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A review by skylarh
Eugenics and Other Evils: An Argument Against the Scientifically Organized State by G.K. Chesterton
4.0
Chesterton began this book in the 1910’s, before eugenics realized its full horror in the holocaust, but it is a disturbingly prophetic and surprisingly poignant book even in our own day. What makes this book so arresting is that it is about far more than eugenics: it is about how evil succeeds subtly, about politics, and about economics.
Especially interesting was Chesterton's categorization of the four types of defenders of eugenics, because these categories can apply to the defenders of a great many social policies, past and present, and they describe well the various kinds of insufficient arguments used in political discourse. There are the Euphemists, who do not call a policy by its real name or speak of it in blunt language, but use scientific terminology and much verbosity to disguise its more disturbing ramifications. (“I mean merely that short words startle them, while long words soothe them. And they are utterly incapable of translating the one into the other, however obviously they mean the same thing. Say to them ‘The persuasive and even coercive powers of the citizen should enable him to make sure that the burden of longevity in the previous generation does not become disproportionate and intolerable,…’; say this to them and they will sway slightly to and fro like babies sent to sleep in cradles. Say to them, ‘Murder your mother,’ and they sit up quite suddenly. Yet the two sentences, in cold logic, are exactly the same.”) Then there are the Casuists, who equate their more disturbing policies with much more limited policies and suggest that if you permit the one, you must concede the other. (“Suppose I say, ‘I dislike this spread of Cannibalism in the West End restaurants.’ Somebody is sure to say, ‘Well, after all, Queen Eleanor when she sucked blood from her husband’s arm was a cannibal.’ What is one to say to such people? One can only say, ‘Confine yourself to sucking poisoned blood from people’s arms, and I permit you to call yourself by the glorious title of Cannibal.’”) Next are the Autocrats, who trust that their proposed reforms will, despite all possible concerns, work out okay, because they’ll be there to make sure they work out okay. (“Where they will be, and for how long, they do not explain very clearly…And these people most certainly propose to be responsible for a whole movement after it has left their hands.”) Then there are the Endeavourers, who optimistically rely on their honest attempts to deal with a problem, without bothering to determine what the effects of their policies will be. (“[T:]he best thing the honest Endeavourer could do would be to make an honest attempt to know what he is doing. And not to do anything else until he has found out.”) Finally, there is a category “so hopeless and futile” that Chesterton says he cannot think of a name for them. “But whenever anyone attempts to argue rationally for or against any existent and recognizable thing, such as [a specific piece of:] legislation, there are always people who begin to chop hay about Socialism and Individualism; and say, ‘YOU object to all State interference…’” But, Chesterton insists, “I am not going to be turned from the discussion of that direct issue to bottomless botherations about Socialism and Individualism, or the relative advantages of always turning to the right and always turning to the left.”
Chesterton offers insight, too, into how tyranny develops, how “the excuse for the last oppression will always serve as well for the next oppression.” And he predicts a state that is on its way to arriving, and has, in small part, already arrived: “our civilization will find itself in an interesting situation, not without humour; in which the citizen is still supposed to wield imperial powers over the ends of the earth, but has admittedly no power over his own body and soul at all. He will still be consulted by politicians about whether opium is good for China-men, but not about whether ale is good for him. He will be cross-examined for his opinions about the danger of allowing Kamskatka to have a war-fleet, but not about allowing his own child to have a wooden sword.”
I credit Chesterton with partly revising my view of Socialism, which I have always seen as a system that, unlike Capitalism, does not take into account the fact of original sin (and therefore assumes that a redistribution of wealth could actually work without causing many to stop working altogether). While I still think socialism overlooks human motivations, and that, practically speaking, Capitalism makes better outcomes of a fallen world, I can now agree with Chesterton that Socialism is not actually (as I formerly believed) a system founded primarily on naïve optimism. “The Socialist system,” he writes, “in a more special sense than any other, is founded not on optimism but on original sin. It proposes that the State, as the conscience of the community, should possess all primary forms of property; and that obviously on the ground that men cannot be trusted to own or barter or combine or compete without injury to themselves. Just as a State might own all the guns lest people should shoot each other, so this State would own all the gold and land lest they should cheat or rackrent or exploit each other….it seems almost incredible that anybody ever thought it optimistic.” The problem, of course, is that the State too is composed of fallen men. Socialism and Capitalism are both, Chesterton argues, types of prisons, but at least in the prison of Capitalism, there is more chance of escape. “Capitalism is a corrupt prison. That is the best that can be said for Capitalism. But it is something to be said for it; for a man is a little freer in that corrupt prison than he would be in a complete prison. As a man can find one jailer more lax than another, so he could find one employer more kind than another; he has at least a choice of tyrants.” In a Socialist system, however, “he finds the same tyrant at every turn.”
In any event, we now have neither Socialism nor Capitalism, but a horrid compromise, which Chesterton describes well: “It may be said of Socialism, therefore, that its friends recommended it as increasing equality, while its foes resisted it as decreasing liberty….The compromise eventually made was one of the most interesting and even curious cases in history. It was decided to do everything that had ever been denounced in Socialism, and nothing that had ever been desired in it…we proceeded to prove that it was possible to sacrifice liberty without gaining equality….In short, people decided that it was impossible to achieve any of the good of Socialism, but they comforted themselves by achieving all the bad.”
Sometimes Chesterton requires great patience to follow. He will move from medieval planning to the American colonies to Shakespeare to the French War in a matter of pages, and one cannot help but wonder, “Where is this going? What does this have to do with the topic of his book?” But if you are patient, the connections do come, and they are often rewarding. And there is always wit sprinkled throughout his work; even while reading a volume on so serious and heavy a topic as “Eugenics and other evils,” I found myself laughing out loud.
Especially interesting was Chesterton's categorization of the four types of defenders of eugenics, because these categories can apply to the defenders of a great many social policies, past and present, and they describe well the various kinds of insufficient arguments used in political discourse. There are the Euphemists, who do not call a policy by its real name or speak of it in blunt language, but use scientific terminology and much verbosity to disguise its more disturbing ramifications. (“I mean merely that short words startle them, while long words soothe them. And they are utterly incapable of translating the one into the other, however obviously they mean the same thing. Say to them ‘The persuasive and even coercive powers of the citizen should enable him to make sure that the burden of longevity in the previous generation does not become disproportionate and intolerable,…’; say this to them and they will sway slightly to and fro like babies sent to sleep in cradles. Say to them, ‘Murder your mother,’ and they sit up quite suddenly. Yet the two sentences, in cold logic, are exactly the same.”) Then there are the Casuists, who equate their more disturbing policies with much more limited policies and suggest that if you permit the one, you must concede the other. (“Suppose I say, ‘I dislike this spread of Cannibalism in the West End restaurants.’ Somebody is sure to say, ‘Well, after all, Queen Eleanor when she sucked blood from her husband’s arm was a cannibal.’ What is one to say to such people? One can only say, ‘Confine yourself to sucking poisoned blood from people’s arms, and I permit you to call yourself by the glorious title of Cannibal.’”) Next are the Autocrats, who trust that their proposed reforms will, despite all possible concerns, work out okay, because they’ll be there to make sure they work out okay. (“Where they will be, and for how long, they do not explain very clearly…And these people most certainly propose to be responsible for a whole movement after it has left their hands.”) Then there are the Endeavourers, who optimistically rely on their honest attempts to deal with a problem, without bothering to determine what the effects of their policies will be. (“[T:]he best thing the honest Endeavourer could do would be to make an honest attempt to know what he is doing. And not to do anything else until he has found out.”) Finally, there is a category “so hopeless and futile” that Chesterton says he cannot think of a name for them. “But whenever anyone attempts to argue rationally for or against any existent and recognizable thing, such as [a specific piece of:] legislation, there are always people who begin to chop hay about Socialism and Individualism; and say, ‘YOU object to all State interference…’” But, Chesterton insists, “I am not going to be turned from the discussion of that direct issue to bottomless botherations about Socialism and Individualism, or the relative advantages of always turning to the right and always turning to the left.”
Chesterton offers insight, too, into how tyranny develops, how “the excuse for the last oppression will always serve as well for the next oppression.” And he predicts a state that is on its way to arriving, and has, in small part, already arrived: “our civilization will find itself in an interesting situation, not without humour; in which the citizen is still supposed to wield imperial powers over the ends of the earth, but has admittedly no power over his own body and soul at all. He will still be consulted by politicians about whether opium is good for China-men, but not about whether ale is good for him. He will be cross-examined for his opinions about the danger of allowing Kamskatka to have a war-fleet, but not about allowing his own child to have a wooden sword.”
I credit Chesterton with partly revising my view of Socialism, which I have always seen as a system that, unlike Capitalism, does not take into account the fact of original sin (and therefore assumes that a redistribution of wealth could actually work without causing many to stop working altogether). While I still think socialism overlooks human motivations, and that, practically speaking, Capitalism makes better outcomes of a fallen world, I can now agree with Chesterton that Socialism is not actually (as I formerly believed) a system founded primarily on naïve optimism. “The Socialist system,” he writes, “in a more special sense than any other, is founded not on optimism but on original sin. It proposes that the State, as the conscience of the community, should possess all primary forms of property; and that obviously on the ground that men cannot be trusted to own or barter or combine or compete without injury to themselves. Just as a State might own all the guns lest people should shoot each other, so this State would own all the gold and land lest they should cheat or rackrent or exploit each other….it seems almost incredible that anybody ever thought it optimistic.” The problem, of course, is that the State too is composed of fallen men. Socialism and Capitalism are both, Chesterton argues, types of prisons, but at least in the prison of Capitalism, there is more chance of escape. “Capitalism is a corrupt prison. That is the best that can be said for Capitalism. But it is something to be said for it; for a man is a little freer in that corrupt prison than he would be in a complete prison. As a man can find one jailer more lax than another, so he could find one employer more kind than another; he has at least a choice of tyrants.” In a Socialist system, however, “he finds the same tyrant at every turn.”
In any event, we now have neither Socialism nor Capitalism, but a horrid compromise, which Chesterton describes well: “It may be said of Socialism, therefore, that its friends recommended it as increasing equality, while its foes resisted it as decreasing liberty….The compromise eventually made was one of the most interesting and even curious cases in history. It was decided to do everything that had ever been denounced in Socialism, and nothing that had ever been desired in it…we proceeded to prove that it was possible to sacrifice liberty without gaining equality….In short, people decided that it was impossible to achieve any of the good of Socialism, but they comforted themselves by achieving all the bad.”
Sometimes Chesterton requires great patience to follow. He will move from medieval planning to the American colonies to Shakespeare to the French War in a matter of pages, and one cannot help but wonder, “Where is this going? What does this have to do with the topic of his book?” But if you are patient, the connections do come, and they are often rewarding. And there is always wit sprinkled throughout his work; even while reading a volume on so serious and heavy a topic as “Eugenics and other evils,” I found myself laughing out loud.