Chris
08-31-2014, 01:57 PM
Review of Popper's The Poverty of Historicism.
This work can be seen as a companion piece to Popper's The Logic of Scientific. Discovery. In the former he criticizes scientific method in order to establish a better approach to natural sciences, in the latter he does the same for social science. There are also touches of his thesis of The Open Society and Its Enemies in his criticism of the historicism of Plato, Hegel and Marx, here though his focus is mainly Marx. The title itself alludes to Proudhon's System of Economical Contradictions: or, The Philosophy of Poverty on market socialism, and Marx's criticism of it in The Poverty of Philosophy: Answer to the Philosophy of Poverty by M. Proudhon. Popper's criticism of historicism parallels that of Adam Smith's criticism of "man of system" found in The Theory of Moral Sentiments and FA Hayek's criticism of scienticism found in The Counter Revolution of Science: Studies on the Abuse of Reason.
As a taste of the writing and the criticism, here is a sample:
Historicism mistakes these interpretations for theories. This is one of its cardinal errors. It is possible, for example, to interpret 'history' as the history of class struggle, or of the struggle of races for supremacy, or as the history of religious ideas, or as the history of the struggle between the 'open' and the 'closed' society, or as the history of scientific and industrial progress. All these are more or less interesting points of view, and as such perfectly unobjectionable. But historicists do not present them as such; they do not see that there is necessarily a plurality of interpretations which are fundamentally on the same level of both, suggestiveness and arbitrariness (even though some of them may be distinguished by their fertiliy--a point of some importance). Instead, they present them as doctrines or theories, asserting that 'all history is the history of class struggle', etc. And if they actually find that their point of view is fertile, and that many facts can be ordered and interpreted in its light, then they mistake this for a confirmation, or even for a proof, of their doctrine.
On the other hand, the classical historians who rightly oppose this procedure are liable to fall into a different error. Aiming at objectivity, they feel bound to avoid any selective point of view; but since this is impossible, they usually adopt points of view without being aware of them. This must defeat their efforts to be objective, for one cannot possibly be critical of one's own approach, and conscious of its limitations, without being aware of it.
The way out of this dilemma, of course, is to be clear about the necessity of adopting a point of view; to state this point of view plainly, and always to remain conscious that it is one among many, and that even if it should amount to a theory, it may not be testable.
And another passage:
Comte and Mill, it will be remembered, held that progress was an unconditional or absolute trend, which is reducible to the laws of human nature. 'A law of succession,' writes Comte, 'even when indicated with all possible authority by the method of historical observation, ought not to be finally admitted before it has been rationally reduced to the positive theory of human nature . . .' He believes that the law of progress is deducible from a tendency in human individuals which impels them to perfect their nature more and more. In all this, Mill follows him completely, trying to reduce his law of progress to what he calls the 'progressiveness of the human mind' whose first 'impelling force . . . is the desire of increased material comforts'. According to both Comte and Mill the unconditional or absolute character of this trend or quasi-law enables us to deduce from it the first steps or phases of history, without requiring any initial historical conditions or observations or data. In principle, the whole course of history should be thus deducible; the only difficulty being, as Mill puts it, that 'so long a series . . ., each successive term being composed of an even greater number and variety of parts, could not possibly be computed by human faculties.'
The weakness of this 'reduction' of Mill's seems obvious. Even if we should grant Mill's premises and deductions, it still would not follow that the social or historical effect will be significant. Progress might be rendered negligible, say, by losses due to an unmanageable natural environment. Besides, the premises are based on only one side of 'human nature' without considering other sides such as forgetfulness or indolence. Thus where we observe the precise opposite of the progress described by Mill, there we can equally well 'reduce' these observations to 'human nature'. (Is it not, indeed, one of the most popular devices of so-called historical theories to explain the decline and fall of empires by such traits as idleness and a propensity to over-eat?) In fact we can conceive of very few events which could not be plausibly explained by an appeal to certain propensities of 'human nature'. But a method that can explain everything that might happen explains nothing.
If we wish to replace this surprisingly naïve theory by a more tenable one, we have to make two main alterations. First, we have to attempt to find conditions of progress, and to this end we must try to imagine, for example, conditions under which progress would be arrested. This immediately leads to the realization that a psychological propensity alone cannot be sufficient to explain progress, since conditions may be found on which it may depend. Thus we must, next, replace the theory of psychological propensities by something better; I suggest, by an institutional (and technological) analysis of the conditions of progress.
That is how much of the book goes: Lay out this or that methodological position of historicism, criticize it, and propose a better approach.
In general, while only about 150 pages, it's not an easy read but well worth it if you want some perspective on the many historicist proposals and predictions we see everyday in politics.
This work can be seen as a companion piece to Popper's The Logic of Scientific. Discovery. In the former he criticizes scientific method in order to establish a better approach to natural sciences, in the latter he does the same for social science. There are also touches of his thesis of The Open Society and Its Enemies in his criticism of the historicism of Plato, Hegel and Marx, here though his focus is mainly Marx. The title itself alludes to Proudhon's System of Economical Contradictions: or, The Philosophy of Poverty on market socialism, and Marx's criticism of it in The Poverty of Philosophy: Answer to the Philosophy of Poverty by M. Proudhon. Popper's criticism of historicism parallels that of Adam Smith's criticism of "man of system" found in The Theory of Moral Sentiments and FA Hayek's criticism of scienticism found in The Counter Revolution of Science: Studies on the Abuse of Reason.
As a taste of the writing and the criticism, here is a sample:
Historicism mistakes these interpretations for theories. This is one of its cardinal errors. It is possible, for example, to interpret 'history' as the history of class struggle, or of the struggle of races for supremacy, or as the history of religious ideas, or as the history of the struggle between the 'open' and the 'closed' society, or as the history of scientific and industrial progress. All these are more or less interesting points of view, and as such perfectly unobjectionable. But historicists do not present them as such; they do not see that there is necessarily a plurality of interpretations which are fundamentally on the same level of both, suggestiveness and arbitrariness (even though some of them may be distinguished by their fertiliy--a point of some importance). Instead, they present them as doctrines or theories, asserting that 'all history is the history of class struggle', etc. And if they actually find that their point of view is fertile, and that many facts can be ordered and interpreted in its light, then they mistake this for a confirmation, or even for a proof, of their doctrine.
On the other hand, the classical historians who rightly oppose this procedure are liable to fall into a different error. Aiming at objectivity, they feel bound to avoid any selective point of view; but since this is impossible, they usually adopt points of view without being aware of them. This must defeat their efforts to be objective, for one cannot possibly be critical of one's own approach, and conscious of its limitations, without being aware of it.
The way out of this dilemma, of course, is to be clear about the necessity of adopting a point of view; to state this point of view plainly, and always to remain conscious that it is one among many, and that even if it should amount to a theory, it may not be testable.
And another passage:
Comte and Mill, it will be remembered, held that progress was an unconditional or absolute trend, which is reducible to the laws of human nature. 'A law of succession,' writes Comte, 'even when indicated with all possible authority by the method of historical observation, ought not to be finally admitted before it has been rationally reduced to the positive theory of human nature . . .' He believes that the law of progress is deducible from a tendency in human individuals which impels them to perfect their nature more and more. In all this, Mill follows him completely, trying to reduce his law of progress to what he calls the 'progressiveness of the human mind' whose first 'impelling force . . . is the desire of increased material comforts'. According to both Comte and Mill the unconditional or absolute character of this trend or quasi-law enables us to deduce from it the first steps or phases of history, without requiring any initial historical conditions or observations or data. In principle, the whole course of history should be thus deducible; the only difficulty being, as Mill puts it, that 'so long a series . . ., each successive term being composed of an even greater number and variety of parts, could not possibly be computed by human faculties.'
The weakness of this 'reduction' of Mill's seems obvious. Even if we should grant Mill's premises and deductions, it still would not follow that the social or historical effect will be significant. Progress might be rendered negligible, say, by losses due to an unmanageable natural environment. Besides, the premises are based on only one side of 'human nature' without considering other sides such as forgetfulness or indolence. Thus where we observe the precise opposite of the progress described by Mill, there we can equally well 'reduce' these observations to 'human nature'. (Is it not, indeed, one of the most popular devices of so-called historical theories to explain the decline and fall of empires by such traits as idleness and a propensity to over-eat?) In fact we can conceive of very few events which could not be plausibly explained by an appeal to certain propensities of 'human nature'. But a method that can explain everything that might happen explains nothing.
If we wish to replace this surprisingly naïve theory by a more tenable one, we have to make two main alterations. First, we have to attempt to find conditions of progress, and to this end we must try to imagine, for example, conditions under which progress would be arrested. This immediately leads to the realization that a psychological propensity alone cannot be sufficient to explain progress, since conditions may be found on which it may depend. Thus we must, next, replace the theory of psychological propensities by something better; I suggest, by an institutional (and technological) analysis of the conditions of progress.
That is how much of the book goes: Lay out this or that methodological position of historicism, criticize it, and propose a better approach.
In general, while only about 150 pages, it's not an easy read but well worth it if you want some perspective on the many historicist proposals and predictions we see everyday in politics.