Although the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) was dissolved as a political entity in 1991, no definite consensus has emerged regarding the relationship between Lenin, socialism, and the USSR. Investigation of this relationship remains important however, as consensus agrees the USSR was totalitarian; and, if Lenin was a socialist, then socialism may have been the primary source of the USSR's totalitarian bent. This matters today because Leninist-style, single-party communism remains a political force in China, Cuba, and Vietnam, and many observers insist these countries have totalitarian inclinations. Furthermore, popular support for communist and socialist ideas appears to be growing, and if socialism is innately totalitarian then modern socialists are effectively praying to Shiva, misdirecting social energies that should be aimed at reforming capitalism rather than replacing it with a system that could prove even worse. For these reasons, the question remains: was Lenin a socialist?
The task of answering this question is complicated by two major factors. First, World War One was the Leninist moment. Lenin agitated for revolt long before the Great War. But, it was only after the First World War broke out that his revolution began. Why was this? Was there something specific to war that was conducive to Lenin's revolution, and the consolidation of a professedly Socialist Republic? Second, while it is commonly accepted Lenin drew heavily from the communist tradition, communism was not the only, or even most prominent socialism in the period of his political education and activity. Lenin lived in an era when socialism was defined as much by anarchism as communism. Because there were deep antagonisms between these two socialisms, it's not possible to understand the connection between Lenin and socialism without an appreciation for socialism's anarchist strain. Thus we refine our line of inquiry, and ask: what was the relationship between Lenin, communism, and anarchism, in the era of the Great War?
To answer this, we will here develop a broad sketch of the two socialisms inherited by Lenin -- anarchist socialism also referred to as libertarian socialism, and communist socialism -- and define their essential characteristics. We will then survey the politics of Lenin, and compare his words and acts against the essential characteristics of these two socialisms. Because Lenin's deeds are well known, we will focus on his rhetoric. To capture Leninism as accurately as possible, we will quote him directly, and use his words to focus our attention on the historical evolution of the content of his politics, per his most prominent books, pamphlets, and speeches. Keeping this goal in mind, we will not examine the origins or sources of Lenin's political philosophy, and we will not investigate if, or how Leninism arose from the two socialisms. Rather, we will explore Leninism from its emergence in the pre-war period, trace its development through to the era of Great War and the Russian Revolution when Lenin came to power, and examine how his political philosophy compared with the two socialisms of his era. Beginning with his written works from 1901, we shall investigate the basis of Leninism, and analyze how it contrasts with the two socialisms. To achieve this, we will observe where each of the two socialisms made contact with Leninism and where they did not, up until 1921, by which time the full substance of Leninism was readily apparent.
Before sketching anarchism and communism, we begin with a high-level definition of socialism. Looking backwards, political observers date the origin of modern socialism to the 1820s and 1830s. Socialism arose as a direct response to the poor labour conditions and low wages of the early nineteenth-century, when industrialism and capitalism were on the rise, and the concentration of capital in the hands of business and political elites produced evermore discontent among the working poor. The upshot of socialist analysis was that capitalism was inequitable, and that political power and economic resources should be redistributed to create a society that was more egalitarian, and provide a dignified quality of life for all, rather than resplendence for the few and destitution for the many. The basic tenets that all socialisms shared were anti-capitalism, and the belief that the management of resources, production, and government should be public rather than private. To achieve these ends, the earliest works of socialist theory aimed at helping people unpack the political economy of capitalism, and devising anti-capitalist programs to solve society's most pressing problems.
Robert Owen, Charles Fourier, and Henri de Saint-Simon represented the first wave of socialists, and though their theories aimed at making practical improvements for all, their ideas were proven impractical in short order. Within a few years, by 1840, socialism undertook its first major step towards theoretical clarity, with the libertarian socialist tract What is Property?, wherein a foundation was developed for anarchism. Shortly after the arrival of anarchism, in 1848, The Communist Manifesto presented a theoretical basis for communist socialism, which defined itself in opposition to both capitalism and anarchism. Anarchism and communism were both forms of socialism, though they disagreed on means and ends; and, in order that we may compare these two socialisms against Lenin's words and acts, we will now develop an outline of their essential characteristics and oppositions, beginning with communism.
Communism began with Marx's and Engels' class analysis: "The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles." Building from this, communism explained socioeconomic conditions in terms of historically contingent class antagonisms. As civilization progressed, those with power used violence to create systems that aggrandized their power, which further disenfranchised the rest of society, and over time concentrated ownership of the means of production and exchange in the hands of the powerful. This created a permanent split between the lower class, dubbed the proletariat, and the upper class, dubbed the bourgeoisie. The bourgeoisie continue to maintain themselves as the upper class because they reap the products and profits of the proletariat's hard work, and this is not just. However, because the bourgeoisie control the economy they also actuate society's ideological superstructure, which consists of an interconnected totality of explanations for why things must remain as they are. In this way, bourgeoisie mentality and morality sustain bourgeoisie society by bourgeoisie norms, which the proletariat are born into and accept. For communist socialism, it is the unconscious acceptance of capitalist ideology that must be overcome before the proletariat can undertake the task of claiming society for all peoples.
However, the job of nineteenth-century communist socialists was not so straightforward as passing around copies of the Manifesto. Marx and Engels were acutely aware that the intellectual conditioning of the proletariat did not yield autodidacts. Even worse, the size of the contemporary proletariat belied the possibility of theoretical or practical cohesion. Cohesion however was not the only issue facing communists, as Shlomo Avineri observes; "Marx's and Engels' theoretical awareness of the limitations of proletarian revolutions and their need for intellectual guidance was coupled with disdain, if not outright contempt, for those leaders of the movement who were themselves of working class origin."
Ultimately, Marx and Engels believed they themselves were furthest removed from the intellectual limitations of the proletariat, and that socialist unity would no longer be problematic, because the agent of cohesion was now at hand: communism. Communists were already "the most advanced and resolute section of the working-class parties of every country," and they would be the section of the proletariat that "pushes forward all others." Communists would form the revolutionary socialist elite, and because Marx and Engels were the most forward-thinking revolutionaries, they should assume the burden of commanding the communists. Under their direction, the proletariat would attack the bourgeoisie, take physical control of the state, and centralize all economic and political power in the communist state:
the antagonism between the proletariat and the bourgeoisie is a struggle of class against class ... is it at all surprising that a society founded on the opposition of classes should culminate in brutal contradiction, the shock of body against body, as its final denouement?
The proletariat will use its political supremacy to wrest, by degree, all capital from the bourgeoisie, to centralise all instruments of production in the hands of the State ...
to concentrate increasingly in the hands of the state all capital, all agriculture, all transport, all trade
Importantly, the state apparatus would not be sustained in the long term because it was bourgeoisie in its foundations, and so could not help preserving bourgeoisie and capitalist characteristics. Once revolution was won, both the state and bourgeoisie mentality would be induced to wither away, as control and ownership over the means of production and exchange were redistributed among the proletariat. Under the communist political economy, competitive production and market exchange would be replaced by central management of production and distribution. Property, ideas, and resources would be shared in common, and the products of labour would be distributed as required; "From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs!"
Like communism, anarchism sought to overthrow capitalism and place control and ownership of production in the hands of the workers. Unlike communism, Proudhon's libertarian socialism planned to immediately decentralize the control of production and distribution, and place it directly in the hands of independent workers living in independent communities, to avoid supporting capitalist middlemen as well as unproductive freeloaders. Furthermore, the libertarian socialist revolution would be peaceable, and forswear the state from the outset, for if (socialist) violence was used to combat state-capitalist violence, then state-capitalists would simply respond with more violence using the organs of repression they already controlled, and how could the cycle end? Accordingly, trying to turn the already violent organs of the state towards socialism would merely taint socialism. As Ferdinand Lassalle (who was not anarchist, but understood their concern) phrased it: "Show us not the aim without the way. For ends and means on earth are so entangled, that changing one, you change the other too; Each different path brings other ends in view."
Instead of engaging the state or bourgeoisie politics in any way, the anarchist "proletariat must emancipate itself without the help of the government" or capitalism. Producers should ignore politicians and capitalists, and set up their own locally managed communities. Each community could establish its own political assembly, and freely engage in economic exchanges and social interactions with other communities, or not. Under these arrangements the state, capitalism, and inequality would disappear, because the working class was the largest segment of society and the structures of bourgeoisie life would play no role in the ever-expanding communities of the anarchists.
Picking up where Proudhon left off, Mikhail Bakunin championed the importance of revolutionaries agitating amongst the people, and emphasized the organzation of a libertarian, inter-regional federation. Bakuninist anarchism agreed with communism that there would always be a small subset of the most forward-thinking revolutionaries. However, Bakunin's anarchism claimed the socialist revolution should not be controlled by forward-thinking revolutionaries, but must in all cases be made "from the bottom up, by the free association and federation of workers." For Bakunin, these federated activist-workers were "the flower of the proletariat," the "great mass, those millions of the uncultivated, the disinherited, the miserable, the illiterates, whom Messrs. Engels and Marx would subject to their paternal rule by a strong government." Here, the role of forward-thinking revolutionaries was not to direct the masses, but to teach and challenge them, while learning from them and being challenged by them. Anarchism maintained that management of the revolution by the most cultured revolutionaries can never bring about socialism, because only the "great mass, those millions of the uncultivated ... carries in its inner being and in its aspirations, in all the necessities and miseries of its collective life, all the seeds of the Socialism of the future."
Nonetheless, while anarchists largely agreed on the role of workers, there was divergence of opinion with regard to the application of force. Bakunin believed some measure of violence was necessary to make revolution. Bakunin's view was not however the dominant one. Beyond Bakunin, anarchism writ large might be described as politically protectionist (though it did not yet have anything to protect), because it sought to avoid interaction with existing sociopolitical structures, by avoiding or limiting contact with the state and capitalism, and creating completely new communities and structures.
In summary, anarchism held that socialism should be anti-statist and decentralist in its economic and political arrangements, avoid the state and capitalists, and make non-violent revolution from the bottom up, and that each of these principles should be upheld as both means and ends. Communism also posited socialism should abolish the state, but only after the revolution had been won. To establish socialism, communism claimed socialists had to enact and protect the revolution with violence, and that revolution should be made top down by centralizing all economic and political management in the hands of the communist state, which would coordinate and control labour and the free distribution of goods, until such time as those controls could safely be redistributed among the masses. These basic disagreements continued to split anarchists from communists through the era of Lenin and the Great War (and to this today), and though the two socialisms continued to evolve they maintained the core characteristics outlined above.
Importantly, the main thrust of socialism also remained the same, as seen for example in the program of the Socialist Second International, which convened in 1889. In the words of historian Donald Sassoon, socialism
had, as its long-term goal, the destruction of capitalism and the establishment of a society where production would be subjected to the associated control of the producers, and not left to the mercy of the spontaneous decisions of millions of consumers and the calculations of thousands of capitalists
The Second International described here was less libertarian than communist, and formally adopted state-based reformism and party activity. However, with respect to the subject of violence, both anarchists and communists agreed they would not support an international war, and if war became unavoidable it should be turned towards socialist revolution.
With this overview of the two socialisms in hand, we now turn to Lenin's theory and practice, and a comparison of Leninism with anarchism and communism.
Lenin began his political activity in the early 1890s, and when the twentieth-century arrived he had already published a number of works on capitalism, socialism, and democracy. Prominent among his early works was the 1901 pamphlet What Is to Be Done? (WITBD?), in which he argued that left to their own devices, proletarians are unable to achieve a fully developed revolutionary socialist consciousness. Proletarians may achieve the level of social consciousness and theory required to unionize, but this form of political organization is limited, and doomed because unions remain isolated from each other, and present no challenge to the well-organized forces of the existing political economy.
For Lenin, this fact was proven by the Russian labour strikes of the 1890s, which "were simply trade union struggles, not yet Social Democratic struggles." These struggles were important, because they "marked the awakening antagonisms between workers and employers," and proved workers want a socialist revolution. But the striking trade union "workers, were not, and could not be, conscious of the irreconcilable antagonism of their interests to the whole of the modern political and social system," because their thoughts were bound to the ideological superstructure of bourgeoisie capitalism. Such workers were unaware that what they sought was socialism. These workers might therefore be called socialistic rather than socialist, as they were only just beginning to break out of their limited awareness and consciousness; "theirs was not yet Social-Democratic consciousness."
Per Lenin, any political action that lacked Social-Democratic consciousness was ill-fated, because the tsarist system was a highly developed anti-Social-Democratic system that could easily extinguish disjointed protests, no matter how numerous. To stage viable protests Social-Democratic consciousness was necessary. However, the "history of all countries shows that the working class, exclusively by its own effort, is able to develop only trade union consciousness," which is merely "the conviction that it is necessary to combine in unions, fight the employers, and strive to compel the government to pass necessary labour legislation." Trade union consciousness might have inspired uprisings, but was not enough to win them. If true, what was to be done?
Lenin argued that because history proved workers could only develop trade union consciousness, the source of Social-Democratic consciousness must be external to the working class. For Lenin there was no difficulty here. He appealed again to history, which he believed showed the "theoretical doctrine of Social-Democracy arose altogether independently of the spontaneous growth of the working-class movement; it arose as a natural and inevitable outcome of the development of thought among the revolutionary socialist intelligentsia." The path to victory therefore, was to "divert the working-class movement from ... spontaneous, trade-unionist striving to come under the wing of ... revolutionary Social Democracy." Knowing that Social-Democratic consciousness developed apart from the working class, the working class could not be the agents of revolutionary Social Democracy. Who could? Social-Democratic "professional revolutionaries."
As discussed, both the libertarian and communist strains of socialism held that by dint of unequal material and intellectual conditions, there would always exist degrees of revolutionary socialist consciousness. This translated in to the existence of a small subset of revolutionaries who were most forward-thinking, as they were least beholden to the existing bourgeoisie ideological superstructure of society. In this aspect, Lenin's statements about "professional revolutionaries" jelled with both anarchism and communism. Beyond this however, there is the question of the role of the most forward-thinking socialists, Lenin's "professional revolutionaries." Here, in WITBD?, Lenin explained what he saw as the historical fact and political necessity of professional revolutionaries, but he did not fully elaborate their role.
A more complete elaboration came in 1904, with One Step Forward, Two Steps Back. Here, Lenin claimed that because trade union strikes always end in failure, what the working class needed was discipline and direction, which only Social-Democratically conscious professional revolutionaries could provide. Furthermore, the only available professional revolutionaries are the Bolsheviks, so they are just the revolutionaries for the job: "We are the party of a class, and therefore almost the entire class (and in times of war, in a period of civil war, the entire class) should act under the leadership of our Party, should adhere to our Party as closely as possible." Lenin believed professional revolutionaries should be managed by those who were most advanced, and he and his coterie were well suited to the task. All of this runs counter to the anarchist tenet of decentralization, while mirroring the communist plan to centralize "all instruments of production in the hands of the State, to concentrate increasingly in the hands of the state all capital, all agriculture, all transport, all trade," and, proportionately, centralizing the control of society in the hands of those who controlled the state -- those who were "most advanced."
With respect to the role of Lenin's conception of advanced revolutionaries circa 1904, Lenin's politics were semi-libertarian and unmistakably communist. Like anarchists (and communists), Lenin held that if war should arise it should be turned towards socialist revolution. Also, Lenin's professional revolutionaries were libertarian in that they should go out among the workers and propagandize socialism, so the proletariat could begin the task of breaking free from capitalism, psychically and physically. But Lenin's professional revolutionaries were also anti-libertarian, because libertarian socialism continued to hold that the most advanced revolutionaries should not simply direct workers but learn from them, and work alongside rather than above them, so that all social groups could obtain full control of their lives.
This is an important point, and the anti-libertarian bent of Lenin's position comes out when the political characteristics of his professional revolutionaries are considered more closely. In terms of political power, Lenin's description of how the workers' revolution should be organized was remarkable, because if workers themselves had no Social-Democratic consciousness but the Bolshevik Party did, and it was the Bolsheviks that organized workers, then what would be the resulting distribution of political power? Stated another way: what would be the result of combining isolated and Social-Democratically unconscious proletarians "under the wing" of the centralized and Social-Democratically conscious Bolsheviks? The Bolsheviks would be the sole group that possessed the details of how the workers and their groups were organized. That was not all, because the very organizational structure of the workers' groups would have been designed by the Bolsheviks. Even if members of the proletariat managed to achieve Social-Democratic consciousness, they would not have access to, or control over the structures and relationships by which their lives were organized, and they would not know how the proletariat was being deployed. As communism taught, all political power would be concentrated in the hands of the professional revolutionary leadership.
This brand of socialism was both supported and criticized, by communists and libertarians alike. In the same year that Lenin wrote One Step Forward, Two Steps Back, Rosa Luxemburg, one of Lenin's most poignant critics, presented a libertarian critique decrying his centralism:
the Social Democratic movement cannot allow the erection of an air-tight partition between the class-conscious nucleus of the proletariat already in the party and its immediate popular environment, the nonparty sections of the proletariat ... the two principles on which Lenin's centralism rests are precisely these:
1. The blind subordination, in the smallest detail, of all party organs to the party center which alone thinks, guides, and decides for all.
2. The rigorous separation of the organized nucleus of revolutionaries from its social-revolutionary surroundings.
Lenin dismissed these comments, describing Luxemburg's anti-centralism as untenable because it lacked revolutionary force. In his eyes, this judgment was soon confirmed by the revolutionary deficits of 1905, which failed to topple the existing system.
Lenin updated his theories in 1906, in response to the revolutionary shortfall of 1905. Now, Lenin stated revolutionaries should not merely pass political control to the Bolsheviks when revolution occurred, but that all revolutionaries must organize themselves under the leadership of the Bolsheviks in preparation for the moment of revolution. The moment of revolution would then be determined by the Bolsheviks. "The experience of October-December has provided very instructive guidance." In 1905 socialists learned "Soviets of Workers' Deputies are organs of direct mass struggle," and "they very quickly became the organs of the general revolutionary struggle against the government." But it "was not some theory, not appeals on the part of someone, or tactics invented by someone, not party doctrine, but the force of circumstances that led these non-party mass organs to realise the need for an uprising." "This means that on their own 'soviets' and similar mass institutions are in themselves insufficient for organising an uprising." With the failure of the 1905 revolt in mind, Lenine asked: what is sufficient?
What is needed is a "military organisation alongside the organisation of soviets, for defending the latter, for carrying out an uprising," that would be called upon to start the revolution by the Bolsheviks. These new small "military organisations" would be lead by three to ten people, and recruit from "the masses that are immediately taking part in street fighting and civil war." These organizations should be operationally flexible, but not strategically flexible in and of themselves, for they should take up arms against the government only when "informed of the decision of the vanguard of the workers and peasants to begin the fight for land and liberty in the very near future."
Like the anarchists, in particular Anarcho-Syndicalists, Lenin held that socialists should create their own social structures, to lay a strong foundation for revolutionary activity. But like Lenin's statements in 1901 and 1904, his statements from 1906 are strongly anti-libertarian. The centralist communist bent of Lenin's position comes out in two ways when considering the role of the soviets, and his small "military organisations." First, the claim that "on their own 'soviets' and similar mass institutions are in themselves insufficient for organising an uprising" is exactly the argument from WITBD? and One Step Forward, Two Steps Back: that the proletariat can only develop trade union consciousness, and what is needed to achieve revolution is the leadership of professional revolutionaries with a higher level of sociopolitical consciousness. Second, Lenin's description of how the revolution should be organized continued to focus political power in the hands of the Bolsheviks. If the Soviets of Workers' Deputies and military groups consisted of proletarians whose mentality could never match the advanced level of consciousness of the Bolsheviks, and the Bolsheviks arranged the soviets and the military groups so they would be "sufficient for organising an uprising," where sufficiency was decided by the Bolsheviks, then which of these groups would wield political power? The isolated and intellectually limited proletarians, or the centralized and advanced Bolsheviks? As before, political power would be centralized in the hands of the Bolsheviks, in accordance with communist theory and contrary to the decentralism of libertarian theory.
Lenin's emphasis on the centralization of political power was not new, and the major post-1905 updates were that the Bolsheviks should determine when the revolution should begin, and the Bolsheviks should control their own militia to control their revolution. This fit the communist conception of socialist revolution, as it permitted workers to advance their revolutionary abilities while also advancing the revolution. In a narrow sense this was also libertarian, as it endowed workers with local control over the operations that affected them. However, after the failure of 1905 Lenin no longer relied on the "average people of the masses" to carry out street "battles with the police and the troops," but wanted to control prearranged "military organisations" of motivated radicals who would set out with weapons and induce workers to join the fight for Bolshevism.
Lenin understood that radicals who were deputized in the Bolshevik militia would have a sense of duty and be more likely to heat things up, and foment revolutionary activity more forcefully than the "average people of the masses." Also, while the militia and their recruits were carrying on the fight against the considerable forces of the counter-revolution, the risk to the Bolsheviks would be minimized, and they could focus on the task of consolidating the revolution. In this way, the organization of militias was anti-libertarian in a broader sense: first, because militias would not act of their own will, but only according to the strategic design of the Bolsheviks; second, because the very creation of militias went against libertarianism, which continued to eschew violence.
In any case, all of these updates to Leninism remained well within the bounds of socialism in general, though they reflected Lenin's personal experiences and ideas. This is significant because it is commonly remarked that Lenin was above all an opportunist, but even were he not, he could not have ignored the fact that by 1906 his communism was facing evermore competition from libertarianism. Support for libertarian socialism had increased dramatically across Europe and the United States since the 1890s, and particularly since the rise of anarcho-syndicalism. In a short span, anarcho-syndicalism had developed a platform and apparatus that attracted and maintained millions of adherents, and claimed over one million active members in France alone. Anarcho-syndicalism was the fastest growing and most organized, perhaps even most popular socialist opportunity circa 1904-1906. Communists, Kaisers, and Tsars alike were concerned about its rise, which threatened to interrupt their plans if something wasn't done. Because of this, we must ask: if Lenin was an opportunist, and anarcho-syndicalism was the most prominent socialist opportunity, why did he not profess libertarian anarcho-syndicalism?
Lenin answered in 1912: "The syndicalists inclined towards Anarchism, slipped into revolutionary phrase-mongering, destroyed the discipline of the working-class struggle and opposed the use of the parliamentary platform." Lenin was not anarcho-syndicalist because of his focus on party discipline, which anarcho-syndicalists held debates about but did not enforce. Also, Lenin believed it was always necessary to use the most powerful tools available, which continued to include state-based devices, such as parliaments. Furthermore, undisciplined "phrase-mongering" was not the only problem with anarcho-syndicalism, because Lenin was "for centralisation and ... opposed to the petty-bourgeois ideal of federal relationships." In any event, regardless of the specific reasons Lenin abjured anarcho-syndicalism, he made the winning political choice. The spectacular rise of anarchist syndicalism was matched only by its incredible decline (due in no small part to the rise of communism, and its coming successes in Russia).
It's crucial to note that while Lenin publicly renounced anarchism, by no means did he ignore it. Following the libertarian outcry in response to his claims about professional revolutionaries, Lenin moderated the anti-libertarian tone of his speeches. In 1908, he stopped making references to "professional revolutionaries." He also stopped comparing professional revolutionaries against working class revolutionaries, and stopped expounding on the superior characteristics of the former. This is an important trend to mark because it continued through 1913, and increased once the Great War arrived.
When the First World War began Lenin realized the situation presented unparalleled opportunities for revolution, far beyond those of 1905. He understood it was a moment of flux and believed the revolution was near to hand, and immediately urged for a broadly based communist revolt: "it is imperative to appeal to the revolutionary consciousness of the working masses." Lenin set about the task of studying the situation so he could avoid the pitfalls of the past, and successfully guide society through its revolt against the existing system. The result of his studies was Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism, in which he ruminated on the evolution of capitalism since the late nineteenth-century, and observed "Capitalism has grown into a world system of colonial oppression and ... wars are absolutely inevitable under such an economic system, as long as private property in the means of production exists." But, the might of international capitalism notwithstanding, it was not inevitable that such an economic system persist, for "Imperialism is the eve of the social revolution of the proletariat." On this point, Lenin, libertarians, and communists agreed. However, Lenin diverged again from libertarianism by advancing the communist theory for arriving at socialism: capitalism first.
Lenin argued imperialism was indeed the final stage of capitalism before socialism. However, while it was feasible to establish socialism in the most advanced capitalist countries, socialism remained a few steps away in less advanced countries like Russia. Lenin stated Marx and Engels had shown it was not possible to skip from proto- or nascent capitalism straight to socialism. This meant Russian socialists must first create capitalism, so they could overcome and abolish it, and finally establish socialism. This theory was drawn directly from the communist interpretation of history and based on communism's vision for the future, and was anti-libertarian as it entailed the aggrandizement of both capitalism and the state, rather than their abolition.
In terms of strategy, Lenin's plan did retain a libertarian element, because he stated that when establishing capitalism in Russia communists should ally with "the small proprietors ... and the millions of working people who enjoy more or less petty-bourgeois conditions of life." This was important, because this was a cross section of the population that had expanded under capitalism, as capitalism had a "tendency to create privileged sections" of the working class that elevated them economically and therefore socially, and thus detached "them from the broad masses of the proletariat." These newly privileged sections must be won back "from the bourgeoisie," and reminded their goal was the same as the lower proletariat: the end of capitalism. There was no use in doing anything to alienate potential class comrades, and there was every reason to work with them against the upper layers of power. Such an appeal was both libertarian and communist, as both socialisms believed in struggling to win the hearts, minds, and resources of the bourgeoisie.
Despite libertarian aspects, taken altogether Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism was fundamentally communist. Although Lenin discussed how to place government in the hands of the proletariat without reference to "professional revolutionaries," he continued to claim the Bolsheviks must be accepted as the "party of the proletariat" -- a centralized socialist core, intellectually and hierarchically above the masses. This was a prescript for communist leadership. So, while Lenin expanded his ideas about who should be subject to the leadership of the Bolsheviks, he did not change the demand for communist leadership itself, even if he described this demand in a manner that was less overtly anti-libertarian than in prior years.
Directly in line with his decreasingly anti-libertarian tone, Lenin drastically reduced the centralist and statist content of his rhetoric. Following his exile and the installation of the Provisional Government after the February Revolution, in his April Theses of 1917 Lenin announced:
This peculiar situation demands of us an ability to adapt ourselves to the special conditions of Party work among unprecedentedly large masses of proletarians who have just awakened to political life ...
The specific feature of the present situation in Russia is that the country is passing from the first stage of the revolution -- which, owing to the insufficient class-consciousness and organisation of the proletariat, placed power in the hands of the bourgeoisie -- to its second stage, which must place power in the hands of the proletariat and the poorest sections of the peasants
The idea of placing power in the hands of the poorest peasants and forming Soviets of Agricultural Labourers' and Peasants' Deputies was remarkably libertarian, considering Lenin's longstanding communism, which had consistently stressed placing power in the hands of the "party of the proletariat." Building on his new statement, that power should be placed in the hands of the poorest peasants, Lenin defined the main tasks at hand to include
Nationalisation of all lands in the country, the land to be disposed of by the local Soviets of Agricultural Labourers' and Peasants' Deputies ...
to bring social production and the distribution of products at once under the control of the Soviets of Workers' Deputies.
Taken alone, these statements sounded more anarcho-syndicalist than communist: workers would select their own deputies, and these deputies would represent the workers at assemblies, and coordinate production and distribution in the interests of the workers. Many of the April Theses expressed similarly libertarian sentiments, but these sentiments could only be considered libertarian when taken alone, as the following thesis makes clear: "Not a parliamentary republic -- to return to a parliamentary republic from the Soviets of Workers' Deputies would be a retrograde step -- but a republic of Soviets of Workers', Agricultural Labourers' and Peasants' Deputies throughout the country, from top to bottom." As before, Soviets would be composed of labourers' and peasants' deputies, but they would be directed "top to bottom." In any case, because the tenor of the April Theses was quasi-libertarian, and because events were moving quickly, it is doubtful the public scrutinized the Theses closely. In the event, Lenin's program appealed to communists as well as anarchists.
Libertarian support was not however enough for Lenin and the Bolsheviks to achieve power, because the Provisional Government had been the new "top to bottom" power since February. To help the Bolsheviks combat non-Bolshevik forces, whether those of the Provisional Government or otherwise, Lenin pressed again for the creation of a "people's militia." Here he echoed his statements from 1906: "Just how this people's militia can be brought into existence is something which experience will show ... There is no harm in the different districts adopting different procedures -- in fact, it would make for richer experience." As in 1906 this remained an anti-libertarian plan, because workers would have local control over local operations but would remain subject to Bolshevik strategy, and also because the creation of militias was against the libertarian tradition.
In June of 1917, Lenin's anti-libertarianism came in sharper relief, when he emphasized the necessity of revolutionary leadership by the Bolsheviks. Unlike his pre-war rhetoric, when he explicitly stated workers could not be "conscious of the irreconcilable antagonism of their interests," Lenin now extolled the virtues of those who possessed a more advanced revolutionary consciousness, and deftly suggested subordination to the latter was the sole path to victory;
every dissatisfied, class-conscious revolutionary, every angered fighter who yearns for his village home and sees no end to the war, and sometimes simply men who are out to save their own skins, rally to the banner of Bolshevism.
Where Bolshevism has a chance to air its views openly, there we find no disorganisation.
In other words: no Bolshevism, no organization, and no success. This was a warning against non-communism; "Where there are no Bolsheviks or where they are not allowed to speak, there we find excesses, demoralisation, and pseudo-Bolsheviks." That is: true revolutionaries had to watch out for non-Bolshevism and pseudo-Bolshevism, because these could only lead to "excesses, demoralisation," and failure. Lenin now sustained his rhetorical focus on the weakness of non-communism, and ramped up the communist content of his speeches and writings. As the months passed, it became increasingly clear that Lenin's plans were anti-anarchist, as he jettisoned libertarianism entirely in both the content and form of his speeches and his actions.
In March of 1918, Lenin informed Russians they should not believe it was wise for workers to take control of the political economy, because to establish socialism Russia first had to become capitalist. The problem here was that Russia was pre-capitalist, and the "Russian is a bad worker compared with people in advanced countries." To fix this, the "resolution adopted by the recent Moscow Congress of Soviets" -- which Lenin and the Bolsheviks dominated -- "advanced as the primary task of the moment the establishment of a 'harmonious organisation', and the tightening of discipline." Contrary to what Russians had been told by Lenin less than one year earlier, they were now told that what "bad worker" Russians actually needed was discipline, and discipline could never be achieved if power was "in the hands of the proletariat and the poorest sections of the peasants." Indeed, "it would be extremely stupid and absurdly utopian to assume that the transition from capitalism to socialism is possible without coercion and without dictatorship." If Lenin truly believed this was the case, had he simply made a mistake less than a year earlier, in April 1917, when he stated the task of the revolution was to place power directly in the hands of peasants via the soviets? To answer this, let us look at the events that followed Lenin's declaration that Russia needed dictatorship.
Within a few months of the declarations outlined above, the Bolsheviks adopted the program of war communism, and began the process of centralizing the control of all enterprises, the economy, and military groups in the hands of the Bolshevik state. By mid-1918, the Bolshevik state controlled industry, railroads, war policy, the media, and censored the arts. Beyond de facto subordination to the Bolsheviks via the state, people joined the Bolshevik party not because they supported its policies, but because they feared the return of the Whites to power. Context was important here, because this was all closely tied to the exigencies of the Great War and the opportunities that arose, which Lenin studied, understood, and decisively seized upon to further his program.
After the White threat subsided, circa 1920, libertarianism and the anti-Bolshevism of Russian workers became the main threat that faced the Bolsheviks. But, just as the masses were unable to topple the tsarist system in 1905, so they were unable to wrest any control from the new Bolshevik system. Lenin's power became firmly entrenched, and by the end of 1921 there could be no question regarding Lenin's position towards libertarian socialism, because the bulk of Russian anarchists were rounded up and imprisoned, executed, or exiled by the end of the year.
With this survey of the interactions between anarchism, communism, and Lenin's politics in hand, we may now present an answer to our original question: was Lenin a socialist? As suggested by our investigations above, the answer to this question is found by observing the definitions of anarchism and communism, and considering their relationship to the form and content of Lenin's words and acts.
Beginning with Lenin's ideas in 1901, he claimed that professional revolutionaries were necessary to win the socialist revolution. In this aspect, his socialism agreed with communism and anarchism. Unlike anarchism however, Lenin stated that professional revolutionaries stood above the working class, and should direct and manage them. In this respect Lenin's ideas were markedly anti-libertarian.
After the experiences of 1905, Lenin stated that he believed the proletariat was not just intellectually inferior to professional revolutionaries, but also unable to activate a revolution, let alone consolidate one. Lenin's solution for this was to create local soviets and local militias that were under the control of the Bolsheviks, and then tell them when to unleash the revolution. In these new aspects, Lenin was again communist and anti-libertarian. Further to this, Lenin soon thereafter stated unequivocally that he was anti-anarchist because anarchism was decentralist and federalist, and he supported political centralization and reformist parliamentary activity, which were both basic features of communism.
After the First World War began, Lenin toned down his anti-libertarianism, and stated that socialists should unite with the petty-bourgeoisie against the upper bourgeoisie. In this regard, his politics agreed with anarchism and communism, though he still maintained the proletariat must be subject to the management of the Bolsheviks, which was anti-libertarian. In April of 1917, Lenin declared that political and economic power should immediately be distributed among the working class, a declaration that was more anarchist than communist, as he advocated for soviets controlled by workers' deputies, and imputed the power to decide economic and political matters to those soviets. By June of 1917 however, Lenin began again to claim the proletariat must be subordinated to the control of the Bolsheviks, and in 1918 he declared that Russia required his dictatorship. After the White threat diminished, the working class actively battled Lenin's party, and Lenin responded by main force, cementing his position as dictator.
This overview of Lenin's politics demonstrates he was consistently communist and anti-libertarian, but began to abate his anti-libertarianism in 1908 and more so in 1914, then appealed heavily to libertarianism in early 1917, and developed a totalitarian form of communism soon after. Based on this, we can now see the relationship between Lenin and socialism. Lenin's words and his presentation of socialism after 1914 and through 1917 was not openly anti-libertarian, but mirrored exactly the early anti-libertarian content of his WITBD? and One Step Forward, Two Steps Back. As time went on, Lenin recognized it was not merely unproductive to advertise his anti-libertarianism but counter-productive, because libertarianism had a large support base. Lenin realized his plans would be better served by posturing in such a manner that he appealed to communists and libertarians alike. This was no easy task, because the two socialisms had fundamentally different visions. Nevertheless, Lenin successfully updated the presentational mode of his ideas to minimize offending libertarians, and he obtained their support even though his ideas remained communist and anti-libertarian, as they always had been.
This was critical to Lenin's success, because his April Theses had seemed libertarian to many. This was no accident. Lenin was well aware that libertarianism was popular among the masses, and he knew he would need as much support as possible to achieve his revolution. Hence statements such as: the revolution "must place power in the hands of the proletariat and the poorest sections of the peasants." Because of this statement, and others like it, many believed Lenin had a libertarian streak, and that he believed power need not be fully concentrated in the hands of a Bolshevik state, but could be placed directly in the hands of the proletariat. This won Lenin and the Bolsheviks a huge amount of support, as people joined the Bolsheviks in droves to bring an end to the Provisional government, establish soviets, and take personal control of the political economy. Contrary to the libertarian plans of the people however, Lenin had not abandoned his plan for the formation of a communist state controlled by professional revolutionaries. Instead, what he had done was briefly temper down his communist rhetoric and accentuate the potential of libertarianism. Soon, the fact of his deep-seated anti-libertarianism was obviated by the Bolshevik persecution of anarchists and the Bolshevik's battle against the masses, and the establishment of a dictatorship in Russia.
So then: was Lenin a socialist? Lenin adhered to communist socialism in action but moderated it in his rhetoric, to appeal to libertarian socialists and gain the broadest political support. This is not to suggest Lenin did not believe what he was doing was absolutely necessary, only that he was never a libertarian socialist, but was and remained communist socialist in his methods and his means. However, Lenin's devotion to the means of communism notwithstanding, if we abide by the general definition of socialism and its goals as presented in the opening of this paper, which both communists and anarchists agreed upon -- that "political power and economic resources should be redistributed to create a society that was egalitarian," and "that ownership and management of all resources and production techniques should be" shared publicly -- and combine this with the observation that Lenin took communism in a direction that was opposed by many socialists and the population of Russia, we have no reason to believe his communistic totalitarianism was a fully accepted form of socialism, or that the USSR's totalitarianism was a necessary product of the socialisms inherited by Lenin. The Leninist USSR that took shape after 1921 was neither libertarian or communist, but was a new and expressly dictatorial political form, patterned on Bolshevism; and, the Bolshevist USSR was a system that was anti-socialist, because it abolished worker participation and control of production and government.
This conclusion is reinforced by the fact that a sizeable segment of the libertarian socialist and communist socialist communities of Lenin's era maintained a commitment to direct worker control over production and political governance (and importantly, also non-violence). This result suggests that modern socialisms need not produce totalitarianism, though they may yield to it. Ultimately, if modern socialists are to avoid the totalitarianism of Leninism and the historical impracticability of libertarian socialism, it behooves them to investigate the relationship between Leninism, communism, and anarchism, so they might come to understand the pitfalls and real-world potentials of all three.
Got to go, got to get
get some new stuff,
new stuff to go
beside the other things!
Got to buy some things,
some new, new things to talk about.
Otherwise what will I say to you!
Got to do something big,
doesn't matter what it is,
as long as it's really big,
and bigger than what you talk about!
[ triplespeak ]
What is the relationship between biology and politics? This question emerged even before biology and politics were well-defined fields, as political leaders and natural philosophers ruminated on the nature of knowledge, and the connection between human society and the universe. The question came into sharper relief during the nineteenth-century, and in particular after the publication of Charles Darwin's On the Origin of Species in 1859. Darwin's theory provoked reactions and developments in a number of fields far removed from biology, and in connection to politics, the most conspicuous development was social Darwinism.
The phrase "social Darwinism" was first used by Joseph Fisher in 1877, and referred to the application of biological theories in the political sphere, and specifically the idea that political struggles could be illuminated through the concept of the struggle for existence. Per social Darwinism, the biological struggle for existence manifests itself socially, and those who are politically powerful are those who are most powerful in biological and social terms. Most generally, early social Darwinism encompassed biological justifications for laissez-faire economics and imperialism. In this way, social Darwinists claimed, the relationship between biology and politics was direct and easily observable. However, rather than solving the question of how biology and politics were related, social Darwinism merely sparked new questions.
There were many responses that speculated on the biology of politics, and two of the most prominent responses came from T.H. Huxley and Peter Kropotkin. Both were biologists, and both accepted biological evolution and the struggle for existence as facts of life. Furthermore, both were politically active, and both were highly respected as political commentators. Huxley served as scientific consultant on a number of Royal Commissions, and directly influenced government policy in England. Kropotkin spearheaded the philosophy of anarcho-communism, and influenced many tens-of-thousands of supporters, across tens of countries.
However, though both were eminent biologists and political actors, and though they agreed on the facts of evolution and the struggle for existence, they strongly disagreed on the implications of biology for politics. Based on his biological studies and social experiences, Huxley rejected social Darwinist ideas per se, but concluded social inequality is a fact of life because of biological conditions; "The doctrine that all men are, in any sense, or have been, at any time, free and equal, is an utterly baseless fiction." Contrary to this, Kropotkin rejected both social Darwinism and the inescapability of social inequality, and concluded biological conditions produced in humans a "sense of justice, or equity, which brings the individual to consider the rights of every other individual as equal to his own."
Both Kropotkin and Huxley had extensive biological knowledge and political experience, both renounced social Darwinist ideas, and both expounded on the implications of evolution for the possibilities of human politics. Here the question arises: how was it that these two men, who agreed in much of their biology, could arrive at diametrically opposing political conclusions, having both started from the fact of evolution and the renunciation of social Darwinism?
Here we shall endeavour to unpack the relationship between Huxley's and Kropotkin's biological and political beliefs. We shall not evaluate the truth of their political claims, but rather, we will study the method of their argumentation, what use they made of biological facts, and the process of reasoning by which they argued from biological premises to arrive at political conclusions. We will begin first with an examination of Huxley's appeals to biology in his political statements. We will then consider Kropotkin's statements, and his responses to Huxley's claims. Following this, we will investigate the form and content of Kropotkin's and Huxley's arguments, and attempt to uncover how they arrived at opposing politics, though they started from similar foundations. In closing, we will observe the relevance of our results to modern relations between biology and politics.
Observing Huxley's career as a whole, we find his political ideas developed alongside his biological beliefs, over many decades. Although Huxley's primary focus remained biology and science, he consistently showed concern for political issues, and accepted consulting positions on a number of Royal Commissions formed to discuss government policy. These Commissions covered issues ranging from fishing regulations to education and the advancement of science, and here Huxley drew on many different aspects of his expertise, including biology and politics.
Over time, Huxley found it increasingly necessary to exposit his views on the relationship between biology and politics, because the political climate of a country impacted its scientific advancement, and vice-versa. In this connection he stated: the "political problem of problems is how to deal with over-population, and it faces us on all sides." For Huxley, this problem was intimately tied to England's "internecine struggle for existence" in the economic sphere. In caching out his economic ideas, Huxley appealed to the theories of Malthus and Darwin, and he cast the survival ability of a society in terms of the biological struggle for resources. Resources were key, because Huxley believed England and other nations were facing over-population, and "One of the most essential conditions, if not the chief cause, of the struggle for existence, is the tendency to multiply without limit, which man shares with all living things."
In Huxley's eyes, the biologically motivated tendency to multiply without limit is a historical fact, and contributed to the downfall of many great civilizations:
Historians point to the greed and ambition of rulers, to the reckless turbulence of the ruled, to the debasing effects of wealth and luxury, and to the devastating wars which have formed a great part of the occupation of mankind, as the causes of the decay of states and the foundering of old civilizations, and thereby point their story with a moral. No doubt immoral motives of all sorts have figured largely among the minor causes of these events. But beneath all this superficial turmoil lay the deep-seated impulse given by unlimited multiplication. In the swarms of colonies thrown out by Phoenicia and by old Greece; in the ver sacrum of the Latin races; in the floods of Gauls and of Teutons which burst over the frontiers of tile old civilization of Europe; in the swaying to and fro of the vast Mongolian hordes in late times, the population problem comes to the front in a very visible shape.
For this reason, if England hoped to achieve stability at both the national and international levels, it had to overcome its own population problem. This meant the biologically induced struggle for existence had to be taken into account when forming both internal (national) policy and foreign policy.
Furthermore, it was important that policy makers understand that the struggle for existence arose from the biologically based "inequality of man." By humankind's inherently "natural inequality," humans were divided into two main categories: "the ethical man -- the member of society or citizen," and "the non-ethical man -- the primitive savage, or man as a mere member of the animal kingdom." Crucial here was that the "primitive savage" occurred not only in wild environs. On the contrary, because of the natural inequality of man, and the inability of society to prompt all citizens to move beyond a life "in which the pleasures within reach are reduced to bestiality and drunkenness," it is inevitable that some citizens retain or bend towards the mentality of the primitive savage. In every nation, no matter how great, "a certain proportion ... constantly tend to establish and populate ... a Slough of Despond."
For Huxley, such a Slough is inescapable, because it is a necessary by-product of evolution. The biological struggle for existence expresses itself socially, politically, and economically, and in economic terms the "inequality of individual ownership has grown out of the relative equality of communal ownership in virtue of those natural inequalities of men, which, if unimpeded by circumstances, cannot fail to give rise quietly and peaceably to corresponding political inequalities." Thus political and economic inequalities were the consequence of biological inequalities, and insofar as inequality arose "only from such [biological] causes, its existence may and must be patiently borne," because one could not escape the conditions of nature.
However, though Huxley believed inequality was a permanent feature of politics because it was a fact of biology, he believed it was also important that societies ensure inequality never reach such a level that the "animal man ... resumes his ancient sovereignty" over the mentality of the poor. If the resurgence of animal man was permitted, and occurred on too large a scale, then natural man (that is, "primitive" man) qua poor "animal" citizens would forget the rules of sociability, and plunge all of society into "the brute struggle for existence once again." This risk remained "so long as the natural man increases and multiplies without restraint" -- hence: the biologically born "political problem of problems is how to deal with over-population."
Huxley's answer to this problem of problems lay in the study of biology and prehistory. Per Huxley, the relics of prehistory provide clear evidence that "for thousands and thousands of years, before the origin of the oldest known civilizations, men were savages of a very low type." These savages struggled against each other, and other animals; "they preyed upon things weaker or less cunning than themselves; they were born, multiplied without stint, and died, for thousands of generations alongside the mammoth, the urus, the lion, and the hyaena." "Life was a continual free fight" and "the Hobbesian war of each against all was the normal state of existence. The human species, like others ... floundered amid the general stream of evolution," which was awash in blood. Under these conditions "those who were best fitted to cope with their circumstances" survived. Such was the biologically regulated history of natural man. However, the "history of civilization -- that is, of society -- on the other hand, is the record of the attempts which the human race has made to escape from this position." But it was not simply that the "civilized man has reached this point," such an "assertion is perhaps too broad and general." To be specific, the "ethical man has attained thereto."
Huxley then combined this assertion (that ethical men enabled all humanity to rise above the war of each against all) with the claim that humanity was divided into two main categories ("ethical man" and "natural man") and his belief that natural man could not restrain his impulse to multiply, and arrived at a political solution to manage the biological problem of over-population: placing those who are "ethically the best" in control of society. Only the ethical man could devote "his best energies to the object of setting limits to the struggle" for existence. The key issue here was that the Slough of Despond is unavoidable, and limits on the struggle for existence can only be maintained so long as the Slough does not grow too large.
Luckily, "the power of natural history was illustrated by examples of recent applications of that science in opening up sources of industrial wealth." Which is to say, England's industrial wealth has been improved by the application of scientific knowledge. Accepting this, science should be taught to everyone, and industry should be managed by those most proficient in science -- the exemplary ethical men. With those who are ethically best at the helm, national industries can apply the most advanced production techniques, and sell the best possible products at the lowest possible costs. This form of political economy was later dubbed "technocracy," and Huxley believed a hierarchically organized technocracy would enable England to sell its goods at lower prices than other nations and dominate in the realm of international exchange, and thus succeed in the international struggle for existence.
But because the "political problem of problems is ... over-population," England's ethical man leadership must keep an eye on the Slough of Despond, and maintain the proper balance between wages, product prices, profits, and population size. The need for profit meant the "rate of wages must be restricted within certain limits." That limit could not be too low, because workers must be "sufficiently remunerated" to remain "physically and morally healthy and socially stable." With this balance achieved, England could produce cheap products, while ensuring not too many of its workers gave into their animal man (because the animal man would "multiply without limit," enlarge the Slough of Despond, and plunge England into internal wars of struggling for existence), and the problem of over-population would be solved.
Thus we observe the role of biology in Huxley's politics. For Huxley, the biological imperative to multiply and the struggle for existence are facts of life, and both are evident in human prehistory and contemporary societies. Furthermore, biological processes produce natural inequalities in humans, and while most remain brutish, those who are well endowed can advance beyond their own brutishness, and also improve conditions for those who cannot. Those who are well endowed are the biologically select ethical men, who must be placed in control of politics and economics, in order that they can create a technocratic society. Such a society will succeed in the international struggle for existence by helping less well-endowed "natural" men sustain a mode of life that staves off their basal impulses, which natural man cannot do on his own.
With this overview of Huxley's biologically infused political claims in hand, let us now turn to an examination of Kropotkin's biologically imbued political claims, per his Mutual Aid: A Factor of Evolution.
Like Huxley, Kropotkin began with the struggle for existence, and he agreed with Huxley that individuals that developed the most profitable adaptations would be most likely to survive in the struggle for existence. However for Kropotkin, the most advantageous adaptations were not simply those that enhanced combative ability;
As soon as we study animals -- not in laboratories and museums only, but in the forest and the prairie, in the steppe and the mountains -- we at once perceive that though there is an immense amount of warfare and extermination going on amidst various species, and especially amidst various classes of animals, there is, at the same time, as much, or perhaps even more, of mutual support, mutual aid, and mutual defence amidst animals belonging to the same species or, at least, to the same society.
Kropotkin conceded "it would be extremely difficult to estimate, however roughly, the relative numerical importance of both these series of facts," but he stuck to his main line, "that those animals which acquire habits of mutual aid are undoubtedly the fittest." This is because animals that engage in mutual support, mutual aid, and mutual defence "have more chances to survive, and they attain, in their respective classes, the highest development of intelligence and bodily organization."
Contrary to Huxley's claim that the "war of each against all" was the norm in pre-civilized societies, Kropotkin claims when he studied nature he was unable to find "that bitter struggle for the means of existence, among animals belonging to the same species, which was considered ... the dominant characteristic of struggle for life, and the main factor of evolution." This biological observation is politically important, because Huxley claims the main factor of evolution is "the struggle for existence to the bitter end," and human "society differs from nature in having a definite moral object": overcoming the biological war of each against all.
In direct opposition to this, Kropotkin claims society is not somehow different from nature, because it is a part of nature. "Sociability is ... a law of nature," and the biological drive for "mutual aid is as much a law of animal life as mutual struggle." Moreover,
as a factor of evolution, it most probably has a far greater importance, inasmuch as it favours the development of such habits and characters as insure the maintenance and further development of the species, together with the greatest amount of welfare and enjoyment of life for the individual.
It is true the struggle for existence is biologically impelled, but this struggle is not a war of each against all. Instead, "the vast majority of species live in societies," and "they find in association the best arms for the struggle for life: understood, of course, in its wide Darwinian sense -- not as a struggle for the sheer means of existence, but as a struggle against all natural conditions unfavourable to the species." Although biology does drive animals to struggle against each other, it also drives them to combine with each other and struggle against the hardships of nature. Therefore, for Kropotkin, society and sociability are not uniquely human phenomena "in which man plays the part of immediate cause," as Huxley claims. Instead, they are general features of animal life.
In one respect, Kropotkin's claims regarding society and sociability jell with Huxley's, for both hold that "unsociable species ... are doomed to decay." However, while Huxley claims non-human animals could be sociable, he states it was the only with the arrival of the ethical man that mutual aid began. As discussed, Huxley's evidence for this claim is prehistoric relics, which he believes proves that "before the origin of the oldest known civilizations, men were savages of a very low type," and that "Life was a continual free fight." Kropotkin responds: "Of course, we have no direct evidence as to the modes of life of the first man-like beings. We are not yet settled even as to the time of their first appearance." But irrespective of this, prehistoric relics are unnecessary to the debate, because the observation of known history disproves Huxley's claims. If mutual struggle was the rule, then mutual destruction could have been the only outcome. Only "the practice of mutual aid and its successive developments" could "have created the very conditions of society life in which man was enabled to develop his arts, knowledge, and intelligence."
For Kropotkin, this is proven historically, because "the periods when institutions based on the mutual-aid tendency took their greatest development were also the periods of the greatest progress in arts, industry, and science." Furthermore,
the study of the inner life of the medieval city and of the ancient Greek cities reveals the fact that the combination of mutual aid, as it was practised within the guild and the Greek clan, with a large initiative which was left to the individual and the group by means of the federative principle, gave to mankind the two greatest periods of its history -- the ancient Greek city and the medieval city periods; while the ruin of the above institutions during the State periods of history, which followed, corresponded in both cases to a rapid decay.
So, not only does human history exhibit mutual aid as a primary factor in the advancement of human knowledge, human history also disproves the claim that human civilization was always a boon to human advancement. Civilizations and cultures struggled against each other, and this resulted in the destruction of the achievements of prior societies. This point is crucial in the formulation of Kropotkin's politics, and here it is worth quoting Kropotkin at length;
When the Mutual Aid institutions -- the tribe, the village community, the guilds, the medieval city -- began, in the course of history, to lose their primitive character, to be invaded by parasitic growths, and thus to become hindrances to progress, the revolt of individuals against these institutions took always two different aspects. Part of those who rose up strove to purify the old institutions, or to work out a higher form of commonwealth, based upon the same Mutual Aid principles; they tried, for instance, to introduce the principle of "compensation," instead of the lex talionis, and later on, the pardon of offences, or a still higher ideal of equality before the human conscience, in lieu of "compensation," according to class-value. But at the very same time, another portion of the same individual rebels endeavoured to break down the protective institutions of mutual support, with no other intention but to increase their own wealth and their own powers. In this three-cornered contest, between the two classes of revolted individuals and the supporters of what existed, lies the real tragedy of history.
Thus, for Kropotkin, the observation of wild animals and also human history proves it is not mutual struggle but mutual aid that is the primary biological factor that spurs the beneficial advancement of a species. Furthermore, with respect to human societies, it is critical to observe that the "Mutual Aid institutions" of bygone times were "invaded by parasitic growths" that broke the Mutual Aid institutions down, and turned them into nascent statist institutions. These institutions aggrandized themselves, and eventually society entered "State periods of history" that corresponded to a "rapid decay" in terms of sociability.
For this reason, Kropotkin claims the primary lesson history teaches is that society should eschew statism (state-based political structures), and organize into a decentralized federation of autonomous communities. Each community should be independent, and fully managed by local residents, who offer each other mutual aid. Although individual communities should be independent, they should not be isolated but embrace interdependence, and engage in mutual economic and political exchange and support.
At the level of politics then, Kropotkin's conclusions run exactly counter to Huxley's, and seeing now the remarkable divergence between the politics of these two biologists, the question remains: how did they arrive at opposing conclusions, though both started from the basic biological facts of evolution and the struggle for existence?
As the above outlines of Huxley and Kropotkin's biological-political arguments show, the key to their diverging conclusions lies in their methodology. Where Kropotkin approached both biology and human society empirically and scientifically, Huxley approached biology empirically and scientifically, but believed ethical men created society and it was necessary "to distinguish those parts of nature in which man plays the part of immediate cause, as some thing apart; and, therefore, society ... is usefully to be considered as distinct from nature." For Huxley, there is a discontinuity between nature and society, and it is not possible to study human society using the same mode of investigation we apply to nature. The question then becomes: was Huxley right?
Here it is instructive to consider Huxley's own statements on the nature of reasoning and knowledge, and deduction and argumentation. At the highest level of generality, Huxley proclaims that "For the successful carrying on of the business of life, no less than for the pursuit of science, it is essential that the mind should easily and accurately perform the four great intellectual processes of observation, experiment, induction, and deduction." These four processes constitute the method of scientific investigation, and, per Huxley "The man of science has learned to believe in justification, not by faith, but by verification," regardless of the subject being studied. He emphasizes this repeatedly; "from the dawn of exact knowledge to the present day, observation, experiment, and speculation have gone hand in hand." Again: all laws that humans can discover can only be "obtained ... by a process of induction from observed facts."
With respect to induction and knowledge, Huxley's definition of the scientific method is in line with modern definitions. Additionally, modern epistemology theory agrees with Huxley that natural laws can only be uncovered by way of observation and induction. Hence, by Huxley' own lights, we must ask: do Huxley's biological-political claims meet his own criteria for arriving at justified beliefs and conclusions?
When considering Huxley's biological-political claims, we find they all fail at the first of his four steps: observation. Huxley's biological claims are backed by a wealth of observations, however his political claims include little or no observations, and this is problematic. If the empirical basis of biological knowledge is the close observation of biological organisms and processes over time, then the empirical basis of political knowledge is the close observation of humans and social interactions and processes over time -- that is, the study of history. This is not to say that some set of historical facts will always give rise to the same political conclusions, but rather, when constructing a political argument, it is crucial that the argument present and analyze relevant historical and social interactions and processes.
It is necessary to note that Huxley's biological-political arguments do include historical claims, but here it is important to distinguish speculation from observation. Huxley claims, for example, that prehistoric relics prove pre-civilized humans were savages, and that civilization is the force that drives social progress and cultural advancement. As Kropotkin notes however, it is impossible to deduce definite conclusions about society and sociability from relics alone, and we cannot prove the assertion Huxley makes about pre-civilized human cultures. Further, contrary to Huxley's assertion, it is an accepted historical fact that less-cultured civilizations have toppled and replaced highly cultured civilizations, imposing great suffering on the citizens of the civilization being toppled, and causing humanity writ large to suffer the loss of artistic and intellectual works. Thus, civilization has not always been the force that drives social progress and cultural advancement, and Huxley's claim is a demonstrably false speculation, rather than a historically grounded observation. Ultimately, Huxley's combination of biological observations with historical speculations leads him to deduce untenable political conclusions. Huxley's biological-political arguments are overly speculative and unscientific, because they are historically non-empirical.
Additionally, Huxley's speculations are incomplete. If, as Huxley claims, pre-civilized life "was a continual free fight," and "those who were best fitted to cope with their circumstances, but not the best in any other sense, survived," how could the "ethical" man ever arise? Huxley discusses this question, but does not present a conclusive response. Nowhere does he present a cogent biological or historical explanation for the arrival or superiority of ethical man, as compared to the natural man. This is significant, because Huxley's entire political program rests on the advent of the ethical man, and the natural man's acceptance of his rule.
Further to this, Huxley repeatedly claims an ethically advanced subset of humans created society, and "society differs from nature in having a definite moral object." As Kropotkin notes however, society is not simply a product of human will, but a result of natural and biological conditions; "Society has not been created by man; it is anterior to man." This is critical, because Huxley effectively argues the first human societies were intelligently designed by ethical men, and in this way he commits the fallacy of (what we shall refer to as) political creationism. This aspect of Huxley's argument is particularly deleterious, because Huxley was well aware the scientific method is apposite to all physical knowledge, including history, and he was personally involved in a debate with creationists, precisely because he hoped to overturn unscientific claims.
There are many parallels between Huxley's political creationism and theological creationism, and perhaps the most significant is theodicy, explaining the problem of suffering. Where theology explains human suffering is an esoteric feature of God's plan, Huxley explains that socioeconomic suffering is the consequence of biological inequality (expressed bodily in terms of physical and psychical fitness), and this means the suffering manifest in human societies "must be patiently borne." Huxley is certainly in the right when noting we have no choice other than to bear the structures of nature. He does not however prove the structures of society must be patiently borne. Instead, he asserts his own political theodicy; just as all humans must bear the mysteries of God's plans, so must lesser humans bear the plans of ethical humans.
Further, the issue of Huxley's political creationism is germane to Kropotkin's political program, because Kropotkin argues for an anti-statist organization of society: much as Huxley struggled to overturn the received wisdom of creationism, Kropotkin faced the Herculean task of overturning the received wisdom of statism. Like the arguments in support of creationism, the arguments in support of statism evolved over many centuries, and came to possess a strong hold on the minds of billions of people whose lives are defined by the relationships and institutions of state societies. This yields a powerful unconscious bias towards statism, and gives statist ideologies a powerful predominance over non-statism.
This is not to claim Kropotkin's political claims were correct or unassailable (as noted, we are not evaluating the truth of Kropotkin's and Huxley's political conclusions), or that political norms can easily be derived from empirical observations or biological facts. One may dispute both Kropotkin's and Huxley's conclusions, however what is important is that Kropotkin's method is scientific and historical while Huxley's is neither. Although Huxley includes appeals to biology in his political arguments, his appeals are not empirically connected to his political conclusions. Huxley does not include historical facts, and makes historical claims that have no empirical basis. Unlike Huxley, Kropotkin makes close studies of biology and history that are firmly rooted in observation and empirical study, after which he presents political conclusions. The point here is that method and rigour are important, and just as Darwin showed there is another option to creationism -- natural selection -- Kropotkin showed there is another option to political statism -- anarcho-communism. Additionally, Kropotkin noted that something like anarcho-communism actually existed prior to statism, and it bore great cultural fruits.
The debate between Huxley and Kropotkin remains relevant because modern commentators continue to construct political arguments that reference biological theories, and because the relationship between biology and politics remains fraught with epistemological and logical questions. Still today we find biological-political arguments that mirror the methodologies of Huxley and Kropotkin -- and what is more, we continue to find a plethora of appeals to social Darwinism. By examining Huxley's and Kropotkin's responses to social Darwinism, and by studying the unscientific reasoning of Huxley's argumentation and the scientific reasoning of Kropotkin, modern commentators might avoid some of the problems Huxley could not.
Although we remain unable to fully elaborate the relationship between biology and politics, there are at least two conclusions about their relationship we can be reasonably certain in. First, human history and politics are inextricably bound to human biology and thus evolution. Second, even though political knowledge is more tenuous than biological knowledge, both biology and politics are based on physical realities, and political argumentation is no less subject to the strictures of evidence and right thinking than biological argumentation, and therefore both must appeal to the scientific method in order to obtain justified beliefs.
What force the words of
with tribute gone, and
Still, petty lords aim trash
and ply the beast with
Then filled with spite, all turn
Theirs not to love, but feast
What are the foundations of mathematics? Early answers to this question were closely related to geometry, and historically, the philosophy of mathematics and the mathematics of geometry maintained a unique connection for more than two thousand years. During this period absolute certainty reigned, and here we shall survey major developments in the evolution of geometry and metamathematics in relation to certitude. We will begin with the origins of the belief in mathematical certainty in Classical Greece, then survey its connection to science through to the seventeenth-century. In closing, we will examine the decline of certainty in the early nineteenth-century, when the discovery of non-Euclidean geometry forced uncertainty on to mathematics and philosophy.
Perhaps the first inquiry in to mathematical foundations was by the Greek philosopher Thales (c. 624 - 547 BCE). Thales saw that in counting and measuring, the practices of unconnected regions coincided, and the practices of one region applied to others. This coincidence enabled different groups to make calculations in the same way, for example when working with physical spaces that approximated elementary mathematical shapes, such as rectangular grain fields. Observing that geographically diverse peoples treated numbers and numeric operations similarly, Thales asked: why?
The practices Thales observed had developed independently, but appeared to share the same general form, and to be generally applicable and accurate, and this was a remarkable fact when compared to the non-generality of other regional practices, for example in politics and religion. In attempting to account for his observations, Thales approached his explanation empirically and universally, and his mode of explanation differed dramatically from the prevalent mode of explanation, which was pre-deductive (and which we refer to as pre-deductive precisely because of the power and prevalence of deduction, after Thales).
Pre-deductive discourse, as seen for example in the religious texts of Thales' era, presented claims in a de facto manner, and presented idealized assertions and idealized consequences, while Thales attempted to arrive at conclusions about observations, and also inquired about the very basis of his observations. Thales was therefore grasping towards a new mode of discourse that we might describe as proto-deductive.
Owing to the nature of his investigations, Thales introduced the term "geometry," meaning "earth measurement," in reference to land plotting and similar activities. The term "mathematics" meaning "knowledge," was introduced after Thales by his mathematical successors, the Pythagoreans. With respect to metamathematics, the origin of these terms is important, being an indicator of the reason geometry and mathematics came to be well-defined fields of inquiry. Geometry arose to organize regionally diverse but conceptually united practices, and approached the real world in terms of magnitudes, and elementary operations that related those magnitudes; and mathematics arose to treat of magnitudes and operations more generally.
Enthralled by the incredible utility and uniformity of mathematics, the Pythagoreans developed a mystical belief system based on the idea that mathematical associations were the framework within which the physical world unfolded. In their framework the concept of number was central, and the Pythagoreans equated math and numbers with metaphysical genesis, as can be seen from one of their oaths; "Bless us, divine number, thou who generates gods and men!"
The Pythagoreans made a number of discoveries that correlated nature closely with mathematics, such as the discovery that musical harmonies may be represented in terms of whole number ratios. This provided fodder for the idea that mathematics was not merely the prism through which nature could be understood, but that nature was mathematics; that "all things are numbers." This metamathematical idea led the Pythagoreans to categorize nature hierarchically, such that math was the source of the universe, and expressed itself in terms of the discrete and the continuous, where the discrete gave rise to the absolute (arithmetic) and the relative (music), and the continuous gave rise to the static (geometry) and the moving (astronomy). Mathematics was the fountainhead, prior to both "gods and men," and generated and organized all of nature; an important claim, because it made mathematics more basic than gods, and was therefore connected to Thales' reasoning process, in that both reassessed religious thinking.
In sum, Thales considered the practices of mathematics generally, and approached math in a way that prefigured deduction, and the Pythagoreans took the universality of mathematics to indicate that the universe was identifiable with mathematics. Thus, mathematical practices had directly spurred metaphysical reflections, and those reflections yielded metamathematical conclusions that led to realignments in existing philosophies. Although claims that appealed to God in pre-deductive modes of explanation still dominated, by the era of the Pythagoreans they were increasingly challenged by mathematical considerations.
Like the Pythagoreans, the Greek philosopher Plato (c. 424 - 347 BCE) believed mathematics was fundamental to being, however, unlike the Pythagoreans, Plato did not believe a hierarchy of categories such as the discrete and continuous captured the foundations of mathematics. For Plato, mathematics existed in the eternal world of Forms, while humans lived in the temporal world, in an ever-changing process of becoming. The Forms effected the universe, and the universe's physical forms were constantly undergoing change, and because of this the real world presented only a shadow of the Forms to humans, meaning humans had limited access to the perfect Forms of mathematics. Mathematics did underpin nature, but natural sensations presented nature and math to humans incompletely.
Because mathematical Forms existed independently of human experience and could not be properly perceived via the senses, Plato eschewed the incompleteness of sensation, turned inwards, and concluded true knowledge of the Forms was to be achieved through cogitation. Because mathematics transcended human experience, it was a natural truth that could be established by transcendent thought. Thus, Plato accepted the Pythagorean belief in mathematics as a basic reality that exists independently of humans, and combined it with Thales' concern for understanding the connections between ideas in a universally consistent manner.
Responding to Plato's metamathematical deliberations, his student Aristotle (384-322 BCE) took up the project of formalizing Thales' reasoning procedure, and elaborated on the relationship between claims and conclusions, and denied that mathematical truth corresponded to the contemplation of ideal mathematical Forms. For Aristotle, Forms inhered within physical existence, and the foundation of mathematics was forms inhering in the world. True mathematics were indeed arrived at by reasoning, however reasoning was to be based on observations of the Forms in nature, rather than arguing from purely intellective premises about the Forms. Physical experience was the foundation for arriving at accurate mathematics: observing the world, analyzing those observations generally, and categorizing those analyses produced truth. Only thus could humans draw objective and accurate conclusions about the mathematical Forms.
Building on the work of Thales, the Pythagoreans, Plato, and Aristotle (and others), the Greek expositor Euclid (c. 300 BCE) set forth in his Elements a series of mathematical proofs using the recently developed logico-deductive format, beginning with mathematical axioms and postulates, combining these with mathematical rules, and setting out the conclusions that followed from these combinations.
In the Elements, Euclid exhibited the mathematics of his era, which were primarily concerned with geometrical results, by taking mathematical truths that were seemingly self-evident, and using precise, repeatable procedures, that any reader could reapply to develop the exact same theorems. Metamathematically, the Elements is important philosophically and historically, because if its reader accepted the mathematical axioms and operations as defined within -- as they apparently had to -- they were also forced to accept its conclusions. For this reason, the Elements possessed a finished quality; there was no room for further development of the theorems laid out, because none found a reason to disagree with them. Hence, in a sense, the Elements completed the project Thales' started, in its development and presentation of an apparently universally applicable and accurate mathematics.
Mathematics, then, was not seen like other subjects such as politics and religion, which permitted contention and ceaseless disputation and were therefore a collection of claims that were in at least some degree vague or indefinite. It seemed that in mathematics, one observed reality as it was, by universally proving the validity of a theorem. All observers could reproduce a theorem, and thus be certain they shared in the knowable reality of that theorem in exactly the same way as all other observers.
Therefore, as the end of Classical Greek civilization approached, mathematics was regarded as a domain that advanced certain knowledge, because of the metamathematical belief that math's foundations were perfectly natural, and that math's theorems were equivalent to natural relations, as revealed through systematic observation and testable manipulation.
The enduring power of this metamathematical certitude was captured in the results of the Greek mathematician Archimedes (c. 287 - 212 BCE), who combined physical motion with mathematics in such an innovative and lasting manner that many regard his proper intellectual successor to be Isaac Newton (1642 - 1727 CE). Addressing the ancient problem of squaring the circle, Archimedes provided an extraordinary geometric solution that synthesized circular and linear motions. Although these motions were acceptable in Euclidean geometry their synthesis was unprecedented, and though Archimedes' results were not strictly Euclidean, they were rigorous and had all the certainty of a Euclidean result.
This was of singular importance in the history of metamathematics, for after Euclid and Archimedes, the development of geometry, and advances in the investigation of metamathematical certainty languished, for nearly two millennia. Looking forward, we find it was not until the seventeenth-century that new and significant progress occurred in the study of geometry; and, pursuant to the progress of geometry, it was only in the eighteenth-century that significant progress occurred in the study of the foundations of mathematics.
With respect to geometry, the objective of Galileo Galilei (1564 - 1642 CE) was to apprehend the algebra of objects moving in space. In Particular, Galileo's goal was to determine which properties of natural objects and motion could be measured and related to each other mathematically. Accordingly, he came to focus on physical features such as weight, velocity, acceleration, and force. Investigating the foundations of mathematics was not one of Galileo's direct concerns, as he noted in his Discourses and Mathematical Demonstrations Concerning Two New Sciences (1638); "The cause of the acceleration of the motion of falling bodies is not a necessary part of the investigation."
Nonetheless, though Galileo aimed at practical explanations and not foundational ones, he did comment on natural philosophers that developed systems based on mere argumentation, rather than systems based on physical experimentation. Importantly, though Galileo was catholic, and his metamathematics reflected his metaphysics -- God was the basis of existence, and therefore math -- Galileo felt God had no immediate place in physical explanations of the world, because "the universe ... is written in the language of mathematics, and its characters are triangles, circles, and other geometric figures." Proportionately, nature was revealed to humanity by direct study of the world, rather than otherworldly speculation.
This practical bent was shaped by Galileo's metamathematical belief that there was a fundamental difference between idealizing on the one hand, and measuring and then idealizing on the other. In terms of historical continuity, the importance of Galileo was that he took up the methods of Aristotle and Euclid, and picked up the physically oriented studies of Archimedes, in order to develop mathematical equations that correlated natural properties to natural regularities.
In connection to foundations, René Descartes (1596 - 1650 CE) agreed that God was the source of reality and the designer of mathematics, and that God was the reason humanity was able to perceive truths about reality. For Descartes, the fact that God had designed reality mathematically was evident in the patterns we observed, and, as a perfect being, God presented patterns to humans only if they represented truth, and therefore we could be sure of our observations.
Like Plato, Descartes posited a world of perfection that was partially accessible via the senses, and like Aristotle and Galileo, Descartes believed sense datum should be analyzed to arrive at true mathematical theorems. Combining natural patterns with intellective analysis, Descartes associated the properties of lines and points with the symbolic mode of representation, and revolutionized the study of nature by introducing the concepts of variable magnitude and coordinate geometry -- the latter having also been developed by Pierre de Fermat (c. 1607 - 1665 CE), independently of Descartes.
Using Euclidean theorems as a basis, coordinate geometry correlated geometric properties to general algebraic statements that related those properties, and defined curves using symbolic relations. Like the equations of Galileo, coordinate geometry tied physical phenomena to quantitative relations, and, when taken altogether, the works of Galileo, Descartes, and Fermat redefined both the purpose and content of natural philosophy, by grounding it in mathematics. This was a new science imbued with a new type of certainty, based on the authority of God through the certainty of his mathematics.
Adopting both the foundations and practices of the new science, Isaac Newton (1642 - 1727 CE) also maintained that God was the foundation of the universe, and therefore mathematics. In contrast to Galileo and Descartes however, Newton's religion was primary, and was a personal motivation for his mathematical work.
Like Galileo and Descartes, Newton regarded his mathematical intuitions and discoveries as confirmation of his religious ideals, and like Galileo, Newton's emphasis was practical. Building on coordinate geometry, Galileo's studies of motion, and Descartes' conception of variable magnitude, Newton developed the calculus, which approached a curve as a flowing quantity that moved across time, thus defining a close relationship between time and motion. The calculus was a sort of procedural algebra that could be used to manage and understand relations between changing variables, per real world examples such as planetary orbits. For Newton, the harmony of his algebraic mechanics with real world mechanics demonstrated that the universe proceeded along its course mathematically, and the calculus was a testament to its supernatural designer.
Motivated by religion and drawing religious conclusions from his science, Newton's mentality was reminiscent of the Pythagoreans, and his esoteric declarations and studies mark him as somewhat of a mathematical mystic. This fact is easily understandable, in reference to the historical milieu he lived in, but salient metamathematically, because for Newton, Galileo, Descartes, Fermat, and a preponderance of their contemporaries, there was an essential accord between the qualities of God and the quantitative relations of mathematics.
Considering the transformation of natural philosophy from the period beginning immediately before Galileo, and ending with Newton, we observe that science underwent a mathematical reformulation. Before Galileo, natural philosophers concerned themselves with testing ideas against other ideas. By the time of Newton, scientific investigations were concerned with scrutinizing experience, and collating results mathematically. This was crucial in the history of metamathematics, because with the advent of Galileo's equations of motion, Descartes' and Fermat's coordinate geometry, the calculus, and Newtonian mechanics, the goal of science became aligned with the early mathematical goal of defining axioms that were self-evident. Much like Euclid's Elements, if one accepted the physical axioms and postulates of science as well as the rules and equations that related them -- as they apparently had to -- they were also forced to accept the conclusions of science. Unlike the controversies permitted by natural philosophy before Galileo, the experiments and conclusions of science were now repeatable and testable, and there was an air of inevitability and certainty about the new science, because it presented a universally applicable physics based on a universally applicable mathematics. With respect to its algebraic and geometric foundations, there appeared to be no room for disagreement, whether mathematical or metamathematical, because through science mathematics clearly represented nature.
The new science (specifically the calculus), was in fact attacked, on religious grounds, by the influential philosopher George Berkeley (1685 - 1753 CE), the Bishop of Cloyne, in Ireland. However, Berkeley's attack yielded no immediate metamathematical consequences, and this is relevant because the incredible practical utility of algebra and geometry in science continued to be interpreted as proof positive of the correctness of mathematics, and its foundation, God.
The next major development that concerned the relationship between geometry and the foundations of mathematics was the philosophy of Immanuel Kant (1724 - 1804 CE), whose epistemology maintained the content of mathematics, but radically altered its foundations. For Kant, the essence of mathematics was not simply nature as it is, because nature as it is, is unknowable for humans. Human minds possess an architecture that systematizes observations and perceptions by its own internal rules, rather than apprehending the foundations of the universe, and we can never know a thing in itself, independent of our mental architecture. That architecture is natural, but it is does not capture nature, and the well-ordered certainty of math and mathematical science arises from the prescripts of the mind, which include a non-empirical form of knowledge about temporality and spatiality, which we express in the form of our self-evident axioms of mathematics. Geometry and therefore mathematical science were not valid because they were built on proper observation and reflection, but because they rested atop valid spatio-temporal intuitions.
Here, Kant vouchsafed the soundness of Euclidean geometry in a new way, and united his philosophy of mind with Euclid's axioms, postulates, and theorems. Not long after Kant passed away however, this aspect of Kantian philosophy and the long-standing certainty of Euclidean geometry were invalidated by the discovery of non-Euclidean geometries, when it was realized the Euclidean system was not the one system, but only one system among many.
In the first half of the nineteenth-century, János Bolyai (1802 - 1860 CE) and Nikolay Lobachevsky (1792 - 1856 CE) independently demonstrated geometries that were consistent, and did not respect Euclid's fifth postulate, that;
"If a straight line incident to two straight lines has interior angles on the same side of less than two right angles, then the extension of these two lines meets on that side where the angles are less than two right angles."
Contrary to the fifth postulate, Bolyai's and Lobachevsky's geometries permitted the construction of multiple "parallel" lines for any given line through a given point. This can be seen, for example, by considering a plane in the shape of a circle, thus enabling one to draw an arc line across the diameter of the circle, and then selecting a point inside the circle that is not on the diameter line, such that numerous lines pass through that point, on angles such that these lines never meet the diameter, because all lines are terminated by the boundary of the circle.
The existence and features of non-Euclidean geometries completely undermined metamathematical certainty, and foisted uncertainty on all scientific and metaphysical suppositions that rested on mathematics. This sparked vigorous attempts to retrieve certainty, including many non-geometric programs such as logicism and formalism, all aimed at rigorously explicating and certifying the foundations of mathematics. Ultimately however, the long-term result of these efforts was only to further separate mathematics from certainty in unexpected ways, and this gave rise to the post-modern perception of mathematics as rooted in reality and internally cohesive, but not certain in any absolute physical or metaphysical sense.
Reflecting on the rise and fall of certainty in geometry and metamathematics from Thales to Lobachevsky, we see that when mathematics first arose it was taken straightforwardly, as a practical device that solved problems in the real world. In prehistory and Classical history, mathematics was approached as a device that simply was and simply worked, much like a door or field plough. When Thales took up mathematics however, he latched on the fact that mathematics was not quite like other devices, and he observed its physical manifestations, and speculated on it supra-physically. This mode of speculation was instrumental in generating Classical Greek metaphysics, and culminated in the logico-deductive method, and the incredibly powerful Euclidean system.
The Euclidean system reigned with certainty for millennia, and though mathematics continued to evolve, and explanations for its certainty changed, the fact of certainty remained. Attempts to explain the basis and correctness of mathematics ranged from Forms and God, to nature and mental architectonics, but even though metamathematical claims varied, mathematical claims did not. Whatever its metamathematics, mathematics itself was absolutely accurate.
The discovery of non-Euclidean geometries instantly destroyed the possibility of absolute mathematical certainty, and this is an extraordinary fact, because for millennia brilliant mathematicians were exactly wrong in their metamathematical certitude. Looking back to the end of certainty, it appears certainty was as much a goal as a hypothesized feature of mathematics; that mathematicians undertook mathematics because they wanted to work with something that was guaranteed.
At a fundamental level, the rise and subsequent fall of mathematical certainty was central to the philosophical and scientific recognition of human fallibility. Today it is believed that nature exists, but because of the peculiarities of our experience of it, there always remains the possibility that our metamathematical and metaphysical claims are inaccurate and perhaps entirely false. Thus, the end of mathematical certainty has given rise to a new kind of certainty, that regardless of its foundations, mathematics remains the most powerful tool humans possess for mediating between themselves and nature, and that the development of mathematics enables us to expose falsities -- such as the absolute certainty of mathematics -- and thus allows us to work towards the refinement and extension of better justified, if not certain beliefs.