The last essays of Russell’s (1954) Human Society In Ethics And Politics (hereafter: Human Society) are shaped by the possibility of imminent human extinction. I put it like that because Russell had already regularly contemplated eventual human extinction as early as (1903) in his “The Free Man’s Worship:” “that all the labours of the ages, all the devotion, all the inspiration, all the noonday brightness of human genius, are destined to extinction in the vast death of the solar system.”
In “Scientific Technique And the Future,” Russell lists a number of ways in which modern science has prepared the means for such imminent “mutual extermination:” “radioactive clouds” and “bacteriological warfare” are treated as spectacular ways of doing so. While “poisoning” of the “soil” is offered as a “less spectacular” means of producing disaster. With the rise of science, and in fact, “every increase of .skill demands, if it is to produce an increase and not a diminution of human happiness, a correlative increase of wisdom.” (p. 211; ‘wisdom’ is one of Russell’s favorite words in the collection of essays.)
What he means by wisdom is not entirely obvious. One way in which Russell treats the absence of wisdom is by noting that “The maxims of statecraft are still those that were in vogue in the eighteenth century. The slogans by which men win elections are just as foolish as they used to be.” (211-212)
Unfortunately, Russell’s own views do not seem to exhibit much more practical wisdom. For example, Russell’s proposed solution to ward off such extinction does not seem to match the gravity of the problem he has diagnosed:
If men are to escape from the consequences of their own childish cleverness, they will have to learn, in all the powerful countries of the world, or at any rate in America and Russia, to think, not of separate groups of men, but of man. Never before has man as man been in danger, never before have the rivalries of different groups threatened universal extinction. It has become an anachronism to think of politics in terms of possible victory. If the human race is to persist, this truth will have to be acknowledged and acted upon, not only by the Western Powers, but also by those which are now dominated by the antiquated nineteenth century philosophy derived from Marx. Such a hope may at the moment seem visionary, but I do not feel convinced that even Communist rulers will persist indefinitely in a policy if it becomes entirely evident that they cannot in this way achieve the world dominion to which their missionary zeal, as well as their love of power, impels them.—p. 211*
It’s fair to say that the last quoted sentence has turned out to be true prophecy. But it’s also fair to claim that the politics of victory was not abolished and learning “to think, not of separate groups of men, but of man” was irrelevant to preventing universal extinction during the cold war. If anything, the policy known as MAD (mutually assured destruction) — first thought through in the late nineteenth century — turned out to be more wise than thinking of abstract MAN.
As an aside, in a terrific, even disturbing article “Russell’s contribution to the study of nuclear weapons policy,” Douglas P. Lackey anticipates this very point by pointing how sophisticated Russell had been in diagnosing the problems with the initial (American) policy of brinkmanship. (It’s disturbing because it turns out that Russell was an advocate of pre-emptive nuclear bombing to impose world confederation.)
Somewhat oddly, in “Scientific Technique And the Future,” Russell does not explore the more obvious implications of his own argument: the abolition of science or, short of that, the abolition of weapons of mass destruction. (The essay was written around 1953.) Shortly thereafter, however, Russell became one of the first prominent intellectuals to call for disarmament, which (arguably) led to the regime of arms control in the final phase of the cold war.
The alternative route that tempted Russell he also developed in the early 1950s: a world government (see, especially chapter VII, of The Impact of Science on Science, which he quotes in his chapter “Steps Towards a Stable Peace” of Human Society. (This essay also confronts possibility of imminent extinction.) He views world government as necessary to create a stable society in a scientific age. It’s not sufficient because it would also require general prosperity, stationary population, and individual liberty in “work and play.”
But how to get from here to there? How does Russell propose to solve what one might call the ‘first step of the transition problem.’ Russell places his faith in what he calls “neutral Powers,” and the Government of India, in particular. Its task is to
appoint a Commission, consisting solely of Indians, who should be eminent politicians, economists, scientists or military men, the purpose of the Commission being to investigate in a wholly neutral spirit the evils to be expected if the cold war became hot, evils not by any means confined to the belligerents but afflicting neutrals also, though probably in a lesser degree. I should wish the Government of India to present this report to the Governments of all the Great Powers, and to invite them to express either agreement or disagreement with its forecasts. I think that, if the work of the Commission were adequately performed, disagreement would be very difficult. It might in this way become possible to persuade Governments on both sides that neither side could hope to gain by aggression.—p. 231
There is something touching about the leading intellectual of the former colonizing empire putting so much faith in the efficacy of the previously colonized. What’s especially peculiar about this is that the intended Commission’s report will not state anything previously unknown to the governments of Nuclear powers. (In fact, will probably draw on declassified work commissioned by them.)
Russell continues, “once it were agreed and acknowledged on both sides that war is not the solution, negotiations would soon become possible and the tension would rapidly grow less.” (231) Lurking here is an almost mystical hope in the power of impartial rationality to induce if not compel not just assent but changed behavior. Of course, in Russell’s position we find the disintegrating shades of the faith placed in (elite) public opinion by nineteenth century radical-liberalism (of which he is, of course, himself the final flowering).
Regular readers will undoubtedly recognize the faint hint of satire that has infected this Digression. (Russell himself meditates seriously on Swift’s Gulliver—about which some other time more.) I regret that odor because there is so much to admire in Russell’s passionate and disinterested humanity. It is little consolation that our philosophy is no better than Russell’s when confronting existential risk.
*The edition that is available online has p. 213.
I learned of and read Feyerabend from
Lakatose who I read in my search to understand why and how experimental economics became a subfield although initially it was not considered to be economics. The reason had nothing to do with proper procedure but in changing how people thought. My favorite philosopher of science was Lakatose, Deborah Mayo, his critic, is my favorite living philosopher.