Hannah Arendt, in her book The Human Condition, offers an expansive theory of the human world through history. Her primary concept centers on human activities, which she claims can be divided into four sorts: (1) labor activities are those with the sole purpose of human survival whose produce is transitory, used up in completing its purpose, and therefore cyclical; (2) work to create a lasting, material human world, the products of which remain even after use but are themselves simply a means to some other end; (3) action, the causing of others to carry out one’s own plans, the organizing of great things which invariable have unintended ramifications; and (4) contemplation (cf wuwei or inaction in Chinese philosophy), a mystical condition variously described by different thinkers, but certainly not like the other three conditions.
Ms Arendt claims that the logic behind each of these activities dominated Western history at various times. For the ancients, action was the true purpose (even meaning) of life. A person would be judged by the quality of what they did, how they publicly led others in achieving greatness. Each public man of course required the support of a private home: slaves, a wife, and chattel to support him. Women, children, and servants may have been human, but they assuredly not people. Indeed, their very privacy debarred them from public action. The problem with action, however, is that you can never predict the result. A person’s life might very well have been meaningless viewed in retrospect.
The advent of Christianity brought a solution to the problem of action: the power of promise and forgiveness. A promise could grant a degree of surety about the result of an action and forgiveness could wipe the slate clean of the unintended consequences. Indeed, all people – not just householders – could now look to escape the curses of this world. The effect was to shift the focus from this world to the next, which Arendt associates with contemplation.
This state of affairs worked well enough as long as all the power centers held a similar view, but the Galilean revolution consummated a series of shifts that placed man’s attention squarely on the nature of the world itself. Of course, to observe the world, one cannot be a part of it. It Galileo’s ability to conceive of the universe from outside the universe itself that pointed the way for a new age: the unprecedented and progressively more ingenious discovery and use of nature and nature’s law. Man had always made tools, of course, but now the universe became his tool. The logic of the age was that of work. Indeed, that which once limited the work of man’s hands was cast aside forever. Now truly man was like God, aspiring to omniscience and omnipotence.
But there are, naturally, limits to what people think, feel, believe mankind ought to do. The old modes of living were marginalized as knowledge brought about greater population, specialization, and urbanization. The few accumulated great knowledge, power, and fortune, but the newly enlarged masses suffered grievously. Out of this grievance, Marx called on common them to cast off the shackles of oppression. This was the rise of labor and ultimately led to our present jobholder society. The material needs of society having been met, attention was thus returned to the need of each person for meaning in life. While a small minority basically provided for every material need, the rest were freed to produce other goods, hence the service sector of the economy. The support of a person, once strictly the private business of the home, now became the domain of the a disembodied state.
What Arendt missed was the reaction of power to labor. The mode of work retained much of the power it had gained during the scientific revolution. Its end, after all, is mastery of this world, whereas as modern labor merely seeks an improved lot for the many. This struggle – knowledge against labor – continues today throughout the world. Thus our task today is balance the blessings of science against the need to care for society.
Marx’s historical epochs seem to align well with Arendt’s: slave society is the age of action; feudal society is that of contemplation; capitalist society is work; and labor corresponds to socialism and eventually communism. We might also see Marx’s aboriginal and developed communisms as bookending Arendt’s four phases.
Just as interestingly, these epochs seem to match the four personality archetypes as well (see previous post). The age of action is suited to the Dionysian doer; the age of contemplation fits the Apollonian quest for feeling and meaning, the age of work (or reason) best matches the Promethean quest for knowledge; and the labor society embodies the Epimethean ideal of providing for all.
Finally, it is also tempting to apply the archetypes to our living history. We might call Generation Y romantic and emotional, and therefore choleric Apollonians. Gen Xers are stereotypically caustic and blase, just the opposite of “Y,” and therefore phlegmatic Promethians. The Boomers had their cause in their day, but perhaps in the end seemed to care more about rebelling – acting – than about the righteousness of the cause. They are therefore best labeled sanguinary Dionysians. Could the Greatest Generation then be called melancholic Epimethians? Are they the responsible traditionalists that label implies? Maybe. Does this mean that those who proceed from Y will be as well?
All of this last is rather shaky; impressions and overly broad generalizations, mostly. Worse, these stereotypes may become self fulfilling prophecies. As with individuals, societies (across generations) must be able to come together in some agreement to embrace the qualities of each archetype at appropriate times. Failure to do so means imbalance, disharmony, and in the end disaster.