Isaiah Berlin - Russian Thinkers

written with equal bitterness by Voltaire and by Tolstoy. The purpose

of history? We do not make history and are not responsible for it. If

1 'Doctor Krupov': IV z63-4.

--1-i'61d.:

-

IV z64.

90

H E RZEN AND BAKUN I N ON LIBERTY

history is a tale told by an idiot. it is certainly criminal to justify the

oppression and cruelty. the imposition of one's arbitrary will upon

many thousands of human beings, in the name of hollow abstractionsthe 'demands' of' history' or of'historical destiny'. of'national security'.

of 'the logic of the facts'. 'Salus populi suprema lex. pereat mundus et

fiat justitia have about them a strong smell of burnt bodies, blood,

inquisition. torture, and generally of"the triumph of order". '1 Abstractions. apart from their evil consequences, are a mere attempt to evade facts which do not fit into our preconceived schema.

A man looks at something freely only when he does not bend it to

his theory, and does not himself bend before it; reverence before it,

not free but enforced, limits a man, narrows his freedom; something in talking of which one is not allowed to smile without blasphemy . . . is a fetish, a man is crushed by it, he is frightened of

confounding it with ordinary life.1

It becomes an icon, an object of blind, uncomprehending woBhip, and

so a mystery justifying excessive crimes. And in the same vein:

The world will not know liberty until all that is religious.

political, is transformed into something simple "'nd human, is made

susceptible to criticism and denial. Logic when it comes of age

detests canonised truths . . . it thinks nothing sacrosanct, and if

the republic arrogates to itself the same rights as the monarchy, it

will despise it as much, nay, more . . . It is not enough to despise

the crown-one must not be filled with awe before the Phrygian

Cap; it is not enough not to consider lhe·majestl a crime: one must

look on sa/us populi as being one. a

And he adds that patriotism-to sacrifice oneself for one's country-is

doubtless noble; but it is better still if one survives together with one's

country. So much for 'history'. Human beings 'will be cured of [such]

idealism as they have been of other historical diseases-chivalry,

Catholicism, Protestantism'."

1 'From the Other Shore': VI 140.

t 'Letters from France and Italy', lifth letter: V 89. See also the remarkable

analysis of the universal desire to evade intellectual respJnsibility by the

creation of idols and the transgression of the Second Commandment in 'New

Variations on Old Themes' (II 86-102), which originally appeared in

SOPrement�il.

a 'From the Other Shore': VI 46.

" ibid.: VI 3 5·

RU SSIAN TH INKERS

Then there are those who speak of 'progress', and are prepared to

sacrifice the present to the future, to make men suffer today in order

that their remote descendants might be happy; and condone brutal

crimes and the degradation of human beings, because these are the

indispensable means toward some guaranteed future felicity. For this

attitude-shared equally by reactionary Hegelians and revolutionary

communists, speculative utilitarians and ultramontane zealots, and

indeed all who justify repellent means in the name of noble, but distant,

ends- Herzen reserves his most violent contempt and ridicule. To it

he devotes the best pages of From the Other Shore-his political

profession de foi, written as a lament for the broken illusions of

1 8 ... 8.

If progress is the goal, for whom are we working? Who is this

Moloch who, as the toilers approach him, instead of rewarding

them, draws back; and as a consolation to the exhausted and

doomed multitudes, shouting 'morituri te salutant', can only give

the . . . mocking answer that after their death all will be beautiful

on earth. Do you truly wish to condemn the human beings alive

today to the sad role of caryatids supporting a floor for others some

day to dance on . . . or of wretched galley slaves who, up to their

knees in mud, drag a barge . . . with the humble words 'progress

in the future' upon its flag? . . . a goal which is infinitely remote is

no goal, only . . . a deception; a goal must be closer-at the very

least the labourer's wage, or pleasure in work performed. Each

epoch, each generation, each life has had, has, its own fullness; and

m route new demands grow, new experiences, new methods . . .

The end of each generation is itself. Not only does Nature never

make one generation the means for the attainment of some future

goal, but she doesn't concern herself with the future at all; like

Cleopatra, she is ready to dissolve the pearl in wine for a moment's

pleasure • . . 1

. . . If humanity marched straight towards some result, there

would be no history, only logic . . . reason develops slowly, painfully,

it does not exist in nature, nor outside natu:-e . . . one has to arrange

life with it as best one can, because there is no libretto. If history

followed a set libretto it would lose all interest, become unnecessary,

boring, ludicrous . . . great men would be so many heroes strutting

on a stage • • • History is all improvisation, all will, all extemporethere are no frontiers, no itineraries. Predicaments occur; sacred discontent; the fire of life; and the endless challenge to the fighters

1 ibid.: VI H-S·

HERZEN AND B A K U N I N ON L I B E RTY

to try their strength, to go where they will, where there is a road;

and where there is none, genius will blast a path.1

Herz.en goes on to say that processes in history or nature may repeat

themselves for millions of years; or·stop suddenly; the tail of a comet

may touch our planet and extinguish all life upon it; and this would

be the finale of history. But nothing follows from this, it carries no

moral with it. There is no guarantee that things will happen in one

way rather than another. The death of a single human being is no

less absurd and unintelligible than the death of the entire human race;

it is a mystery that we accept, and with which there is no need to

frighten children.

Nature is not a smooth, teleological development, certainly not a

development designed for human happiness or the fulfilment of social

justice. Nature is for Herz.en a mass of potentialities which develop in

accordance with no intelligible plan. Some develop, some perish; in

favourable conditions they may be realised, but they may deviate,

collapse, die. This leads some men to cynicism and despair. Is human

life an endless cycle of growth and recession, achievement and collapse?

Is there no purpose in it all? Is human effort bound to end in ruin, to

be followed by a new beginning as foredoomed to failure as its predecessors? This is a misunderstanding of reality. Why should nature be conceived as a utilitarian instrument designed for man's progress

or happiness? Why should utility-the fulfilment of purposes-be

demanded of the infinitely rich, infinitely generous cosmic process?

Is there not a profound vulgarity in asking of what use its marvellous

colour, its exquisite scent is to the plant, or what its purpose can be

when it is doomed to perish so soon? Nature is infinitely and recklessly

fertile-'she goes . to extreme limits . . . until she reaches the outer

frontier of all possible development-death -which cools her ardour

and checks the excess of her poetic fancy, her unbridled creative

passion.'2 Why should nature be expected to follow our dreary categories? What right have we to insist that history is meaningless unless it obeys the patterns we impose upon it, pursues our goals, our transient,

pedestrian ideals? History is an improvisation, it ' "simultaneously

knocks upon a thousand doors, . . . doors which may open . . . who

knows?" "Baltic ones, perhaps-and then Russia will pour over

Europe?" "Possibly." '3 Everything in nature, in history, is what it is,

and its own end. The present is its own fulfilment, it does not exist

1 ibid.: VI 36.

I ibid.: VI 31·

1 ibid.: V I 3z.

93

R U SS IAN TH INKERS

for the sake of some unknown future. If everything existed for the

sake of something else, every fact, event, creature would be a means

to something beyond itself in some cosmic plan. Or are we only

puppets, pulled by invisible strings, victims of mysterious forces in a

cosmic libretto? Is this what we mean by moral freedom? Is the

culmination of a process eo ipso its purpose? Is old age the purpose of

youth, merely because this is the order of human growth? Is the

purpose of life death?

Why does a singer sing? Merely in order that, when he has stopped

singing, his song might be �emembered, so that �he pleasure that his

song has given may awaken a longing for that which cannot be

recovered? No. This is a false and purblind and shallow view of life.

The purpose of the singer is the song. And the purpose of life is to

live it.

Everything passes, but what passes may reward the pilgrim for his

sufferings. Gt'ethe has told us that there is no insurance, no security,

man must be content with the present; but he is not; he rejects beauty

and fulfilment because he must own the future too. This is Herz.en's

answer to all those who like Mazzini or Kossuth, or the socialists

or the communists, called for supreme sacrifices and sufferings for the

sake of civilisation, or equality, or justice, or humanity, if not in the

present, then in the future. But this is 'idealism', metaphysical

'dualism', secular eschatology. The purpose oflife is itself, the purpose

of the struggle for liberty is the liberty here, today, ofliving individuals,

each with his own individual ends, for the sake of which they move

and fight and suffer, ends which are sacred to them; to crush their

freedom, stop their pursuits, to ruin their ends for the sake of some

ineffable felicity of the future, is blind, because that future is always

too uncertain, and vicious, because it outrages the only moral values

we know, tramples on real human lives and needs, and in the name

of what? Of freedom, happiness, justice-fanatical generalisations,

mystical sounds, abstractions. Why is personal liberty worth pursuing?

Only for what it is in itself, because it is what it is, not because the

majority desires freedom. Men in general do not seek freedom, despite

Rousseau's celebrated exclamation that they are born free; that,

remarks Herz.en (echoing Joseph de Maistre),is as if you were to say

' Fish were born to fty, yet everywhere they swim.'1 lchthyophils may

seek to prove that fish are 'by nature' made to fty; but they are not.