Sam Littlefair

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Photography

Lanzarote

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canaries-12.jpeg
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Hills in the Canary Islands.
Tags
  • photography
  • travel

Claire and I went to Lanzarote in the Canary Islands for the holidays. Lanzarote is a volcanic island, with a beautiful barren landscape.

We had a relaxing week at a resort. The beach was populated with very friendly stray cays.

We took one day to roadtrip around the island.

Our first stop was at the volcano, which last erupted in the 1700s.

Then we visited some of the beautiful small towns.

Finally, we drove to the northern tip of the island for a stunning panorama.

Florence

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umbrellas-notre-dame.jpeg
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Two men in trench coats with umbrellas looking at Notre Dame cathedral.
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  • photography

Fiorentinos have fashion. Their outfits cut dramatic silhouettes against the powdery stone buildings.

Two young men having a smoke

I can't tell expensive clothes from thrift-store rags, but whatever they're wearing, I think Fiorentinos wear it with confidence.

A man walking

I think people are beautiful by default, but I especially love some of these outfits.

A middle-aged couple wearing bright hats

I have taken fewer photos so far this year, because I don't have a convenient film lab. A few weeks ago, I left the house in the morning to take two rolls of film to the post office. I had a brand new roll in my camera.

An old man (blurry)

As I started walking around central Florence, I confidently shot passers by. I had a few errands to run, so I wound my way around the city center in a couple of loops. After an hour, I had already shot most of the roll, so I decided to do something I never normally do — finish the whole roll in one outing so I could add it to the envelope with the other two.

An old man looking at a dog

This is an expensive film stock: Kodak Portra 800. I got an Amazon gift card last year, and I spent it on five rolls of Portra on sale. It was a splurge, but I justified it as an education expense. Portra is a very fast, very sharp, very beautiful film. I knew it would help me gain confidence shooting strangers.

A shopkeeper in a market

The Portra let me shoot faster, wider photos that stay sharp even with a tight crop. As a result, my photos — which are already quite close for my comfort — can get even closer and more intimate.

A man in a town square

I love these encounters with people. The more photography I shoot, the more I want to honor these random strangers with my voyeuristic photos. I want to reveal how incredible ordinary people can be.

A bus driver

A good photo can make an ordinary person look larger than life. Because, in a sense, we are all larger than life. Every person is an epic tale — a myth.

A woman in a mink coat

I hope these photos just ask the question: who is this mythical person?

Reviews

The WEIRDest People in the World, by Joseph Henrich

Author
Joseph Henrich
Progress
100
Description
A book that dares to ask: what if there was one weird explanation for colonialism?
Finished
true
Tags
  • society
  • history

The Roman Catholic Church created the modern family through a long-term policy campaign aimed at dissolving the pre-Christian pagan tribal system. This is one of the most important movements in human history — the advent of the nuclear family (house, husband, wife, children).

By dissolving the kinship system, the church managed to insert itself in political and economic life across Europe. That is arguably how Christianity, an obscure Mediterranean cult, managed to unite the the European peninsula under the banner of Christendom.

In his book, The WEIRDest People in the World, Henrich tries to advance our understanding of this story by applying a psychologist's lens.

Unfortunately, I don't really believe that you can perform psychology on people who died 1000 years ago. It seems to me that you might as well take use your PhD to do psychotherapy with your cat.

However, that's not the biggest problem with TWPITW. More importantly, Henrich brand of cultural evolution (which seems like quack science to me) wades into very harmful territory around race and colonialism. Henrich buries anything that could be construed as racist deep in the book and couches it in academic theory, so I'm not sure if this was Henrich being clumsy or savvy.

Let's start by talking about how Henrich tries to do historical psychology. To that end, Henrich's book advances two key arguments:

  • The church's restructuring of European family life was based on an inborn psychological aversion to incest that all humans posess.

  • The effects of the church's family program were felt most strongly on the psychology of Europeans, and the global economic consequences (this military and economic rise of Europe) played out through psychological mechanism.

Let me break these two points down.

The Incest Taboo

First, is it true that people have an innate aversion to incest, which served as the basis for the church's family program? I don't believe this. I checked the bibliography and looked it up online and I didn't see a convincing citation for this one. It rests on some home-baked supposition. Humans and animals tend to avoid sibling incest, therefore we have a psychological aversion to incest. However, research shows that we are equally averse to sexual relations with anyone we grow up with. We can reinforce or overcome that aversion in many ways, especially social influences. Unfortunately, lots of people are in fact attracted to their siblings. This is verified by DNA tests, psychological studies, and the homepage of any porn site.

Cultural Psychology

Second, is it true that the effects of the church's family program played out primarily through psychology? Again, I don't think so. Historians understand that the end of European kinship pushed Europeans from communal political structures (like chiefdoms and clans) to commercial political structures (like manors and townships). The new commercial structures were more impersonal and individualistic. Henrich argues that this prompted a rise in discipline, patience, industriousness, open-mindedness, and fairness in Europeans, leading to the Renaissance, the Reformation, the Enlightenment, and the Industrial Revolution.

Henrich tries to frame this as a cute psychological quirk, emphasizing the acronym "W.E.I.R.D." to describe white people. But the acronym says a lot more:

  • Western

  • Education

  • Industrial

  • Rich

  • Democractic

The implication is that Westerners are rich because they possess a psychological propensity for education, industriousness, and democracy. And, inversely, the rest of the world is not rich because those countries don't have a psychological propensity for education, industriousness, and democracy. And the reason why the people in those countries are uneducated, lazy, and narrow-minded is because they marry their cousins.

Race

If you've read this far, you're probably assuming that I'm being unfair to Henrich, but this is actually a pretty direct summary of his argument, without embellishment. (I've worked hard to tone down my own editorializing.) Take it straight from the man's Twitter: "More cousin marriage, less democracy," he says in one tweet. In another, he says that cousin marriage "reduces economic prosperity around the globe."

And he says basically the same thing in the book, warning that "One of the greatest threats to the functioning of voluntary associations" (e.g. schools, business, democracies) "was, and remains, intensive kinship."

Regardless of whether Henrich is correct about the impact of incest taboos fifteen centuries ago, his argument that cousin marriage today causes war and authoritarianism seems bonkers crazy and just simply racist. I don't think it's any coincidence that the laws and morés against cousin marriage in America today came from classist stereotypes about poor people marrying their cousins in the 1800s. In 2012, I wrote about this history:

In a review of the history of cousin marriage in the United States, Diane Paul and Hamish Spencer explain that American laws around cousin marriage emerged in the 19th and 20th centuries out of political classism. Cousin marriage in the United States was associated with immigrants and the poor, and as states began drafting marriage legislation, cousin marriage became an easy target for political lobbying. The same attitude persists today. In 2005, Texas passed legislation that banned cousin marriage in an effort to dissuade fundamentalist Mormons from settling in their state.

Today we continue to weaponize those stereotypes against poor rural communities and foreign countries — espcially in the Middle East, where cousin marriage continues to be practiced widely within a nuanced cultural context.

Henrich completely bucks cultural context. He says that Egypt, Iran, and Iraq haven't "fully integrated with the modern formal political and economic institutions that first arose in Europe" because they "have maintained quite intensive forms of kinship, probably for religious reasons." He says that the Islamic custom of marrying within clans (cousin marriage) "encourages particularly intensive forms of kinship, which as I've shown favor certain ways of thinking and feeling along with particular formal institutions (e.g., not democracy)."

After finishing the book, I went onto Twitter to see what people were saying about it. For some reason, I had assumed that Henrich's book was popular on the left. I was wrong. The most prominent tweets were racist screeds from alt-right accounts citing Henrich as justification for their views.

Alt-right blogger HBDChick actually claims that Henrich stole her research. (Noted racist Steve Sailer also says Henrich stole HBDChick's research.) In researching this book, Henrich worked with economist Duman Bahrami-rad who, in a 2018 paper on the subject, cited both HBDChick and Steve Sailer.

I want to believe that this was just an unfortunate academic intersection, but it's very hard to ignore all of the things that Henrich says which just sound like racism. For one thing, in explaining the rise of the Western world, Henrich devotes two sentences to "conquests, atrocities, and disasters, including genocide, subjugation, dislocation, oppression, slavery, and environmental devastation," with a hand-wave.

To explain some of the unique self-restraint typical of Northwestern Europeans, Henrich writes that they were the only culture with "long histories of agriculture and state-level governments that had fostered the evolution of cultural values, customs, and norms encouraging formal education, industriousness, and a willingness to defer gratification."

Henrich seems to be saying that non-Europeans are impulsive and lazy. He goes on to argue that the European propensity for patience led to low interest rates in Europe. Henrich completely disregards the entire discipline of economics to make this point:

If people became less patient... interest rates would go up... Now, because economists typically assume that psychology is fixed (a big mistake), their default explanations for changes in interest rates typically focus on economic growth or on changes in risk due to political shocks, plagues, or wars.

I don't really know what to say here, except that interest rates are indeed based on economic growth, political shocks, and social strife. As is, un-coincidentally, the proclivity for patience in any given culture.

All in all, it seems like Henrich wants us to ignore the facts and instead believe that patience — like industriousness and creativity — is an ethnic attribute and, furthermore, an ethnic attribute that defines the success or failure of an ethnic group.

To prove his point, Henrich shares shocking interest rates in various Asian countries at times between the 1300s and 1800s:

  • 50 percent in the lower yangtze delta

  • 25-50 percent in Korea

  • 12-15 percent in Osaka

So Henrich believes that interest rates in Medieval East Asia were high because East Asians don't come from cultures with "long histories of agriculture" with cultural values like "formal education, industriousness, and a willingness to defer gratification." Of course, Japan, China, and Korea are all agricultural countries known for their cultural values of education, industriousness, and willingness to defer gratification. So much so that Malcolm Gladwell makes a logically-opposite yet similarly-racist argument in Outliers that Asians are good at math because of patience and discipline developed over a long history of agriculture.

One might hope that if a renowned academic like Henrich was going to use overt racism to make a point, it would at least be a compelling point, right? But maybe that is what we should take away from this. Racism and colonialism have been built on sketchy science since Europeans popularized them to satisfy European demand for labor (slaves) and capital (indigenous land). Ever since, white people have continually renewed our scientific rationalization for why everyone else deserves to be poor, subjugated, and enslaved. The science never makes sense, so we just keep rewriting it, trying to justify something that can't be justified. It's no surprise that Henrich quotes 18th-century racist David Hume on why white cultures are more civil than any others.

I suspect that's why Henrich tends toward gross generalizations. He frequently contrasts European cultures with "other societies" — as if that's a meaningful group. Even within Europe, he almost exclusively refers to all pre-Christian European cultures as a homogeneous whole. He persistently uses modern Indigenous peoples as surrogates for ancient European peoples, as if a 20th-century Amazonian has the same psychological profile as an 8th-century Anglo-Saxon.

It seems like Henrich thinks that all of this explains why countries in the global south have poverty. He says that European colonialism (which he characterizes as the transplanting of "impersonal institutions like representative governments, universities, and social safety nets, which all evolved in Europe" into "less complex societies" with "lower-level" political systems) was just a "misfit with people's cultural psychology," which led to "rising poverty, corruption, and malnutrition as well as to civil wars between clans, tribes, and ethnic groups."

In layman's terms: white people tried to share good things with primitive people, but they couldn't handle it, so they just devolved into war and corruption.

Henrich's generalization betray his focus. He uses the cutesy acronym "WEIRD," but he's talking about white people. Even still, he's selective. At one point he says that Europeans succeeded based on their "openness to new ideas, technologies, and practices from anywhere and everywhere." No one, would describe Europeans as historically "open to new ideas." Every movement and innovation in European history has been marked by protest and massacre — from the advent of Christianity through the Age of Sail into the French Revolution and the Scientific Revolution. Basically every major intellectual breakthrough — heliocentrism, germ theory, evolution, plate tectonics — met massive, often violent, resistance from the European establishment.

Henrich seems preoccupied with the positive attributes of white people, which he justifies with troubling Darwinian logic. Henrich thinks that European culture "evolved" the traits that led to its ascendance — a very sanitary worldview that absolves anyone of responsibility for any of the bad things that happened, while maintaining a racial tinge. Henrich tips his hand toward the end of the book in this aside:

It is possible... that cultural and economic developments I've described also created selection pressures on genes favoring some of the same psychological differences.

This is where Henrich, however fleetingly, speculates that maybe white people are genetically more hard-working, creative, and open-minded than "other" people. Okay, let's be clear: this is wrong. And bad.

But it's common enough today to think that evolution is some all-powerful, divine force guiding the animal kingdom toward greatness. It's as if our purpose as humans is to evolve well so that our genetic descendants proliferate our biological legacy like Genghis Khan. About men who find no mate, Henrich writes: "he will likely end up an evolutionary zero. This is a fate worse than death for natural selection." That's a slightly unhinged way to talk about procreation.

Whether or not he would appreciate the characterization, Henrich seems to be arguing that that, because of evolution, Europeans are more genetically more hard-working, democratic, and innovative compared to people from cultures where they marry their cousins.

Big History

This is a book in the Big History genre. Big History is the exploration of overarching trends in history. It has two subgenres: cosmic history, from the big bang to the present day; and Western history, from olden times to the modern period. The former has books like Steven Hawking's A Brief History of Time and Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything, while the latter includes titles like Sapiens and The Dawn of Everything.

The latter topic — the transition from olden times to now times — has a specific area of study. It's called "The Great Divergence," and it's driven by the question, "Why did Western European economics accelerate dramatically in the second millennium while the rest of Afro-Eurasia ostensibly stood still."

Perhaps the most interesting thing about the genre of Big History is the conflation of cosmic history (big bang to today) with European history (olden times to today). We have a strongly-felt sense that the modern world emerged out of a distant cosmic background. We envision two moments: prehistory (incomprehensible) and modernity (familiar). Big History is the genre that explains the passage from prehistory into modernity.

Depending on the commentators, prehistory might concern the Big Bang, the birth of our planet, the age of the dinosaurs, the emergence of homo sapiens, the stone age, or even fairly-recent feudalism (which lasted well into the 1800s in some regions).

Modernity, however, is always the same thing: capitalism.

The history of the last one or two thousand years is an an obscure niche in the history of humanity and in the history of the universe. And yet the arch of Big History books always brings us to the same place: modernity. Capitalism. What Henrich calls "WEIRD." I think this is because it's so hard for us to imagine another way of being, other than our own. We so strongly believe that capitalism the conclusion of history.

I explain all of this because TWPITW is an entry in the genre of Big History. And one of the most important hallmarks of Big History is generalization and oversimplification. It's inevitable. Some writers can pull this off skillfully. In my opinion, Henrich can't.

Henrich breezily dismisses concepts like class and war in his insistence that actually psychology is more important. I'm sure a nutritionist would argue that diet is the most important factor in history. My test for a theory of history is: can it help predict the future? Marx's theory of historical materialism is seriously imperfect, but it's does pretty well on this test. I have no faith that Henrich's analysis could help us predict the future. For him, it boils down to "cousin marriage equals poverty." Anyone can see that many of the countries where cousin marriage is popular today — India, Qatar, Israel, Saudi Arabia — are on the ascent.

Marriage

It took me 900 pages to reach these critical conclusions. But for the first twelve chapters I enjoyed bits and pieces as a summary of European history. My favorite part of the book was chapter five, where Henrich recounts the history of the family unit in Europe.

At core, this is a book about a well-studied subject: the European Marriage Pattern (EMP). Henrich hits his stride when summarizes famous historian's work on marriage in Europe. He says that European family structures are very unique historically. Under the EMP:

  • Lineage links to both mother and father's ancestors

  • Marriages are not to kin

  • Marriages are monogamous

  • Married couples establish a new residence

  • The new residence does not include relatives

Henrich says that this family structure is virtually unheard of in history until Medieval Europe.

This is his thesis: The medieval Catholic Church inadvertently altered people’s psychology by promoting a peculiar set of prohibitions and prescriptions about marriage and the family that dissolved the densely interconnected clans and kindreds in western Europe into small, weak, and disparate nuclear families.

Between about 400 and 1200 CE, the intensive kin-based institutions of many European tribal populations were slowly degraded, dismantled, and eventually demolished by the branch of Christianity that evolved into the Roman Catholic Church.

The social and psychological shifts induced by this transformation fueled the proliferation of voluntary associations, including guilds, charter towns, and universities, drove the expansion of impersonal markets, and spurred the rapid growth of cities.

I accept most of this. The church's assault on kin-based polities certainly changed European society profoundly and introduced the idea of impersonal groups and relationships. Relationships previously based on mutual aid became commercial. Groups previously based on community became legal associations. The church had many reasons to push for these changes and seemingly found strategic opportunities to do so.

I only start to disagree when we talk about the formation of "impersonal markets." Lots of historians have explained why impersonal markets grew due to mercantalism, international trade, war, taxation, and rents. Many of the arguments for the transition to a commercial society are based on top-down changes imposed by kings and lords. Often the working people violently resisted these changes. If all of that is true, it doesn't make sense to say that these changes were caused by psychology. It's kind of like, "You're not breaking up with me; I'm breaking up with you!" "You can't fire me; I quit!" "You can't dissolve my customary communal structures; I reject them based on my proclivity for hard work and individualism!"

An imposed social change that is resisted by the culture in question can't really be caused by psychology, otherwise it wouldn't need to be imposed. So while I think the history of family is interesting, I don't necessarily accept the idea that family psychology was the driving force in history.

Pagans

My biggest irk in this chapter was that Henrich groups all European cultures together under the banner of "the tribal populations of pre-Christian Europe." Henrich makes almost no attempt to differentiate between different ethnic groups.

He summarizes a few generalizations about the diverse cultures of Europe (which are interesting if crude):

  • People live in kin-based groups

  • Wealth and family follow the male line

  • Groups owned territory collectively or through custom

  • Groups adjudicated disputes internally by custom

  • Groups cared for their sick, injured, poor, and elderly

  • Families arranged marriages for their children

  • High-status men could have multiple wives

Henrich says that only male citizens without living fathers had full legal rights, and fathers could even kill their slaves or children.

Christianity

Henrich's history begins in the 500s, when the Pope sent missionaries to England to convert the Anglo-Saxons and indoctrinate them with Roman cultural norms, especially prohibitions on cousin marriage and levirate marriage (a man marrying his dead brother's widow).

Over the coming centuries, the church made this a huge campaign, advancing their uptight agenda through alliances with local rulers. In 596 a king imposed the death penalty for anyone who married their stepmother.

In the 700s, the church started spreading the notion of "illegitimate children." A child not born to a church-sanctioned marriage between two Christians was not valid in the eyes of canon law. This restricted who could inherit wealth and titles. Of course, it took centuries for these norms to spread, in part because patrilineal inheritance was still foreign in much of Europe. For many pagans, property couldn't be bequeathed from father to child, as it was held by the community.

All of these restrictions ate away at the customary social and political structures of pagan Europe. Communities that had been held together through ties of kinship drifted apart. The new family unit, based on patriarchy and separate residences, gave rise to a new social structure: manorialism.

Feudalism

Under manorialism (a part of feudalism), immediate family members lived together in houses, separate from extended family. Families consisted of one father and one mother. This was true for virtually everyone, rich and poor, free and unfree (serfs in bonded labor had their own homes).

The new small-family homes suffered from a deficit of labor, which previously would have been shared by extended family. So well-off households hired labor from poorer houses. Adolescents went to work as servants in wealthier houses. Generally, this was a period of training for a young person before they went off to start their own home. (And Henrich says that this practice of "life-cycle servants" is unique in global history.) The role of the elderly also changed. Rather than ageing into positions of respect and authority, community elders moved into retirement, losing their position of leadership. This authority was instead held by religion and the clergy, with religious figured called "father" or "papa" (pope).

From the 800s, Europe devolved into a state of near-chronic warfare that lasted until more or less until the present day. In this state of unrest and power-jockeying, the church managed to seize tremendous power for itself. By 900 CE, the church had dissolved the tribes of Europe, and by 1000 CE in England, "through its relentless efforts, the Church had largely prevailed in reshaping Anglo-Saxon (English) kinship." The new family structure was defined by:

  • No marriage to blood relatives (up to sixth cousins in some cases)

  • No marriage to your dead husband's family (because he became your brother in law)

  • Monogamous (no additional wives, sex slaves, or brothels)

  • No marriage to non-Christians

  • God parents

  • No marriage to godparents

  • No adoption

  • Consensual relationship (romantic)

  • Separate residences for each family unit

  • Possessing, investing, and bequeathing private property (not held communally)

Church law included rules about non-blood relations, such as prohibitions on marrying your wife's sister. This is in fact the origin of the term "in-law"; The church encouraged people to see their spouse's family as their own family in law. In this period, the German word for "mother-in-law" went from an old word Swigar to a new compound term Schwigermutter, or "affinal mother." Yiddish, on the other hand, which is a Jewish dialect of German and was untouched by Christian law, preserved the original Swigar.

But Why?

Why would the church impose these laws? Well, for one thing, cultures through history have always had opinions about who anyone should be allowed to have sex with or marry. Someone of the same gender? Multiple people? Your sibling? Your cousin? Someone from your own tribe? These are the sorts of things that people debate and form strong opinions about. So perhaps it's just natural for a religious order to write down some guidelines.

There are good health reasons not to have sex with your siblings, and children born to first cousins do have a slightly elevated risk of genetic disease (that risk increases steadily over multiple generations of "consanguineous" breeding). Of course, that doesn't explain why the church would prohibit marriage to your sister-in-law, for example. Henrich says that this has to do with household harmony. In kinship groups, its likely that a man would have lived with many women, including his sister-in-law and his mother-in-law. So relationships with in-laws or step-relations were a potential source of serious passion and drama. This might have been regarded as undesirable, one way or another. It reminds me of this line of David Graeber, which I come back to often:

Communities, much though they are based on love, in fact, because they are based on love, will always also be full of hatred, rivalry and passion.

I think that's so beautiful, and helps us to understand humans as fervent creatures — and the church as trying to tame that fervor. As I read the book, I started to see the church itself as a colonial entity. Through the Middle Ages the church grew enormously by selling religious wisdom and services and expanding those sales into new markets. After the fall of the Roman Empire, Europe had a power vacuum, and the Christian church filled that vacuum. For the Christian church and Christian kings, the greatest obstacle to colonial expansion was probably the strong kin-based political groups that formed the glue of pagan social life. The church entered new territories with the promise of charity and salvation, and then gradually transformed local cultures by imposing new laws—laws which disolved the social glue of pagan life. Gradually, the church consolidated political power for itself and its allies.

Eventually, the church held enough sway to generate revenue off of these restrictions by selling annulments. Someone who wanted to marry a relative would either purchase a special dispensation from the church or else make charitable donations to atone for their sin. In Iceland, early civil servants were funded by such payments, which continued into the 20th century in some places. William the Conqueror (who conquered England in 1066) was excommuniacted for marrying a distant cousin. To atone, William and his wife both built impressive abbeys as gifts for the church.

In an even darker example, the church outlawed adoption and invented orphanages, which provided a steady labor force for the church. (Adoption wasn't legalized in England until 1926.)

The church also started popularizing the idea of bequeathment — that rich people could enter heaven (despite Jesus's pesky teachings to the contrary) by leaving some of their wealth to the church when they died.

If not left to the church, religious law said that property must be left to a natural heir. But the restrictions made this tricky: if a couple couldn't conceive, they couldn't find new partners or adopt a child. So many people left everything to the church. This was all wealth that would have previously been held by a community, but by the second millenium it was steadily flowing into the church coffers.

The Church became immensely wealthy during the medieval period through a combination of bequests, tithes, and payments for services such as annulments and dispensations for cousin marriage... Among these, bequests made up by far the biggest portion of revenue. By 900 CE, the Church owned about a third of the cultivated land in western Europe, including in Germany (35 percent) and France (44 percent). By the Protestant Reformation in the 16th century, the Church owned half of Germany, and between one-quarter and one-third of England.

So, the prohibitions gave the church a political power that was so strong they could turn it into a revenue stream and compel great rulers to do their bidding.

For me, this helped answer an annoying question: how was the church so damn wealthy? By the 1200s, while most Europeans lived in squalor, the church had launched the "age of cathedrals," and funded the Crusades.

The new family structures forced people to rely more on strangers and corporations (firstly the church). It also forced people to disperse, traveling to find partners. Perhaps for a while people thought that it was safe to leave behind their social support networks, as the benevolence of the church would keep them safe.

The Rise of Europe

Nonetheless, Europe was still at this point irrelevant to the influencers of the day. In 1086, the Muslim scholar Said ibn Ahmad said the civilized people (those who had contributed to science and learning) were the Indians, Jews, Egyptians, Persians, Greeks, and Byzantines. The lowest of the barbarians were the "black barbarians" in sub-Saharan Africa and the "white barbarians" in Europe. He said of the Dutch and the English:

The other peoples of this group who have not cultivated the sciences are more like beasts than like men. For those of them who live furthest to the north, between the last of the seven climates and the limits of the inhabited world, the excessive distance of the sun in relation to the zenith line makes the air cold and the sky cloudy. Their temperaments are therefore frigid, their humors raw, their bellies gross, their color pale, their hair long and lank. Thus they lack keenness of understanding and clarity of intelligence and are overcome by ignorance and apathy, lack of discernment, and stupidity.

Two hundred years later (1377), historian Ibn Khaldûn said,

We have heard of late that in the lands of the Franks, that is, in the country of Rome and its dependencies on the northern shore of the Mediterranean Sea, the philosophic sciences are thriving, their works reviving, their sessions of study increasing, their assemblies comprehensive, their exponents numerous, and their students abundant.

As Ibn Khaldun observes, something was changing in Europe by the Late Middle Ages. At this point, I think Henrich's narrative falls apart, in part because he's missing something very important: the effect of the Medieval Warm Period on the European economy.

It's interesting to think that the church was the single greatest landholder in Europe (perhaps the world) when the European climate spontaneously warmed, increasing crop yields and stimulating market exchange. The warm climate made huge tracts of previously useless land available for cultivation, prompting a wave of colonialism into the European highlands, expanding the legal jurisdiction and wealth of the church. This era of prosperity created funding for education, rising up a new generation of religious clerks to transcribe and enforce church law. The warm weather also enriched and fortified local rulers, who were inspired by the church to write their own codes of law. In the 1200s, the King of England wrote the Law of Winchester, which established modern policing. Perhaps its true that the explosion of written law and commercial activity in the High Middle Ages was caused in part by the new family structure, which broke down communalism and gave rise to commercialism. However, Henrich completely ignores the role of climate here. (And, for that matter, I feel very skeptical that you can call this a "psychological" change rather than a social or political change.)

The legal revolution reflected changing morality. German laws in the 1100s said that fathers were no longer liable for murders or assaults committed by their family members. Increasingly, law pertained to individuals and, even more specifically, their intentions. For instance, was a killing intentional or accidental? This reflects a change from relationships mediated by community to ones mediated by contracts. These new laws were increasingly abstract, since they were God's laws. This meant that even kings were (in principle) subject to the same rules as peasants.

By the Late Middle Ages, Europe was highly commercialized and legalized. Disputes were settled in court rather than by duel. Land could be bought and sold. Ordinary people could work for wages. Rulers promoted free exchange to promote commerce, encourage population growth, and expand territorial control. The number of new cities boomed. After 1200, Europe saw the incorporation of 40 new cities per decade. By the 1300s, almost everyone in England was within reach of one of the country's 1200 weekly markets.

As Henrich goes on, he tries to extend his theory of the psychology of the European family into the Enlightenment and the Industrial Revoltuion. I think this gets pretty problematic. But I'll recount some of the facts, since the data points on their own are interesting.

European cities started installing mechanical clocks in the 1200s. By 1450, 20 percent of towns and cities with more than 500 residents had a clock. By 1600, almost every church had a clock. Under the guilds, efficiency of weaving high-quality wools increased 300 percent from 1300 to 1600. The price of watches dropped 75 percent from 1685 to 1810.

The popularity of clocks and watches reflected a newfound preoccupation with time, which was partly based on the practice of wage labor, for which business owners paid based on the number of hours worked. Increasingly, people believed that "time is money."

In London, the workweek lengthened by 40 percent in the second half of the 1700s. People added 30 minutes to the workday, started working six days a week, and took fewer holy days. By 1800, people were working 1000 hours more per year (19 hours per week).

Henrich says that people in commercial societies work 10 to 15 hours more per week than those in subsistence societies. He also says that the efficiency of English threshers doubled from the 14th to the 19th century, with no improvements in technology, meaning people were just working harder and longer.

So, having already started working longer hours when they switched from communal societies to commercial ones in the Middle Ages, Europeans were now working even more hours as the employers of the European enlightenment demanded more productivity from their growing population of workers.

All of this coincided with the rise of individualism. In 1628, England passed the Petition of Rights and then later the Bill of Rights, which anticipated the US Bill of Rights. People became obsessed with discovery (a word that entered the English language in the 1500s), invention, and (accordingly) plagiarism. People started naming ideas, places, body parts, and philosophies after individuals.

Ultimately, Henrich says that the European family structure spread to the rest of the world. From 800 to 1800, the number of people living in European cities of 10,000 people or more rose twenty-fold. Over the same period, the population of the Islamic world less than doubled and China's was flat. European-style marriages arrived in Japan in the 1880s and China (where Chinese fathers could get off with a warning for murdering their sons into the 20th century) in the 1950s.

Henrich's Rise of Europe

Toward the end of the book, Henrich starts to state his thesis more explicitly:

Proposed explanations for "Why Europe?" (ed: note this phrase) emphasize the development of representative governments, the rise of impersonal commerce, the discovery of the Americas, the availability of English coal, the length of European coastlines, the brilliance of Enlightenment thinkers, the intensity of European warfare, the price of British labor, and the development of a culture of science. I suspect that all of these factors may have played some role, even if minor in some cases; but, what's missing is an understanding of the psychological differences that began developing in some European populations in the wake of the Church's dissolution of Europe's kin-based institutions... let me underline a key point: none of these other explanations for the Industrial Revolution can account for the psychological variation and change I’ve documented in the last 12 chapters. So even if these other explanations are partially right, they’ve failed to notice the mastodon in the courtyard.

It's shocking to think any historian would characterize representative government, commerce, global conquest, coal power, maritime trade, the Englishenment, war, labor markets, or science as having a "minor role" in the rise of the West. I think that's a reflection of Henrich's hubris here. It seems like he wants to have the big idea that explains everything. (And, as an aside, directly contrary to his own quote here, Henrich heavily cites a book with the literal title "Why Europe" which is explicitly about changes in European populations in the wake of the Church's dissolution of Europe's kin-based institutions.)

The Big Picture

Toward the beginning of the book, Henrich explained the psychology of patience by describing the marshmallow test: a child gets a marshmallow, but they're offered a second marshmallow if they can wait twenty minutes before eating the first one. There's also an adult version, where the participant is offered $100 today or a greater sum ($150, $175, $200) a year from now. (The stock market would give you around $106.) Based on these tests, Henrich says that people from some cultures are more patient.

But critics point out that the marshmallow test is actually a measure of security. If someone is hungry or financially insecure, they have a strong insensitive to take the initial offer rather than waiting. Henrich doesn't just ignore that criticism, he blatantly contradicts it: since poorer countries perform worse on the marshmallow test, argues Henrich, they must be poor because they are less patient.

So, in the end TWPITW is primarily a justification for colonial racism and an erasure of colonial violence.

Henrich doesn't stop at racism. He also pulls in class and gender. He describes class consciousness as a "set of folk beliefs," reassuring us that "affluence plays little role in shaping these global psychological differences" (citation needed). So don't worry about economic inequality: it's not psychology, so it is irrelevant.

Women, Henrich tells us, had a great time in Medieval Europe, because... they had the option to join monasteries. Henrich's data point for this is that women had more options "than in most societies" (citation needed again). Again, this is a very strange claim to make in a book that is literally about the invention of the patriarchy, covering the period of the witch trials and the end of women's reproductive freedom. (To be clear, Henrich does not once mention misogyny or the oppression of women.)

All in all, it feels like Henrich doesn't really like women all that much, which is clear when he lays out this gem:

The Church, through the institution of monogamous marriage, reached down and grabbed men by the testicles... monogamous marriage suppresses men's competitiveness, risk-taking, and revenge-seeking while increasing their impersonal trust and self-regulation.

Aside from being completely gross, the logic behind this is also absurd. Henrich says that bachelors tend to have more testosterone, so therefore monogamous marriage suppresses testosterone. He makes no attempt to even investigate that mess of causation/correlation conflation.

Conclusion

Overall, this was not a good book. It wasn't good for psychology. It wasn't good for history. It wasn't good for anthropology. I feel likeI learned a about the history of the family unit in Europe, but I also learned that a lot of people who care about the history of the family unit in Europe are racists.

Henrich's citations really aren't great, and it can be quite hard to find sources for his facts. However, his bibliography is quite strong. I spent some time mining it for recommendations, including Robert Ekelund's trilogy on the economic history of Christianity. I'm already half-way through the first book in the trilogy, which examines Christianity as a monopolistic business enterprise, and it's fascinating.

I also took note of the book A Farewell to Alms by economic historian Greg Clark. I found a copy of that book and leafed through it, when I stubmled upon this passage about early modern England:

The richest men had twice as many surviving children at death as the poorest. The poorest individuals in Malthusian England had so few surviving children that their families were dying out. Preindustrial England was thus a world of constant downward mobility. Given the static nature of the Malthusian economy, the superabundant children of the rich had to, on average, move down the social hierarchy in order to find work. Craftsmen’s sons became laborers, merchants’ sons petty traders, large landowners’ sons smallholders.

This completely encapsulated everything I was wondering while I read Henrich. Under the individualistic Christian family structure, the average person was more or less an "evolutionary zero." As Henrich would say. The economy was so terrible that even the wealthy were falling off of the socioeconomic ladder faster than they could climb it. This wasn't a period of creativity and open-mindedness. It was a period of profound suffering and desperation. If we want to understand how Europeans invented whole new fields of science and then weaponized them against the rest of the world, it might be better to ask "What were they doing wrong?" rather than "What were they doing right?"

The Invention of Peace, by Michael Howard

Author
Michael Howard
Progress
100
Description
A survey of war through history.
Finished
true
Tags
  • society
  • history

I love a good bookstore. I can browse for hours. The best bookstore I've ever been to is Leakey's in Inverness — a cathedral to used books and old maps, with a giant wood stove in the middle (fire hazard be damned), and a wrap-around second-floor balcony — jammed with many more books — accessed from a spiral staircase. I went a couple of years ago after a massive lunch of fish tea (that's fish, chips, bread, coleslaws, and a pot of tea). Runners-up for great bookshops include Shakespeare and Co in Paris, the old JW Doull's in downtown Halifax, and St. George's in Berlin. But none of those rank as my all-time favorite bookstore.

My favorite is the Oxfam bookstore in Glasgow's Govanhill neighbhorhood. Claire and I lived in Shawlands, ten minutes away — on the other side of Queen's Park (so-named because that's where Mary Queen of Scots staged her last stand before being captured insurrectionist troops). Govanhill is known as an immigrant neighborhood. It's a beautiful community that branches off of the wide boulevard that is Victoria Road, running from the gates of Queen's Park in the south toward the Clyde River in the North. The low buildings and wide street allow sunlight to fill all of the shops and cafes of Victoria Road, making it a great mid-day stroll when the sun breaks out through the Glasgow clouds.

During my time in Glasgow, I took many mid-day strolls across Queen's Park and up Victoria Road, grabbing a pastry at Short Long Black cafe, dropping off film at Gulabi, perusing the racks at one of the many charity shops, and — almost every time — stopping for a prolonged browse at the tiny Oxfam bookstore. The shop is one room, with shelves on the two long walls, and a row of stacks in the middle. There are always overflowing cardboard boxes on the floor, and usually a hand-written sign in the window saying "Not accepting donations," because they're already at capacity.

When you walk through the door, the cookbooks, arts, crafts, and hobbies are on the left. I got a great photography book and some beautiful art books there. Opposite are the staff picks, rare books, and first editions. Next is the non-fiction: business, economics, philosophy, spirituality, politics, history, local interest. That's where I spent most of my time. Slowly, studiously browsing all of the spines. As I check the two small shelves beside me in my office, I count eight books from that little non-fiction section. There are more on the living room bookshelf, and more still that I donated back to Oxfam or to friends.

There are many Oxfam bookstores in the UK, and I've visited a handful of them. But, the Govanhill location really specialized in critical politics and history books. There I found Piketty, Hobsbawm, Varoufakis, and Marx. Due to its strong worker's movement, Glasgow has been known as "Red Clydeside," and Govanhill is a firmly working-class neighbhood, which probably skews the genres on offer at the Oxfam bookstore.

The Invention of Peace was one of those books that I picked up at the Oxfam bookstore. The first page bears the pencil mark, "WK51 £2.49". The sun barely gets out of bed in the winter in Scotland, so I must have picked up the book on a January day when I was on an essential vitamin–D walk around noontime.

The author, Michael Howard, is a historian of war. A quote on the front acclaims him "Arguably Britain's greatest living historian," giving the air that these 113 pages will have something valuable to say.

I took the book on a flight and read the whole thing between takeoff and landing. Howard teases the book with the thesis that war has always existed, but peace is a novel idea. This may be marketing, however, as the book is mostly a synopsis of the history of war, and the thesis falls largely by the wayside. Inasmuch as the idea of an "invention of peace" remains relevant, I think it's conceivable that "peace" didn't become a major project until "war" became a perennial liability for rulers. "Peace may or may not be a modern invention," writes Howard, "but it is certainly a more complex affair than war."

On a small scale, wars can occur without major destruction. In some societies, war might play out like a sporting event, a rite of passage, or a ritual, but at some point war became much more calamitous.

Howard espouses the conventional view that a warrior culture dominated Europe after the fall of the Roman Empire in the fifth century.

Over centuries of fighting, warrior leaders emerged who provided local protection and whose families became the nuclei of a society whose structure was predicated on the assumption of permanent war.

The church wrote divine law to justify political violence. To this end, St Augustine justified war as part of the fallen condition of man. But, to be religiously justified, a war had to be waged under proper authority, as a last resort, to right a wrong, and in proportion.

Basically, war had the function of upholding or restoring the secular order sanctified by the Church; an order that provided peace, justice and protection for all Christians... War was thus recognized as an intrinsic part of the social and political order, and the warrior was accepted as a servant of God, his sword as a symbol of the Cross. A culture of chivalry developed around the role and activities of the knight, that had little to do with the brute realities of war, and nothing whatsoever with wars against the infidel which could be, and were, fought with unrestrained brutality. This assimilation between warrior and priest was underpinned by the concordat between the most powerful family in Western Europe, the Carolingian dynasty, and the surviving Christian church in the West, which was sealed by the coronation in AD 800 of Charlemagne as Holy Roman Emperor. Legitimized both as the heir of the vanished but still respected hegemony of Rome and as the instrument of the church, Charlemagne did not have the power to sustain this notional hegemony beyond his own generation and it was to be repeatedly devolved and divided. Nonetheless, the concept of the Holy Roman Empire remained one of enormous importance until the Westphalian settlement of 1648, if not until its ultimate demise in 1803.

In the feudal Europe of the Middle Ages, war became a form of litigation to settle property rights, "limited, like all litigation, by the resources of the litigants."

The warrior class regarded peace as a an interval between conflicts, to be filled with tournaments, hunts, and crusades, "a habit that has survived into our own day in the upper-class obsession with hunting and field sports." War was an "almost automatic activity." But war is also expensive and destructive, and gradually weakened the ruling class, with their limited resources. Noble power was "legitimized by the ritual of kingship." Wars were fought with paid soldiers or mercenaries, which forced rulers to raise funds through loans or taxes, creating an evermore important relationship between the ruler, the soldiers who fought for him, the merchants who financed and supplied his campaigns, and the citizens who paid for them, creating a geographical border to encircle a newly emerging legal entity that comprised these parties and their relationships: the state.

The Reformation took power away from the church, shifting the balance of power to the state. Rulers sponsored education to support the growth of their new secular legal system and bureaucracy. "Indeed, the entire apparatus of the state primarily came into being to enable princes to wage war. With few exceptions, these princes still saw themselves, and were seen by their subjects, essentially as warrior leaders, and they took every opportunity to extend their power."

At the end of the Middle Ages, this power-grasping culminated into "a bid by the Habsburgs to sustain a hegemony which they had inherited over most of western Europe against all their foreign rivals and dissident subjects," creating a period of continuous warfare through the sixteen and seventeenth centuries, draining Europe of wealth. Previously, I wrote about the history of human violence, hypothesizing that humanity has become much more deadly since the 1300s, up to (and perhaps including) the current century.

Unpaid armies mutinied, overtaxed citizens revolted, and mercenaries went rogue. "The old order had irretrievably broken down, and a new seemed powerless to be born."

In 1648, the leaders of Europe signed the Peace of Westphalia, which "effectively affirmed the state as the unchallenged guarantor of domestic order and legitimiser of external war."

The borders of the states had been drawn, and the stage was set for a new era of international relations. However, rather than solving war, the new order seemed to create the parameters for it. The treaty was signed in the midst of the English Civil Wars. Within a few years, England and the Dutch Republic went to war. Not long after, England went to war with France. By the end of the 1600s, Europe had fallen back into a near-perpetual state of global conflict that would persist until the present day.

European peace was, by and large, world peace, while European wars had been world wars and had been so since the eighteenth century (the socalled 'First' World War was in fact about the sixth).

Howard ends the book on a pessimistic note.

The West continues to breed its own conflicts. Western societies may now all be peacefully bourgeois; but bourgeois society is boring... So although it is tempting to believe that as the international bourgeois community extends its influence a new and stable world order will gradually come into being, we would be unwise to expect anything of the kind. This was what Norman Angell and others believed in 1914: war had become so irrational a means of settling disputes that sensible people would never again fight one. But alas, they did.

Howard is a capitalist realist. He assumes that liberalism is the only natural order, and so he ascribes discontentment to "boredom," rather than dissent. This feels like a strange oversight, given that he also argues that the state was an invention of princes to wage self-serving wars at the expense of a subjugated populace. If that's true, it also seems natural that the populace might push back sometimes.

Howard's whole view falls quite cleanly into a mainstream narrative of social progress, viewing human history as a march from dirty prehistory to an enlightened future. Nonetheless, his summary offers a useful synopsis of war.

When I picked up the book, it was still clean with a pristine spine — evidently never read. Inside, I found a bookmark — the book's receipt. It was purchased on the fifth of January, 2004, at the Blackwells in Oxford — incidentally, another great bookstore where I picked up a few classics. The receipt reveals that the original purchaser also picked up two textbooks on politics and Islam, looking very much like the reading list for a university class. I imagine this Oxford alum moving to Glasgow, maybe for a masters at the University of Glasgow. And, eventually, dropping off some old textbooks at the Oxfam bookstore, spines unbroken — apparently unenlightened by Howard's tour of military history.

I thought often about Mary Queen of Scots as I walked around her namesake park. I feel a warmth toward her. She was obviously a fierce leader, but she was also a wealthy noble who sought power for her own gain (she repeatedly caused problems by claiming the throne of England, which belonged to her cousin Elizabeth). Elizabeth and Mary were members of the first generation of post-reformation leaders, and they grappled with the question of governance in that new era. They both ushered in the dawning era of perpetual warfare — which we are still puzzling about in university classes and books and long walks today. They both bucked the image of rulers as male warriors. And they both navigated impossible, torturous situations to do what they thought best. In a way, they seem emblematic of the forever war.

Revenge Capitalism, by Max Haiven

Author
Max Haiven
Progress
100
Description
Max Haiven argues that revenge is the heart of capitalism.
Finished
true
Tags
  • society

I was perusing the stacks at Shakespeare and Co in Paris when I noticed a familiar name: Haiven. Max Haiven. Isn't that Omri's brother? I asked myself.

I picked up the book, Revenge Capitalism, and read the back. The first testimonial was from one of my favorite writers, David Graeber: "Perhaps the most theoretically creative radical thinker of the moment." Wow, I thought. That's high praise.

I went to high school and university with Omri. I always knew his family was involved in activism. The coincidence was underscored by the fact that one year ago I stood looking at the same stack, when my eyes fell on No Place to Go, the book by my university professor Lezlie Lowe, who got my first article published. As I stared at the spine, a woman pulled the lone copy off of the shelf. "She taught me how to write," I spluttered. And, on the same shelf sat Page Boy by Halifax native Elliot Page. This is the Halifax section, I thought.

I took Haiven's book over to a comfy chair to read. After a couple of pages I realized something else: his book seemed more interesting than anything else in the politics section. From Graeber's testimonial to a quote from George Orwell in the preface to a Ruth Wilson Gilmore citation in the bibliography, this felt like my book.

Now the spoiler: ultimately, it wasn't my book. But I agree with Graeber that Haiven's exploration is creative and interesting and thoughtful.

Haiven's contends that revenge describes the spirit of capitalism. He starts the book:

"When you live in someone else's utopia, all you have is revenge. We live in capitalism's utopia, a world almost completely reconfigured to suit the needs of accumulation."

In the introduction, Haiven promises to explore the idea that capitalism is a "revenge economy," which exacts self-defeating vengeance on the world.

Haiven argues that capitalism is unique as an economic system with three specific attributes:

  • Complex financial mechanisms

  • Dramatic inequality with an exploited laboring underclass

  • A ruling class that perpetuates itself through force In capitalism, moneys serves as the "lifeblood" of a system where a minority ruling class appropriate the productivity of a majority underclass under threat of violence. This system is self-perpetuating because it depends on competition between capitalists. Writes Haiven,

Capitalism, like all systems of domination, is held together through a kind of normalized vengefulness, which is mystified as law, tradition, economic necessity, or justice.

And, later:

The vengeful dimension of capital is a reflection of its inherent structural tendencies and contradictions. Importantly it is a system not orchestrated by a total monarch, an oligarchy, or a conspiracy but, rather, by the sum of the contradictory actions of innumerable competitive capitalist actors.

Haiven argues that the spirit of revenge is essential to capitalism in two ways:

  • Capitalism's ruling class enacts violence to maintain its economic superiority

  • Capital accumulation is a destructive force that breeds vengefulness

"Revenge is the outcome, not the motivation, of capitalism," writes Haiven — which I think is too bad. I think it would be interesting to explore vengeance as both outcome and motivation. How does a spirit of revenge engender the attitude of capitalism? How does the attitude of capitalism create a spirit of revenge?

In general, I found Haiven's ideas stimulating, but his rhetoric unpersuasive. While I'm open to the idea that capitalism is essentially vengeful, Haiven never really convinced me and his historical research left me wanting more. In a short detour through the Enlightenment, Haiven mentions that good friends John Locke and Issac Newton collaborated in their "management of the nascent capitalist economy, Locke in the realm of policy and Newton as an early but formative Governor of the Bank of England. Both agreed that no punishment was too severe for proletarians who dared defy the state's control over the money supply, and they therefore helped pass a bevy of laws that criminalized the slightest economic infraction." I thought this was fascinating, but Haiven didn't go much further exploring Enlightenment thought or connecting it to his thesis, and I ultimately felt unsatisfied.

Haiven drawns an outline of a framework for revenge capitalism, without filling in the detail. He breaks revenge capitalism into three "patterns": unpayable debts, surplussed people, and "hyperenclosure" (referencing the English practice of land enclosures).

Haiven argues that the vengefulness of capitalism can afflict the wealthy as well as the workers, though the spirit of vengeance that is embodied in the working class has a different flavor. For example, the vengeance of the underclass might be understood as "terrorism." While we understand terrorism as anticapitalism, revenge capitalism might invite us to understand terrorism as an essential mechanism of capitalism — a response to "moments when the powerful operate vengefully on the oppressed with impunity, and when that impunity is disguised as necessary, unavoidable, natural, and just."

But the vengeance of the oppressed can also be more subtle, such as "a rejection of the oppressors' and exploiters' thought-world and stunted, narcissistic moral universe." Nonetheless, Haiven says that the revenge of the oppressed is likely to reinforce the capitalist worldview.

I loved the George Orwell quote from the preface,

There is no such thing as revenge. Revenge is an act which you want to commit when you are powerless and because you are powerless: as soon as the sense of impotence is removed, the desire evaporates also.

This quote serves as a meditation that carries on throughout the book. What is revenge? I think that what Orwell really means is that revenge is counterproductive. The fantasy of revenge — that you will be satisfied after you punish your tormenter — never delivers. Haiven quotes James Baldwin:

Revenge is a human dream ... there is no way of conveying to the corpse the reasons you have made him one – you have the corpse, and you are, thereafter, at the mercy of a fact which missed the truth, which means that the corpse has you.

Perhaps this is true: capitalism is a counterproductive system in which we are all in turn either fleeing or enacting vengeance. Perhaps the productivity of capitalism lies in the pursuit — the military buildup that produces innovation, the worker ambition that masks a fear of failure, the state bailouts that prevent recession. Perhaps it is a culture of anger and fear — a cycle of retribution.

On the other hand, what about the delightful side of revenge? The joy of getting back with a water balloon someone who just got you. The exquisite retort that leaves a bully speechless. The prize won back from a competitor after years of training. Maybe this is irrelevant to the discussion, but to me it undermines the idea that revenge is only a fantasy, and — in turn — the idea that revenge has no productive outcome.

Haiven never really convinced me that revenge is the spirit of capitalism, but he did leave a breadcrumb for me when he mentioned that anthropologists (notably David Graeber) associate debt and vengeance. That is an idea I will explore more when I keep reading Graeber's Debt.

Update: I did.

In the meantime, I'm still open to the idea that revenge — or at least, some mild antisocial sense of spite — is foundational to capitalism. I just read Ellen Meiksins Wood's The Origin of Capitalism which described the early days of capitalism in agrarian England. How might we imagine a spirit of vengeance to have animated England's early capitalists? At the dawn of capitalism, England's nobility were experiencing a period of extreme hardship. They coped with this hardship through increasing exploitation of the peasantry, and the peasantry responded with revolts and rebellions. What does this tell us about vengefulness in the latter days of feudalism and early days of capitalism? The coming centuries were defined by the rise of a capitalist bourgeoisie and, simultaneously, the rise of constant rebellion and warfare.

Overall, Revenge Capitalism felt perhaps too choleric. I understand that capitalism has caused profound harm, and that many capitalists have acted with deliberate intent. But Haiven's logic doesn't convince me that this is the essence of capitalism (even though I'm open to the idea). Instead, I feel like Haiven is projecting his anger towards capitalism, because we want to imagine this horrible machine to be a beast of vengeance. But, maybe that blinds us to other possibilities. I guess I'm not ready to abandon the possibility that there's something else at the heart of capitalism.

Articles

Climate and the Industrial Revolution

What caused the Industrial Revolution? Cotton? Steam engines? Science?

How about the sun?

We now know that, starting in the late 1200s, a "little ice age" a cooling climate caused famine, plague, and civil unrest, ushering in a prolonged period of warfare and labor shortage, precipitating the Protestant Reformation, the Age of Exploration, and the Enlightenment. (If you lived in Africa, Australia, Asia, or the Americas at the time, this was roundly experienced as a negative period.) This cold era was caused by reduced solar output and increased volcanic pollution.

But then, in the 1700s, the world reheated. If the cooling period caused a global geopolitical reallignment, then we would expect the warming period to have an correspondingly massive impact, right? Surprisingly, there has been very little research into the impact of this period of warming.

Brunt, Michaelowa, and Ljungqvist have all found correlations between weather and agricultural productivity. Brunt argues that climate was the largest contributing factor to England's Agricultural Revolution (which was the first stage of the Industrial Revolution). As the Agricultural Revolution increased the food supply per person, industrialists could afford more workers to staff their factories, while the wealth from the agricultural boom furnished the capital to build said factories. Agriculture remained the largest sector of the English economy until the 1840s, well into the Industrial Revolution --- so increases in agricultural productivity buoyed the entire economy.

Brunt dispells some myths about England's economic history. For one, the idea that England went through an agricultural revolution is largely an artefact of climate change, he says, as the climate swung from an unusually cold period in the 1690s to an unusually warm period in the 1850s, creating the impression of enormous improvements in agriculture technology. Those improvements were mostly a reflection of warmer weather.

Ignoring climate, most historians tend to attribute increased yields to technological improvements: mixed farming, clover, intensive ploughing, seed drilling, and turnips. Brunt argues that the first three of these innovations had no impact. Seed drilling and turnips had some impact, but by far the biggest change was the weather.

That same warming also took place on the far side of the Atlantic, where records show that growing seasons lengthened through the 1800s.

It's widely known that there was actually relatively little innovation at the beginning of the Industrial Revolution. The first half of the 1700s saw some innovations in weaving and mechanics, but those mainly laid the groundwork for larger innovations later in the century (the spinning ginny and the steam engine). The revolution which was defined by technological advancement was not initiated by it. Rather, an upwelling of wealth initiated an era of innovation. That wealth came from the land and the colonies (AKA other peoples' land).

In 1760, the British empire control about 5% of the Earth's surface. By 1800, 10%. By 1850, 15%. By 1900, 20% (now the largest empire in history). And by 1920, 25%.

So, it bears asking the question: was the rise of the industrial era a product of British ingenuity? Or was it the windfall of a massive empire profiting off of booming agricultural yields at the right moment in time?

Sources

The Origin of the Word "Hire"

Description
Somewhere between house and home.

Last week, I learned that the word "family" comes from Latin, and it's a relatively new addition to English. It entered English as a word for "household" in the 1300s. In ancient Rome, familia first refered to the slaves who lived in a household. Gradually it expanded to describe the economic unit of a household.

At the time, English had another word like family, hīred. That word meant household, retinue, troop, or descendents. German still has Heirat, meaning "marriage." In English, we still have hīred in "herd," a group of animals or the act of coralling them. Hīred descended from an earlier Germanic word hus, meaning "house," which likely described a collection of buildings — perhaps storerooms, for example, but probably not the actual space where people lived. (The living space was the razn, as in "ransack.")

The older Germanic word hus also spawned a Germanic word hyran, meaning "to receive into the house." English adopted this word, which was already closely related to hīred ("household") and put it to work to describe enlisting a servant for work.

Servants performed some of the first hourly paid work in the Middle Ages. As communal structures dissolved, replaced by the Roman family structure, households enlisted servants to perform jobs previously performed by members of the community. One of these servants might have been called a hīred-man.

So the act of "hiring" someone was initially an act of bringing someone into your household. (See my last post, on the related origin of the word wage.) The new feudal idea of "family" (group of servants) and "house" (a place to work) displaced the ideas hīred (a community) and razn (a place to rest).

Sources

The Origin of the Word "Wage"

Description
Where did we get the idea for hourly work?
Tags
  • history
  • language
  • society

Where did we get the idea to sell our time? Most humans throughout history would have found the idea completely bizarre. Today, I can sell my time to someone else and they can decide what I should do for that time.

The defining characteristic of ownership is the right to destroy something. If I borrow a book from the library or rent a car I can do anything except deliberately destroy or discard it. After I purchase the item, I am free to light it on fire or bury it in the yard.

In the case of time, this is also the difference between wage labor and other professional work relationships. When you work with a partner, an entrepreneur, a volunteer, or a friend, you have an obligation to respect their time. But you can destroy your employees' time. You own the hours that they sell to you, and you can do whatever you want with those hours — including wasting them.

Ancient Romans associated wages with slaves. A master could rent out their slaves at an hourly or daily rate. Most people sold their goods or services, not their time — that would have been perverse.

How did this strange idea become commonplace? The concept likely went back to the manor houses of feudalism. To understand this, I did a deep dive into the etymology of the word "wage." Where did the idea of an hourly payment come from? And does it have a connection to conflict ("wage a war") and gambling ("make a wager")?

"Wage" comes from an old Germanic word meaning "pledge," like a promise or a guarantee. A "wage" was a promise to follow through with a commitment. A wage would come with a token symbolizing the contract. A buyer might conclude a deal with a seller by offering a small coin, and the seller sealed the deal by accepting the coin, forming a contract. The buyer was promising to pay the full amount when the seller delivered the goods — and that promise was the buyer's wage.

A wage carries with it a sense of honor and enterprise. One old definition of wage is "to expose one's self to, as a risk." By making a commitment, you are taking on some risk.

For medieval nobility, the ideal of chivalry influenced all aspects of life — from relationships to work to literature to justice. Chivalry is the imagined code of behavior of brave knights ("chivalry" comes from the French for "knight", chevalier, who rides a horse, or cheval). The sixth English king, Alfred the Great, who lived at the end of the 800s, started the first clause of his law code, "In the first place we enjoin you, as a matter of supreme importance, that every man shall abide carefully by his oath and his pledge." Alfred decreed 40 days in prison for breaking a pledge.

Through the beginning of the second millennium, from the 1000s to the 1200s, Europe experienced astonishing economic and demographic growth (caused by climate change), concentrating wealth upwards toward the land owners — overwhelmingly kings, aristocrats, and parishes. By and large, nobles were not actually valorous knights in armor; they were medieval trust fund hipsters. Bored young nobles cosplayed as knights, evoking the idealized image of King Arthur, who — already in the High Middle Ages — existed as a mythical symbol of a bygone era. Arthur, if he really existed, had been dead for many centuries. Medieval bards resurrected the chivalrous myths as popular literature, anticipating the novel and pop culture generally. Medieval nobles took these ideas very seriously, undertaking extravagant campaigns (e.g. the Crusades) and showy contests (e.g. jousting tournaments). When they had nothing better to do, they would drink heavily and stir up petty feuds at home.

This comes through in the violent meaning of "wage," as in "to wage a war." This goes back to gentleman's duels, when one noble might pledge to meet another in battle. The thought of life-or-death duel would have been truly terrifying, and there would have been a sense that even the challenger might not make good on his challenge. So with a "wage" the challenger was saying, "I challenge you to a fight, and I promise to show up," putting his honor on the line. To make the wage official, he would offer a token — his glove — and proffer it with epic sass by throwing it to the feet of his rival. Traditionally, this would have been a gauntlet — an armored glove (from French gant for "glove") — which gives us the phrase "throw down the gauntlet" — or simply "throw down." The rival would accept the challenge by picking up the glove, or "taking up the gauntlet," which still means "accept a challenge."

As conflicts escalated in the Middle Ages, the gentleman's contests turned into international disputes, and one could "wage" a war — promising not only to duel, but to bring a whole army. The wage becomes a promise that "we'll resolve this on the battlefield."

So the idea of a wage was a gentleman's idea of honor, especially common among the nobility who had time to waste on duels and money to fritter away on enterprises, wars, and gambling (as in the sense of a "wager" — a pledge to pay a sum depending on the outcome of a game).

We have the idea of a wage in another common word, "wed," as in "wedding." In the 1400s, "wed" and "wage" had almost the same meaning — a pledge. To offer a "wed" was to make a pledge, and not necessarily a romantic one. But if a man wanted to marry a woman, he could offer a wed — a pledge to love her for the rest of his life — and a common token of that pledge would have been a ring. If the woman accepted the ring, then that formed the contract of marriage. Uncoincidentally, "engagement" comes from the same origin, "gage", which is the origin of "wage." Both "wed" and "engagement" describe a contract of lifelong monogamy.

But we no longer use the word "wed" or "wage" as a noun in the sense of a commitment anymore. So, how do we get to the modern sense of payment for work?

In the Middle Ages, the first wage laborers were actually servants working in the house of a lord. After the fall of the Roman Empire, a system of local governance called "manorialism" spread across Europe. Manorialism, based on Roman villas, was the system where a male lord ran a household and surrounding lands. Manorialism (and the overarching system of feudalism) broke the existing pagan systems of governance throughout Europe, where land would more likely have been held collectively and work distributed throughout an extended community of kith and kin. Manorialism broke up these communal structures, isolating families in separate households. The inefficiency of separate households created a shortage of labor. The women of the house now handled work previously performed in groups. The wealthier houses, which had disposable income, procured help in the form of servants. In the early days, a servant was an adolescent from a poorer household. It would have been hard to convince someone to leave their own home to do labor in a stranger's home, so the contracting lord made a sweet offer: this would be a temporary work period where the young employee could make good money and learn how to run their own household. The lord would provide room, board, sick leave, and medical care. The lord promised to pay the servant even if there was no work for them. To establish the contract (which was usually one year, with payment at the end of the year), the lord offered a coin, "God's penny," as a token of the wage. By making this promise, the lord assumed a serious social liability; if he failed to make good on his pledge, he would tarnish his own reputation and ruin his honor.

For a while, household servitude was good work that helped adolescents acquire the skills and money to start their own home. But that changed toward the end of the Middle Ages.

In the late 1400s, the economy slumped, and the age of servants increased. It took longer and longer for servants to earn enough money to start their own household. At the same time, the guild system was booming in the manufacturing industry. Guilds had adopted a similar system where young apprentices would work for a wage until they earned enough money to start their own business. But the poor economy reduced young artisans prospects, and — like servants in the lords' houses — the apprentices stayed in their masters' workshops for longer and longer. Eventually, the concept of a "wage" went from a promise for a short term engagement to permanent employment.

Wage labor exploded during England's agricultural and industrial revolutions, when commercial agriculture displaced peasants from their traditional lands, forcing them to look for wage labor in agriculture or manufacturing.

But, as it was for the Ancient Romans, the idea of wage labor never completely shed its slightly demeaning connotation. Implicit in the idea of wage labor is the idea that someone has made a promise to you, and your work is contingent on the employer following through with their promise. In principle, that should be an equal contract between two parties. But, during the commercial revolution of the 1500s, 1600s, and 1700s, workers lost their bargaining power. This was in part because legislation actually impeded the rights of workers, eroding their power to negotiate. In the 1500s, for example, Queen Elizabeth outlawed unemployment by punishment of death. Eventually, employers would simply default on payment — reneging on their pledges. The idea of a wage lost its sense of honor and became a transaction — not a promise, but just a payment for hours worked.

Until the 20th century, there was considerable moral concern about this. Commentators said that the prevalence of wage labor amounted to "wage slavery," harkening back to the Roman ideas about wage labor. To sell ones time is analogous to selling ones whole body — in both cases, one is giving up autonomy over oneself. The politician, activist, and former slave Frederick Douglas said,

Experience demonstrates that there may be a slavery of wages only a little less galling and crushing in its effects than chattel slavery, and that this slavery of wages must go down with the other.

Abraham Lincoln was a little softer, saying that wage labor was acceptable — so long as workers could eventually afford to start their own business. He saw the wage as a pledge that the worker could one day secure their own freedom.

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© Sam Littlefair 2024