27 August 2009

Clarifying Chesterton

So, I have many excuses for not posting much in the last week or so. But the one I'll use is this: it's not easy to speak more clearly than G.K. Chesterton!

Anyway, here's my attempt to describe what I think Chesterton means when he says the first principle of democracy, i.e., the common good, is: "that the things common to all men are more important than the things peculiar to any men."

Let me take a few examples, and see if that helps clarify things. How about 1) air, 2) a pair of glasses, and 3) the English language.

Air. We all breathe. This is not an option for us. Part of being human is breathing, and when we cease to breathe we also cease to live a human life. So air is good for us, and is good for all of us, and is good for each of us. This need for air is something that we all have in common, and therefore that none of us can own or claim exclusively. The atmosphere is a resource for all humanity.

Now, imagine a scuba diver. There is a sense in which the air in (flipping a coin for gender: male) his tank is "his own". But let's say he comes across another diver whose tank has sprung a leak, while our diver's tank is quite full. It would be inhumane for our diver to deny "his" air to the drowning diver. The air is not "his" in the sense that he can, in time of need, claim it exclusively or bargain with it economically. It is a good that belongs to the human nature we all share in common, and so it is far more important than, say, the flippers that the divers are wearing, or the color of their wetsuits.

Glasses. I have worn glasses since about fourth grade, if my memory is correct. I've worn them so long that I think my face looks funny without them, and so do most of my friends. (Some friends think my face looks funny with them, too, but that's another issue.) But these glasses really are mine, not just because I own them, but because they are made particularly for me and won't work properly for anybody else. And this is an amazing thing.

However, far more amazing than my glasses is the miracle of sight itself. That we are able to receive light and interpret it into an accurate portrayal of the world around us is something to be wondered at. It is something to be delighted in. So the whole human race seeks out visions of art or nature that delight the eyes ... and the other senses as well. This is something so basically human that we recognized blindness as a tragedy and deficiencies in vision as a medical problem requiring correction. In short, vision is something common and basic to human life and human society, while my glasses are a particular accommodation that really doesn't belong to anyone else, and, for that matter, that I wouldn't desire for anyone else.

English. I've spoken and read and written English for as long as I can remember. I literally cannot recall learning to read; the ability is part of my earliest memories. For several of my friends, English is a second (or third, or fourth) language. I expect this is true for some readers of this blog. However, for those living in Great Britain or any of the former colonies of the British Empire, English is not only a means of communication but a means of cultural connection. Certain words stir up associations -- humorous or patriotic or vulgar -- and we guess at where each other is from by our accents.

(Can you guess where I'm from?)

This is true of other languages, too, of course. Language itself is, again, something common to all humanity. And, while there is no single "human language" that is common to every one of us, we all would consider it a crime deny anyone the ability to use language. More than that, we would consider it insane to deny anyone the language that others around them use, that is, to deny them the means to communicate with their fellow human beings. So language is common to all people, but it is never something that we can hold abstractly: in fact, it is only by holding some particular language (be it English or Arabic or Chinese) in common with others, with a community, that we can have language at all.

In other words, the only way for some things to be good for me is for them to first be good for everybody, for the whole community. And that, I think, is what is meant by the "common good".

Do let me know if I've only muddied the waters further.

2 comboxers:

Amy said...

LOL - Well your writing is much clearer than Chesterons *and* you're using headings for the MTV impaired among us. (Thank you,thank you, thank you)

But I still don't get it.

Sure, there are experiences we all share as part of being human. Whether they are good or bad is a judgment call. Air is good for you until it's polluted, and then it's bad.

When I encounter the idea of common good, I'm thinking of Spock in Star Trek. (Yes, it always comes back to Star Trek...) To summarize: the needs of the many out weigh the needs of the one. For instance, a local factory might like to pollute for it's own good, but the common good demands that it not pollute the river on which several communities depends.

And what this has to do with democracy I'm not sure, because the whole concept demands that an individual human being has value, beyond their contribution of to the herd.

I'm just so confused... ;)

Unknown said...

The term "common good" is used in two very different ways. Robert is using it in the older way (as used by Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas, and by many Catholic natural law theorists today).

Amy is using it in the modern sense, which is the only sense I had ever heard of until I studied some natural law theory.

In the modern sense, the common good means that society and/or the government should strive for "the greatest good for the greatest number". That's the basic utilitarian rule.

Spock's quote is a not-very-well phrased attempt to summarize the utilitarian rule. When an ambulance is speeding to the hospital with a critically ill patient, they are putting the needs of one (the patient) above the needs of the many (hundreds of drivers who are being inconvenienced). By Spock's phrasing, this is bad, because the needs of the one are being given precedence. But by the real utilitarian rule, this is a good thing, because the greatest good is being achieved (saving one life is more valuable than a hundred traffic delays).

Even so, the utilitarian view is ultimately wrong, because it fails to recognize that there can be moral absolutes. For example, it is wrong to torture, even if it benefits the many. But that's another story....