nemico, non la sua criminalizzazione, secondo Schmitt.
Carl Schmitt si è spento nel 1985 a Plettenberg in Westfalia alla veneranda età di 97 anni. Ciò significa che il suo sguardo non supera la «cortina di ferro» e si estende solo alla realtà della guerra fredda. Anche durante questo delicato periodo Schmitt ha continuato la sua attività di studioso e attento indagatore delle questioni di diritto internazionale dei suoi anni. Si espresse quindi sul dualismo USA-URSS, vedendo in esso una tensione verso l’unità del mondo nel segno della tecnica che avrebbe sancito l’egemonia universale di un «Unico padrone del mondo». Superando il 1989, e guardando al presente, possiamo dire che gli Stati Uniti dopo il ’91 hanno definitivamente preso scettro e globo in mano? L’American way of life è il futuro o il passato? Già Alexandre Kojève, per esempio, parlava di un nuovo attore politico e culturale e di una possibile «giapponizzazione dell’occidente».
La grande questione dello Schmitt del secondo dopoguerra, concentrato su questioni di diritto internazionale, è l’urgenza di un «nuovo nomos della terra» che supplisca ai terribili sviluppi della dissoluzione dello jus publicum europaeum. Porsi il problema di un nuovo nomos significa considerare la terra come un tutto, un globo, e cercarne la suddivisione e l’ordinamento globali. Ciò sarebbe possibile solo trovando nuovi elementi di equilibrio tra le grandi potenze e superando le criminalizzazioni che hanno contraddistinto i conflitti bellici nel ’900. A scompaginare il vecchio bilanciamento tra terra e mare, di cui l’Inghilterra, potenza oceanica, si fece garante nel periodo dello jus publicum europaeum, si aggiunge, però, una nuova dimensione spaziale: l’aria. L’aria non è solo l’aereo, che sovverte le distinzioni «classiche» di «guerre en forme» terrestre e guerra di preda marittima, ma è anche lo spazio «fluido-gassoso» della Rete. Grazie ai nuovi sviluppi della politica nel mondo si rende sempre più evidente come l’era del digitale non apra solamente nuove possibilità (e nuovi problemi) per l’informazione e la comunicazione, ma si configuri, nella grande epopea degli uomini e della Terra, come l’ultima, grande, rivoluzione spaziale-globale. Come possono rispondere le categorie del nomos di Carl Schmitt al nuevo mundo del digitale?
Tout ce qui a été craint par les esprits les plus affûtés du XIXe siècle est arrivé à la France, mais amplifié au centuple ! Ils se plaignaient du fléchissement intellectuel de leur siècle ? Mais celui-ci avait encore ses Lamartine, ses Auguste Comte, ses Proudhon, ses Verlaine et ses Stendhal ! Aujourd’hui, nous n’avons plus que des Badinter, des Attali, des Luc Ferry ou des BHL ! Ils se plaignaient de la diminution du nombre de naissances en France ? Mais aujourd’hui, les naissances françaises sont directement remplacées par des naissances étrangères ! Ils se plaignaient de l’état moral de la France ? Mais aujourd’hui le sens moral se vautre dans le transsexualisme, l’idéologie LGBTQ, le féminisme, l’idéologie du genre, l’idéologie « no-child » et la stigmatisation de « l’homme blanc hétérosexuel de plus de 50 ans » ! Ils craignaient que l’on fabrique un jour des Français de papier ? Mais aujourd’hui ces Français de papier se comptent par millions et font la loi ! 
Ainsi, la paix est un idéal, et en tant que telle, comme l’espérance d’Epiméthée, elle mérite nos efforts plus que nos ricanements. Il est juste que nous fassions tout pour faire advenir une paix lucide, sachant bien qu’elle ne parviendra jamais à réalisation. En ce sens, l’aspiration à la société cosmopolite est une aspiration morale naturelle à l’humanité, et vouloir récuser cette aspiration au nom de la permanence des conflits serait vouloir retirer à l’homme la moitié de sa condition. En revanche, prétendre atteindre la société cosmopolite comme un programme, à travers la politique, serait susciter un mélange préjudiciable de la morale et de la politique. Parce que nous sommes des créatures politiques, nous devons savoir que la paix universelle n’est qu’un idéal et non une possibilité de réalisation. Parce que nous sommes des créatures morales, nous ne pouvons nous contenter benoîtement des conflits sans espérer jamais les réduire au maximum. Le « règne des fins » ne doit pas aller jusqu’à constituer une eschatologie politique (qui existe aussi bien dans le libéralisme que dans le marxisme, et que l’on trouve au XIX° siècle jusque chez Proudhon), parce qu’alors il suscite une sorte de crase dommageable et irréaliste entre la politique et la morale. Mais l’espérance du bien ne constitue pas seulement une sorte d’exutoire pour un homme malheureux parce qu’englué dans les exigences triviales d’un monde conflictuel : elle engage l’humanité à avancer sans cesse vers son idéal, et par là à améliorer son monde dans le sens qui lui paraît le meilleur, même si elle ne parvient jamais à réalisation complète.
D’abord instituteur pour pallier la disparition brutale de son père, le germanophone Julien Freund se retrouve otage des Allemands en juillet 1940 avant de poursuivre ses études à l’Université de Strasbourg repliée à Clermond-Ferrand. Il entre dès janvier 1941 en résistance dans le réseau Libération, puis dans les Groupes francs de combat de Jacques Renouvin. Arrêté en juin 1942, il est détenu dans la forteresse de Sisteron d’où il s’évade deux ans plus tard. Il rejoint alors un maquis FTP (Francs-tireurs et partisans) de la Drôme. Il y découvre l’endoctrinement communiste et la bassesse humaine.
La politique se fait sur le terrain, et non dans les divagations spéculatives (p. 13). » Il relève dans son étude remarquable sur la notion de décadence que « si les civilisations ne se valent pas, c’est que chacune repose sur une hiérarchie des valeurs qui lui est propre et qui est la résultante d’options plus ou moins conscientes concernant les investissements capables de stimuler leur énergie. Cette hiérarchie conditionne donc l’originalité de chaque civilisation. Reniant leur passé, les Européens se sont laissés imposer, par leurs intellectuels, l’idée que leur civilisation n’était sous aucun rapport supérieure aux autres et même qu’ils devraient battre leur coulpe pour avoir inventé le capitalisme, l’impérialisme, la bombe thermonucléaire, etc. Une fausse interprétation de la notion de tolérance a largement contribué à cette culpabilisation. En effet, ni les idées, ni les valeurs ne sont tolérantes. Refusant de reconnaître leur originalité, les Européens n’adhèrent plus aux valeurs dont ils sont porteurs, de sorte qu’ils sont en train de perdre l’esprit de leur culture et le dynamisme qui en découle. Si encore ils ne faisaient que récuser leurs philosophies du passé, mais ils sont en train d’étouffer le sens de la philosophie qu’ils ont développée durant des siècles. La confusion des valeurs et la crise spirituelle qui en est la conséquence en sont le pitoyable témoignage. L’égalitarisme ambiant les conduit jusqu’à oublier que la hiérarchie est consubstantielle à l’idée même de valeur (p. 364) ».
De l’œuvre proprement juridique du jeune Carl Schmitt, disons de celle d’avant 1933, nous possédons en français Théorie de la constitution (1928, PUF 1993), La valeur de l’État et la signification de l’individu (1914, Droz 2003), mais il nous manquait jusqu’aujourd’hui un petit ouvrage de 1912 intitulé Loi et jugement, qu’Olivier Beaud, dans sa préface à l’édition française de Théorie de la constitution, qualifie de « véritable recherche de théorie du droit abordant les questions les plus fondamentales ».
R. R. Reno
On parle de grand remplacement. Comme je l’ai montré avec Don Siegel et ses gentils profanateurs, il s’agit surtout d’un remplacement moral et spirituel. Mais il y a aussi le grand déplacement, qui ne date pas d’hier (voyez mon texte sur Baudelaire et la conspiration géographique). Dans n’importe quel bled la moitié des gens viennent d’ailleurs. Debord :
J’évoque souvent le problème du logement qui m’a contraint à l’exil. Debord en parle souvent et il cite le jeune Marx. D’un ton magnifique et eschatologique, Marx écrit à la même époque que Tocqueville sur ce logement devenu impossible :
Sourcé et documenté, mais en même temps décapant sans concessions et affranchi de tous les conventionnalismes, ce livre atypique sort résolument des sentiers battus de l’histoire des idées politiques. Son auteur, Dalmacio Negro Pavón, politologue renommé dans le monde hispanique, est au nombre de ceux qui incarnent le mieux la tradition académique européenne, celle d’une époque où le politiquement correct n’avait pas encore fait ses ravages, et où la majorité des universitaires adhéraient avec conviction, – et non par opportunisme comme si souvent aujourd’hui -, aux valeurs scientifiques de rigueur, de probité et d’intégrité. Que nous dit-il ? Résumons-le en puisant largement dans ses analyses, ses propos et ses termes:
Une révolution a besoin de dirigeants, mais l’étatisme a infantilisé la conscience des Européens. Celle-ci a subi une telle contagion que l’émergence de véritables dirigeants est devenue quasiment impossible et que lorsqu’elle se produit, la méfiance empêche de les suivre. Mieux vaut donc, une fois parvenu à ce stade, faire confiance au hasard, à l’ennui ou à l’humour, autant de forces historiques majeures, auxquelles on n’accorde pas suffisamment d’attention parce qu’elles sont cachées derrière le paravent de l’enthousiasme progressiste.
Le réaliste authentique affirme que la finalité propre à la politique est le bien commun, mais il reconnait la nécessité vitale des finalités non politiques(le bonheur et la justice). La politique est selon lui au service de l’homme. La mission de la politique n’est pas de changer l’homme ou de le rendre meilleur (ce qui est le chemin des totalitarismes), mais d’organiser les conditions de la coexistence humaine, de mettre en forme la collectivité, d’assurer la concorde intérieure et la sécurité extérieure. Voilà pourquoi les conflits doivent être, selon lui, canalisés, réglementés, institutionnalisés et autant que possible résolus sans violence.
Cela étant, on peut être un sceptique ou un pessimiste lucide mais refuser pour autant de désespérer. On ne peut pas éliminer les oligarchies. Soit ! Mais, comme nous le dit Dalmacio Negro Pavón, il y a des régimes politiques qui sont plus ou moins capables d’en mitiger les effets et de les contrôler. Le nœud de la question est d’empêcher que les détenteurs du pouvoir ne soient que de simples courroies de transmission des intérêts, des désirs et des sentiments de l’oligarchie politique, sociale, économique et culturelle. Les hommes craignent toujours le pouvoir auquel ils sont soumis, mais le pouvoir qui les soumet craint lui aussi toujours la collectivité sur laquelle il règne. Et il existe une condition essentielle pour que la démocratie politique soit possible et que sa corruption devienne beaucoup plus difficile sinon impossible, souligne encore Dalmacio Negro Pavón. Il faut que l’attitude à l’égard du gouvernement soit toujours méfiante, même lorsqu’il s’agit d’amis ou de personnes pour lesquelles on a voté. Bertrand de Jouvenel disait à ce propos très justement: « le gouvernement des amis est la manière barbare de gouverner ».
La période qui s’étend du IIIe siècle de l’ère chrétienne au VIe, ce qu’il est convenu d’appeler, depuis les débuts de l’Âge moderne, le passage de l’Antiquité gréco-romaine au Moyen Âge (ou Âges gothiques), fait l’objet, depuis quelques années, d’un intérêt de plus en plus marqué de la part de spécialistes, mais aussi d’amateurs animés par la curiosité des choses rares, ou poussés par des besoins plus impérieux. De nombreux ouvrages ont contribué à jeter des lueurs instructives sur un moment de notre histoire qui avait été négligée, voire méprisée par les historiens. Ainsi avons-nous pu bénéficier, à la suite des travaux d’un Henri-Irénée Marrou, qui avait en son temps réhabilité cette époque prétendument « décadente », des analyses érudites et perspicaces de Pierre Hadot, de Lucien Jerphagnon, de Ramsay MacMullen, de Christopher Gérard et d’autres, tandis que les ouvrages indispensable, sur la résistance païenne, de Pierre de Labriolle et d’Alain de Benoist étaient réédités. Polymnia Athanassiadi, professeur d’histoire ancienne à l’Université d’Athènes, a publié, en 2006, aux éditions Les Belles Lettres, une recherche très instructive, La Lutte pour l’orthodoxie dans le platonisme tardif, que je vais essayer de commenter.
Pendant ces temps très troublés, où l’Empire accuse les assauts des Barbares, s’engage dans un combat sans merci avec l’ennemi héréditaire parthe, où le centre du pouvoir est maintes fois disloqué, amenant des guerres civiles permanentes, où la religiosité orientale mine l’adhésion aux dieux ancestraux, l’hellénisme (qui est la pensée de ce que Paul Veyne nomme l’Empire gréco-romain) est sur la défensive. Il lui faut trouver une formule, une clé, pour sauver l’essentiel, la terre et le ciel de toujours. Nous savons maintenant que c’était un combat vain (en apparence), en tout cas voué à l’échec, dès lors que l’État allait, par un véritable putsch religieux, imposer le culte galiléen. Durant trois ou quatre siècles, la bataille se déroulerait, et le paganisme perdrait insensiblement du terrain. Puis on se réveillerait avec un autre ciel, une autre terre. Comme le montre bien Polymnia Athanassiadi, cette « révolution » se manifeste spectaculairement dans la relation qu’on cultive avec les morts : de la souillure, on passe à l’adulation, au culte, voire à l’idolâtrie des cadavres.
Que le monothéisme sémitique ait agi sur ce recentrement du divin sur lui-même, à sa plus simple unicité, cela est plus que probable, surtout dans cette Asie qui accueillait tous les brassages de populations et de doctrines, pour les déverser dans l’Empire. Néanmoins, il est faux de prétendre que le néoplatonisme fût une variante juive du platonisme. Il est au contraire l’aboutissement suprême de l’hellénisme mystique. Comme les Indiens, que Plotin ambitionnait de rejoindre en accompagnant en 238 l’expédition malheureuse de Gordien II contre le roi perse Chahpour, l’Un peut se concilier avec la pluralité. Jamblique place les dieux tout à côté de Dieu. Plus tard, au Ve siècle, Damascius, reprenant la théurgie de Jamblique et l’intellectualité de Plotin (IIIe siècle), concevra une voie populaire, rituelle et cultuelle, nécessairement plurielle, et une voie intellective, conçue pour une élite, quêtant l’union avec l’Un. Le pèlerinage, comme sur le mode chrétien, sera aussi pratiqué par les païens, dans certaines villes « saintes », pour chercher auprès des dieux le salut.
Polymnia Athanassiadi, professeur d’histoire ancienne à l’Université d’Athènes, spécialiste du platonisme tardif (le néoplatonisme) avait bousculé quelques certitudes, dans son ouvrage publié en 2006, « la lutte pour l’orthodoxie dans le platonisme tardif », en montrant que les structures de pensée dans l’Empire gréco-romain, dont l’aboutissement serait la suppression de toute possibilité discursive au sein de l’élite intellectuelle, étaient analogues chez les philosophes « païens » et les théologiens chrétiens. Cette osmose, à laquelle il était impossible d’échapper, se retrouve au niveau des structures politiques et administratives, avant et après Constantin. L’État « païen », selon Mme Athanassiadi, prépare l’État chrétien, et le contrôle total de la société, des corps et des esprits. C’est la thèse contenue dans une étude éditée en 2010, Vers la pensée unique. La montée de l’intolérance dans l’Antiquité tardive.
Polymnia Athanassiadi rappelle les influences qui ont pu marquer cette conception positive : elle a été élaborée durant une époque où la détente d’après-guerre devenait possible, où l’individualisme se répandait, avec l’hédonisme qui l’accompagne inévitablement, où le pacifisme devient, à la fin années soixante, la pensée obligée de l’élite. De ce fait, les conflits sont minimisés.
Notons que Julien, le restaurateur du paganisme d’État, est mis sur le même plan que Constantin et que ses successeurs chrétien. En voulant créer une « Église païenne », en se mêlant de théologie, en édictant des règles de piété et de moralité, en excluant épicuriens, sceptiques et cyniques, il a consolidé la cohérence théologico-autoritaire de l’Empire. Il assumait de ce fait la charge sacrale dont l’empereur était dépositaire, singulièrement la dynastie dont il était l’héritier et le continuateur. Il avait conscience d’appartenir à une famille, fondée par Claude le Gothique (268 – 270), selon lui dépositaire d’une mission de jonction entre l’ici-bas et le divin.
En 1991, dans sa très pointue Guerre du Golfe qui n’a pas eu lieu, Baudrillard se lâchait en fin de texte. Je retraduis de la version espagnole :
Le déterminisme peut être également psychologique, en l’occurrence génétique: on ne choisit pas son corps et les caractères transmis par l’hérédité. Certains sont dits récessifs (vous les portez en vous, ils ne sont pas visibles directement, mais se manifesteront dans votre descendance), d’autres dominants (on les voit tout de suite en vous: couleur d’yeux, de cheveux, sexe, tendance au poids ou à la maigreur, à la grandeur ou à la petitesse, prédisposition à certaines maladies – cancers, hypertension, hypercholestérolémie, etc., ou héritage de maladies -diabète, hémophilie, etc.). Qui reprocherait à un adulte de développer un cancer de forte nature héréditaire? De la même manière nous échoient un tempérament sexuel ou une santé spécifique.
On va relire le sociologue israélo-britannique Zygmunt Bauman, auteur de remarquables essais sur notre postmoderne et zombi mondialisation. Il a bien compris que la clé c’est la peur et son exploitation (on est en 2002) :
Bauman ici explique pourquoi on croule sous d’horribles et coûteuses voitures informelles. Cela correspond à la paranoïa du « « capitalisme de catastrophe » (Ramonet) :
Il est important de rappeler cela, qu’il s’agisse de Sarkozy-Macron-Hollande, de Bush, May, Clinton-Obama, Merkel et du reste ; l’Etat fasciste-sécuritaire accompagne la dégradation-extinction de l’Etat de droit et de l’État social. L’État renonce à la carotte et a recours à la trique du CRS et au contrôle par des services plus ou moins secrets :
On a tous vu la nullité brouillonne des forces du désordre à Strasbourg. Mais ce chaos fait partie de la mise en scène, et Bauman vous l’explique :