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i

A DEFENSE OF RULE
iii

A DEFENSE OF RULE
Origins of Political Thought in Greece
and India

Stuart Gray

1
1
Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers
the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education
by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University
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Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press

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© Oxford University Press 2017

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address above.

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CIP data is on file at the Library of Congress

ISBN 978–​0–​19–​063631–​9

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Printed by Sheridan Books, Inc., United States of America
v

CONTENTS

Preface vii
Acknowledgments xxv

Introduction: Historical-​Comparative Political Theory 1

1. Homer: Ruling as Distinction 21
2. Hesiod: Critique, Poetic Justice, and the Increasing
Anthropocentrism of Greek Rule 64
3. Vedic Political Thought: Hierarchy, Connectedness,
and Cosmology 105
4. Vedic Saṃhitās and Brāhmaṇas: Ruling as Stewardship 135
5. Comparative Considerations on the Meaning of Rule 175
Conclusion: Panocracy as a New Vision of Rule 193

Notes 223
References 243
Index 257
vii

P R E FA C E

Rethinking the Question and Meaning of Rule

What does it mean to rule? At the core of politics are relations of rule, and
thus at the heart of political theory is the question of what it means for human
beings to rule over one another and share in a process of ruling. Interestingly,
rule has also been one of the most criticized and even villainous of political
concepts in the history of political thought, which reasonably leads us to ask
the following question: if rule is so lamentable, then shouldn’t we attempt to
mitigate ruling relations as much as possible within political communities,
or perhaps try to eradicate such relations altogether? A central aim of this
book is to challenge this negative outlook and explain how rule need not be
understood as anathema to political life. Not only has it been one of the most
pervasive concepts in the global history of political thought, it is also a com-
plex and potentially inspiring activity in which all people, I will argue, partici-
pate throughout their daily lives—​and stand to do so in a more thoughtful
fashion. To advance this claim is to suggest that we must be willing to alter,
in a potentially destabilizing way, how we view the concept and reconsider its
prospective meaning. I will embark on this project of rethinking the meaning
of rule by undertaking two general tasks: first, to enhance the scope of our
historical perspective in the Western tradition, and second, to broaden our
cross-​cultural understanding of rule.
In the chapters that follow, I thus retrieve, and comparatively re-​examine,
two ancient conceptions of rule that offer fascinatingly different ways of
thinking about the concept and its attendant practices. In particular, I show
how a comparative encounter between archaic Greek and Vedic Indian tra-
ditions provides critical distance from some of our most familiar intuitions
about rule. This historical-​comparative trek then helps expand our political
imagination by supplying alternative ideas and outlooks that might serve as
resources for rethinking the meaning of rule. Consequently, I aim not only
v i i i   
• Preface

to investigate the earliest works of political thought in the Western tradition

but also to look for inspiration and provocation from outside political theo-
ry’s more familiar haunts. Here I find the earliest Indian tradition of political
thought to be particularly illuminating, as it throws into sharp relief some of
the most significant, long-​standing pitfalls in Western conceptions of rule.
In short, this book undertakes the task of rethinking the question of what
it means to rule and does so by considering what two incredibly influential
traditions in the global history of political thought might have to teach us.1
Specifically, the Vedic notion of rule can help us better understand our
relationship to nonhuman nature as non-​instrumental, and a central aim of
this book is to explain why human beings have a responsibility or duty to
act as stewards for the interests of various nonhuman beings. Here ancient
Indian political thought is invaluable because it shows us how the earliest
discernable—​and highly influential—​tradition of Greek thought conceives
a hierarchical and instrumental relationship between human and nonhuman
nature. This instrumental position tends to predominate in the contemporary
world and view the nonhuman as a mere resource for enhancing human desires
and comforts, thus privileging human interests at the expense of nonhuman
interests and well-​being. Such instrumental understandings of the nonhuman
world have gotten us into serious trouble in the modern and contemporary
period. One could cite numerous examples, including deforestation, global
warming, rising sea levels, species loss, and peak oil.
As is already evident in the early Greek understanding of rule, a serious
problem then arises: nonhuman beings such as animals and plants, let alone
entire ecosystems, cannot assert and defend their interests in propria persona.
This makes it quite difficult if not impossible to understand how we could take
account of nonhuman nature in our political decisions in a way that would
be significantly different than our current instrumental approach. An alterna-
tive to this overly hierarchical and instrumental conception of rule would be
to conceive nonhuman nature as having interests that human beings have a
responsibility or duty to account for in both their personal and political deci-
sions. As I will explain at greater length in this Preface and the Conclusion,
we must view ourselves as stewards and not simply consumers of the nonhu-
man world. Importantly, our conceptual vocabulary has room for this concep-
tion of stewardship between a human political agent and less capable agents
whose interests the full agent is obligated to consider when taking action that
affects them all: the concept of rule. Thus reinvigorating the concept of rule
seems like a uniquely available and promising way to reconceive of our rela-
tionship with nonhuman nature. Early Indian political thought helps us to
ix

Preface      •      ix

better understand how the Western tradition has a narrow conception of rule
that cannot solve the problem, as it continues to reassert the instrumental
understanding. I will argue that Vedic texts pose a different conception that
can help us reconceive the nature and meaning of rule in a non-​instrumental
fashion.2 To explain how this is the case, it is helpful to begin by unpacking
and theorizing what I take to be the various dimensions of rule.

The Multidimensionality of Rule and Ruling-​in

To start, the concept of rule has a long line of critics offering numerous rea-
sons to be skeptical of ruling relations in general. For example, most Western
political theorists have understood rule to mean hierarchical domination of
some people by others, often advancing a contrast between rule and politics,
with the latter implying some degree of reciprocity of interests and participa-
tion. Thus, for those such as Aristotle, a society in which a king governs in his
own interest is a corrupt form of rule while the term polis, and thus a truly
“political” society, is reserved for a system wherein citizens experience rough
equality and reciprocity by ruling and being ruled in turn. Although ruling
entails some people telling others what to do and commanding obedience,
Aristotle claims that rule can be turned into politics through an appropriate
constitution.
Modern thinkers such as Hannah Arendt follow some of these basic
distinctions by categorically parsing rule and politics, associating the more
inspiring concepts of equality and freedom with politics, and more trou-
bling concepts of hierarchy and domination with rule. Since Plato, Arendt
argues that the Western tradition of political philosophy has attempted to
escape the frailty and unpredictability of politics altogether, claiming: “The
hallmark of all such escapes is the concept of rule, that is, the notion that
men can lawfully and politically live together only when some are entitled
to command and the others forced to obey” (1998, 222).3 For Arendt, rule
stands in stark contrast to action, which is the phenomenological and con-
ceptual hinge for her political thought. Here I do not wish to dismiss entirely
Arendt’s laudable analysis of action, spontaneity, and natality in politics, nor
the positions of scholars who have been heavily influenced by Arendt and
her reading of Greek political thought.4 However, I would like to comment
on this position, since it aptly characterizes many modern and contemporary
arguments against rule.
First, politics entails making impactful decisions and does not merely
center on self-​display in a condition of plurality. Ruling, understood as
x   
• Preface

making authoritative decisions, enforcing these decisions, and considering

their implications does not appear to be something that human beings can rid
themselves of in any permanent way. Second, there is good reason to be skep-
tical of whether or not a non-​hierarchical politics, and thus a firm distinction
between rule and politics on Arendt’s own account, is even possible in the
first place. The act of distinguishing oneself from others—​which I examine
closely in c­ hapters 1 and 2—​may always begin with, depend upon, or result
in sociopolitical hierarchies of some sort.5 If we do not locate and pay special
attention to these hierarchies, and consider the interests of those who find
themselves subjected, this can easily lead to unjustified forms of domination.
To take a Greek example, while Aristotle argues that free and equal male cit-
izens of a polis should gather in a public space and act in a condition of plu-
rality, a necessary condition of this phenomenological act is the existence of
slaves and the hierarchical subordination of women. At least for Aristotle,
such politically active (male) citizens cannot have a purely horizontal space
that does not, in some constitutive sense, depend upon a vertical relationship
between themselves and non-​citizens. To rule and be ruled in turn, “archein
kai archestai,” is more complicated than it may initially appear. My first set of
critiques of the Arendtian position, along with those who would idealize rul-
ing with others, thus overlap with one another insofar as this idealization can
lead to over-​privileging the horizontal dimension of politics among equals
by simultaneously underemphasizing how ruling with others rests upon rul-
ing over others. Politics in any Arendtian sense relies on relations of rule, as
the house of politics is built on the stilts of rule, and her overly abstracted
conception of politics overlooks tremendously important, broader facets of
governance.
My second critical point about the idealization of ruling with others
concerns another category of “others” impacted by ruling over: the natural,
nonhuman world. Again, Arendt’s political thought provides a useful point
of engagement. For her, the realm of the oikos represents the realm of neces-
sity, which includes nonhuman nature, and part of the point of ruling over it
was that it was both incapable of self-​governance and a constant threat to the
fragile achievement of the polis.6 This suggests that rule is not merely inescap-
able in Arendt’s theory but in fact central to it: ruling over others pervades
politics, which includes ruling over the realm of necessity. Embedded in this
theory of politics, therefore, lies a broader pre-​political distinction between
the human (ruler) and nonhuman (ruled), with the latter category including
beings such as plants and animals. In sum, attempts to erase the hierarchical
xi

Preface      •      xi

distinctions between human beings continue to rely upon and overlook an

overly hierarchical understanding of human‒nonhuman relations.
This is the key point that scholars tend to ignore and a central reason for
my focus on what I will call the “connectedness of rule” (explained in greater
detail later). While I contend that some degree of hierarchy is unavoidable,
since ruling beliefs and practices will inevitably impact a broad community
of nonhuman beings and entities, rule also entails the ability to consider, in a
more nuanced and sensitive manner, the implications of human beings’ rul-
ing ideas and practices. This point suggests human beings view themselves
as ruling-​in and ruling-​for the well-​being of a broader community of beings,
and not just ruling with other humans. While plurality, action, and politics
always implicate people in hierarchical relations of some sort, albeit to vary-
ing degrees, I will argue that these relations can and should be critically recon-
ceived. This “human/​nonhuman” distinction in ruling relations is one of the
central assumptions that I will examine and ultimately contest in order to
enrich our contemporary understanding of rule. My aim here is to question
some of our basic assumptions about the concept and its attendant practices,
and hopefully, as Raymond Geuss articulates, “to inform our imagination
for positive transformations of our own moral [and political] thinking”
(2005, 231).
Skepticism about rule also fuels optimism in a particular normative con-
ception of rule—​namely, the rule of law. In general, those advocating the rule
of law want to minimize arbitrary discretion and rely more heavily on imper-
sonal or less discretionary offices, laws, rules, and procedures. In the Western
tradition, this motivation extends all the way back to the Greeks. Political
theorists such as Aristotle, whose ideal political order valued rational rules
and correspondingly durable political constitutions, believed that virtu-
ous, deliberating citizens could rely upon unwritten law (custom) to estab-
lish durable laws and constitutions. The resulting constitutional structures
were intended to prevent impressionistic change and political instability
that may result from privileging private interests and desires over the com-
mon good.7 In a more modern manifestation, Max Weber (1973) explains
in “Politics as a Vocation” how bureaucratic nation-​states largely replace
direct forms of human rule with less discretionary offices, rules, and pro-
cedures. In short, political theorists throughout the Western tradition have
been suspicious of ruling practices and institutions that place tremendous
amounts of discretionary, hierarchical political power in the hands of fallible
human beings. Such suspicions have facilitated institutions and practices in
x i i   
• Preface

contemporary democracies that aim to eliminate many deplorable aspects of

discretionary rule.
The benefits of reducing such discretion, however, come with various
costs. Modern rule of law and bureaucratic officialdom have contributed
to contemporary democratic citizens forgetting or neglecting many of the
responsibilities that stem from a basic human capacity to rule. Such neglect
is exhibited in voter apathy and indifference to a variety of environmental
issues, and thus democratic citizenship frequently falls short in addressing
some of the most pressing problems of our age. As I have suggested, we can
productively tackle these issues by expanding our historical and cultural
perspectives on rule. Increasing our perspectivism allows me to revive the
concept and explain how everyday citizens play an important, ongoing role
in ruling relations, especially as it involves human relations to the natural,
nonhuman world.
Returning briefly to the original objection and source of skepticism, ruling
questions in the history of political thought have generally revolved around
ideas of hierarchical domination, mastery, command, or obedience. These
associations invoke the first and perhaps most obvious dimension of rule, that
of “ruling-​over.” Hierarchical relations of ruling-​over expose the important
historical fact that Western conceptions of rule have been largely understood
in a vertical manner. In Greece and many subsequent Western traditions, this
has fostered an understandable amount of criticism and spurred a desire for
greater sociopolitical equality and more horizontal forms of governance such
as democracy. Such horizontal forms highlight a second dimension of rule,
“ruling-​with.” In turn, identifying these two dimensions allows us to sketch
out a rather familiar story in the West: equality and freedom are good, hier-
archy is bad, and rule in human communities is necessary at best, inherently
degrading at worst. Although rule inevitably entails a hierarchical dimension,
Western theories of rule have failed to see how we might cultivate greater
attentiveness to various dimensions of ruling and a more robust sense of hori-
zontal interconnectedness that could make room for both political egalitari-
anism among citizens and a sound approach to human‒nonhuman relations.
Substantiating this claim requires that I first provide a basic definition of rule,
including a few distinctions between basic subtypes.
Here one might begin by defining ruling as making and enforcing deci-
sions for a perdurant group of people, which might involve various degrees
of interpersonal participation. Such a definition of rule resembles at least
two broader definitions of politics that are nicely summed up by Raymond
Geuss. First, he explains how we can view politics as “any human activity of
xiii

Preface      •      xiii

structuring or directing or coordinating the actions of a group” (2014, 147),

and second, as centered on the question: Who does what to whom for whose
benefit? (2008, 25‒30).8 At this level of abstraction or generality, politics and
rule appear to be quite similar if not identical sorts of activities. In one sense,
these general definitions provide a helpful starting point for cross-​cultural
inquiry due to their formulaic nature, as they could apply to a wide variety of
human societies across both temporal context and geographic region—​even
if the specific content or substance of answers to various political/​ruling ques-
tions might vary tremendously across time and space. In another sense, how-
ever, I want to suggest that if we remain at this level of generality then we lose
something once we descend the ladder of abstraction to examine particular,
concrete historical cases. In other words, if we collapse the definition of rule
and politics across the board, then we will be prevented—​or at least seriously
hampered in our efforts—​to identify a number of pressing issues associated
with rule in particular cases. In subsequent chapters, I will thus locate and
examine particular beliefs that come to light when we examine rule at a lower
level of abstraction, investigating two specific traditions of rule within their
respective conceptual contexts.
Broader definitions aside, I would like to explicate the underpinnings
of more familiar ruling structures in Western political thought, which will
clarify the theoretical criteria I use to evaluate ruling as distinction in Greece,
stewardship in India, and an intercultural vision of world-​making. When
considering these differing conceptions of rule I suggest that we envision
rule as possessing at least three distinct dimensions, and thereby parse three
subtypes of ruling relations: “ruling-​over” (vertical), “ruling-​with” (horizon-
tal), and “ruling-​for” (depth and breadth of considered interests).9 In turn,
each dimension is characterized by a particular type of question. Ruling-​over
evokes the question, “Who rules over whom (or what)?,” which could be one
over many, few over many, humans over nonhuman, and so on. In contrast,
ruling-​with asks “With whom do rulers rule (if anyone)?,” which could have
answers ranging from nobody (monarchy) to many (democracy). Finally,
ruling-​for elicits the question, “For what or whose interests and well-​being do
rulers rule?,” with answers that may include the maximization of private inter-
ests, corporate interests, animal interests, or protecting some common good.
I will further argue that, taken together, these dimensions direct our attention
to an additional dimension of “ruling-​in.” This fourth dimension evokes the
fact that human beings rule not only within the context of human commu-
nities but also in a broader, more expansive context of human‒nonhuman
communities of interests. That is to say, various types of nonhuman beings
x i v   
• Preface

also possess or express capacities and interests that should be considered in

relations of rule.
As I explain in later chapters, recognizing relations of ruling-​in is essen-
tial because it clarifies how human beings are inherently connected to and
thus responsible for more than just human interests, that is, in the sense of
being “response-​able” for considering the interests of nonhuman beings and
for keeping a watchful eye on the well-​being of interconnected human‒non-
human communities. The ability to rule and ruling-​in thus entails a particular
conception of what I call “response-​ability.”10 If something has an ability to
affect something else in some way (which I believe is generally going to be the
case with any being or entity whose existence is somehow felt or recognized
by human or nonhuman beings) and has the capacity to recognize this abil-
ity, then this being would have a response-​ability to respond in a way that
ritualistically acknowledges, respects, and attends to that affect. This is not to
say, of course, that human beings can ever fully comprehend or predict all the
various implications, affects, and differences their ruling beliefs have upon or
in the world but only that they have a rather unique ability to consider some
of these implications. Accordingly, rule emerges as a political capacity that
everyone possesses and carries with them daily. Therefore, I can further refine
my definition in the following way: ruling is a power that human beings have
to make decisions that always already, in both hierarchical and horizontal
ways, implicate them to varying degrees in affective relations to broader com-
munities of human and nonhuman beings whose interests are fundamentally
intertwined.
Returning to the first two basic aspects of rule, ruling models that empha-
size vertical relationships tend to privilege elements of ruling-​over others and
become associated with both domination and exclusion from ruling activi-
ties. For example, monarchy and aristocracy entail a single or small group of
human beings exercising rule over others, often assuming that fewer have the
necessary capabilities, rights, or authority to rule over others in a larger group.
Therefore, in numerical terms this vertical dimension generally relies on greater
exclusion of some individuals from political power, and in normative terms,
this axis highlights how decision-​making impacts—​in both positive and neg-
ative ways—​a larger community whose political identity and collective inter-
ests are affected by such decisions or commands. Alternatively, democratic
forms of rule attempt to flatten such hierarchical relations by appealing to
the horizontal dimension of ruling-​with. Leveled types of rule are often asso-
ciated with cooperation and inclusion, emphasizing shared decision-​making
or consideration of a common good or interests as we see, for example, in
xv

Preface      •      xv

the Classical Athenian example of choosing juridical and legislative office by

lot, Jean-​Jacque Rousseau’s notion of collectively interpreting the general will
in The Social Contract, and civic republican traditions more generally (which
emphasize a res publica, or “public thing”). Of course, these two dimensions
of rule are not mutually exclusive, as the two are almost always bound up
with one another. Take the United States, for example. In one sense, elected
politicians and legal procedures (or laws) rule over common citizens, while
in another sense democratic elections and propositions demonstrate how a
broader array of common citizens engage in ruling-​with one another. Modern
and contemporary mixtures aside, in the history of Western political thought
ruling-​over has generally been the reviled opponent of both republican and
democratic politics.
If we adopt a broader historical perspective, then the West’s predominant
understanding of rule as typified by ruling-​over appears partly responsible
for its bad reputation. Since the early modern period, Western nations have
attempted to adopt more leveled forms of rule and emphasize the horizon-
tal dimension of ruling-​with. Political forms such as democracy and republi-
canism have thus become increasingly popular as normative models of rule.
However, this attraction to forms of rule that emphasize its horizontal dimen-
sion and possibilities has led us to give ruling-​over an excessively bad reputa-
tion, and ruling-​with too easy a pass, partly because ruling-​with emphasizes
capacities shared by human beings alone. Ruling-​with can lead, therefore, to
an overly idealistic political position by distracting us from the ways in which
horizontal forms of rule rely on institutionalized, vertical relations of power
and ruling-​over. This distraction comes with significant consequences, as the
examples I provide display how ruling-​with (and politics broadly defined)
might always entail, and even require, some form of ruling-​over in at least two
respects. To make this point in a way that connects it to one of Geuss’s defini-
tions of politics: the question of “who does what to whom for whose benefit”
always entails hierarchical power relations, and therefore commits people to
some form of ruling-​over other people as well as nonhuman beings.11
As I mentioned, transforming the way we think about rule requires us to
think more carefully about the connectedness of rule. In theoretical terms, this
refers to the implications and effects that follow from human beings’ beliefs
about what it means to rule. In adopting particular beliefs about the meaning
of rule, human beings act, make collective decisions, and formulate practices
that express and reinforce these beliefs over time. Within this idea of con-
nectedness one can parse two distinct points of view. The first concerns the
more humanistic viewpoint, particularly the idea that rule is a relationship
x v i   
• Preface

between the person(s) who make and enforce the rules and those (human or
otherwise) who are subject to them. Consequently, something like acquies-
cence but not full consent is required from the ruled for this relationship to
be stable, which would include an appropriate level of concern for the inter-
ests and well-​being of the nonhuman ruled—​that is, if we expect those beings
and the natural world to continue to exist in anything like their current state.
Here the term “subject” is taken to mean someone or something, either indi-
vidually or collectively, that is hierarchically impacted by and made subject to
the thoughts or actions of another. This locution highlights a second point of
view regarding the connectedness of rule, namely the idea that both human
and nonhuman beings (or entities, phenomena) can be subjects of rule. That
is, human beings are also “subjected” to both micro-​and macro-​level non-
human forces, resulting in deep relations of interdependence between the
human and nonhuman.12 If we fail to take the connectedness of rule seri-
ously and privilege human-​centric conceptions of ruling-​with, then we are
led toward the following dilemma.
Forms of rule that emphasize ruling-​with other people and ruling-​for
predominantly human interests often prioritize consent and active par-
ticipation, which then makes it impossible for us to conceptualize, and
thus problematize, the relationship between rule and the nonhuman pre-
cisely because nonhuman beings cannot consent or participate in ways we
are accustomed to, say, in democratic societies. In this respect, ruling-​with
can and has facilitated particular sorts of delusions about the hierarchical
implications of ruling-​over. For example, we suppose that emphasizing the
horizontal dimension of ruling-​with somehow removes or diminishes the
most deplorable aspects of ruling-​over others in a hierarchical fashion, while
more subtle yet equally consequential forms of ruling-​over have not disap-
peared but merely (and one might say, surreptitiously) been shifted to the
nonhuman. Put another way, the modern infatuation with democracy and
republicanism tends to divert our attention from other, equally problematic
forms of hierarchical rule that impact the health and future of our earthly
estate. Therefore, focusing on ruling-​over has some hidden benefits that we
can revive to our advantage, insofar as re-​emphasizing this dimension of rule
can help us become more honest with ourselves and clear about the various
hierarchical dimensions of human‒nonhuman rule. As I will argue in the
Conclusion, shifting our perspective in how we think about the meaning of
rule and developing a new understanding of ruling in terms of stewardship
and world-​making can better account for the various dimensions of ruling-​
over, ruling-​with, ruling-​for, and ruling-​in. However, to understand what
xvii

Preface      •      xvii

ruling as world-​making might entail, I want to clarify further the relation-

ship between rule and cosmology.

Cosmological Aspects of Rule

and Responsibility for Stewardship
While the connectedness of rule emphasizes an ongoing interconnectedness
between human and nonhuman beings, the nature of such nonhuman beings
admittedly changes over time and across cultures. In one time and place,
people may believe that gods or a God play important roles in their collec-
tive lives, while in another period similar roles may be played by dark mat-
ter, neurons, major hurricanes, and increasingly complex technical devices.
Regardless of time and place, human practices and beliefs have expressed a
multitude of human‒nonhuman cosmologies.
And while cosmology may seem like an odd category to invoke here, its
connection to contemporary political thought and behavior is more perva-
sive than one might initially think. Broadly speaking, a cosmology entails an
expansive and meaningful network of beings, entities, and phenomena that
connect to and interact with one another in both predictable and unpre-
dictable ways. Examples of various layers in modern cosmological thinking
include: exotic subatomic particles that we try to understand using devices
such as the Large Hadron Collider, and whose power we hope to harness for
politically relevant purposes; neurons firing in our brains and genetic codes
that are understood to impact human behavior and influence political beliefs;
various bio-​and nano-​technologies that create new ways of relating to each
other and the world around us, some of which increasingly blur lines between
humans, nonhuman organisms, and machines; a complex and potentially
threatening universe in which meteorites unsettle us and require that politi-
cians and citizens in countries such as the United States decide how much
funding NASA deserves; and environmental dangers that remind us of the
interconnectedness of complex, delicate ecosystems involving nonhuman
beings and entities, which raise important questions about how to construe
more eco-​friendly political practices. Each of these examples invokes ques-
tions, concerns, and human projects that involve collective decision-​making
and display how human‒nonhuman connections are not archaic, apolitical
artifacts. Whether we are conducting scientific research, hiking an outdoor
trail, walking along a crowded city street, or voting on funding for public
transportation, our modern lives require constant involvement in various lay-
ers and facets of political cosmology.
x v i i i   
• Preface

Whether or not human communities have made these cosmologies explicit

is an important question because such connectedness often remains implicit
in various political theories. From a philosophical and normative standpoint,
there is an important difference between explicit and implicit theories of the
connectedness of rule because implicit models can easily lead to a state of
forgetfulness, and thus lack of awareness, of the extent to which human wel-
fare relies on various connections to the nonhuman that are implied in the
theory. Nevertheless, from an historical standpoint, both explicit and implicit
theories highlight a more general point of convergence: the connectedness of
rule does not appear to be something that human beings and polities can jet-
tison altogether. The connectedness of rule seems to be a primordial feature
of political relations across time and space, even if it is not thematized and
brought to critical awareness. As part of my theory-​building exercise, mak-
ing such theories as explicit as possible helps us better understand the his-
torically contingent nature of particular theories and traditions. Raising such
critical awareness is important because it allows us to better evaluate and chal-
lenge particular assumptions within various traditions that may otherwise
be overlooked or under-​examined. In sum, clarifying historical and cultural
contingency helps us locate and critically evaluate potentially problematic
background assumptions.
At this point one might ask why human‒nonhuman connectedness and
interdependence necessarily create a responsibility or duty to preserve non-
human nature. My normative position, to be clear, is primarily consequen-
tialist. As I have begun to suggest, human-​centric views of rule that only
consider human interests and understand nonhuman nature instrumentally
as a passive resource for human use and consumption are problematic for
several reasons. First, anthropocentric positions are inaccurate and mislead-
ing, failing to capture the interconnected well-​being of human beings and
nonhuman nature. As I will explain in greater detail in the Conclusion, the
porosity of our individual and communal identities means that our survival
depends on our porous relations not only with other human beings but non-
human beings as well. Failure to acknowledge this fact and act upon it by
considering our potential responsibilities to those we rule over leads to an
embarrassing performative contradiction. Second, anthropocentric views of
rule are dangerous because they encourage the development of technologies
and habits that threaten the survival of a nonhuman nature that sustains us
(at least for the moment). If we do not reject destructive, human-​centered
assumptions, then human beings may assist in creating a world so fragile and
unstable that we end up in an antagonistic contest for hierarchical specieist
xix

Preface      •      xix

distinction, domination, and potential counter-​dominance at the hands of

nonhuman nature. Finally, current views about the nature of rule are limiting
because they prevent us from getting clear about our contemporary predica-
ment and how we might resolve it. Critically retrieving and modifying our
predominant conceptions of rule that extend back to the Greeks can provide
an invaluable way of addressing problems associated with anthropocentric
political positions.
These claims lead to a consequentialist defense for responsible stewardship
and world-​making through our relations and practices of rule. In short, pre-
serving nonhuman nature is overwhelmingly in our enlightened self-​interest
as human beings. Duties of stewardship and responsible world-​making stem
from our interests as a species and should be critically informed by recon-
ceiving our understanding of rule along the various dimensions I have out-
lined. In fact, flipping the “connectedness of rule” around to identify what
one might call the “rule of connectedness” could identify another consequen-
tialist argument for normative duties.13 This alternative locution helps dem-
onstrate two important things: first, that connectedness is the ordinary and
necessary condition of human life, and second, ruling will always impact our
connectedness. Therefore, we have good reasons to understand rule as entail-
ing a normative duty—​or “rule” in the sense of a regulation or principle that
governs our conduct within the sphere of politics—​for stewardship. Because
ruling will always involve and impact connectedness, human beings have a
pragmatic need and responsibility to care for nonhuman nature and preserve
it because it is in our best interest to do so based on the consequences.
In light of this normative position, I would like to make a few additional
remarks as to why a comparative examination of ancient Greek and Indian
conceptions of rule can be of particular value. To begin with, these tradi-
tions supply considerable historical distance and leverage for a critique of
modern and contemporary ruling beliefs, particularly those that hinder
our ability to recognize dilemmas concerning human‒nonhuman rela-
tions. Modern traditions of political thought do not provide an adequate
starting point for investigating these issues because they follow many of the
human-​exceptionalist conceptions of politics that already pervade Classical
Greek, Roman, and Medieval Christian political thought. To put this point
another way, Western political traditions and contemporary scholars gen-
erally celebrate human beings’ “break” with some determinative natural or
cosmic order—​after all, this is often seen as a mark of our freedom and dig-
nity as a species. Following such assumptions, Western traditions of politi-
cal thought have largely ignored the implications of their ruling beliefs for
x x   
• Preface

human‒nonhuman relations. In the process, we have failed to consider

how re-​tooling our ruling beliefs and practices might help humans inter-
act less instrumentally, and more benevolently, toward a broader environ-
ment. While environmental political theorists have made laudable efforts
to address these sorts of issues, they have not gathered all the potential his-
torical and cultural leverage that would allow us to locate some of the most
problematic presumptions we have inherited in the history of Western polit-
ical thought.14 A combination of premodern and non-​Western perspectives
help supply such critical distance.
On the Greek side, examining Homer and Hesiod explains how and why
the Greeks began positing a political tension and rupture between the human
and nonhuman. As this break is already assumed and articulated in the politi-
cal philosophies of Plato and Aristotle, as well as the writings of early Classical
historians and playwrights, Homeric and Hesiodic works offer the best start-
ing point for critical inquiry. In their major works, we observe the earliest ten-
sions concerning the connectedness of rule, including a particular ideational
framework that emerges around these tensions. Having clarified the Greek
vantage point and critical leverage it provides, a subsequent shift in perspec-
tive and engagement with early and middle Vedic political thought exposes
how the Greek understanding of rule differs in a few startling ways. Instead
of a cosmo-​political rupture between the human and nonhuman, brahmins
envision increased attachment between human and nonhuman beings.
Importantly, Classical Hindu traditions—​and even “heterodox” Buddhist
and Jain traditions—​are deeply influenced by early brahmanical thought and
its conception of the connectedness of rule. This comparative study thus aims
to step behind, chronologically speaking, both Classical Greek and Classical
Indian political thought to better understand how and why such conceptual
trajectories emerge in the first place.
Concerning the Greek case, I want to emphasize that Homer and Hesiod
are helpful starting points for this project, but I do not want to suggest that
they exhaust all potential philosophical viewpoints on the topic of human‒
nonhuman connectedness in ancient Greece, or in subsequent Western tradi-
tions for that matter. Various pre-​Socratic philosophers such as Heraclitus
and Democritus, as well as Classical philosophers such as Epicurus, may
undoubtedly serve as positive resources for thinking about political cosmol-
ogy and the connectedness of rule. Moreover, it is not unreasonable to assume
that aspects of Homeric and Hesiodic cosmological ideas persist in various
philosophies in the post-​archaic period. Here I would simply like to make
two points to clarify why I choose to focus solely on Homer and Hesiod.
xxi

Preface      •      xxi

First, in a historically situated sense, pre-​Socratic philosophers do not

tend to engage or take into account distinctly political questions such as the
meaning of rule in the way that Homer and Hesiod do. Although various pre-​
Socratic and Classical philosophers may provide interesting arguments about
the cosmological or atomistic ideas behind a potential politics and political
theory, they do not generally provide explicit or convincing arguments for the
normative connection between the two. For those Greek philosophers who
might happen to draw more explicit connections between cosmology and pol-
itics, as Cynthia Farrar (1988, 192‒264) argues Democritus had done, I main-
tain that such thinkers already tend to privilege a particular Greek approach
to human‒nonhuman political relations. For example, even Democritus’s
cosmologically informed position privileges individualistic self-​reliance and
human-​centric aspects of politics, insofar as he focuses on personal well-​being
in the form of euthumia (contentment, lit. “temperate or good condition of
the soul”). Because euthumia can be glossed as personal, corporeal modera-
tion and atomic harmony of the body-​soul compound, his position does not
explicitly focus on implications that follow, for example, from the human‒
nonhuman connectedness of rule. In this regard, Democritus’s political
thought implicitly accepts some of the more fundamental conceptual distinc-
tions that can already be found in Homer and Hesiod, particularly a politi-
cal position that focuses on human interests and well-​being as opposed to an
interconnected and deeply context-​based conception of human‒nonhuman
well-​being.
While one might object that Democritus’s atomistic materialism was cos-
mologically integrationist and holistic, as Farrar argues his political thinking
leans in a direction that tends to conceive human well-​being as the primary
stakes of rule and political order. In addition, while Farrar (1988, 250) aptly
points out that Democritus’s conception of justice (dikē) includes the treat-
ment of nonhuman creatures, whereby it is unjust to harm a creature that
has done no harm to us nor intends any harm, the criterion for distinguish-
ing between just and unjust behavior remains problematic due to a partic-
ularly narrow, and I would suggest, humanistic, standard for distinguishing
just from unjust behavior. The idea of “harm” itself often implies the ability
to discern intentionality on the part of the creature that purportedly harms
us. However, it would be difficult in many cases to judge unjust behavior or
“harm” by nonhuman beings on the basis of intentionality. How do I judge
whether some animal “harms” me or not—​is it understood purely in physical
terms? Don’t our assessments about hostility and security often require us to
distinguish between intentional and unintentional harm, and if so, how do
x x i i   
• Preface

we extend our judgments of intentionality to such a wide variety of nonhu-

man beings and entities? For example, what if the physical harm an animal
causes me is based on its instincts or sense of threat on its part, or perhaps its
behavior toward me is based on mistakenly associating me (or even a part of
me) with a potential source of food? Does this automatically justify me kill-
ing or harming it in every case, or perhaps only in some cases? What if I have
very little or no interaction with animals on a day-​to-​day basis? How would
this alter things? While preventing or drastically diminishing overt and sys-
tematic harm is important, appealing to positive interests centered on flour-
ishing, self-​determination, and interests is a more proactive approach and
better addresses a number of difficult questions that Democritus’s position
presents.15 Finally, from the standpoint of my own argument, Greek thinkers
such as Democritus rely too heavily on a single, substantive conception of
justice that does not make quite enough room for context, circumstance, and
shifting relationality. This brings me to a second point.
My methodological motivation on the Western side of things is to locate,
in a historically specified manner, some of the earliest concepts that explicitly
or implicitly justify later political bifurcations between the human and non-
human. While various post-​Classical Western philosophers such as Spinoza
might embrace some form of cosmological holism, they tend to be outliers in
the Western tradition of political thought, and one of my central concerns is
to ask why they are such marginal figures. What central distinctions are made
in early Western political thought such that cosmologically oriented philoso-
phers and political thinkers do not receive more attention? What is so attrac-
tive and influential about the human‒nonhuman political distinction? And
following from this, how can we locate and critique implicit yet problem-
atic assumptions that may have been overlooked and might have justified the
relative neglect of an Epicurus, Spinoza, and cosmologically holist political
philosophies? Using a cross-​cultural vantage point, and the Vedic tradition
in particular, better highlights the contingency of various assumptions about
rule in early Western political thought, and thus has greater potential to
unsettle deep-​seated cultural assumptions that pervade the Western tradition.
While Homer and Hesiod provide greater leverage for critiquing Classical,
modern, and contemporary conceptions of rule in various Western traditions,
the Vedas supply additional analytic leverage that allows us to better under-
stand a wide range of Western beliefs about rule, starting with the Greeks.
Using what I call a “historical-​comparative” approach to political theory,
I argue that the early Greek understanding of rule as distinction—​whereby
rulers aim to enhance their honor, glory, and reputation in an attempt to
xxiii

Preface      •      xxiii

hierarchically distinguish and situate themselves above others—​introduces

particular problems for the connectedness of rule. While the conceptual
developments in their political thought remain multifaceted and differ in
certain respects, both Homer’s and Hesiod’s understanding of rule rely upon
a strongly demarcated sense of individuality, agonistic competition, and rel-
ative disconnectedness between the human and nonhuman. In contrast, the
brahmanical understanding of rule as stewardship, while emphasizing a much
greater degree of connectedness and intertwined well-​being between the
human and nonhuman, introduces alternative problems that are associated
with metaphysical holism, overly harmonious interconnectedness, and prob-
lematic human typology. After contrasting these conceptions of rule according
to categories and concepts shared between each tradition in c­ hapter 5, in the
Conclusion I explain how a novel, cross-​cultural vision of rule draws impor-
tant insights from my comparative analysis and entails a “dual leveling” across
both human and nonhuman registers. Here I formulate a unique intercultural
perspective for thinking about the connectedness of rule. This intercultural
conception better navigates the shoals of a more human-​centric and overly
agonistic individualism, on the one hand, and an overstretched conception of
interconnected harmony and hierarchical inequality, on the other. In particu-
lar, this new understanding of rule pushes against the idea of rule being based
on one or more of the following principles: human-​centrism, disconnected
individualism, impersonal institutionalism, proceduralism, static hierarchy,
and human typology. Instead, ruling can be understood more along the lines
of decentered interconnectedness, open and shifting identity, personal creativ-
ity, and leveled ruling capacities. Drawing on the Greek and Indian traditions,
this alternative conception will place greater emphasis on the transformative
power of bodily rituals, sacrifice, and cosmology, and my cross-​cultural analysis
will ultimately point toward a vision of rule grounded in everyday, leveled pro-
cesses of world-​making. Before arguing these points in subsequent chapters,
in the next chapter I will outline and address the central challenges that this
historical-​comparative approach will confront.
xxv

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many people contributed in making this book, and I owe a great deal to all
those who have supported me as I developed the ideas that appear in the fol-
lowing pages. This book is based on my dissertation work in the Department
of Political Science at the University of California, Santa Barbara. I want to
extend my deepest gratitude to Paige Digeser, whose incredible support and
insightful questions, comments, and suggestions helped me develop these
ideas from their earliest stages. Special thanks go to Farah Godrej, Andrew
Norris, Barbara Holdrege, and John Lee, each of whom provided invaluable
feedback during the project’s early stages and challenged me to think carefully
about various parts of my argument. I would also like to express my sincere
appreciation to Thomas M. Hughes, who patiently read and commented on
multiple drafts of every chapter in the book, and without whom this book
would undoubtedly be worse off. I am also incredibly lucky to have had a
supporting family and friends over the years, who have provided the much-​
needed reassurance that I could in fact see this project through to the end.
Most of all, I thank Sierra for her love, understanding, and unswerving sup-
port. She is so deeply a part of me that this book is just as much hers as it is
mine—​she can decide which parts she would like to take most credit for.
I would also like to thank the following people for their support and help-
ful comments on the ideas and arguments presented in the book (my sin-
cere apologies to anyone I may leave out): Bentley Allan, Matthew Baxter,
Jane Bennett, P. J. Brendese, Jon Carlson, Sam Chambers, William Connolly,
Stefan Dolgert, John Fortuna, Greg Hillis, Jishnu Guha-​Majumdar, Vicky
Hsueh, Leigh Jenco, Anatoli Ignatov, Jacqui Ignatova, Jesse Knutson, Yu-​
chun Kuo, Quinn Lester, Brian Lovato, Timothy Lubin, Sophia Mihic,
Matthew Moore, John Rapp, Vanita Seth, Chad Shomura, James Stoner, and
Catherine Zuckert. It has been a tremendous pleasure to work with Angela
Chnapko at Oxford University Press, whose support and professionalism
have been invaluable in bringing this book to completion. Special thanks go
x x v i   
• Acknowledgments

to the incredibly careful reading and thoughtful feedback of the anonymous

reviewers, whose critiques and suggestions pushed me to sharpen many of the
ideas and arguments presented in the book. Their comments helped improve
the manuscript tremendously.
Research for this book was carried out on campuses and libraries in
California, Wisconsin, Maryland, and India, including the following: UC
Santa Barbara; University of Wisconsin, Madison; Johns Hopkins University;
Jawaharlal Nehru University, Delhi. I would like to thank the audiences who
provided insightful questions and comments at Annual Meetings of numer-
ous professional conferences, including the American, Midwest, Western,
and Southern Political Science Associations. I presented earlier portions of
this book and received valuable feedback at the Political Theory Workshop,
South Asian Religion and Cultures Research Focus Group, and Borderlands
Research Group at UC Santa Barbara, as well as the Political Science
Colloquium at Johns Hopkins University. This research was supported by
doctoral fellowships and grants at UC Santa Barbara, the Amy and Charles
Scharf Postdoctoral Fellowship in the Department of Political Science at
Johns Hopkins University, and financial support provided by Washington
and Lee University.
Portions of ­ chapter 4 have been published as “Cross-​ Cultural
Intelligibility and the Use of History: From Democracy and Liberalism to
Indian Rajanical Thought,” The Review of Politics 78, no. 2 (2016): 251–​83,
for which I thank Cambridge University Press for permission to republish.
xxvii

A DEFENSE OF RULE
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
this question not in terms of an individual, but in terms of the
species.
Yet Mr. Belloc insists upon writing of “the Fittest” as a sort of
conspicuously competitive prize boy, a favourable “sport,” who has to
meet his female equivalent and breed a new variety. That is all the
world away from the manner in which a biologist thinks of the
process of specific life. He sees a species as a vast multitude of
individuals in which those without individual advantages tend to fail
and those with them tend to be left to continue the race. The most
important fact is the general relative failure of the disadvantaged.
The fact next in order of importance is the general relative survival of
the advantaged. The most important consequence is that the
average of the species moves in the direction of advantageous
differences, moving faster or slower according to its rate of
reproduction and the urgency of its circumstances—that is to say, to
the severity of its death-rate. Any one particular individual may have
any sort of luck; that does not affect the general result.
I do not know what Mr. Belloc’s mathematical attainments are, or
indeed whether he has ever learnt to count beyond zero. There is no
evidence on that matter to go upon in these papers. But one may
suppose him able to understand what an average is, and he must
face up to the fact that the characteristics of a species are
determined by its average specimens. This dickering about with
fancy stories of abnormal nuptials has nothing to do with the Theory
of Natural Selection. We are dealing here with large processes and
great numbers, secular changes and realities broadly viewed.
I must apologise for pressing these points home. But I think it is
worth while to take this opportunity of clearing up a system of foggy
misconceptions about the Theory itself that may not be confined
altogether to Mr. Belloc.

Mr. Belloc Comes to His Evidence

 And now let us come to Mr. Belloc’s second triad of arguments—
his arguments, as he calls them, “from Evidence.” The sole witness
on Evidence called is his own sturdy self. He calls himself into the
box, and I will admit he gives his testimony in a bluff, straightforward
manner—a good witness. He says very properly that the theory of
Natural Selection repudiates any absolute fixity of species. But we
have to remember that the rate of change in any species is
dependent upon the balance between that species and its
conditions, and if this remains fairly stable the species may remain
for as long without remarkable developments, or indulge in variations
not conditioned by external necessities. The classical Lingula of the
geological text-books, a warm-water shell-fish, has remained much
the same creature throughout the entire record, for hundreds of
millions of years it may be. It was suited to its submarine life, and
hardly any variation was possible that was not a disadvantage. It
swayed about within narrow limits.
This admission of a practical stability annoys Mr. Belloc; it seems
to be a mean trick on the part of the Theory of Natural Selection. He
rather spoils his case by saying that “according to Natural Selection”
the swallow ought to go on flying “faster and faster with the process
of time.” Until it bursts into flames like a meteor and vanishes from
our world? And the Lingula ought to become more and more
quiescent until it becomes a pebble? Yet plainly there is nothing in
the Theory of Natural Selection to make the swallow fly any faster
than its needs require. Excess of swiftness in a swallow may be as
disadvantageous as jumping to conclusions can be to a
controversialist.
But here is a statement that is spirited and yet tolerably fair:—

“If Natural Selection be true, then what we call a Pig is but a

fleeting vision; all the past he has been becoming a Pig, and all
the future he will spend evolving out of Pigdom, and Pig is but a
moment’s phase in the eternal flux.”

This overlooks the melancholy possibility of an extinction of Pigs,

but it may be accepted on the whole as true. And against this Mr.
Belloc gives us his word, for that upon examination is what his
“Evidence” amounts to—that Types are Fixed. He jerks in capitals
here in a rather convincing way. It is restrained of him, considering
how great a part typography plays in his rhetoric, that he has not put
it up in block capitals or had the paper perforated with the words:
Fixed Types.

“We have the evidence of our senses that we are

surrounded by fixed types.”

For weeks and months it would seem Mr. Belloc has walked
about Sussex accumulating first-hand material for these
disputations, and all this time the Pigs have remained Pigs. When he
prodded them they squealed. They remained pedestrian in spite of
his investigatory pursuit. Not one did he find “scuttling away” with a
fore-limb, “half-leg, half-wing.” He has the evidence of his senses
also, I may remind him, that the world is flat. And yet when we take a
longer view we find the world is round, and Pigs are changing, and
Sus Scrofa is not the beast it was two thousand years ago.
Mr. Belloc is conscious of historical training, and I would suggest
to him that it might be an improving exercise to study the Pig
throughout history and to compare the Pigs of the past with the Pigs
of a contemporary agricultural show. He might inform himself upon
the bulk, longevity, appetites, kindliness, and general disposition of
the Pig to-day. He might realise then that the Pig to-day, viewed not
as the conservative occupant of a Sussex sty, but as a species, was
something just a little different as a whole, but different, definably
different, from the Pig of two thousand or five thousand years ago.
He might retort that the Pig has been the victim of selective breeding
and is not therefore a good instance of Natural Selection, but it was
he who brought Pigs into this discussion. Dogs again have been
greatly moulded by man in a relatively short time, and, again, horses.
Almost all species of animals and plants that have come into contact
with man in the last few thousand years have been greatly modified
by his exertions, and we have no records of any detailed
observations of structure or habits of creatures outside man’s range
of interest before the last three or four centuries. Even man himself,
though he changes with relative slowness because of the slowness
with which he comes to sexual maturity, has changed very
perceptibly in the last five thousand years.

Mr. Belloc a Fixed Type

Mr. Belloc says he has not (“Argument from Evidence”). He says
it very emphatically (“Crushing Argument from Evidence”—to adopt
the phraseology of his cross-heads). Let me refer him to a recent
lecture by Sir Arthur Keith (Royal Society of Medicine, Nov. 16,
1925) for a first gleam of enlightenment. He will realise a certain
rashness in his statement. I will not fill these pages with an attempt
to cover all the changes in the average man that have gone on in the
last two or three thousand years. For example, in the face and skull,
types with an edge-to-edge bite of the teeth are giving place to those
with an overlapping bite; the palate is undergoing contraction, the
physiognomy changes. And so on throughout all man’s structure. No
doubt one can find plentiful instances to-day of people almost exactly
like the people of five thousand years ago in their general physique.
But that is not the point. The proportions and so forth that were
exceptional then are becoming prevalent now; the proportions that
were prevalent then, now become rare. The average type is
changing. Considering that man only gets through about four
generations in a century, it is a very impressive endorsement of the
theory of Natural Selection that he has undergone these palpable
modifications in the course of a brief score of centuries. Mr. Belloc’s
delusion that no such modification has occurred may be due to his
presumption that any modification would have to show equally in
each and every individual. I think it is. He seems quite capable of
presuming that.

Triumphant Demand of Mr. Belloc

 Mr. Belloc’s next Argument from Evidence is a demand from the
geologist for a continuous “series of changing forms passing one into
the other.” He does not want merely “intermediate forms,” he says;
he wants the whole series—grandfather, father, and son. He does
not say whether he insists upon a pedigree with the bones and
proper certificates of birth, but I suppose it comes to that. This
argument, I am afraid, wins, hands down. Mr. Belloc may score the
point. The reprehensible negligence displayed by the lower animals
in the burial of their dead, or even the proper dating of their own
remains, leaves the apologist for the Theory of Natural Selection
helpless before this simple requisition. It is true that we now have, in
the case of the camels, the horses, and the elephants, an
extraordinary display of fossil types, exhibiting step by step the
development and differentiation of species and genera. But this, I
take it, rather concerns his Third than his Second Argument from
Evidence.

A Magnificent Generalisation
The third argument is essentially a display of Mr. Belloc’s inability
to understand the nature of the record of the rocks. I will assume that
he knows what “strata” are, but it is clear that he does not
understand that any uniform stratum indicates the maintenance of
uniform conditions while it was deposited and an absence of
selective stresses, and that when it gives place to another different
stratum, that signifies a change in conditions, not only in the
conditions of the place where the stratum is found, but in the supply
of material. An estuary sinks and gives place to marine sands, or
fresh water brings down river gravels which cover over an
accumulation of shingle. Now if he will think what would happen to-
day under such circumstances, he will realise that the fauna and
flora of the stratum first considered will drift away and that another
fauna and flora will come in with the new conditions. Fresh things will
come to feed and wade and drown in the waters, and old types will
no longer frequent them. The fossil remains of one stratum are very
rarely directly successive to those below it or directly ancestral to
those above it. A succession of forms is much more difficult and
elusive to follow up, therefore, than Mr. Belloc imagines. And then if
he will consider what happens to the rabbits and rats and mice on
his Sussex estate, and how they die and what happens to their
bodies, he may begin to realise just what proportion of the remains
of these creatures is ever likely to find its way to fossilisation.
Perhaps years pass without the bones of a single rabbit from the
whole of England finding their way to a resting-place where they may
become fossil. Nevertheless the rabbit is a very common animal.
And then if Mr. Belloc will think of palæontologists, millions of years
after this time, working at the strata that we are forming to-day,
working at a gravel or sand-pit here or a chance exposure there, and
prevented from any general excavation, and if he will ask himself
what proportion of the rare few rabbits actually fossilised are likely to
come to light, I think he will begin to realise for the first time in his life
the tremendous “gappiness” of the geological record and how very
childish and absurd is his demand for an unbroken series of forms.
The geological record is not like an array of hundreds of volumes
containing a complete history of the past. It is much more like a few
score crumpled pages from such an array, the rest of the volumes
having either never been printed, or having been destroyed or being
inaccessible.
In his Third Argument from Evidence Mr. Belloc obliges us with a
summary of this record of the rocks, about which he knows so little. I
need scarcely note here that the only evidence adduced is his own
inspired conviction. No “European” palæontologist or biologist is
brought out of the Humbert safe and quoted. Here was a chance to
puzzle me dreadfully with something “in French,” and it is
scandalously thrown away. Mr. Belloc tells us, just out of his head,
that instead of there being that succession of forms in the geological
record the Theory of Natural Selection requires, there are
“enormously long periods of stable type” and “(presumably) rapid
periods of transition.” That “presumably” is splendid; scientific
caution and all the rest of it—rapid periods when I suppose the
Creative Spirit got busy and types woke up and said, “Turn over; let’s
change a bit.”
 There is really nothing to be said about this magnificent
generalisation except that it is pure Bellocking. Wherever there is a
group of strata, sufficiently thick and sufficiently alike to witness to a
long-sustained period of slight alterations in conditions, there we find
the successive species approximating. This is not a statement à la
Belloc. In spite of the chances against such a thing occurring, and in
defiance of Mr. Belloc’s assertion that it does not occur, there are
several series of forms in time, giving a practically direct succession
of species. Mr. Belloc may read about it and at the same time
exercise this abnormal linguistic gift which sits upon him so
gracefully, his knowledge of the French language, in Deperet’s
Transformations du Monde Animal, where all these questions are
conveniently summarised. There he will get the results of Waagen
with a succession of Ammonites and also of Neumayr with Paludina,
and there also he will get information about the sequence of the
species of Mastodon throughout the Tertiary age and read about the
orderly progress of a pig group, the Brachyodus of the Eocene and
Oligocene. There is a touch of irony in the fact that his own special
protégé, the Pig, should thus turn upon him and rend his Third
Argument from Evidence.
More recondite for Mr. Belloc is the work of Hilgendorf upon
Planorbis, because it is in German; but the drift of it is visible in the
Palæontology wing of the London Natural History Museum, Room
VIII. A species of these gasteropods was, during the slow processes
of secular change, caught in a big lake, fed by hot springs. It
underwent progressive modification into a series of successive new
species as conditions changed through the ages. Dr. Klähms’
specimens show this beautifully. Rowe’s account of the evolutionary
series in the genus Micraster (Q.J.M.S., 1899) is also accessible to
Mr. Belloc, and he will find other matter to ponder in Goodrich’s
Living Organisms, 1924. The finest series of all, longer in range and
completer in its links, is that of the Horse. There is an excellent little
pamphlet by Matthew and Chubb, well illustrated, The Evolution of
the Horse, published by the American Museum of Natural History,
New York, so plain, so simple, so entirely and humiliatingly
destructive of Mr. Belloc’s nonsensical assertions, that I pray him to
get it and read it for the good of his really very unkempt and
neglected soul.
Thus we observe that Mr. Belloc does not know the facts in this
case of Natural Selection, and that he argues very badly from such
facts as he misconceives. It is for the reader to decide which at the
end is more suitable as a laughing-stock—the Theory of Natural
Selection or Mr. Belloc. And having thus studied this great Catholic
apologist as an amateur biologist and arrived at the result, we will
next go on to consider what he has to say about the origins of
mankind—and Original Sin.
 IV
MR. BELLOC’S ADVENTURES AMONG THE
SUB-MEN: MANIFEST TERROR OF THE
NEANDERTHALER

FROM Mr. Belloc’s feats with Natural Selection we come to his

adventures among his ancestors and the fall of man. These are, if
possible, even more valiant than his beautiful exposure of the “half-
educated assurance” of current biological knowledge. He rushes
about the arena, darting from point to point, talking of my ignorance
of the “main recent European work in Anthropology,” and avoiding
something with extraordinary skill and dexterity. What it is he is
avoiding I will presently explain. No one who has read my previous
articles need be told that not a single name, not a single paper, is
cited from that galaxy of “main recent European” anthropology. With
one small exception. There is a well-known savant, M. Marcellin
Boule, who wrote of the Grottes de Grimaldi in 1906. Some facetious
person seems to have written to Mr. Belloc and told him that M.
Boule in 1906 “definitely proved the exact opposite” of the
conclusions given by Mr. Wright in his Quaternary Ice Age (1914),
and quoted in my Outline. Mr. Belloc writes this down, elevates M.
Boule to the magnificence of “Boule” simply and follows up with the
habitual insults. By counting from his one fixed mathematical point,
zero in some dimension unknown to me, he concludes that I must be
twenty years out of date, though the difference between 1906 and
1914, by ordinary ways of reckoning, is really not minus twenty but
plus eight.
The same ungracious humorist seems to have stuffed up Mr.
Belloc with a story that for the last twenty years the climate of the
earth has ceased to vary with the eccentricity of the earth’s orbit, and
that any natural consequences of the precession of the equinoxes no
longer occur; that climate has, in fact, cut loose from astronomical
considerations, and that you can find out all about it in the
Encyclopædia Britannica. You cannot. Mr. Belloc should have tried.
Some day he must find time to puzzle out M. Boule’s curve of
oscillation of the Mediterranean and correlate it with Penck’s, and go
into the mystery of certain Moustierian implements that M. Boule
says are not Moustierian; and after that he had better read over the
little discussion about changes of climate in the Outline of History—it
is really quite simply put—and see what it is I really said and what
his leg-pulling friend has been up to with him in that matter. It may be
kinder to Mr. Belloc to help him with a hint. Croll made an excellent
book in which he pointed out a number of astronomical processes
which must produce changes of climate. He suggested that these
processes were sufficient to account for the fluctuations of the glacial
age. They are not. But they remain perfectly valid causes of climatic
variation. Croll is no more done for than Darwin is done for. That is
where Mr. Belloc’s friend let Mr. Belloc down.
But Mr. Belloc does not always work on the information of
facetious friends, and sometimes one is clearly in the presence of
the unassisted expert controversialist. When, for example, I say that
the Tasmanians are not racially Neanderthalers, but that they are
Neanderthaloid, he can bring himself to alter the former word also to
Neanderthaloid in order to allege an inconsistency. And confident
that most of his Catholic readers will not check him back by my book,
he can ascribe to me views about race for which there is no shadow
of justification. But it is disagreeable to me to follow up such issues,
they concern Mr. Belloc much more than they do the living questions
under discussion, and I will not even catalogue what other such
instances of unashamed controversy occur.

Mr. Belloc as Iconoclast

 In the course of the darting to and fro amongst human and sub-
human pre-history, Mr. Belloc criticises me severely for quoting Sir
Arthur Keith’s opinion upon the Piltdown remains. I have followed
English authorities. All these remains are in England, and so they
have been studied at first hand mostly by English people. No one
can regret this insularity on the part of Eoanthropus more than I do,
but it leaves Mr. Belloc’s “European opinion on the whole” rejecting
Sir Arthur Keith as a rather more than usually absurd instance of Mr.
Belloc’s distinctive method. “What European opinion?” you ask. Mr.
Belloc does not say. Probably Belloking of Upsala and Bellokopoulos
of Athens. Mr. Belloc—forgetting that in an earlier edition of the
Outline I give a full summary of the evidence in this case, up-to-date
—informs his Catholic audience that I have apparently read nothing
about the Piltdown vestige but an “English work.” And then he
proceeds to fall foul of the “restoration” of Eoanthropus. It is an
imaginary picture of the creature, and I myself think that the artist
has erred on the human side. Mr. Belloc objects to all such
restorations.
Well, we have at least a saucerful of skull fragments and a
doubtful jawbone to go upon, and the picture does not pretend to be,
and no reader can possibly suppose it to be, anything but a tentative
restoration. But why a great Catholic apologist of all people, the
champion of a Church which has plastered the world with portraits of
the Virgin Mary, of the Holy Family, and with pictures of saints and
miracles in the utmost profusion, without any warning to the simple-
minded that these gracious and moving figures to which they give
their hearts may be totally unlike the beings they profess to
represent—why he should turn iconoclast and object to these
modestly propounded restorations passes my comprehension. At
Cava di Tirrene near Naples I have been privileged to see, in all
reverence, a hair of the Virgin, small particles of St. Peter, and other
evidences of Christianity; and they did not seem to me to be so
considerable in amount as even the Eoanthropus fragments. And
again, in this strange outbreak of iconoclastic rage, he says:—
 “Again, we have the coloured picture of a dance of American
Red Indians round a fire solemnly presented as a
‘reconstruction’ of Palæolithic society.”

He has not even observed that the chief figures in that picture
are copied directly from the actual rock paintings of Palæolithic men
although this is plainly stated.

Mr. Belloc Discovers a Mare’s-Nest

And yet he must have looked at the reproductions of these rock
paintings given in the Outline. Because in his ninth paper he comes
out with the most wonderful of all the mare’s-nests he has
discovered in the Outline of History, and it concerns these very
pictures. You see there is an account of the Reindeer men who lived
in France and North Spain, and it is said of them that it is doubtful if
they used the bow. Mr. Belloc declares that it is my bitter hatred of
religion that makes me say this, but indeed it is not. It is still doubtful
if the Reindeer hunters had the bow. The fires of Smithfield would
not tempt me to say certainly either that they had it or that they did
not have it, until I know. But they seem to have killed the reindeer
and the horse and bison by spearing them. Mr. Belloc may have
evidence unknown to the rest of mankind in that Humbert safe of his,
otherwise that is the present state of our knowledge. But, as I explain
on pages 56 and 57 in language that a child might understand,
simultaneously with that reindeer-hunting life in the north there were
more advanced (I know the word will disgust Mr. Belloc with its horrid
suggestion of progress, but I have to use it) Palæolithic people
scattered over the greater part of Spain and reaching into the South
of France who had the bow. It says so in the text: “Men carry bows”
runs my text, describing certain rock pictures reproduced in my book.
I wrote it in the text; and in the legends that are under these pictures,
legends read and approved by me, the statement is repeated. The
matter is as plain as daylight and as plainly stated. Mr. Belloc will get
if he says over to himself slowly: “Reindeer men, bows doubtful;
Azilian, Capsian men to the south, bows certainly.” And now
consider Mr. Belloc, weaving his mare’s-nest:—

“Upon page 55 he writes, concerning the Palæolithic man of

the cave drawings, this sentence: ‘it is doubtful if they knew of
the bow.’
“When I first read that sentence, I was so staggered, I could
hardly believe I had read it right.
“That a person pretending to teach popular prehistorical
science in 1925 should tell us of the cave painters that it was
‘doubtful if they knew of the bow’ seemed to me quite out of
nature.
“It was the more extraordinary because here before me, in
Mr. Wells’s own book, were reproductions of these cave
paintings, with the bow and the arrow appearing all over them!
Even if he did not take the trouble to look at the pictures that
were to illustrate his book, and left that department (as he
probably did) to hack work, he ought, as an ordinary educated
man, to have known the ultimate facts of the case.
“Palæolithic man was an archer, and an archer with an
efficient weapon.
“The thing is a commonplace; only gross ignorance can
have overlooked it; but, as I have said, there is a cause behind
that ignorance. Mr. Wells would not have made this enormous
error if he had not been possessed with the necessity of making
facts fit in with his theology.”

The Chasing of Mr. Belloc Begins

There is a real splendour in these three almost consecutive
passages. And note incidentally how this facile controversialist
bespatters also my helpers and assistants. They do “hack work.”
Palæolithic man, speaking generally, was not an archer. Only the
later Palæolithic men, dealing with a smaller quarry than the
reindeer, seem to have used the bow. Manifestly it is not I who am
fitting my facts with my theology here, but Mr. Belloc. He is inventing
an error which is incredible even to himself as he invents it, and he is
filling up space as hard as he can with indignation at my imaginary
offence.
Why is he going on like this? In the interests of that Catholic soul
in danger? Possibly. But his pen is running so fast here, it seems to
me, not so much to get to something as to get away from something.
The Catholic soul most in danger in these papers of Mr. Belloc’s is
Mr. Belloc’s, and the thing he is running away from through these six
long disputations is a grisly beast, neither ape nor true man, called
the Neanderthaler, Homo Neanderthalensis. This Homo
Neanderthalensis is the real “palæolithic” man. For three-quarters of
the “palæolithic” age he was the only sort of man. The Reindeer
men, the Capsian men, are “modern” beside him. He was no more
an archer than he was an electrical engineer. He was no more an
artist than Mr. Belloc is a man of science.
Instead of bothering with any more of the poor little bits of argey-
bargey about this or that detail in my account of the earlier true men
that Mr. Belloc sees fit to make—instead of discussing whether these
first human savages, who drew and painted like Bushmen and
hunted like Labrador Indians, did or did not progress in the arts of life
before they passed out of history, let me note now the far more
important matters that he refuses to look at.
Mr. Belloc makes a vast pother about Eoanthropus, which is no
more than a few bits of bone; he says nothing of the other creature
to whom I have devoted a whole chapter: the man that was not a
man. Loud headlines, challenging section headings, appeal in vain to
Mr. Belloc’s averted mind. Of this Neanderthal man we have plentiful
evidence, and the collection increases every year. Always in
sufficiently old deposits, and always with consistent characteristics.
Here is a creature which not only made implements but fires, which
gathered together ornamental stones, which buried its dead. Mr.
Belloc says burying the dead is a proof of a belief in immortality. And
this creature had strange teeth, differing widely from the human,
more elaborate and less bestial; it had a differently hung head; it was
chinless, it had a non-opposable thumb. Says M. Boule, the one
anthropologist known to Mr. Belloc: “In its absence of forehead the
Neanderthal type strikingly resembles the anthropoid apes.” And he
adds that it “must have possessed only a rudimentary psychic nature
... markedly inferior to that of any modern race.” When I heard that
Mr. Belloc was going to explain and answer the Outline of History,
my thought went at once to this creature. What would Mr. Belloc say
of it? Would he put it before or after the Fall? Would he correct its
anatomy by wonderful new science out of his safe? Would he treat it
like a brother and say it held by the most exalted monotheism, or
treat it as a monster made to mislead wicked men?
He says nothing! He just walks away whenever it comes near
him.
But I am sure it does not leave him. In the night, if not by day, it
must be asking him: “Have I a soul to save, Mr. Belloc? Is that
Heidelberg jawbone one of us, Mr. Belloc, or not? You’ve forgotten
me, Mr. Belloc. For four-fifths of the Palæolithic age I was ‘man.’
There was no other. I shamble and I cannot walk erect and look up
at heaven as you do, Mr. Belloc, but dare you cast me to the dogs?”
No reply.
The poor Neanderthaler has to go to the dogs, I fear, by
implication, for Mr. Belloc puts it with all the convincing force of
italics, that “Man is a fixed type.” We realise now why he wrote the
four wonderful chapters about Natural Selection that we have done
our best to appreciate. It was to seem to establish this idea of fixed
types. Man had to be shown as a “Fixed Type” for reasons that will
soon be apparent. Apart from Mr. Belloc’s assertion, there is no
evidence that man is any exception to the rest of living creatures. He
changes. They all change. All this remarkable discourse about bows
or no bows and about the high thinking and simple living of these
wandering savages of twenty or more thousand years ago, which
runs through half a dozen papers, seems to be an attempt to believe
that these early men were creatures exactly like ourselves; and an
attempt to believe that the more animal savages of the preceding
hundred thousand years did not for all practical purposes exist at all.
An attempt to believe and induce belief; not an attempt to
demonstrate. Mr. Belloc emerges where he went in, with much said
and nothing proved, and the Outline undamaged by his attack. And
emerging he makes a confession that he never was really concerned
with the facts of the case at all. “Sympathy or antagonism with the
Catholic faith is the only thing of real importance in attempting to
teach history”—and there you are! All these argumentative
gesticulations, all these tortured attempts to confute, are acts of
devotion to Mr. Belloc’s peculiar vision of the Catholic faith.
I am afraid it is useless for me to suggest a pilgrimage to Mr.
Belloc, or I would ask him to visit a popular resort not two hours by
automobile from the little corner of France in which I am wont to
shelter my suburban Protestantism from the too bracing English
winter. That is the caves at Rochers Rouges, at which, as it
happens, his one quoted authority, M. Boule, worked for several
years. There in an atmosphere entirely “Latin” and “continental,”
under the guidance of Signor Alfredo Lorenzi, he can see for himself
his Fixed Type Man at successive levels of change. No northern man
need be with him when he faces the facts of these caves; no
Protestant shadow need dog his steps; his French, that rare
distinguished gift, will be understood, and he may even air such
Provençal or Italian as he is master of. The horrid Neanderthaler is
not in evidence. But there, protected by glass covers, he will be able
to see the skeletons of Cro-Magnon man and Grimaldi man lying in
the very positions in which they were discovered. He will see for
himself the differences of level at which they were found and have
some help in imagining the ages that separate the successive types.
He will note massiveness of skull and protrusion of jaw. He will see
the stone implements they used, the ashes of their fires, and have
some material for imagining the quality of their savagery. He can
hunt about for arrow-heads to bear out his valiant assertion that
Palæolithic man was “an archer with an efficient weapon.” He will
hunt until stooping and the sunshine make him giddy, in vain. And
then, with these bones fresh in his mind, he should go to the
Museum at Monaco and see the skeleton of a modern human being.
He will find no end of loud talk and valiant singing and good red wine
necessary before he can get back to his faith in man as a Fixed
Type.

Where Was the Garden of Eden?

It is extremely difficult to find out what Mr. Belloc, as a
representative Catholic, believes about human origins. I was
extremely curious to get the Catholic view of these matters, and I
heard of the advent of these articles with very great pleasure,
because I thought I should at last be able to grasp what I had
hitherto failed to understand in the Catholic position. But if Mr. Belloc
has said all that there is to say for Catholicism upon these points,
Catholicism is bankrupt. He assures me that to believe in the Biblical
account of the Creation is a stupid Protestant tendency, and that
Catholics do not do anything of the sort. His attitude towards the
Bible throughout is one almost of contempt. It is not for me to decide
between Christians upon this delicate issue. And Catholics, I gather,
have always believed in Evolution and are far above the intellectual
level of the American Fundamentalist. It is very important to Catholic
self-respect to keep that last point in mind. Catholic evolution is a
queer process into which “Design” makes occasional convulsive
raids; between which raids species remain “fixed”; but still it is a sort
of Evolution. My peasant neighbours in Provence, devout Catholics
and very charming people, have not the slightest suspicion that they
are Evolutionists, though Mr. Belloc assures me they are.
But, in spite of this smart Evolutionary town wear of the Church,
it has somehow to be believed by Catholics that “man” is and always
has been and will be the same creature, “fixed.” That much Mr.
Belloc gives us reiteratively. A contemporary writer, the Rev. Morris
Morris, has written an interesting book, Man Created During
Descent, to show that man’s immortal soul was injected into the
universe at the beginning of the Neolithic period, which makes those
Azilians and Capsians, with their bows and carvings, mere animals.
The new Belloc-Catholic teaching is similar, but it puts the human
beginnings earlier. Somewhen after the Chellean and Moustierian
periods, and before the Reindeer men, I gather that “man” appeared,
according to Catholic doctrines, exactly what he is now. Or rather
better. He was clad in skins and feathers, smeared with paint, a
cave-hunting wanderer with not even a dog at his heels; but he was,
because Mr. Belloc says so, a devout monotheist and had a lucid
belief in personal immortality. His art was pure and exalted—there
were little bone figures of steatopygous women in evidence. He had
no connection with the Neanderthal predecessor—or else he had
jumped miraculously out of the Neanderthaler’s bestial skin.
Sometimes it seems to be one thing and sometimes the other. But all
that stuff about Adam and Eve and the Garden and the Tree and the
Serpent, so abundantly figured in Catholic painting and sculpture,
seems to have dropped out of this new version of Catholic truth.
Yet those pictures are still shown to the faithful! And what the Fall
becomes in these new revelations of Catholicism, or whether there
was a Fall, historically speaking, Mr. Belloc leaves in the densest
obscurity. I have read and re-read these articles of his, and I seek
those lucid Latin precisions he has promised me in vain. Was and is
that Eden story merely symbolical, and has the Church always
taught that it is merely symbolical? And if so, what in terms of current
knowledge do these symbols stand for? Is it symbolical of some
series of events in time or is it not? If it is, when and what were the
events in time? And if it is not, but if it is symbolical of some
experience or adventure or change in the life of each one of us, what
is the nature of that personal fall? What is the significance of the
Garden, the Innocence, the Tree, the Serpent? To get anything clear
and hard out of Mr. Belloc’s papers in reply to these questions is like
searching for a diamond in a lake of skilly. I am left with the
uncomfortable feeling that Mr. Belloc is as vague and unbelieving
about this fundamental Catholic idea as the foggiest of foggy
Protestants and Modernists, but that he has lacked the directness of
mind to admit as much even to himself. Yet surely the whole system
of salvation, the whole Christian scheme, rests upon the
presumption of a fall. Without a fall, what is the value of salvation?
Why redeem what has never been lost? Without a condemnation
what is the struggle? What indeed, in that case, is the Catholic
Church about?
What modern thought is about is a thing easier to explain. In the
Outline of History, against which Mr. Belloc is rather carping than
levelling criticism, there is set out, as the main form of that Outline, a
progressive development of conscious will in life. It is not a form
thrust upon the massed facts by any fanatical prepossession; it is a
form they insisted upon assuming under my summarising hand.
What is going on in this dispute is not that I am beating and putting
over my ideas upon Mr. Belloc or that he is beating and putting over
his ideas upon me, but that the immense increase of light and
knowledge during the past century is imposing a new realisation of
the quality and depth and import of life upon us both, and that I am
acquiescent and he is recalcitrant. I judge his faith by the new
history, and he judges the new history by his faith.
 V
FIXITY OR PROGRESS

I AM glad to say that we are emerging now from the worst of the
controversial stuff, irritating and offensive, in which Mr. Belloc is so
manifestly my master, and coming to matters of a more honest
interest.
I have stuck to my argument through the cut and slash, sneer
and innuendo of Mr. Belloc’s first twelve papers. I have done my best
to be kind and generous with him. I have made the best excuses I
can for him. I have shown how his oddities of bearing and style arise
out of the difficulties of his position, and how his absurd reasonings
about Natural Selection and his deliberate and tedious
bemuddlement of the early Palæolithic sub-men with the late
Reindeer men and the Capsian men are all conditioned by the
necessity he is under to declare and believe that “man” is, as he puts
it, a “Fixed Type,” the same in the past and now and always. He is
under this necessity because he believes that otherwise the
Christian faith cannot be made to stand up as a rational system, and
because, as I have shown by a quotation of his own words, he
makes their compatibility with his idea of Catholic teaching his
criterion in the acceptance or rejection of facts.
I will confess I do not think that things are as bad as this with
Christianity. I believe a far better case could be made for Catholicism
by an insistence that its value and justification lie in the change and
in the direction of the human will, in giving comfort and consolation
and peace, in producing saints and beautiful living; and that the truth
of the history it tells of space and time is entirely in relation to the
development of these spiritual aspects, and has no necessary
connection whatever with scientific truth. This line of thought is no