In the essay “On Classical Political
Philosophy?” Leo Strauss distinguished between the definite activities of the
political philosopher, the legislator, and the statesman, in the following way.
“Political science” as the skill of the excellent politician
or statesman consists in the right handling of individual situations; its
immediate “products” are commands or decrees or advices effectively expressed,
which are intended to cope with the individual case. Political life knows, however, a still higher
kind of political understanding, which is concerned not with individual cases
but, as regards each relevant subject, with all cases, and whose immediate “products”‑laws
and institutions‑are meant to be permanent...
Every legislator is primarily concerned with the individual
community for which he legislates, but he has to raise certain questions which
regard all legislation. These most
fundamental and most universal political questions are naturally fit to be made
the subject of the most “architectonic,” the truly “architectonic” political
knowledge: of that political science which is the goal of the political
philosopher.
I still remember the wonder with
which I first encountered this progression from the immediate, to the long
term, to the universal. It came to mind
when I read the following conclusion to Larry Arnhart’s essay: “The Grandeur of
Biopolitical Science.”
Biopolitical
science would thus explain politics as the joint product of natural
propensities, cultural traditions, and individual judgments. The natural
propensities as shaped in the genetic evolution of political animals constrain
but do not determine the cultural traditions of politics. These natural
propensities and cultural traditions constrain but do not determine the
practical judgments of political actors about what should be done in particular
cases, as in Lincoln’s decision about the Emancipation
Proclamation.
To explain this complex interaction of nature, culture, and
judgment, biopolitical science would draw knowledge from all fields of
traditional political science and from intellectual disciplines across the
natural sciences, the social sciences, and the humanities.
There is grandeur in this view of political life, as
originating through the laws of nature for the emergence of irreducibly complex
wholes from the cooperation of simple parts, so that, from ants and bees to
chimps and humans, endless forms of political order most beautiful and most
wonderful have been, and are being, evolved.
The emphasis is mine. This essay comes from the June 2013 issue of Perspectives on Politics. It is one of a series of responses to John R.
Hibbing’s article: “Ten Misconceptions Concerning Neurobiology and Politics.”
The emphasized words constitute one
of the most concise and powerful arguments for biopolitical science and, one
may go farther here, biopolitical philosophy.
This is evident in the comparison between Strauss’s political
philosophy, legislation and statesmanship, and Arnhart’s “natural propensities,
cultural traditions, and individual judgments.”
The objects of political philosophy are the political things in the
broadest possible sense: those that do not change or change the least with
place and time. Culture traditions are
the products of more or less conscious legislation, as the Greek word nomoi indicates. Finally, statesmanship is only a special case
of individual action, which every citizen necessary participates in.
The point in Arnhart’s statement
is that while nature constrains both culture and individual action, it leaves
open a space within which both communities and individuals are able to move,
innovate, and make deliberate choices.
That addresses one of the most common objections to biopolitical
science: that it amounts to determinism.
I would add three points here. One is that nature constrains culture and
individual action in two ways. One is
that it limits what is possible. Someone
who believes that she can survive without consuming physical nutrients is
mistaken, and no amount of faith or spiritual awareness will supply this
limitation.
Another way that nature
constrains the human action is that it limits what is desirable. It is possible
for a person to live the solitary life of a hermit, since hermits occasionally
do it; however, human beings being social animals, such a life will never be
desirable for most of us.
The second point is that nature
constrains individuals in two ways that can, for some purposes, be
distinguished. Human beings are mammals
and mammalian nature is a broad universal.
Individual human beings are also individuals and individuals vary not
only by environment but also by biological inheritance. John Hibbing’s work presents powerful
evidence for the inheritance of a wide range of character traits that were, not
long ago, assumed to be entirely acquired.
My last point is that causation works both ways. Christopher Boehm argues (Cross-Cultural
Research, November 2008, 319-352) that
Purposive social selection at the level of phenotype can have
parallel effects at the level of the genotype, and that social control has
shaped human genetic nature profoundly.
In other words, human cultures,
operating within that free space that our natural propensities allow, can bring selection
pressure to bear that is sufficient to change those natural propensities. Boehm begins by reference to the fact that
Serbian mountain pastoralists are the tallest “Caucasians” in the world. He argues that this is in part because of a
cultural preference for taller women.
This example, if it holds up, suggests that more or less conscious
social selection (the Serbs presumably didn’t know they were breeding for
stature) can act relatively quickly.
Boehm’s central target is the
evolution of human morality. He thinks
that our capacity for altruism and (my terms) our pallet of moral emotions are
the result of selection pressure that originated in the free action of
individuals, living in small groups, and over time acting more and more
collectively. I think he is right.