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The last 200 years have seen a rise in societies based on happiness rather than on virtue. The virtuous society needs a single authority to declare an appropriate morality. That authority might be a pope, a council of elders, a king, an aristocracy, or something of the sort. This kind of society has been in decline in the west, though the Catholic Church has been notable in its efforts to uphold the morality of small children, bringing them closer, much closer, to god.

The replacement for the virtuous society is a society based on happiness, with, putting it simply, the ballot box used as the means of gauging the needs and wants of the population. In such an environment, as it turns out, science can flourish, as it is (relatively) protected from whimsical moral declarations from on high, and associated declarations of fact. Both the happiness society and science have a materialist bent too. The association between materialism and the happiness society goes back to Epicurus.

Iran is a virtue based society. It has a group known as the Guardian Council that has substantial power. How reminiscent this is of Plato’s Republic! It also has clerics. Cleric Hojjat ol-eslam Kazem Sediqi  provided the following explanation for earthquakes. The quotes are taken from this BBC article.

“Many women who do not dress modestly lead young men astray and spread adultery in society which increases earthquakes.”

“What can we do to avoid being buried under the rubble? There is no other solution but to take refuge in religion and to adapt our lives to Islam’s moral codes.”

“Now if a natural earthquake hits Tehran, no one will be able to confront such a calamity but God’s power, only God’s power. So lets not disappoint God.”

Well, you can’t argue with god, and I imagine it is not advisable to argue too loudly with the good Hojjat ol-eslam Kazem Sediqi either.

So enters Jen McCreight. She self-describes with the noble qualities of ’liberal, geeky, nerdy, scientific, perverted atheist feminist trapped in Indiana.’ She runs a blog called Blag Hag.

Jen responded to Hojjat ol-eslam Kazem Sediqi’s declaration by proposing an experiment. Dress down, dress dirty, and produce an earthquake, or not. An article she wrote about her challenge appears in The Daily Beast here. On her blog, here, she discusses the aftershocks from her article.

She sells t-shirts on the theme, modelled here by the surprisingly limber.

As far as I am aware no causation between dressing down and earthquakes was found, but we are awaiting computer modelling from available data by scholars at the University of East Anglia, a commentary by Al Gore, and a declaration by the IPCC.

Postscript: Discussing erotic pictures at Pompeii an article in The Independent on Sunday dated [Saturday] 15 May 2010 states:

And it’s unlikely Pope Benedict will be paying a visit to the bath paintings, which climax graphically in a spot of man-on-man-on-woman-on-woman action. Just this week the pontiff told crowds in Portugal that gay marriage was a bigger threat to the human race than disease, famine, terrorism or natural disasters – including, presumably, volcanoes.

So don’t worry, even if  Hojjat ol-eslam Kazem Sediqi is wrong about causation, we can still rest assured that pretty much nothing could be worse than a democratically approved sexual code if it remains unapproved by the various gods’ messengers.

For Bentham on homosexuality see this commentary at glbtq and Bentham’s writing on the subject.

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A couple of years ago a colleague introduced me to a website with Australian federation resources. The search page for the site can be found at:

http://setis.library.usyd.edu.au/fed/fedsearch.html

Try keywords such as ‘Bentham’ and ’Dicey’.

Another point of entry is via the author index. Try ‘D’, scroll down for Charles Gavan Duffy, and go to My Life in Two Hemispheres Book IV  for a fascinating snapshot of, well, his 19C life in two hemispheres.

In this book I came upon the following little Bentham gem at p138. Duffy has just arrived in Australia, in 1856:

 I had been cordially received by the leaders of the Liberal Party, and their programme included the measures that seemed most urgent. Opening the public lands to the people, enlarging the basis of political freedom, and the proclamation of complete religious equality. Among the men who had been the most prompt to welcome me were a small sprinkling of squatters who insisted that I who had fought the battle of the tenants in Ireland must necessarily sympathise with the Crown tenants who were menaced in their rights by a new population who had come for gold, and would abandon the country when they had got it. But I retained one guiding axiom of Jeremy Bentham, then and always “the greatest good of the greatest number,” and I [139] found myself imperatively drawn to the other side. But I desired to be fair.

The fight between squatters and the ‘greatest number’ ran for some 30 years in Victoria as the parameters of the new democracy were thrashed out. Duffy was a key member of the side that favoured a democracy that reflected the principles of the 1838 Charter. 

Soon after, Duffy visits Sydney. He observes at p141:

In Sydney I found two parties, one devoted to unrestricted popular liberty, the other Conservative Liberals; but an Australian Conservative, as some one has said, is a man who accepts only four of the six points of the People’s Charter.

I have not really discussed the Charter much on this site, but some relevant posts include one on the Westgate Bridge, another about a website which canvasses the implementation of the points of the Charter in Australia, and one on Henry Chapman. Suffice it to say at this point that the Charter was written by three men, William Lovett, John Roebuck and Francis Place. Place and Roebuck were dyed-in-the-wool Benthamites and Lovett was significantly influenced by Benthamism. Most importantly, all were strongly opposed to the use of violence as a means of implementing the Charter or political reform generally. They were all moral-force Chartists.

Most 20C scholarship elevates the role of the physical-force Chartists, who, along with electoral reform, also proposed the implementation of some form of socialism. This perspective is essentially a Marxist one. Those who elevate the place of physical-force Chartism seem generally to regret that a revolution did not take place, displacing capitalism. Thus, they generally construct Chartism as having failed. It is certainly true that physical-force Chartism became strong from around 1840 and lost its impetus around 1850. But the principles of the Charter itself were not lost when the socialist campaign petered out.

The points of the Charter were largely implemented in Australia by the mid-1850s and in Britain by the early 20C. The crowning achievement was the implementation of the women’s vote. While this was not one of the points of the Charter, according the William Lovett in his autobiography, it was only dropped for pragmatic purposes.1

Bentham’s Radical Reform Bill (The Google Books copy can be accessed from the sidebar too) outlines the issues that later informed the 1832 Reform Bill and the Charter. Bentham was only one of many seeking such change.

The Autobiography of Francis Place, ed by Mary Thale, Cambridge University Press, 1972.

The Life and Struggles of William Lovett, New York, Knopf, 1920. (Volume 1 only) See p100 onwards for material especially related to the London Working Men’s Association, and 168ff for material on the Charter.

or the book (not online)

Lovett, William. The life and struggles of William Lovett, New York, Garland Pub, 1984, originally published by Trubner, 1876 (full text (ie has vols 1 and 2))

  1.  For Bentham’s assessment that delay in a campaign for political reform can be strategically appropriate see Jeremy Bentham, First Principles Preparatory to Constitutional Code, ed. Philip Schofield (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989). 100 []

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The French revolution produced revulsion amongst many observers. While many initially supported its aims, as time went on and the revolutionaries became bloodier, admiration faded.

Bentham became famous for his critique of the ostensibly liberating idea of natural rights as stated in the Declaration of Rights published by the French National Assembly in 1791. He took the declaration sentence by sentence, and subjected it to a withering attack. Thus his critique of the sentence ‘The end in view of every political association, is the preservation of the natural and imprescriptible rights of man’ asserts:1

More confusion — more nonsense, — and the nonsense, as usual, dangerous nonsense. The words can scarcely be said to have a meaning: but if they have, … these would be the propositions either asserted or implied: –

1. That there are such things as rights anterior to the establishment of governments: for natural, as applied to rights, if it mean anything, is meant to stand in opposition to legal — to such rights as are acknowledged to owe their existence to government….  

Bentham acknowledges rights given in law, but not rights preceding government – natural rights. Thus he makes his famous declaration:2

Natural rights is simple nonsense: natural and imprescriptible rights, rhetorical nonsense, — nonsense upon stilts.  

Bentham continues:3

But this rhetorical nonsense ends in the old strain of mischievous nonsense: for immediately a list of these pretended natural rights is given, and those are so expressed as to present to view legal rights. And of these rights, whatever they are, there is not, it seems, any one of which any government can, upon any occasion whatever, abrogate the smallest particle.

So much for terrorist language.

So, Bentham argues:4

Remember the ides of September [1792] is a momento I always conceive of as given when I hear of natural rights: where this is the imagery displayed in front, I always see in the background a cluster of daggers or of pikes introduced in the National Assembly with the applause of the President Condorcet for the avowed purpose of exterminating the King’s friends. Of late these pikes and daggers have been exhibited in broad day, and pointed out to reasonable and reasoning men, as gibbets used to be to murderers and thieves. But though till lately kept behind the curtain, they were always at hand, and but too close to the elbow of many a well-meaning man who hardly suspected how near he was to use them, or how void of all meaning his discourse, his politics, his fancied philosophy was, except in so far as he meant to use them.  

Thus J. H.. Burns suggests that ‘In a real sense, then, the French Revolution made possible the creation of Benthamism’.5

 

The Contrast, Thomas Rowlandson, 1792

Published on behalf of the Association for the Preservation of Liberty and Property against Republicans and Levellers, 1792. Hand-coloured etching. British Museum, London.

There remains a strong element of bloodiness in the ambitions of some French philosophers. Jean-Paul Sartre and Michel Foucault spring to mind. Jacques Rancière’s call for actions which ‘can provoke fear, and so hatred’ is not far behind.6 Foucault declared:7

When the proletariat takes power, it may be quite possible that the proletariat will exert towards the classes over which it has just triumphed, a violent, dictatorial and even bloody power. I can’t see what objection one could make to this.  

This last sentence in particular is especially chilling, coming from one supposedly used to thinking things through. For Foucault, in relation to justice, the role of the state is to:8

educate the masses and the will of the masses in such a way that it is the masses themselves who come to say, ‘In fact we cannot kill this man’ or ‘In fact we must kill him’.  

Actually, Foucualt did change his mind somewhat when he discovered that the proletariat might well consider putting homosexuals on the hit-list given that, according to La Cause du Peuple, homosexuality was a product of bourgeois corruption.9 Whoops.

Foucault, who was pretty keen to associate himself with slaughter,10 celebrated the events of September 1792 in his discussion with Pierre Victor in 1972. An appropriate response to a particular problem, he thinks. 11

 What is interesting is that this schism has been around for 200 years, and, so long as some intellectuals continue to glorify violence and to support and elevate their fellows who do likewise, that schism is unlikely to go away. Mao was trained in Paris, Pol Pot and his unfortunate comrades were trained in Paris. Many intellectuals look to to Paris for their inspiration.12 The French revolution marches on in direct oppostion to the ambitions of Benthamism.

Next will be a discussion of the methods of peaceful protest developed by Francis Place and others, exemplified in the Charter and put into practice with moral-force Chartism.

  1. 1. Jeremy Bentham, “Anarchical Fallacies; Being an Examination of the Declarations of Rights Issued During the French Revolution – an Examination of the Rights of Man and the Citizen Decreed by the Constituent Assembly in France,” in The Works of Jeremy Bentham, ed. John Bowring 1. (Edinburgh: William Tate, 1843). Vol 2, 500 []
  2. 2. Ibid. 501 []
  3. 3. Ibid. 501 []
  4. 4. Jeremy Bentham, in Jeremy Bentham’s Economic Writings, ed. Stark (London: Allen & Unwin, 1952-1954.). i, p. 336.) []
  5. 5. J. H. Burns, “Bentham and the French Revolution,” Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 16 (1966). 114 []
  6. 6. Jacques Rancière, Hatred of Democracy, (trans Steve Corcoran), Verso, London, 2006, p97. For context see also pp  73, 85, 93, 96, 97. Especially 96 re wresting power. []
  7. 7. “Interview with Michel Foucault and Noam Chomsky” in Fons Elders, Reflexive Water – The Basic Concerns of Mankind, London: Condor, 1974 182. See also “Interview with Michel Foucault and Noam Chomsky.” 183. In Miller, The Passion of Michel Foucault. 201 Chomsky describes Foucault as ‘completely amoral’. []
  8. 8. Michel Foucault, “On Popular Justice: A Discussion with Maoists,” in Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings 1972-1977, ed. Colin Gordon (Brighton, Sussex: Harvester Press, 1980). 13. []
  9. 9. See in  David Macey, The Lives of Michel Foucault (London: Hutchinson, 1993) 304  []
  10. 10. See quotes above. Note also the the paper La Cause du Peuple was put out by La Gauche Proletarienne, a Maoist organisation with an armed wing. Foucualt had close connections with the organisation. In addition, Ranciere associated with the group, and Foucualt’s lover was a member. For Ranciere’s association see ‘Introduction’  in The Nights of Labor, xvii. []
  11. 11. Michel Foucault, “On Popular Justice: A Discussion with Maoists” in Power/Knowledge,  1-2. See also page 6 for Foucault’s support for the revival of customs such as extra-judicial decapitation, again employing the pike as a method of display. See also pages 12, 13, 28, 33, 36 in all of which Foucault discusses the merit and implementation of extra-judicial killing. See also David Macey, The Lives of Michel Foucault (London: Hutchinson, 1993). 299 and James Miller, The Passion of Michel Foucault (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1993). 205. Note at Macey, The Lives of Michel Foucault. 184 mention of Foucault’s obsession with his media presentations and insistence on editorial control. These are not accidental declarations. []
  12. 12. See re Pol Pot and Sartre in Paul Johnson’s Intellectuals, London, Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 1988, and this article from the Wall Street Journal []

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Len Hume

In respose to a comment by Stephen yesterday on the Welcome page, I thought I would sneak in a few bits and pieces about Len Hume for  later use, and for the interest of  anyone else wanting to find out a little bit about him.

His keynote book:

Hume, L. J. (Leonard John), Bentham and bureaucracy, Cambridge ; New York : Cambridge University Press, 1981.

You will find a short and useful bio plus an article at this page:

L.J. Hume, ‘Another Look at the Cultural Cringe’, Occasional Paper, St Leonards, N.S.W.: Centre for Independent Studies, 1993.
http://www.the-rathouse.com/Another_look_at_the_Cultural_Cringe.htm

This front page of an article gives a little further flavour of Hume’s interests:

Michael Lee, ‘The Public Realm and Political Ideas’, Australian Journal of Politics & History, Volume 40 Issue 2, Pages 214 – 217
http://www3.interscience.wiley.com/journal/119262104/abstract?CRETRY=1&SRETRY=0

The Bentham Newsletter provides a reference to a review of his edition of Bentham’s Consitutional Code:

The Bentham Newsletter, The Bentham Committee, UCL, MAY 1982 refers to:
Work in Progress:
Volumes II and III of The Constitutional Code, L.J. Hume
BOOK REVIEWS
L.J. Hume, Bentham and Bureaucracy, S.E. Finer
and, just as a matter of interest:
Charles F. Bahmueller, The National Charity Company.Jeremy Bentham’s Silent Revolution, J.R. Poynter
http://74.125.155.132/search?q=cache:srS3VDeGIecJ:ucl.ac.uk/Bentham-Project/journal/newsletter/Newsletter%252006%2520May%252082.pdf+len+hume+bentham&cd=9&hl=en&ct=clnk&gl=au

For a reference to (possible) unpublished papers see:

John Rowland Dinwiddy, William L. Twining, Bentham: selected writings of John Dinwiddy, Stanford, Stanford University Press, 2004 (Originally pub: OUP, 1989)
http://books.google.com.au/books?hl=en&lr=&id=8_L13JxfTvgC&oi=fnd&pg=PP14&dq=Len+Hume+bentham&ots=yrTEuycBVn&sig=T_fY5BA7PdDPwF0Ha1ZOBeohZaA#v=onepage&q=Len%20Hume&f=false
at ‘Acknowledgements’ for Dinwiddy’s reference to unpublished paper/s by Hume (and others). Of course these may have been published since.

And a tiny review by Hume at:

L.J. Hume, ‘Charles Davenant on financial administration’, History of Political Economy, 1974 6(4):463-477
http://hope.dukejournals.org/cgi/pdf_extract/6/4/463

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Here is a link to a blog post by lureamicorum discussing the influence of JB in Columbia. It also provides links to resource material for further investigation:

Bentham in Columbia.

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This is a continuation of the theme begun at my recent post on female utilitarian authors. I will just add to this post as I stumble across novelists who deal with utilitarianism in a direct fashion. Of course there are the female novelists listed at the earlier post, but that post also includes authors of non-fiction.

The depth of literature available, and the often stellar names associated with utilitarian themes (either for or against), gives an indication of the impact of Benthamite ideas on nineteenth century British society, and its offshoots.

Edward Bulwer-Lytton

The English constitutional lawyer, Albert Venn Dicey wrote this to James Bryce (Bryce Papers, Bodleian Library,3-41 (18/8/05)):

‘Bulwer whose whole aim was to represent the predominant sentiment of every time in wh. he wrote gives in his earlier writings great consideration to benthamism.’ [sic]

Go to the Bulwer-Lytton contest!

When Arthur Hardy sailed to South Australia from England as an immigrant, he wrote the following on 3 Feb 1839 about Bulwer-Lytton’s novel, Ernest Maltravers:

‘I think it the best work of the kind I ever read, it has more of the Philosophy of real life than any book I know of…’

Arthur Hardy was the brother of Harriet Taylor. Taylor is listed in the female utilitarian authors post. Taylor married John Stuart Mill in 1851, but she had known him since 1830. Hardy lived at Glen Osmond, now a suburb of Adelaide.

Thomas Carlyle

Sartor Resartus -  click on ‘Read this Book’ tab, then search for ‘utilitarian’.

Charles Dickens

Hard Times

Benjamin Disraeli

Click on Disraeli’s name to go to my previous post on his novel, The Young Duke.

John Frederick Denison Maurice

Excerpt from the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy entry on James Mill

Virtually everything that James Mill ever wrote had a pedagogical purpose. He was a relentlessly didactic writer whose most important essays — Government, in particular — take the form of clipped, concise, deductive arguments. It is a style which his contemporaries either admired or detested, as can be seen for instance in F. D. Maurice’s novel Eustace Conway. When the Benthamite Morton discovers Eustace reading Mill’s Essay on Government, he asks his opinion of Mill. Eustace replies:

“I think him nearly the most wonderful prose-writer in our language.” “That do not I,” says Morton. “I approve the matter of his treatises exceedingly, but the style seems to me detestable.”

“Oh!,” says Eustace, “I cannot separate matter and style … My reason for delighting in this book is, that it gives such a fixedness and reality to all that was most vaguely brilliant in my speculations — it converts dreams into demonstrations” (quoted in Thomas 1969, 255-56).

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A. V. Dicey was a constitutional theorist. He was one of the key writers looked to by the authors of the Australian constitution. Lewans suggests that ‘Dicey revered Bentham’s utilitarian principle – that legislation should promote the greatest happiness of the greatest number’.1 Dicey himself stated that:

The history of modern English law is the history of a gigantic revolution produced by the ideas of one man. Under the influence of Bentham, half a century or more of stagnation has been followed by half a century of innovation…. Hardly a single portion of English law has, since George the Fourth came to the throne, escaped the influence of reform. The constitution of Parliament has been changed. … For half a century the thoughts of Bentham have been working in the minds of men, many of whom have forgotten or have never known the name of the great jurist. The fruit of his ideas has been a movement of which the last generation saw the beginning and of which the present generation will not see the end.2

The book by Dicey most referred to by the Australians was Introduction to the Study of the Law of the Constitution. In that book Dicey looks (more or less) approvingly to John Austin’s distinction between political and legal sovereignty, and the real limits placed upon the capacity for a sovereign to make laws – be that sovereign a despotic individual or an elected parliament.3. Despite this political reality, parliament knows no legal limit to its law-making capacity. It thus has (legal) sovereignty. This is a single sovereignty. For some constitutional theorists this idea of a single sovereignty that can be readily identified is important.

There is another work that is also of use to illustrate Dicey’s interest in the Benthamite influence on British law and society.  That is Lectures on the Relation between Law and Public Opinion in England during the Nineteenth Century. This book deals extensively with Benthamism, though, according to Lewans, Dicey casts that influence exclusively as a philosophy of individualism.4 As can be found in these posts, even Engels agrees that Benthamism lay behind more collective endeavours.5

What was the effect of Dicey’s work? Well, because it conceptualised the federal structure as a single sovereignty divided between the federal sphere and the states, and because, accordingly, it looked to the Australian people as a single mass as well as being citizens of individual states, Dicey’s theories allowed for a national Australian identity as well as a state identity, rather than an identity that remained fixed in the states. One could be as much an Australian as, for example, a Tasmanian or a South Australian. For further discussion of this see Nicholas Aroney, Imagining a Federal Commonwealth: Australian Conceptions of Federalism, 1890-1901, Federal Law Review [2002] 10.

It is arguable, therefore, that the very idea of an Australian identity can be traced, at least in part, to Benthamite sources and their conception of sovereignty. But remember, similar ideas can be found in Madison’s Federalist No 39. The USA, after all, is not short of a national identity. Anyhow, this collective identity that unites sovereign units might well be traced back to the battle of Thermopylae – or at least, to Greek federalism. For a discussion of Greek federal identity, see Freeman’s History of federal government in Greece and Italy. This book, too, was influential amongst the authors of the Australian federal constitution. Freeman was clear in his book about the debt he owed Grote and his History of Greece. Grote was a key utilitarian whose history helped make democracy acceptable to his British audience.

1. Matthew Lewans , Rethinking The Diceyan Dialectic, University of Toronto Law Journal, Volume 58, Number 1, 2008, p97 []

2. A. V. Dicey, ‘Modern English Law’, The Nation (2 Nov. 1876), xxiii, 273, p273 []

3. A. V. Dicey, Introduction to the Study of the Law of the Constitution, London, MacMillan & Co Ltd, 1961, 72ff []

4. Lewans, Diceyan Dialectic, pp98-99 []

5. See also, for example Axel Kirk Davies – The Utilitarian Foundations Of Collectivism, No. 15 in Series Libertarian Heritage, London: Libertarian Alliance, 1995, Mary Peter Mack, The Fabians and Utilitarianism, Journal of the History of Ideas, Vol. 16, No. 1. (Jan., 1955), pp. 76-88. There are relevant links to Engels’ work in these posts. []

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I thought it would be useful to compile a list of female utilitarian authors. Here is the beginning of such a list. There may be disagreement over the political orientation of those in the list. That’s fair enough. It is only supposed to be a starting point, not an end point.

Another interesting list, which would cross over with this list, would be that of utilitarian novelists, or those novelists who specifically referred to utilitarianism in their works. (See here for the new post.) Apart from some of the novelists listed below, there are Dickens and Disraeli, both critical, and Bulwer-Lyttton. These three authors make an appearance elsewhere on this site.

If you know the names of any authors that you can contribute to either of these lists please add a comment below.

Lucie Duff-GordonLetters from Egypt. I don’t know if Duff-Gordon wrote as a utilitarian or as a social observer without any particular political perspective. However she and her family were intimately acquainted with the utilitarians. Her father was John Austin, who developed analytical jurisprudence. This is a small excerpt from the introduction to the 2007 edition of Letters from Egypt:

In 1819 [John Austin] married Sarah, the youngest daughter of John Taylor of Norwich, when they took a house in Queen Square, Westminster, close to James Mill, the historian of British India, and next door to Jeremy Bentham, whose pupil Mr. Austin was. Here, it may be said, the Utilitarian philosophy of the nineteenth century was born. Jeremy Bentham’s garden became the playground of the young Mills and of Lucie Austin; his coach-house was converted into a gymnasium, and his flower-beds were intersected by tapes and threads to represent the passages of a panopticon prison.

See also Three Generations of Englishwomen by Janet Ross (1888).

George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans). Eliot might or might not be classed as utilitarian. Jennifer Mary Bradshaw’s 1990 PhD thesis Concepts of happiness: The influence of Ludwig Feuerbach on the fiction of George Eliot, completed at the University of Ottowa is a useful source for the relationship between Eliot’s views and happiness. The precis for the thesis begins:

 The search for happiness is a vital theme in George Eliot’s fiction. Eliot’s treatment of this theme owes much to nineteenth-century utilitarianism, which stemmed from Jeremy Bentham’s “greatest happiness principle,” and the religious demythologization of the German philosopher Ludwig Feuerbach, who interpreted Christianity in terms of human consciousness. In 1854, Eliot translated Feuerbach’s Das Wesen des Christenthums, in which Feuerbach describes the components of man’s being as feeling, thinking, and willing. George Eliot saw an opposition between utilitarianism and Feuerbach’s humanism. This fact is fundamental for our understanding of the rhetorical structure of Eliot’s moral universe. In her fiction, utilitarianism as utility, the pursuit of pleasure, utility, avoidance of pain, and calculation of pleasure over pain (the “felicific calculus”) is shown by her, paradoxically, often to lead to wrongdoing, suffering, and even crime. For some of her protagonists, however, it contributes to a primary stage of their development…

See Felix Holt.

Millicent Fawcett.  Fawcett was a key agitator for the women’s vote. She was inspired by J.S. Mill. In her biography of Molesworth she displays a strong appreciation for the efforts of the utilitarians. Whether she herself can be identified as utilitarian, I am unsure.

Jane Marcet. Again, I am not sure whether Marcet can strictly be identified as utilitiarian, but she certainly promulgated the idea of political economy, and thus fits within the general milieu. One of her works on science inspired Faraday. Her didactic approach inspired Martineau. Her easy dismissal of the uneven distribution of land in Fairytale in Essays: Glamorgan Pamphlets is a bit of a worry!

Harriet Martineau – In Robert Lee Wolff’s introduction to Ireland by Harriet Martineau (New York : Garland Pub., 1979), Wolff observes at p.vii that Martineau’s novels in the series ‘Illustrations of Political Economy’ sold tens of thousands of copies each. Each title dealt with a separate aspect of political economy, and Martineau produced one title per month. The series was written 1832-4. For biographical material see for example Webb, Harriet Martineau: A Radical Victorian; Wheatley, The life and work of Harriet Martineau. Martineau’s readership included Princess Victoria.

Henry Handel Richardson - Click on the name to go to my post on a small excerpt from Richardson’s book, Australia Felix. Richardson might not be a utilitarian author exactly, but I’m pretty sure that this adaption of a page of two from the Aeneid is, at a minimum, a critique of utlitarianism.

Harriet Taylor. Taylor is famous for her authorship of works promoting the political and social empowerment of women, including The Enfranchisement of Women, originally attributed to J.S. Mill.  See Ann P. Robson and John M. Robson, Sexual Equality: Writings by John Stuart Mill, Harriet Taylor Mill, and Helen Taylor (Toronto: University of Toronto, 1994).

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Word cloud

Brett Holman at Airminded  has introduced a brilliant way of summarising a thesis. Here is mine so far:

Generated at

http://www.wordle.net/

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Australia was fundamentally influenced by moral-force Chartism. Henry Parkes, for example, was a Birmingham Chartist prior to his emigration to Australia in 1839. At that time Birmingham Chartism advocated class unity. In fact, the ‘Union’ in Birmingham Political Union referred to the union of classes. Similarly Henry Chapman, who played an important role in the implementation of the secret ballot in Victoria in 1856, was a friend and political ally of the authors of the Charter, William Lovett, John Roebuck and Francis Place. All of these were moral-force Chartists.

This post is really just a link to a resource I found yesterday showing the dates of implementation in Australia of the points of the Charter.  Here is a screen shot of the index page and the address:

 

 http://www.parliament.curriculum.edu.au/srch_browse.php3

Go to the buttons under the heading ‘Parliaments at a glance’ (highlighted in blue in the screenshot) and click on your desired jurisdiction. You will find the relevant table at the bottom of the page you are taken to.

These dates represent some substantial achievements. Many represent world firsts.

Should the link die, please let me know. A Google search for phrases on the screen shot might find the page.

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 This post was inspired in a general way by the post by Man of Roma, “Italians are Cynical, Amoral, Religiously Superficial”. See also at the bottom of that post further relevant Man of Roma posts.

The particular quote that inspired this post is from another Man of Roma post, Sex and the city (of Rome). A conclusion.:

I will finish this draft conclusion of Sex and the City (of Rome) with this interesting passage written by a British historian, C. P. Rodocanachi (probably of Greek descent), and dedicated to what he considers a potent factor of the Greek miracle (Athens and the Greek Miracle, Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd, London 1948). This text sheds light in our view on the Greek mind and, to a certain extent, on the Roman mind, plus on some aspects of Italian Renaissance men as well:

Life with no Pang of Conscience

Absence of conflicts of conscience: the Greeks were quit “of this inhibiting and agonizing struggle. Their morals were civic and not religious. Their sense of duty was directed exclusively to the city … They knew nothing of the Christian idea of good faith, of intentions conditioning acts in such a manner that the most law-abiding citizen may feel himself a great criminal at heart… [They] may be considered as being intrinsically amoral and this very amorality was a powerful constituent of balance of mind which they could never have attained if their conscience had been torn, as ours is, between the conflicting forces of good and evil, virtue and vice, pleasure and sin. They could enjoy beauty, taste the delights of life without a pang of conscience. So long as they were faithful to the laws and interests of the city they had no damnation to fear, either in this world or the next.”

What follows is a brief summary of the influence of Epicurean thought in the Western tradition, with an emphasis on the word ‘brief’. The part that deals with Renaissance Italy is highlighted in blue. Perhaps of most use are the references to be found in the notes and at the very bottom of the page. One of these of particular note is: Howard Jones, The Epicurean Tradition, Routledge, London, 1989

Another, not used in the text below, is:

McMahon, The Pursuit of Happiness, A History from the Greeks to the Present, Allen Lane, London, 2006.

For a taste see:

Darrin M. McMahon, ‘From the happiness of virtue to the virtue of happiness: 400 B.C.-A.D. 1780′, Daedalus 133.2 (Spring 2004): p5(13)

The text below was written as small part of my thesis, although it will be more detailed in the thesis.  It is not directly related to Man of Roma’s ideas, except insofar as it traces an ever-growing (in my view) throwing off of the shackles of a debilitating morality-based polity, and its replacement with a more human-centred ‘happiness’ approach. We are all, perhaps, becoming more Italian!

 

Constitutional Happiness

Happiness is considered to have first appeared as a coherently expressed problem in moral and political philosophy with the Greeks, in Plato.[1]  The Epicureans later adopted happiness as a foundation for a personal moral philosophy.[2]  That happiness might be considered a fundamental element of formation of states is underlined with a look at Plato’s Republic. In Greek the title is Politeia, [sorry, Greek characters wouldn’t display in Wordpress] which has a broad meaning including constitution of a state, a prominent subsidiary meaning of which is republican government.[3]  ‘Constitution’ indicates a sense of the broad political matrix of the society, such as might be meant by the English ‘constitution’ (though excluding reference to the actual type of state) and does not refer to a written constitution. ‘Constitution’ is, in fact, the most pertinent translation for Plato’s Politeia. The aim of a constitution for Plato (or Socrates) may be summed up in the following:

…our aim in founding the State was not the disproportionate happiness of any one class, but the greatest happiness of the whole; we thought that in a state which is ordered with a view to the good of the whole we should be most likely to find justice, and in the ill-ordered State injustice: and having found them, we might then decide which of the two is the happier.[4]

But Plato cautions:

We were enquiring into the nature of absolute justice and into the character of the perfectly just, and into injustice and the perfectly unjust, that we might have an ideal. We were to look at these in order that we might judge of our own happiness and unhappiness according to the standard which they exhibited and the degree in which we resembled them, but not with any view of showing that they could exist in fact.[5]

and thus:

I said: ‘until philosophers are kings, or the kings and princes of this world have the spirit and power of philosophy, and political greatness and wisdom meet in one, and those commoner natures who pursue either to the exclusion of the other are compelled to stand aside, cities will never have rest from their evils, – nor the human race, as I believe, – and then only will this our State have a possibility of life and behold the light of day.’ Such was the thought, my dear Glaucon, which I would fain have uttered if it had not seemed so extravagant; for to be convinced that in no other State can there be happiness private or public is indeed a hard thing.’[6]

Plato is stating an ideal which equates with a work of art. In proposing this he states:

Would a painter be any the worse because, after having delineated with consummate art an ideal of a perfectly beautiful man, he was unable to show that any such man could ever have existed? He would be none the worse.[7]

Thus, for Plato, the aim of the state is the greatest happiness for all.[8]  However the best system to obtain that objective is not necessarily achievable. Plato’s philosopher king is only possible in the abstract. It is only possible as an ideal form. Plato’s ideal aim is not dependent upon his ideal means to accomplish it – the rule of the philosopher king. Thus Jowett asks:

Was [Plato] loyal to Athenian institutions? — he can hardly be said to be the friend of democracy: but neither is he the friend of any other existing form of government; all of them he regarded as ’states of faction’ (Laws); none attained to his ideal of a voluntary rule over voluntary subjects, which seems indeed more nearly to describe democracy than any other; and the worst of them is tyranny.[9]

Plato, however, saw democracy as unstable, leading to tyranny.[10]

Aristotle, too, elevated happiness, seeing it as the ‘most excellent, most noble, and most pleasant thing in the world.’[11]  It is ’something final and self-sufficient, being the end of all things which are and may be done.’[12]

In Nicomachean Ethics (Ta Ethika) Aristotle equates happiness with the chief good of society.[13]  In Politics Aristotle has it that ‘the end then for which a city is established is, that the inhabitants of it may live happy.’[14]  Again, the best practical solution is democracy. Russell summarizes Aristotle:

Monarchy is better than aristocracy, aristocracy is better than polity. But the corruption of the best is worst; therefore tyranny is worse than oligarchy, and oligarchy than democracy. In this way Aristotle arrives at a qualified defence of democracy; for most actual governments are bad, and therefore, among actual governments, democracies tend to be best.[15]

For Aristotle and Plato virtue was the means to happiness, and happiness was the highest good. However, Russell notes that Christianity and Stoicism place virtue above happiness, and virtue is as possible for the slave as for the master.[16]  This tussle between virtue and happiness as the cornerstone of human social organisation has been one of the enduring themes of western ethical and political philosophy.

For Epicurus virtue was simply instrumental, and only instrumental.[17]  The end was pleasure.[18]  Epicureanism had a significant place in Greek and Roman thought. While Russell observes that ‘The only eminent disciple of Epicurus is the poet Lucretius (99-55B.C.)’ and that his ideas were influential during the free-thinking last days of the Roman Republic, this may mislead a little, leaving Epicureanism seem a relatively minor doctrine, whose influence was confined to a short period. In his television program De Botton guides us through an ancient village agora at Oenoanda in Turkey, dominated by a wall built with the sponsorship of the Epicurean, Diogenes, declaiming against the use of superfluous market goods, and exhorting the community to the Epicurean way.[19]  Clay, discussing the same site, refers to the long life and considerable spread of Epicureanism,[20]  though he questions Diogenes Laertius’s claim that Epicureans ‘took Italy by storm’.[21]  Clay also refers to Epicurean ‘communities of friends’ in Asia, Egypt and on the Hellespont which Epicurus visited in the manner ‘that invites comparison with the voyages of St. Paul.’[22]  Cicero, meanwhile, gives a picture of a Rome well familiar with Epicureanism in his Tusculan Disputations. Jones has it that the Epicurean philosophy flourished into the Christian era,[23]  and while steadily declining, it maintained a strong presence up to and beyond Augustine’s time.[24]  However, during the entire period it was more an ethical philosophy than a political philosophy, though it cast its influence to the highest levels of the state.[25]

However, for around 1,000 years, under Christian domination, Epicureanism was to become all but invisible, along with much pagan thought.[26]  Epicureanism was swept into the coffin of history by Dante,[27]  but was resurrected only 100 years later by, among others, the collector of Greek and Latin manuscripts, Poggio Bracciolini, who discovered the Epicurean manuscript De rerum natura in 1417.[28]  At this time Epicureanism was primarily associated merely with gratification of sensual desires, and thus broadly frowned upon, with some exceptions. Be this as it may the Italians were allegedly not slow to put into effect their somewhat earthy understanding of Epicureanism, and ‘For more than one Englishman of the following century [16th] ‘Italian’ and ‘Epicurean’ were identical terms’,[29]  this being associated with licentiousness of every kind, and atheism.[30]  However, by the seventeenth century the centre of balance for Epicureanism had shifted to England, where Epicurean materialism, including the denial of the soul’s immortality, and refusal to grant God an active role in human affairs,[31]  helped create a foundation for non-Aristotelian science.[32]  Jones makes this point, and has in mind the works and ideas of those including Charleton,[33]  Evelyn,[34]  Bacon,[35]  and Stanley.[36]  Albee looks to the Cambridge Platonists, including Bishop Richard Cumberland’s treatise De legibus naturae (1672),[37]  as the first reasonably complete English evocation of the principle of utilitarian ethical philosophy. However it is Locke that Albee suggests is ‘popularly regarded not only as a Utilitarian, but as the founder of English Utilitarianism’ although Albee rejects this view.[38]  Hutcheson, again not utilitarian, according to Albee, because he suggested ‘the dignity or moral importance of persons may compensate numbers’,[39]  is credited, however, with being the English philosopher who coined the phrase that became the utilitarian formula: “That action is best, which procures the greatest happiness for the greatest numbers.”[40]

In relation to Bentham’s contact with the idea, the Westminster Review (established and owned by Bentham) picks up the story:

The first time the phrase of ‘the principle of utility’ was brought decidedly into notice, was in the Essays, by David Hume,’ published about the year 1742. In that work it is mentioned as the name of a principle which might be made the foundation of a system of morals, in opposition to a system then in vogue, which was founded on what was called the ‘moral sense.’ The ideas, however, there attached to it, are vague, and defective in practical application.

Nearly at the same time appeared in French the celebrated work of Helvetius ‘Sur l’Espirit.’ In this a commencement was made, of the application of the principle to practical use. A connection was established between the ideas attached to the word ‘ happiness,’ and those attached to the words ‘pleasure’ and ‘pain;’ by which a great advance was made in the development of the meaning of the terms ‘utility’ and ‘principle of utility’.

In 1749 appeared the work of David Hartley known by the title of ‘Hartley on Man.’ … In this a greater number of species were ranked under the two heads of pleasure and pain, than in the work of Helvetius; but the collection was still exceedingly defective.

In the year 1768 appeared a pamphlet of Dr. Priestley’s, written, as was his custom, in a hasty manner, and with little precise method; but containing in one of its pages the express phrase ‘the greatest happiness of the greatest number.’ And this was represented as a principle containing the only rational foundation of rules for human conduct.[41]

In the same year this pamphlet fell into the hands of Mr. Bentham at Oxford; he being at the time not quite twenty-one years of age. Like Archimedes on the discovery of the principle of hydrostatics, he exclaimed Eureka, and from that page of that pamphlet, was drawn the phrase, the import of which it has been the object of his subsequent writings to diffuse.’[42]

From this spark followed A Fragment on Government (1776), Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation (1781, but ‘brought into the state in which it now appears’[43]  in 1789) and Springs of Action (1817), all of which develop with the principle.[44]

Thus, Bentham, argued that ‘the object of good government might possibly be the carrying the diminution of evil, or the increase of happiness, to its maximum.’[45]

In this system ‘The paradox of the Stoics was dissolved by simple transposition; and instead of virtue making happiness, what makes the general happiness was virtue.’[46]

While this statement remains controversial in moral philosophy,[47]  it might be less so in political philosophy. The Westminster Review states:

And here was to be encountered in the outset the perplexing question, of why the production of the maximum of happiness ought to be the object of government. One possible response was, that it is the production of good. But why ought a government to follow after the production of good? – for to say that it cannot be a good government without it, is at best only an identical proposition. Cicero would have answered that it was because it was virtuous, becoming, or perhaps god-like; and philosopher Square would have said, it was because it was according to the fitness of things. But these are all reasons á l’antique; and would not in this day content a Mechanics Institute. Something might perhaps be done towards an answer, by Euclid’s mode improperly included under the title of reductio ad absurdum, or defying any body.[48]

More recently Braybook has observed that utilitarianism is best suited (and well suited) to a public policy setting, and is well adapted to the requirements of democracy.[49]  In this he refers to and echoes Goodin in Utilitarianism as a Public Philosophy:

The thesis of this book is that at least one normative theory, utilitarianism, can be a good normative guide to public affairs without its necessarily being the best practical guide to personal conduct.[50]

Thus happiness, as a basis for the organisation of government, has successfully spanned some 2,500 years, and remains a vital force.

 

Notes to Constitutional Happiness

[1]  Plato, c. 428/427 BC-c. 348/347 BC. See, for example, #P161, p6. ‘As so often, Plato made the first move. In his Gorgias and Republic he took his start from the recognition that we have plural and conflicting desires, aims, impulses, etc., and that somehow we have to deal with that fact. He can hardly have been the first to notice the fact of plurality and conflict, but he was the first to react to it systematically.’ [For #P references see bottom of page]

[2] Epicurus, 341 BC – 270 BC.

[3] Henry George Liddell, Robert Scott, HS Jones, A Greek – English Lexicon (ninth edition, with a supplement) Clarendon Press, Oxford 9th edition, 1968. )

[4] #P113 p262

[5] #P113 p321

[6] #P113 p321

[7] #P113 p321

[8] Note that Jowett incorrectly analyses the quote at #P113 p262 stating that ‘… Adeimantus … urges … that Socrates fails in making his citizens happy and is answered that happiness is not the first but the second thing, not the direct aim but the indirect consequence of the good government of a State’ . But Jowett seems to be confusing the citizens with the guardians. Plato (or Socrates) has it that the state is not made for the particular happiness of the guardians, but the happiness of the whole.  This is strongly associated with the state being organised for the ‘good of the whole’.  Thus ‘our aim in founding the State was …  the greatest happiness of the whole’ This is achieved in a state organised ‘with a view to the good of the whole’ where ‘we should be most likely to find justice’. Thus the state being organised for the good of the whole, where one is most likely to find justice is a means to the aim, greatest happiness of the whole.

[9] Jowett, Introduction, in #P113.

[10] Plato outlines the stages of political progression, with the worst being tyranny, at #P113 p391. Compare this also with Carlyle’s assessment of the true and proper outcome of the French Revolution, which was not democracy, but Napoleon’s rule. #P093 p[ref]

[11] #P138, Book I, Ch VIII.

[12] #P138, Book I, Ch VII

[13]  #P138, Book I, Ch I: ‘Since then of all things which may be done there is some one End which we desire for its own sake, and with a view to which we desire everything else; and since we do not choose in all instances with a further End in view (for then men would go on without limit, and so the desire would be unsatisfied and fruitless), this plainly must be the Chief Good, i.e. the best thing of all….

And now, resuming the statement with which we commenced, since all knowledge and moral choice grasps at good of some kind or another, what good is that which we say politikai aims at? or, in other words, what is the highest of all the goods which are the objects of action?

So far as name goes, there is a pretty general agreement: for HAPPINESS both the multitude and the refined few call it, and “living well” and “doing well” they conceive to be the same with “being happy;” but about the Nature of this Happiness, men dispute, and the multitude do not in their account of it agree with the wise.’ (Emphasis (capitalisation) in the translation)

[14]  Politics, Book III, Ch IX. Note in Russell ‘The end of the State is the good life … by which we mean a happy and honourable life.’ #P036, p197, quoting Politics 1280. Also see in #P036 p190.

Also see Politics Book III, Ch XIII:

It seems, then, requisite for the establishment of a state, that all, or at least many of these particulars should be well canvassed and inquired into; and that virtue and education may most justly claim the right of being considered as the necessary means of making the citizens happy.

Throughout Aristotle virtue is one means of attaining the ultimate goal, happiness.

God, too, is not excused from the equation, in Book VII, Ch I:

Let us therefore be well assured, that every one enjoys as much happiness as he possesses virtue and wisdom, and acts according to their dictates; since for this we have the example of GOD Himself, WHO IS COMPLETELY HAPPY, NOT FROM ANY EXTERNAL GOOD; BUT IN HIMSELF, AND BECAUSE SUCH IS HIS NATURE. (Emphasis in translation)

In Politics Book VII, Ch IX Aristotle emphasises the virtue is a means, and happiness the end to which that means is directed.

Since we are inquiring what is the best government possible, and it is admitted to be that in which the citizens are happy; and that, as we have already said, it is impossible to obtain happiness without virtue; it follows, that in the best-governed states, where the citizens are really men of intrinsic and not relative goodness, none of them should be permitted to exercise any mechanic employment or follow merchandise, as being ignoble and destructive to virtue; neither should they be husband-[1329a] men, that they may be at leisure to improve in virtue and perform the duty they owe to the state.

…for no mechanic ought to be admitted to the rights of a citizen, nor any other sort of people whose employment is not entirely noble, honourable, and virtuous; this is evident from the principle we at first set out with; for to be happy it is necessary to be virtuous; and no one should say that a city is happy while he considers only one part of its citizens, but for that purpose he ought to examine into all of them. It is evident, therefore, that the landed property should belong to these, though it may be necessary for them to have husbandmen, either slaves, barbarians, or servants.’ (My emphasis (italics))

[15]  #P036, p201

[16] #P036, p189

[17] #P175, p221

[18] #P175, p162ff. According to Preuss, the pleasure which Epicurus referred to was katastematic pleasure – a long term feeling of calm, and pleasure without any particular object. This feeling could survive while under torture. #P175 p172.

[19]. #P017 De Botton, video, Philosophy: a guide to happiness, 2002, Australian Broadcasting Corporation.

[20] #P208 p232-4

[21] #P208, p233. Nevertheless Cicero states:

So that of that true and elegant philosophy (which was derived from Socrates, and is still preserved by the Peripatetics and by the Stoics, though they express themselves differently in their disputes with the Academics) there are few or no Latin records; whether this proceeds from the importance of the thing itself, or from men’s being otherwise employed, or from their concluding that the capacity of the people was not equal to the apprehension of them. But, during this silence, C. Amafinius [an Epicurean] arose and took upon himself to speak; on the publishing of whose writings the people were moved, and enlisted themselves chiefly under this sect, either because the doctrine was more easily understood, or because they were invited thereto by the pleasing thoughts of amusement, or that, because there was nothing better, they laid hold of what was offered them. (From #P209 – Cicero, Tusculan Disputations (trans. C. D. Yonge), Harper & Brothers, New York, 1877, Book 4, Chapter 3)

In Cicero’s treatment, Epicureanism emerges as something of a fad, however.

[22] #P208 p192

[23] #P185, p76

[24] #P185, p95-6

[25] #P 185, p65, 76. Generally Epicurianism discouraged political activity, however Gaius Cassius gained from the philosophy the foundation from which to conclude that the tyrant Julius Caesar should be assassinated. Following this assassination Epicureans further opposed the elevation of a new tyrant, Marcus Antonius. (p76, referring to Momigliano, Review of Farrington, Science and Politics in the Ancient World, Journal of Roman Studies, XXXI (1941) 149-57.) As an example of the social reach of Epicureanism, a notable figure with Epicurean sympathies is L Calpurnius Piso Caesoninus, father-in-law of Julius Caesar, who housed at his villa in Herculaneum the Epicurean Philodemus of Gadara, who attracted a wide circle of students.

See also #P208 pvii ‘Epicurus … advocated an ethical philosophy that centered not on the polis but on the individual and his or her community of friends.

[26] #P185, p117

[27] Suo cimitero da questa parte hanno,

Con Epicuro tutti i suoi segauci,

Che l’anima col corpo morte fanno.

From La divina Commedia, Inferno, Canto X, 13-15

Quoted in #P185, p142

[28] #P185, p142

[29] #P185, p153

[30] #P185, pp142-156 generally.

[31] #P185 referring by example to Charleton, Apologie for Epicurus, prefix to Epicurus’s Morals in the form of ‘A Letter to a Person of Honour’.

[32] #P185, p197-200, 206

[33] #P185, p199, 202, referring to Walter Charleton, Epicurus’s Morals, 1656

[34] John Evelyn Essay on the First Book of T. Lucretius Carus, De Rerum Natura, 1656.

[35] Francis Bacon De principiis aque originibus, c1612, who adopted the atomism of Epicurus, Democritus and Leucippus. #P185, pp197-8.

[36] Thomas Stanley, The History of Philosophy, containing the Lives, Opinions, Actions and Discourses of the Philosophers of every Sect, 1660, ‘which allotted to Epicurus by far the largest section of the whole work’. #P185, p205.

[37] #P186, p1

[38] Albee’s rejection stems from Locke’s appeal to the laws of nature, and revelation. ‘Often, indeed, Locke is concerned to show that the practice of virtue is conducive to happiness; but this in itself, proves nothing. Nearly all his contemporaries, of whatever ethical school, did the same. It is wholly characteristic, when he speaks of Divine law as “the eternal, immutable, standard of right”. In fact, apart from certain more of less doubtful corollaries from his philosophical system … his ethical speculations were mainly on the theological plane.’ #P186, p53.

Russell sees Locke as anticipating Bentham, but notes that ‘Bentham, who was a free-thinker, substituted the human lawgiver in place of God’ #P036 pp592-3

[39] #P186, p60 quoting from Francis Hutcheson, An Inquiry into the Original of Our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue in Two Treatises, Liberty Fund, Indianapolis, 2004 (first published 1726) Section III, PartVIII, (p 125)

The full quote is:

…that in equal Degrees of Happiness, expected to proceed from the Action, the Virtue is in proportion to the Number of Persons to whom the Happiness shall extend; (and here the Dignity, or moral Importance of Persons, may compensate Numbers) and in equal Numbers, the Virtue is as the Quality of the Happiness, or natural Good; or that the Virtue is in compound Ration of the Quantity of Good, and Number of Enjoyers. (MVG, III.VIII)

[40] The formula was first used by Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz in a critical remark on Samuel Cocceji’s thesis De Principio Juris Naturalis Unico, Vero, et Adaequato (Frankfurt: Schrey/Hartmann, 1699). See Wolfgang Leidhold Introduction, in #P187, p x, referring to Hruschka, Joachim. “The Greatest Happiness Principle and Other Early German Anticipations of Utilitarian Theory.” Utilitas 3 (1991): 165-77, pp. 166-69

[41] Note that:

…in this, [Bentham’s] memory must have deceived him, for the phrase does not seem to have been used by Priestley.

So far as Bentham was concerned, its origin (as he in one place suggests) must be traced to Beccaria, the Italian jurist whose work on the penal law proceeded on the same principles as Bentham’s and had a notable effect upon the latter.

Beccaria’s book on Crimes and Punishments was translated into English in 1767, and, in this translation, the principle of utility is expressed in the exact words in which, through Bentham’s influence, it soon became both an ethical formula and a party watchword.

From The Cambridge History of English and American Literature in 18 Volumes (1907-21), Volume XI. The Period of the French Revolution.

[42] Westminster Review, July 1829, ‘Art. XVI. – Edinburgh Review, No. XCVII: Article on Mill’s Essay on Government, &c.’ 254 at 258-9. (Titled at each page head as ‘ “Greatest Happiness” Principle’.), p258-9.

One of the difficulties with using the Westminster Review as a source is that the articles are not attributed, however it is not in dispute that the Review was a mouthpiece for the views of the inner core of the utilitarian movement. The Review was set up in 1824 by Jeremy Bentham, and James Mill was a regular contributor. Where some knowledge is assumed of Bentham, or another of the inner core of utilitarians, it is not unreasonable to assume that these broadly reflect the views of the subject themselves

[43] Westminster Review, July 1829, ‘Art. XVI. – Edinburgh Review, No. XCVII: Article on Mill’s Essay on Government, &c.’ 254 at 258-9. (Titled at each page head as ‘ “Greatest Happiness” Principle’.), p259.

[44] Westminster Review, July 1829, ‘Art. XVI. – Edinburgh Review, No. XCVII: Article on Mill’s Essay on Government, &c.’ 254 at 258-9. (Titled at each page head as ‘ “Greatest Happiness” Principle’.), p259.

[45] Westminster Review, July 1829, ‘Art. XVI. – Edinburgh Review, No. XCVII: Article on Mill’s Essay on Government, &c.’ 254 at 258-9. (Titled at each page head as ‘ “Greatest Happiness” Principle’.), p260 (Emphasis in original)

[46] Westminster Review, July 1829, ‘Art. XVI. – Edinburgh Review, No. XCVII: Article on Mill’s Essay on Government, &c.’ 254 at 258-9. (Titled at each page head as ‘ “Greatest Happiness” Principle’.), p263.

[47] See for example #P025 generally.

[48] Westminster Review, July 1829, ‘Art. XVI. – Edinburgh Review, No. XCVII: Article on Mill’s Essay on Government, &c.’ 254 at 258-9. (Titled at each page head as ‘ “Greatest Happiness” Principle’.) p260

[49] #P045 generally.

[50] #P085 p4.

 

#P references in Notes to Constitutional Happiness

#P017   De Botton, video, Philosophy: a guide to happiness, 2002, Australian Broadcasting Corporation. (from the book)

#P025   Macintyre  After virtue – a study in moral theory

#P036   Bertrand Russell History of Western Philosophy – and its connection with Political and Social Circumstances from the Earliest Times to the Present Day.Routledge London 1991, first published 1946.

#P045   Braybrooke, David, Utilitarianism

#P085   Goodin, Robert E., Utilitarianism as a public philosophy, New York : Cambridge University Press, 1995.

#P093   Carlyle, French Revolution

#P113   Plato’s Republic, trans and with intro by Benjamin Jowett, from Project Gutenberg, at www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext98/repub11.txt

#P138   Aristotle, Nichomachean Ethics

#P161   Nicholas White, A Brief History of Happiness, Blackwell Publishing, Carlton, 2006

#P175   Preuss, Epicurean Ethics – Katastematic Hedonism, Studies in the History of Philosophy, Vol 35, the Edward Mellen Press, Lewiston, 1994

#P185   Howard Jones, The Epicurean Tradition, Routledge, London, 1989 [this book got my personal ‘good book award’]

#P186   Ernest Albee, A History of English Utilitarianism, Thoemmes, Bristol, 1902

#P208   Diskin Clay Paradosis and Survival – Three Chapters in the History of Epicurean Philosophy, University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor, 1998.

See also:
McMahon, The Pursuit of Happiness, A History from the Greeks to the Present, Allen Lane, London, 2006.

C. P. Rodocanachi , Athens and the Greek Miracle, Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd, London 1948.

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The following was written for a talk in 2008. Since then Australia’s Prime Minister, Kevin Rudd, has instituted a small committee to examine the issue of human rights in Australia. There seems some likelihood the Commonwealth will adopt rights legislation similar to that of Victoria and the ACT (see below). While this is probably the least worst position, I am unsure that Australia’s democratic record is such that it cries out for this additional centre of power, however dilute.

Under a non-rights system Australia has been at the forefront of the world in many reforms. Moreover, in my view (which will be found in other posts on this site) a rights discourse harkens back to old and outmoded forms of political association. Australia’s democratic system remains one of the most advanced in the world. The fact it lacks much reference to old and worn doctrines that remain in other countries’ political systems does not seem to me to be a great disadvantage. Australia’s uniqueness in this respect should be celebrated rather than regretted.

For my previous installment on rights, with particular reference to the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, see here.

 

 A rights-branded utilitarianism?

In his 1985 paper ‘Political Ideology in Australia: The Distinctiveness of a Benthamite Society’, Hugh Collins, now Master of Ormond College at Melbourne University, observes that Jeremy Bentham rejected the idea of natural rights. Indeed this is so. Bentham became famous for his critique of the ostensibly liberating idea of natural rights as stated in the Declaration of Rights published by the French National Assembly in 1791. He took the declaration sentence by sentence, and subjected it to a withering attack. For example he takes the sentence: ‘The end in view of every political association, is the preservation of the natural and imprescriptible rights of man.’

Of this Bentham states:

More confusion — more nonsense, — and the nonsense, as usual, dangerous nonsense. The words can scarcely be said to have a meaning: but if they have, … these would be the propositions either asserted or implied: –

1. That there are such things as rights anterior to the establishment of governments: for natural, as applied to rights, if it mean anything, is meant to stand in opposition to legal — to such rights as are acknowledged to owe their existence to government….

He acknowledges rights given in law, but not rights preceding government – natural rights. Thus he makes his famous declaration:

Natural rights is simple nonsense: natural and imprescriptible rights, rhetorical nonsense, — nonsense upon stilts.

For Bentham, rights were both dangerous, and a lawyers’ paradise.

In contrast to natural rights, rights given in law are merely human inventions, suitable for the time, and adjustable according to the needs of the polity. Rights in law can be designed to promote happiness, or a life well lived. Legal positivism allows the society control over its own affairs. Natural law mystifies that which ought to be in democratic control. According to the rhetoric of natural rights, the natural rights of the generation that sets them down must forever enslave future generations, for they are inalienable, and eternally true. In the broad concept, legal positivism sought to destroy this approach, and instead create a system whereby laws could reflect the will of the people, and be adjusted accordingly.

For Bentham, the task was to design a system of government and economy that properly allowed the people to govern and thrive – to design a system that did not involve a mystification that locked the people out of a say in the laws that governed them.

Australia largely adopted and developed Bentham’s system of positive law. For example, the South Australian colonial constitution was described by a contemporary as the only thorough Benthamite constitution in the world at the time. The other Australian colonies were not so far behind, adopting Benthamite constitutions and implementing reforms, including full male suffrage and later full female suffrage, equal electoral districts, regular parliamentary elections, the ballot, councils,  public gardens, sanitation, codification of the common law. The Torrens land registration system is Benthamite, first implemented in that Benthamite experiment, South Australia. Benthamites in South Australia and Victoria were world leaders in secret ballot innovation.

As a result of this activist program, Australians as a general rule do not discuss legislation in terms of rights. We tend to look to a cost-benefit analysis instead. What is the cost of bike helmet laws? Not much. What is the benefit? A great deal. The benefit does not accrue only to the individual who might escape brain injury, but to the public health system that is relieved of the cost burden of that brain injury. Ok, we say. Let’s legislate. We treat the freedom of speech in the same way. We do not feel inhibited, for example, to legislate for limits on free speech where that freedom interferes with social policy – defamation, criminal conspiracy, anti-bullying, restrictions on cinema and television, restrictions in trade practices, and restrictions in advertising.

In the United States the situation is different, and perhaps in the UK. In America, at least, legislation for bike helmets is understood to trample on individual freedoms, individual rights – the right not to wear a helmet, the right to act without interference from the state. Likewise, seat belt laws have been repealed in some states of the US on these grounds. Repealing seat belt laws in Australia is virtually unthinkable.

In Canada since the introduction of a bill of rights, corporations have claimed the right of free speech to advertise potentially damaging products outside of schools. They won in the courts. And there is nothing the legislature, the representatives of the people, can do about it.

In Australia up to now we have preferred utility to rights. As Terry Moran, the new head of the Commonwealth public service, appointed by Kevin Rudd, stated in February 2008 on his appointment: The public service is not ‘about boring administration, but about improving things – the Benthamite concept that the role of government is to achieve the greatest good for the greatest number.’

The second half of the 20th century saw a rise of rights discourse in the US and other countries. This trajectory was traced in 1979 by HLA Hart in his article ‘Utility and Rights’. He observed:

We are currently witnessing, I think, the progress of a transition from a once widely accepted old faith that some form of utilitarianism, if only we could discover the right form, must capture the essence of political morality. The new faith is that the truth must lie not with a doctrine that takes the maximisation of aggregate or average general welfare for its goal, but with a doctrine of basic human rights, protecting specific basic liberties and interests of individuals, if only we could find some sufficiently firm foundation for such rights to meet some long familiar objections.

Rights talk, even in Benthamite Australia, has become the fashion. The problem is that it is impossible to point to a right. Rights are merely a convenient invention, useful as a bargaining tool. Rights carry moral weight, but are weightless.

Bentham has it, for example:

Talk of right: – say a man has a right to such a thing in such a case, and we have no matter of fact to encumber ourselves with – When you have said he has a right – insist upon it -: … all proof is needless. The business is thus settled in a trice by the help of a convenient word or two, and without the pains of thinking.

But if we do think about it, what claim of rights is real, what is a genuine right, and what is not, what can be dismissed as a false claim? Can a person claim the right to marry whomever they choose? Seems fair. Can they marry a child? Surely not! But that form of matrimony, as I understand it, exists in many cultures. Should that cultural practice be permitted? Should that self-determination be a right?

Can a person marry any consenting adult then? Naturally, I suppose – that sounds fair. So a woman may marry a man who already has a wife? Can a woman have her daughter circumcised? Why not? Why does the girl’s right not to have her body tampered with trump the right of the woman to practice her culture? What are the limits to the freedom of speech? Why should we wear bike helmets?  These are not desert island philosophical contrivances designed to test a philosophy or idea at the extremes. Surely there is a guiding principle we can use other than merely the exercise of rhetorical, financial and physical power to decide what should be a right. The principle of power does not seem enough for a system that claims a high moral ascendency.

David Kennedy, an international lawyer, Manley Hudson Professor of Law and Director of the European Law Research Center at Harvard and human rights practitioner, raises some important issues in relation to human rights. In a talk at Harvard in 2007 he noted that human rights advocates have become significant players in the international realm, and he considered how their power might be exercised responsibly. In his book, The Dark Sides of Virtue, he observes that rights tend to fetishise the assessment of judges, are dependent on state power, and pretend to universal human truth. Moreover, as human rights have a general vocabulary of what is good, what is virtuous, they are arrogant.

One problem with human rights is that, at least on one reading, they are supposed to be universally true, eternal and inviolable. The only way around that is to make them culturally relative. Neither path is adequate.

Moreover, trumping is a key problem in rights. Which rights trump which? Should I have the right to practice my culture, or should my child be protected from female circumcision? Should I be able to advertise junk food outside schools or is some right belonging to children being trampled over?

The more one thinks about it, the more one gets entangled in a mess with no deliverance. Worse though, is the idea that the implementation of rights might cause harm. What then? What if, for example, cessation of female circumcision were to be such a heavy blow to the society that practices it that the culture disintegrates? One need only read of the culture of the Hofryat women in Janice Boddy’s account of women conducting female circumcision in Sudan to imagine such a possibility. Or, on a different note, Ellen Gruenbaum’s discussion of female circumcision suggests the girl you save may be unmarriageable. Have you done well making her an outcast? And what of the right to bear arms, claimed not only in the United States, but by socialists in the United Kingdom in the 1830 and 40s? As professor Robyn Eckersley at Melbourne University has said in support of rights, rights are superior to the cost-benefit analysis. For Eckersley rights should be implemented ‘whatever the cost’.

In relation to possible harm caused by the implementation of rights, David Kennedy notes:

Although I find it hard to take too seriously the idea that rights exist in some way, let us assume that they do, and that the human rights movement is getting better and better at discovering and articulating them. If it turned out that doing so caused more misery than it alleviated, because human rights turned out to be more part of the problem than the solution, then, as a good-hearted legal professional, I would advocate our doing all we can to keep the existence of rights a secret. In a similar way, if it turns out that rights are “just” a fantasy, a social construction, and so forth, that tells us nothing about whether they are useful or not.  If they are a more useful than not, more power to the society which constructed them. (Dark Side of Virtue, p7)

We have begun to enter a land of mirages, where whatever we want to be true we will say is true, and whatever we don’t want to be true we will hide. Bentham’s comments about lawyers rubbing their hands in glee begins to make sense.

But there is something going on in Kennedy’s discussion that seems to be way outside the rights discourse. In fact rights are being subjected to a test that has nothing to do with inviolability, eternality, or universal truth, and only a slim association with a culturally relativist approach too.

In his book the Dark Sides of Virtue, Kennedy leads us to a conclusion that rights should be viewed pragmatically. Rights, he says, should be subject to a cost-benefit analysis.

Now, it just so happens that the cost-benefit analysis is a hallmark not of a rights society, but a utilitarian one – remember the bike helmets? As Philip Schofield, Professor of Law and director of the Bentham Project at the University College London, observes, ‘In economics, cost-benefit analysis can be seen to have its origin in Bentham’s utilitarian methodology.’ Indeed, Bentham is all about the cost-benefit analysis with happiness as the end.

If rights are to be subject to a cost benefit analysis, we are really back where we started, with a rights-branded utilitarianism.

 

 A bill of rights?

The desired function of a bill of rights as part of the constitution is that it prevents the legislature unfairly legislating against minorities, or even majorities. It does this by placing into the hands of judges a significant power over legislation. To implement a constitutional bill of rights in Australia we will have to have a referendum. We are going to ask a significant majority of the population to declare that they have so little faith in themselves that they should hand over the final say on the legislation their representatives pass to a group of unelected lawyers holding ultimate power, and over whom the electorate have no immediate control. We will create a kind of third house, a House of unelected, and irremoveable Lords – a few select individuals who have the power to shape legislation beyond anything now provided for in the current constitution.

Think of abortion law in the United States. Here the majority have control of it. There they don’t. We will wait with bated breath for a decision from on high about how we should live. And if we don’t like it, forget about casting a vote against the perpetrator at the next election. We will just do as they say, or face the sanction of the state. The only way to change the new law will be by referendum.

However, Victoria has legislation that promtes rights. Using this judges may comment on the rights-values in particular legislation.  This rights legislation is amendable by no special procedure – it is amendable by the legislature. In interpreting that act, should a judge overstep the bounds of social expectation, the legislature can intervene. A constitutional bill of rights is a whole different ball-game.

So it is that Sam Crosby, on giving up his role as leader of Young Labour in 2008, spoke against a bill of rights, suggesting it could be used to prevent the implementation of a reformist agenda. A report of Crosby’s position states:

 Crosby points to the situation in Canada. “The right to free speech means that tobacco companies can advertise as freely as they like due to the interpretation of an unelected judge. And it means the judiciary is increasingly politicised to the point where Canadians are now, for the first time, calling on judges to be elected, because judges are called on to make political decisions.”  This was no airy-fairy, feel-good love-in, says Crosby. They debated the transfer of power to judges and the ramifications for parliamentary democracy.  “A charter transfers power away from elected parliaments to unrepresentative judges who don’t have to account to anyone, who are not elected and who are largely unscrutinised.” He says that Labor’s entire history “is a belief in legislatures, in forming governments, in representing people in government. We are not a party that believes in handing massive swathes of power to judges.”

And so it is that New South Wales Labor Attorney-General in 2008, Mr Hatzistergos, has expressed grave misgivings about a bill of rights.

To conclude:

As an early Australian agitator for democratic institutions wrote in 1839, ‘The greatest improvement in political constitutions that has occurred has been that of introducing into them the principle of responsibility to the people, and the beautiful machinery to which we allude is that of the responsibility of the governing to the governed.’

That matters of great importance to the people should not be ‘investigated and deliberated upon in public assemblies’1 but be transferred to the courts is a direct challenge to the most fundamental principles of Australian democracy that have held sway since the first significant struggles for democracy in the 1830s, and that were finally implemented in the 1840s and 1850s under the influence of utilitarian constitutional reform. It would see a substantial change to the foundation of our democracy – the primacy of the will of the people expressed though an empowered executive.

It also represents a move from our utilitarian culture to a virtue culture, attempting to create objective rules (spun in fact from thin air, but presented as high wisdom) – objective rules to govern the implementation of policies that the citizens of this country, by definition, are not felt sufficiently responsible enough to generate for themselves through the electoral process – rules, apparently, that the people do not want, but are to have only distant and awkward control over, through the notoriously difficult referendum process.

If rights are to make a direct appearance in our Commonwealth legislation it should be only with the explicit acknowledgment that they are human inventions subject to change and amendment, and are not in any way, as Navi Pillay put it, ‘absolute, universal, indivisible’. Pillay’s form of absolutism (her word!) should be unwelcome on these shores.

The solution to social problems is not the enforcement of a set of objective moral codes over which, after writing, the people have limited control. Instead, the solution is the dissemination of information, public education, public debate, public awareness, public pressure – that messy process of public engagement that stirs the country. The solution is, in fact, the system we already have. Sound basic educational standards are critical to this process. This seems a better approach than creating a system of constitutional rights. It preserves the foundational principles of our society, principles which have facilitated the creation of one of the most successful and responsive societies in the world.

1. James Macarthur, quoted in A.C.V. Melbourne, Early Constitutional Development in Australia, St Lucia: University of Queensland Press, 1963 []

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This post is the first of two on rights. Bentham was no friend of natural rights, and up until recently rights have had small play in Australian political discourse. Hugh Collins, in Political Ideology in Australia: The Distinctiveness of a Benthamite Society1 discusses the uneasy place a rights discourse has had in Australia when it has been invoked.

In my view much rights discussion is confused, or at least, I find it confusing. The next post will discuss this at some length, but this post is a teaser. The main feature of this post is an interview between BBC radio’s Owen Bennett-Jones and Navi Pillay, the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, on The Interview, aired 12 December 2008.

Some questions emerge from the interview.  Do rights only emerge as ‘demands of the population’ and/or as the written UN Declaration of Human Rights? Which part of the population makes the demands worth paying attention to? The majority? A minority? A committee? An elected government? Or maybe just one person? If one person, the king or the cobbler? Where is the cut-off line?

Remember there is a lot at stake here, because as Pillay says, rights are ‘absolute, universal, indivisible, interrelated’.

Who in the population gets to utter words of such profundity? Which population too? If President Mugabe declares some right or other does that instantly and irrevocably bind the rest of the world? What if Mr. Jones of 25 Democracy St, Albuquerque should declare some human right in relation to some dispute he is having? Who is bound? Or a child declares a right to eternal lollies? Fair enough!

And what on earth is ‘indivisible’ doing in there? And what ever did happen to that pesky right to bear arms?

I am not against a rights discourse, but in my view rights should be seen as human inventions written down as a kind of social agreement about where legislation, or government, or others, should or should not travel. Mystifying them to give them weight in my view merely reduces their credibility. When someone comes to me declaring that their opinion is actually an absolute and universal truth I begin to get suspicious, be it in an argument over who gets the last tea-bag or anything else.

The alternative is that there is a group of all-wise people (probably academics and lawyers) who can be consulted for their wisdom, and who are entirely impartial in their translation of esoteric truths to which they alone have access – no, wait, there was something about  ‘demands of the population’…

I prefer the idea of a society built on negotiation and compromise rather than one built on the tyranny of someone’s or some group’s opinions, elevated to absolute truth. To me that sounds like scary middle-ages stuff. Each system – democratic compromise and rights-as-truth – presents its own dangers. Each in its own way is a potential vehicle for majoritarianism, and for ‘minoritarianism’.

I have heard people on the radio and elsewhere give long disquisitions about what is and what is not a right in certain situations. Where did they get this amazing knowledge? I have been studying very hard at uni for at least ten years and I have never seen the book that lets me in on this secret. Maybe the Baillieu Library forgot to buy it. Maybe it is not in a book, but requires deep spiritual searching. There is no Meditation for Rights 101 at Melbourne University. Could it actually just be mere opinion these disquisitors are expressing? When I begin to listen to them with this in mind their earnest promulgations become laughable.

Sad to say, Navi Pillay, presumably the best the UN can produce on the subject, did little to dispel my doubts.

And here is the interview, beginning at 10 minutes and 16 seconds, when the topic of rights was introduced:

OBJ: Well, let me ask you about human rights. I would like to ask you whether they exist?
NP: Human rights exist. It was all written up 6 years ago in the universal declaration of human rights.
OBJ: 60 years ago.
NP: 60 years ago. And the principles written then are true today. All of us embrace those human rights principles – the right to life, the right to dignity, the right to social and economic rights. What is absent is a vigorous implementation of those rights. There are huge gaps in implementation. That’s where I come in as High Commissioner.
OBJ: I’d like to go back though before the implementation of this document, because there it is, as you say, 60 years ago the universal declaration of human rights…. Now I was surprised to read only 48 countries actually voted for it and yet people such as yourself say it has universal application.
NP: It is a founding document of the United Nations. It’s now international law that every member of the United Nations by virtue of membership undertakes obligations to observe the founding documents.
OBJ: And yet it is in some ways out of date isn’t it?
NP: It’s been fleshed out in many significant ways. Economic and social rights, we have a convention. Civil and political rights, we have a convention. And numerous – like the Convention on the rights of the child, the Convention against discrimination of women, and more recently on the Convention on disabilities – so it’s been fleshed out in many other documents.
OBJ: But what I’m getting at is that you would see it as, I think, as a permanent statement of human rights, and it isn’t, because human rights change, they’re not permanent. For instance, sexuality is not in that document – the right to your own sexuality. And yet now, if someone was writing that document, they would definitely include it. So what does that tell you about human rights and how universal and permanent they are?
NP: Well it tells me the original document the universal declaration sets out the universal norms to which we all subscribe.  Subsequent developments have im…, have met – gone along with evolving time – evolving, not even new rights, the realisation of the rights …
OBJ: Well that’s the crucial point, you’ve put your finger on it, not new rights. But they are new rights aren’t they?
NP: No, they were always demands of the population.  They were not, in that point in time – see the right to sexual orientation at that point in time was not spelt out in the universal declaration but has been, and is being, in subsequent documentation.
OBJ: Yes, but prehistoric man would not have missed the right to a fair trial, there were no lawyers, there were no judges.
NP: Yeah, well I’m not referring to a prehistoric document. I’m referring…
OBJ: No, no, but you’ve missed my point that these things change, I mean, you know, they’re not as absolute as I suspect you would like to argue they are.
NP: The rights set out in the universal declaration are absolute, universal, indivisible, interrelated. I agree with you, there are huge gaps. There are many countries who resist rights that they think are western devised, Western oriented.  Well, these are all different, divergent points of view.
OBJ: Yes, but they may be right. Take China for example.  Do you think a Chinese person has the same rights as an American person, human rights?
NP: A Chinese person is entitled to the same rights as other persons in the United States or anywhere in the world.
OBJ: But they are different societies and they have different moral values. So why shouldn’t a Chinese person be able to say look, you know, we think that old people have the right not to be put in old people’s homes, we take that seriously, you don’t do that in the West, in the West you have democracy we don’t. I mean they’re different.
NP: You have to take into account local context, cultural concerns.  In Africa, for instance, there are very concerned with community rights, not only individual rights.  But elderly people have a right to dignity, and even the Chinese will agree with that.
OBJ: The Chinese certainly would; it’s a question of whether the West does. What I’m trying to get at is I’m not convinced there is a universal – I mean, for instance, if a Chinese person says, well quite as most do, we are quite happy with one-party rule, it’s working fine.
NP: Yeah, that’s at the implemental, implementation level, the interpretation of how they are going to apply that, that norm.  A different country may interpret it differently in terms of their context.  My job is to ensure human rights are respected in the way countries interpret these norms.

Pillay seems to be reaching for the idea of dignity as the common denominator of rights. If so, rights are not the only way to ensure dignity. In any case, what is the dignity of a rape victim who cannot have an abortion because the foetus has a right to life? What is the dignity of a girl ostracised from her community because she has not been circumcised? What is the dignity of the victim of handgun use in a society with the right to bear arms? Where is the dignity in a society where competing claims for rights tears it apart – where negotiation and compromise are crushed under the demands of absolute right, absolute truth? These are hard issues, but rights, as currently endorsed, make them easy. The child lives, the girl is not circumcised, the person is shot, and the civil war continues. C’est la vie, ce sont les droits.

There are many paths to dignity, and I suspect that a claim for absolute priority of one’s own opinion on a matter is a less fruitful foundation for a society than a polity trained to compromise. Rights are exactly not about compromise.

In the meantime, the rights doctrine allows the UN to make judgments upon actions within states on the basis of expressing a universal truth. Without the claim to universal truth, comments made and actions taken under a rights doctrine would need to gain legitimacy by some other means, such as democratic agreement – means not available to the United Nations. Rights, in other words, are a system for the manufacture of power and authority.

1. Australia, the Daedalus Symposium, edited by S. R. Graubard. North Ryde, N.S.W.: Angus & Robertson, 1985. []

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Henry Samuel Chapman, 1867

Henry Chapman was born in England in 1803. As a young man he was sent by his employer to work in Canada.  Here he began to take an interest in politics. After the introduction of the Reform Bill in England in 1832 Chapman happened to be in Bath where he assisted with the election campaign of John Roebuck. Roebuck won the election. Aside from his other duties, Roebuck became the spokesperson for Canadian interests in Westminster. Chapman returned to Canada in 1833 where he set up a newspaper. The paper soon failed, but the liberal tone of the paper prompted the Assembly of Lower Canada to send him to London as a representative. Thus he joined forces with Roebuck a second time. Chapman became associated with philosophical radical causes. He wrote in favour of the establishment of South Australia. He attended a debate between Francis Place, Robert Owen and William Lovett at a meeting of the London Working Men’s Association at Lovett’s coffee shop. As a moral force Chartist, he wrote in favour of the Charter. He wrote for good government, reciting the Benthamite formula:

The object of Reform is to obtain good government, that which secures to the great body of the people the greatest aggregate of happiness … of the several instruments of government, by far the most important in its effects upon the happiness of the community is the body in which the power of making laws resides—in other words, the Parliament’. Parliament, however, was not representative of the people, and, like all parliaments, was concerned solely to promote the interests of the class by which it was chosen. Thus it followed, ‘that good government cannot be attained but by an extension of the suffrage to the great body of the people. [In Pamphlets for the People, no 22, published by John Roebuck]

Having studied to be a barrister, in 1843 Chapman migrated to New Zealand where he became a judge. His judicial duties were not onerous, and, as Neale puts it:

he spent his time as a Benthamite should. He established rules of procedure for the Wellington Court and, in co-operation with Chief Justice Martin, laid down a system of procedure for the Supreme Court of New Zealand, which became the forerunner of the existing Code of Civil Procedure.1

In 1852 Chapman moved to Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania) where he became colonial secretary. However a dispute with the Governor over transportation – Chapman opposed it – meant he resigned his position. In 1854 Chapman published a 39 page pamphlet advocating responsible government for the Australian colonies (see useful references below).

Having lost his position as colonial secretary, Chapman moved to Melbourne, Victoria, in  1854 or 1855. In 1855 he defended one of participants in the Eureka stockade incident at Ballarat. But his greatest claim to fame is a piece of legislation he drafted for the colonial legislature.

Before continuing the reader is provided with a little warning note: the story of the ballot appears to be tinged with state parochial interests. Each state, Victoria, Tasmania and South Australia have their own versions. The most recent, the Tasmanian story by Newman, seems the most balanced. The Victorian version of the story is retailed by Scott and added to by Neale (refs below), and that is the one that follows next.

Radicals had been demanding the secret ballot for many years. The secret ballot was, for example, one of the six points of the Charter, written in 1838. In Victoria in 1856 the political tide had moved in such a way that legislation for the ballot was to be drafted, with every expectation that, if the legislation was sound, it would be passed in the legislature. There was only one problem. While many had argued for the secret ballot, no-one had ever got down to designing such a system – one that could cope with such contingencies as widespread illiteracy. It was expected by those who opposed the ballot that, in fact, the task would defeat the proponents of the system. Enter Chapman. With extensive legal experience, and a long association with radical politics, including the campaign for the secret ballot, he first designed a system and then reduced it to paper, drafting the first legislation in the world for the secret ballot. The system involved crossing out names one did not want to vote for, leaving the name of the candidate of choice, and putting the slip in a box. Sounds simple, but reading the various suggestions in Scott’s articles (see references below) it becomes apparent just how difficult it was to get over the problem of illiteracy while maintaining adequate secrecy, combined with a simplicity of system.

Now it is time to complicate matters…

As Scott and Neale have it the first time anyone had cast their mind to the functioning of a secret ballot was in January 1856. There was, in their version, no literature or record of debate or discussion about the matter prior to that. In broad detail the above story is correct. However it lacks acknowledgement of two developments. The first is that, according to Combe, a system for the implementation of the secret ballot was introduced into the South Australian Electoral Bill sometime during December 1855.  RD Hanson is given the credit for the clauses, and Kingston for putting forward notice, on the 7th of November 1855, that the secret ballot would be sought.

Combe is moved to observe that:

Although South Australia’s proposals for voting by ballot were initiated a month before Victoria’s scheme, the Victorian legislation became law on 19th March, 1856, a fortnight before assent was given to South Australia’s Electoral Bill. Subsequently the ballot was widely adopted for Parliamentary elections; the British and Canadian methods, inaugurated in 1872 and 1874 respectively, were essentially South Australian.

In Van Diemen’s Land however, clauses describing a system for secret ballot appeared in the Parliament Bill,  introduced into the Legislative Council on December 1, 1855.

Moreover, Newman suggests that ‘through his continued association with Tasmanian MLCs Chapman-like clauses appeared in Tasmania’s Electoral Bill.’  Thus both VDL and Victoria had a system where the desired candidate’s name on the paper was left untouched while the undesired candidates’ names were to be struck through with a line.  However in Victoria the registration number of the voter was to be placed on the back of the paper, while in South Australia and VDL this was not the case.

Obvious questions arise from these added facts. One of particular interest is who influenced whom in the development of the ideas? This, remarkably, appears to be, as yet, an untold historical story. The indications for a strong inter-colonial influence or discussion are strong. All states adopted a paper and box system, with variations. This was by no means inevitable as many other devices had been proposed such as using coloured balls. Moreover the three colonies commenced a serious attempt at the introduction of the secret ballot within a few days of each other in December 1855. And, as noted above, some specifics of the system were shared. Who actually won the race is of little moment, but where the ideas came from, what was the ‘zeitgeist’ in a distant pocket of the world that allowed three contiguous colonies to embark on the same project at a near identical moment, well ahead of the rest of the world, is of significant interest. What is notable is that the influence of Benthamism, through key figures such as Kingston and Chapman, is readily observable in at least Victoria and South Australia, and given Chapman’s association with VDL, perhaps in that colony too.

Anyhow, the table below showing relevant dates and other info, suggests that the implementation of the idea was so close, and the legislation similar enough, that some exchange of ideas between the colonies must have taken place at some point, most likely prior to December 1855.

 Useful references

Combe, Gordon, Responsible Government in South Australia, Adelaide : Government Printer, 1957

 R. S. Neale, ‘H. S. Chapman and the “Victorian” Ballot’, Historical Studies, Australia and New Zealand, vol 12, no 48, Apr 1967, pp 506-21;

Terry Newman, ‘Tasmania and the Secret Ballot’, Australian Journal of Politics and History, Vol 49, No 1, 2003, pp93-101

Scott, Ernest, The History of the Victorian Ballot, The Victorian Historical Magazine, Vol VIII, November, 1920, No. 1, p1-14

 Scott, Ernest, The History of the Victorian Ballot, The Victorian Historical Magazine, Vol VIII, May, 1921, No. 2, p49-62

 Chapman in the Australian Dictionary of Biography.

 Chapman in the Encyclopaedia of New Zealand

 Pamphlet by Chapman, Henry S. (Henry Samuel), 1803-1881. Parliamentary government; or responsible ministries for the Australian colonies/ by H. S. Chapman.  Hobart : Printed and published by Pratt and Son, 1854. Description: 39 p. (See a copy of the original pamphlet at the State Library of Victoria, and here is a link to their catalogue entry)

 

Table of events

 

State Date Electoral Bill introduced into parliament Royal assent Author First election with secret ballot
Victoria 19 Dec 1855, Parl votes for secret ballot, but matter does not proceed. Victoria Electoral Bill introduced 6 Feb 1856 without provision for secret ballot. 23 Feb 1856 the clauses introduced to the bill. Governor’s assent 19 March 1856, and proclaimed 29 March 1856.(Queen’s assent not sought) Henry Chapman after 16 Jan 1855.Introduced to parl by Nicholson. 27 August 1856 (LC),23 Sept 1856 (LA)(Newman)
Tasmania Parliament Bill introduced 1 Dec 1855. Renamed Electoral Act, passed on 4 Feb 1856. Governor’s assent 7 Feb 1856.Queen’s assent gained and returned on 24 Sept 1856.Gazetted 30 Sept, 1856.   6 Oct 1856 (LC)8 Sept 1856 (LA)
South Australia 2 Nov 1855(Newman p96) without provision for secret ballot.This probably introduced into the bill sometime during December 1855 by Richard Hanson (Combe). Governor’s assent. 2 April 1856.Leg’n arrives back in SA with Queen’s assent 24 Oct 1856. Kingston notifies house on 7 Nov 1855 of intention to introduce secret ballot into the bill.Secret ballot aspect introduced by Richard Hanson.Boothby introduced the idea of crossing a box. 9 March 1857 both (Newman)
Britain       1872
NZ       1874
NSW       1858 (adopted the system – what does this mean?) (Newman p94)
Qld       1859 (adopted the system – what does this mean?) (Newman p94)
WA       1877 (adopted the system – what does this mean?) (Newman p94)

Most of the information in the table comes from Newman, who also has a slightly less extensive table in his article. If you know of any dates and so forth to add, let me know. Reading Combe closely has given me a different date for the first introduction of the ballot clauses in South Australia from the date used by Newman. I can only imagine that all these things would be pretty easily verifiable.

The Vic system required the recording of the roll number on the back of the form so not as secret as those of SA and Tas.

According the Newman, while some of Chapman’s clauses appear in the Tas legislation, there are sufficient differences between the SA and Tas legislation to suggest they were developed independently of each other.

1. R. S. Neale, ‘H. S. Chapman and the “Victorian” Ballot’, Historical Studies, Australia and New Zealand, vol 12, no 48, Apr 1967, pp 506-21 []

 

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Bryce and Dicey

Two towering figures of late nineteenth century constitutional law are Albert Venn Dicey and James Bryce. Their views were valued by Presidents and Prime Ministers. Their works were the key works consulted by those who wrote the Australian constitution. There are frequent references to Bentham  in private letters to each other, but I like the one below particularly. Note that these are hastily type-written letters between friends, and the spelling and grammar can be imperfect:

18 August 1905, Dicey to Bryce

Your letter raises an interesting & perplexing question – how far was a man who gives his name to a movement in reality of great influence on the course of the movement? My answer in the case of Bentham is this.

If he had never existed, many of the changes he & his school advocated would ere thes [sic] have taken place. This holds I fancy of the intellectual or moral leader of every great movement, even of Xtianity [sic] itself. Then too it is the inevitable tendency of all of us to identify a general movement of thought with some man who gave his name to it. From what I have read, as an ignoramus, & from what I have heard definitely said by Huxley, I infer that Bacon did a good deal to preach belief in science but did in reality to promote it. [sic]

But when all these & the like reflections are taken into account, I deliberately think that at the present day, we are more likely to underrate than to overrate the influence of Bentham. A man is sometimes best understood from his failures. Consider from this point of view his attempt to found the Panopticon or model prison. His faith in it is shown by his proposal to be himself the jailor. The ingenuity of the plan by its being all but adopted by Parliament & his having been actually granted some 30,000 pounds, if my memory does not deceive me in compensation for the expenses incurred by him on a plan not ultimately carried out. This by the way is also a curious proof of his influence. The points on wh. [which] I want in this matter to insist is [sic] that Bentham possessed two very rare qualities. He had the gifts of an inventor. He persuaded his generation or rather the best men of it that laws could be systematically reformed on distinct principles with a view to the public good & further e.g. as to procedure thought out the steps by wh. this could be done. Suppose even that his views of public good were erroneous or as I should suppose imperfect, consider how few have been the cases in wh. the preachers of law reform have thought out even a tolerable system.  If a man of Bentham’s talent could at the present day think out a systematic scheme of Socialist reform or innovation. Suppose he had made himself a master of the existing law of England. Suppose he had preached his doctrine for 50 or 60 years. Suppose he had at last now when the world is clearly tending towards socialism created a small school of ardent disciples & gained the attention of leading politicianss. His influence might, in my judgment be disastrous but would I think be enormous. And all that I have supposed is, I think, true of Bentham. His absurdities & pedantries were in later life patent. Sydney Smith derided & Macaulay attacked the Utilitarians. Yet they are both careful to speak with respect of Bentham. James Mill & Place were the most self-assertive & crabbed & hardest of men, yet they both gloried in being B’s disciples. Bulwer whose whole aim was to represent the predominant sentiment of every time in wh. he wrote gives in his earlier writings great consideration to benthamism. [sic]

Of course I entirely admit that B’s work was carried on by men only indirectly influenced by him. Still I believe that his influence really was far greater than we now imagine.

Bentham scores several mentions in their correspondence. Dicey’s views on Bentham’s influence might be seen in thee letter above as a little equivocal, though it seems fair to suggest that it finally settles on the idea the influence was profound. Some further mentions add a liitle weight to the place of Bentham in their thoughts.

30 Sept 1902, Dicey to Bryce

On the matter of poor relief bentham [sic] & his School were surely absolutely in the right.

14 November 1914, Bryce to Dicey

But surely the badness of present legislation is a reason why men should, like Bentham, devote themselves to improving it.

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As much as I would like to tell all about Charles Buller (1806-1848), there is so much to say that I daren’t start or I might never stop. So instead I have provided some links at the bottom of the page.

In Australia, Buller is remembered by the name of the snow-capped mountain (Mount Buller, just in case there was some confusion). Apparently it was named by Major Mitchell on his journey to what Mitchell referred to as Australia Felix – nowadays more or less known as Victoria. That might be so, but I checked out the book Mitchell wrote about that journey1 and, on 11 Oct 1836, as he is passing some peaks that seem to answer to the location of Mt. Buller he observes that it is years since he has seen snowy ‘pics’ (that is how he spells ‘peaks’) and he makes no mention of any naming going on. Still, maybe all that is in more detailed diaries or reports. For naming rights Mitchell is the key candidate, so I guess it must be so.

The nice thing about naming a mountain after Buller is that the radicals in the British parliament, of whom Buller was one, had been nicknamed with an anglicised version of the French nickname for the sans-culottes, primary movers of the French revolution. (Read more about this at Wikipedia, The Columbia Encyclopedia, and here.) The sans-culottes sat high in the assembly, and so were known as ‘the mountain’. Thankfully their political tendencies do not transfer directly to the utilitarians – the sans-culottes were also primary drivers of the rather nasty events of that revolution – but the general position of radicalism does transfer.

Here is an example of the use of the term, in a letter from Lord Brougham to Earl Grey, 14 Dec, 1809. 2

I forgot to say t’other day, in answer to your last letter, how well I remembered the passage in your speech alluded to. I have repeated it a thousand times in answer to the mountain; but I think them excessively unfair and even tricky in their way of stating things, and one can’t help recollecting that when you were in office they said nothing of this kind.

This is considerably earlier than the philosophical radical period (after 1832), but, as I understand it, the nickname continued.

Buller is also a good candidate for having a mountain named after him because he was tall himself. In Tait’s Edinburgh magazine (William Tate) he is described so:

‘[Buller] is a fine, manly-looking, sensible Radical; good-humoured and bouyant in expression, about six-feet high, and stout in proportion to his height.’

The average height recorded (for the criminal classes, anyhow) at the time for males was around 5′5”.3.

All this goes to remind us when we are skiing on Mt. Buller that it is all about pleasure - the foundation of Bentham’s philosophy. Avoid the broken leg though – that’s the pain bit of Bentham’s ideas.

Enough of mountains.

Buller was criticised as being too fond of a laugh to be taken as a serious force in parliament. I suppose if you are going to be sidelined one could not hope for a more agreeable reason. Meanwhile, Carlyle, who was his tutor, waxed lyrical about Buller’s character and abilities. Despite a tendency for some to discount Buller on the grounds of flippancy, the Benthamite radicals went on to make the most fundamental changes to the way government was done – in the UK, but most particularly in the colonies. In all this Buller was a key player. So really, in the end, good humour won the day. The real obstacle to Buller’s political career was that worst career move of all – premature death. He died at 42 years old.

You can get a sense of Buller’s humour in his Responsible Government For Colonies. His description of the Colonial Office in Downing Street is a mix of Yes Minister [p65ff], The Office [around p74], and Kafka [p94-96].

 

Links

Responsible Government For Colonies.

Buller in Dictionary of Canadian Biography Online

Buller in Wikipedia

 

Books

Wrong, EM, Charles Buller and Responsible Government, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1926

William Bland, Letters to Charles Buller, Junior, Esq, M. P., from The Australian Patriotic Association, Sydney, Printed by D. L. Welch, Atlas Office, George Street, Opposite the Barrack Gate, 1849

Report and Despatches of the Earl of Durham of British North America, London, Ridgways, 1839  (Buller was part of this mission and had considerable input, at one time being considered the main author of the report. See at Google Books. Oddly, there is a repeat version at Google Books here. I haven’t checked to see if there is info in one that is not in the other.)

——————————–

1. Three expeditions into the interior of eastern Australia : with descriptions of the recently explored region of Australia Felix, and of the present colony of New South Wales by T.L. Mitchell. Vol 2., p295 []

2. From Henry Lord Brougham, The Life and Times of Henry Lord Brougham, William Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh, 1871, 3 vols, p487 []

3. See Paul Johnson and Stephen Nicholas, Male and Female Living Standards in England and Wales, 1812-1857: Evidence From Criminal Height Records, The Economic History Review, New Series, Vol. 48, No. 3, (Aug., 1995), pp. 470-481 []

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The cartoon above, by Sir John Tenniel, published in Punch, shows, among others, Disraeli and Robert Lowe. Part of the text reads ‘You Lowe, will write a paper on the ‘Application of the Screw.’ I wonder if anyone knows what the term ‘Screw‘ is referring to?

A hint perhaps…? Lowe is described as a Benthamite in his biography, Illiberal Liberal by Ruth Knight, 1966. The bio concentrates on his time in Australia, during the 1840s.

 Meanwhile, in his 1831 novel, The Young Duke, Disraeli refers to “The Screw and Lever”. All the context suggests he is referring to a philosophical radical (Benthamite) review, perhaps the Westminster Review .

 From either context I’d like to know what ’screw’ refers to,1 and if both uses refer to the same thing. Lowe was not keen on widening the franchise, but many of his other policies reflect Benthamite concerns.

 Presuming the term does refer to the Benthamites, especially in the case of The Young Duke, it would be fair to think that in part it is a play on the idea of ‘utilitarian’, and that it is also referring to the association of the utilitarians with artisans and workers. However I am inclined to think that Disraeli would be playing with one or two more associations than that, making the phrase a little wittier. Similarly, if it survived over thirty years I suspect it had a little more to it.

 For more about The Young Duke, see here.

1. By the way, I know what you are thinking. First I have no idea if the word ’screw’ had that connotation then, and secondly, if  it did, it seems that any hint in that direction might be a little too risque for the era – or maybe not?  I guess a modern example of a non-sexual slang use of the word screw might be ‘I’m gonna screw the bastard’ (revenge), or ‘I’ll screw it out of him’ (intention to get something from someone). I don’t know that either of these necessarily has a sexual content – then again maybe I’ve just always had it wrong… []

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The last couple of posts have dealt with Bentham’s reforms. Here is what legislation looked like before Bentham got to it.

The following excerpt is from The Book Hunter by John Hill Burton, first published 1862, but here using the 1883 ed. See the 1862 edition at Google books.

The history of statute-making is not absolutely divested of pleasantry. The best tradition connected with it at present arising in the memory is not to be brought to book, and must be given as a tradition of the time when George III. was king. Its tenor is, that a bill which proposed, as the punishment of an offence, to levy a certain pecuniary penalty, one half thereof to go to his Majesty and the other half to the informer, was altered in committee, in so far that, when it appeared in the form of an act, the punishment was changed to whipping and imprisonment, the destination being left unaltered.

It is wonderful that such mistakes are not of frequent occurrence when one remembers the hot hasty work often done by committees, and the complex entanglements of sentences on which they have to work. Bentham was at the trouble of counting the words in one sentence of an Act of Parliament, and found that, beginning with “Whereas” and ending with the word “repealed,” it was precisely the length of an ordinary three-volume novel. To offer the reader that sentence on the present occasion would be rather a heavy jest, and as little reasonable as the revenge offered to a village schoolmaster who, having complained that the whole of his little treatise on the Differential Calculus was printed bodily in one of the earlier editions of the Encyclopædia Britannica (not so profitable as the later), was told that he was welcome, in his turn, to incorporate the Encyclopædia Britannica in the next edition of his little treatise.

In the supposition, however, that there are few readers who, like Lord King, can boast of having read the Statutes at large through, I venture to give a title of an Act—a title only, remember, of one of the bundle of acts passed in one session—as an instance of the comprehensiveness of English statute law, and the lively way in which it skips from one subject to another.1 It is called—

“An Act to continue several laws for the better regulating of pilots, for the conducting of ships and vessels from Dover, Deal, and the Isle of Thanet, up the River Thames and Medway; and for the permitting rum or spirits of the British sugar plantations to be landed before the duties of excise are paid thereon; and to continue and amend an Act for preventing fraud in the admeasurement of coals within the city and liberties of Westminster, and several parishes near thereunto; and to continue several laws for preventing exactions of occupiers of locks and wears upon the River Thames westward; and for ascertaining the rates of water-carriage upon the said river; and for the better regulation and government of seamen in the merchant service; and also to amend so much of an Act made during the reign of King George I. as relates to the better preservation of salmon in the River Ribble; and to regulate fees in trials and assizes at nisi prius,” &c.

But this gets tiresome, and we are only half way through the title after all. If the reader wants the rest of it, as also the substantial Act itself, whereof it is the title, let him turn to the 23d of Geo. II., chap. 26. (Pages 143-5)

Some further examples from statutes are also given by Burton, The Book Hunter, pp141-143

Attorneys.—(33 Henry VI. c. 7.)

“Item: Whereas of time not long past, within the city of Norwich, and the counties of Norfolk and Suffolk, there were no more but six or eight atturneys at the most coming to the King’s Courts, in which time great tranquillity reigned in the said city and counties, little trouble or vexation was made by untrue or foreign suits, and now so it is, that in the said city and counties there be four score atturneys or more, the more part of them having no other thing to live upon, but only his gain by the practise of atturneyship: and also the more part of them not being of sufficient knowledge to be an atturney, which come to every fair, market, and other places, where is any assembly of people, exhorting, procuring, moving, and inciting the people to attempt untrue and foreign suits for small trespasses, little offences, and small sums of debt, whose actions be triable and determinable in Court Barons,[142] whereby proceed many suits, more of evil will and malice than of truth of the thing, to the manifold vexations and no little damage of the inhabitants of the said city and counties, and all to the perpetual diminution of all the Court Barons in the said counties, unless convenient remedy be provided in this behalf. The foresaid Lord the King, considering the premises, by the advice, assent, and authority aforesaid, hath ordained and stablished that at all times, from hencefort, there shall be but six common atturneys in the said county of Norfolk, and six common atturneys in the said county of Suffolk, and two common atturneys in the said city of Norwich, to be atturneys in the Courts of Record.”

Fustian.—(11 Henry VII. c. 27.)

“Now so it is, that divers persons, by subtilty and undue sleights and means, have deceivably imagined and contrived instruments of iron, with the which irons, in the most highest and secret places of their houses, they strike and draw the said irons over the said fustians unshorn; by means whereof they pluck off both the nap and cotton of the same fustians, and break commonly both the ground and threeds in sunder, and after by crafty sleeking, they make the same fustians to appear to the common people fine, whole, and sound: and also they raise up the cotton of such fustians, and then take a light candle and set it in the fustian burning, which sindgeth and burneth away the cotton of the same fustian from the one end to the other down to the hard threeds, in stead of shering, and after that put them in colour, and so subtilly dress them that their false work cannot be espied without it be by workmen sherers of such fustians, or by the wearers of the same, and so by such subtilties, whereas fustians made in doublets or put to any other use, were wont and might endure the space of two years and more, will not endure now whole by the space of four months scarcely, to the great hurt of the poor commons and serving men of this realm, to the great damage, loss, and deceit of the King’s true subjects, buyers and wearers of such fustians,” &c.

1. This recalls the famous opening sentence to Paul Clifford by Bulwer-Lytton, beginning ‘It was a dark and stormy night…’ At the time the Paul Clifford was written BL was a Benthamite. Could he have been parodying legislative titles in his opening sentence? Probably not, but it is a nice thought. Maybe he was just overly influenced by their debilitating effect. []

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Benthamiana was published in 1843. It contained excerpts from Bentham’s works, as well as several short articles by the editor, John Hill Burton, on Bentham’s views. The article reproduced below deals with Bentham’s development and use of the idea of the greatest happiness. The article chronicles historical antecedents of the idea of happiness, it discusses the place of deductive reasoning in the development of Bentham’s ideas, and it then discusses the application of the happiness principle to Bentham’s moral and political thought. The article also lists reforms canvassed by Bentham that were subsequently introduced in Britain.

The list of reforms is mentioned by Charles Noble Gregory. In that article Gregory discusses the introduction of many of the reforms in the United States. [ctrl + f, “burton”, then backtrack 5 or so paras.]

The list is located in the second footnote in Burton’s article, but I have extracted it and put it directly below. Following the list you will find the complete article. You will not find the second footnote in the article as apparently my software will not permit such a long footnote. I have indicated its location in the text.

The book Benthamiana can be found in pdf format at Google books and at flipbooks. You can download it from flipbooks.

LIST OF REFORMS

Among the various practical reforms suggested by Bentham, the following are instances in which his views have been partially, or wholly adopted by the Legislature:—Reform in the Representative system. Municipal Reform in the abolition of inclusive privileges. Mitigation of the Criminal Code. The abolition of Transportation, and the adoption of a system of Prison discipline adapted to reformation, example, and economy. Removal of defects in the .Jury system. Abolition of arrest in Mesne process. Substitution of an effectual means of appropriating and realizing a Debtor’s property, to the practice of Imprisonment. Abolition of the Usury Laws. Abolition of Oaths. Abolition of law taxes, and fees in Courts of Justice, Removal of the exclusionary Rules in Evidence. Repeal of the Test and Corporation Acts, the Catholic Disabilities Acts, and other laws creating religious inequalities. Abolition or reduction of the Taxes on knowledge. A uniform system of Poor Laws under central administration, with machinery for the eradication of mendicancy and idleness. A system of training Pauper children, calculated to raise them from dependent to productive members of society. Savings Banks and friendly Societies on a uniform and secure system. Postage cheap, and without a view to revenue. Post-office Money Orders. A complete and uniform Register of Births, Marriages, and Deaths. A Register of Merchant seamen, and a Code of Laws for their Protection. Population Returns periodical, and on a uniform system, with the names, professions, &c., of individuals. The circulation of Parliamentary Papers as a means of diffusing the information contained in them. Protection to Inventions without the cumbrous machinery of the Patent Laws.

The following are among those of his proposed Reforms, which have received only a very partial, or no legislative sanction, but which have, each, a considerable and respectable class of supporters:—Free Trade. National Education. The Ballot. Equal Election Districts. Local Courts. A uniform and scientific method of drawing Acts of Parliament. Public Prosecutors. A general Register of Real Property, and of Deeds and Transactions. Sanatory Regulations for the protection of the public health, under the administration of competent and responsible officers. The circulation of Laws referring to particular Classes of society among persons who are specially subject to their operation.

AN OUTLINE OF THE OPINIONS OF JEREMY BENTHAM

THE GREATEST-HAPPINESS PRINCIPLE.

IT appeared to Bentham, at an early period of his life, that the Philosophy of human action was incomplete, until some general principle should be discovered, to which the actions of mankind ought all to tend. The way had been so far cleared by the Inductive system of Philosophy. Bacon laid down the grand and general law, that experiment is the means of obtaining a knowledge of what is true; but a question was left to be answered—to what end men – after having achieved the knowledge of what is true, should use that knowledge? It was clear, that though experiment might teach us how to achieve that end when once pointed out, it could not be the means of discovering the end itself; for the very supposal of an end predicates something, not sought after, but predetermined. It was after much thought that he decided that the end in view ought to be the creation of the greatest possible amount of happiness to the human race. The word “utility,” was the first shape in which the end presented itself;1 but this term left the question “what constitutes utility” an open one. The answer to—what constitutes utility? and the more abstract principle afterwards adopted, were one and the same. That is useful which, taking all times and all persons into consideration, leaves a balance of happiness; and, —the creation of the largest possible balance of happiness—became the Author’s description of the right end of human action?. The manner in which he stated his axiom was at first in the words, “The greatest happiness of the greatest number,” or The greatest possible happiness of the greatest possible number;” but as there were here two conflicting elements of extent—the intensity of the happiness and the number of persons among whom it is dispersed, the respective limits of which could not be fixed, the simple expression THE GREATEST HAPPINESS was determined on. He was quite aware that this principle is liable to the imperfection characteristic of all axioms. It was simply, like others of its kind, the closest approach to the abstract that could be made by reasoning. Logic could tender it no support; it must itself be the base on which reasoning should rest; and unless in so far as he could obtain admission for it, it must remain unproductive of good.

But it was not simply to the announcement of his first principle that Bentham trusted for its adoption, but to the influence it would have on the minds of his readers when they studied the forms in which he brought it out in detail. And this brings us to examine the extent to which the author lays claim to the merit of originality. It was not the principle itself, that constituted his discovery, but his rigid adherence to it in all his expositions—his never losing sight of it in what he did himself or called upon others to do. He did not say that the world had hitherto been ignorant of such a principle; he found the theory of utility to a certain extent promulgated by Hume, and references to the “greatest happiness” in the works of Beccaria and of Priestley; while something like the Utilitarian Principle is announced at the commencement of the Nicomachean Ethics. He found indeed that it was at the root of all systems of religion and morality, that all codes of law were more or less founded upon it; and that it was, in all places and at all times, an unseen and unacknowledged guide to human action. But he was the first to bring forth this guide, to prove to the world that it should be followed implicitly, and to show that hitherto, from not keeping their guide in view, men had often wandered from the right path. “The good of the community,” “the interests of the public,” “the welfare of mankind,” all expressions to be found in the mouths of those who talk of the proper ends of action, were so many acknowledgments of the greatest-happiness principle, and vague attempts to embody it. There is here an apt parallel with the philosophy of Bacon. Long before his day experiments were made, and thinkers, even in their emptiest theories, in some shape or other looked to experience. Fact was then, as now, the source of knowledge; but for want of an acquaintance with what their source of knowledge really was, men wandered about among vague theories, and Bacon was the first to discover, that wherever experience and the induction from it are lost sight of, there is no check to the errors of thought. In like manner does Bentham show, that, when the greatest happiness of mankind is lost sight of, in the pursuit of more immediate ends, there is no check to the aberration of human action.

There is, perhaps, no better illustration of the operation of the utilitarian principle in minds which are ignorant of, or do not acknowledge its existence, than in the appreciation which Bentham’s works have met with, by the majority of his readers. His general principle has received few adherents, in comparison with the number who have adopted his detailed applications of it. There is no project of change, or plan of legislative reform, in which he has not kept the greatest-happiness principle in his eye as the end to which it has been adapted; yet there are many who accede to his practical measures, while they repudiate his general principle.2 There can be no doubt, that had he contented himself with an exposition of his leading principle, instead of giving the world, on so wide a scale, the details of its operation, he would have had far fewer followers than he has: and that, indeed, it has generally been through the influence of his practical adaptation of it, that he has brought his pupils to the adoption of his central principle.

It is a circumstance worthy of remark, that his philosophy met with an opponent even in the extent to which its leading principle was practically admitted. The quantity of utilitarianism that was in mankind, had rooted certain opinions so firmly in their breasts, that they entertained a suspicion of that sceptical philosophy which took them up and examined them, though the examination ended in approval. People lost patience with the system, when they heard its author ask whether theft and falsehood were hurtful to mankind, before he condemned such acts. When it was said that murder, if beneficial to society, would be a virtue instead of a vice, it was indignantly maintained, that under no presumable circumstances could it be anything but what it is the most atrocious of crimes. That fact was, indeed, one of the most broad and clear cases in which the utilitarianism of the world had made up its mind from the beginning. Almost, in all ages and in all nations, men had leaped at the conclusion without a perceptible interval of ratiocination. It was a startling thing to see so long decided a question called up for trial, and to hear the evidence against it investigated and weighed, before judgment was pronounced, as if there were really room for any dubiety. The feeling was somewhat akin to the popular cry which, in the case of a public and notorious criminal, tries to bear down the calm deliberation [352] of the judicial tribunal, and is scarcely content when the proceedings end in. punishment, because the very weighing of evidence, in such a case, seems to be a trifling with truth which frightens people into the belief that it is possible justice may be got the better of. It was a leading feature of his system, that nothing should be taken for granted, and that every link in the chain of inquiry should be examined. In morals as in mathematics, he considered it necessary to have clear views of the simpler propositions of a series, as a preparation for the more complex. It was in the neglect of this rigid system that he generally found the source of popular errors in morality. Though men admitted the evil effect of murder, they had not followed the utilitarian principle so closely as to see much mischief in condemning a man to death according to law, when a smaller punishment is sufficient – and while theft encountered condemnation almost universal, the number of those who carried out the principle to the condemnation of the wilful accumulation of debts, which the debtor knows he has no chance of paying, was small. In both cases, however, the simpler proposition was an introductory step to the proof of the more complex.

Having established the pursuit of the greatest happiness as the leading object which all men should hold in view, the next step was, to find what principles there were in human action to be made conducive to this end. In examining the real state of the actions and impulses of mankind, and going back from particulars to the most general principle of action, the philosopher came to the conclusion, that every human being, in every action which he performs, follows his own pleasure. He had to deal with a multitude of prejudices, in his use of this term, but he would perhaps have hardly propitiated his opponents if he had chosen a new one. The very universality of its individual action was against it as a general term; for every man felt so strongly that what was pleasure to his neighbour was not pleasure to himself, that he revolted against the application of the same word to qualify motives which appeared so distinct. Among a large class of persons, the expression, “the pursuit of pleasure,” had inherited the bad reputation which has popularly attended the doctrines of Epicurus. It was connected in some way with sensuality and mere corporeal enjoyment, and stood in opposition to those objects and pursuits which the better part of mankind hold in esteem. In the popular discussions on this subject, there is generally a want of observance of the distinction between pleasure as attained, or, in one word, happiness, and pleasure as an object sought after. The latter is an unknown quantity—the former presents us with the arithmetical results of the experienced pains deducted from the experienced pleasures. Many a man makes himself unhappy; but no man pursues unhappiness, though one maybe very unsuccessful in his pursuit of happiness.
Perhaps it may serve the purpose of farther explaining the sense in which Bentham used the terms happiness and pleasure, to compare them with those words which more nearly approach to them. The term nearest to being synonymous with pleasure, is volition; what it pleases a man to do, is simply what he wills to do. By considering it for a moment in the light of mere volition, we separate it from the notion of actual enjoyment—that popular acceptation which is most likely to lead [353] us astray. What a man wills to do, or what he pleases to do, may be far from giving him enjoyment; yet, shall we say that in doing it, he is not following his own pleasure? A man drinks himself into a state of intoxication: here, whatever may be the ultimate balance of happiness, people can at least imagine present enjoyment, and will admit that the individual is pursuing what he calls his pleasure. A native of Japan, when he is offended, stabs himself to prove the intensity of his feelings. It is difficult to see enjoyment in this case, or what is popularly called pleasure; yet the man obeyed his impulses—he has followed the dictate of his will – he has done that which it pleased him to do, or that which, as the balance appeared to him at the moment, was, in the question between stabbing and not stabbing, the alternative which gave him the more pleasure.

Those hasty acts, the result of sudden impulse, which one afterwards repents of having done because they militate against ultimate happiness, are the operations which people can with least facility ally to the pursuit of pleasure. They cannot imagine a balance struck in the mind in favour of pleasure, in cases which, by their results, and the feeling which the actor afterwards expresses regarding them, have evidently been so much the result of want of consideration. But, unless it be denied altogether that will has any influence in such cases, it cannot be denied, that what the man wills to do is that which gives him, at the moment, greater pleasure than abstaining from it. The acts which are called rash – those which are the effects of sudden volition, are notorious for their malign influence on happiness. The imperfection generally attributable to hasty operations is perceptible in them. By too rapidly making up his mind on the question what is for his pleasure, the hasty man makes a wrong decision, and does that which, in the end, brings him a heavy balance of misery. Sudden acts may be fortunate, but they are not to be calculated upon as the most conducive to happiness, and the suppression of the habit of doing them will be found to be one of the ends of morality. A gambler may make himself rich by a lucky turn of the dice; but the best chance of permanent opulence is in favour of the man who practises a rigid system of industry, honesty, and self-restraint.
The terms, choice and preference, are useful in explaining the meaning of the word pleasure, as used by Bentham, though they are not so completely equivalent as will, being only employable where more than one thing is presented to the will, each with its own inducements. Between two courses, which a man has before him, he adopts, from pique or disgust, that which is foolish, wicked, detrimental to his own happiness, and he repents of it afterwards; still, at the moment, it was not less the object of his choice, his preference, his will, his pleasure.

It is in the cases where the instruments of palpable enjoyment are given up by one human being for the sake of the happiness of others, that its common popular acceptation renders the use of the word pleasure in its philosophical sense least commodious. He who sacrifices self for the good of others will be said to yield to the dictates of duty, of generosity, of humanity, of benevolence, of patriotism, as the case may be; but generosity revolts against attributing to him the selfish motive of the pursuit of pleasure. There is no harm—indeed there is much good—in the terms of eulogy which are applied to the motives of such actions. Bentham was not less conscious of their excellence than other moralists; but in looking at their direct and immediate motive, he found it the same one ruling principle—the pursuit of pleasure—the doing that which it pleases a man to do—the doing that which volition suggests. The misunderstanding of his opinions arose from the defect already stated – the inability of men to see sources of pleasure to others, in things which were not sources of pleasure to themselves. When Howard found himself possessed of an unappropriated sum of money, the first use for it that suggested itself was a pleasure trip on the Continent; but on second thoughts he devoted it to the accomplishment of his benevolent schemes. In popular language, he was said in this instance to have made a sacrifice of his pleasure or of his enjoyment; and in the case of an ordinary man, had Howard possessed over him the power of appropriating to the improvement of prison discipline, the money which the owner of it had intended to spend on travelling, and had he so exercised his power, that owner would probably feel that Howard had deprived him of a pleasure. But the source of enjoyment and the will to choose it were fitted to each other, and placed in one mind; and who shall say that the choice he adopted was not that which gave Howard pleasure?3

Having found the psychological fact, that each man in all his actions pursues his own pleasure, and laid down the rule that the right end of action is the increase of the sum-total of the pleasure or happiness of mankind, the next question came to be – how the pursuit could be brought to bear upon the end and he decided that, as a general rule, the happiness of the community would have the greatest chance of enlargement, by each individual member doing the utmost to increase his own. The conclusion, that the pursuit of pleasure should thus be deliberately set down as the proper end of life—the great duty of man—seemed startling to those whose notions of felicity were drawn from its most palpable, but least potent department, sensual gratification. But here again, as in the other departments of his system, he appealed to the conduct of all men to the views of all moralists—as illustrations that he was founding no new system of morality, but merely clearing up that which had, with more or less of deviation, been acted upon and taught in all ages. The first great point to be kept in view is, to distinguish between the pursuit of immediate pleasure, and the doing that which, probably at an expenditure of present pain; will have the effect of securing a balance of pleasure when the whole transactions of a life are wound up. People call the former the pursuit of pleasure—-the latter they call the practice of morality. The gambler, the spendthrift, the drunkard, adopt the former course. Heedless of consequences, they snatch at present enjoyment; but before the end of their days the balance of pleasure has turned fearfully against them. The upright, industrious, abstemious man, has braced himself to resist these allurements. He has struck the balance accurately at the beginning, and at each passing moment of temptation he keeps it steadily in view. When the opportunities of fleeting enjoyment start up before him, he says, “No; I will pay dearly for it hereafter:” it will conduce to his pleasure afterwards that he has avoided it; and, reflexly, to avoid it is pleasure to him at the moment. When his days are ended, the book of life shows a balance of pleasure an increase to the stock of the happiness of society, to which he has been an. ornament and a benefactor by the acts which have conferred felicity on himself. Moralists and divines may disguise it as they will, but the balance of happiness is always the reward which they hold out for good actions. Be temperate you will secure health and respect. Make your expenditure meet your income you will avoid shame and embarrassment. Be liberal—you will have the good-will of mankind, their praise, and their kind offices. When the teacher looks beyond the world and opens up motives on which it is not necessary here to dwell, (for Bentham did not discuss religion in itself, but merely spoke of it as one of the influencing engines or society,) the appeal is still the same, and happiness in a future state is held out as the reward of virtue here.
In the mere discovery that it is a search after the greatest attainable amount of happiness, the rule of morality is far from being developed. The difficult problem, What line of conduct will be most conducive to happiness? has to be worked out. The Author, however, believed that he had done much to facilitate this operation by laying before people the ultimate, in place of the secondary objects of morality. He admitted that all the world—both the moral and the immoral part of it—were searching for the same desideratum; but he maintained that they would be more likely to find it, if they did not forget the object of their search by having their attention distracted by the various matters they encountered on their way. He found, that in the search two distinct classes of mistakes are made. Some act hastily, following the dictates of present enjoyment without weighing the consequences; these are the immoral men. Others, after a laborious investigation, divulge schemes, which being acted on, leave a balance of pain greater than the pleasure; these are the propounders of false moral doctrines. The object of morality and moral discussions is to show the former the folly of their ways, and to assist the latter in their attempts to discover the right path. It would be a very palpable mistake to presume that it was the Author’s meaning that immoral practices always bring their punishment with them in this world. The problem he works out is one of chances; not of direct cause and effect. He maintains only the possibility of discovering a moral rule, the pursuit of which will give the individual the best chance of leading a happy life.
It is one of the evils of the imperfection of language as an accurate vehicle of thought, that the full meaning of what is involved in Bentham’s views regarding the pursuit of happiness cannot be comprehended by any species of simple exposition: the student will know them best by examining them, inductively as it were, in the various works in which they are practically applied. Among the elements of the greatest-happiness principle, or of the utilitarian principle, he will find characteristics very different from that pursuit of sensual pleasure which popular prejudice attributes to the one, or that hard limitation to what are called the immediately useful and rejection of the ornamental objects of life, attributed to the other. There was no one more fully endowed with the feeling, that everything which lifts the soul of man above the clod he treads, and purifies its elements of enjoyment, tends to the fulfilment of that end which he had set before himself as the right one. The progress of a system of intellectual instruction, the most refined and elevated in its nature which the position of the individual could admit of, was one of his favourite schemes – one towards the practical adoption of which he laboured with a zeal worthy of better success. The gradual removal of the pupil s mind from contact with those objects and practices in which man shows the greatest amount of his animal, and the least of his intellectual nature, was the peculiar moral benefit he anticipated for his system. He was a zealous admirer of what may be called intellectual discipline. He conceived that the minds of youth, in almost all grades, and under all systems of education, were allowed too much relaxation from the bracing influence of severe thought. If it had been in his power, he would have made every man a thinker; he would have taught all men to meditate on the ends of their actions ; to check their propensity towards immediate enjoyment, to govern their passions, and to look into the future.4

Those petty sacrifices of selfish inclination, for the pleasure of others, which constitute the rules of good-breeding, politeness, and courtesy, formed part of his system of morality. These are not important acts, taken individually; but collectively they are the materials of which much of the happiness of social man is created. He was not deaf to the greater calls for admiration made by that species of disinterestedness, which makes large sacrifices of what is called personal enjoyment, for the good of others. He looked on the disinterested benefactors of their species— men rarely occurring, and highly gifted, as those whose greatest happiness was centred in the consciousness of doing good to mankind; and he conceived it right and just that the acknowledgment of their services should be amply given. But these were not the men for whom he could cast his scheme of morality. Greatly as they raise themselves, in the unapproached grandeur of their minds, above the people of the everyday world, it is for these latter that codes of morality must be constructed; it is to the size of such minds that they must be fitted. It is useless to ask whether it would be better that men should find their chief enjoyment in something higher than the usual objects of ambition; suffice it that experience shows these to be the ruling motives, and therefore the instruments with which the moralist must act. He who addresses himself only to Howards and Washingtons, leaves several millions of well-intentioned men, with narrower minds and lower objects of ambition, unguided. The economy of the world would be different from its present constitution were it otherwise; and it is not inconsistent with an appreciation of disinterestedness, to hold that mankind would not be advanced but deteriorated, if all the shopkeepers deserted their counters to revolve schemes for the public good. The produce of the selfish industry of commonplace moral men and good citizens, is the fund with which philanthropy deals on an extensive scale. Aggrandizing, money-getting Britain, gave twenty millions for the emancipation of slaves: how could such an act be accomplished by a nation of Aristideses and Epictetuses?

The main difficulty which has been raised against the greatest-happiness [357] principle, is in the allegation, that each man, in pursuing his own greatest happiness in this world is simply inviting him to pillage his neighbours of their proper fund of felicity. The answer to this is the same plea on which the Captain of a ship, which has run short of provisions, would recommend all the crew, both weak and strong, to submit to an arrangement for short allowance. To A. and B alone it would be their greatest happiness, perhaps, to have the run of the ship’s store, but there are C, and D, and E, and F, with the same inclinations counteracting them; and though A and B might resist all the calls of humanity and sympathy, and might be even able, at the moment, to carry their point of preference bv force, they would run the risk of a final accounting with the law. All, therefore, see that it will be their greatest happiness to make an average division; and good ship-economy will show how this is to be accomplished on such a system as to make an equal distribution, keeping in view the number of the crew and the time to be at sea. Just so is it in the worId at large. Each man feels that the best security for himself getting a share of happiness, is to give way to a certain extent to his neighbour. Such is the habit more or less in every portion of the globe; and it is in the countries where practice has settled the proportion of how much should be kept and how much given away, with the greatest accuracy, that the end of morality has been best accomplished. The strongest counter-illustration which an opponent could find, is, perhaps, that of a despotism; but even here the principle is followed, though, according to our Author’s opinion, very barbarously and unsatisfactorily. If the despot presides over a docile people who will not rebel, it is a sign that they prefer the ease of submission to the exertion of independence, and they are following their happiness in their own way. Among such a people, the temptation to play the pranks to which despotism is liable, is greatest, and, to say the truth, does least harm. But if an autocrat were calculating what course would produce him, on the whole, the greatest happiness, it is believed that he would not find it to be in roasting his subjects before slow fires, or skinning them alive, or hunting them with blood-hounds and that the despot who has taken the best estimate of a happy reign, is he who has resolved to make his sway wise and beneficent; to do justice and to love mercy. But it is seldom that the embers of the spirit of resistance have been so completely extinguished that no gust will waken them into a blaze; and more or less, the tear of resistance holds the despot in awe, providing in his person an illustration, though certainly but a rudely developed one, of the counteraction which is supplied by the universality of the pursuit of self-enjoyment.
There can be no better illustration of the wide-embracing influence of what has been denounced as “the selfish system,” than its extension not only to all classes of mankind, of whatever colour or persuasion, but to every living thing to which the Deity has given, along with animal life, the capacity of physical pain and pleasure. Bentham was a strenuous supporter of the legislative protection of the brute creation from cruelty,5 on principles which will be found more fully explained in Section Sixth.

1. See the Fragment on Government, Works, vol. i. p. 260 et seq []

2. Second footnote, reproduced above the article in this post. []

3. That this choice characterized an order of mind of which Bentham had a due appreciation, will be admitted by all who read his beautiful eulogy on the Philanthropist, as printed in the present selection, p. 332. []

4. See the plan of a Chrestomathic System of Education, in the Works, vol. viii, p.1 et seq. See also the Rationale of Reward, in vol. ii. p. 192 et seq.: where the different beneficial objects of encouragement are discussed. See also vol. i. p. 569 et seq.: vol. viii. p. 395 et seq. []

5. See the Works, vol. i. pp. 142-143, 562; vol. x. p. 549-550. []

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This post is for Charles Nesson whose comment appears to have vanished, along with everyone else’s comments.

Nesson’s comment was:

thank you
excellent and interesting
did bentham advance the idea of criminal codification as a protection for citizen liberty?

To which I answered:

In reply to Charles Nesson: Yes, is probably the best answer. Codification allowed the citizen to actually understand what was illegal and what was not. Somewhere [found, and added below] I have an article by someone in the 19c who found himself in a US jurisdiction with codified law. He marvelled at the fact that the law (crim I think) could be learned (more or less) in an afternoon – instead of having to practice for years to understand the arcane ins-and-outs of various subtle common law distinctions. While things have changed, there is no doubt the law is clearer and more easily understood than it was prior to codification. Even at law school, students of criminal law, for example, only really study the subject for 8 or so weeks full-time. (1) In these two months they get a pretty good overview of the whole thing. Things have, of course, become more complex since Bentham’s time, but still, on balance, I think the legacy survives.

I will see if I can find the article, and also another that I have which discusses the Benthamite legacy in the US. [Found, see below]

Another aspect to the ‘yes’ case is that legislation is controlled by the elected legislature, unlike common law. The citizen controls the legislature, but the citizen does not control judges (now or then) in the same direct fashion (though of course the jury system has to be fed into that debate too). (2)  As something of an aside, I think it could fairly be argued that judges have become rational in their decision making in significant measure because they are under the pressure of the threat of legislation. Should they go off on the kinds of frolics they once enjoyed, their fate, as a result of persistent legislative intervention, would be irrelevance.

But there is a ‘no’ case. In discussing Bentham, however, one must always remember that his core principle was not liberty but happiness. Thus he questions in Panopticon whether, as a result of education:

… the liberal spirit and energy of a free citizen would not be exchanged for the mechanical discipline of a soldier, or the austerity of a monk? – and whether the result of this high-wrought contrivance might not be constructing a set of machines under the similitude of men?

To give a satisfactory answer to all these queries, which are mighty fine, but do not any of them come home to the point, it would be necessary to recur at once to the end of education. Would happiness be most likely to be increased or diminished by this discipline? – Call them soldiers, call them monks, call them machines: so they were but happy ones, I should not care.

But this is Bentham in high rhetorical flourish. I wish I could find a quote I have read saying that Bentham’s political philosophy is grounded in English liberty.  But I can’t. [Found. See fn (3)]  However, I think it is fair to say that Bentham does absolutely believe in liberty, and his system is designed to enhance it, free from aristocratic oppression. A useful book about Bentham and liberty is called, appropriately enough, Bentham on Liberty, by Douglas Long, University of Toronto Press, 1977. In the preface Long states:

I came to see, and continue to believe, that Bentham’s decision to concentrate on making men happy did, as Professor Halévy suggested, entail a conscious de-emphasizing of the intrinsic importance of making them free.

Nevertheless, if the body of Long’s book is to be taken as a guide, Bentham’s thought includes a life-long engagement with the idea of liberty.  Some of the measures proposed by Bentham can easily be seen as diminishing liberty.  But Bentham finds in these measures an enhanced liberty. An example I have in mind is the identification tattoo, discussed in Long at page 141 – an unfortunate example because one is inevitably reminded of that great declaration of liberty: “Arbeit Macht Frei”. Not a happy association! Another example is the independence of the individual established through freedom of the press and public discussion. (4) It would be fair to say that liberty in Benthamism is sometimes paradoxical, but if we think about it, I suspect, that is true in socialising human nature generally. Most freedoms and liberties, if not all, are supported by various sanctions and limitations. Freedom to publish what one liked would be of little value if citizens were permitted the freedom to destroy presses that offended them.

Another way of discussing the matter is to ground the debate in the satisfaction of self-interest. As far as I know, satisfaction of self-interest (subjectively determined) and happiness are more or less identical ideas within Benthamism. For Bentham the question was how to design a political system that could spread as widely as possible the capacity to satisfy self-interest, as opposed to concentrating that satisfaction in the hands of a few. In practical terms, that inevitably must require that the individual has maximum liberty in which to act to satisfy their subjectively determined self-interest. Knowing what the criminal law is, and being able to elect legislators to tailor the criminal law to majority self-interest (as opposed to, for example, aristocratic interest) are important aspects of liberty.

Of course, Mill answered a problem that emerges from the aggregation of self-interest in democracy – that is, the problem of majoritarianism. Mill’s answer is the harm principle. Bentham was well aware of the problem of majoritarianism too, but it took Mill to come up with the solution we have more or less adopted since. One must remember that majoritarianism is not a problem exclusive to utilitarian democracy – it is a problem for democracy generally, however founded. The utilitarians did their best to overcome it, and their answers have yet to be bettered. Australians have adopted Mill’s approach, but, perhaps, not to the extent of the US. We do allow the state considerable play in our society, so long as it serves the general happiness, or general good. An instance is our health care system which is a judicious mix of government and private. Recently our top public servant referred to the Benthamite goal as his own. Neverthless, a critique of Australian society as being burdened by social majoritarianism can be found here. There may well be truth to this critique. This is perhaps a key point of difference between perceptions of Australian and US society. Let me point out, however, that along with Australia scoring highly on happiness surveys (world top five), Australian cities rank highly in the ‘most livable’ surveys (eg here – 9, 17, 21 and 34). While such surveys need to be viewed with a certain degree of circumspection, I think it is fair to say that Australia’s social and political organisation is not unsuccessful, and I think it is also fair to say there is little sense here of being under the thumb of government. (5)

As I understand it Mill is the philosopher most referred to by our High Court by a good margin. But Australians have developed a philosophy that works well without requiring an ascent to the Millsian heights. That is the ‘fair go’. The fair go encapsulates the idea of equality of opportunity. But it also includes the idea that people should be left to their own devices unless they are causing others harm. I guess this can be a good foil against oppressive majoritarianism – take away another’s freedoms for no good reason, and yours might be next.

You will find the article I referred to in my answer to Charles Nesson above at Gregory – Codification. Both elements (citizen liberty and US influence) were in the same article.

Postscript: See Frederick Rosen, ‘The Origin of Liberal Utilitarianism: Jeremy Bentham and Liberty’ in Bellamy, Victorian Liberalism, London, Routledge, 1990. See also Bellamy’s ‘Introduction’, especially around p12. Note Halévy’s importance in the discussion. See Elie Halevy, The Growth of Philosophic Radicalism, Faber and Faber, London, 1972

1)  There are 2 x 12 week semesters = 24 weeks divided between 4 subjects = 6 weeks for a full year subject. Add on a bit extra for swot vac and exam period = 8 weeks or so.

2) Actually I’m not sure how judges are selected in US state jurisdictions, but in the UK and Australia they are appointed (mostly for working-life) by the executive. Are judges elected in some instances in the US? If so, I presume it is for (working-) life (?)

3) ‘The definition of liberty’, wrote Jeremy Bentham in 1776, ‘is one of the corner stones of my system: and one that I know not how to do without.’ in Frederick Rosen, The Origin of Liberal Utilitarianism: Jeremy Bentham and Liberty in Bellamy, Victorian Liberalism, London, Routledge, 1990, 58-70, quoting Bentham, Correspondence, ed TLS sprigg (London, 1968), I, 309.

4) Long, pp 139 and 204

5) It might be that Australia is kept from too heavy an expression of social and political majoritarianism by the dominance in the world of the more libertarian United States. Many of our social movements owe their origins to the US. We can use the US as a yardstick for both or successes and our failures. Without the US to draw from and compare ourselves with it is possible, even likely, that Australia would drift towards being a more conservative and restrictive society.

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This excerpt from The Young Duke, written by a young Disraeli in 1831, lampoons the utilitarians, including their attitude to codification. Unfortunately I can’t identify the players. There can be little doubt that the writer on India is James Mill. As for the others, if anyone knows I’d love you to leave a comment. I suppose the ‘Screw and Lever’ is the Westminster Review.

The utilitarians attempted to rethink political formation from the ground up, relying heavily on deduction from first principles. Later in the 19th century inductive reasoning, or the historical approach, rose to ascendancy. There was much dispute during the century about the validity of each approach, at least insofar as they are applied to the design of political systems.

The Young Duke: Book V, Ch VII

‘Young people are very wild!’ said the widow.
‘Pooh! ma’am. Nonsense! Don’t talk cant. If a man be properly educated, he is as capable at one-and-twenty of managing anything, as at any time in his life; more capable. Look at the men who write “The Screw and Lever;” the first men in the country. Look at them. Not one of age. Look at the man who wrote this article on the aristocracy: young Duncan Macmorrogh. Look at him, I say, the first man in the country by far.’
‘I never heard his name before,’ calmly observed the Duke.
‘Not heard his name? Not heard of young Duncan Macmorrogh, the first man of the day, by far; not heard of him? Go and ask the Marquess of Sheepshead what he thinks of him. Go and ask Lord Two and Two what he thinks of him. Duncan dines with Lord Two and Two every week.’
The Duke smiled, and his companion proceeded.
‘Well, again, look at his friends. There is young First Principles. What a head that fellow has got! Here, this article on India is by him. He’ll knock up their Charter. He is a clerk in the India House. Up to the detail, you see. Let me read you this passage on monopolies. Then there is young Tribonian Quirk. By G—, what a mind that fellow has got! By G—, nothing but first principles will go down with these fellows! They laugh at anything else. By G—, sir, they look upon the administration of the present day as a parcel of sucking babes! When I was last in town, Quirk told me that he would not give that for all the public men that ever existed! He is keeping his terms at Gray’s Inn. This article on a new Code is by him. Shows as plain as light, that, by sticking close to first principles, the laws of the country might be carried in every man’s waistcoat pocket.’

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I have recently read a book by E. T. Laing called An Amoral Philosopher. It had nothing to do with my studies, but of course, all roads lead to Bentham…

The book is about what would happen if the world caught up with neuroscience which is coming to the conclusion that there is no such thing as the mind, and that we are just a bag of chemicals reacting away, producing what we call consciousness, and the appearance of free-will.

What’s that? The appearance of free-will?

Well, the argument is pretty simple to follow. There was the big bang. Lots of sub-atomic particles and other stuff went flying about. Atoms formed. Those atoms formed into clouds, the clouds collapsed, creating stars, the stars exploded providing clouds of raw materials that again collapsed creating planets. All of this obeyed the physical laws. If one second after the big bang you modelled every particle, every spark of energy and whatever other wonders there are, you could predict what was going to happen just by switching the ‘next’ button. Just like billiard balls on a table. Make an observation of the movement of the balls at any point and you can recreate the next second, the next hour of movement (if there was no friction) the next year, the next million years, etc etc etc.

So, we now have planets and in the oceans the little atoms etc are zipping about crashing into each other in predictable ways. They create organic molecules (maybe in the asteroid belt or something, but you get the picture). The organic molecules zip around and crash into each other, or are bombarded by a shower of energy/particles creating new types of molecules. All predictable from the first second of the big bang in accordance with the physical laws.

On it goes. The molecules create larger molecules. Maybe the next thing that is created is a simple virus or something else that happens to have the capacity to self-replicate. All this is happening according to the physical laws, and each step along the way every second could have been predicted by looking at the previous second, all the way back to the big bang. All happily obeying the physical laws.

And so more complex lifeforms are created, and all their activity is governed by the physical laws, including the chemical processes in their nervous systems. Every process would be predictable the second before, obeying the physical laws all the way back to the big bang.

So it is with humans. Every process that makes us what we are is governed (so the theory goes) by chemical processes. Each process is predictable the second before according to physical laws, and each step could have been predicted second by second all the way back to the big bang.

The idea of free will DEMANDS that there is something that makes those chemical reactions – occurring predictably second by second – that makes those chemical reactions NOT PREDICTABLE ACCORDING TO THE KNOWN PHYSICAL LAWS second by second. It demands that something intervenes in the path of an atom as it is merrily zooming around obeying the physical laws, to turn it from its path to react with a different atom from the one it was about to react with. Either that or everything is governed by predictable physical laws, and thus everything is predetermined, and entirely predictable.1 If there is free will something has to intervene to swerve the atom from its path.

If there is no free will how can there be right and wrong? If it was predictable and inevitable that Hitler invaded Poland etc., how can he be blamed? Either we believe in a mysterious force that swerves atoms from their path, or we do not believe in free will. On this account free will is a great big illusion.

OK. So that’s the premise of the book. Governments start to realize that people can’t be blamed for anything. Laing asks what society would look like. Here he diverges from the way I would see it. I have not fully thought it through so I can’t really proffer a view yet. But the point of this post is that Laing decides that instead of basing the society on some form of morality – morality implies free will – the society would have to be based on happiness.2 He decides that such a system is viable. Laing mentions JS Mill, and also the idea of the pursuit of happiness. But Laing is steeped in the tradition of moral philosophy, not political philosophy. He need only turn to the political philosophy of Bentham et al., including the political side of Mill’s writing, to find the foundations of the happiness-based society well and truly mapped out.

And it is not just mapped out in theory. Benthamism underpins many current western political structures and social forms. Virtue is declining in importance compared with happiness. No more so than in Australia, arguably the quintessential happiness-based society.

But, if I am right in my contention that Australia is a Benthamite society, does that mean we are just a bunch of automotons down-under – or at least have inadvertently acknowledged the fact that everyone is an automoton, and just got on with business? Well, probably not. A happiness-based society is not dependent upon its citizens being neuroscience-automatons.

As for Laing’s broad argument that we are amoral automotons, I would pit against it a pitiful plea that physics doesn’t understand everything yet, and maybe there are forces yet to be comprehended, and maybe one of those forces might be suitably named ‘life’ (or something), operating in a way that is truly wondrous. Or there’s a god or something. You’ve got those kinds of options, or the other – that you are a bag of chemicals, and when you next sit down to a meal to enjoy a bottle of red you can remember that you were always going to do that, it could not have been different – and if it turns out to be corked it’s not the winemaker’s fault, because it was always going to happen like that. And, while you are complaining about the standard of wine-making these days, and the scarcity of good cork, someone is dying of starvation in Somalia. It’s not something to feel guilty about though, because it was inevitable. It was always going to happen just like that. I could have told you one second after the big bang.

Laing’s argument about happiness trumping virtue as a mechanism for social ordering in a society of automatons probably fits the bill, except of course we have no choice in the matter. In Laing’s world it is not just morality that goes out the window, it is everything that we like to think makes us human. There is no choosing anything, including happiness for oneself, or the capacity to structure society around the idea of happiness. It all just happens. We are all just kinds of complex crystals seeded by our DNA, growing away happily or unhappily with as much agency as a snowflake. Whether we are happy or not is hardly a question worth considering, and whether we can attain happiness for ourselves is not even worth the neuronal time to contemplate. Though you have no choice of course.

Either that, or we know little about anything yet. I prefer the latter option.

Having negotiated the above, you may now like to warp your mind further, taking one additional step into the great unknown, by visiting the website of Rupert Sheldrake.

Or see John Updike’s Roger’s Version, which, I am reliably informed, is silly.

Or see a video here touching on free will, with Marvin Minsky.

See here for a brief sketch of the issues.

1. You could argue that the brain has little to do with it, but that is the point – the science is becoming more and more convincing that the physical brain has everything to do with it. And if our physical selves are not ultimately responsible for our actions then what is it that is driving us? []

2. There are problems here about the idea that we can choose our political system, or choose to get that which makes us happy, but let’s gloss that over for a moment. []

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On 9 Feb 2008 the Melbourne broadsheet The Age ran an article titled ‘The Three Amigos’. The article discussed three people who will be amongst the most influential in Australia over the coming years. They were the new Prime Minister, Kevin Rudd, the new head of the Commonwealth Public Service, Terry Moran, and the Vice-Chancellor of the University of Melbourne, Glyn Davis. They have all been colleagues of one another over the years. The article included a quote by Moran which revealed his basic understanding of what the public service should be about.

The three amigos, from left – Terry Moran, Kevin Rudd, Glyn Davis.

Before coming to that quote, it is perhaps useful to backtrack a little. In 1985 Hugh Collins wrote an article entitled ‘Political Ideology in Australia: The Distinctiveness of a Benthamite Society’.1 A public servant at the time, now Collins is Master of Ormond College at The University of Melbourne. In this article Collins writes:

Australia’s perennial debates and present predicaments may be understood … if one begins by regarding Australia as a Benthamite society.

For Collins this is reflected in:

1) the Australian coupling of the pursuit of individual interest with sovereign interest or greatest happiness, such that ‘Although the agenda of Bentham’s utilitarian state includes issues that are now associated with a collectivist age, such as education, health, and welfare, in Bentham’s system these tasks are firmly secured to individualist interests.’

2) the centrality of legislation to the the theory of government, as practiced in Australia.

3) the positivist bent in Australian culture. Collins quotes J.S. Mill: “[Bentham’s] was an essentially practical mind” and continues:

That practical bent; the insistence upon a separation of fact and value which he inherited from David Hume; the habit of dividing and quartering all speculative thought: these elements combine to explain why Bentham’s philosophy is such a fertile seedbed for modern positivism.

(This observation requires a note on positivism. It’s a pretty hazy concept, meaning many different things under many different hands, but broadly it might mean here that one bases laws and decision-making upon putting to the fore desired objectives and available evidence – something of a scientific method – rather than relying upon tradition, or some sense of what is or is not natural, or some unquestionable set of values handed down from some authority or other, such as a religious authority.)

In Australia, Collins observes, Benthamism arrived with, and was reflected in, among other things, Chartism, administrative structures, political structures, and legislative programs. He continues:

The abstract Benthamite ideas that adhered to these concrete enactments and achievements of the nineteenth century endured as the dominant ideology in the twentieth century, shaping the nation’s institutions, images, and ideas. Indeed, so completely has this philosophy captured Australia’s public mind that the sporadic appearance of different political ideas, whether of the left or right, is better understood as a reaction against the hegemony than as the motion of independent forces.

Australia, then, according to Collins, is a thoroughly Benthamite society.

If Collins is right, and in my view he is, it is surprising that, in this Benthamite society, hardly anyone has heard of Jeremy Bentham. Where he is known, it is mostly for his role as the developer of the panopticon, which Foucault uses as something of a metaphor in his works on surveillance and power in society. Bentham, in this Benthamite society, is as good as unknown as a political and legal philosopher.

Be that as it may, this is not the point of this post.

The next source to examine very briefly is Robert Goodin’s Utilitarianism as a Public Philosophy.2 Goodin argues in this book that during the nineteenth century utilitarianism was understood as making an important contribution to the way in which public affairs were handled. He argues that after this time it began to be seen exclusively as a code for private action – in other words as a moral philosophy rather than as a political one.

Thus Goodin observes that in Sidgwick’s 1874 Methods of Ethics, public affairs loomed large, but by 1903, in Moore’s Principia Ethica, utilitarianism seems to have become locked into terms of private ideals. After this, even when used as a system for public policy, utilitarianism has tended to be seen to argue for individual rather than collective action.3

Goodin observes that as a moral philosophy utilitarianism leaves much to be desired. But, he suggests, it is valuable as a philosophy for the public sphere. Thus Goodin draws our attention to an article by J.S. Mill in the London and Westminster Review, August 1838, where Mill observes that utilitarianism is better adapted to the public sphere than it is to the private:

If Bentham’s theory of life can do so little for the individual, what can it do for society? It will enable a society … to prescribe the rules by which it may protect its material interests. It will do nothing… for the spiritual interests of society … [W]hat a philosophy like Bentham’s can do [is] teach the means of organizing and regulating the merely business part of the social arrangements.

And that, argues Goodin, it can do well.

This brings us back to the article about the three amigos, Rudd, Moran, and Davis. The article quotes Moran, who will begin as head of the Commonwealth Public Service on 3 March 2008:

I have had a fortunate career, having often been in jobs where I have been able to make a difference. It’s not been about boring administration, but about improving things – the Benthamite concept that the role of government is to achieve the greatest good for the greatest number.

It is all very well, in my observations about Bentham and Australia on this website, to draw connections between Bentham and Benthamites and the constitutions, land policy, social welfare policies, Chartism, and social and political culture in Australia. It is also all very well to for me to draw attention to the writings of, for example, Collins, Goodin, and Richard Mills. But in the end it is best to have confirmation of the guiding political philosophy from those who are actually making and implementing policy.

So now it is official, Australia is run on Benthamite lines. And this approach, presumably, is supported by the person who appointed Moran, the Prime Minister of Australia, Kevin Rudd.

1. Hugh Collins, Political Ideology in Australia: The Distinctiveness of a Benthamite Society. In Australia, the Daedalus Symposium, edited by S. R. Graubard. North Ryde, N.S.W.: Angus & Robertson 1985 []

2. New York : Cambridge University Press, 1995 []

3 Goodin, p7 []

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How to make a great history video in 4 days.

Thanks to Brett Holman who brought this to my attention. See him at ‘Airminded‘ in the blogroll.

Go here to see the video.

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This report was broadcast on News Radio in Australia on 18 January 2008.

America prides itself on being the land of opportunity but it seems it’s easier for someone in Australia to realize a rags-to-riches fantasy. New research from the Australian National University says Australia has a higher level of social mobility, and offers a greater chance of rising up the income ladder than the United States.

But the report doesn’t paint an entirely rosy picture of economic opportunity in Australia. Michael Edwards has this report:

John Symond has made a fortune running Aussie Home Loans. He says his is a classic rags-to-riches tale. He grew up in modest circumstances, and now lives in one of the nation’s most expensive houses on Sydney Harbour. He puts it down to his parents, and being an Australian.

[Symond] “Australia is a country that gives all the opportunities in the world for those who really want to pick the ball up and run with it.”

And there’s a new study that could back up John Symond’s optimism. Dr Andrew Leigh is an economist from the Australian National University. Using surveys of 5000 sons born between 1910 and 1979, and contrasting their incomes with their fathers’, Dr Leigh did the first ever direct comparison of social mobility between Australia and the United States [here].

[Leigh] “Australia is a more mobile country than the United States, and my finding actually parallels that of every other study that I know of that has compared a developed country to the US. There’s this myth I think in the United States that it is very easy to move from rags to riches. In fact every time someone compares mobility with the US they find it is easier to move from rags to riches in their country compared with the US.”

Dr Leigh attribiutes some of Australia’s rags to riches social mobility to economic liberalisation.

“So, greater access to higher education, greater improvements in school leaving, have come as part of economic liberalizing measures, and are probably a good thing for mobility on balance.”

But the study isn’t all good news. It concluded that Australia lags behind Scandinavian countries, and that over the past 40 years the amount of people rising up the economic and social ladder has stabilized.

“Australia is as fluid a place as it was in the 50s and 60s or, if you like, as static a place as it was in the 1960s.”

Welfare groups are skeptical about claims social mobility is common in Australia. Dr John Falzon from the St Vincent de Paul Society says it’s still tough to break out of the poverty cycle.

[Falzon] “If we do want to be a socially mobile society, not with simply one off stories of rags to riches, but genuinely engaging the majority of people, in those opportunities that should be available, then we need to make sure that education, training, housing, health, transport, and child care are realities in the lives of the people who are at the moment structurally excluded.”

Dr John Falzon from the St Vincent de Paul Society ending Michael Edwards’ report.

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PROBLEMS OF ASSOCIATION

1) TELEMACHUS:

While in two recent posts (here and here) I developed the idea of the peaceful Telemachean revolution, I suppose I now have to own up to a glitch or two in that picture.

 Glitch one: Telemachus means, in Greek, distant warrior – hardly the stuff of peace. Well, for this one, my excuse is that I am taking my cue from Fenelon’s character, Telemachus, not the ancient Greek character. In any case Odysseus, the paragon of virtue who is held up as a model for Telemachus, is the least impetuous and dangerous to know of the characters of the Iliad.

Glitch two: In Fenelon’s book democracy gets only a pretty short innings in the total picture drawn by Fenelon. However, my excuse here is that it is to this element that Bentham pointed when he noted the effect of Fenelon’s book upon him.

Having thus somewhat justified the Telemachus association, I have now to discuss two other people with an asssociation with Bentham. Its all about influence. Fenelon’s Telemachus influences Bentham. Who does Bentham influence? Well, apart from just about everybody, there are a couple of particular somebodies that can be mentioned.

2) MARX

First let’s deal with Marx. Elsewhere on this site I have noted how Engels stated in Condition of the Working Class in England (1845 – Ch: Labour Movements) that Bentham was a primary influence on all of proletariat, socialist and bourgeois (his terms, not mine) chartism.

Now it turns out that the economist Thorstein Veblen thought along the same lines. John Diggins, in Thorstein Veblen: Theorist of the Leisure Class (p47) quotes Veblen’s The Place of Science in Modern Civilization and Other Essays (aka Veblen on Marx, Race, Science and Economics), (pages 415-418), in this rather interesting paragraph:

The postulates and preconceptions of Marx, wrote Veblen, are drawn from “two distinct lines of antecedents – the Materialistic Hegelianism and the English system of Natural Rights.” From the former he derived his theory of historical development as self-actualizing, a movement unfolding by “inner necessity.” From the latter he arrived at his theory of value and his conviction that the worker is entitled to the whole product of his labor. The problem arises when Marx tries to synthesize these two contrary traditions in the doctrine of class struggle. For in the Hegelian scheme the “dialect of movement of social progress … moves on the spiritual plane of human desire and passion, not on the (literally) material plane of mechanical and physiological stress, on which the developmental process of brute creation unfolds itself. It is sublimated materialism, sublimated by the dominating presence of the conscious human spirit.” The class struggle, on the other hand, “proceeds on motives of interest, and a recognition of class interest can, of course, be achieved only by a reflection on the facts of the case.” Indeed, the doctrine of class struggle is of “utilitarian origin and of English pedigree, and it belongs to Marx by virtue of his having borrowed its elements from the system of self-interest. It is in fact a piece of hedonism, and is related to Bentham rather than to Hegel. It proceeds on the grounds of the hedonistic calculus, which is equally foreign to the Hegelian notion of unfolding process and to the post-Darwinian notions of cumulative causation.”

When it is remembered that the Fabians chose to construct their own genealogy on Benthamism, there seems considerable power in the assertion that the left owes a considerable debt to Bentham. I have noted elsewhere on this site that Graham Wallas, a key Fabian along with the Webbs and George Bernard Shaw, chose to teach Fabians of their origins with a biography of a past key player. Who did Wallas choose to write about? That key associate of Bentham, Francis Place. Wallas described Place as a disciple of Bentham. There is a plan elsewhere on this site of the seating arrangements in the study that Bentham, James Mill and Francis Place shared at Ford Abbey.

So we have Wallas, Veblen and Engels all in agreement on this influence, and that is a pretty neat trio. I am happy to rest my case.

3) HITLER

Having allowed for Godwin’s Law (also here) we may continue because, well … I have no excuse actually. Here goes anyhow.

Bulwer-Lytton is, even today, a well known author, but for all the wrong reasons, or at least for one particularly unfortunate reason. He opened a book with the sentence that began ‘It was a dark and stormy night…’. There is a competition run for aspiring authors to match this long and, it is suggested, overdrawn sentence.

Bulwer-Lytton was, however, one of the 19th century’s most read authors. How reputations fade. He was not an author only, however. He also sat in the House of Commons, and later in the House of Lords, and he was for a time Secretary of State for the Colonies. When he entered parliament he was a follower of Bentham. His position shifted over the years. He also had a deep interest in the occult.

Anyway, Bulwer-Lytton was well admired by Wagner, who visited him whenever he went to London. Thus Wagner came to adapt one of Bulwer Lytton’s books, Rienzi: The Last of the Roman Tribunes (1835) into opera form.

David Redles continues the story in Hitler’s Millennial Reich: Apocalyptic Belief and the Search for Salvation, NYU Press, 2005. (pp.109-110).

According to August Kubizek [a musician and early friend of Hitler’s], a performance of Wagner’s opera Rienzi, in 1906, elicited a mystical and revelatory experience for Hitler. Although considered by many to be one of Wagner’s slightest efforts, Rienzi tells a story that, as much as the music, profoundly moved the young [17yo] Hitler. Based on Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s Rienzi: The Last of the Roman Tribunes, the opera tells the story of a man of the people, a visionary, who, as one scholar explains, “with the cunning mixture of pragmatism and mysticism, attempted to deliver the city from anarchy and corruption.” In one climactic scene beloved by the young Hitler, Rienzi sings, “and if you choose me as your protector of the people’s rights, look at your ancestors and call me your Volk tribune!” The masses shout back, “Rienzi, Heil! Heil, Volk tribune!” During their journey home from the opera, Kubizek reported, Hitler walked in a “totally transported state.”

He recalled,

Never before and never again have I heard Hitler speak as he did in that hour… It was as if another being spoke out of his body, and moved him as much as it did me. It wasn’t at all the case of a speaker being carried away by his own words. On the contrary; I rather felt as though he himself listened with astonishment and emotion to what burst forth from him with elementary force…. It was a state of complete ecstacy and rapture…. He was talking of a mandate which, one day, he would receive from the people, to lead them out of servitude to the heights of freedom.

Kubizek insightfully interpreted this event, noting that “it was a state of complete ecstacy and rapture, in which he transferred the character of Rienzi, without even mentioning him as a model or example, with visionary power to the plane of his own ambitions…. a special mission which one day would be entrusted to him.” In 1939, Hitler invited Kubizek to Bayreuth for the annual Wagner festival. When Kubizek mentioned this episode, he reports that Hitler explained to Winifred Wagner that “in that hour it began.”

Redles continues, noting that some people have questioned the central importance of Rienzi. Redles produces evidence to show its central place in Hitler’s development, not least of which is that ‘Nuremberg party rallies began with the overture to Rienzi, as Hitler arrived triumphant.’

Does this reflect on Bentham at all? Well I hope not. And here is an argument why.

Bulwer-Lytton, in A Strange Story, written in 1862, makes pretty clear his position on reason and mysticism. He gives reason its place, but searches for justification for belief in a soul, and writes of the beginning of a new civilization, with the uniting of the masculine reason with spiritual power of the feminine. Bentham and his crew, on the other hand, were noted for their attachment to reason. Even after his crisis, JS Mill was no enemy of reason, particularly in government, and he insisted upon its application in the Eyre affair. The opposing side wished to allow for rule by sentiment.

Notably, the site for the new civilization proposed by Bulwer-Lytton in A Strange Story is not Germany. It is Australia! Bulwer-Lytton, who had, as noted above, been Secretary of State for the Colonies, wrote of Australia in this book in terms of a brilliant freshness, where, at least in the book, magical powers revitalised human existence. Golly!

As it has turned out in Australia, Bentham’s attachment to reason has dominated over rule by sentiment. For example, Australia is perhaps the first nation to have grown entirely under the strong influence of Smithian economics. This was apparent in Wakefield’s land policy, implemented as Ripon’s rules in 1831, creating Australia’s first wave of mass migration. Ripon’s rules were implemented following representations made to the Colonial Office by third generation Benthamites. Of course, Australia’s political and legal systems too, as they reflect Bentham’s ideas, also owe their structure to reason, rather than, say, to tradition. The retention of common law is a notable exception to Bentham’s ideas. Bentham favoured statutory law alone.

However, it is worthy of note that the two states founded by Benthamites later became pioneers in women’s empowerment, by giving women the vote and opening up parliament for women members. These two states are New Zealand (the first country to give women the vote), and South Australia (the first state (at the time an independent colony)) to give women the vote coupled with the right to stand for election and sit in parliament. So Bulwer-Lytton was kind of on the money, but it was accomplished through the application of reason, which included the development of constitutional democracies with the vote for all. Soon after federation in 1901 Australia gave the vote to women, along with the right to sit in parliament.

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In 1831 E.G. Wakefield sent his ideas for a viable system of colonization founded in economic theory to Jeremy Bentham. After several approaches Bentham was finally convinced of the worth of the ideas, and, becoming enthusiastic, in his typical fashion he got to work to write a finely detailed plan for the colonization of what was to become South Australia. Wakefield was pleased because Bentham’s approval of his ideas gave them an invaluable cachet. Although not all the Benthamites approved of the scheme, Wakefield enjoyed the support of, among others, J.S. Mill and George Grote. While I don’t think there is a Mill Street in Adelaide, there is a Bentham Street, and the two roads bisecting the city centre from east to west are Wakefield and Grote Streets. The north/south bisection is King William Street.

In the post Don Dunstan gets it right (nearly) I note how Wakefield’s aim was not to recreate the British class system, but to create a fluid society where work gained its reward. Bentham, in his notes, makes the following the primary aim of the colonisation project:

1831 Aug. 5
Colonization Proposal
§.1. Special Ends in view
1. Transferring individuals, in an unlimited multitude from a state of indigence to a state of affluence

6. Giving to the immigrants into Australasia not merely the means of existence, as above, but through means of education, the means of well-being in all time to come, as well in respect of the mind, as in respect of the mind.


Observations
The Company (it is supposed) will feel no difficulty as to the engaging to find perpetual employment for all such immigrants as choose to accept it. Not to speak of Buildings, for which skilled labour will on the part of some of the workmen be necessary, the roads and other means of communication will at all times afford an ample demand for ordinary labour.
——————————————————-
1831 May 9
Colonization Society
Ch IV Means of Effectuation
Inducement to
§2 II Settlers without Capital
IV. Ulterior inducement, a certain sum of money which it is […?] to give to each over and above his or her rations: this under the expectation that it will be saved up, to be employed[?] in the purchase of land.

The above selections are from a transcription by Professor Philip Schofield of University College London, director of the Bentham Project at UCL. As far as I am aware they have not yet been published, though the papers are described in Richard Mills’ The Colonization of Australia (1829-42) – The Wakefield Experiment in Empire Building, Chapters VI and VII of which are transcribed on this site (here and here). (For mention of Bentham’s papers see Chapter VI, p 152).

Pike, in Paradise of Dissent, also refers to Bentham’s notes at p57. He states:

[The draft plan was shown] ‘to a variety of influential people for the dual purpose of gaining advice and practical support; among others to Jeremy Bentham. Because he restored the principle of concentration to its central position in the plans of systematic colonization, Bentham richly deserves a place among the founders of South Australia. His rough notes form a draft of a pamphlet entitled:

Colonisation Society Company Proposals, being a Proposal for the formation of Joint Stock Company by the name of the Colonisation Company on an entirely new principle entitled the Vicinity-maximising-or Dispersion-preventing principle.

Bentham was enthusiastic about the benefits to be expected by the English unemployed and by the shareholders. A colony without cost to the mother country impressed him; it might escape patronage, and all other interferences by Downing Street. He warned the colonists to avoid second chambers and federal union with adjacent colonies when the day came for self-government. Their best guarantee of freedom would be simplicity of constitution, and for a pattern he offered his Constitutional Code complete with universal suffrage, vote by ballot, annual parliaments, equal electoral districts and ‘one day elections’ [referring to Constitutional Code, 1830, Chapter VI]. A colony so governed, he declared, should be called Felicia [the title of Don Dunstan’s autobiography] or Felicitania or, the best of all, Liberia – ‘a single word which spoke volumes’.

At page 77 Pike notes Wakefield learned from Adam Smith the doctrine of free-trade, from Bentham the greatest happiness for the greatest number principle.

Unfortunately Pike then goes off on a little frolic of his own, casting a negative light on the whole project as being oppressive to workers. In fact, I suspect Don Dunstan gained not simply his title from Pike, but also his jaded view of the theorists’ intentions.

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This post combines two previous posts: Telemachus and Carthage and Melbourne.

In his book American Aeneas, published in 2001, John Shields, discusses the role of the virtuous Aeneas in American cultural history up to the formation of the constitution, and the later overshadowing (but not disappearance) of this figure by a focus upon Christianity. He mentions that Augustus saved the Aeneid from the fire and used it to support a culture of the virtue of pietas in Rome, pietas being, in Dryden’s terms, ‘Not only devotion to the Gods, but filial love and tender affection to relations of all sorts’.1 Such qualities became personified in the figure of George Washington

Aeneas escapes from Troy with his father, Anchises, and son, Ascanius.  Federico Barocci.

George Washington in fact is constructed as an improvement on Roman virtues, and similarly the structures of government in the US constitution are seen as being modeled on, and an improvement on, Roman institutions.2

Shields says that the checks and balances of a bicameral Congress, for example, signaled the construction of a dynamic and improved Roman republicanism, as did the creation of a judiciary which could check the excesses of Congress, the Executive, or even of the People.’3

Shields continues: ‘I am not trying to suggest that this classical mode of discourse … ever at any time operated to the exclusion of any other influence. The myth of Aeneas, however did exercise a formidable and even a determinative influence [with its culture of virtue]’3

An alternative to basing a constitution on virtue is to base it on self-interest, theorized by Locke and Hume as a key human motivation. Madison approached the matter of constitution making from this perspective. The approach tries to accord constitutions with observed human behaviour, rather than with ideals, which can fail with disastrous results.4

So it is with some interest that we find Aeneas popping his head up in Australian literature at a crucial moment – directly after Gallipoli, and not long after federation, in Henry Handel Richardson’s Australia Felix, the first book in the Richard Mahoney series.

In Chapter 5, Mahoney and his friend Purdy leave the Adam and Eve hotel (let’s face it, we must be in mythical territory with a name like that), and take a look at Melbourne. They stroll to the top of a hill and survey the land, or what they can see of it through a thick gritty dust. They see people like ants going about their business, they see buildings being erected. They see the place where a bullock has sunk into the ground at the bottom of Elizabeth Street.

In the Aeneid we have this: ‘Venus hedged them [Aeneas and Achates] about with a thick mist as they walked. Aeneas and Achates hurried on their way, following the track, and they were soon climbing the great hill which towered over the city and looked down upon the Citadel opposite.’

 

Dido building Carthage, by Turner, 1815

What did they see? People working. ‘They were like bees at the beginning of summer’ And where was this place, Carthage, that they had settled? How was it chosen? ‘Juno, the Queen of the Gods, had led them to this spot where they had dug up the head of a spirited stallion. This was a sign that from generation to generation they would be a race glorious in war and would have no difficulty in finding fields to graze.’

Richardson has cast the bullock, sinking into the mud, as Melbourne’s equivalent of the head of a spirited stallion being dug up. The bullock, is a symbol of work (and if you need convincing of this, it is cast as such in the Aeneid itself). Elsewhere in Australia Felix Richardson tells us that Australia is the land of achievement through work:

Mahoney’s future father in law says:

Show me your muscles, sir, give me a clean bill of health, tell me if you have learnt a trade and can pay your way. See, I will be frank with you. The position I occupy to-day I owe entirely to my own efforts. I landed in the colony ten years ago, when this marvellous city of ours was little more than a village settlement. I had but five pounds in my pocket. To-day I am a partner in my firm, and intend, if all goes well, to enter parliament. Hence I think I may, without presumption, judge what makes for success here, and of the type of man to attain it. Work, hard work, is the key to all doors.

The resonances of Richardson’s use of the Aeneid are magnified, if it is remembered that Aeneas was a Trojan. He fled Troy, on its fall, to found a city, which became Rome. Troy itself was founded by Dardanus – after which the nearby Dardanelles are named. And that is where Gallipoli is. 

 Gallipoli

Officers, I am told, were well aware of the connection between the land where they were fighting at Gallipoli, and the ancient story. It is in their letters. It seems that the highly cultivated Richardson, one of Australia’s greatest writers, was also aware of this connection.

As far as Australia being established during an era when work, not virtue and glory, was dominant, Jenks observes that Carlyle believed ‘the genius of the new age will not be glory, beauty, or knowledge, but work’5. The age to which he refers, is the age that was swamping Carlyle’s society, that of Benthamite utilitarianism.

DeQuincey, a Tory, laments in 1836, ‘’…the Radicals wear the erect and cheerful air of men confident in their own resources; borrowing nothing, owing nothing; having no exposures to fear, no ultimate defeats to face; the sole question for them being, as to the particular point at which their victories will stop.’’

But what of Telemachus. How does he fit into the picture? The book Telemachus was written by Archbishop Fenelon who was tutor to the grandson of Louis XIV. This boy was second in line for the throne. Fenelon wrote the book to help transform the unruly boy into a future monarch capable of bearing his responsibilities with virtue. Fenelon’s success was attested to, but his charge died before he could assume the throne. Fenelon’s work was undone.

 

François de Salignac de La Mothe-Fénelon (b. 1651- d. 1715), Fénelon, preceptor to Louis XIV’s grandson, the Duke of Burgundy.

 But not quite. Because, the book became one of the most widely read of the 18th century. In particular it was read by someone who became prominent in 19C political philosophy, and who chose to follow its precepts. That someone was described by Madame de Stael, a notable figure of French literature and salon society during the late 1700s and early 1800s, as one of the two most important people in Europe. She was referring to Jeremy Bentham. The other person was Napoleon.

Fenelon’s book, according to Bentham, influenced his life from the time he read it at 7 years old. Not only did he try to live up to its standard of virtue, but he also noted late in life, that the election of the king of Crete in the book had sown the seed of democracy in him. There is one more thing however to be drawn from the book. That of non-violent change. One can compare that spirited stallion of Dido, in the Aeneid, and the battles of Aeneas when he arrives in Italy, with the concentration on peaceful negotiated accommodation of rivals in Telemachus.

Telemachus is a book preaching the gospel of sound government by respect for others. It is not a book of a warrior culture – in fact it is designed to be exactly the opposite of that, being, allegorically, a criticism of the aggressive policies of Louis XIV. It earned Fenelon exile. The same theme of avoidance of bloody conflict can be seen right through the activities of Bentham and the Benthamites. The Charter, for example, was written by Place, a Benthamite who worked in close confines and consultation with Bentham – there is even a diagram showing the arrangement of their desks in the same room; and Roebuck, who was a Benthamite; and Lovett, who turned his back on Owenite socialism adopting many of the Benthamite principles. The Charter had the effect not just of unifying disparate political voices, but also of creating a set series of goals.

Earlier, Place had observed this to be a useful way to control meetings and avoid violence – accomplished by setting an agenda and a set series of goals. This made for peaceful demonstration with peaceful outcomes.6 The utilitarians pushed the protest movement to the edge, when necessary – James Mill is attributed with this role during the agitation for the Reform Bill passed in 1832, but the aim was never to pass to actual revolution.7 The French revolution served as a useful reminder of the result of that.

This paradigm of peace in Telemachus can be contrasted neatly with the Aeneid paradigm of the warrior culture. For example at the half-way point in each book the hero arrives at a new place. For Aeneas the result is a prolonged war with the local populations. For Telemachus, through the wisdom of Mentor, the result is a long peace.

Both have a connection to the Trojan myth, and, as it happens both Telemachus and Aeneas are sailing the Mediterranean at the same time. Telemachus is looking for his father and Aeneas is looking for a site for his city.

Telemachus sees the Aeneid fleet, and sails right through it, in disguise, avoiding what he knows will be an inevitable battle if the Trojan Aeneas recognizes the son of his foe, the Greek Odysseus. Telemachus escapes.

Through Bentham, this culture of peaceful co-existence was transferred into the Benthamite culture of work and happiness, displacing the culture of militaristic virtue that had ruled Europe for 2000 years. Thus we live in a new age. I do not suggest that Bentham is the only progenitor of this new way of organizing society. For example Darrin McMahon, in The Pursuit of Happiness, traces the evolution of the idea of happiness from Plato onwards, with its triumph in the 18th or 19th centuries. But, as Madame de Stael and others observed, Bentham had a major role in the shift in culture.

 

Madame de Stael – see at BBC and letter from Jefferson.

Maine, for example, says there is not a single legal reform of the 19th century, or piece of reformist legislation, which cannot be traced back to the influence of Bentham. 8 Even Engels states that proletarian socialism appropriated Bentham’s ideas.9

And the Australian Constitution is no exception to this Benthamite influence. After 1831 colonisation was conducted on Benthamite lines and independence for the colonies was demanded by those same Benthamites that set up the colonies. New Zealand and South Australia were nothing less than Benthamite experiments, and independence, at the appropriate time, had been a part of the projects from the beginning.

It is no coincidence, as well, that women’s voting should have been first introduced in these two places. Women’s franchise, and full adult suffrage, was a policy of the Benthamites from the 1820s.

Our federal Constitution was derived from several sources – in the first place its federal component was modeled on the USA. It was also taken from the Benthamite-inspired study of the Aechean league by Freeman, whose direction was taken from Grotes’ study of Grecian democracy. Grote was a key Benthamite. To a large extent, also, the understanding of the US Constitution was mediated by James Bryce, who adopted the Austinian approach to constitutionalism. Austin was a Benthamite.

However the most important non-federal component of the constitution was to refrain from separating the executive from the legislature, as is done in the United States. This provided an empowered executive. This structure is known as responsible government, because the executive is responsible to parliament. Responsible government for the colonies was advocated by Benthamites from 1829, before it existed in England, and Benthamites played a key role in its introduction in England. Responsible government reflects the Benthamite idea of a powerful executive, but one closely tied to the discipline of the people.

But what then of virtue and glory? Australia had, by the early 20th century, proved its capacity to govern itself, to produce wealth, and to create an equitable society under the rubric of ‘state socialism’, with a trajectory towards progressive social policy through an empowered executive. But after all these achievements, it still lacked something for which, apparently, a need continued to be felt. After the work was done, the virtue of the classical warrior still called. And this was played out in a disaster that probably, or hopefully anyhow, forever crushed a hankering for this kind of glory – namely World War One. Richardson alluded to that echo of the virtuous warrior across 2 or 3000 years in her book. But as it is, I believe Australia cannot be called a warrior culture, and for that the book Telemachus can be seen as a symbol, with its direct link to our social and political formation.

 1. Shields, John C., Title The American Aeneas : classical origins of the American self, Knoxville : University of Tennessee Press, c2001. p166 []

2. Shields, John C., Title The American Aeneas : classical origins of the American self, Knoxville : University of Tennessee Press, c2001. p204 []

3. Shields, John C., Title The American Aeneas : classical origins of the American self, Knoxville : University of Tennessee Press, c2001. p205 []

4. Shields, John C., Title The American Aeneas : classical origins of the American self, Knoxville : University of Tennessee Press, c2001. p170-172 []

5. This is a quote of Jenks, in Thomas Carlyle and John Stuart Mill, 1888, p203 []

6. Plotz, Crowd Power: Chartism, Carlyle, and the Victorian Public Sphere, Representations, No. 70. (Spring, 2000), pp. 87-114 []

7. Hamburger – James Mill and the art of revolution []

8. Wallas, Graham, Jeremy Bentham, Political Science Quarterly, Vol. 38, No. 1. (Mar., 1923), pp. 45-56, at 51 []

9. Engels, Condition of the Working Class in England, 1845. Ch: Labour Movements. []

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Plan of the first floor room at Ford Abbey where Bentham, Mill and Place worked.

From the UCL Bentham website.

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Follow this link to a discussion of the utilitarian approach to policy-making. One thing that is missing from the article is the recognition that when policy-making goes awry, the government gets the boot. Ultimately policy is made to satisfy the self-interest of individuals in the community, who, every three or so years, deliver their verdict on its effectiveness.

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Telemachus

The biography of Bentham in the Dictionary of National Biography1 states:

At six or seven he began to learn French. Telemachus was an unending delight to him; in old age he had a vivid recollection of the feelings with which he read that tale, especially the description of the election by competition to the throne of Crete. ‘That romance may be regarded as the foundation of my whole character; the starting-point from whence my career of life commenced.’

 

Telemachus

Telemachus? What book might that be? Here’s what the Google Book search reveals:

Fénelon’s Telemachus ranks with Bossuet’s Politics as the most important work of political theory of the French grand siecle, influencing Montesquieu and Rousseau in its attempt to combine monarchism with republican virtues. Telling the tale of Ulysses‘ son Telemachus‘ education by his tutor Mentor (the goddess Minerva in disguise), it shows him learning the qualities of patience, courage, modesty and simplicity, needed when he succeeds as King of Ithaca. It is a commentary on the bellicosity and luxuriousness of Louis XIV.

And the book itself can be found on Google here.

Fénelon

But Fénelon himself is worthy of a moment’s contemplation. There is a short biography at Wikipedia. This mentions Fénelon’s Quietism. (You might also like to see the disambiguation page here.) Quietism has at its core a state of mind that fits both with Stoicism and Epicureanism. Add to this the aim of Fénelon’s work, as elucidated by Chevalier Ramsay, and the subject gets very close to Bentham’s own philosophical position. Ramsay, a contemporary and friend of Fénelon, states in the introduction of the Google scanned copy at p xii in a footnote that:

The attention of the reader is particularly directed to this precious object of the author. The Telemachus is not to be read as romance but as a development of the principals of government which might greatly tend to promote the happiness of mankind.

Bentham could hardly have put it better himself…

Elsewhere on this site I have discussed the comparison made by the author of Australia Felix (not the website, but the 1917 novel!), Henry Handel Richardson, between Carthage, as presented in the Aeneid, and Melbourne. I have also noted the connection between the Anzac legend and Troy. Now here is yet another connection to the Trojan story – Odysseus’s son, Telemachus, is used by Fénelon as a vehicle for his anti-monarchical romance.

1. Sir Lesley Stephen & Sir Sidney Lee (eds.), Dictionary of National Biography: from the earliest times to 1900 (London, Oxford University Press, 1949). []

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What happens when Australian history is reconnected with British developments in democracy? Some interesting revision to the received historical wisdom, developed since around 1915, becomes inevitable. Moreover, the role of Benthamites becomes central to the Australian story.

For example, lets have a look at a couple of propositions made at the website Documenting a Democracy. Click on the map of Victoria, and then on Victoria Constitution Act 1855 (UK) – The Spirit of Eureka, or just click here.

There you will find the statement:

Strictly speaking, the advent of self-government was not brought about by Eureka, but had already been set in train. However, the principles of democracy and liberty overwhelmingly demonstrated at Eureka Stockade quickly entered into the Victorian system of representative government.

 This is not a huge misconception, but bear with me for a few quotes and I hope you will see something of a pattern emerge…

So what is wrong with this quote? Well, what is the ‘Strictly speaking’ there for? That phrase is used where something is only true in absolute fact, but not in experienced reality. Here, one can only imagine that it is intended to create the impression that the fact is different from the experienced reality.

In fact not only was self-government set in train in Britain, but self-government for the colonies had been on the agenda there since the 1830s. For some, including Wakefield and the utilitarians, eventual self-government was an intrinsic part of policy implemented by Britain from 1831 onwards. In 1831 Ripon’s Rules were put in place. These were the first implementation of Wakefield’s policy for land sales, a policy that had embedded within it the idea that colonies should become independent.

British expectations and influence on democratic reform in the colonies did not stop there. Eureka was strongly influenced by the Chartist movement. You can see this claim here. Given that it’s not a matter of ’strictly speaking’, but of absolute fact and experienced reality, that the democratic reforms emerged both from British administrative action and a British political movement that had seized Britain for years and was brought here by British immigrants, lets quickly look at the names of some key players in the field.

Ripon’s Rules were implemented as a result of agitation, mainly by utilitarians. (See here and here.) Among many others, Jeremy Bentham and J. S. Mill played a role, along with Wakefield. Wakefield’s writings repeatedly referred to the eventual independence of the colonies.

Independent government was at the heart of the Durham Report. This report was framed for Canada, but its reforms were seen to have application for Australia. Though not specifically utilitarian himself, Durham was seen as a potential parliamentary leader for the utilitarians. He went to Canada with the utilitarians Wakefield and Charles Buller as his advisors, and so fully does the Report implement policy consistent with utilitarian ideas, it was long thought that in fact Buller and/or Wakefield had drafted it. In fact the Encyclopedia Britannica still makes that claim (here).

John George Lambton, 1st earl of Durham also called Baron Durham (1828–33) British reformist Whig statesman sometimes known as “Radical Jack,” governor general and lord high commissioner of Canada, and nominal author of the Report on the Affairs of British North America (1839), which for many years served as a guide to British imperial policy. The “Durham Report” was largely written by his chief secretary in Canada, Charles Buller (1806 – 1848).

Ok, so far we have established that speaking in any terms, Eureka was not the birthplace of Australian democracy. Though, as noted in the article, it was an important point of demonstration in favour of representation – or, perhaps better put, an important point of expression of the desire for an extension of the vote to miners so they could participate in the representative institutions.

Next:

Now, at the same site go to here, again in the section on Victoria, showing the Electoral Act of 1856. Here it is stated:

The Electoral Act 1856 passed through Parliament (with a one vote majority) on 13 March 1856, and received the Governor’s Assent on 19 March. Victoria thus became the first Australian colony, and the first legislature anywhere in the world, to adopt the practice of the secret ballot, as opposed to open voting. The arguments for the practice – designed to protect electors from pressure and recrimination – had been discussed in Britain, but secret voting was not adopted there until later.

However elsewhere, at a different website, we find that the Charter of 1838 had included as one of its six points:

“The suffrage, to be exempt from the corruption of the wealthy and the violence of the powerful, must be secret.”

Now it is necessary to ask to what activities does the phrase ‘had been discussed’ refer in the Documenting a Democracy website. This ‘discussion’ includes parliamentary discussion (for example, here).

It includes rather large petitions, and violent riots (both here). The Plug Plot case is but one of many vast public rallies, not all of which ended in violence.

It also resulted in some rather violent deaths, at the Westgate Hotel in Newport.

In fact Britain was (arguably) brought nearly to the point of full-scale rebellion or revolution by the democratic ideals expressed in the Charter. One of these ideals was the secret ballot. Those who came out to Australia were in many instances filled with these democratic ideals. These people soon shaped Australian democracy to represent those ideals. In this manner Australia was indeed very advanced in its democratic reforms. But the impetus came not from some unique Australian character, but from the expression of a British reform movement which had supporters at all levels of society.

The Charter itself was written by two utilitarians (Place and Roebuck), and Lovett. Lovett had recanted the core of his Owenite ideals in response to the political education he underwent as a member of the London Working Men’s Association, established as an initiative of utilitarians. Lovett’s biography is clear on this shift in ideals, and its cause. In his biography,1 at pages 44 and 48 Lovett is clear that he abandoned Owen’s idea of community of property, and he is also clear that he considered Owen anti-democratic.

As an aside from the main argument here, note that a common representation of Lovett reads along the lines of that at www.chartists.net.

William Lovett, a cabinet maker, originally from Cornwall, who had become active in trade unionism and Owenite socialism before turning to the campaign to repeal taxes on newspapers;

forgetting to mention he recanted much of the Owenite program.

In any case what the phrase ‘had been discussed’ refers to is petition, riot, and death. When I first read the phrase I imagined a few people sitting around a table in polite discussion over, perhaps, a cup of tea, speculating on the possibility of the secret ballot, while the real action was occurring in Australia. Not so. Real action was everywhere. But certainly, democracy made its advance most easily, and with far less drama, in the new colonies. Systems that were in place that privileged particular social groups were quickly removed through parliamentary battles, including redesigning elements of parliament itself. Land reform and wealth distribution that have not been resolved in 500 years of South American history, were pretty much worked through in 20 years in Australia.

So who was doing the agitating for democracy in Australia? And on what principles? We have seen here that there was not, and never was intended to be, a permanent working class in Australia. Australia was to be a fluid society that was to reward hard work. There could not be a ‘class war’ because there was no fixed class system. Everyone could aspire to wealth, either for themselves, or, through education and work, for their children.

However the story seems often to be told from the point of view of Dunstan’s ‘permanent working class’, including the likes of those at Eureka. This oppressed ‘class’ rose up, demanded representative institutions, and gradually achieved reforms against the oppressive social order constructed by, what is presumably to be understood as, a permanent elite. Moreover the agitation was done by true-blue Aussies, with nary a nasty pom in sight.

Having set the scene, the next thing is to provide some further quotes. However, for now, that is where I will leave it.

1. Lovett, William. The life and struggles of William Lovett, New York, Garland Pub, 1984 originally published by Trubner, 1876 []

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At 11:50am on October 15, 1970 33 workers were killed when a section of the Westgate Bridge, under construction in Melbourne, collapsed. The bridge connects Port Melbourne with the suburb of Newport, and more generally, western Melbourne with the remainder of the city. Western Melbourne has long been the home of much of Melbourne’s industry, and many of the residents of the region worked in the local factories.

   

That the bridge connects the west of Melbourne with the remainder has always satisfied me as a reason for the name ‘Westgate’. I was surprised, then, to find an altogether more meaningful reason for the name, that I can only presume was the real reason.

On the 4th of November 1839 John Frost and an estimated 3,000 or so men and women marched to Newport, in Wales, where they attempted to free Chartists who had been arrested and held in the Westgate Hotel. This, it is thought, was to be the beginning of an uprising, to take control of government and implement the terms of the Charter – 6 points that broadly paint the picture of democracy as we know it today. Some twenty of the protesters were killed that day, and another fifty or so were injured.

Peculiarly, considering that eventually all the reforms in the Charter have been implemented, Chartism is seen to have failed. It certainly did not achieve its aims overnight. But, on the other hand, if the subsequent political developments amount to failure, then that’s a pretty good kind of failure to have.

It is true that socialist Chartism did not get its socialism, proletarian Chartism did not get its communism. (These are Engels’ categories.) But the Charter itself was implemented, and as Engels has it (1892), that looks pretty much like success:

 Of the legal enactments, placing the workman at a lower level or at a disadvantage with regard to the master, at least the most revolting were repealed. And, practically, that horrid [this is Engels using irony, in the context of the rest of the article] ‘People’s Charter’ actually became the political programme of the very manufacturers who had opposed it to the last. ‘The Abolition of the Property Qualification’ and ‘Vote by Ballot’ are now the law of the land. The Reform Acts of 1867 and 1884 make a near approach to ‘universal suffrage,’ at least such as it now exists in Germany; the Redistribution Bill now before Parliament creates ‘equal electoral districts’ — on the whole not more unequal than those of Germany; ‘payment of members,’ and shorter, if not actually ‘annual Parliaments,’ are visibly looming in the distance — and yet there are people who say that Chartism is dead.1

 

1. Engels. The Condition of the Working Class in England, 1892, Preface to the English Edition []

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Don Dunstan (and here) was an inspirational Australian premier. He was a lawyer and politician inspired by literature, history, the arts. His autobiography, Felicia, begins not with his own entry into the world, but South Australia’s.  Dunstan discusses the Wakefield legacy, and even somewhat tangentially draws the connection between the Chartists and the Wakefield crew. However he makes some allusions which require clarification.

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A)

‘The proceeds from the land sales should then be used to bring out pauper emigrants with free passage who would then form a permanent working class.’

Dunstan is not quite correct here. He implies that there was an attempt to create a class from which escape was unlikely. In fact the Wakefield system was designed to enable the worker to accumulate sufficient capital in three or so years1 to purchase land and become an employer of newly arriving labour, who then would replicate the cycle. There would always be labourers but, with application, they could move on up the social hierarchy – not, in strict terms, a labouring class at all. We can see the effects of this structure in Australia Felix (for plot spoiler, here), by Henry Handel Richardson (chapter 8). The self-made Turnham says to Mahoney:

Show me your muscles, sir, give me a clean bill of health, tell me if you have learnt a trade and can pay your way. See, I will be frank with you. The position I occupy to-day I owe entirely to my own efforts. I landed in the colony ten years ago, when this marvellous city of ours was little more than a village settlement. I had but five pounds in my pocket. To-day I am a partner in my firm, and intend, if all goes well, to enter parliament. Hence I think I may, without presumption, judge what makes for success here, and of the type of man to attain it. Work, hard work, is the key to all doors. So convinced am I of this, that I have insisted on the younger members of my family learning betimes to put their shoulders to the wheel.

Wakefield states:

…in a colony, the poor man and the rich are thrown on their personal resources, as they never could have been at home. The rich man quickly sinks, unless his industry and enterprise sustain him; and the poor man as surely rises, unless his follies or vices keep him down. There is thus everywhere a strong natural tendency towards equality of condition, which at once made hereditary aristocracy impossible, and admits neither of immense wealth, nor yet of immense destitution, which are to be found side by side on the Old World.

By the way, Richardson, I think, delves right down into the mythology of the creation of a society when she takes the reader through a tour of the bustle of Melbourne… (here)

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B)

The theory appealed to a group of radical members of parliament and dissenting churchmen who gave support to some of the theories of Jeremy Bentham. They were not so much Chartists as benevolently concerned with the welfare of the poor, including their spiritual welfare.

That they were ‘not so much Chartists’ is not so. See Chapters VI and VII of Richard Mills, transcribed on this site (here and here), to read about utilitarian involvement with the Wakefield system. One of the main objects of the utilitarians were the democratic reforms advocated by the Chartists. Two of the three authors of the Charter were utilitarians.

The myth that Dunstan is subscribing to tends to help buttress an analysis of Australian foundation that overlooks the intention that the social structure be fluid and democratic, as, in fact, it has turned out to be.

Of Eureka, at Ballarat, Richardson’s character, Turnham, has it that:

I am, as you are aware, my dear Mahony, no sentimentalist. But these rioters of yours seem to me the very type of man the country needs. Could we have a better bedrock on which to build than these fearless champions of liberty?

Chartism was a strong influence on the politics played out at Ballarat. See for example here, and here.

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C)

They saw the dual opportunity to create a replica of English society in what they believed was its properly ordained order: masters and men, those with money, and those who worked for them: but a society which did not reproduce what they saw was the major unfairness of the England in which they lived…

This conclusion cannot be supported from the evidence as discussed above. It is worth noting too, that the utilitarians, in arguing, as they did for full franchise of the electorate, including for women, were aiming for political control to fall to the majority, who, of course, they knew to be the middle and labouring classes. In arguing for this they were arguing for the majority to have control over the laws that created the financial relationships. In addition, a part of the Wakefield theory was that the colonies gain independence in its affairs of government as soon as practicable, except in matters affecting the Empire as a whole.

Mills states this at p122:

In course of time, Wakefield thought, the colonies would manage not only their waste lands, but all other matters which concerned them. “I believe there is a period in the existence of every important colony when the power of independence arrives; and that, let the mother-country wish what it may, the colony will make laws of every sort and kind, and among others, laws relating to waste land.”

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This goes to the heart of the foundation of Australia as a society where work will gain reward, and where class is no barrier. This was the intention of policy advocated by utilitarians, policy which had the most profound influence in Australia. As Graham Wallas puts it in his Introduction in Mills (p xiv):

Writing, as I am, in July, 1915, I do not claim that the world system which was developed during the nineteenth century has been conspicuously successful in ensuring human progress and happiness; but I am at least sure that Australia and New Zealand have made a better start in social organization than Cuba or Paraguay, and that they owe that better start largely to the fact that Wakefield and his followers forced the British Government in the critical years of 1830 to 1845 to awake from its absence of mind.

1.  In the Report from the Select Committee of The Disposal of Lands in the British Colonies together with the Minutes of Evidence and Appendix, 1836, p37, Wakefield states that the ’sufficient price’ should be such that ‘the difficulty of obtaining land were such that every freeman was obliged, during three years of his life, to work for wages. That would be considered a very slight difficulty in this country [Britain], if every poor man could insure to himself, by three years of hired labour, to become a land-owner…’. Note at p79, para 789 Wakefield points out that he uses the period of three years as an example only, and that the period is dependent upon the price of land, as it influences wages. This price, he is a pains to point out, is for local authorities to determine. []

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This was actually my second post, but a little inexperience and a bit too much gung-ho resulted in its accidental deletion…

Bentham in Australia? I’ve never heard of him… It is not unexpected that most Australians have little idea of Jeremy Bentham. If anyone has actually heard of him it is probably for one of the following two reasons:
1) In relation to the moral philosophy (how you live your life) that we do things to gain pleasure and avoid pain. Sometimes attributed to Bentham is the moral philosophy that runs, more or less, one should do acts that produce the ‘greatest happiness for the greatest number’ – which is a pretty debatable interpretation. Anyhow, there are many shades of utilitarian philosophy. Peter Singer is a utilitarian.

2) For those involved with legal or political things Bentham is sometimes presented as wanting the legal and political structure of society to be ordered in such a way as to create the ‘greatest happiness for the greatest number’ – which is often immediately criticized as inviting majoritarianism. By which I mean Bentham is most frequently dismissed with a wave of the hand by suggesting that under his system if 51% of the population wanted to destroy the remaining 49% then that would be just fine, so long as it made the 51% very very happy. The discussion then moves on to JS Mill who put up ideas to overcome this problem, and this has become known as liberalism – the rights of the individual against the state (or the majority). However Bentham was fully aware of the issue, and never advocated raw majoritarianism unmediated by consideration of the happiness of the minority. Mill can probably be described as the one who best formulated the solution most satisfactorily for western societies. Whether Mill’s liberalism is simply refined utilitarianism or a new species in political philosophy is a site of some scholarly consideration. It may depend somewhat upon its implementation. And from this emerges a discussion of the relative political cultures of the US cf Australia.

3) Ah ha – there is a third reason some have heard of Bentham, and that is from his interest in prison design. Bentham’s panopticon has achieved iconic status as a result of its use by Foucault as a physical representation of the surveilling state. Carlyle on the other hand objected to Bentham’s prison system as he saw it as too kind to prisoners. Many a convict left Ol’ Blighty through the portals of Bentham’s prison at Millbank, on the bank of the Thames in London. There are many Bentham-inspired prisons throughout the world, including some in Australia.

Other than (or despite) these three themes, for most Australians, the mention of Bentham produces a great big ‘who‘?

So now it’s time to give a rundown of some of the areas in which his influence has been felt:

Education - see John Gascoigne’s excellent book (in books page) for an extended discussion of the implementation of Benthamite policies and methods in education in Australia during the 19C. There is much to be said on this general topic, and still much research to be done. This is not the time to explore the topic. The utilitarian position on the need for education was profound enough for Dickens to base his infamous Mr Gradgrind (Dickens, Hard Times) on utilitarian educational methods. It is an (inaccurate) parody of Bentham’s educational ideas.

It is so easy to stray from topic – as I was saying, further Benthamite influence in Australia is:

Land policy: In 1831 the regular granting of land in NSW was stopped and a set of rules known as Ripon’s Rules was put in place. Land was to be sold, and the proceeds were to be put to use to sponsor new immigrants to Australia. The land policy was put into place to prevent granting of land according to the principles of patronage, to prevent the population being spread too thinly over the land, and to generate money to sponsor migration. The policy put in place ideas developed by Edward Gibbon Wakefield, and these ideas were picked up by, and promoted by utilitarians, including JS Mill, Jeremy Bentham, Charles Buller (when you go skiing, remember it’s all about happiness), George Grote and William Molesworth. (Those who live in Adelaide will begin to see their street plan.) These utilitarians were mostly very young men, and formed a society, known as the National Colonization Society, to promote the plan. Ripon’s Rules were implemented as a result of their lobbying the Colonial Office.

Most historians overlook Wakefield’s and the utilitarians’ influence in the development and implementation of Ripon’s Rules, even though the policy is central to Australia’s early development from a penal colony to a settler colony. For example, Manning Clark, in his multi-volume ‘A History of Australia’, overlooked the origin of the ideas. Did he think it irrelevant to Australian history? Probably not. Richard Mills covered the topic in his book The Colonization of Australia (1829-1842) (published 1915). Clark was familiar with the book, and saw it as notable enough to give it as a present in 1970 – I have an inscribed copy I found at a specialist book seller.1 Notably Mills‘ book emerged from a PhD thesis completed by Mills at the (at the time) Fabian institution, the London School of Economics, supervised by the key Fabian, Graham Wallas. In the introduction Wallas states (p. xiv):

Writing as I am in July 1915, I do not claim that the world system which was developed during the nineteenth century has been conspicuously successful in ensuring human progress and happiness; but I am at least sure that Australia and New Zealand have made a better start in social organization than Cuba or Paraguay, and that they owe that better start to the fact that Wakefield and his followers forced the British Government in the critical years of 1830 to 1845 to awake from its absence of mind.

Is Wallas saying we owe our social organisation to Wakefield and the utilitarians? Sounds a lot like it. And yet, even the best read Australians have hardly heard of the utilitarians.

It is also notable that Wakefield developed his ideas from the difficulties in Canadian colonisation reported by Robert Gourlay, and also from the failure of the Swan Bay (Western Australia) colony. This is not the only time that Australian developments, utilitarians, and Canada have all had close association – when the time comes to discuss the Australian colonial constitutions the link will be made again.

There is also more to be said about South Australia, but that will come later.

Immigration: See ‘land policy’ above – the two policies were interdependent.

Politics: Chartism (and here) has had a large role to play in the development of Australian political institutions and culture. See for example here, and here. Chartism sought to implement the six points of a document known as The People’s Charter, published in 1838. The points were:

Universal suffrage for all men over the age of 21
Equal-sized electoral districts
Voting by secret ballot
An end to the need for a property qualification for Parliament
Pay for members of Parliament
Annual election of Parliament

These points had been objects of political struggle and debate for many years both among those without the vote – those with little or no property, and among political theorists, such as Bentham and the utilitarians. Three people were responsible for the actual drafting of the Charter; William Lovett, Francis Place and John Arthur Roebuck. Roebuck was a dyed-in-the-wool utilitarian and parliamentarian. Place was friend of Bentham’s, and was chosen by James Mill as political tutor to his son, JS Mill. Place was, in Wallas’s words, a ‘disciple of Bentham’. (See the biography of Place by Graham Wallas, and also Place’s autobiography (see books page).) Lovett was a self-taught political agitator who had come into contact with the political ideas of Place and Roebuck through his membership of the London Working Men’s Association. According to Lovett, Roebuck was to have drafted the Charter, but, being busy, Lovett undertook the task. Lovett then gave it to the other two for their additions and alterations. The Charter was a combined effort, but exactly what the combination was is uncertain.

John Arthur Roebuck

The Wikpedia entry in relation to the London Working Men’s Association at 20 June 2007 reads:

The London Working Men’s Association was an organization established in London in 1836. It was one of the foundations of Chartism. The founders were William Lovett, Francis Place and Henry Hetherington. They appealed to skilled workers rather than the mass of unskilled factory labourers. They were associated with Owenite socialism and the movement for general education.

This is not untypical of the representation commonly made about the identity and beliefs of the authors of the Charter. In fact, however, Lovett specifically repudiated Owenite version of socialism, rejecting both Owen’s anti-democratic sentiments, and his ideas of a ‘community of property’, while retaining a belief in the possiblity of ‘co-operation in the production of wealth’, as long as it included individual reward for effort. By 1838 Place could not have been less sympathetic to Owenite politics.

Reading DJ Rowe’s article ‘The London Working Men’s Association and the “People’s Charter”, in Past and Present, number 36, (1967) and Prothero’s reply in number 38, (also 1967), alongside Lovett’s autobigraphy, it appears we will never know the actual authorship of the Charter (between Lovett and Place). However both Lovett and Place can be seen as making a significant contribution, with Roebuck writing the preface, and all working in concert. Prothero allows that Dr Black, ‘…was the chief driving force behind the formation of the [London] Working Men’s Association.’ Dr John Black was editor of The Morning Chronicle, and, according to Hamburger in James Mill and the Art of Revolution, he was under the influence of James Mill and Francis Place - both strongly supportive of Bentham, and intimately acquainted with him.

From, all of this, we can at least say that the Charter itself, as a political tactic, emerged from the initiative of, and, at least in part, the actual pens of Benthamites. Which is not to say that the ideas embodied within it were not current throughout many diverse political organisations. In fact, that was the whole point. As Lovett observes, it served to allow competing political groups to lay aside their differences and fight for the one thing upon which they all agreed – the six points. Both the London Working Men’s Association, and its brainchild, the Charter, can be seen as significant Benthamite achievements. But the glory must be shared with others, that seems certain. The net influence of the Charter was for peaceful change. This fact is in direct contradiction to the way the influence of the Charter is protrayed in most texts. Chartism is portrayed as a movement solely of th eworking class, with a twist of violence. while this was true for one form of Chartism, the Chartism that actually won the day was a Chartism of peaceful change. The violent version merely served to retard democratic development in England for 50 years in comparison with Australia, where the peaceful form was completely dominant over the violent form.

There is a further element of influence of Bentham upon Chartism that demands greater research. That is the statement of Engels in the chapter ‘Labour Movements’ of Condition of the Working Class in England (1845): (press ‘ctrl + f’ to search for ‘Bentham’ and ‘happiness’.)

The two great practical philosophers of latest date, Bentham and Godwin, are, especially the latter, almost exclusively the property of the proletariat; for though Bentham has a school within the Radical bourgeoisie, it is only the proletariat and the Socialists who have succeeded in developing his teachings a step forward.

The chapter is primarily about Chartism. Engels states at one point:

Therein lies the difference between Chartist democracy and all previous political bourgeois democracy. Chartism is of an essentially social nature, a class movement. The “Six Points” which for the Radical bourgeois are the beginning and end of the matter, which are meant, at the utmost to call forth certain further reforms of the Constitution, are for the proletarian a mere means to further ends. “Political power our means, social happiness our end,” is now the clearly formulated war-cry of the Chartists.

This concentration on happiness echoes Chartist documents recorded in Lovett’s autobiography. These all have that same Benthamite ring in seeking the greatest happiness. Bentham’s ‘happiness’ had become the language of the age. However, unlike Engels, Bentham did not have in mind the abandonment of the idea of property, and he thought that pleasure and pain, manifested as self-interest, was the main driver of human endeavour. He believed that the idea of property protected the weak, by at least providing some protection against the pleasure-seeking whims of the strong. He also believed that people liked to live in the hope of greater wealth, and that the abandonment of the idea of property would lead to the abandonment of hope.

Full-franchise democracy, Bentham believed, would not result in the seizure of all property by the poor, as was hoped for by some and feared by others, but instead would result in a system that would enable the the majority, who were poorer, to ensure that their interests were met by government, while retaining the idea of property, including disparities in levels of prosperity.

While trying to construct a system from first principles, Bentham was able, also, to look towards the United States. There he did not see a scramble towards the abandonment of property and a move to equalisation in this experiment in democracy, but instead he saw a massive unleashing of constructive, property oriented, energy.

It appears that for some reason the Benthamite influence in Chartism has been washed out from scholarship. It seems too, that Engles has no problem recording it. It is not unfair to suggest, however, that the very existence of the Charter itself, and Chartism as a focussed political endeavour, owes much to Benthamite influence.

What does all this lead up to? If it can be said that Chartism has played a strong role in the democratic development of Australia, then Bentham too must be given a profoundly important place in that discussion. While every American knows of Jefferson’s ‘pursuit of happiness’ how many Australians know that their own political structure was built on the idea of happiness?

My own interest in this is strong – that which inspires democracy inspires a democratic constitution. Bentham’s influence in this process is what my thesis is about.

Post script:

Now the thesis is written it appears the Australian colonial and federal constitutions owe a vast amount to Benthamite influence. Some of the people involved in the transmission of Bentham’s system into the Australian political structures and culture are discussed in posts which follow.
1. An additional copy that I have of Richard Mills’ ‘The Colonization of Australia’ , the 1915 edition, has taped inside the cover a part of an envelope or sticker bearing the address of ‘Mrs S Mills, Heyfield, Gippsland’ []

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Australia was established as a land where work would gain its reward. But how can we locate the Anzac tradition within that? Was work not enough to establish nationhood?

Just compare these two texts. One was written almost 100 years ago by Henry Handel Richardson, published in 1917, during World War One, after the Gallipoli campaign. The other was written 2000 years ago by Virgil, telling a story of 3000 years ago. (Having just gone to the Wikipedia site to make this link, I have noticed that Virgil was a student of Siro the Epicurean. Now that provides a kind of meaningless fascination, because the philosophical origins of utilitarianism can be traced back to Epicurianism, but more on that later.) The texts both portray the energy of a new city, one Carthage, the other (yep!) Melbourne.

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Henry Handel Richardson (Ethel Florence Lindesay) 1920s

From Australia Felix by Henry Handel Richardson (downloaded from Project Gutenberg)

Chapter V:
Melbourne is built on two hills and the valley that lies between.

It was over a year since Mahony or Purdy had been last in the capital, and next morning, on stepping out of the “Adam and Eve,” they walked up the eastern slope to look about them. From the summit of the hill their view stretched to the waters of the Bay, and its forest of masts. The nearer foreground was made up of mud flats, through which a sluggish, coffee-coloured river wound its way to the sea. On the horizon to the north, the Dandenong Ranges rose storm-blue and distinct, and seemed momently to be drawing nearer; for a cold wind was blowing, which promised rain. The friends caught their glimpses of the landscape between dense clouds of white dust, which blotted everything out for minutes at a time, and filled eyes, nose, ears with a gritty powder.

Tiring of this they turned and descended Great Collins Street–a spacious thoroughfare that dipped into the hollow and rose again, and was so long that on its western height pedestrians looked no bigger than ants. In the heart of the city men were everywhere at work, laying gas and drain-pipes, macadamising, paving, kerbing: no longer would the old wives’ tale be credited of the infant drowned in the deeps of Swanston Street, or of the bullock which sank, inch by inch, before its owner’s eyes in the Elizabeth Street bog. Massive erections of freestone were going up alongside here a primitive, canvas-fronted dwelling, there one formed wholly of galvanised iron. Fashionable shops, two storeys high, stood next tiny, dilapidated weatherboards. In the roadway, handsome chaises, landaus, four-in-hands made room for bullock-teams, eight and ten strong; for tumbrils carrying water or refuse–or worse; for droves of cattle, mobs of wild colts bound for auction, flocks of sheep on their way to be boiled down for tallow. Stock-riders and bull-punchers rubbed shoulders with elegants in skirted coats and shepherd’s plaid trousers, who adroitly skipped heaps of stones and mortar, or crept along the narrow edging of kerb.

 

Lonsdale Street, Melbourne, 18411

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The Aeneid

Ch 1, Lines 430ff (approx), translated by David West, Penguin, p17

[On the Phoenicians, Tyrians, Dido the Sidonian, building Carthage:]

…Venus hedged them [Aeneas and Achates] about with a thick mist as they walked. The goddess spread a great veil of cloud over them so that no one could see them or touch them or cause any delay or ask the reason for their coming….

Meanwhile Aeneas and Achates hurried on their way, following the track, and they were soon climbing the great hill which towered over the city and looked down upon the Citadel opposite. Aneas was amazed by the size of it where recently there had been nothing but Shepherd’s huts, amazed too by the gates, the paved streets and all the stir. The Tyrians were working with a will: some of them were laying out the line of walls or rolling up the great stones for building the citadel; others were choosing sites for building and marking them out with the plough; others were drawing up laws and electing magistrates and a senate whom they could revere; on one side they were excavating a harbour; on the other laying deep foundations for a theatre and quarrying huge columns from the rock to make a handsome backdrop for the stage that was to be. They were like bees at the beginning of summer, busy in the sunshine all through the flowery meadows, bringing out the young of the race, just come of age, or treading the oozing honey and swelling the cells with sweet nectar, or taking the loads as they come in or mounting guard to keep the herds of idle drones out of their farmstead. The hive seethes with activity and the fragrance of honey flavoured with thyme is everywhere. ‘How fortunate they are! cried Aeneas, now looking up at the high tops of the buildings. ‘Their walls are already rising!’ and he moved on through the middle of the people, hedged about by the miraculous cloud, and no one saw him.

There was a wooded Grove which gave abundant shade in the middle of the city. When first the Phoenicians had been driven mad by wind and wave, Juno, the Queen of the Gods, had led them to this spot where they had dug up the head of a spirited stallion. This was a sign that from generation to generation they would be a race glorious in war and would have no difficulty in finding fields to graze.

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The miraculous cloud becomes a gritty powder.

Bees become ants.

The spirited stallion becomes the sinking bullock.

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Note the oxen as a symbol of labour at p 39, Book 2, line 307, Aeneid.

Carlyle is quoted in Jenks, Thomas Carlyle and John Stuart Mill at page 203 ‘the genius of the new age will not be glory, beauty, or knowledge, but work’. Carlyle lamented the loss of glory in the new utilitarian age, and argued for the return of the hero. The change from the culture of honour, seen to emerge from Stoicism, to a culture of pleasure (achieved through the rewards of work, and if you are lucky, work itself, I guess), seen to emerge from utilitarianism, beginning around the turn of the 19th century, has been documented by some philosophers.

According to http://www.wsu.edu/~dee/ENLIGHT/PHIL.HTM, the benefit of work was the moral of Candide, Voltaire.

And, incidentally, see what happened to poor old Dido after Aeneas left Carthage to find a spot for his new city, which became Rome. This, at least is Dido’s fate according to that reporter of ancient affairs, Purcell. Very, very beautiful. Thanks to Lysende for this link. Again, entirely incidentally, the phrase ‘remember me’ reminds me of a Brian Eno song ‘Some of them are old‘.

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It seems to me that Richardson is having some fun here with the Aeneid, drawing the distinction between Virgil’s description of the foundation of the warrior culture of Carthage in the classical era, with the foundation of the Australian work culture in the utilitarian era. The first is inspired by the spirited stallion, the second is symbolised by the sinking bullock. The Fortunes of Richard Mahony traces the decline of Mahoney as he fails to adjust to Australian life.

A cute aside is that an author I read some years ago, and whose name and book I will try to chase up, noted that the Batman treaty equals ‘the nearest modern representative of the bull’s hide wherewith Dido encompassed the site of Carthage.’ In West’s translation of Virgil, page 15, or around line 370 in Book I, the Aeneid reads:

When they [Dido and her followers] arrived at the place [in Libya] where you will now see the great walls and rising citadel of the new city of Carthage, they bought a piece of land called the “Byrsa”, the animal’s hide, as large an area as they could include within the hide of a bull.

Another cute aside is that it seems that in the earliest days of human religious iconography the roles of the cattle the horse were somewhat different. From http://www.telesterion.com/catal2.htm

Mellaart, W.I. Thompson, Marija Gimbutas, and others have connected the animal art in Lascaux with the animal art of Catal Huyuk (hundreds of representations of bulls, rams, leopards, vultures, and other animals). The horse as a sign for the female Goddess in Lascaux has been replaced by Her anthropomorphic plaster sculpture, the central icon found in most of Catal Huyuk’s temples. But the bison is still completely present as a non-anthropomorphic symbol of perfect male virility and energy, although, in keeping with non-ice-age Anatolia, the extinct bison has been replaced in Catal Huyuk by the aurochs bull (a massive scythe-horned beast and an ancestor of modem cattle, which was hunted in huge herds on the Konya plain).

But note this is speculative. Continuing in this speculative line, a wonderful read is The Time Falling Bodies Take To Light by W.I. Thompson (mentioned in the text above).

For more on the Çatalhöyük archaeological dig (not at all speculative!), in Turkey, see www.catalhoyuk.com

Should there be any doubt about the veracity of Richardson’s characterization of Melbourne as a city of bustle – that it is just a literary conceit – the following quote might allay the concern. It is from Nettie Palmer’s biography, Henry Bourne Higgins – A Memoir, published in 1931:

[On the ship they wondered:] What kind of life would they find, or make for themselves, in this new country, this Australia Felix? Was it the El dorado some people had painted it, a place where the sun shone in winter and all had an equal chance of prospering, or did it, like the world they had left behind, yield its treasures only to a few?2

The newcomers were struck by the great bustle and activity, even by the speed of the horse-vehicles.

‘Everything seems on the move,’ the young man was to write home next day to his father, who was still in Ireland. ‘It is all very different from the staid gentility and begging poverty of Dublin.’3

Henry Bourne Higgins, lawyer, colonial Victorian parliamentarian, attendee of the Australasian Federal Convention of 1897-8, federal parliamentarian, High Court Judge and president of the Commonwealth Court of Conciliation and Arbitration.

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ANZACS?

Well, its not just the allusion to work at work here. Note also the (imperfect) connection that it was from Troy that Aeneas (himself Trojan) was travelling when he came upon the Phoenicians at Carthage. Troy is a little south west of the Dardanelles (named for Dardanus, who founded Troy), where the Australian troops made their name in battle. The association is not direct, because the association between the newly settling Carthaginians and Troy is only achieved via Aeneas, who of course, remained unseduced by Dido.

I am told that the letters of the officers at Gallipoli show that they were well aware they were fighting on (or near, anyway) the battlefield of Achilles.

Richardson published her book in 1917, during World War One, after the Gallipoli campaign.

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    1. A parchment was placed in a cavity behind the foundation stone (1841) stating: Ecclesiae Sancto Francisco dicatae Lapidem primarium. Patritius Bonaventure Geoghegan Presbyter Hibernus O.S.F., primus, Qui in Australia Felici Sacrum fecit, posuit Die IV, Octobris, anno Reparatae Salutis MDCCCXLI Gregorio XVI., Pontifice Maximo, Joanne Beda Polding,Episcopo, Ecclesiae Australasiae Vicario-Apostolico Victoria, felocissime Regnante, George Gipps, Equite,Vicem Regiam gerente Carolo Josepho LaTrobe, Privinciae Praefecto, Samuel Jackson, Architecto. Patrick Bonaventure Geoghegan An Irish Priest, O.S.F., the first who offered the sacrifice in Australia Felix Laid the foundation-stone of St Francis’ Church on 4 October 1841 In the Pontificate of His Holiness Pope Gregory XVI., John Bede Polding, Bishop , being the Vicar Apostolic of the Church in Australasia In the happy reign of Queen Victoria. Sir George Gipps, Governor of the Province, Charles Joseph LaTrobe, Superintendent of the Province, Samuel Jackson, Architect. []
    2. Palmer, Nettie. Henry Bourne Higgins – A Memoir, George G Harrap & Co, Sydney, 1931, p1 []
    3. Palmer, Nettie. Henry Bourne Higgins, p3 []

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Having just posted the transcriptions of Ch. 4 of Richard Mills‘ book The Colonization of Australia, published in 1915, perhaps a little supplementary information is required.

Firstly, an explanation is required as to why Wakefield would consider it best to sell land rather than grant it. After all, free land is accessible to all. Wakefield’s ideas did not arise from some perverse desire to deny land to the poor. Instead, charging for land would mean that the market would ensure that only land that would be productive would be taken up, and it would only be taken up in sizes that could be readily used to produce an income. He wanted the price of land fixed at a level that would require people arriving without money in a colony to work for around three years before they could afford to buy their own land. By working to save for land, these people would make their labour available to existing landholders. In their turn, these people would employ labour when they bought their own land.

Land that is available too cheap promotes slavery. Wakefield states:

Combination of labour to any extent never takes place except by two means, either by means of slavery when it is compulsory, or by means of hire. I know not of any other means by which labour is ever combined. In order to have free labour so combined, there must a class of persons in the society ready to let their labour to hire. That class of persons never existed where land is very cheap, and never have existed. In countries where land is very cheap, the substitute for hired labour is slavery.((Report from the Select Committee of The Disposal of Lands in the British Colonies together with the Minutes of Evidence and Appendix, 1836, p56))

And

I believe the wages of labour would be higher in the colony in which the price of land was higher, provided that, in that colony, the price of land were not more than sufficient. Beyond a sufficient price, every farthing of price would tend to lower wages; below a sufficient price, every diminution would also tend to lower wages.1

For Wakefield the aim was to hit the golden mean of land price where wages were highest. This would produce for the owner the highest return, and for the worker the highest wage.

Wakefield was responding to problems in colonization that he read about, including in Robert Gourlay’s Statistical Account of Upper Canada. Gourlay described a population scattered thinly over the landscape, gradually declining into a kind of barbarism, because of isolation. Each person had to be an expert in everything, children received little education, markets were distant. Massive investment was lost in the wilderness.

Similarly at Swan Bay, in Australia, the 1829 attempt at settlement had there resulted in failure, because large land grants were under-capitalized, and because labour was scarce. The colony only took off in 1849 with the arrival of convict labour. But to Wakefield and utilitarians this form of compelled labour was highly undesirable. Utilitarians were implacably opposed to slavery and saw convict labour as too closely resembling slavery as to be conscionable. As well, they were not keen on the cultural effects of a large convict presence. So it was that South Australia, founded by utilitarians in 1836, never relied upon convict labour.

The Swan Bay project was wholly repugnant for another reason too, as is recorded by HS Chapman in a pamphlet edited by John Roebuck MP in 1835:

Some years ago a set of persevering men proposed to establish a New Colony at Spencer’s Gulph, in South Australia, on a new, and up to that time, unheard of principle. They proposed to plant a colony, without entailing on single shilling of expense upon the Government and people of this country; and all they asked of Government was to permit them so to do.

A few years before they made this fair proposal, a couple of Sir Robert Peel’s nephews or cousins had obtained the gift of immense tracts of land in another, and not very distant part of the same continent. Moreover, to maintain these two young gentlemen in the possession of their lands, and to render those lands more valuable to them, a regular Colonial Establishment was kept up, expensive to this country; and, if it be at all like other Colonial establishments, vexatious to the people of the colony.

Reflecting on this expensive system of jobbing, the “Colonization Society” – for that is the name which the associated individuals to whom I have alluded assumed – very naturally imagined that their proposal would be embraced with avidity by Government.

 

Patronage, combined with expense to the people from its cost, was also repugnant to the utilitarians.

The push for renewed colonial activity in Australia came from the application of the new science of political economy, ie. economics. Thus B Semmel writes: 2

[Wakefield’s] general theory became a part of a programme of the leading philosophic Radicals. The first to be converted by Wakefield was Jeremy Bentham himself. The view long associated with Bentham, and the Ricardians generally, was that it was the quantity of capital rather than the extent of the market which determined the size of the trade in which a nation could engage; this view held colonies to be a drain upon the capital of the mother country. Wakefield, quite early, set out to convince Bentham that this view was erroneous – sending his early anonymous writings to the old man while [Wakefield was (!)] still in Newgate prison – and he succeeded, at last, in overcoming Bentham’s economic objections. Writing in 1833, Wakefield was delighted to report that, in the summer of 1831, Bentham had finally become persuaded that colonization was ‘a work of the greatest utility’, and that Bentham had agreed to frame a charter for a society whose purpose it would be to settle parts of Australia upon the lines set by the programme of ’systematic colonization’. The Bentham manuscripts at University College, London, include such a charter, drafted in Bentham’s uniquely cumbersome style and followed by a general unfolding of the scheme dedicated to ‘transferring individuals in an unlimited multitude from a state of indigence to a state of affluence’. Characteristic of Bentham was the setting down of the most detailed rules of settlement; he went so far as to specify exercises for prospective settlers during the long voyage to Australia!

These notes of Bentham’s are the first in existence that began the long paper trail to the foundation of South Australia.

According to Donald Winch, in Shaw’s book (above), Wakefield’s economics were a rebuttal to the propositions of Ricardian economics, and (at pp 99-100):

‘[I]n making his criticisms of Ricardianism Wakefield claimed to find support in Adam Smith for his view of the relationship of capital accumulation, profit decline, and stagnation…. [Smith’s] interpretation of the decline of profits in terms of ‘competition of capitals’, as a simple demand and supply phenomenon, allowed for the possibility of ‘excess’ capital accumulation in relation to investment opportunities. Ricardo recognized this loophole and went to some lengths to close it.

Wakefield was not alone in his appeal to Smith’s authority; other critics of Ricardo, like Malthus, did the same. and by the 1840s there were others who were sympathetic to Wakefield’s revival of Smith’s theory of profits. [Merivale] acknowledged the formal correctness of Ricardo’s model but considered that ‘under the actual circumstances of society’ Smith’s idea of ‘competition of capitals’ had much to commend it.

However I am not sure whether Wakefield’s observation, recorded earlier in this post re cheap land promoting slavery, is not an application of the Ricardian law of rent. At first sight it sure looks like it. I would be interested if anyone can point me in the direction of somewhere where this is discussed.

So it was that the post convict era of Australian colonization was governed by the application of economic theory.

Below I discuss a little more about how Wakefield is presented (or not) in popular Australian histories:

The American Revolution gave impetus to new notions of colonization which emphasized eventual independence, and which rested upon foundations being laid by the new science of economics. Wakefield was one of these new economists. It is argued that his ideas created the new British colonial empire.3 If they did, Australia was the first experiment, and Melbourne the first new settlement created under the influence of the ideas.4 But the ideas had long roots, stretching through Jeremy Bentham’s and James Mill’s thinking to Adam Smith, and through him to Hugo Grotius and Samuel Pufendorf, where they reconnect with mainstream natural law doctrine. Australia may have emerged in a new era, but that era was carried on the tide of ancient forms of thought. And European Australia was awash with European thinking. Until recently, Australian historians have tended to overlook this ancient tide.

For example, in A History of Australia, Manning Clark only touches upon the connections between European philosophy and the creation of Australia. Clark’s chapter ‘Sons of the Enlightenment’ really has little to say about the Enlightenment itself, but details Cook’s ventures in the South Seas. Clark gives us the Earth ceasing to be the centre of the universe, God losing his pedestal, and relief from damnation. What emerges in place of these structures is a Christianity that has social utility, as evidenced by the success of Protestant Holland.5 But rationalism is nowhere in sight in Clark’s version of Enlightenment. Nor the great visions of utopia that occupied the dreams of many. Rather, trade and Christianity are the sources of higher civilization.6 At page 109, we are given a half page about the values of the Enlightenment, where it is characterized as one of two civilizing ‘enthusiasms’, the other being Christianity. Clark at this point also cites ‘common sense’ as an additional civilizing force, and, in describing the common sense of the age, he does include some Enlightenment values, such as benevolence, progress, removal of superstition, science, liberalism and commerce. But the topic is barely pursued. We are relieved of it by page 110. Instead Clark appears to be more at home with what people did rather than how they thought. What binding there is between the series of acts of Clark’s subjects is found in their character, rather than in the philosophies of the age. Thus Clark’s project of describing the coming of civilization to Australia7 is really the tale of a series of acts, acts which, from time to time (particularly where extreme), illustrate the character of the participants.8 Clark is gracious towards those who have picked him up on his failure to properly ground the actions of his players in their time. He admits to being ‘weak on backdrop’ and too concerned with character.9 This omission is sad because, in a sense, Clark’s History ends up missing out on the very thing he aims to achieve. By omitting ‘backdrop’10 he forgets to give us civilization itself.

Consistent with this approach Clark omits the influence of Wakefield’s theories in telling of the introduction of Ripon’s rules 11 and waits to introduce Wakefield in connection with the establishment of the South Australian Association. At this point he gives a good history of Wakefield’s practical ideas, and Wakefield’s importance in the development of the British Empire, but does not ground the ideas in any coherent philosophical structure.12 Gourlay is overlooked.

In A Land Half Won, Geoffrey Blainey fails to mention Wakefield at all, let alone Gourlay, despite Wakefield’s centrality to the colonizing process. Bloomfield is moved to describe Wakefield as ‘the founder of an Empire and builder of the Commonwealth.’ 13 Wakefield’s ideas were absolutely central to the establishment of South Australia. They provided to policy makers an explanation for the failure of the initial Swan River settlement, 14 and were of great importance to the path of early development in Melbourne, and New South Wales as a whole. Blainey’s description of land policy, and policy for the growth of a viable economy, appears to be summed up without further elaboration in his observation ‘The old recipe for rabbit pie says “First catch your rabbit”. The traditional recipe for economic progress is, first, control the land.’ 15 And to ensure Australians are not swayed into thinking that anything of much depth beyond the arbitrary acts of a few uninterested bureaucrats linked the colony with the rest of the world, Blainey tells us that ‘Many decisions which shaped politics and society of today were made quickly on the banks of the Thames by a few politicians and civil servants. They largely made the political map of Australia.’ 16 The ensuing discussion commences from events in 1846.

Robert Hughes’ The Fatal Shore is much more connected with the forces of the day, but there is still much lost. While his chapters devoted to events preceding settlement revolve around the conditions that produced a convict system of transportation, and the development of sailing and knowledge of the globe, he does constantly create links between the major thinking of the age and events in Australia. Thus, in relation to the land policy of the 1830s, he has Sir William Molesworth, who was commissioned to chair an inquiry into the efficacy of transportation in 1837, as a ‘“Philosophical Radical,” a follower of Bentham and Hobbes (whose collected works he would turn to editing in 1839), and a staunch Abolitionist….’ 17 ‘The committee,’ he suggests, ‘was out to portray Australia as a colony plagued by a rising crime rate and crippled by its dependence on criminal slavery. It wanted to set the stage for a policy of controlled emigration set forth by Molesworth’s intellectual mentor, Edward Gibbon Wakefield, whereby Crown lands in Australia would be sold to well screened young emigrants at a ‘sufficient’ or high price so that mere ex-convict labourers could not easily acquire land they could not use.’18 However Hughes gives us an inaccurate rendering of Wakefield’s intentions, which was not to exclude anyone from the land but to delay uptake of land. Hughes fails to discuss the ultimate purpose of Wakefield’s ideas, instead implying that they are designed with the express purpose of excluding convicts, and privileging ‘well-screened young emigrants’. Hughes also omits the depth with which the ideas were grounded in previous colonial experience, particularly in the Americas, leaving them somehow emerging from the ether in their conception by the intellectual Wakefield. Further, in Hughes’ rendering, Wakefield wanders briefly onto the scene in 1838. But this was seven years after his ideas began taking effect, and four years after the passing of the South Australia Act. Thus, ‘the founder of an Empire’ becomes a mere extra in the grand narrative.

From Shaw’s The History of the Port Phillip District19 one might be forgiven for thinking a scheme for increased emigration was Bourke’s idea. Wakefield does not get a mention, nor do Ripon’s rules.20 There can be no doubt that Shaw was fully aware of Wakefield’s contribution to colonial policy. Shaw edited the book Great Britain and the Colonies 1815-1865, Debates in Economic History which provides a thorough examination of Wakefield’s economic theories and colonial policy by ten authors, including Donald Winch.21 But these are highly specialized essays for the economic historian. This omission in his popular history perhaps says more about Shaw’s view of the expectations of his readership than his understanding of Wakefield’s system and its centrality to land policy during the 1830s.

This culling of ideas from histories, leaving us with characters, rabbit pie and well-screened young emigrants suggests that ideas, at least in general Australian histories, are dangerous if they do not somehow emerge sui generis from within these shores, preferably forged and purified by some democratic and egalitarian process. Perhaps it has been the aim of historians to attempt to find a unique Australian place in the world, and to emphasise that which sets Australia apart. But there seems to me to be more to connect us with the world than there is to set us apart, and to ignore this is not to understand Australia, but to create a paper mask, with no substance.22

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1. Report from the Select Committee of The Disposal of Lands in the British Colonies together with the Minutes of Evidence and Appendix, 1836, p87, para 844 []

2. in AGL Shaw (ed), Great Britain and the Colonies – 1815-1865 []

3. See generally Bloomfield, Edward Gibbon Wakefield : Builder of the British Commonwealth., particularly chapter 12, ‘The Durham Report’, and Norman, Edward Gibbon Wakefield – a Political Reappraisal. 6-17. Note however, this does not mean that Wakefield’s ideas were adopted without modification. Norman argues that to have done so would have been disastrous. However Wakefield set the direction which others modified according to contingencies. Norman, Edward Gibbon Wakefield – a Political Reappraisal []

4. Swanston arrived in Melbourne on 28 September 1836, while official settlement in South Australia (formed on Wakefield’s principles) began on 28 December 1836. []

5. C.M.H. Clark, A History of Australia, Volume 1, from the Earliest Times to the Age of Macquarie (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1962). 42 []

6. Ibid. 43 []

7. See for example Clark, A History of Australia, Vol 1., 3 []

8. See again for example Clark, A History of Australia, Vol 1., 271 where Macquarie is outraged by Marsden’s refusal of the appointment as trustee of the turnpike road. []

9. C.M.H. Clark, in Making History (Melbourne: McPhee Gribble, 1985). 65 []

10. Ibid. 65 []

11. C.M.H Clark, A History of Australia, Volume 2, New South Wales and Van Diemen’s Land 1822-1838 (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1968). 104-5. Clark does not make the connection between Wakefield’s ideas and Ripon’s rules when he introduces the South Australian company in Volume 3. See C.M.H Clark, A History of Australia, Volume 3, the Beginning of an Australian Civilization, 1824-1851 (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1973). 42-45. []

12. Clark, A History of Australia, Volume 3, the Beginning of an Australian Civilization, 1824-1851. 42-45 []

13. Bloomfield, Edward Gibbon Wakefield : Builder of the British Commonwealth. ix, and see also 103-4. At a minimum it is fair to use Reynolds phrase to describe Wakefield: ‘the spiritual father of the colony [of South Australia]’ Reynolds, Law of the Land. 143. See also John Norman, ‘it is not too much to say that Edward Gibbon Wakefield was one of the truly great founders of the new British Empire.’Norman, Edward Gibbon Wakefield – a Political Reappraisal. 18 []

14. Begun in 1829, and a failure by 1831 []

15. Geoffrey Blainey, A Land Half Won (Melbourne: Sun Books, 1980). 93 Blainey is here referring to the dispossession of Aborigines in his chapter ‘War on the Grasslands’. []

16. Ibid. 190 []

17. Robert Hughes, The Fatal Shore – the Epic of Australia’s Founding (New York: Alfred A. Knopf Ltd, 1986). 493-4 []

18. Ibid []

19. AGL Shaw, The History of the Port Phillip District (Melbourne: Miegunyag Press, 1996) []

20. Ibid. 144 []

21. AGL Shaw, ed., Great Britain and the Colonies 1815-1865, Debates in Economic History (London: Methuen & Co Ltd, 1970) []

22. [Footnote added 6-1-05:] It is worth noting that in 1915 Richard Mills in his book The Colonization of Australia – The Wakefield Experiment in Empire Building, states that this history, then too, was generally overlooked. It is interesting to speculate what it may be that causes Australians to so readily omit this part of their history. Mills gives full details of Wakefield’s ideas, their origins and associations. Mills’ book was reprinted during the 1980s as a facsimile edition. Even so his history does not seem to have made an impact on historical discourse. []

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