Ecurb wrote: ↑September 4th, 2021, 11:32 am
Neither people nor other mammals help others only for "mutual benefit". Female mammals routinely donate to their children scarce resources which they could use for themselves . They do not expect (nor do they receive) any tangible benefit in return.
Also, from a later post,
In civilizations -- as in tribal societies -- people often cooperate because of family ties. Kinship is complicated -- it involves both normative duties and empathetic affection. Nonetheless, it's silly to suggest that mothers (mammals) nurse their children, feed them, clothe them, change their diapers and care for them because " it is in the individual interests of each of them to do so." Yet the family is the most important economic and social relationship most of us maintain.
I didn't say people help others
only for mutual benefit. I said they
usually do, i.e., most cooperation in civilized societies is done for the mutual benefit of the cooperating parties.
Nor did I say or imply that "mothers (mammals) nurse their children, feed them, clothe them, change their diapers and care for them because it is in the individual interests of each of them to do so." I said people (usually)
cooperate out of self-interest. Maternal care is not "cooperation," as that term is commonly understood, there being no reciprocity from the child. It is, however, most certainly done (in most cases) from self-interest --- the welfare of the child being a priority interest of the mother. "Self-interest" is not limited to securing benefits for oneself; it extends to benefits to others if the welfare of those others is important to you.
Most examples of cooperation found in civilized societies are those which occur in a workplace. E.g., the workers on an automobile assembly line are cooperating to build cars; the cooks, waiters, maitre'ds, etc., in a restaurant are cooperating to prepare and deliver meals to customers; the carpenters, masons, electricians, plumbers on a construction crew are cooperating to build a house. All of those workers are working to earn a paycheck; they are not doing so pursuant to any acknowledged duty or sense of "social obligation," or because they have some emotional attachments to one another, or even because they have an interest in the products of their work. People
may cooperate for any of those latter reasons, but they are not the motives for most cooperation in civilized societies.
I'll agree that in small, tribal societies where everyone is related to everyone else, cooperation occurs more naturally. Nonetheless, although laws are neither written nor codified, the responsibilities of the societies' members are clear -- expressed in the mores of the society and sanctioned (positively and negatively) by its members. The hunter who kills an animal is expected to share the bounty with other members of the group -- just as the rich xecutive is expected to pay his taxes in civilized societies.
Well, I'm not sure cooperation occurs any more "naturally" in tribal societies, but what you say there is true for many of them (though not all). The features you mention distinguish tribal societies from civilized societies. Expecting members of the latter to behave like members of the former is the "organic fallacy," and that fallacy underlies all contemporary political ideologies and much political philosophy, from Plato to the present. I've outlined this fallacy in several other threads. Here is is again:
Homo sapiens, if the anthropologists are right, has been on Earth for about 200,000 years. Until the last 10,000 or so of those years, he lived in small tribal villages, consisting of a few dozen to a few hundred members — small enough that all of its members knew all of the others; indeed, had known each other all of their lives. They midwifed one another’s births, tended one another’s illnesses, shared one another’s possessions, and married one another’s cousins. They knew and trusted one another, and had dense, intimate relationships among one another. They needed no formal ethics nor any political structure to govern their affairs, simply because each was and had always been a part of every other’s life.
The organic model is a good approximation of the structure of such societies. But with the rise of civilization — societies characterized by cities — that model began to break down. People found themselves living in communities in which most of the people around them were strangers, with whom they had no familial or other personal ties, and often very little in common. People began to take notice of the differences among them — differences in coloration and bone structure, in choices of dress, in temperament and mannerisms, in interests and tastes, in the habits and practices of daily life, and eventually even in religion and language. They acquired individuality.
In tribal societies there is no free will, and no individuality. All the myriad choices we today are constantly obliged to make are prescribed by the tribe; they’re part of the tribal consciousness, codified in tribal tradition, the “folkways” of the tribe. How one dresses, what one eats, where one lives, how one earns a living, the choosing of mates, the Gods to be worshipped and the rituals for worshipping them, all the petty rules governing the tasks of daily life and the “standard methods” for performing them, are absorbed from the tribe, without question and without the need for thought.
There is no individuality to speak of in these groups because all members have known and interacted only with each other since birth, and they are locked into a resonance. There is no politics, no debate, no alternate point of view on any matter — and as a result, almost no innovation. Tribal cultures can remain all but static for thousands of years, with only a slight refinement in spear points to indicate any time has passed at all. Australian Aborigines, for example, when encountered by Europeans in the 18th century, were making didgeridoos indistinguishable from those made 2000 years earlier. In 40,000 years they never added another instrument to their musical technology.
That resonance, however, cannot be maintained in larger groups, because the required intimacy is impossible. The group becomes too large for everyone to know and interact constantly with everyone else; hence one soon finds oneself in the company of strangers — individuals with whom they’ve had no prior contact and whose habits, preferences, and beliefs cannot be predicted in advance. And because they’ve all been subject to different combinations of influences, they begin to differ in all the ways indicated above.
The breakdown of that resonance represented a huge transformation, not merely of the social structure, but of the human psyche. The traditional tribal control mechanisms, based on age and personal stature, gave way to formal systems of governance — politics. The tribesman’s intuitive sense of right and wrong, which derived primarily from his personal ties to and commonality with his fellows, gave way to formal systems of ethics. Indeed, ethics, like law, is a code for regulating behavior among strangers — among people who have no personal interest in one another’s welfare. As Jared Diamond pointed out in Guns, Germs, and Steel, “With the rise of chiefdoms around 7,500 years ago, people had to learn, for the first time in history, how to encounter strangers regularly without attempting to kill them.”
Every utopia conceived in the last 5000 years has been an attempt to recapture the tribal consciousness. The Garden of Eden story embodies this “fall from Grace” — the loss of mankind’s oneness with God and Nature, his “alienation,” his exile into a world of strife and temptation, where he seems to have free will and must constantly choose between good and evil, between this course of action or that, relying only on his own judgement, and must suffer the consequences when his judgments go awry.
All these laments of lost innocence and alienation are atavisms, psychic echoes of our tribal heritage, the social form honed over the course of our 3 million year primate history. All of our fellow primates still practice that form, and until the rise of civilization, so did all humans. It would be surprising were our brains not adapted to that social form. They have evolved syncronously with that form, and thus may be expected to function optimally in that environment, in many ways. So it is not surprising that we miss that form, or that we long to regain it. We are ducks out of water, trying to find our way back to the pond.
We remain “wired” for tribal life. We long for it, unattainable though it may be. And often we try to recreate or or substitute for it, by immersing ourselves in cults or joining in totalitarian movements. The cult seeks to insulate itself from the “society of strangers;” the totalitarian movement seeks to subdue it and impose a tribal-like conformity, a synthetic common identity and purpose — usually resulting in much bloodshed.
But civilized humans are individuated; they are no longer interchangeable instances or exemplars of a tribal identity, and cannot be forced into that mold. That individuality is what drives the dynamism of civilized societies; what enables it to change more in 100 years than tribal societies might in 10,000. It is what has permitted humans to overcome the famines, diseases, disasters, and other idiosyncrasies of Nature which beset them and all their primate cousins for millions of years, and to transform the natural world to better meet their needs and better satisfy their ever-evolving and proliferating desires.
What worked for pre-civilized societies never worked very well, and cannot work at all for the unrelated, individuated members of civilized societies. There is no longer a collective consciousness, and in communities of more than a few hundred members, not even any common goals. Modern societies are meta-communities — public venues for personal interactions. They provide opportunities for individuals to forge relationships with others, but supply no content for those relationships. They are like public playing fields; they offer space and seating, but each team brings its own gear, its own personnel, and its own game with its own rules. The house rules are few and general: “No reservations accepted: first-come, first served,” “Do not intrude on others’ games,” and “Pick up your litter.”
The organic society that continues to beckon from our long primate ancestry is lost to history. It is irrecoverable. Contemporary social theorists need to let it go, and craft theories applicable to societies and to persons as we find them today.
I'll further agree (I think) with Morton that there are certain moral principles which (although culturally constituted themselves) supercede the laws of the State. We all recognize potentially state sponsored activities which would lead us to withhold our tax dollars. However, most participants in this thread would not include food stamps, medicare, national healh care, or government supported housing among these activities.
Well, good to see that you acknowledge a basis for rights more fundamental than the decrees of the State. But what "most participants in this thread" believe is an
ad populum argument and thus fallacious.
Property exists only because of the laws of the state and its existence is enforced by the minions of the state. If we look at tribal societies (in which the concept of "property" is very different) we see the distinction. The dead animal is not the "property" of the hunter -- by custom it "belongs" to the group. Similarly, in civilized societies the money one earns belongs (in part) to the group. Everyone who pays his taxes must agree in principle. The group is NOT forcibly taking something from someone else; it is collecting its fair share, just as the children in the tribe partake of the meat.
Again, the organic fallacy. Civilized societies are not tribal societies, and are not "similar," in structure, customs, or the relationships among their members.
All laws (including both property laws and tax laws) are violent and coersive. If we agree that violent coersion is (ipso facto) a bad thing, we can agree that utopia must be an anarchy.
Violence and coercion are not
ipso facto bad things. They are sometimes justified. They are justified:
1. In order to resist infliction of harm or loss on oneself or another moral agent;
2. In order to prevent such infliction of harm or loss;
3. In order to secure restitution for the victims of unjustified infliction of harm or loss.