Idealization XIII: Modeling in History. (Poznan Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences & the Humanities)

IDEALIZATION XIII: MODELING IN HISTORY

POZNAŃ STUDIES IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE SCIENCES AND THE HUMANITIES VOLUME 97

EDITORS Leszek Nowak (founding editor) Jerzy Brzeziński Andrzej Klawiter Krzysztof Łastowski Izabella Nowakowa

Katarzyna Paprzycka (editor-in-chief) Piotr Przybysz Michael J. Shaffer Piotr Ziemian (assistant editor)

ADVISORY COMMITTEE Joseph Agassi (Tel-Aviv) Étienne Balibar (Paris) Wolfgang Balzer (München) Mario Bunge (Montreal) Nancy Cartwright (London) Robert S. Cohen (Boston) Francesco Coniglione (Catania) Andrzej Falkiewicz (Wrocław) Dagfinn Føllesdal (Oslo, Stanford) Jaakko Hintikka (Boston) Jacek J. Jadacki (Warszawa)

Jerzy Kmita (Poznań) Theo A.F. Kuipers (Groningen) Witold Marciszewski (Warszawa) Ilkka Niiniluoto (Helsinki) Günter Patzig (Göttingen) Jerzy Perzanowski (Kraków) Marian Przełęcki (Warszawa) Jan Such (Poznań) Max Urchs (Konstanz) Jan Woleński (Kraków) Ryszard Wójcicki (Warszawa)

Address: dr hab. Katarzyna Paprzycka . Department of Philosophy . University of Warsaw Krakowskie Przedmieście 3 . 00-927 Warszawa . Poland . fax ++48(0)22-826-5734 E-mail: [email protected]

POZNAŃ STUDIES IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE SCIENCES AND THE HUMANITIES, VOLUME 97

IDEALIZATION XIII: MODELING IN HISTORY

Edited by Krzysztof Brzechczyn

Amsterdam - New York, NY 2009

The paper on which this book is printed meets the requirements of "ISO 9706:1994, Information and documentation - Paper for documents Requirements for permanence". ISSN 0303-8157 ISBN: 978-90-420-2831-9 E-Book ISBN: 978-90-420-2832-6 ©Editions Rodopi B.V., Amsterdam - New York, NY 2009 Printed in The Netherlands

CONTENTS Krzysztof Brzechczyn, Between Science and Literature: The Debate on the Status of History. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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I. ONTOLOGY OF THE HISTORICAL PROCESS

Marceli Handelsman, Possibilities and Necessities of the Historical Process . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 Jerzy Topolski, The Activistic Concept of the Historical Process . . . . 43 Leszek Nowak, Class and Individual in the Historical Process . . . . . . 63 II. MODELING IN THE METHODOLOGY OF HISTORY

Jerzy Topolski, Idealizational Procedures in History . . . . . . . . . . . Tadeusz Pawłowski, Typological Concepts in Historical Sciences . . Jerzy Topolski, The Directive of Rationalizing Human Actions . . . . Krzysztof Brzechczyn, Methodological Peculiarities of History in light of Idealizational Theory of Science . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jerzy Topolski, The Model and Its Concretization in Economic History . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. 87 . 109 . 121 . 137 . 159

III. MODELING IN THE RESEARCH PRACTICE

Henryk Łowmiański, Why did the Polanian Tribe Unite the Polish State? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jerzy Topolski, Comments on Łowmiański . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jan Rutkowski, Theoretical Considerations on the Distribution of Incomes in a Feudal System . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jerzy Topolski, Comments on Rutkowski . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Krzysztof Brzechczyn, The Distinctiveness of Central Europe in light of the Cascadeness of the Historical Process. . . . . . . . . . Jerzy Topolski, The Economic Model of the Wielkopolska Region in the 18th Century . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bogusław Leśnodorski, There Was Not One Causa Efficiens of Poland’s Partitions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. 175 . 181 . 185 . 225 . 231 . 269 . 287

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Contents IV. ANALYTICAL PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY. POLISH CONTRIBUTIONS

Andrzej Malewski, Jerzy Topolski, The Nomothetic versus the Idiographic Approach to History . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Stefan Nowak, General Laws and Historical Generalizations in the Social Sciences . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Stanisław Ossowski, Two Conceptions of Historical Generalizations .......................................... Jan Such, Scientific Law versus Historical Generalization. An Attempt at an Explication . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Andrzej Malewski, Jerzy Topolski, On Causal Explanation in History . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. 299 . 311 . 327 . 337 . 351

Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 383

Krzysztof Brzechczyn BETWEEN SCIENCE AND LITERATURE: THE DEBATE ON THE STATUS OF HISTORY*

1. The Nature of the Debate Let us consider in detail two standpoints. According to the first one: general laws have quite analogous functions in history and in natural sciences, that they form an indispensable instrument of historical research, and that they even constitute the common basis of various procedures which are often considered as characteristic of the social in contradistinction to the natural sciences. . . . In history no less than in any other branch of empirical inquiry, scientific explanation can be achieved only by means of suitable general hypotheses, or by theories, which are bodies of systematically related hypotheses.1

Whereas the second standpoint maintains that the historical work is nothing else than: verbal fiction, the content of which are as much invented as found and the forms of which have more in common with their counterparts in literature than they have with those in the sciences. . . . History is no less a form of fiction than the novel is a form of historical representation. 2

The statements quoted above point to the variety of positions in the debate on the place of history in culture.3 According to the first, positivist approach, of which the most prominent representative is Carl G. Hempel, *

My work upon this article was possible thanks to the scholarship from The Kościuszko Foundation, which allowed me to spend the first half of 2000 at the University of Illinois in Chicago. 1 Hempel ([1942] 1965), pp. 231 and 239. 2 White (1978), pp. 82 and 122. In the whole volume emphases in italics, if they are not marked by a separate note put in brackets, come from the quoted authors [footnote by the editor]. 3 The opposition of positivism/narrativism certainly does not exhaust the plentitude of approaches which obtain in contemporary history of philosophy. I have chosen the two theoretical approaches as they represent extremes on the whole continuum of positions.

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 7-30. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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history is identical with the other domains of science, including the natural sciences. Therefore, it is possible to apply in history the same principles of scientific laws’ formulation, rules of explanation and confirmation of the acclaimed laws as in the natural sciences. The latter approach is a narrativist one. Its most representative figure is Hayden White, and it has been strengthened in recent years by the postmodernism. Under that approach, history is supposed to have more in common with literature than with science. 4 In consequence, the historian uses similar ways of constructing the plot, artistic means and rhetorical devices to those used by the writer. The differences between the above positions are best illustrated by presenting the views of the classic proponents of the two approaches, i.e., Hempel and White. In this paper, my intention is to answer two questions: what does explanation rely upon, and what is the relation of the historian's work (formulated law, narration) to the reality of the past. 1.1. The Positivist Approach to History According to positivism, a universal model of explanation used in science is supposed to be a deductive-nomological one. It consists of two parts: the explanandum, that is a statement describing a given phenomenon, which is to be explained (a statement, not a phenomenon) and of the explanans containing an explanatory statement. The explanans is composed of two parts: C1 , C2 , . . . , Ck – statements containing antecedent conditions, L1 , L2 , . . . , Lr – statements containing general laws. The procedure of explanation can be depicted in the following schema:5 C1 , C2 , . . . , Ck – statements containing antecedent conditions, L1 , L2 , . . . , L r – general laws, E – the description of the empirical phenomenon to be explained (explanandum). If the expounded model is to be adequate, it must fulfill certain logical and empirical conditions. The explanandum must be logically

4

White declares himself a structuralist (Domańska 1998, p. 27) yet his views are also included in the realm of new idealism (Mc Lennan 1981, p. 67), postmodernism (Himmelfarb 1999) and of course narrativism (e.g., Lorenz 1998; Murphey 1994, pp. 288-299). 5 Hempel ([1948] 1965), p. 249.

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inferred from the explanans. The explanans must contain a general law and at least one sentence, which is not a law, i.e., a sentence which characterizes antecedent conditions. Moreover, sentences which are parts of the explanans must be provided with empirical content so that they could be submitted to the test of experiment or observation. There is one condition in the empirical criterion of adequacy, namely that sentences which are part of the explanans must be true. 6 A law of science should have a universal form: it should neither contain proper names nor temporal-spatial determinants. All the elements of the deductive-nomological model should be verifiable. Sentences containing antecedent conditions and a law of science, on which the explanation relies, should be formulated in such a way as to be empirically testable. Moreover, the logical derivation of the explanandum from statements describing antecedent conditions and a general law is also testable.7 In Hempel’s opinion, the deductive-nomological model of explanation is applied both in history and in the natural sciences. Since explanations in history, as Hempel remarks, are hidden in historical narration, many historians deny the fact of resorting to general laws in their research practice. However, in historical narration are used such expressions as ‘hence’, ‘thus’, ‘since’, etc., which implicitly refer to certain general laws. These phrases bind antecedent conditions with the events subject to explanation. Moreover, as Hempel argues, general laws which appear in history refer to individuals or derive from social psychology. Since they are commonly known from everyday experience, they are tacitly assumed by historians. As Hempel remarks, rather than recalling completely formulated scientific laws, historian recall explanation sketches, which: consists of a more or less vague indication of the laws and initial conditions considered as relevant, and it needs “filling out” in order to turn into a fullfledged explanation. This filling-out requires further empirical research, for which the sketch suggests the direction. 8

In historical science, other ways of explaining are used which are uncommon in the remaining natural sciences. One of them is the explanation of subjects’ behavior endowed with consciousness. According to Hempel, however, explanatory strategy, which relies upon the reconstruction of human motives, views and outlooks upon life, also 6

Ibid., pp. 247-248. Hempel ([1942] 1965), p. 234. 8 Ibid., p. 238. 7

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comes within the deductive-nomological pattern of giving explanations. In this case, the explanation proceeds in accordance with the following schema: 9 A was in a situation of type C, A was a rational agent, Every rational person in a situation of the type C, will invariably (with a high degree of probability) perform X, A performed X. The assumption of the agent’s rationale in this model functions as reference to the general law of science: “Thus, in so far as reference to the rationale of an agent does explain his action, the explanation conforms to one of our nomological models.” 10 Under the positivist model of explanation, to explain a phenomenon means to derive the description of the phenomenon from the commonly accepted law of science and its antecedent conditions. In the positivist approach of science, the law of science arises by means of generalization, it is provided with empirical content and may be verified, i.e., refuted or confirmed. 1.2. The Narrativist Approach to History According to White, before starting research of a selected fragment of the past, the historian first creates the object of study and the ways of its conceptualizing in an act of prefiguration: In order to figure “what really happened” in the past, therefore, the historian must prefigure as a possible object of knowledge the whole set of events reported in the documents. This prefigurative act is poetic inasmuch as it is precognitive and precritical in the economy of the historian’s own consciousness. It is also poetic insofar as it is constitutive of the structure that will subsequently be imaged in the verbal model offered by the historian as a representation and explanation of “what really happened” in the past. But it is constitutive not only of a domain which the historian can treat as a possible object of (mental) perception. It is also constitutive of the concept he will use to identify the objects that inhabit that domain and to characterize the kinds of relationships they can sustain with one another. In the poetic act which precedes the formal analysis of the field, the historian both creates his object of analysis and predetermines the modality of the conceptual strategies he will use to explain it. 11

9

Hempel (1963), p. 155. Hempel (1962), p. 27. 11 White (1973), pp. 30-31. 10

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But the number of possible explanatory strategies is not infinite. There are, in fact, four principal types, which correspond to the four principal tropes of poetic language: metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche and irony. They provide a basis for identifying four basic structures of historical thinking. Furthermore, it is possible to distinguish five conceptualization levels of a historical work: chronicle (i), story (ii), the mode of emplotment (iii), the mode of argument (iv) and the level of ideological implication (v).12 The first two levels are the most primitive elements in the historian’s endeavor. In a chronicle, the process of selecting and arranging historical material is effected in the order of occurrence to make it comprehensible for the intended reader. In a story, facts from the chronicle are formed so that they have a clearly defined beginning, middle and end. Transforming the selected facts of the chronicle into a story leads to a number of questions that the historian must predict and be able to answer. These questions are of the kind: “What happened next?”, “How did that occur?”, “Why did things happen this way rather than that?”, “How did it all come out in the end?” and they determine the narrative strategy of the historian. They should be distinguished from questions of another kind: “What does it add up to?” or “What is the point of it all?”, which determine the structure of the entire set of events regarded as a completed story. They also decide the relationship between a given story and other story (stories) that might be “found,” “identified” or “uncovered” in the chronicle.13 Answers to these questions can be found through: the mode of emplotment (i), the mode of argument (ii) and the presentation of ideological implications. Following Northrop Frye, White identifies four different modes of emplotment: Romance, Tragedy, Comedy and Satire, which express archetypal attitudes of man in the face of the world. Romance, as White maintains, is a reflection of the triumph of good over evil, virtue over vice, light over darkness and of the final Liberation of man from the world in which he was imprisoned by the Fall. Satire proclaims a view on the human condition that is different from that presented by Romance. Satire as the mode of emplotment is the best at communicating the idea of man being a captive of the world rather than its master, and that as an ultimate result human consciousness and will are too weak to finally overcome the dark forces of death, for which man is an enemy. Comedy and Tragedy, in turn, admit the possibility of at least partial liberation

12 13

Ibid., p. 5. Ibid., p. 7.

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from the consequences of the Fall and overcoming the result of the division into natural and social worlds, in which man exists simultaneously. In Comedy the reconciliation of forces acting in the social and natural worlds are occasional; in culture, the reconciliation is symbolized by the festival. Tragedy, on the other hand, does not assume such possibilities: the reconciliation is the result of man’s resignation and coming to terms with his conditions of existence.14 Correspondingly to four modes of emplotment, White, drawing on Stephen C. Pepper’s work, distinguishes four modes of argumentation: Formist, Organicist, Mechanistic, and Contextualist.15 The Formist model of explanation relies on identifying of the unique properties of an investigated object. Such goal can be attained by the identifying special characteristics of the object under study and classifying them appropriately. In the Organicist model of explanation, particular objects are being attributed to greater entities, which are different from their parts. Similarly to the Organicist more, the Mechanistic mode of explanation adopts an integrative perspective. In contrast to the previous position it has inherent reductive tendencies, since the actors of the past are merely a manifestation of the governing regularities. The differences between the Organicist and Mechanistic models, White defines in greater detail using the example of the relation of both explanatory models to universal scientific laws. It is characteristic of the Organicist Strategy of explanation: “to eschew the search for the laws of historical process, when the term laws is construed in the sense of universal and invariant causal relationship, after the manner of Newtonian physics, Lavoisieran chemistry, or Darwinian biology.”16 By contrast, the Mechanistic mode of explanation: “turns upon the search for the causal law that determine the outcomes of the processes discovered in the historical field.”17 In the Contextualist mode of argumentation, the explanation depends upon placing the explained phenomenon in its social setting. White considers Walsh’s concept of colligation as being closest to that mode of argumentation. Correspondingly to the four types of argument, White follows Karl Mannheim in distinguishing four types of the ideological stance: Anarchism, Conservatism, Radicalism, and Liberalism.18 Each of these positions assumes a different attitude to the four modes of argumentation 14

Ibid., Ibid., 16 Ibid., 17 Ibid., 18 Ibid., 15

pp. 7-11. pp. 11-21. p. 16. p. 17. pp. 22-29.

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listed above. Radicals share with Liberals a belief in the possibility of rational and scientific study of history. The contrast between them has to do with differing visions of science and rationality. Radicals are said to seek laws which operate in history, whereas Liberals look for general trends and main directions of development. Conservatives and Anarchists are convinced, in turn, that the sense of history can be discovered and verbalized. They differ, however, with respect to the methods of research in history. Anarchists are proponents of empathy, which is close to Romanticism, while Conservatives strive to integrate cognitive intuitions into one comprehensive Organicist whole. According to White, the historiographic style is a combination of poetic tropes, the mode of emplotment, argumentation and ideological implication, defined on different levels of conceptualization. As White remarks: the various modes of emplotment, argument, and ideological implication cannot be indiscriminately combined in a given work. For example, a Comic emplotment is not compatible with a Mechanistic argument, just as a Radical ideology is not compatible with a Satirical emplotment. There are, as it were, elective affinities among the various modes that might be used to gain an explanatory affect on the different levels of composition. And these affinities are based on the structural homologies which can be discerned among the possible modes of emplotment, argument and ideological implication. 19

Individual historiographic styles can be expounded in the form of the following table: Mode of Trope

Mode of Emplotment

Mode of Argument

Mode of Ideological Implication

Metaphor

Romantic

Formist

Anarchist

Metonymy

Tragic

Mechanistic

Radical

Synecdoche

Comic

Organicist

Conservative

Irony

Satirical

Contextualist

Liberal

No connection occurs between the explanatory strategy adopted and the past, since both the explanatory strategy used, and the fragment of the past at hand are constructed by the historian in the act of prefiguration. When characterizing the historians whose work, according to him, is a model representation of the four historiographic styles identified above, White claims that:

19

Ibid., p. 29.

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Their status as possible models of historical representation or conceptualization does not depend upon the nature of the “data” they used to support their generalization or the theories they invoked to explain them; it depends rather upon the consistency, coherence, and the illuminative power of their respective visions of the historical field. This is why they cannot be “refuted,” or their generalizations “disconfirmed,” either by appeal to new data that might be turned up in subsequent research or by elaboration of a new theory for interpreting the sets of events that comprise their objects of representation and analysis. Their status as models of historical narration and conceptualization depends, ultimately, on the preconceptual and specifically poetic nature of their perspectives on history and its processes. 20

The two contrary positions reflect the continuum of views on the place of history in culture and its methodological status. Positivists maintain that adequate explanation of the phenomena can be achieved by appealing to a scientific law and its antecedent conditions. According to the positivist formulation, a scientific law, while arising by generalization, is provided with empirical content. Owing to that, it is verifiable; i.e., it may be refuted or confirmed. Narrativists, on the other hand, claim that explanation in history is similar to explanations found in everyday life and in literature. It relies on the transformation of the incomprehensible into the comprehensible. This assumption gives primacy to literary means which are used in historical narration. In narrativist understanding, a given explanatory strategy appears in the course of prefiguration that both constitutes an object of study and defines the literary tropes which are the basis of its investigation. A historiographic style arising in this way contains four elements: the trope, the mode of emplotment, argumentation and the reference to ideological implications. It is a construct that is superimposed by the historian and as such it does not have any link with the past reality. 2. A Paraphrase of the Controversy between Positivism and Narrativism Paraphrasing the basic claims of the positivistic and narrativistic approaches to history must rely on more than a reference to a certain suitably receptive theory of science. One needs to look for a more general concept, which could express a specific nature of the products of culture in its various realms: both in science and, for example, in literature. Such

20

Ibid., p. 9.

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basis may be supplied by Unitarian Metaphysics.21 Let us then paraphrase the controversy between narrativism and positivism in terms of that framework. First, let us recall the notions that will be used in the present paper. Unitarian Metaphysics identifies two types of deformation procedures, which are used in culture: hard and soft. The examples of hard deformation procedures are reduction and transcendentalization, while the examples of soft procedures are negative and positive potentialization. Let us assume that we have an initial object O provided with a certain set of properties, which are characterized by a certain intensity. As a consequence of a transcendentalization, object O' is provided with certain additional properties, which an initial object does not have. The contrary one is a reduction, which relies upon depriving object O'' of certain properties in comparison with the initial object. As a result of the use of positive potentialization, properties of object O' are characterized by greater intensity than the properties of the antecedent object O. The procedure of negative potentialization, instead, eventuates in an object the properties of which are characterized by smaller intensity than the intensities of the antecedent object’s properties. Constructs which are created in different realms of culture are a result of using complex deformation procedures. The idealizational method in science is a combination of reduction and negative potentialization. A black body is devoid of certain properties, and those, which it has, are present in the state of minimal intensity. The procedure of absolutization, which is used in theology, is a combination of the procedure of transcendentalization and that of positive potentialization. In theological thought, God is an ideal being that possesses more properties with maximal intensity than any empirical being.22 Whereas fictionalization, which is used in literature, is a combination of reduction and positive potentialization. On the one hand, Jurand of Spychów, a character from a novel Krzyżacy (Teutonic Knights) by Henryk Sienkiewicz, a winner of the Nobel literary prize, lived a more colorful life than an average “empirical” person in the Middle Ages. This is just an outcome of positive potentialization. On the other hand, a fictional figure is deprived of certain properties in comparison to “real,” actually existing personae. We know nothing, for example, about Jurand of Spychów’s grandfather. 21

An elaborate discussion of this concept can be found in Nowak (1998), and in English (1991). I based my presentation of its most important notions on its summary presented in: Nowak (1989). 22 For models in theology, see, e.g., Barbour (1974); and common structure of science and theology – Nowak (2000).

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Is it possible, then, to provide the following paraphrase of the question of whether history is closer to science or literature: “What deformation procedures find primary application in history: idealization or fictionalization?”. Even if we agree that the use of the idealizational method in the historical science is of primary importance, then in the conflict mentioned above we are far from granting all rights to positivists and denying them to narrativists. The most outstanding critics of the scientistic approach to history do not realize that they criticize the image of science that they themselves presuppose.23 And they tacitly assume a positivist image of science. Meanwhile, one of the interpretations of the model method in scientific research, the idealizational theory of science (ITS) assumes an admittedly naturalistic, yet antipositivist image of science.24 Let us present, then, a rough outline of a model of research procedure located within this framework. 25 (Idealization). Constructing a scientific theory begins with deforming the essential structure of the investigated phenomenon. According to the first model of a theory, researchers neglect factors that they view as secondary and investigate the influence of the principal factors. Such formulation of the idealizational law is a conditional statement. Its antecedent contains idealizing assumptions, by force of which the influence of secondary factors is neglected. Its successor indicates the way in which the investigated phenomenon depends on its principal factor. Scientific law is not, then, the result of generalizing empirical data, but of deforming the investigated phenomenon, i.e., neglecting a factor that is perceived as secondary and recognizing the sole influence of the principal factor. Thus, idealization resembles White’s act of prefiguration. In order to neglect certain dimensions of the phenomenon, one needs courage and imagination in escaping the load of details, which weigh heavily on the theory’s construction. Nobody knows why White attributes this courage and imagination to poets, and denies them to scientists. (Concretization). Idealization is only similar to White’s act of prefiguration because ITS contains a procedure which has been ignored both by narrativists and positivists, namely the procedure of concretization. Once the idealizational law has been formulated the 23

See, e.g., the interview with White: Domańska (1998), p. 15. Cf. the comparison of the idealizational theory of science with the positivist approach to science in Nowak (1971) and (1973). 25 Basic presentation of this theory one can find in Nowak (1980) while survey of its extensions and application in (1992). 24

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researcher sets to concretize the model: a procedure that is not used in both the other approaches. This procedure relies upon a gradual waiving of idealizing assumptions made previously and presenting the dependencies between the investigated phenomenon and secondary factors. Concretization proceeds in a defined order. First one waives the idealizing assumptions that refer to those secondary factors which exert the greatest influence upon the phenomenon under study. Afterwards, one waives those assumptions that refer to factors exerting relatively smaller influence upon the investigated phenomenon. Concretization ends with canceling all idealizing assumptions and drawing up a factual statement. (Approximation). However, in the research practice, ultimate concretization, as a result of which all simplifying assumptions of the idealizational law are waived is never carried out. It is usual that after a number of concretizations the influence of the remaining, less important secondary factors, is established through approximation. It relies on attributing certain values to secondary factors. The values are different from minimal values that are allocated to them in idealizing assumptions and from the actual values adopted by secondary factors. An approximation statement is accepted when the level of acceptable discrepancies between empirical data and a result derived from a theoretical formula is not larger than what is generally accepted in a given domain of science. (Explanation). In the ITS explanation depends upon presenting the dependence between the investigated object and the principal factor. The next step is to concretize the idealizational law until a factual statement is drawn. What is explained is derived from the factual statement, which has been formulated on the basis of the procedure of concretization, and from its antecedent conditions.26 (Verification). According to Hempel’s deductive-nomological model, laws can be applied directly to reality. In ITS this direct application is only possible in the case of ultimate concretization of the idealizational law. In practice, however, after a number of concretizations, empirical data are juxtaposed with an approximation of the concretized idealizational law. Too great a discrepancy between empirical data and a result which has been deduced from a theoretical formula does not result in ruling out the idealizational law but in correcting it further through a continuing concretization process.

26

For differences between the positivist and idealizational model of explanation and formulation of laws, see Nowak (1971) and (1973).

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3. Three Paradoxes of the Narrative in the Light of the Idealizational Theory of Historical Narration The key issue in the historian’s research procedure is the construction of historical narration. Using a suitably expanded conceptual terminology of the idealizational theory of historical narration, let us paraphrase three paradoxes of narration. One has been observed by Hempel, and the other two by White. According to Izabella Nowakowa, who has developed the concept of narration in the realm of ITS, the structure of historical narration reflects the structure of the theory explaining the investigated phenomenon.27 Historical narration consists of two layers. Its phenomenal layer records the states of the phenomena examined. Its deep layer, on the other hand, refers to the determinants, which decide the particular states of the phenomenon. Since factors determining the state of the investigated phenomenon are ordered with respect to their significance, the deep structure of narration is composed of strips. The first narrative strip describes the phenomenon in terms of the first model of the assumed idealizational theory. It presents the course of the phenomenon depending upon the influence of the principal factor (factors). The second narrative strip contains more subtle interpretations, for it also takes into account the impact of the secondary factor upon the investigated phenomenon. Subsequent narrative strips contain ever richer interpretations of the consecutive states of the phenomenon, since they take into account newly arising secondary factors, which have been neglected in the preliminary strip of narration. Thus, in historical narration it is essential not so much to point to what it exhibits, but what it overlooks.28 A historian-materialist, for example, who describes the history of Poland, is supposed to concentrate upon methods of production, technological advancement, methods of dividing national revenues, etc. Only on a further plane will he take into consideration the influence of political institutions and spiritual culture. A historian-institutionalist, conversely, will concentrate on changes in the political system, i.e. the history of dynasties and monarchies. A historian-idealist, on the other hand, will focus in his vision of the history of Poland on such events as the adoption of Christianity, Reformation and the rise of Protestantism, Counter-Reformation, and the culture of Sarmatism, Enlightenment and the appearance of Romanticism. Only

27 28

Nowakowa (1990), pp. 31-40. Nowakowa (1991), p. 107.

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later, on a further plane, that historian will address the influence of economic or political factors on Polish history. A strip-like structure of historical narration can thus explain the first paradox of narration, which was noted by White: The historian has to interpret his materials in order to construct the moving pattern of images in which the form of the historical process is to be mirrored. And this because the historical record is both too full and too sparse. On the one hand, there are always more facts in the record than the historian can possibly include in his narrative representation of a given segment of the historical process. And so the historian must “interpret” his data by excluding certain facts from his account as irrelevant to his narrative purpose. 29

Every narrative, however seemingly “full,” is constructed on the basis of a set of events that might have been included but were left out; this is as true of imaginary narratives as it is of realistic ones. 30 In the first narrative strip a historian excludes these facts (factors) which s/he views as secondary (i.e. less important) for a given phenomenon. Disregarding certain factors which are considered secondary for a given phenomenon, is a common feature both for the narration which describes real phenomena and for fictional narration. However, substantial differences exist between the two types of narration. In the case of narration of historical phenomena, the criterion of selecting historical material is supplied by a scientific theory which provides a hierarchy of factors influencing a given phenomenon. In the case of literary narration the criterion which decides about what belongs to narration and what can be neglected is provided by the author's preferences, aesthetic tastes, the Zeitgeist, etc. Moreover, in contrast to narration of fictional phenomena, historical narration can be even more realistic, since its subsequent strips describe the development of a given phenomenon in terms of model II and its derivatives, within the idealizational theory adopted. The idea of historical narration which has been expounded above, is based on a series of idealizing assumptions. One of them is a conviction about the one-sidedness of influence. It assumes that if a factor A influences a factor B, then the factor B does not influence the factor A. Waiving of this presumption leads to the explication of a categorial system. The term refers to a set C of such properties that for every F of C – a set of essential factors for F is included in C. The categorial system should be differentiated from a categorial correlate. It is such a set of properties C, which includes a class of all principal factors for any 29 30

White (1978), p. 51. White (1987), p. 10.

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property F from C. Waiving this assumption results in canceling the division of narration into its phenomenal and deep layers. In the organicist narration, which constitutes a more realistic approximation of historical narration, the same sentences belong simultaneously to both layers of narration: phenomenal and deep. However, in the research practice of historians it is rare indeed that we can find an attempt at describing the whole categorial correlate. Examples include great syntheses similar to the styles of Arnold Toynbee or Feliks Koneczny, which cover the history of civilization or the whole of humanity, and may be interpreted as such attempts. More commonly, historians strive for much more modest goals: they do not aim to describe the whole categorial correlate but to grasp essential connections between factors. In particular, historians are interested in finding an answer to the question of what (which factors) resulted in a situation in which a factor under study adopted a certain value. In that reconstruction, historians recreate both direct influence of certain factors upon the magnitude under study and indirect influence, i.e., the impact of factors that do not influence the investigated magnitude directly, but which influence factors that in turn exert direct influence on it. In order to elucidate the special nature of the narration of essential connections between factors, I would like to use a slightly modified extension of ITS developed by Jan Pomorski.31 Pomorski replaces the assumption of one-sidedness of influence with the following one: A-1: every distinguished factor F generates ontically a set of factors essential for F and a set of factors for which F is an essential factor.32 Between a set of factors essential for F and a set of factors upon which F exerts its influence, relations of identity, subordination, superordination, intersection and exclusion may obtain. For a historian, it is the latter case that is the most interesting. In this case, sets of factors essential for F and for which F is essential, are mutually exclusive. This situation allows waiving another assumption upon which ITS relied and which states that: A-2: factor F is subordinate to the essential impact of solely directly essential factors.33 Waiving that assumption allows introducing a notion of an indirect factor. An indirectly essential factor for the F factor is a factor which 31

Pomorski (1981). Ibid., p. 63. 33 Ibid., p. 76. 32

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influences F through a mediation of another factor. Depending upon the number of factors-mediators, which are present in this chain of influences, we can discuss the first, second, etc. levels of indirectness. A zero level of indirectness is the level of direct essential influence. 34 After imposing the relation of temporal ordering upon the relation of influence, let us examine the following chain of influences between factors B, H, F: 1

2

Bt → Ht → Ft

3

Factor H is a principal factor for the magnitude F, whereas factor B is a principal factor for H. Factor B is then a factor indirectly essential for F, and factor H – directly essential factor. Thus, narration assumes two theories: T1 , which examines the influence of factor H upon F and T 2 , which examines the influence of factor B upon H. In the first narrative strip, a simplified structure of narration is the following: Strips of narration

Phenomenal layer

Deep layer

I strip

F(a, t 3 ) = f ' H(a, t 2 ) = h

H(a, t 2 ) = h B (a, t 1 ) = b

It is clear that after waiving the assumption about one-sidedness of influence, the sentence which describes the state of the factor H in time t 2 appears both in the phenomenal and deep layers of narration. The sentence which describes the state of the factor F is present only in the phenomenal layer of narration and the sentence which describes the state of the factor B – in the deep layer. Strategies for further development of narration can be different depending on the strategies of developing the theory of idealizational factors F and H. The following can be differentiated, then: (i) reconstructing the complete essential structure F (for the sake of simplicity, I would like to add that the essential structure of each of the factors consists of the principal factor and solely two secondary factors): p1 ↓ B→H→F ↑ p2

34

Ibid., p. 76.

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(ii) reconstructing the complete essential structure F and the principal factors s and r for the secondary factors p 1 and p2 , which influence F r → p1 ↓ B→H→F ↑ s → p2 (iii) reconstructing the essential structure F and H: t p1 ↓ ↓ B→H→F ↑ ↑ v p2 (iv) reconstructing the essential structure F and H and the principal factors which influence the secondary factors t, v for H and p1 , p2 for F: z→t ↓ B → H ↑ u→v

r → p1 ↓ → F ↑ s → p2

For the purposes of illustration I will expound only on the narrative structure of case (ii):

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Strips of narration

Phenomenal layer

Deep layer

I strip

F(a, t 3 ) = f' 3 H(a, t 2 ) = h' 2

H(a, t 2 ) = h 2 B(a, t 1 ) = b 1

II strip

F(a, t 3 ) = f'' 3 p 1 (a, t 2 ) = m 1 '' 2

H(a, t 2 ) = h & p 1 (a, t 2 ) = m 1 2 r(a, t 1 ) = n 1 1

III strip

F(a, t 3 ) = f''' 3 p 2 (a, t 2 ) = m 2 ''' 2

H(a, t 2 ) = h 2 & p 1 (a, t 2 ) = m 1 2 & p 2 (a, t 2 ) = m 2 2 s(a, t 1 ) = n 2 1

The narration depicted above is of the intra-theoretical type. Its objects are: - a multimodel theory T1 examining the influence of factor H and the secondary factors p 1 and p 2 upon F; - a one-model theory T2 examining the influence of factor B upon H; - a one-model theory T3 examining the influence of factor r upon factor p 1 secondary to F; - a one-model theory T4 examining the influence of factor s upon the secondary factor p 2 .

the principal the principal the principal the principal

In this narration, the factors H, p 1 and p 2 are directly influencing F, and the factors B, r, s, – indirectly. The formulas: H(a, t 2 ), p 1 (a, t 2 ) and p 2 (a, t 2) are present both in the phenomenal and deep layers of narration. The formula F(a, t 3) is present only in the phenomenal layer, and the formulas: B(a, t 1 ), s(a, t 1), r(a, t 1 ) are present only in the deep layer. Thus, contrary to Nowakowa’s position, the division of narration into the phenomenal and deep layers is not canceled completely.35 Certain sentences belong both to the phenomenal and deep layer of narration, some belong only to the phenomenal, and some only to the deep layer on narration. In this type of narration, the most important position is explaining the state of the factor F. That is the reason why the narration not does expound on the whole sets of factors for which factors H, p1 and p2 are essential but only presents the influence that they exerted on the factor F under examination. Also, the narration does not reconstruct the whole essential structure of the factors: H, p 1 and p2 , but only reconstructs the principal factors for those magnitudes. This extension of the concept of narration lets us understand the second paradox of historical narration observed by Hempel. Hempel 35

Nowakowa (1990), p. 37.

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remarks that the description of the development of a certain phenomenon in the so-called genetic explanation, which is in fact nothing else than historical narration, does not rely on exposing all the facts which were there prior to the state of an phenomenon being studied, but only on such of them, i.e., those which are essential for its present state. Historical narration, as Hempel goes on to say, does not resemble a “yearbook of the year’s important events,” in which events are only expounded in their chronological order. Instead, “each stage must be shown to ‘lead to’ the next, and thus to be linked to its successor by virtue of some general principle which makes the occurrence of the latter at least reasonably probable, given the former.”36 This type of description is always a combination of: a certain measure of nomological interconnecting with more or less large amounts of straight description . . . A genetic explanation will begin with a pure description of an antecedent stage; thence, it will proceed to an account of a second stage, part of which is nomologically linked to, and explained by, the characteristic features of the antecedent stage; while the balance is simply described as relevant for a nomological account of some aspects of the third stage; and so forth. 37

The narration does not resemble “a yearbook of the year’s important events,” since the aim of an ideal historian is not to reconstruct the whole areas of the influence of factors B and H, but only to expose the way in which B influences H and H together with secondary factors influence F. Within the idealizational concept of narration a counterpart of “nomological interconnectings” is the deep layer of narration, and the counterpart of “straight description” is its phenomenal layer. Hempel ignores a strip structure of the deep layer of narration. This results from his methodological assumptions, i.e., ignoring the idealizational status of laws formulated in science, of which historical narration is a reflection. Moreover, Nowakowa’s concept of historical narration tacitly presumes that the historian disposes a perfect source basis – which allows one to register future states of the investigated phenomena being and its determinants. If, however, we waive that assumption and realistically assume that the source basis is incomplete, we must deal with the third paradox of narration, which has been observed by White: On the other hand, in his efforts to reconstruct “what happened” in any given period of history, the historian inevitably must include in his narrative an account of some events or complex of events for which the facts that would permit a plausible explanation of its occurrence are lacking. And this means that the 36 37

Hempel (1962), p. 23. Ibid., p. 24.

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historian must “interpret” his materials by filling in the gaps in his information on inferential or speculative ground.38

Thus, a scientific theory decides not only which factors should be neglected in the first strip of narration, but also the way in which, in the case of a lack of full source-based evidence, future states of the investigated phenomenon will be reconstructed together with a set of factors which influence them. The scientific theory in historical research plays not just an explanatory but also a heuristic role, which allows new interpretations of the already known historical sources and show new directions of empirical researches broadening source-based evidence and opening a possibility of a more complete reconstruction of the states of the investigated phenomenon and its essential structure. 39 4. The Content of this Volume The papers collected in the first part of the present volume, Ontology of the Historical Process are devoted to an issue concerning the role of an individual in the historical process. In his paper “Possibilities and Necessities of the Historical Process”, Marceli Handelsman considers the influence of an individual upon the historical process. He is convinced that this influence is the greatest in the period of the so-called historical hiatuses, when opposing historical tendencies get balanced. Jerzy Topolski, in his paper “The Activistic Concept of the Historical Process,” reconstructs various theories of the historical process, which have been distinguished with respect to roles attributed to an individual. He contrasts fatalistic concepts of the historical process, in which an individual is subordinated either to unconscious internal factors or to independent external factors, with the concept of Marxist activism which he reconstructed. The same issue has been addressed by Leszek Nowak in his article “Class and Individual in the Historical Process.” The author distinguishes two dimensions of the issue. The first dimension is based on the question of whether global entities such as a class or a nation exist independently of individuals. The question is answered in the affirmative by existential holism, whereas existential individualism denies such a possibility. The second dimension refers to the question of what is more important in the historical process: global entities or individual entities? Essential holism assigns primary importance to the first, whereas 38 39

Ibid., p. 51. Compare, e.g., Murphey (1994), p. 302.

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essential individualism prioritizes the second. Furthermore, Nowak uses this perspective to try to define a role of an individual in history on the basis of a certain fragment of non-Marxian historical materialism, which is a combination of existential individualism and essential holism. Part II, Modeling in the Methodology of History, deals with different methodological aspects of method of model-building. The first article in that section is “Idealization Procedures in History” by Jerzy Topolski. Topolski identifies four idealizational procedures in historians’ enterprise. These are: factualizing the source material, modeling the image of the past reality, narrative abstraction (summarizing) and explanative abstraction (omission). The idealizational procedure is tacitly assumed in constructing notions. The procedure is an act of distinguishing constitutive properties of an object and depreciating its consecutive properties. Thus, defining presumes a certain theory of the defined phenomena. In Tadeusz Pawłowski’s paper “Typological Concepts in Historical Sciences,” the author discusses the status of typological terms consisting of classificatory concepts which ascertain presence or absence of certain properties in a set of investigated objects and comparative concepts which measure their intensity. The procedure of idealization is present in the formulation of scientific laws, which are intended to explain particular facts and historic events. Various aspects of formulating idealizational scientific laws, their concretization and explanation have been undertaken in the three successive articles of that part of the volume. In “The Directive of Rationalizing Human Actions”, Jerzy Topolski ponders on the idealizational nature of the assumption of rationality and its role in explaining human behavior. In “Methodological Peculiarities of History in the Light of Idealizational Theory of Science” Krzysztof Brzechczyn suggests an extension of the concept mentioned in the title, so that it can encompass certain methodological historical peculiarities, such as the existence of alternatives in the historical process. In his paper “The Model and its Concretization in Economic History” Jerzy Topolski identifies four ways of its concretization: territorial, chronological, quantitative, and filling a model by source dates. The third part, Modeling in the Research Practice, is devoted to the applications of idealization in the historians’ scientific endeavors. It is clear that the model method is gradual in nature. A specific case of idealization, which is often not conceptualized and is carried out intuitively, is the very process of differentiating from the composite and complex historical reality factors responsible for certain historical

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occurrences. This is what Bolesław Leśnodorski accomplished in his paper “There Was Not One Causa Efficencis of Poland’s Partitions,” in which he conducts an analysis of factors responsible for the partitions of Poland in the late 18th century. A greater degree of methodological self-reflection can be found in Jan Rutkowski’s paper “Theoretical Considerations on the Distribution of Incomes in Feudal Systems.” When analyzing the division of income in the feudal system, Rutkowski distinguishes between three pure types of work systems: rent, villeinage and hired labor. The picture thus obtained then gets more complex as Rutkowski considers the influence of mixed types and other factors influencing the distribution of incomes. In “Why Did the Polanian Tribe Unite the Polish State?” Henryk Łowmiański initially considers the problem of why it was the Polanian and not the Vistulan tribe that was a germ of the Polish statehood in the 9th and 10th centuries. He formulates a historical law on the origin of statehood and defines disturbing conditions, which caused that the Vistulan tribe could not be a centre of Polish statehood. The two articles have been appended with Jerzy Topolski’s “Comments.” The concept of cascadeness – the gradual accumulation of insignificant factors whose the joint impact at certain moment in time overbalances the influence of the basic factors, on which a given phenomenon relies has been adopted by Krzysztof Brzechczyn in his contribution “The Distinctiveness of Central Europe in the Light of the Cascadeness of the Historical Process.” The author of this paper explains the rise of the manorial-serf system in Central Europe and considers different regional variants of evolution of this system. In “The Economic Model of the Wielkopolska Region in the 18 th Century” Jerzy Topolski adopts Witold Kula’s theory of the feudal system as a point of departure for his analysis. Beyond that, he concretizes that theory in order to explain the economic development of Wielkopolska in the 18th century. The articles collected in the last, fourth part of the present volume, Analytical Philosophy of History. Polish Contributions, address various aspects of the Polish analytical philosophy of history. Issues covered in that section include the problem of differentiating between general laws and historical generalizations and different models of causal explanation. Two approaches to history, the nomothetic and the idiographic one, have been distinguished by Andrzej Malewski and Jerzy Topolski in their contribution “The Nomothetic versus the Idiographic Approach to History.” Moreover, the two authors identify a number of senses of the concepts “nomothetic” and “idiographic.”

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In his article “General Laws and Historical Generalizations in the Social Sciences,” Stefan Nowak ponders on when a researcher formulates detailed statements, historical generalization and a universal law. He also identifies a number of supplementary variants of these statements. Nowak suggests space-time co-ordinates as a criterion of differentiating these statements. By contrast, Stanisław Ossowski in his paper “Two Conceptions of Historical Generalizations” claims that these co-ordinates are not essential to differentiating between historical generalizations and universal laws. In his theorem, historical generalizations (scientific laws) are predicated on universal dependencies, whereas historical general statements (historical generalizations) are predicated on dependencies, which act in the so-called relatively isolated systems. A summary of this discussion is offered by Jan Such in “The Scientific Law versus Historical Generalization. An Attempt at Explication,” in which the author examines the problem of differences between two types of theorems formulated in science, concluding that they are gradual rather than dichotomic in nature. The last paper in the section deals with problem of causal explanation in the historians' work. In their paper “On Causal Explanation in History,” Andrzej Malewski and Jerzy Topolski distinguish the explanation of a given historic event by means of cause understood as a sufficient condition (i), a necessary condition (ii), a condition necessary in a given specific situation (iii) and a favorable condition (iv). In a further part of their article, the authors recreate models of explanation construed on the basis of providing indirect and direct causes of a given historic event. * The work on the present volume has been begun by myself and Professor Jerzy Topolski. Unfortunately, Professor Topolski’s unexpected death put an abrupt stop to our collaboration. It also affected the contents of this volume, in which I decided to include a series of his articles, which were not previously translated into English. In the course of my subsequent individual editorial work on the present volume, I benefited from invaluable advice and suggestions offered Professor Leszek Nowak. I would like to take this opportunity to acknowledge gratefully his assistance in preparing the volume. translated by Małgorzata Klimek

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Adam Mickiewicz University Department of Philosophy ul. Szamarzewskiego 89 C 60-568 Poznań, Poland e-mail: [email protected] REFERENCES Barbour, I. (1974). Myths, Models, and Paradigms. A Comparative Study in Science and Religion. New York: Harper and Row. Domańska, E. (1998). Encounters. Philosophy of History after Postmodernism. Charlottesville/London: University Press of Virginia. Hempel, C.G. ([1942] 1965). The Function of General Laws in History. Reprinted in: Hempel (1965), pp. 231-243. Hempel, C.G. ([1948] 1965). Studies in the Logic of Explanation. In: Hempel (1965), pp. 245-295. Hempel, C.G. (1962). Explanation in Science and in History. In: R. G. Colodny (ed.), Frontiers of Science and Philosophy, pp. 8-33. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press. Hempel, C.G. (1963). Reasons and Covering Laws in Historical Explanation. In: S. Hook (ed.), Philosophy and History. A Symposium, pp. 143-163. New York: New York University Press. Hempel, C.G. (1965). Aspects of Scientific Explanation and Other Essays in the Philosophy of Science. New York: Free Press. Himmelfarb, G. (1999). Postmodernist History. In: E. Fox-Genovese and E. Lasch-Quinn (eds.), Reconstructing History. The Emergence of a New Historical Society, pp. 71-93. New York/London: Routledge. Mc Lennan, G. (1981). Marxism and the Methodologies of Histories. London: NLB. Lorenz, Ch. (1998). Can Histories Be True? Narrativism, Positivism, and the “Metaphorical Turn.” History and Theory 37, 309-329. Murphey, M.G. (1994). Philosophical Foundations of Historical Knowledge. Albany: State University of New York Press. Nowak, L. (1971). U podstaw marksowskiej metodologii nauk [Foundations of Marxian Methodology of Sciences]. Warszawa: PWN. Nowak, L. (1973). Pozytywistyczna koncepcja praw i wyjaśniania [Positivist Concept of Laws and Explanation]. In: J. Kmita (ed.), Elementy marksistowskiej metodologii humanistyki [Elements of the Marxist Methodology of the Humanities], pp. 277-302. Poznań: Wydawnictwo Poznańskie. Nowak, L. (1980). The Structure of Idealization. Towards a Systematic Interpretation of the Marxian Idea of Science. Dordrecht: Reidel. Nowak, L. (1989). Byt i myśl. Przyczynek do metafizyki unitarnej [Being and Mind. Contribution to Unitarian Metaphysics]. Studia Filozoficzne 1, 1-18. Nowak, L. (1991). Thoughts Are Facts of Possible Worlds. Truths Are Facts of a Given World. Dialectica 45(4), 273-287. Nowak, L. (1992). The Idealizational Approach to Science: A Survey. In: J. Brzeziński and L. Nowak (eds.), Idealization III: Approximation and Truth (Poznań Studies in

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the Philosophy of the Science and the Humanities, vol. 25), pp. 9-63. Amsterdam/Atlanta, GA: Rodopi. Nowak, L. (1998). Byt i myśl. U podstaw negatywistycznej metafizyki unitarnej. Vol. 1: Nicość i istnienie [Being and Mind. Foundations of the Negativist Unitarian Metaphysics. Vol. I: Nothingness and Existence]. Poznań: Zysk i S-ka. Nowak, L. (2000). On the Common Structure of Science and Religion. In: Garcia de la Sienra (ed.), The Rationality of Theism (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Science and the Humanities, vol. 73), pp. 317-343. Amsterdam/Atlanta: Rodopi. Nowakowa, I. (1990). Historical Narration and Idealization. In: J. Topolski (ed.), Narration and Explanation. Contributions to the Methodology of the Historical Research (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Science and the Humanities, vol. 19), pp. 31-40. Amsterdam/Atlanta: Rodopi. Nowakowa, I. (1991). Zmienność i stałość w rozwoju nauki. Przyczynek do metodologii związków diachronicznych [Stability and Change in the Development of Science. Contribution to Methodology of Diachronic Connections]. Poznań: Nakom. Pomorski, J. (1981). Próba idealizacyjnej teorii nauk historycznych [An Attempt at an Idealizational Theory of Historical Sciences]. Studia Metodologiczne 20, 61-93. White, H. (1973). Metahistory. The Historical Imagination in Nineteenth Century Europe. Baltimore/London: The Johns Hopkins University Press. White, H. (1978). Tropics of Discourse. Essays in Cultural Criticism. Baltimore/London: The Johns Hopkins University Press. White, H. (1987). The Content of the Form. Narrative Discourse and Historical Representation. Baltimore/London: The Johns Hopkins University Press.

I ONTOLOGY OF THE HISTORICAL PROCESS

Marceli Handelsman POSSIBILITIES AND NECESSITIES OF THE HISTORICAL PROCESS

When historians delve into investigated facts and endeavor to penetrate the intricacies of historical phenomena, they are driven, or rather they have to be driven, by a certain principal thought. This thought is born in their minds slowly and gradually in order to finally become a central idea, an ordering principle capable of explaining the chaos of historical phenomena, a point of departure in understanding the origins and transformations of those phenomena. As a result, the present and the past, in all their colorfulness, are arranged in a whole, and historians start to understand what happened in the past and they imagine that they understand what can still happen in the future. This idea is a mental connection between the past, which is the object of historical study, and the present, which is the object of personal experience. It is also the guiding idea of a historian’s worldview. Historians rarely set out to define such an idea: they never have enough experience. Therefore, they are always looking for new evidence, which is supposed to justify their thesis and which can repeatedly undermine its foundations. As a cautious and responsible researcher, historians must be discreet in formulating these main principles, in order not to reveal prematurely a truth that has not been precisely formulated or a truth that they would not be eager to reveal to everybody. At exceptional moments, they probe the depth of their thoughts and, with a certain apprehension, strive to express the foundations of their approach to historical phenomena. Any social activist or observer-theoretician notices the phenomena of life that surround him/her and which appear quite simple, but which she/he cannot understand. Changeability and fluidity, and hence movement, is the most essential property of human life. The most important place in this movement is occupied by the activity of individual

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 33-42. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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or social collectivity. In every single moment of this movement, there occur components that humans desire, prepare and work out. However, there also occur components, which are independent of humans and imposed on them, which they defend themselves against and fend off, but which emerge against their will nonetheless. There also occur elements that are imposed on humans from the outside, as it were. These elements seem to be an inescapable consequence of an effect the cause of which lies beyond the humans. Nevertheless, these elements evoke in humans or through humans phenomena which are not accepted by their consciousness and will but which nevertheless emerge and exist. At every moment of that endless chain of changes, of which the historical process is composed, there appear elements that are purposely evoked by human beings, elements chosen by them from among a number of possibilities, and also elements which are imposed and cannot be staved off and removed. At every moment of our own individual and social life we notice the existence of the phenomena that were intentionally pursued by us, those that arose accidentally, and finally those that, having come into existence, seem to us the necessary effect of the causes that lie somewhere away from us. This diversity of elements brings about that the interpretation of the process of emerging of phenomena is dependent on the mentality of the observer. Thus, this historical process seems to be the result of the human will in operation, the effect of coincidences or the outcome of some deeper essential causes or hidden forces of the movement. It will be the process of free manifestation of the purposeful and rational human will, or meaningless confluence of accidental contingencies; it will be the process of coming into existence of the phenomena resulting from the human will or the expression of the necessity present in the human environment. This necessity will be the result of irreversible, blind forces, the so-called forces of nature. Thus, the following question arises: is the historical process a chain of changes, in which the freedom of human choice is expressed, or is a form of coercion, inherent at the basis of human life, or perhaps it is both, unless such connection assumedly has to be reputed as an inadmissible contradiction. It seems that the question has to be asked by each researcher of historical changes, regardless of whether she/he is an adherent of history as the science of the individual or a proponent of history as the science of the repeatability of movement in the realm of only outwardly individual phenomena. In order to answer it, we are obliged to resort to the components that determine the historical life, regardless of the nature of these components.

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35

From the most general perspective, history is the science about a human being in the society and is anthropocentric to the core. Every human being, every human individual, is placed in the middle of the occurring changes. But each human being is a concrete individual of a given time and place. Therefore, a human being is unique in the wholeness of all times and all places. As the only and unrepeatable being in physical and mental respect, a human individual is an entanglement of unpredictability. From the position of its origin and genesis human being is the only and unrepeatable coincidence of its components. As the factor of the future life, human being becomes a source of outcomes which are perhaps unpredictable but which appear with a firm regularity of cause and effect. The firmness of this regularity has origins in human individuality. From the position of changes and effects, the individual, in spite of its utterly accidental descent, is a source of further necessity that is inevitable and inescapable. This is all the more necessary that the foundation of life, both individual and social, is movement understood as the need for changes. Clearly irrational in a child, this movement is in fact equally irrational in adults and in societies. It is just that it is then adapted to unconscious needs and the ways of willfully satisfying these needs, and that it becomes a rationalized movement, one that is justified, motivated or protected by the appearances of rational motives. Movement defined as the need for change is a physical need of humans. Also, from that point of view, it is connected with their physiological and biological development, as it is especially a mental need. As a mental phenomenon, it becomes the basis for any activity. From that, the anxiety about performing any kind of action arises, and this is nothing else than the expression of the conscious intensity of will, which at the same time expresses the need of change that is hidden in the human being. In action, through progress on the way to achieving their goals, humans find momentary fleeting satisfaction of this need. In that most unconstrained sphere, in the domain of the performance of individual will, we are confronted with an inescapable consequence of the hidden and basic mental force, understood as the need of change, which is alive in everybody. Every human activity objectifies itself, separates from acting individuality and gains independence in a double sense. As an activity, it forms its own logic, which imposes itself upon an acting subject, even against her conscious will: the activity compels an acting subject to further activity, even though the subject is ready to stop her activity when she is fed up with it or when she is overwhelmed by it. Every political

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activist knows that from her/his everyday experience. “In for a penny, in for a pound”: this commonplace adage is generally appreciated and it means: you are obliged to plod on, even if you are not willing to. To an even greater degree any work becomes independent of its author: regardless of whether it belongs to the material or moral domain. The moment a work comes into existence, be it a sculpture, a book or even only a word, it is separated from its creator, starts living a life of its own and gives rise to other facts of the social environment, which emanate from it and whose logic is independent of the work's author. The word which has been pronounced by the speaker and which has been heard by thousands of ears passes through thousands of souls and propagates thoughts in them, evokes actions, most often unpredicted by the speaker and perhaps undesired by him, and that happens unalterably since the moment of pronouncing that word. If history is anthropocentric, then such anthropocentrism has a special flavor: it is never individual, it is always collective, social. Both as a subject and object of activity, a human stands in the middle, yet always remains in close contact with other people, with whom he is united in a way that does not give him any real freedom even for a short moment. Robins Crusoe is an ideal construct of the past or some unreal utopia of the future.1 Whereas the reality is always the interweaving of individualities into more or less complicated wholes, where everybody acts alone but the all simultaneously affect others and act through others, and where the movement is always unceasing. The movement in question is the physiological-biological and mental movement of each human but also the unceasing movement of the whole, which is different from a simple sum of its elements. As a whole composed of unceasingly occurring influences of each human being upon the others and the whole upon the all humans, as the whole in motion consists of the movement of individuals and the whole’s own movement, the human society is, to a greater degree than any human individuality, a combination of forces that are rooted in individuals. These forces are the properties of individuals and they give rise to further consequences independent of the human will. Apart from the properties that may be viewed as exclusive values of one individual only, there are also those that return again and again, both presently and in turns or in a succession of generations. While returning, they evoke a sense of the very same needs and impose the same ways of

1

I owe this idea to Kostanecki (1930).

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satisfying them. These properties are supplied by external conditions of the existence of societies and an individual. Now the first component to be taken into account is geographical in nature. It is a set of conditions that connect a human being with the earth. The nature, structure and qualities of the earth: the earth understood as soil, as cultivation of plants, as property, as the base of settlement, as the maintenance of population, and as the state – they all shape human’s character, impose certain rules, and force the choice of certain solutions. In one generation after another, the same questions arise that are unalterably associated with the earth. These questions lead to these same solutions and they shape these same physical and mental qualities of the human being. Can there be anything more stable than the foreign policy of the state: state systems underwent transformations, dynasties were passed, tribes and nations ruling in Gaul or in France changed but the fundamental foreign aspirations of the state occupying this same territory throughout centuries remained invariable. It remained constant to such an extent that the state itself seemed as if an organism defined by the territory, in which only with the flow of time some cells receded from others. Or, let us look at another kind of stability: through centuries and millennia of the human masses marching from the east to the west and from the west to the east, since prehistoric times till just a while ago, the banks of the Rhine and the Vistula River had seen bitter strife. The reign of one group or another followed and then the group was again defeated on those fields of age-long struggle, in those border strips between dividing nations. Or consider the estuaries of big rivers: the Scalda, Rhine or the Dvina, the seats of great emporia, outlets of all hinterlands connected by a fan-shaped radius; the place of settlement for some transitory tribes, some tangled mixture of ethnic elements approaching in this hinterland, in narrowing streaks, a common communication artery, a big river. Or consider the sea and the tendencies of the coastal states: mare liberum for the small, mare clausum for the big, mare omnium for external states. Or the mountains with their special structure: scattered valley settlements, one-manorial villages on the mountain sides, with their tribe enclosed between the slopes; particularism in full-bloom in the Alps and in its splinter range, the Carpathians, or in the mountains of Finland or in Norway. Or those vast, flat steppes, routes of eternal wanderings, places of momentary rest for human masses in movement and a starting point for their raids into the neighboring territories (the Tartar horde, the Muscovites). The human component changes completely, and yet in certain geographical conditions these tendencies remain the same; the same

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solutions and the same necessities of making efforts are imposed on the humans. There is no better place to understand it than the Baltic Sea: since the times of the Swedish Vikings, since the times of the Livonian branch of the Teutonic Knight Order and Alexander Nevski till the present moment, the Baltic Sea has seen the same scenes time and time again, with identical wars and battles at identical places! Whereas the geographical element is the most stable one and one that is the most independent of the human will, it is not the only one in that entanglement of stable external conditions. The social structure develops from those geographical foundations. This socio-economic structure is a general societal structure which is adapted to the fight for satisfying the economic needs of the population of a given territory and a corresponding subjugation of parts of that population. That structure is one of humans’ works that are the most independent of their will. Both as a system of external ties, which is composed of human masses and a system of mental bonds which link these masses, it might seem to be a separate world, situated outside the individual and social human, beyond their human’s will. It seems to be something age-old, so far into the future does it reach with the consequences of its material and mental foundations coming from the most remote past. While retaining the essential permanence of the whole, it seems to be something most stable, in spite of its constant movement. It seems to be completely autonomous: it is directed by its own, superhuman logic of transformations. Whereas those transformations have originated in human activities, they operate irrespective of these activities, according to an independent, constant method which are inherent in them; they follow certain recurrent transformational rules. The social structure, a basic component of human culture, is governed by constant rules of its own kind in its own movement; in relation to the individual and the society it is also the beginning of an irreversible, blind subjection to itself. The geographical conditions and the social structure, which necessarily influence the development of the human psyche, are the main components of the mental race. I define the mental race as a sum of mental traits, a certain whole of dispositions, inclinations and aptitudes (drawbacks and advantages), which are transmitted with some variation from one generation to another within a population of the same territory. More than once, such population is of common physical descent: it originates from one and the same physical race. This occurs frequently but not always. On the contrary, the population composed of elements of various ethnic source is arranged into a whole of similar and constantly transmitted mental traits. The mental race is then the work of history, it is

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the outcome of common fates in the past, but it is above all the result of those inescapable, permanent influences of geography and social structure of one and the same territory. Shall I quote the latest theories which reduce the mental traits of the Spaniards to the heritage of ancient Iberians or shall I compare the characteristics of the Gauls in Julius Caesar’s times to the image of the today’s Parisians as observed through the prism of contemporary satire? Yet, is it not enough, at least for an external observer, to juxtapose the Baltic baron, the Polish lord from Livonia and the contemporary Latvian peasant in order to discover fundamental characteristics that they have in common: perseverance, doggedness, obstinacy, and a deep sense of personal dignity. The transmission of constant mental traits is tantamount to the rise of the same, or very similar relations of the human mass to external phenomena, which occur within a radius of the operation of that group of people. It is a source of certain necessary reactions to such phenomena, which are independent of the will of individuals, but spontaneously and rationally result from the external mental structure that has been given to the society and has remained constant throughout the ages. From the above considerations one conclusion might be derived: the human nature, the essence of human activity as well as the nature and conditions of social life not only determine human life but also affect it in a deterministic way. They are like an inevitable necessity pushing humans to the choice of solutions, which do not leave a place for the operation of human will and a conscious effort of individuals and masses. The historical process could be understood in this way if it were it possible to separate an individual from other people and cut off human societies from the impact of other societies. However, not only an individual Robins Crusoe, but also a social Robins has never existed. This is because the reality of historical life is composed exactly of the coexistence of human societies, and the coexistence should be defined as co-operation and counteraction, the mutual counterbalance of the efforts with the entirety of complicated conditions in which these efforts appeared. If it is possible to imagine deterministic formation of an individual or a society in isolation, in concrete reality, this formation is complicated by the counterbalance of developmental tendencies, which lead to unexpected results from the point of view of adopted assumptions. The societies live at diverse paces. The degree of their development as well as their tension, energy is different. Moments of their encounter appear at different levels of configuration of circumstances favorable to them. The encounter itself leads to neutralization, to the extinction of tendencies which arise on the basis of certain assumptions, to the

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intensification of others, to the obstruction of certain consequences and the acceleration of others, etc. As a result, open possibilities are born on that entangled surface of converging forces which come from many different sources. This is comparable to momentary pauses, hiatuses, gaps: a momentary cessation of movement. Yet the movement cannot be stopped: even if suspended, it will continue forward, it will flow as an incidental force. Not only the premises of forces, momentarily stopped in the action, are active in this movement, but also the conscious, purposeful will of humans, if such will during the pause stands in the sequence of factors of the developmental process. In this sequence of factors, the conscious, purposeful will of humans is sometimes an insignificant factor. Sometimes, when a pause is longer and level of mutual counterbalance of different tendencies is greater, conscious and purposeful will of humans becomes a main factor. When human will once enters the chain of forces, despite its most par excellence individualistic origin, it influences further progress of events in a way that could be described as deterministic, on an equal footing with other non-human forces In the course of the greatest internal and external complications in the lives of nations there appear great figures of leaders-creators. It could seem that in the circumstances of severed social bonds and crumbled international relations there is no place for an individual. Yet a situation that occurs could be compared to the moment of unleashing the forces of nature. Forces of nature act blindly. Thus, neither in the individual nor in the masses is there a place for purposeful consciousness. Irrational coincidence of human passions and an unswerving consequence of facts which occur behind the planned action fill the whole of human activities. They fill it from one edge to the other: the changes which social structure, social life and psychology of the masses and the individual undergo over time as a result of accumulated internal and external influences show some astonishing regularity. In all varieties of milieus and at different times social changes occur one after another in the same succession, with similar intensity and similar direction; also, they offer similar solutions. Suddenly, a leading individual appears on the scene. If the moment of a pause, which is brought about by mutual neutralization of internal and external influences, is sufficiently long and the individual has proper creative energy, he becomes a Cromwell, a Napoleon, something of a Bismarck, not to mention all living national leaders of yesterday and of today, leading the nations which were transformed in the fire of the revolution and the great war. But the time of pause is short: individuality becomes absorbed, which is a result of the restored advantage of deterministic non-human forces. Alternatively, the individuality may keep

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up appearances of its creative independence, but it becomes in fact merely a small part of the influences that it apparently opposes. Those influences affect this very individual as well as the whole remaining milieu. Consequently, the individuality loses its leadership qualities, and becomes the first among many, or just one of many, other parts of the whole, pushed somewhere forward by the operation of all the forces of the past, unceasingly intersecting and mutually pressing upon each other. It is no longer be the force, which represented the individual and creative human will. Since the times of Cromwell till Napoleon III after the coup d’etat, that line is uniformly constant. Let us now present some final conclusions of the present overview of factors that are fundamental to historical development, which leaves out considerations of the biological nature of humans shared with the world of other animal creatures. On the one hand, there is determinism. It eliminates the will of an individual and creative individuality from the past and reduces everything to the play of blind forces acting in the psycho-social world, in similarity to the activity of the forces of nature in the biological world. On the other hand, there exists the indeterministic doctrine of the pure free human will. It does not completely negate determining influences of non-human elements, yet it shifts them to the level of the base and substance. Also, it entirely denies them the independent nature that is ascribed to human will, to which it attributes an active role in the historical development. Between these two extreme poles there is a wide area of possibilism, which encompasses all the different ways of perceiving the historical process. While borrowing from the others the general name of the direction, of which I am a representative, I tried to provide my own formula for interpreting factors of the developmental process. In this formula, the foreground is obviously occupied to a large extent by nonhuman factors, under which I also subsume the nature of the human psyche itself and the nature of human activity. The domain of non-human phenomena is thoroughly and exclusively mental and is always permeated by mentalism. Even “geography” becomes a factor of the historical development only when its components are permeated with the elements of the human psyche, even the earth is a basis of historical life only inasmuch as the human enters into any relation with it, if he appropriates it mentally and, consequently, physically and materially. Thus, the domain of non-human phenomena is a sphere of interrelations that are connected logically by the consequences of causes and effects. It is a sphere of phenomena that develop deterministically. The world of the deterministically defined phenomena permeated by mentalism is

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connected with the world of randomness, the world of human individuality. Through the entanglement of influences, surrendering to instantaneous suspension of the necessities that govern it, the world opens up the possibilities of operation for individualities, with which it is at any rate strongly united. Such a fundamental interpretation of the structure of the historical process imposes upon us obligations of a dual nature. The theoreticians, researchers and observers, face the task of endless, detailed penetration of the examined phenomena, looking for the result of the operation of nonhuman forces, and putting aside all that is solely individual, creative, and free. The task imposes upon them a deeper and essential purpose: that of a constant eagerness to define ever more precisely the circumstances and conditions of the rise of these hiatuses, in the plenitude of which the human individuality may be realized in operation. The activists and politicians face an obligation of a different kind. Since there are pauses – spheres of unrestrained and creative human activity, since there are circumstances for the optional and individual guidance, the conditions for the rise of which have not been known so far, there appears only one duty ahead of them. It is to act as if our activities have always been free, as if always the development of mankind could proceed along the purposeful and planned line, along the path into the future which has been consciously chosen by human will. Ignorant of the conditions for the rise of these gaps, in which the human will is at the peak of its potential, in accord with theoretical assumptions, we always have the right to act in such a way as if these gaps could always appear. translated by Małgorzata Klimek REFERENCES Kostanecki, A. (1930). Problem ekonomii [The Problem of Economy]. Warszawa: Księgarnia F. Hoesicka.

Jerzy Topolski THE ACTIVISTIC CONCEPT OF THE HISTORICAL PROCESS

1. Introductory Remarks A claim can be made that without adequate reconstruction of the Marxist concept of the historical process or, in other words, without a concept of social development, one cannot reconstruct the Marxist methodology of social sciences in an equally adequate way. The latter is in a sense superimposed onto the concept of the historical process. The assumption of rationality, which was postulated and accepted by Karl Marx in the investigation of social reality and which is simultaneously the basis of the procedure of explaining human activities, has its realistic reference in Marx’s activistic concept of the historical process. In this way, the analysis of the Marxist theory of the historical process is simultaneously ontological and methodological in nature. It is obvious, after all, that the way in which we understand the historical process determines the nature of explanatory questions to be asked while explaining it. It seems that the most essential problem connected with the historical process is the problem of the status of such explanatory questions within the framework of such a process. In particular, we deal here with two more detailed questions: (i) the question of who exactly is the subject of human actions or, more precisely, what does the term ‘human’ mean in the context of the expression ‘human actions’; this touches upon principally two problems: (a) whether ‘human actions’ are actions of individuals, or actions of groups (or both individuals and groups), (b) whether the above aspects of ‘human actions’ are equally influential, or whether there exists a problem of the particular influence of actions of the so-called outstanding individuals

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 43-62. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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onto the historical process. All in all, the answer to this question should provide us with the explication of the term ‘man’ in the statement that ‘man is the subject of history’, which frequently appears in Marxist literature, (ii) the question about the structure of human actions (actions of individuals, groups, outstanding individuals, etc.), i.e. about the determinants of these actions that are objective, subjective or subjective-objective. One can easily notice that this question is simultaneously a question about the method of explanation of human actions, and consequently a question that is strictly methodological in nature. In our opinion, Marxism provides an original answer to these questions, while any such comprehensive answer cannot be found in any other framework of historical development. 2. Actions of Individuals versus Actions of Groups of People With respect to the first question, to be examined here only in a very general sense, namely the question of the interpretation of the term ‘human’ in the expression ‘human actions’, it is generally known that the outstanding contributions made by Marx to the task of reconstructing the historical process also include the consistent introduction of classes and social groups into history, that is looking at history from their vantage point. As a result, history ceased to be interpreted as a result of actions of individuals such as reigning monarchs, military leaders, etc. (i.e., ceased to be understood in a heroic and individualistic way), which does not mean, however, that historians lost sight of the latter. While examining the relation between the individual and the group (i.e., the individual and the society), one can distinguish two opposing concepts: (i) personalist and existentialist philosophy of man, emphasizing the autonomy of the individual within the society. The view that the society exists through the actions of individuals which make it up is symptomatic of such an attitude. The fact that actions of individuals are simultaneously actions of social groups within this society is ignored here, (ii) the concept which appears to be proper for an adequate understanding of Marx’s methodological directives and his research practice, that is the concept of the close interconnection

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between the actions of individuals and the actions of groups, and thus of considering the actions of individuals simultaneously as elements of group actions. In Marx’s writings of both more theoretical (such as Capital) and more historical nature (e.g. Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte) actions of individuals and actions of social groups (classes and other groups) are regarded as closely interconnected. Actions of individuals are in evidence, but at the same time there exist group actions of various kinds (the more or less organized ones, i.e., those having a collective aim on the one hand and the more or less spontaneous ones on the other hand). The actions of individuals cannot be separated from the actions of groups without applying the procedure of abstracting them from the context. Even the most individualistic action is simultaneously a group action. In his writings, Marx gives numerous examples of actions of concrete individuals, classes and other social groups, which are always treated as interconnected. 3. The Opposition of Activism and Fatalism Below, we will attempt to answer the second of the questions asked in the introduction. It seems that various concepts of the historical process can be divided into two groups of concepts or models distinguished according to the criterion of the role which is attributed to human actions in the historical process within the framework of this concept and according to how these actions are understood. This division is simultaneously connected with the various answers given to the question about the driving forces behind the historical process, i.e. about its mechanism. Clearly, such division is to a large extent only a simplification. What is intended here, however, for the time being at least, is only a tentative approach which will be subsequently refined. The first extremely varied group of concepts of the historical process, or, if we focus on our chosen criterion, concepts of the role and character of human actions in this process constitutes what can be generally described as the fatalistic model of human actions. In contrast to the first group, the second group of concepts has an activistic character. To simplify things for the time being, this means that it links the changes in the historical process (social reality) with conscious and purposeful human actions. This group of concepts is adequate in terms of historical reality and, as we will see further on, consistent only within the framework of the (correctly interpreted) Marxism. Thus, in our initial

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approach we are contrasting the fatalistic model of the historical process with the model of history which we have called activistic. The criterion of the role which is attributed within the framework of the historical process to (variously understood) human actions, can be reduced to the problem of the determinants of these actions. The way in which this problem is solved implies to what extent human actions are considered to be “independent,” i.e., treated as a manifestation of the unfettered human will, and to what extent they are to be viewed as determined by particular external factors, which are either outside the individual in question, or which cannot be controlled by an individual’s will, even though they exist in that individual. The latter aspect both characterizes these actions and simultaneously links them either to the changes in the historical process or transfers them to the sphere which is “external” in terms of taking such actions. It is characteristic of concepts which we have described as fatalistic that there is only a one-way connection between the mechanism of making decisions by people and the specific factors on which these people have no influence. Such factors “determine” the human actions more or less directly (depending on the specific concept) but always in one direction only (i.e., asymmetrically). This situation can be presented in the following chart: the factors on whose operation people have no influence

→

human actions

If we consider jointly all the concepts which can be characterized in such a way, it is easy to see that we are dealing with a specific system of relations (which can be described as the system of the fatalistic determination of human actions) sharing the following features: ⋅ ⋅ ⋅

the set of factors which cannot be influenced by people (A), the set of human actions (B), the relation of one-directional and unambiguous determination of B by A.

Because A together with B form the universum (U) of the system, then (marking the relation in question as Rjw , and the system being examined as SF) we will obtain the following symbolic representation: SF = The system of relations described above is quite simple indeed. The above-mentioned concepts which are part of the fatalistic model of the historical process are connected only by the aforementioned relation of

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unambiguous conditioning (Rjw ). They differ significantly, though, in terms of understanding factors A1 , . . . , An , and human actions (i.e., the elements making up the set B). Taking these differences into consideration leads to refining the system. The factors determining human actions in various fatalistic concepts can be generally divided into three groups: (i) factors which are external with respect to people (such as god, geographical location, automatic progress, “objective” laws, etc.), (ii) factors which, though connected with people as biological and psychological entities, are nevertheless independent of the human will (for example Freudian complexes, Lévi-Strauss’s timeless structures of the human mind, Heidegger’s sense of dread, etc.), (iii) factors of the type (i) operating in combination with the factors of the type (ii) – e.g., E. Fromm’s concepts of reformed psychoanalysis. On the other hand, the differences in the perception of human actions (which result from particular ways of understanding the factors determining human actions) can be reduced to the following formula: human actions are either seen as conscious and purposeful or are results of subconscious processes (Freud), unconscious motives (Fromm), or formalized and automatic processes (Lévi-Strauss). If we mark the above mentioned factors (i-iii) as Az, Aw, Am respectively, the conscious and purposeful actions as Bc and all the unconscious ones as Bn (that is as a subset of set B), then we will be able to refine our system of relations that is characteristic of the fatalistic model of the historical process, by including all the determinant and determined factors: SF = One can say in the most general terms that the attitude taking into account the factors Az 1 , . . . , Az n is generally connected with considering human actions as actions of the type Bc 1 , . . . , Bc n , while the attitudes taking into account the factors Aw 1 , . . . , Awn , Am1 , . . . , Amn are connected with considering human actions as the actions of the type Bn 1 , . . . , Bn n . Some of the more widespread attitudes will be examined below.

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4. The Fatalism of External Factors The concept of the historical process which has the longest track record (going back to the antiquity and the Middle Ages and to some extent persisting even much later until the present times) can be described as the providential concept and is connected with various systems of religious beliefs (and variously understood). According to this concept, the course of history is directed by a specific “supernatural” factor (gods of the antiquity, the God of Christianity, etc.) which ultimately determine all human actions. Although human actions are usually interpreted as conscious and purposeful according to this view, the mechanism of human decision-making is connected with this dynamic “supernatural” factor in some obscure way (which is impossible to interpret without accepting specific metaphysical assumptions). It is because of the latter that the world and humankind move either through successive cycles (according to the cyclical concepts of the antiquity), or in a specific direction (according to the linear concept of Christianity) in a way which is independent of human will. In the light of the providential concepts, the freedom of human decisions has appropriate limits; it is controlled by the superior force (or wisdom) and directed towards the goals which only this superior force knows. As the efforts to cast off the shackles of religious thinking from the historical discourse were gathering momentum, the providential concept found its outspoken advocate in Jacques Bénigne Bossuet (1627), the author of the celebrated Discours sur L’histoire universelle (1681), in which he stated clearly that both the totality of causes of events and the fate of states “depend on the mysterious verdicts of providence.” 150 years later, another historian, Leopold von Ranke (1795-1886) refined the same concept in a similar vein. He wrote: “The most important question among those that we are dealing with is humankind such as it is, explainable or unexplainable: the lives of individuals, generations and nations, and God’s hand above them.”1 The method of making human free will (and consequently conscious and purposeful actions) consistent with God’s determination of human actions became the subject of analyses by Christian philosophers (Thomists, neo-Thomists, Roman-Catholic personalists and others). In their opinion, people are singularly mysterious beings. Whereas they are endowed with a free will and autonomy, they are dependent on God (cf., e.g., Gilson) and without His grace are unable to act freely and choose between good and evil (cf., e.g., Maritain). It is easy to see that according 1

Ranke (1885), p. VIII.

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to Jacques Maritain’s model the human being is free to choose evil or good and as such can influence the course of history, but the latter eventuality is possible only as long as she/he surrenders to the influence of God. Thus, God becomes the ultimate mover and shaker of history at any rate.2 The providential concept of the historical process became secularized within the framework based on the theory of progress in history. The origins of this theory can be traced back to the turn of the 16th and 17th century, but it was only in the Age of Reason that it was fully developed, to be subsequently modified in various ways in the 19th and 20th centuries. According to the theory of progress, which was born of fascination with the achievements of humankind in modern times, the human society advances towards ever higher levels of development, each of which is “better” than the preceding one and reflects the progress in the realm of the human spirit and human existence. A belief in constant progress was born. Riding the wave of optimism accompanying the advance towards “the truth and happiness,” Jeane Antoine Nicolas de Condorcet (1743-1794) claims in his work entitled The Outline of the Picture of Progress of the Human Spirit in History that the history of humankind shows a clear line of progress, a fact which is due to the “human nature.” Through his actions, man can ensure the continuation of this line of progress. He can even accelerate its advance using the knowledge “about what he was in the past and what he is today,” but he cannot undo the progress already made. Condorcet wrote about the goal of his work as follows: I intend to use facts and reasoning to prove that no limit to the development of human talents has been set, that the capacity of man for perfecting himself is unlimited, that his progress is independent of all powers that wish to obstruct it and that its only limit is the limit of the existence of the globe onto which nature placed us. Indisputably, this progress is effected at a faster or slower pace, never however will it be reversed, as long as the earth occupies its place in the system of the universe, and the laws of the higher order which govern this system do not cause a decisive upheaval or such changes as a result of which humankind would no longer maintain or develop the same talents or find the same means of survival. 3

In the 19 th century, the theories of progress were based on numerous schemes of history featuring the succession of ever “better” epochs. These theories appear in two basic versions:

2 3

Cf. Maritain (1957). Condorcet (1957), p. 5.

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(i) positivist-evolutionist, (ii)Hegelian. The scope of the present contribution does not allow a more detailed examination of these theories. For the sake of our analysis, however, it is important to focus on the type of determinism of human actions which they assume. Whereas human actions are again considered as conscious and purposeful within the framework of the theory of progress, they nevertheless constitute a fragment of a specific external mechanism upon which they ultimately depend. Those who epitomize the first of the mentioned theories include not only Condorcet, whom we quoted earlier but also Auguste Comte (1798-1857), in a later period. Comte believed that humankind progresses through three stages of development, i.e., the theological, metaphysical and positivist stage. George Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770-1831) developed a concept which, while dialectical in nature, is nonetheless based on metaphysical dialectics, which considers history as a creation of the self-conscious spirit. Critical of Hegel’s non-activistic understanding of the historical process, Marx wrote that Hegel: “wants to write the history of the development of an abstract substance, idea . . . therefore human activity, etc., must appear to be a manifestation and effect of something else.”4 Marx consistently opposed the Hegelian interpretation of determinism of human actions, in which man appears to controled by the forces of history. As we will argue below, there is no room for fatalistic implications in Marx’s view. Generally speaking, the role of human activity in history is limited in all those framework which make human actions dependent on various external forces (viewed either in positivist terms or in the spirit of Hegelian hypostases). This role can be compared to oscillating around a line which is determined by factors that are beyond human control. The fatalistic category should also include some interpretations of the historical process to be encountered in Marxist literature which are influenced either by Hegel’s ideas, or by evolutionism and positivism. They are connected with the concept of “objective” laws in history. These laws can be “discovered” and this discovery makes it possible for people to better attune their actions to the way such laws operate. External conditions are thus seen as influencing human consciousness in a strictly naturalistic way. The relationship between the former and the latter is also one-directional and does not take into account the active role 4

Marx and Engels (1960), p. 319.

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of consciousness, which after all shapes these conditions as the driving force behind human activity. A comparison could be made in such a view with the way a thermometer operates: the responses of people to external conditions could be said to be analogous to the way a thermometer “reflects” the temperature of the surroundings. It follows from such a concept that all people responding to the same conditions should therefore be acting in the same way. We know, however, that this is not the case (irrespective of the variations caused by different psychological responses of particular human beings). As in other types of fatalistic concepts which account for human actions as conscious and purposeful but determined externally only in one direction, we are dealing here with the following system of relations: SFz = where ‘SFz’ denotes the external type of the fatalist system. 5. The Concepts of Unconscious Motivation The emphasis placed on the conscious and purposeful nature of human actions first attracted the criticism of the school of psychoanalysis in psychology which, needless to say, was founded by Sigmund Freud (1856-1939). Later, it continued to be questioned by subsequent schools of reformed psychoanalysis, in particular by the trend represented by Erich Fromm (b. 1900). The above-mentioned concepts were based on the claim that the essential motives of human actions are those which are not realized by people (and which may be unconscious or subconscious), whereby human consciousness can at best play the role of a regulatory factor. In this case, we are dealing with the following system of relations: SFw = and in the case of mixed concepts with SFm = According to Freud’s concept, which is clearly naturalistic, unconscious instincts and drives are, needless to say, regarded as exerting essential influence on human actions. These actions are connected with the processes of repression, suppression, relieving and sublimation of complexes. Freud ascribes essential importance to the complexes of sexual nature (libido), giving prominence to the so-called Oedipus complex (hostility towards the father, a sense of guilt and fear of

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punishment caused by the child’s sexual drive being directed towards the mother). The way in which these complexes are resolved predetermines the whole subsequent course of human life. Freud’s theory provoked some measure of interest among historians. Even today, attempts to explain history in psychoanalytic terms can still be encountered (e.g., in American literature). Only recently, Rudolph Binion, a well-known advocate of such an approach, published a paper concerning the conduct of Leopold III and Belgian neutrality during the Second World War.5 The publication demonstrates the extent to which even a historian that is endowed with a sharp and inquisitive mind can be led astray by a flawed theory. Having asserted that Leopold III was the driving force behind Belgian neutrality in the years 1935-1940, which ultimately led to Hitler’s appeasement, Binion proceeds to delve into the private life of the king. He claims that by proclaiming neutrality Leopold III followed the precepts of his father, Albert I, whom he “worshipped,” and who earlier did the same thing a quarter of a century. Leopold also did his best to imitate his father in everything, which Binion interprets as symptoms of Leopold’s Oedipus complex amplified after the tragic death of the father. These problems were compounded by Leopold’s own tragic experience in the Swiss village of Kuessnacht in 1935, when he caused a car accident which killed his wife, Queen Astrid. Since then, the king supposedly projected his personal tragedy onto the national and international scale, imagining himself to be the driver who steers the course of his country and who should avoid another disaster, i.e., the war. Professor Binion asserts in his conclusion that “it was the Kuessnacht accident which in fact determined royal policy in 1935-1940, which was critical for the history of Belgium, and was even an integral part of the Nazi pre-history of the war.” 6 In Binion’s opinion the future path of historical research is bound to “follow Freud” for whom adult thoughts and behavior are effects of childish motives transposed to the current situation. It supposedly happened in the case of Leopold, when the resurgent subconscious sense of guilt reawakened by the tragic death of Albert I brought about the conscious imitation of the father, which was compounded simultaneously by the subconscious “re-living” of the car crash in Kuessnacht. This kind of mimicry supposedly affected the policies of the king and consequently of Belgium, thus co-determining the international situation.

5 6

Binion (1969), pp. 213-259. Ibid., p. 256.

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Fromm epitomizes the mixed concept that was referred to above. Abandoning considerations of subconscious instincts or complexes studied in isolation from any social context, he stresses the importance of complexes or psychological mechanisms that are determined, as he puts it, “by the way of life of a given society.” 7 In fact, this constitutes only a modification of the concept of unconscious compulsive motivation. Just as all other advocates of psychoanalysis, Fromm upholds the validity of the essential premise that people are motivated by unconscious forces embedded deeply in the human psyche, and that it is these compulsive motivations which spur us into action and evoke emotions. He means that human motivation has a compulsive as opposed to responsive character or, in other words, that it does not constitute a response to the properties of the environment. Whereas Freud believed that taboos and conflicting drives inherited from prehistoric man in biological terms are the source of the mechanisms of compulsive motivation that are characteristic of the human psyche, Fromm holds the view that from about the 16 th century onwards such mechanisms have been consequences of monopolistic capitalism. At this juncture, Fromm points to a sado-masochistic mechanism which supposedly controls people living in capitalism. Thus, normal human behavior is deemed to have been neurotic ever since the emergence of capitalism, being determined by unconscious compulsive mechanisms. Fromm writes about “Marx’s tragic mistake,” in ignoring “the great truth” discovered by Freud, i.e., the conviction that people are by nature profoundly irrational beings motivated by the unconscious forces of their psyche. Using this new concept, Fromm made an attempt to explain the spread of Nazism in Germany. His views, presented in the celebrated book Escape from Freedom (first edition 1940), are interesting, inspiring and stimulating (like many of Freud’s ideas) but they are nonetheless based on a generally unsound idea and as such create only an illusion of explanation. Whereas people in Fromm’s view are affected by the circumstances, they do not put their knowledge about these circumstances into use when taking actions, their historical consciousness being an essential component of such knowledge. One is unlikely to explain the spread of Nazism without a profound investigation of the fabric of the great myth which has grown around the personalities of Frederick the Great and Bismarck (German “superiority,” obedience to the state, etc.) and which determined specific structures of thinking and consciousness as well as motivated the actions of the people who were under its spell. 7

Fromm (1970), p. 276.

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The structuralism of Claude Lévi-Strauss can also be considered as one of the concepts which focus on unconscious motives as the deepest layer of the determinants of human actions. Lévi-Strauss’s declared aim is achieving such a degree of precision in the humanities as is characteristic of many of the natural sciences. Therefore, he postulates that cultures (the subject-matter of the humanities) should be considered as systems that are analogous to language, whereby language is a system which can be spoken without the speaker necessarily being aware of its grammatical rules, or being able to deliberately shape the system as such. On analogy to the way in which the linguist discovers the hidden rules of a language, the student of human actions should reach for what LéviStrauss believes to be the deepest, opinion, timeless and all-embracing structures that are common to all people (“interrelations of psychological or logical nature,” “forms” of systems i.e., formal “structures”) because they are the ultimate determinants of human actions and the course of history. The modification of psychoanalysis which the author of The Savage Mind and Structural Anthropology proposes leads in a different direction than the one advocated by Fromm. While analyzing the application of Freud’s method in the investigation of shamanism, LéviStrauss writes: We mean thereby that the traumatizing potential pertinent to a situation cannot be due to the characteristics of this situation as such, but to the potential of some events happening in an appropriate psychological, historical and social context to trigger the crystallization of emotions, whose forms are provided by the already existing structure [emphasis by J.T.]. Such structures, or speaking more precisely: structural laws [i.e., internal functional determination of the whole; footnote by J.T.] are in fact timeless when compared with a time-span of an event or an anecdote . . . The Unconscious ceases to be thereby a peculiar refuge of oddity, a repository of the unique history which makes each one of us an irreplaceable entity. It is reduced to a term which we use to describe some function: a symbolic function which is no doubt specifically human, but performed by all people according to the same laws and in fact embodying all such laws. 8

In order to reach these timeless structures (or, to use Lévi-Strauss’s terms, “the unconscious structures” which are “essentially identical for all minds: ancient and modern, primitive and civilized”9), the “inventory of unconscious possibilities” 10 which form the “logical architecture of historical processes”11 must be abstracted from the social phenomena

8

Lévi-Strauss (1970), p. 281. Ibid., p. 77. 10 Ibid., p. 80. 11 Ibid,. p. 80. 9

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which are “results of events and reflections,”12 with the historical viewpoint being used only as a secondary consideration. Lévi-Strauss analyzes the celebrated assertion from Marx’s Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte: “It is people who create history, but they don’t create it at will,” claiming that the first clause points to the conscious actions, while the second supposedly to his “structuralist” approach (i.e. to unconscious structures). Such interpretation, however, is fundamentally unsound. As we will demonstrate below, it is not legitimate within the framework of Marxist activism to consider the negation of “creating history at will” as tantamount to creating history in an “unconscious” way. Such an interpretation would turn the activistic message of Marx’s formula upside down. One could not talk about history being created by people if these people were controlled by “structures.” 6. Activistic Concepts We have seen that all the concepts of the historical process sharing the fatalistic characteristics look for determinants of human actions which are independent of human consciousness; the changes in the historical process are thereby considered in isolation from the conscious human activity. Against the background of these fatalistic concepts, which are deliberately analyzed from this vantage point, the contrasts with the concept of Marxist activism become clearly visible. The most essential characteristic of Marxist activism and its fundamental novelty consists in such a combination of external (i.e., objective) determinants of human actions and their subjective structure of motivation which does not jeopardize the activistic message of Marx’s assertion about people creating history. Only such an activistic interpretation makes people real “architects” of history and eliminates the need for delving into the spurious depths of complexes, neuroses or timeless structures that are common to all people and determined by a specific morphology of the human brain. Marxist activism is opposed to fatalism, although quite frequently it has been accused of having such characteristics (both by opponents of Marxism and by Marxists who erroneously interpret Marx). Needless to say, such charges were opposed by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels as well as Vladimir Lenin, the latter being one of few Marxist theoreticians who both fully understood and creatively developed the activistic contents of Marx’s ideas. Lenin wrote: “Even the most basic 12

Ibid., p. 80.

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premises of Marx’s theory of history refute the trite charge of fatalism.”13 Poking fun at the theories of the “vicious circle of history” or “elemental forces” Lenin pointed out, as Marx and Engels had done before him, that these forces are always embodied in the actions of people (classes and individuals). The concepts of the historical process that were promulgated by Joseph Stalin, particularly in his Dialectical and Historical Materialism, constitute a fatalist distortion of Marxism. Stalin put historical materialism in a schematic straitjacket. His law of “necessary compatibility” was hailed as the law of “unavoidable succession of definite stages of development” and an unfailing mechanism which determines the course of history. It was a concept of a clearly finalist character, which in its essence did not differ from the historiosophic concepts of yore.14 To be sure, Marx, Engels or Lenin used expressions such as ‘necessary’ or ‘unavoidable’. There is, however, a fundamental difference between the fatalist interpretation of the term ‘necessity’ and the one which was accepted by Marx. Marx himself lashed out at those who attributed finalist implications to him (and, for example, compared his concept to Comte’s) by applying the determinist interpretation of the term ‘necessity’ (e.g., if A then B). The three following theses are characteristic of Marxist activism in particular: (i) the thesis about the dual nature of human actions and their effects, i.e., treating human actions on the one hand as results of conscious decisions made by individuals with the intention of achieving a specific aim and, on the other hand, as having specific objective results, which may not always (or even seldom – in terms of the resultants of actions of many individuals and groups) be the same as the aims subjectively intended by the individuals in question (who generally do not set such long-term aims), (ii) the thesis about the two-directional (that is symmetrical) relation between the conditions of human actions and these actions, (iii) the thesis about an active role of the consciousness of the acting individuals in determining the aims and methods of actions.

13

Lenin (1984, p. 198), a review of the book by K. Kautsky entitled Bernstein und das sozialdemokratische Programm. 14 Cf. the discerning analysis of this problem in: Pelletier and Goblot (1969), pp. 69ff.

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If we tried, on analogy to the previous concepts, to represent these theses in the framework of a system of relations, they would take the following form: ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅

the set of elements which form the conditions of human actions (E), the set of human actions, which are conscious and purposeful (Dc), human consciousness (C), the relation of two-directional conditioning between the conditions of actions and the conscious and purposeful actions (Rzw ), relation of multifarious conditioning between the conditions of actions and the consciousness (Rww ).

This system can be represented in the following symbolic form, assuming that SA denotes the activistic system: SA = If one recollects the Marxist analysis of labor, which is treated on the one hand as purposeful human activity, and on the other as a source of value, or takes into consideration the fact that products of human labor take on the form of commodities irrespectively of individual purposeful productive acts, one is bound to realize the existence of two aspects of human activity which form a mutually conditioning system (although diachronic in nature, i.e., that one generation through the results of its actions creates the conditions of actions for the generations which follow). The problems of objectifying or alienating human activity and its products, which are so extensively discussed in the Marxist literature, will not be taken up in our analysis. Already in their Holy Family (1845), Marx and Engels clearly emphasized the unity of the historical process and of purposeful human activity: History does not do anything on its own, “it does not abound in riches,” “it does not fight any wars.” It is not so much history as human beings – actual, real-life human beings – who do everything, who own everything, who fight all the wars; history does not use human beings as means to achieve its own goals, as if history was some sort of being in its own right; history is nothing else but the activity of human beings pursuing their goals. 15

Almost half a century later, F. Engels writes in a similar vein in his celebrated letter to Joseph Bloch:

15

Marx and Engels (1961), p. 114.

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History comes about in such a way that the final outcome results from the constant conflicts between the wills of many individuals, the will of each individual being in turn conditioned by a multitude of particular circumstances of their lives. In this way, out of the immeasurable multitude of crossing forces, out of the immeasurable number of parallelograms of forces, one resultant is born: a historical event. 16

While the problem of the dual nature of human activity is in general quite aptly understood within the Marxist framework, the problem of interpreting the role of consciousness in human actions (and thus in the historical process) turns out to be more complex: an incorrect interpretation of such a role was the main cause of the fatalistic deformations within the framework of Marxism which we analyzed earlier. But if we focus on the relation (so often emphasized by Marx) of the mutual (dialectical) conditioning between the conscious and purposeful human actions and the conditions of such actions (i.e., the effects of such actions performed while interacting with the specific natural environment) such procedure will allow us to approach this problem from the correct vantage point, that is without considering human actions (even conscious and purposeful ones) as conditioned in only one direction: conditions of actions

→ consciousness → actions

Such an approach constitutes, however, only a part of Marx’s activistic analysis of the human actions and the historical process. The case in point here is that man through his activity creates the conditions of his actions, and thus the historical process (he changes the world); simultaneously in the course of such actions he also changes himself. As early as in Theses on Feuerbach (1845), Marx wrote: The materialistic teaching which professes that people are products of circumstances and upbringing, and thus that people who have changed are products of changed circumstances and different upbringing, tends to forget that circumstances are changed by these very people and that the one who brings up others must first be brought up himself. 17

Antonio Gramsci, who understood the activistic quality of Marxism, expressed this relationship in the following way: Man does not interact with nature by only being part of nature . . . These relations are not mechanical. They are active and conscious, i.e., they depend on the individual’s better or worse understanding of them. Consequently, it can be said

16 17

Marx and Engels (1949), p. 467. Ibid., p. 383.

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that man changes and transforms himself only in so far as he changes and transforms the entirety of relations of which he is the hub. 18

Another question arises at this juncture, namely: what place does consciousness occupy in the relation of mutual conditioning of purposeful human actions on the one hand and external circumstances (effects) on the other? What does the thesis about the active role of consciousness in this relationship actually mean? Because it is not true, as is erroneously claimed by Louis Althusser for example, that such a thesis reduces the external circumstances to the factor of the human consciousness (i.e., the objective elements to the subjective one), but in fact it connects both sides dialectically. In the light of the Marxist activistic model of the historical process and human actions, the influence of external circumstances on these actions is exerted through the consciousness. The scope of this study does not allow, obviously, to analyze the wide-ranging issue of the concept of consciousness in the writings of the classics of Marxism. Needless to say, this notion – both in the sense of individual consciousness and social consciousness (as well as in the sense of its contents and function) – appears in Marx’s analyses remarkably often. For the sake of our analysis, it should suffice to point out – if we focus only on the consciousness considered from the point of view of its function – that consciousness makes it possible for human beings to act purposefully, in other words to consciously shape the reality. Naturally, two elements are indispensable for purposeful activity: the knowledge about the conditions of actions and some hierarchy of values (norms) determined by a given individual subjectively deciding about the priority among the goals to be pursued. Two strata can be distinguished within this knowledge about the conditions of acting: the current and the historical one. Current knowledge would be very limited and incomplete if it were not connected with historical knowledge, in other words with the awareness of the existence of some traditionally recognized goals and ways of pursuing them as well as with the awareness of a shared past which unites human groups. Human beings choose their goals and ways of achieving them in accordance with their hierarchy of values and their knowledge about the conditions of their actions (in order to satisfy their various and changing needs). The more comprehensive and adequate their knowledge of these conditions, the more rational the choice of goals, and the more effective the action. Because the limits of expansion and improvement of such 18

Gramsci (1961), p. 40.

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knowledge depend principally on the individual in question, she/he has the ability (if we assume that the individual is rational) to constantly search for and verify alternative choices for his/her actions. The process of accumulating this knowledge is never finished and the conditions themselves are only some of the objective factors to be taken into account by the acting subject. In order to act effectively, people must take these conditions into account (i.e., employing their knowledge about these conditions) but it does mean that the conditions determine the actions. Only in this way one can explain the long-term ineffectiveness (or even irrationality that is clearly visible ex post) of some of people’s actions (i.e., actions of groups, classes). It turns out in such cases that the actions in question were based on inadequate and often mythical knowledge about these conditions (i.e., were not based on the reliable knowledge of the past). Germans that were deceived by persistent Nazi propaganda could be a case in point, when they followed Hitler to the bitter end. As mentioned before, Fromm tried to explain it by transferring the rationale of their actions into the sphere of the unconscious. A superb illustration of the decision-making process outlined above can be found in Marx’s Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte (1869). In the preface to the second edition of this book, which is essential for understanding Marx’s idea of activism, Marx clearly defines his own methodological model, remarking that this problem was also analyzed in (among “the more important books”) Victor Hugo’s Napoléon le Petit and Pierre Joseph Proudhon’s Coup d’état, which were published almost simultaneously. Marx writes: Victor Hugo does not go beyond the bitter and witty invective leveled against the perpetrator of the coup d’état. The event itself is presented as a bolt from the blue. For him it is only an act of violence perpetrated by an individual. Hugo does not see that, by attributing to this individual the power of initiative that is unheard-of in the history of the world. He does not diminish him in any way; on the contrary, he aggrandizes him. Proudhon, on the other hand, tries to present the coup as the result of an earlier historical development. Yet the historical structure of the coup imperceptibly changes into a historical eulogy of its perpetrator. Proudhon makes the same mistake as our so-called objective [Marx’s emphasis] historians. For my part, I am showing how the class struggle [Marx’s emphasis] in France created the circumstances and relations which allowed a very mediocre and grotesque individual to play the role of a hero. 19

One can easily see that Marx outlines three distinct models of explaining human actions: (i) the voluntarist model of Victor Hugo, 19

Marx (1949), pp. 5-6.

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(ii) the fatalistic model of Proudhon, (iii) the dialectical model pointing to the active role of consciousness in human actions. Although pure voluntarism, i.e., attributing historical changes to the will of individuals, only very rarely appears as a philosophical standpoint (Schopenhauer or Nietzsche could be the cases in point), nevertheless it can be fairly frequently encountered in historiography as a consequence of the lack of theoretical basis of research. The first of the listed models typifies such voluntarist activism. Proudhon, on the other hand, relates human actions directly to the historical conditions, which in practice also leads to voluntarist interpretations (obviously, Proudhon is not the only one to do so). In contrast to them, Marx analyzes the way in which specific systems of knowledge and valuation that are responsible for these actions are related to both the specific classes and social group and Louis Bonaparte himself. Marx showed that the state, represented in this case by Bonaparte, was supported by the most numerous class of the French society, that is by the smallholders. How can uniform decisions to support Bonaparte made by such a vast number of smallholders be accounted for? Marx first analyzes the living conditions of these peasants writing that “their mode of production isolates them from one another . . . In this way the essential mass of the French people is formed by a simple sum of equal entities, more or less in the same way as all the potatoes in a sack form the total of a sack of potatoes.” 20 The uniformity of their political decisions was thus connected with some common characteristics of their consciousness in terms of its historical value. “The historical tradition,” writes Marx “engendered a superstitious belief among the French peasants that a man named Napoleon will shower them with all sorts of benefits.” 21 They meant by this first and foremost the defense of their smallholdings. Such action was obviously based on mythical and distorted knowledge which could not provide a basis for effective and dynamic action. The minds of most smallholders, Marx remarks, “were still to such an extent clouded by illusions that even in the departments which were considered as mostly leaning towards the reds, the peasant populace openly voted for Bonaparte.”22 Bonaparte on his part, keen as he was to gain the support of various groups and classes, prevaricated in a way which made his actions seem 20

Ibid., p. 113. Ibid., p. 113. 22 Ibid., p. 115. 21

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inconsistent. “This man’s task was full of contradictions,” Marx adds, “and this explains the inconsistencies of his policies; his vague, hesitant, groping steps to win over and humiliate by turns this or that class as a result of which he repelled in equal measure all of them.” 23 As we have seen, the standpoint of activism applied in accordance with the empirical facts of history leaves enough room for the initiative and creative role of an individual, which underscores the relevance of the assertion that man is the creator of history. translated by Katarzyna Radke REFERENCES Binion, R. (1969). Repeat Performance: A Psychoanalytical Study of Leopold III and Belgian Neutrality. History and Theory 8, 213-259. Condorcet, A.N. (1957). Szkic obrazu postępu ducha ludzkiego poprzez dzieje [An Outline of the Picture of the Progress of the Human Spirit through History]. Warszawa: PWN. Fromm, E. (1970). Ucieczka od wolności [Escape from Freedom]. Warszawa: Czytelnik. Goblot, J.J., A. Pelletier (1969). Matérialisme historique et histoire des civilisations. Paris: Éditions Sociales. Gramsci, A. (1961). Pisma wybrane, t. I [Selected Works, vol. 1]. Warszawa: Książka i Wiedza. Lenin, W. I. (1984). Dzieła, t. IV [Works, vol. 4]. Warszawa: Książka i Wiedza. Lévi-Strauss, C. (1970). Antropologia strukturalna [Structural Anthropology]. Warszawa: Czytelnik. Maritain, J. (1957). On the Philosophy of History. New York: Scribner. Marx, K. (1949). 18 Brumaire’a Ludwika Bonaparte [Eighteenth of Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte]. Warszawa: Książka i Wiedza. Marx, K., F. Engels (1949). Dzieła Wybrane, t. II [Selected Works, vol. 2]. Warszawa: Książka i Wiedza. Marx, K., F. Engels (1960). Dzieła, t. I [Works, vol. 1.]. Warszawa: Książka i Wiedza. Marx, K., F. Engels (1961). Święta Rodzina [The Holy Family]. In: Dzieła, t. II [Works, vol. II]. Warszawa: Książka i Wiedza. Ranke, L.v. (1885). Vorrede zur ersten Ausgabe “Geschichten der romanischen und germanischen Voelker von 1494 bis 1414.” Leipzig: Dunker & Humblot.

23

Ibid., p. 120.

Leszek Nowak CLASS AND INDIVIDUAL IN THE HISTORICAL PROCESS

1. Methodological Assumptions 1.1. The Two Problems Concerning the Role of the Individual in History The question regarding the nature of the role played by an individual in history may be conceived either as a philosophical or as an outlook problem. In the former case we ask about the significance of an individual’s conduct in the actual historical process. In the latter, instead, we ask how the process should proceed, if such and such values concerning the human being are to be satisfied. In the first case we try to model the actual historical process in order to state which of its characteristic depend, and to which extent, on the possible individual decisions. In the second case we attempt to model a desired process having regard for definite values concerning the individual. Certainly, both deserve careful analysis. Yet, one should not mix them – despite the misleading suggestions arising from the language of the humanities admitting “descriptive/prescriptive” formulas like “the power originates out of the will of the people,” “alienation disappears in the classless society,” etc. The problem of the role of the individual in the historical process will be considered here as a philosophical, and not as an outlook, question. This seems to correspond to the methodological order of problems: on has to know first the actual state of affairs and only then the appropriate axiological question can be sensibly formulated. 1.2. The Two Dimensions of the Role of the Individual in History The problem under consideration presupposes more general assumptions dealing with the relationship between the “global entities” and “singular entities” in the social domain. It seems to be worthwhile I distinguish between the two dimensions in order for the relationship in question to be dwelt upon. First is the following: whether the global entities (the class, In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 63-84. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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the nation, etc.) exist independently from the singular entities (the individuals, their actions, etc.)? According to existential holism the global entities exist in the same way as the singular beings do. On the other hand, existential individualism claims that there exist only particular individuals, their deeds and the effects of human activity, and what are commonly called “global entities” are nothing but properties of, relations among, individuals. Let us refine this distinction a little. Let us call an attribute a property or a relation, and distinguish between attributes of the first order pertaining to individuals (people, their acts and results of the latter), attributes of the second order pertaining to those of the first order, etc. The “attributes of the first order” will abbreviated as the singular attribute, and the attribute of the second, third, etc. as the global attribute. One may say now that existential holism maintains there are two types of social beings, the individuals and the global entities, and correspondingly, it admits the two hierarchies of attributes pertaining to them. On the other hand, existential individualism claims there is only one type of social beings, the individuals, and one hierarchy of attributes pertaining to them; what is termed “global entities” is identified here with some global properties or relations, that is, with some “constructs” built over individuals. The second dimension of the relationship between the “singular” and the “global” entities is not existential in nature. The problem referred to is which are the most significant for social phenomena: their singular or global attributes? In other words, whether principal (the most influential for the largest class of phenomena) factors are the attributes of individuals or the attributes of global entities? Essential individualism claims that the principal factors for social phenomena are singular attributes of individuals or the attributes of the global entities of some kind.1 This opposition2 has a clear methodological importance as in the 1 The distinction in question refers to the idea underlying the distinction between ontological and methodological individualism (Goldstein 1958, pp. 1-11) but the way of explication of the idea which is adopted here is different. First of all, the two distinctions are being made on different planes. Not only existential individualism (resp. holism) but also essential individualism (resp. holism) can be grasped ontologically – when they are treated as the description of components or of the structure of reality. The same positions can be, however understood methodologically – when they are treated, for instance, as characteristics of the language of (the present or the only possible) science. The formulations given in the text are expressed ontologically. Here it is, for instance, the methodological formulation of first stand (that of both existential and essential individualism): in the present (resp. only possible) scientific theories, there occur only variables ranging over individuals and in the initial (the most idealized) models of theories there occur only names of the singular attributes of individuals. Therefore, taking

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first case the initial (most idealized) model of (an individualist) social theory contains only singular magnitudes and in the second case a (global) theory of the kind begins by introducing global variables (the global attributes of individuals or the attributes of global being) and eliminating the singular attributes by the force of abstraction. The problem of the role of the individual in history understood in its existential dimension is whether individuals are the only existing subjects in history. The problem, conceived essentially, is the question of what is more influential in history: the direct characteristics of individuals (their singular attributes) or the interpersonal structures the individuals are involved in, or perhaps even trans-individual beings they somehow fall under? Combining the two dimensions one obtains four types of conceptions of the historical process. The radical (both existential and essential), individualism claims there is only one type of subject in the historical process, viz. the individual, and that his singular attributes are principal into account not only the ontological but also the methodological plan of discourse we would have to formulate not four but eight positions. Moreover, the conceptual apparatus which is employed here presupposes, as I tried to argue elsewhere (Nowak 1971, pp. 311-338), a model of explanation which differs from that of Popper-Hempel in that it does not refer, in its basic form, to the notion of deductibility but to that of concretization (of idealization statement). The relation of deductive entailment is treated as secondary and introduced only in one of the derivative forms of the idealizational model of explanation (Nowak 1980). In consequence, e.g., the position of essential individualism (in its methodological paraphrase) says that all (confirmed) social theories can be reconstructed as follow: the initial, most idealized, model contains only laws ascribing singular attributes to individuals whereas at least some of the derivative models can contain their concretizations ascribing global attributes to individuals. As it appears, the standard formulation (all confirmed social theories are logically reducible to those ascribing singular attributes to individuals) is logically stronger than the proposed one. And this is to be (somehow) noted as one of the drawbacks of the standard formulation of the thesis of individualism; that it is too rigorous (cf. Mandelbaum 1957, p. 224) 2 It would be perhaps of some use to add that the term ‘essentialism’ is employed here in the meaning different than the following one: “methodological essentialism” claims that “scientific research must penetrate to the essence of things in order to explain them” (Popper 1967, p. 28). For the latter presupposes that the essence (1) is an absolute property of things, (2) is unchangeable, (3) is established by analysis of notions which (4) leads to the ultimate, irrefutable explanation (Popper 1965, pp. 18ff; 1982, pp. 20ff). Meanwhile, the stand adopted here presupposes that the “essence” (the system of principal factors for a given one) (1) is a relative property of factor (magnitude), (2) changes in time, (3) is discovered in a certain type of statement, namely idealizational one, but (4) never definitively as they are hypotheses only being better or worse confirmed (via concretization and approximation) by empirical tests (Nowak 1980; and 1977, pp. 341-363).

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parameters of it. According to the second stand, existential individualism and essential holism in the historical process only appear but principal parameters of it are their global attributes. The third position, existential holism and essential individualism, admits the two types of beings in the historical process: individual and global social entities but says at the same time that the main role in it is played by the singular attributes of the individuals. The radical (both existential and essential) holism admits the two types of social entities as well but claims that the principal parameters of the historical process are either the global attributes of individuals or the attributes of global entities.3 1.3. The Methodological Status of the Rules of Individualism (Holism) The methodological role one ascribes to the above positions, and their possible enlargements,4 depends on one's general methodological ideas5 concerning the theory of historical process. According to the view assumed here,6 the theory of historical process cannot be any kind of inductive generalization of histories of particular countries,7 nor the set of factual hypotheses reconstructing the mechanism of the actual history in its whole complexity, but a model of it allowing drastic deformation of what actually happens. More accurately, it is the first, the most idealized 3 It is not my intention here to discuss the famous stands in the individualism/holism debate as this would force us to make a detailed comparison of different conceptual apparatuses employed in it. This is, however, a separate talk (see above, footnote 1) and therefore I shall limit myself to several comments. And so, let us notice that Homan’s position (1967, pp. 35ff) can perhaps be reconstructed in our terms as the radical, both existential and essential, individualism. Instead, Popper’s formulations of individualism (1966, pp. 91, 226; 1967, p. 136) admit the double interpretation. They can be reconstructed either as the radical individualism (this seems to be Watkins’ line, 1959, p. 504) or as the existential individualism and essential holism (this in turn seems to agree with Gallie’s position, 1964, pp. 419ff). Similarly, Mandelbaum’s formulations can be identified either with the radical, both existential and essential, holism (1957, pp. 211ff; 1959, part 3) or with the existential holism and essential individualism (1957, p. 223). 4 Needless to say, the proposed typology is far too simple to be able to do justice to all the stands that appear in the individualism/holism debate. For a possible endeavor of this kind it would be necessary to enrich the typology in question with some additional, ‘subindividual’, dimensions (Lukes 1968, part 2; Jarvie 1972, p. 36), to reinterpret in the proposed terms the distinction between definitional and explanatory individualism (Brodbeck 1958, pp. 1-22), between the distributive and collective reduction to (singular attributes of) individuals (Wisdom 1970), etc. 5 Mine are based on the idealizational approach to science as exposed in the writings quoted in footnote 1. 6 This is discussed at length in chapter I of my (1987). 7 Let us notice that in the theory of historical process inductivism is a quite spread methodological stand.

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model(s) of historical process (processes) that admits numerous idealizing conditions neglecting parameters of the historical process considered to be secondary and in the further models of the theory those simplifications are step by step removed and appropriate corrections of the body of the initial hypotheses are being introduced. If the theory is correct, the sequence of the models of increasing concreteness (an of decreasing abstractness) gives more and more complete and precise explanations of the trends that actually occur. So conceived, the method of historiosophy is of the same type as that of theoretical natural sciences.8 In particular, actually this method was applied in Marxian historical materialism which is a rather complicated hierarchy of model of historical processes.9 For an idealizational theory one of the most important questions to decide is what is, and what is not, to be abstracted from. Decisions of the type are based on some rules of essential stratification telling a theoretician what types of factors are principal for the investigated variables – and must be then included into the body of “independent variables” from the very beginning, i.e., as early as in the initial model of the theory – and what types of factors are of the secondary character and can be initially abstracted from.10 Usually, the rules of essential stratification are grounded on some philosophical assumptions.11 This is what takes place in our case: the above mentioned four views of social philosophy justify the rules of essential stratification telling a social theoretician what kinds of factors are to be included, and what kinds are to be abstracted from when constructing the first, initial model of a theory of the historical process. A rule of essential stratification can be discussed by reference either to its philosophical presuppositions as such or to the theoretical conclusions it leads to. The problem of the role of the individual in history will be considered here in the second way. A certain (fragment of) theory of 8

For a larger explanation cf. Nowak (1983), pp. 3ff, 10ff, 226-227. Cf. the papers by Burbelka (1975); Klawiter (1975); Łastowski (1975) and Nowak (1975); and papers collected in Nowak (1982). Let us notice that the position of the creators of Marxism as to the question discussed here sometimes ambiguous. It seems to be beyond the (reasonable) doubt that they were accepting essential holism. But some of their formulations suggest existential individualism (Marx and Engels 1973, pp. 20-21; Marx 1971, p. 16), whereas some others can be easily interpreted in terms of existential holism (Marx and Engels 1973, p. 36; Marx 1971, p. 77). 10 Cf. a discussion of the status of the rules of essential stratification in Nowak (1980, pp. 12ff). 11 Needless to say, this is not any justification of the rules of essential stratification as this can be given only by an empirical success of the theories which are based on them (Nowak 1980, pp. 214ff). 9

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historical process will be outlined in order to reveal the rule of essential stratification it is based upon. What confirms historically that theory can be then said to confirm indirectly its philosophical assumptions, in particular those concerning the role of the individual in the historical process modeled in the theory in question. 2. Substantial Assumptions: A Fragment of a Theory of Historical Process 2.1. Non-Marxian Historical Materialism Needless to say, the theory, called non-Marxian historical materialism, can be presented here in a very sketchy and fragmentary manner; for a larger and more precise exposition I have to refer to other places.12 Its main idea is that there are three class divisions upon the disposers of some material means of domination – of production, of coercion and of indoctrination – and the rest of a society: owners/direct producers, rulers/citizens, priests/indoctrinated. Therefore, the class societies with the three classes of disposers separated from one another (like slave, feudal, and capitalist systems) are to be distinguished from supraclass societies with multiplied class divisions. And so, fascism is a supraclass society with the double class of rulers-priests and the singular class of owners and (“real”) socialism is a supraclass society with the triple class of rulers-owners-priests. It is one of the main theses of non-Marxian historical materialism that the last form of class society, the capitalist one, is transformed into socialism with the class of triple-lords. A triplelord is a ruler of a special kind, it is a ruler who thanks to force takes charge also of the disposal of the means of production and of indoctrination. The decisive point for a socialist society is, then, not that of ownership but that of political power. If so, the triple-lords can be – in the “first approximation” – modeled as the rulers. This requires an inspection into the materialist nature of power.

12

Nowak (1983; 1987); in the latter work (its Polish version appeared in the independent publisher, Aneks, Przyjaciel Nauk. Studia z teorii i krytyki społecznej, vols. 1-2, Wrocław, 1985) the ideas concerning the political power outlined here in a very sketchy manner are presented more precisely and systematically; the book contains also a comparative analysis of stands in the philosophy of politics.

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2.2. The Materialist Nature of Power A range of influence of a given ruler will be termed the set of actions of citizens being controlled by him or her. The sum of all the ranges of influence of particular rulers constitutes the range of regulation of the whole class of rulers. Since the competition between them forces each participant of power to enlarge his range of influence – for those who delay in doing this lose their positions and cease to be rulers at all – then the common interest of the class as a whole consists in enlarging the range of influence and is, naturally, at variance with the interest of the class of citizens. The more so, that an increase of the range of regulation necessitates the growth of the repressiveness of power. Let us call civic alienation the ratio of the number of acts controlled by some ruler (i.e., the cardinal number of the range of regulation) to the number of citizens’ acts that can be, under the attained level of means of repression and surveillance, controlled.13 It appears that the level of resistance of the class of citizens basically depends on civil alienation. Under low civic alienation the level of civic resistance is obviously low as well: someone with power who interferes in social life to a minimal degree meets minimal resistance on the part of the citizens. Contrary to appearances, the same holds under a very high level of civic alienation. A great level of regulation followed by high repressiveness by those with power leads to atomization of the citizens. And the latter excludes any type of co-ordinated, common action against power. The level of the class struggle is the highest (revolutionary), when the alienation is “middle high”: painful enough to evoke the resistance but not yet paralyzing civic society. In other words, the dependence of the level of civic struggle (defined as the percentage of citizens breaking the connections of subordination to power) on civic alienation is a bell-shaped curve with intervals of the state of class peace, of revolution and of declassing of citizens (see Fig. 1). 14 Another explanation. A sub-interval of the declassing interval is that of totalization. Let us call so, those values which civic alienation takes on, if the field of the potential control of power over citizens becomes identical with the actual range of regulation (see Fig. 2). It appears that the image of relationships between the rulers and the citizens changes in time. At the beginning terror does suppress resistance, 13

It is assumed here that the “weight” of all actions under consideration is the same, which is an obvious simplification. 14 Let us add that the curves presented here possess a mere illustrative nature as their exact meaning would require an operationalization of appropriate magnitudes.

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Level of class struggle

and inactivity of social life replaces relations of the type “citizen – citizen” with those of the “citizen – an organ of power – citizen” type, making for a long time any kind of resistance impossible.

P

R

D

T

Civil alienation

Fig. 1. The dependence of the level of class struggle on civic alienation. P – the interval of class peace; R – the revolutionary interval; D – the interval of declassing; T – the sub-interval of totalization. The field of potential control

A

The field of potential control

B The range of regulations

The range of regulations

Fig. 2. (A) The state of totalization: all citizens’ actions which can be controlled under a given level of means of coercion (repression and surveillance) are in fact controlled (B) The normal stale of the relationships “power – citizens”: only a part of actions that could be controlled under a given level of means of coercion is in fact regulated by the rulers..

Yet, after a time people learn gradually how to live in a repressive system. What they learn above all is that in such a system the only support for an individual may be given by another, that for both of them, being equally important, the most advantageous is mutual solidarity and support. Thanks to this, autonomous social relations of the “citizen – citizen” type revive again and civic society gradually comes back into existence. And the civic alienation gradually diminishes, since more and

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Level of class struggle

more actions are being undertaken by citizens outside any forms dictated by the rulers. As a result, the social ability to resist gradually increases and it reaches at last the revolutionary interval, as larger and larger categories of citizens disengage themselves from the declassing. The process of gradual revival of civic society can be presented as follows (see Fig. 3).

Civil alienation Fig. 3. The dependence on civic alienation and time of the level of class struggle of the citizens against the rulers.

2.3. Idealizing Assumptions The model of a purely political society is based on numerous simplifying assumptions. And so, it is claimed that the society under consideration is formed of two political classes only – that of disposers of means of coercion (rulers) and that of the citizens (assumption A). Thanks to this he remaining two class divisions, not to mention derivative social categories (e.g., social strata), are neglected within our model. The domain of politics is, then, treated in total isolation from the economic and the cultural processes. But the whole sphere of politics is not being accounted for within our model. The influence of the political institutions (assumption B) and of the political consciousness (assumption C) upon the political process, are neglected as well. The model is, then, built in a purely materialist manner: the only factors that are taken into account are those which are connected with the unequal disposal of means of coercion in society and with the class struggle to which the fact leads. Obviously, many other idealizing assumptions (e.g., that there is no technological progress in our abstract society, that it is the only society in the work, etc.) are silently adopted here. In general, the caeteris paribus clause is assumed: all the factors not referred to in the exposition of our models are in contradiction to the facts omitted.

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Is such idealization allowed? There is only one answer to this: to develop and to concretize the model. If it turns out that due to this some important historical processes are becoming easier to understand than before, then an argument confirming our model is found. And directly the materialist decision to omit everything which is not connected with interclass relations becomes more justified. 2.4. Class Struggle in a Purely Political Society (Model I) Let us consider how a purely political society develops through time. 2.4.1. The Increasing of Civic Alienation Let us assume that in the initial point of process a state of class peace reigns. It implies that a low range of regulation and an appropriately low level of civic resistance occurs. Yet, the competition within the class of rulers is at work which forces a typical ruler to enlarge the sphere of his own influence. Those partial activities of particular rulers lead jointly to the constant growth of the range of regulation and hence, caeteris paribus, to the incessant increase of the civic alienation which reaches, after a time, a revolutionary interval. 2.4.2. The Declassing of Citizens The revolution may be defeated, or it may be won by the citizens. In the first case, post-revolutionary terror takes place. Its social function, independent of what particular rulers want to achieve, is to crush autonomous social relations through elimination of the most socially active citizens, that is, those who are centres of especially numerous connections of a “citizen – citizen” type. Such a disarray of the autonomous social structure makes the inactivity of society possible and leads to the declassing of citizens. And actually in the state of declassing the interest of power are best satisfied: the only factor able to stop the pressure of the rulers to enlarge the range of regulation, civic resistance, is practically eliminated. That is why, the stronger those in power, the more terroristic methods they apply. Hence the post-revolutionary terror takes place when there no longer exists any danger for those in power. For it is not a military but a purely political phenomenon. 2.4.3. The Possibility of a Civic Halter In the second case, when the civic masses win, nothing significant changes at all. At least if we try to think of revolutions consistently in

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materialist terms, that is, questioning the interests of revolutionary elites; this implies also a total insensitiveness to what revolutionaries say about themselves (e.g., that their aim is liberty or social justice, etc.). The revolution seen from materialist point of view does not give any opportunities for any illusions. The revolutionaries are a political elite as they dispose of some new means of coercion; for the civic or national or red guard, and even revolting crowds, are nothing but a means of coercion. The revolutionary elite constitute then an embryo of the new class of rulers. The civic revolution is, from the materialist standpoint, simply a confrontation of the settled class of rulers and of such a class which is new, growing. This appears after the victorious revolution. In this case the revolutionary elite of power becomes a new class of rulers having a monopoly of the means of coercion. And it begins to undergo the same regularities the previous, hated regime underwent. There always appears among revolutionaries some people who love power for power’s sake and they will group in their hands more and more decisions of increasing importance, so that the “passionate revolutionaries” lose their positions among the new leaders. After a time, the latter become entirely eliminated (usually as the “enemies of the people”) and nothing disturbs the apparatchik in his paly for more and more power. This brings about an incessant increase in the range of regulation and, in effect, a new wave of class struggle directed against the new class of rulers hidden under revolutionary banners. The civic halter is completed. And again appear the same two possibilities. If the masses lose the new revolution, declassing comes into being. If they win, the second generation of revolutionaries does the same – and, after a time, the second civic halter is completed. The conclusion is that after some, at most, civic halters the citizens lose their struggle definitively and some repertory of the class of rulers carries through their declassing. Must it be so? Yes, under our assumptions it must be so. It is even obvious (theoretically, not ideologically) if we once agree that the influence of human interests (e.g., that of enlarging power) upon the behavior of great human populations is stronger than what particular individuals think of themselves and what they aim at. The conception of the civic halter is then obvious for an historical materialist. 2.4.4. Total Subjugation The liquidation of mass resistance enables the class of rulers to accelerate the process of enlarging the range of regulation. And, soon, all that which

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can be controlled becomes controlled: the system reaches the state of totalization (see Fig. 2). In such a state there are no more areas of social life to conquer. But a typical ruler must, as always, enlarge his sphere of influence. Under our assumptions (excluding the possibility of enlarging the sphere of potential control thanks to technological progress or of conquering some extraordinary range of regulation through aggression) there is only one way to keep the whole system at work: a purge. Purges eliminate some rulers and leave room for the competitive activity of the remaining ones. Purges must be periodical as after a time the competition for power leads anew to the state of totalization. Such is, and not the “madness of the despot,” the explanation of the fact that the forces of coercion are sometimes directed against the rulers themselves. Quite to the contrary, if a despot is mad, he rules because this is advantageous for the interest of the class of rulers as a whole; otherwise the whole system of power would disintegrate in the fruitless struggle every ruler was leading against others in the state of totalization. 2.4.5. The Cyclic Revolutions The salvation comes thanks to the increasing ability of the citizen masses to resist (on the strength of the dependency shown in Fig. 3). The gradual reconstruction of civic society leads to the first, still limited, revolution. Its influence on the whole class of citizens is not too great but it gives the class of rulers an opportunity to extricate itself from the state of self – subjugation resulting in incessant, periodical purges. The chance for a victory – and hence for a civic halter-is rather low, but as a result of its suppression a new, more liberal (i.e., based on a lesser range of regulation) system of power comes into existence. No political class can be, however, switched to any direction. The only direction it switches to spontaneously is the increase of its power which is an affect of the working of the same competitive mechanism within the class of rulers. On the strength of the dependency of Figure 3, however, a new revolution comes inevitably, being even less local and more significant than the first one: new categories of citizens extricate themselves from the state of declassing. Such a trend of the increasing (as to their social basis and hence also social significance) revolutions is a characteristic feature of the new phase of the development of a purely political society. Because of its growing social basis, the trend is marked also with the increasing chance of victory, that is, of a civic halter. And a civic halter means that the society repeats its historical road from the very beginning, the state of declassing and then totalization included.

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Fortunately, the chances for the victory of citizens are not too high and the normal image of the movement of the society under consideration is the following: revolution – declassing revolution on a larger social basis, etc. The leading trend is, however, the decreasing civic alienation which implies that a growing number of citizens is able to crush the chains of subordination (see Fig. 3). At some point a large majority of citizens turns out to be ready to oppose the system which influences the forces of coercion as well making a successive declassing impossible. If the civic halter is to be avoided, the only possibility for the rulers is to make concessions: the range of regulation diminishes rapidly and the sphere of the social autonomy increases correspondingly. And again the competitive mechanism forces the class of rulers to regain the lost social territories which results in the next revolution, etc. A new pattern of development comes into being: revolution – concessions – revolution on a larger social basis – increasing concessions, etc. The pattern is repeated until the state of social peace is attained, that is, until the new system of power satisfying for the citizens is gradually formed due to evolutionary corrections. If some among those revolutions wins, then begins a civic halter. The only means of effective improvement of the situation of the citizens are lost revolutions: the rulers must initiate evolutionary changes of the system (concessions) in order to avoid the next one; but if concessions are too small, they will not avoid it; and the new revolution forces them to make further concessions – but only if it is lost. Progress realizes itself through evolutionary corrections. But they are brought about through revolutions only, i.e., through those which are lost. 2.5. The Empirical Interpretation of the Model Our model may be graphically illustrated (see Fig. 4). It is extremely idealized because of not accounting for technological progress, of the institutional organization of power, i.e., the state, of international relations, etc. Some of them are accounted for in the models contained elsewhere.15 In spite of this, even this simplified model allows us to explain some empirically existing societies in the main points of their history: socialist societies. For only in those societies is the political process not disturbed by the interests of private property nor independent religion (including “mass culture”); this is the reason why the above model does not present the development of the relationships between the

15

Cf. Nowak (1981, 1986, 1987), and others.

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rulers and the citizens in feudal or slave society. Only in socialism does the political process occur almost in its pure, idealized form. That is why the history of the Soviet Union conforms roughly to model I. The starting point is a system rather close to totalitarianism. The February Revolution opens a civic halter and the masses led by the Bolsheviks resist the new power. And the Bolsheviks in October initiate the second civic halter subordinating the soviets to the cells of the communist party. Peasant upheavals and the Kronstadt revolt testify that the civic halter initiated by the Bolsheviks is completed. The phase of declassing, and next totalization, inevitably begins as a result of crushing any possibility of social protest; purges are necessary for a system to survive in a state close to totalization. The state lasts till the beginning of the nineteen-fifties when series of strikes and upheavals in the Soviet concentration camps allow the rulers to extricate themselves from the self-imposed terror. And the phase of cyclic revolutions marked with the revolts of in the early 1960s begins.

Fig. 4. The scheme of the development of the purely political society in model I. The dashed line signifies the possibility of a civic halter.

Roughly, the same pattern (see Fig. 4) may be found in the development of other socialist countries, e.g., Poland, thanks to some social peculiarities, seems to be more advanced than the Soviet Union, that is, a greater amount of lost revolutions explains that the Polish system is today much more “liberal” than the Russian one. 3. The Role of the Individual in History: Existential Individualism If the above remarks are true, the model just outlined can be treated as a highly idealized scheme of the development of the typical socialist society. The historical paths of particular societies of the type differ from that ideal pattern because of the working of very many factors that are not accounted for in it, including those of the historical nature peculiar to a given society, but there are some reasons to conjecture that they may be

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explained when the model in question is adopted as an initial one for making further, more specific corrections.16 This is what can be said in order to defend the decision to regard the model as theoretical material facilitating an understanding of the place occupied by the individual within the historical process. Needles to say, if the model turned out to be a bad idealization of the development of socialist societies, then the following arguments would be lacking that empirical support it brings. The question of the role of the individual in history understood existentially makes no special troubles provided that model I is acceptable. For model I does not presuppose any entities that would not be reducible to the individuals. Or, more precisely, to set-theoretical entities built over the individual level. Model I is concerned with the isolated pure political society that can be identified with the following system: (L, Mc, d, R, C, Ac) where L is a set of people, Mc – a set of means of coercion, d – the relation of disposal, R – a set of people disposing some means of coercion of Mc. (the class of rulers), C – the set of remaining individuals of L (the class of citizens), Ac – the civic alienation. The notions under consideration can be rather easily identified as belonging to the set of attributes built over the individuals. And so, L and Mc are simply sets of them. The relation of disposal is defined on the set L and its counterdomain is set Mc; the relation in question is anyway a relation among individual beings. This allows for introducing the following relation: person x is materialistically similar to person y if and only if both x and y are disposers of some means of set Mc or both x and y are not. It is an equivalence relation and therefore generates the dichotomous division of set L into the two classes (both in the set-theoretical and social meaning) R and C. The classes are sets of individuals and then they belong to the hierarchy of over-individual attributes. At last the notion of the civic alienation is to be discussed. The civil alienation can be identified with the ratio of the set of regulation to the set of all acts undertaken in a given time by citizens. Since an act of a citizen can be understood as a state of affairs involving him or her (and, possibly, also some other persons or things), then the civil alienation as a relation between sets of acts of citizens also may be placed within the hierarchy of over-individual attributes. The conclusion of these considerations is that none of the notions involved presupposes the existence of any extra-individual entities, and 16

Nowak (1987).

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hence assumes the thesis of existential individualism. And since there is no difference under the considered respect between the outlined fragment of non-Marxian historical materialism and the other parts of that conception, then it might be said that on the whole the conception presupposes existential individualism. As far as it can be assumed to be true, it suggests a grasp of the historical process as being composed of acts of individuals, of their results and of nothing more. In the historical process exist only individuals acting in definite conditions, and moreover the conditions are nothing (if the natural conditions composed after all of some individual entities as well are omitted) but the cumulated activities of other people and the results of acts of generations of their predecessors. The subjects of the historical process, and the only ones, are individuals. 4. The Role of the Individual in History: Essential Holism It does not follow from this by any means that “the Laws of the phenomena of society are, and can be, nothing but the laws of the actions and passions of human beings.”17 In other words, existential individualism does not imply essential individualism. For it might be that it is not the direct attributes of the individuals but the global ones that are playing the principal role in the historic process. It might be that what holds in the historical reality is existential individualism and essential holism. That is why we have to consider, on the basis of the above presented theoretical material, the nature of the influence of the individual upon the historical process. 4.1. Typical Individual and the Historical Process The answer is evident as far as a typical individual is concerned: nothing. It is beyond any doubt that an average participant of the historical process is able to decide whether he or she undertakes an arbitrary action, or not. But the influence of such a decision made by a standard participant of the process does not go beyond his direct milieu. None of the parameters of the process-and here is the list of those involved in model I: the length of particular phases (e.g., the length of that of subjugation), the number of civic halters, the number of the cycles of declassation, the number of the revolutionary cycles-depends upon any singular act of any particular, typical individual. Such parameters depend 17

Mill (1919), book VI, chap. X, p. 1.

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certainly on the mass activities: when many millions of people are striking, it might happen that some of the parameters of the historical process are being changed; but whether person A joins the strike or not, does not influence the shape of the historical process at all. Or, more strictly, it influences it in so small a degree that it is entirely negligible. And, let us add in order to avoid misunderstandings, the mass activities are not singular but global attributes of the individuals for they refer to their class membership; mass activity is then placed within global attributes of the individuals. 4.2. An Outstanding Individual and the Historical Process. An Outline of Model II of the Purely Political Society The above formulations can be, I conjecture, rather easily accepted. For what is usually meant when discussing the role of the individual in history is not that of a typical individual but of an outstanding one. Let us try to pose the question of the influence exerted by an outstanding individual in the framework of the conception summarized above. What is seen immediately is that model I is too poor to allow us to formulate the question at all. Individuals that belong to the two classes of our abstract society of model I cannot be after all differentiated as to their social role within that society. That is, both the classes are homogeneous. In particular this concerns the class of rulers: each of them is treated as being independent of each other. This is connected with the role of assumption (C) omitting the influence of the political institutions. Let us remove condition (C) accepting instead realistically that the class of rulers forms a hierarchical structure. Here are the elements of it: the ruler of the highest order, the elite of power, the political apparatus. One may distinguish different types of political systems accounting for the following criteria: whether a given system allows for the institutional channels of the control (a) of the class of rulers by the class of citizens?, (b) of the elite of power by the apparatus? (c) of the highest ruler by the rest of the elite? According to the criteria the following types of political systems can be distinguished: the type of political system democracy autocracy dictatorship despotism

(a)

(b)

(c)

yes no no no

yes yes no no

yes yes yes no

Table 1. Typology of political systems in non-Marxian historical materialism (explanations in text).

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The type of the adopted political system depends on the relation of class forces which is expressed in the notion of the civil alienation. To the state of class peace democracy is adopted best. Every other political system would increase the resistance of the citizens. Under the strong of class of the citizens the power can be democratic alone as this system actually admits the positive selection among rulers forcing them to leave the power or to become more efficient. That is why democracy allows for minimization of losses in the range of regulation. Under the further growth of the civic alienation the democratic channels of the control are to be closed. Otherwise, not only the layer of leaders but also the core of the class of rulers, viz. the apparatus, would be eliminated. That is why autocracy turns out to be the optimal form of rule then. It ceases to be so in the revolutionary interval, however. An open social struggle necessitates a uniformity of action and that is why the apparatus must submit itself to a policy of the elite. The latter must in turn reserve a control over the dictator for itself, otherwise the dictator's faults would be unrectifiable. In the postrevolutionary stage this uniformity of action is to be, preserved as the class of rulers faces the possibility of declassation of the masses. Therefore dictatorship still turns out to be the optimal form of rule. It ceases to be the most efficient means to secure the attained level of regulation as late as the threshold of totalization is reached. In such a state the greatest danger for the class of rulers proves to be the internal competition. And since every member of the elite of power is a representative of a faction including all layers of the hierarchy of power, from the top to the bottom, then preserving dictatorship in the state of totalization would contribute to the internal competition among factions for the dignity of the highest ruler. It is the interest of the class as a whole, then, to shake off all the additional factors strengthening the struggles factions lead against each other. That is why it is better for it to yield itself to the despot. A type of the political system adopts itself to the attained level of the civic alienation. The latter changes in time in a way shown in model I. Therefore, one may state that there is a natural sequence of political systems of the isolated, purely political society which is composed of the optimal forms of political institutions for the class of rulers: It is a the following:democracy/autocracy/dictatorship/despotism/dictatorship/autocracy/democracy. This holds for the no-halter variant. Appropriate modifications for one-, two-, etc., halter variants can be easily read of (see Fig. 4). This optimal line is also, in a more or less approximate manner, realized. Appropriate changes in the institutional composition of the stale can be carried out through reforms- in case they are executed by

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the elite of power, or through a political upheaval. In the latter case this can take a form of either a coup d’etat, if the highest posts become occupied by a certain new faction of the same hierarchy of power, or a political breakthrough, if a new governing team comes down from outside it.18 In both cases, however, the citizen masses remain unengaged in the developments; this is what differentiates the political upheaval from the political revolution. The mechanism of the institutional change is the following. There appears as a result of processes describes in model I – a change in the state of class forces. Hitherto existing system of power does not consolidate the strength of the power in the optimal way yet and keeping it working would contribute to the weakening of the power, that is, to additional losses in the range of regulation. The interest of the class of rulers demands then a new, more effective type of the organization of the state. If such a demand will not be satisfied by a reform, then the conditions for a coup d’etat appear. If they remain unavailed, the threat of a political breakthrough emerges. Obviously, in order to effect changes in the political system it is necessary to group a sufficiently strong faction within the hierarchy of power, or in other politically active milieu, around a definite program of political transformations. Such a program must be invented by somebody and somebody must convince others to follow it. In this way a demand for an outstanding individual comes into existence. An outstanding political leader is one who does see earlier than others, symptoms of a change in the state of social forces and recognizes the necessity of changes in the institutions constituting the existing political system. And one who, moreover, manages to gain support of a political force indispensable to carrying those objectively necessary transformations into effect. An outstanding political leader may in advance adjust the system of rule to the new state of class forces. An inept leader, in turn, may detain those objectively necessary changes, contributing in that way to a political upheaval that will adjust the formal shape of the state to the new system of social forces. And this is all that a leader can do. All he is able to influence is placed between an anticipation and a retardation of objectively indispensable changes. Those possibilities are, of course, more serious than those an average citizen has at his or her disposal as far as their possible results are concerned. Nonetheless the basic parameters of the social process of 18

I am referring here to the terminological stipulations made in: Baszkiewicz (1981), pp. 18ff.

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model I cannot be significantly changed by the activity of an outstanding political leader. The acceleration or retardation of transformations of the political system dues influence the historical process, but does not allow, for instance the avoiding of a particular phase of its development. At least such possibilities do not exist within model II. Perhaps in cooccurrence with some additional factors of a greater significance (e.g., the international relations, the economic decease, etc.), the influence of an outstanding leader could be much greater. But this would take place duo to the working of two factors with the personal influence as one of them. The personal influence as itself is accounted for in its purest form in the present model II. And, if I am not wrong, it turns out that an outstanding leader may only correct the line of development determined by more significant factors of material nature. What has been said is not a full answer for the question of the role of an outstanding individual in history. For only one problem has been accounted for in the above, viz. the role of an outstanding individual in bringing new institutions into practice. Nonetheless, it seems to be a paradigmatic case. One may namely conjecture that in general an outstanding leader can only become, ahead of what is coming into being, necessary for the interests of a social class he or she represents. It is obvious that such a stand originates within the Marxist tradition. But it seems to be an enlargement of it as Marxists operate the economic notion of a class alone attempting, in the addition to that, to interpret the political leaders as leaders of the classes in their, economistic sense. This is, however, an entire falsity as the political leaders are those of political classes first of all. 4.3. Conclusion: Existential Individualism and Essential Holism If all this is true, then one may conclude that no individual is able to influence significantly – as individual, that is, without any interaction with some additional factors-parameters of the historical process. A typical individual is unable to make in the process any changes; an outstanding one may at most bring about some agitation towards its realization. The historical role of individuals is rather secondary. This is what essential holism maintains. From the other side, the historical process does not contain any other entities than those of the individualist nature. In particular, acts of human beings constitute its, so to speak, basic substance. If all that is acceptable, then the theoretical material considered above suggests following view: the only subjects of the historical process are individuals, but not their singular but actually global attributes – in particular attributes of social

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classes – are principal factors of it. This is the view of existential individualism and of essential holism together. REFERENCES Baszkiewicz, J. (1981). Wolność, równość, własność [Liberty, Equality, Property]. Warszawa: Czytelnik. Brodbeck, M. (1958). Methodological Individualism: Definition and Reduction. Philosophy of Science 25, 1-22. Burbelka, J. (1975). On Family Development Theory in Engels: Towards a Reinterpretation. Revolutionary World 14, 116-129. Gallie, W.B. (1964). Popper and the Critical Philosophy of History. In: M. Bunge (ed.), The Critical Approach to Science and Philosophy, pp. 410-422. London: The Free Press. Gardiner, P., ed. (1959). Theories of History. Glencoe: The Free Press. Goldstein, L. (1958). The Two Theses of Methodological Individualism. British Journal for the Philosophy of Science 9, 1-11. Homans, G.C. (1967). The Nature of Social Science. New York: Harcourt. Jarvie, C. (1972). Concepts and Society. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Klawiter, A. (1975). On the Status of Historical Materialism. Revolutionary World 14, 13-30. Lukes, S. (1968). Methodological Individualism Reconsidered. British Journal of Sociology 19, 119-129. Łastowski, K. (1975). On the Problem of the Analogy Between Historical Materialism and the Theory of Evolution. Revolutionary World 14, 103-115. Mandelbaum, M. (1957). “Societal Laws.” British Journal for the Philosophy of Science 8, 211-224. Mandelbaum, M. (1959). Societal Facts. In: Gardiner (1959), pp. 476-488. Marx, K. and F. Engels (1973). Die Deutsche Ideologie, Werke, B. 3, Berlin: Dietz Verlag. Marx, K. (1971). Grundrisse (ed. by D. McLellan). London: Macmillan. Mill, J.S. (1919). A System of Logic. London: Longmans, Green & Co. Nowak, L. (1971). The Problem of Explanation in Marx’s “Capital.” Quality and Quantity 5, 311-338. Nowak, L. (1975). Theory of Socio-Economic Formation as an Adaptive Theory. Revolutionary World 14, 85-102. Nowak, L. (1977). On the Structure of Marxist Dialectics. An Attempt at the Categorial Interpretation. Erkenntnis 11, 341-363. Nowak, L. (1980). The Structure of Idealization. Toward a Systematic Interpretation of the Marxian Idea of Science. Dordrecht: Reidel. Nowak, L. (1981). Zagadnienie narodowe w nie-Marksowskim materializmie historycznym [The Problem of Nation in Non-Marxian Historical Materialism]. Poznań: WiW. Nowak, L. (1983). Property and Power. Towards a Non-Marxian Historical Materialism. Dordrecht: Reidel. Nowak, L. (1986). Ideology and Utopia. In: P. Buczkowski and A. Klawiter (eds.), Theories of Ideology and Ideology of Theories (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 9), pp. 24-52. Amsterdam: Rodopi.

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Nowak, L. (1987). A Model of Socialist Society. Studies in Soviet Thought 34, 1-55. Nowak, L., ed. (1982). Social Classes Action and Historical Materialism (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 6), Amsterdam: Rodopi. Popper, K.R. (1965). Conjectures and Refutations. New York: Harper & Row. Popper, K.R. (1966). The Open Society and Its Enemies, vol. 2. London: Routlegde & Kegan Paul. Popper, K.R. (1967). The Poverty of Historicism. London: Routlegde & Kegan Paul. Popper, K.R. (1982). Unended Quest. An Intellectual Autobiography. Glasgow: Fontana & Collins. Watkins J.W.N. (1959). Historical Explanation in the Social Sciences. In: Gardiner (1959), pp. 503-514. Wisdom, J.O. (1970). Situational Individualism and the Emergent Group Properties. In: R. Borger and F. Cioffi (eds.), Explanation in the Behavioral Sciences, pp. 271-295. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

II MODELING IN THE METHODOLOGY OF HISTORY

Jerzy Topolski IDEALIZATIONAL PROCEDURES IN HISTORY

I Science is bound to idealize: if for no other reason, then due to the simple fact that it is practically impossible to describe the world in all its factual detail and in all its possible relations. The only way out of this troublesome situation is to limit the content taken into account both in description as well as in explanation. In the case of description, this will mean a simplification of possible or current knowledge. With regard to explanation, it will amount to taking into account only some relationships (relations). Consequently, description becomes clearer and explanation more profound as long as the simplifications and omissions are justified, i.e., that a correct approach is adopted aimed at revealing the content that is most essential from the point of view of the general account of the subject of study that the researchers use in their thinking. An approach that on principle presents a simplified interpretation of the (natural or social) reality can be supplemented by procedures of a reverse nature, that is by adding details to description and factors (or reasons) to explanation. This is referred to as concretization.1 Idealization and concretization show smaller or greater peculiarities in research practice of different sciences. In general, it seems that the more a given discipline of science is interested in theory, the clearer are different forms of idealization and (possibly) concretization used in it, albeit this same method is used in science. As Leszek Nowak noted, idealizational procedures are what natural sciences and the humanities have in common.2 One could get the impression, though, that history is a discipline (or a set of disciplines) that develops as though on the sidelines of that general 1 2

Nowak (1980). Nowak (1980), pp. 61-62.

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 87-108. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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idealizational procedure. This is because the task of history is, as is often stressed, to provide a detailed account of what has happened. Moreover, as is also often stressed, the progress of historical studies allegedly consists in condensing the description in question by means of accumulating new sources and new pieces of information. It is added at the same time that the historian is not interested in formulating laws (that are always of idealizational in nature), which is so important in sciences, their task being, e.g., to predict (for instance the way in which the market will evolve, what the results of specified actions will be, etc.). Some natural sciences have developed categories such as ideal gas, point or vacuum, which is incidentally similar to the way political economy analyzes states of affair while suspending specific factors. In such natural sciences, idealization is more “visible” than in more descriptive disciplines. Upon closer scrutiny, however, it turns out that even history, which is so closely related to concrete reality and is so attached to time and space, does not depart from more “exact sciences” in terms of idealization. For a long time, historians have generally been aware of the fact that they use various idealizational procedures, although they never called them so. An eminent French historian, Georges Sorel (1842-1906), wrote: “We should put forward probable and partial hypotheses and be content with provisional approximations so that we could in this way leave the door open for subsequent corrections.”3 This could be read as a procedure of formulating more general statements and gradually concretizing them based on approximating a picture of the reality that is richer in detail. Johan Huzinga (1872-1945), one of leading European historians of the late 19th century and the early of the 20th century, wrote: “To begin (in history) an analysis, one has to have a synthesis in one’s mind.” 4 Many historians, especially in the field of economic history, have been construing models of economies to which they apply more or less consistent concretizations. In his innovatory book on the distribution of income in Poland, Jan Rutkowski wrote the following: We will conduct our discussion starting with the simplest situations, and then we will be gradually coming to more and more complicated ones. We will first of all consider the functioning of the distribution of income in the closed feudal system, that is to say, in a system in which there are no economic relations between estates belonging to different lords. 5

3

Quoted in Carr (1987), p. 41. Quoted in Shaw (1998), p. 248. 5 Rutkowski (1982), p. 111. 4

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Models of the feudal economy were also put forward by such scholars as Witold Kula6 or Trout Rader,7 as well as by authors construing other models. Numerous models were construed by historians from the socalled New Economic History.8 Herman Van der Wee has suggested an interesting model of the development of Dutch economy in modern times in which he has analyzed the role of various factors that are to explain economic cycles in this country. Van der Wee concludes his text as follows: The explanative hypothesis suggested here is located on a high level of abstraction. Although it has been construed on the basis of factographic induction, it is too synthetic to be subject to verification without additional procedures. 9

In this study, I intend to present a concretization of the suggested general hypothesis that takes into account the most important “factors” (prices, population) by means of formulating hypotheses that are closer to “reality” and thereby to present its concretization. II Existing analyses of idealizational procedures in history focus primarily on construing models and their concretizations performed by historians. It must be stressed that this concerns only a small fragment of historiography. What I am referring to is obviously a conscious formulation of model constructions by historians, constructions in which one makes use of factors of different significance for the event studied.10 The idealization approach pervades the whole of the historians’ research and their narrative procedure, going far beyond conscious model approach. In my view, it can be concluded from the observation of historiographic practice that there are at least four idealization (simplification) procedures with respect to the material that is at the historians’ disposal and with respect to their image of the past reality. These are the following procedures: 6

Kula (1976). Rader (1968). 8 Different historical models are discussed by Brzechczyn (1998). Models developed by the school of “New Economic History” are analyzed in Polish literature by Pomorski (1995). 9 Wee (1974), pp. 105-121. For the model method in history see also Topolski (1972), pp. 713-726, reprinted in (1994a), Ch. XVIII. 10 Topolski (1976), pp. 401-417. 7

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factualization of the source material, modeling of the image of the past reality, narrative abstraction (summarizing), explanative abstraction (omission).

Let us discuss the above procedures in more detail. The first, in most general terms, consists in “removing” interpretation and rhetoric as much as possible from the source information. The point is to obtain as a result information about the simplest (the most unique, the most individual) historical facts. Information of this sort can be called (relatively) “pure” (“ideal”), and the same applies to the facts that they describe. I call these “purified” source pieces of information about single facts base pieces of information that refer to base facts. Obviously, we have to bear in mind all the time that both base pieces of information and facts that they describe are narrative constructs that merely pretend to be linked to the reality. Moreover, base pieces of information (and facts, at the same time) are of twofold nature. The first kind can be called hard, and the second kind can be termed soft. Hard pieces of information, which I also call base ones in a strict sense of the term, are those which inform the historians directly about the facts that they are interested in. To give an example, if a historian is interested in the date of birth of a given person and finds an appropriate inscription in a registry book (which does not raise doubts about its authenticity), then the piece of information found can be called a hard base piece of information. In such a case, the historian’s task is simple (leaving aside possible difficulties in reading a source inscription): she simply “excavates” an almost ready piece of information out of the source. ‘Excavation’ refers to a critical approach, the essence of which is to recognize the source as authentic and the informant as reliable. However, in numerous cases such a way of getting direct pieces of information is complicated, for they are implicated in the author’s interpretation of the source as well as in his rhetoric. Soft base pieces of information pertain to indirectly established facts. This is the course taken by the historian if she/he does not find direct pieces of information in her sources about facts that are of interest to her/his. So she/he establishes the date of birth that is important to her/his on the basis of indirect pieces of information, such as e.g., the date at which a given person began her/his education, dates pertaining to other persons or still different data. The piece of information obtained, which is often not very specific and is sometimes burdened some degree of uncertainty, becomes a base piece of information if it informs about simple facts. For the historian, it

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represents, together with other (hard and soft) base pieces of information, a material on the basis of which she/he construes her/his narrative making use of the non-source knowledge. These base pieces of information can be compared with ideal points, for the facts they speak of have been abstracted from some complicated context. One has to realize that historians do not have access to the past reality. What still remains at their disposal are other observations and interpretations made by other people, authors of sources that are of a very fragmentary nature. When construing their narrative, historians refer to other narratives, and as far as material sources are concerned (such as, for instance, objects excavated by the archeologist, or objects that are around us, such as, e.g., old buildings), they have to use their own observation and narrativize them, i.e., describe for themselves, not necessarily in the form of a separate text (the object X is this and this). In such cases, one can easily recognize as base pieces of information only those descriptions of objects that do not raise specialists’ doubts. What is required is not an absolute consensus but at least such a consensus that admits a given description of a direct source (which does not have its author) to further stages of scientific examination. Source pieces of information not only inform about facts in an indirect or direct way but also, as we have noted, are immersed in interpretation and rhetoric (persuasion). It is the historians’ task to reach the description of a given historical fact in its ideal, perhaps unique, form. The issue is certainly controversial but it is worthwhile to quote in this context Richard T. Vann’s view. Vann says the following: “I know no example where more than one account has been offered of exactly the same set of events, no matter how events are concerned.” 11 I agree with this view but the opposite one does not change the essence of my argument: one has to “remove” interpretation and rhetoric in order to reach as “pure” facts as possible. Such an idealizational procedure I term the factualization of the source material, for its aim is to reach relatively “pure” (perhaps unique) descriptions of facts. Here is a passage from the chronicle of Master Wincenty (known as Kadłubek) in which he describes the battle of Mozgawa in 1195. The battle was waged for the throne of Cracow and was fought between “older” and “younger” representatives of the Piast dynasty: What a sacrilegious, godless, pathetic spectacle of this fight. Neither sons respect their fathers, nor fathers are mindful of their sons; brothers do not recognize their brothers, nor do relatives recognize their relatives, nor do kinsmen recognize their kinsmen; there are no common relations and the sacred bond of spiritual kinship 11

Vann (1998), p. 155.

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Jerzy Topolski kills itself in the fury of a massacre. Here Mieszkowic Bolesław dies of a spear. Here eminent knights fall. Here a plane knight wounds Mieszko and when he wants to kill him, the latter takes off his helmet and cries that he is a prince! The former recognizes him and asks for forgiveness for his imprudence and defending him against others, leads him out the battlefield. 12

It is easy to see that in the above passage base pieces of information reporting base facts are the following: 1. Bolesław, Mieszko’s son, died of a spear in the battle. 2. Mieszko (the Older) was wounded and led out of the battlefield by a plain knight. The fratricidal battle is not listed as it is reported in an earlier passage of the chronicle. What dominates in the passage quoted above is interpretation and rhetoric. The author interprets the battle as out of accord with the sense of morality (disregard of family bonds) and at the same time he wants, by means of rhetoric (e.g., exclamations and the vocabulary used), to make the reader of his text share the same mood. Here is an excerpt from a Turkish work entitled The Quintessence of Events about the Years 1681-1684 by Deferdar Sary Mehmed Pasza about the march-out for the campaign of Vienna: The defender of true faith and clear law, the Padishah of the world, the inheritor of the kingdom of Sulejman, the glory of Osman’s house, Padishah – the ornament of the world, the ruler, the conqueror of countries, the sultan Gazi Mechmed chan, taking his hope from Allah, had gone with all his Islamic armies to a sacred war and had made this decision: on Thursday morning, April 15, 1683 [the date given according to the Christian calendar, footnote by J.T.], he set out from the exquisite region located in the vicinity of his threshold and capital Adrianopol . . . that could be envied even by green meadows of paradise. Carrying high the banner of victory and triumph, with the noise similar to that of the sea waves and the noise of travel kettle-drums going up to the sky accompanying the march-out, all set out on a journey and moved in the direction indicated by the ruler’s will like spring wind that adds charm to the world. 13

In this passage, the presence of rhetoric is still greater. The base piece of information about the date, place and manner in which the Tartar Kara Musi chan Gazi Mechmed is immersed in a text packed with metaphors, which at the same time is an ideological message of the author. It is obvious that both in the case of the passage from the chronicle of Master Kadłubek as well as from that of Sara Mechmed Pasza, rhetoric and interpretation present in these texts is also a base fact that requires

12 13

Master Wincenty Kadłubek (1991), p. 252. Abramowicz (1973), p. 275.

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appropriate formulation for a historian interested in chronicle writing itself and in the personages of chroniclers. It is often the case that the task of formulating base information is taken on by various publications such as historical dictionaries, registers, etc., and in publishing documents it is a general rule that the main elements are provided in an introduction to a subsequent document. As an example, let me present a passage from a Historical and Geographic Dictionary of the Poznań Region in the Middle Ages which contains all the known source information on particular villages, subject to “purification” with respect to interpretation and rhetoric: Inhabitants: 1546, laborious [laboriosus - a term given to peasants; footnote by J.T.] Bartazar Clarer, an inn-keeper from the village of Leszno is to give the title of 3 perches [virga – a measure of field; footnote by J.T.] of soil and gardens near Wschowa and in the village of Przczyna Dolna to Maciej Górski from Miłosław, a starost of Wschowa; 1549, Dominik Froszberg from Leszno, originally from Głogów; 1553, king Zygmunt August provides Jan and Jerzy Glanik, townsmen from Leszno who had been outlawed earlier, with a safe conduct; serf Michał Marszel, the meadows of Nikla Kniwa.14

This is, as can be seen, a handful of simple (“straightened”) pieces of information taken from sources of information about inhabitants of Leszno which the historian can treat as her base material to construe her narrative, i.e., to create narrative totalities linked to one another with common logic, grammar, rhetoric and some general content. Below, I would like to discuss the common (linking) content in question. III As has been noted above, the historian constructs an inherently linked, more or less coherent narrative from single and at the same time scattered base pieces of information. It also has to be stressed that a given narrative (a book, an article, etc.) is not a totality but a complicated structure that links many narrative totalities of different levels of generality. It can be presented by taking the structure of a book as an example. The smallest elements of it are historical sentences that inform about a historical fact, for instance the following sentence: The proceedings of the senate were still in progress when the king sent an order to commanders of fortresses and administrators of arsenals to provide Mitawa with 14 Słownik historyczno-geograficzny województwa poznańskiego w średniowieczu [Historical and Geographic Dictionary of the Poznań Region in the Middle Ages], edited by Gąsiorowski (1992), p. 589.

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all cannons, especially those capable of carrying cannon-balls of a great caliber as well as with gun-powder and ammunition [with reference to August’s attempt to take Riga in 1700; footnote by J.T.]. 15

The sentence together with other sentences forms a paragraph. A number of paragraphs in a historical (and not only historical) narrative form sections; sections form chapters, and chapters finally form a book. But a book is not a simple sequence of narrative totalities, or even a sequence of parallel narrative bands (historical sentences, paragraphs, subchapters etc.); it is something much more complex that fulfills the principle of multiple linkage. Consequently, a historical sentence is a part of a paragraph; together with a paragraph it is a part of a section. Then, together with a section, it is a part of chapter, etc. Thus, in a perfectly coherent narrative that should not contain any “loose” sentences, a sentence as a part of a paragraph, section, etc., is repeatedly linked. The linkage in question is not grammatical in nature and is only partially logical in nature (mainly due to the fact that it is subject to the principle of contradiction); it is a linkage of content that is shared via general concepts (not necessarily articulated but enthymematically assumed). For instance, the sentence quoted above, concerning the order to provide Mitawa with cannons, considered in isolation, speaks merely of this particular fact. Since it is a part of narrative totalities (a sequence of paragraphs) that speak of an attempt to take Riga by August I in 1700, it “absorbs” a part of these more general contents (in a manner that cannot be articulated in sentences). Thus, it is indirectly also a sentence about preparations to take Riga, as well as about the failure of the attempt. One cannot pull single sentences out of a narrative without consequences for sentences themselves, and for the whole narrative (obviously in the case of an ideal narrative) as well. An analogy can be drawn with a chemical compound from which one is not able to isolate a component (for instance oxygen from H2 O) without destroying the chemical compound as such. It is clear at the same time that the isolated component is not the same element that functions in a compound. Let us consider the sentence “Prices of grain in Paris in 1780s were going up,” which is a part of a paragraph about the population’s growing dissatisfaction and then, with several other paragraphs, a part of a section about taking the Bastille and, beyond that, of subchapters and chapters about the origin of the French revolution. Within these narrative totalities, this sentence is not merely about the rise in prices. It is linked with general concepts, such as the growing dissatisfaction of Paris 15

Rutkowski (1946), pp. 125-127.

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residents, taking the Bastille, the outbreak of the French revolution, the origin of the French revolution, etc. The above arguments confirm what Huizinga has noted. It is impossible to construct a historical narrative without reference to ever more general terms, and – in the end – to the most general set of them (the “synthesis in one’s mind”). The synthesis in question is a general vision (hypothetical, idealization totality) of what the historian examines and describes. It can be called a model. It belongs to the domain of the non-source knowledge. In the course of examination, the general model in question, which is an introductory image of an object on the part of the historian, undergoes two processes: modification and concretization. Modification is a process of possibly changing these or other fundamental elements of a model that results from new deliberation inspired by the source and other material. Concretization in the historian’s research practice means saturating an initial model, accepted as an intellectual guiding pattern and subject to simultaneous modifications with increasingly detailed content, i.e., with base pieces of information and their interpretations. Two kinds of concretization can be distinguished in this context. The type that is most commonly used in historians’ research and writing practice is factographic concretization. It consists in fleshing out the structure of a model with concrete content, i.e., with the above mentioned base pieces of information and with what can be deduced from them. Let us say that a historian intends to research the work of the Polish Senate under the reign of Stanisław August (1764-1795). In order to begin the study, she/he has to apply some general knowledge (possibly gained earlier) of institutions existing in Poland at that time so that she/he could have an idea about the position of the senate among them, i.e., so that she/he could construct in her/his imagination (in her/his “mind,” in Huizinga’s words) a totalizing image of the Polish state (and perhaps even more broadly of the society, economy, or culture). It is only after constructing such a model (which often goes hand in hand with research itself) that the historian fleshes it out with factographic pieces of information. It must be emphasized again that those pieces of information can sometimes lead to a fundamental modification of the initial model with respect to its main assumptions. So she/he is writing in more detail about the Senate knowing beforehand (more or less generally) what the Senate at the time was. The other kind of concretizing the model applies both to the image of an object of research that is generally not articulated, and to a consciously constructed model, such as the models developed by Kula,

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Rutkowski or historians representing the school of New Economic History that were already mentioned above. This type is referred to as explanative concretization. It occurs in its classic form in Rutkowski who studied, e.g., causes of the origin and development of manorial economy (“the causes of the growth of manorial farms”) in modern Poland. Obviously, we do not know an initial model that guided Rutkowski’s research. We can only put forward some hypotheses in this respect, based on the history of his studies of manorial economy in Europe, or at least presume that in the beginning the model in question must have been less clear. It can be assumed that only at some moment the author decided that it was sufficiently confronted with factographic pieces of information, i.e., precise enough to be described. I will discuss the issue of idealization and explanative concretization in history separately (see section V). IV Narrative abstraction (summarizing) is undoubtedly the most common idealizational procedure used by historians. The necessity of abstracting, i.e., omitting a greater or smaller amount of information about facts is independent of whether the historian has a richer source material at her disposal. Instead, it results from a simple statement formulated already at the beginning of my argument, which stressed that it is impossible to describe “everything” (neither events themselves nor their causes). The historian is bound to select and at the same time she/he works under the stress, as it is expected of her/his that the narrative should be coherent, should present narrative sequences that are obvious to the reader, that are linked with one another and structured (see section III). Gone are the times when annals noting single events (such as the tabulae pontificum in ancient Rome), and even chronicles in which the main linkage, apart from the time sequence, was provided by some guiding idea (such as, for example, a glory of the dynasty or of the Church). Chronicles, even if still written, are no longer regarded as a proper narrative but as an inscription aiming to preserve the memory of something, and as a source for a proper narrative. It is supposed that while constructing her narrative the historian acts in accordance not only with her/his general vision of the subject matter (of e.g., the system of the Polish state in the second half of the 18th century) but also with her/his own, even more general vision of the world

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and of humans.16 Thereby, she/he treats a narrative as a concretization of this vision (or these two intermingled visions). The more detailed the narrative (as, for instance, in a text that constructs some tiny fragment of a picture of the past reality), the more advanced the concretization, i.e., the more detailed is the text constructed by a historian. To give an example, we do not find many detailed discussions in syntheses. Thus, they are closer to an initial model. But this is not supposed to mean that the historian does not perform concretization while constructing a synthesis. As a matter of fact, her/his conduct is different. The historian confronts the above-mentioned two visions with a detailed material, modifying them at the same time, as noted above. Thus, we first deal with the concretization and modification of an initial model, and then with the suspension of more or less detailed knowledge in question, i.e., mental subjection of a concretized model to the procedure of idealization. But a procedure of idealization is also necessary in the case of narratives not treated as synthetic. It intermingles with concretization, i.e., the saturation of an initial model with base pieces of information and with interpretations. This procedure, which is applied regardless of the degree of specificity of a narrative, consists in the above mentioned narrative abstraction, i.e., in retaining in a narrative what the historian recognizes as the most important according to her (modified) initial model, and omitting other information. Thereby, in the case of diachronic narratives,17 the historian constructs a certain simplified sequence of facts and relations between them that can be termed a narrative line. Such narratives provide a sequence of facts in a chronological order and are typical of, say, political history. It is obviously a sequence deprived of an infinite number of facts and relations, both known and unknown from sources. It is undoubtedly an idealization, simplification, essentialization in relation to the historian’s knowledge of the past, although not a deformation with respect to this knowledge. We are not capable of deforming the past reality as we do not know it. We can only deform it with respect to such an image of the past that we have in our minds, supplemented by information that is included in the sources that we know of (in this case, mainly historical narratives other than our own). Constructing a narrative that complies with the accepted narrative line represents an idealization of a general model that guides the historian’s work, but it is a type of idealization that does not destroy the fundamental structure of the model (for instance the belief that the main factor of historical changes is the state of the economy). A deformation 16 17

Topolski (1983), pp. 128-137. For diachronic and synchronic narratives, see Topolski (1994b), pp. 18-30.

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of this model would be at stake if the author of a narrative withdrew to a smaller or greater degree from this model in its essential aspects in her narrative sequence (in her narrative line). The above remarks also pertain to the second fundamental kind of a historical narrative: a synchronic narrative typical of, for instance, the history of material culture. This narrative is also embedded in the timeline (pertaining to some concrete point on it), but its structure is not linear and does not concur with the passage of time. It is circular and focused around some general concept denoting some “ordinary” object (such as a table or a necklace found by an archeologist) or an abstract one (such as an apartment or culture). In such cases, the historian, with a definition of the object being described in a narrative “in her/his mind” (“an apartment is . . .”), simultaneously concretizes and idealizes this object. For instance, she/he constructs an image of a bourgeois apartment in the Holland of the 17th century on the basis of a painting of that time. Then, she/he is able to contain in his/her description a piece of information that she/he recognizes as the most characteristic of or the most essential to the idea of the apartment that she/he describes. So first she/he mentally concretizes the general idea in question that guides her choice of content for a description and then she/he idealizes what is already saturated with knowledge of details, i.e., her/his image of an apartment. For instance, providing a piece of information about a table, she/he omits a piece of information about its artistic ornaments in the form of table legs carved in this or that way. But in doing so, she/he attempts not to deform (by simplifying) a general idea of an apartment that she/he accepted (i.e., a bourgeois apartment of the Holland of the 17 th century). If, for instance, she initially assumed that its artistic image (and the effort invested in its upkeep) was one of its basic characteristics, then the omission of such characteristics in her/his description could be seen as a deformation. It is easy to notice that in the case of a synchronic narrative there is no sticking to a narrative line on the part of the historian, for the passage of time does not play an essential role in this description. Therefore, the procedure of idealization is in this case manifested as a narrative circle whose central circle is formed by a definition which in the course of constructing a narrative is enriched radially with specific elements and, as has been noted, idealized at the same time. Let us have a closer look at the practice of narrative idealization, i.e., at the realization of a narrative line or a narrative circle. Let us use the example of the historical fact (i.e., a piece of information that is sufficiently confirmed in sources) of August II’s attempt to seize Riga in

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1700, the result of which was a defeat that opened the way for Charles XII to further victories in the Great Northern War (1700-1721). I will confine the discussion to more synthetic works. From among the latter works, the most extensive description of this event can be found (as far as the Polish literature is concerned) in a book authored by Jacek Staszewski entitled August II Mocny.18 He writes about the previously mentioned fact of sending cannons to Mitawa and then to Riga, then about the king going there on July 7, 1700 (adding at the same time what luggage the king took with him: a substantial library about the fate of which he informs in detail in his digressions), about the king’s political thoughts, about the fact of foreign ministers accompanying the king in his camp, about camp life which was “full of alcohol,” about ideas about signing a peace treaty with Sweden in accordance with recommendations of the Senate, moving regiments further, as well as about the French deputy’s account of these preparations, the king’s activities, Brandenburg deputy Hoverbeck’s negative observations that were different from the impressions of the French deputy (e.g., about the demoralization of the army), calculations about Peter I’s help (as well as about the tsar’s envoy being robbed, which had essential influence on the further course of events), about other analyses of the political situation (e.g., about waiting for the mediation of Austria and France after the withdrawal from the war of Denmark defeated by Charles XII), and about the end of the siege of Riga. Let us add that in previous paragraphs the author described an earlier attempt to take Riga “by surprise” (by resorting to a ruse) rather than by means of laying siege to it. All this takes several densely written pages. In a more synthetic narrative, the same author reports only on “failed war plans in the Inflanty campaign in the first six months of 1700,” about the Swedish king’s “announcement” of a “crushing revenge for a treacherous attack on Riga and breaking the peace treaty of Oliwa,” as well as Russia’s joining the war “when August II was raising the siege of Riga and preparing for a retreat to Kurland.”19 As can be seen, the question of Riga does not belong here to the main narrative line but rather to its offshoots (for such a distinction should be drawn). The main narrative line pertains, as can be easily noticed, to the very question of the war (its beginning, stages and conditions). In Jerzy Topolski’s synthesis entitled Historia Polski [The History of Poland] there occurs a similar narrative line but without ever mentioning the question of Riga (an attempt to take it using a ruse, then in a regular 18 19

Staszewski (1998), pp. 114-115. Tazbir (1995), pp. 293-295.

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siege, and finally raising the siege). The passage in question is as follows: But Charles XII, attacked jointly by the Danes and by August II in 1700, was not defeated. He quickly smashed the Danes and then, at Narva, he beat Peter I who was heading towards Estonia. He defeated the Saxon army in 1701 in the battle of Dvina. 20

Riga is not mentioned in a collective synthesis entitled Polska. Losy państwa i narodu [Poland. A History of the State and the Nation] authored by Henryk Samsonowicz, Janusz Tazbir, Tadeusz Łepkowski, and Tomasz Nałęcz either: The battle forces of the Swedish army as well as the king Charles XII’s commanding talent thwarted these plans [of recapturing by the so-called Northern League of lands taken away from the member countries, i.e., from Russia, Denmark and Poland, by Sweden; footnote by J. T.]. Swedes managed to defeat Denmark and forced it to leave the coalition first, then defeated Peter I’s army at Narva, and then entered Polish land through Kurland. 21

And in a synthesis authored by Józef A. Gierowski, an eminent expert on the Saxon times, the relevant passage is as follows: Early in 1700 the Danes, attacked Holstein and August II tried to seize Riga by surprise. Contrary to expectations, the Swedish army was well prepared for the war this time, and the youthful Charles XII turned out to be a splendid commander. With the help of the Netherlands and England, he soon forced Denmark to sign a peace treaty and then he beat Peter I’s army that had in the meantime joined the war at Narva. At the same time, August II failed in his attempt to conquer Riga by surprise, and he was not able to force it to surrender with the help of a long-lasting siege. Under the circumstances, Wettin attempted to withdraw from further war.22

Riga is not mentioned in an extensive synthesis The European World, written by Jerome Blum, Rondo Cameron, and Thomas G. Barnes either. Its narrative line in this particular fragment was not “developed” with the help of more detailed “offshoots”: Peter allied Russia with Poland and Denmark to partition the Swedish possessions and in 1700 hostilities began. The Great Northern War, 1700-1721, was contemporaneous with the War of the Spanish Succession; it was the northern theater of the general war that raged through Europe in the first decades of the eighteenth century. The allies’ expectation of an easy victory reckoned without the military genius of the youthful Swedish king, Charles XII. A few months after the war began, with just 8000 troops Charles smashed a Russian army of 40000 at Narva, a Swedish fortress on the Gulf of Finland. Peter fled in terror from the 20

Topolski (1995), p. 166. Tazbir (1992), p. 227. 22 Gierowski (1985), pp. 262-263. 21

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battlefield and for a time was ready to sue for peace, but fortune reprieved him when Charles turned his attention to Poland for the next few years.23

It is easy to see that a general narrative line is close to those detected in previous narratives but its concretizations are different to a smaller or greater degree. In the latter narrative it was Russia’s actions that were put to the fore and this provided a specific framework to its narrative line. In the former narratives, the actions of Russia, Denmark and August II (that is to say, of Saxony and Poland) were discussed on the same plane. What provided me with an example of the functioning of a narrative circle in a historical narrative was The History of Private Life (vol. 1, >From the Roman Empire to the Year 1000) edited by Paul Veyne, 24 in which the authors discuss, e.g., the house in Roman Africa and its living space (domus). Constructing a general model of the living space in question, they at the same time fill it with a more detailed content. Hence, we can read the following there: The first division of the space of the household was made depending on the time of the day. In the morning, clients were paying visits, and in the evening the master of the house was serving dinner. During the day, both the central space and the peristile could be reserved mainly for household activities and for the entertainment of its occupants. . . . Penetrating research into ruins demonstrates that, indeed, an inner space of the house is divided by a considerable number of doors, quite similar to contemporary buildings in which almost all rooms are isolated from adjoining rooms by a system of closures. Where remains of a building were preserved in quite a good condition, the result of such research was surprising, for it allowed to prove a systematic use of leaves, attached either directly to brick walls and threshold panel or suspended form door-frames; in the latter case, though, there are hardly perceptible traces of their fastening. There are few rooms the entrance to which would be deprived of leaves. Even wide door openings of vast reception halls could be closed. The triclinum could be open on the occasion of evening banquets but during the rest of the day this vast chamber was most often closed and isolated from the rest of a household. Furthermore, the stairs that linked different levels of the house were divided by doors that regulated access to them and even separated particular parts of them. Sometimes traces of leaves that regulated walking between porticos and the hall of the peristile in places where the wall that separated the two elements was not built, to enable passing through. This systematic use of divisions increased the effectiveness of a general plan of the household, as it ensured independence of its various rooms. 25

The above description provides both a general plan of the household (the peristile and the central part, as well as the consistent isolation between them provided by the doors), and a concretization by supplying 23

Blum, Cameron, and Barnes (1970), p. 322. Veyne (1988). 25 Ibid., pp. 372-378. 24

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the details on the structure of the doors and to different functions of the household at various times of the day. In subsequent passages, the author writes about curtains, columns, the social hierarchy reflected by them (the richer the house, the more curtains), elements of decoration (such as an architectural elaboration of the peristile). He gives concrete examples and adds his different interpretations. The central point of the narrative is a model of a household and the circle of this model is formed by more or less detailed descriptions of elements of this model (rooms, their decoration, their function, etc.). V The procedure of idealization in the form of explanative abstraction, i.e., omission the “factors” or motives that the historian considers less important (as far as human actions are concerned) is also closely related to the historian’s practice. No information is available in the sources about factors or motives that could be termed base ones (they only contain narratives indicating such or other causal relations which cannot serve as sources, though they may perhaps play some heuristic role). Hence, in the case of such abstraction we do not omit such or other details derived from the sources but we are engaged in a sort of game with our knowledge and imagination. The game in question is a combination of idealization and concretization. In his general model of reality (his vision of the world and of humans), the historian locates convictions pertaining to relations between elements of the reality and human motives and actions in determined places. These can be very general images that are sometimes quite incoherent and sometimes quite specific. I call them spaces of the influence of the researcher’s consciousness. They are a part of more extensive spaces that I term ontological spaces.26 In the course of studies, these spaces (in other words: a general model of the reality) are subject to modification and enrichment. The historian, guided by different convictions, including political, ideological or religious ones, makes a decision as to which “factors” or “motives” (as far the explanation of human action is concerned) are important for what she/he examines and what she/he wants to explain. He often takes into account what has been already written on the subject in historiography. Thereby she/he reconstructs, as Jan Pomorski would put it: “a space of objective, essential conditions of the appearance of a given historical 26

Topolski (1978).

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fact.” 27 What is at stake is surely not reconstruction but construction of the space in question, for we do knot know what it is really like. 28 Within this space, fundamental (main) factors (or motives) and less important (accidental) factors are usually distinguished. But the determination of main and accidental factors (or motives) has a relative meaning. On the level of explanative description of a more general nature, some factors can have an accidental status, while on the level of individual explanations they can become main ones. To give an example, while explaining the introduction of copyholding reforms in Poland in the 18 th century some historians often note that landowners wanted thereby to increase their income. Thus, they recognize this motivation as one of main factors of the decision on copyholding (the exchange of liabilities in work and in kind for liabilities in money) and recognize as accidental such motives as willingness to be seen as a progressive person or to follow others. But when we are explaining an action of a particular landowner, the main factor in question in fact does not necessarily have to turn out to be the main one. If the landowner in question is guided first of all by the motive of gaining the opinion of a progressive person, then it is this motive that becomes central to him, and the willingness to increase his income becomes an accidental factor (motive) for him. As Pomorski is correct to note, in historical practice we often (and I would rather say: most often) deal with “the impulsive construction of idealization sentences.” 29 Pomorski quotes the following sentence written by Władysław Rusiński (which was, incidentally, taken from Rutkowski) about the development of the manorial farms: Without underestimating, by any means, the influence of other factors on the development of the manorial farm, it must be said that two of them affected it in the most decisive manner. The first is the favorable economic situation for food products in the West, and the other is gaining the decisive influence on state matters and giving full liberty to the peasantry on the part of the nobility. 30

We are struck in this passage by a practice that is commonly used by historians and which is understandable due to the complexity of the subject matter. The practice is that of the arbitrary “weighing” of factors, i.e., stating which factors are “decisive” or “main” or “merely direct” on the basis of a general conviction rather than quantitative examination (which, at any rate, is usually impossible). For instance, when presenting

27

Pomorski (1981), p. 81. Today, the author would surely put it in this way. 29 Pomorski (1981), p. 82. 30 Ibid., p. 84. The example taken from Rusiński (1956), p. 645. 28

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an explanation of the partitions of Poland (1772-1795) Michał Bobrzyński wrote that: What ended our political existence was not borders and neighbors but internal chaos (and the chaos and powerlessness in question was caused by the weakness of our government). So if we could not face the outside danger at the end of the 18 th century, the only direct cause for this was the lack of government). 31

“Decisive moments,” causa efficiens, etc., were discussed and quite often “numerous causes” were given, without ever making gradation among them.32 A systematic usage of idealization and concretization is rather rare in history. Such cases, usually inconsistent, are analyzed by Krzysztof Brzechczyn in his book Odrębność historyczna Europy Środkowej [The Historical Distinctiveness of Central Europe].33 What Rutkowski wrote about the development of the manorial economy can be classified as this sort of operation. Aiming to explain the origin and the development of the manorial economy in Poland in the 14th century, Rutkowski conducted a comparative study of an economic situation in Europe of that time, as a result of which he came to the following conclusion (i.e., formulated the following general relation): There were two main factors (in the development of the manorial economy): a ready market for products from a village household, mainly grain, and properly tightened serfdom of peasantry. Selling products is the main objective of any production. A ready market for agricultural products is a necessary condition for the origin of a great agricultural workshop. Only cities can ensure a ready market that farms need. But a ready market itself is not enough for a manorial economy to appear. . . . For the appearance of the manorial farm it was necessary for the other of the above mentioned factors, i.e., properly tightened serfdom of peasantry, to exist. . . . The coexistence of a ready market and serfdom was a necessary and at the same time sufficient condition for the appearance of the manorial system. Other factors were of accidental significance. 34

Rutkowski mentions such accidental factors as the fertility of land, closeness to waterways (transport costs), changes in organization of the army (the disappearance of the medieval knighthood, providing the nobility with jobs to take), wars that ruin a country, factors of a mental nature (such as traditionalism, the influence of religion and the Church, national feelings, different ethnic origin of lords and subjects (favoring 31

Bobrzyński (1888), pp. 305-309. Such an analysis is presented in Malewski, Topolski (1960), pp. 114-157. 33 Brzechczyn (1998), pp. 49-94, the chapter Metoda idealizacji w naukach historycznych [The Method of Idealization in Historical Sciences]. 34 Rutkowski (1946), pp. 125-127. 32

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ruthlessness of the former towards the latter). But Rutkowski excluded factors such as the peasantry’s inability to withstand the trade competition in relation to the farm, stating that peasants’ farms represented more advanced technology. 35 According to Rutkowski, factors regarded as accidental explain territorial diversification in the appearance of farms. For instance, the above mentioned factor of a different ethnic origin of lords and peasants was significant in this process in the lands of Eastern Germany as well as on “Polish Eastern borderland.” In books or articles specifically devoted to explaining the above, the authors demonstrate the interplay of factors and motives from a much more complex perspective. For example, Rutkowski in his book Poddaństwo włościan w XVIII wieku w Polsce i niektórych innych krajach [The Serfdom of the Peasantry in the 18 th Century in Poland and in Some Other Countries] wanted to verify the thesis of an essential influence of an economic situation in the country (i.e., of the existing manorial system) on the partition of Poland. Taking into account comparative material, he came to the conclusion that the system did not have any direct influence on the collapse of the Polish state. The system had existed outside of Poland as well, and in other countries it had not led to the destruction of the state by foreign forces. As far as the motivation of human actions is concerned, more elaborate analyses can be found in biographical books. In more synthetic works, the relations between human motivations (and behavior), as viewed by historians, and their actions are presented in a summarized manner, retaining in description what the author recognized as the most essential (as “main”). As an example, let us the motivation that guided Aleksander Wielkopolski who took the youth of the Polish Kingdom (under Russian rule) to the Russian army as he wanted to provoke them to organize an uprising that could be easily crushed. His motivation was summarized in the following way: (Aleksander Wielopolski), a resolute follower of an agreement with Russia and of permanent support from Russia, was a ruthless enemy of any resistance movement and any uprisings, which he regarded as pure madness. He wanted to colonize Poland in an evolutionary manner, with permanent hegemony of gentry. . . . Being unable to suppress the revolutionary and patriotic mood among the youth, Wielopolski decided to provoke a premature, armed uprising in winter. 36

35 36

Ibid., see also Rutkowski (1986), pp. 221-222. Tazbir (1992), pp. 359-360.

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In such explanations, one necessarily indicates merely some elements of a narrative structure from the whole web of motivations of different force influencing decisions. Idealizations of motivations in a historical narrative are included in narrative lines or circles. It is often the case that the historian develops his explanations, i.e., presents their concretizations, judging that a given issue requires it (or that the recipient expects it). At the end there arises a question of whether and to what degree idealizational procedures pertain to new forms of historiography that have appeared in recent decades and that are being associated, correctly or incorrectly, with postmodernism. My discussion results from an analysis of historiographic practice that dominates among those historians who do not avoid metanarratives (in Lyotard’s sense of the term) and arranging narratives in a chronological manner. But an insight into a structure of narratives that we call “new,” especially an analysis of the so-called microhistories, shows that the difference between dominating historiography and the new historiographic practice from the point of view of idealization is that of degree. What occurs in microhistories is also the factualization of source material, i.e., reaching base (more or less deprived of rhetoric and interpretation, more or less “purified”) pieces of information. Similarly, the historian who is inclined to construct a microhistorical narrative makes use of a general image of the past reality that functions in her research. In constructing a narrative that is aimed at “details,” the process of abstraction (summarizing) is obviously less radical and the use of general concepts is more limited. But in a microhistory, it is impossible to write “everything” about the past either. What is required is also selection and adhering to some narrative line or narrative circle. Less emphasis on explanation in microhistories or in narratives that are not concerned with coherence (in the sense of a traditional narrative) automatically diminishes the procedure of explanative abstraction within them. But this narrative is not deprived of explanation, and thereby of indicating “more important” and “accidental” (be they even enthymematic) relations. Idealization (and concretization) is simply an element of our practice, not only in science but also in artistic activities, as it pertains to them as well.

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Topolski, J. (1972). The Model Method in Economic History. Journal of European Economic History 1, 713-726. Topolski, J. (1976). Methodology of History. Dordrecht: Reidel. Topolski, J. (1978). Rozumienie historii [Understanding History]. Warszawa: PIW. Topolski, J. (1983). Teoria wiedzy historycznej [A Theory of Historical Knowledge]. Poznań: Wydawnictwo Poznańskie. Topolski, J. (1994a). The Manorial Economy in Early-Modern East Central Europe. Aldershot Hampshire: Variorum. Topolski, J. (1994b). A Non-Postmodernist Analysis of Historical Narratives. In: J. Topolski (ed.), Historiography between Modernism and Postmodernism. Contributions to the Methodology of Historical Research (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 41), pp. 8-86. Amsterdam/Atlanta: Rodopi. Topolski, J. (1995). Historia Polski [A History of Poland]. Warszawa: Kopia. Vann, R.T. (1998). The Reception of Hayden White. History and Theory 37, 143-161. Veyne, P., ed. (1988). Historia życia prywatnego; vol. 1: Od Cesarstwa Rzymskiego do roku tysięcznego (the Polish translation of: Histoire de la vie privée, vol. 1: De l’Empire romain ŕ l’an mil, Paris, Éditions du Seuil, 1985). Wrocław: Ossolineum. Wee, H. van der (1974). Un modèle institutionnel de croissance pour l’économie des PaysBas sous l’Ancien Régime. In: R. Czepulis-Rastenis (ed.), Między feudalizmem a kapitalizmem. Studia z dziejów społecznych i gospodarczych [Between Feudalism and Capitalism. Studies in Social and Economic History], pp. 105-121. Wrocław: Ossolineum.

Tadeusz Pawłowski TYPOLOGICAL CONCEPTS IN HISTORICAL SCIENCES * Our discussion will be dedicated to the historical sciences viewed in a broad context, taken to include the history of politics, the history of economy, the history of culture, the history of morality, history of art, etc. Do these sciences use typological concepts? Many representatives of particular historical disciplines argue that they do. Moreover, they stress that the typological concepts are indispensable tools of these sciences, which would not be able to perform their tasks without them. The following are examples of concepts which are usually considered as typological: the feudal system, the capitalist system, the manorial-serf economy, the rent the economy, burgher morality, family based on an institutional pattern, friendship-based family, Baroque architecture, the naturalistic novel. Those who favor of the idea of an indispensable character of typological concepts point to the following circumstances: (i) The ordinary concepts are “rigid”: objects either fall into their range or they do not. However, the reality is of a different nature, properties of objects are gradual, and the transitions between the state of having and not having a certain property are continuous, which prohibits any sharp delimitation, save for the cases in which we decide to introduce artificial borders. By contrast, typological concepts, owing to their “elasticity,” can be predicated on objects which possess definitional properties to a greater or lesser degree, on the condition that they satisfactorily resemble the type. (ii) Due to the above-described properties, the typological concepts allow comparisons among the objects with respect to the intensity of the possessed by them properties. They allow introducing order into the chaos of manifold phenomena which the * The lecture was delivered in the Institute of History of the Polish Academy of Sciences on 20 January, 1966. The present paper is a chapter excerpted from Pawłowski (1969).

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 109-120. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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researcher encounters, and to systematize it. In particular, typological concepts allow researchers to present evolutionary series of the investigated phenomena. The historian F. List, for example, identifies the evolutionary sequence of the economic structure of the country, assuming as the criterion changes in the professional structure of the population. In this case, development proceeds from the hunting-shepherding stage (one extreme) through agricultural and agricultural-industrial stages to the agricultural-industrial-commercial stage (the other extreme).1 (iii) While comparing specific phenomena with the type we can notice differences that occur between them, and develop explanatory hypotheses. By this token, we may gain fuller understanding of the phenomena under study. Let us ask ourselves whether the characterization of the typological concepts and their functions in science that is sketched above is relevant. In order to answer this, must inevitably introduce certain auxiliary notions from the fields of logic and the methodology of science. We will also use insights from the general theory of measurement. First of all, we shall draw a distinction between classificatory concepts and comparative concepts. 2 Here are a few examples of concepts of the first kind: the historian, man, the serf, the musical work, intelligent, red, sour. The logical structure of classificatory concepts can be depicted with the use of the propositional function Px. Predicate P denotes a property which is attributed to an object x. The range of the concept P is a set of all objects which satisfy the function Px. If, for example, the function Px is interpreted in the following way: x is a realistic novel, then the range of the concept P will be a set of realistic novels. A classificatory concept divides the set of the examined phenomena into two subsets: those which have property P and those which do not. The logical structure and function of comparative concepts is of a different nature. More intelligent, more medieval in style, more rational, more explicitly naturalistic, more feudal: these are just a few examples of such notions. In effect, the comparative concept is an entity which is composed of two parts, one of which states the precedence criteria while the other supplies equality criteria in a specified respect. However, only the first component of that entity is mentioned in colloquial speech.

1 2

The example was taken from the book by Kula (1963), p. 181. Hempel and Oppenheim (1936).

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The logical structure of the comparative concept can be described with the use of propositional functions of the form: xWy (x precedes y in a relevant respect) and xRy (x is equal to y in this respect). In order to make the functions xWy, xRy constitute the comparative concept, the relations W and R must have certain formal properties, which can be defined with the use of the following axioms: 3 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

If xRy and yRz, then xRz, If xRy, then yRx, xRx. If xWy and yWz, then xWz, If xRy, then not xWy, If not xRy, then xWy or yWx.

Axioms 1-3 ascertain that a relation R is transitive, symmetrical and reflexive, thus it is the relation of the equivalent type. Axiom 4 ascertains the transitivity of relation W; axioms 5 and 6 ascertain counter-reflexivity and coherence of relation W with respect to relation R. Unlike classificatory concepts, comparative concepts do not allow the division of the set of objects being investigated into two subsets, but they allow ordering it with respect to the degree of intensity of the property being defined. The comparative concept of intelligence, for example, allows ordering the set of people or its certain subset, formed by the people who took a specified test, according to the level of intelligence in the following way:

.

. .

. . . .

. . . . .

. . . .

. .

. .

.

.

→ The arrow points in the direction of rise in intelligence. The people who are in one column are at the same level of intelligence. This is an example of a one-dimensional ordering. In the historical sciences, multi-dimensional ordering is applied just as often. If, for example, N is the number of graduated properties, then the N-dimensional ordering will be a system of N pairs of the relation of the type: (xW1 y, xR1 y) (xW2 y, xR2 y), . . . , (xWN y, xRN y), each of which orders the objects in one of N dimensions. One example is the ordering with respect to the 3

Hempel (1960), pp. 59f.

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system of graduated properties which form the burgher ethical ideal analyzed by M. Ossowska in the book Moralność mieszczańska [The Burgher Morality].4 We are not going to quote all the properties, as they are too numerous. Instead, we will choose four of them, bearing in mind that the exercise is a simplification and that the chosen group of properties has not yet constituted a system which would characterize burgher morality in any specific way. These include diligence, frugality, chariness and financial reliability. The four-dimensional ordering with respect to these properties would be the following:

.

Diligence

. .

Frugality

.

Chariness

.

. .

. .

. . . .

. .

. . . .

. . . .

. . .

.

.

. .

. . .

. . . .

. . . .

. . .

. .

. .

. . . .

. . . .

. .

. .

.

Financial reliability

. . . .

. . .

.

Characterizing a given person P in this multi-dimensional ordering would rely on data on the position that she or he occupies in each of the dimensions, i.e., by indicating two other people A and B, such that person P is a direct successor of A, and B is a direct successor of P. Naturally, 4

Ossowska (1956).

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this works as longs as the operation of indicating the direct successor is manageable in the set under consideration. When numbers are assigned to particular places, such characterization would rely on stating four numbers. It is worth stressing that multi-dimensional ordering with respect to the four characteristics listed above has not so far formed the ordering with respect to the burgher ethical ideal. The latter is a onedimensional ordering, which in certain cases can be obtained from multidimensional ordering as one of its functions. There are, however, no mechanical ways to determine this function; there are even cases when such function does not exist. To present the issue (and other related issues) in greater detail, we will need to cite some basic notions of the general theory of measurement.5 Measurement is popularly associated with the idea of a measurement unit, such as, for example, kilogram and meter, as well as with the operation of putting weights on the scales or notching up a meter along a straight line on the object being measured. Such a notion of measurement usually involves disbelief in the possibility of applying it outside the realm of the physical-natural sciences. Yet measurement does not have to depend on the use of quantity units and the operation of linking them. According to the general contemporary concept of measurement, it depends on the assigning numbers to objects, so that the relations between the numbers isomorphically represent the relations holding between the objects to which those numbers have been assigned. Thus, measurement assumes three essential components: (i) the distinction of the empirical realm R which is composed of the set of measured objects Z and of a certain number of relations, S 1 , S2 , . . . , S n , which occurs between these objects: R = , (ii) the distinction of the mathematical realm M which is composed of the subset of real numbers R and the relations which hold between these numbers, T1 , T2 , . . . , Tn – M = , (iii) the definition of a one-to-one function f which establishes isomorphism of both those realms. The set of real numbers is characterized by possessing a whole series of properties: all kinds of relationships hold between numbers, such as equality, majority, minority. Corresponding relationships are also obtained between differences and quotients of numbers; numbers can be 5 A more extensive analysis of the notion of measurement is contained in the work by Stevens (1946), Suppes (1959). I discussed the notion of measurement as used by the social sciences has been discussed in Pawłowski (1963; 1964; 1966).

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subjected to all sorts of operations, such as addition, multiplication, division, involution. That isomorphic assignment of numbers to objects which has been established by the function f can be achieved with respect to various properties of numbers. According to the kind of properties of numbers, which were taken into account while establishing function f, we will acquire all kinds of scales, from the weakest nominal scale, to the strongest absolute scale. In the social sciences the most often used one is the ordinal scale, which we shall discuss in greater detail below. It is also possible, though not easy, for those sciences to build stronger scales, e.g. interval scales, in which quantities of differences between objects in measured respect find their isomorphic reflection. In the ordinal scale, the function f reflects only relationships of equality and precedence that obtain between the measured objects. Thus, it has to fulfill only the following two conditions: (i) xRy if and only if f (x) = f (y), (ii) xWy if and only if f (x) < f (y). Let us assume that we have a certain set of people that are ordered with respect to relation x > y (x is less intelligent than y). A
B 2

C 3

D 4

E 5

F 6

It can be easily noticed that this assignment can be replaced by many others, which also fulfill conditions (1) and (2), e.g. by the assignment: A 9

B 15

C 17

D 50

E 61

F 128

Based on the above, it can be acknowledged that C < E, because 3 < 5; it cannot be claimed, however, that person A is as less intelligent than person C, as person D is less intelligent than person F, though 3 – 1 = 6 – 4 order to infer such a conclusion, one must be able to use a stronger scale than the ordinal one, in this case, at least, the interval scale. Generally speaking, the stronger the type of such scale, the greater use can be made of the numerical data obtained with the aid of some scale, in the formulation of the conclusions about the dependencies between the quantities being measured. We have mentioned before that scales that are the most frequently used in social sciences are scales of

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the ordinal type. Unfortunately, the conclusions that are being inferred from the data obtained with the aid of these scales are to a high degree unauthorized. They would be admissible when higher scales, e.g., interval scales, were applied. Let us return now to the many-dimensional ordering with respect to the properties of diligence, frugality, chariness and financial reliability. Let us ponder how it could be possible to obtain one-dimensional ordering from a multi-dimensional one, with respect to the burgher ethical ideal. We do not intend to formulate general rules of such transition, but we shall rather limit our discussion to an effort of pointing out certain difficulties, which arise on account of it. One may venture to say that the one-dimensional ordering will be a function of the multidimensional ordering, while to establish such a function is not a simple matter. Thus for example, it would be unsatisfying to accept the seemingly natural solution, according to which an individual x would be less burgherly with respect to the burgher ethical ideal than an individual y, if and only if a person x precedes an individual y in all the four dimensions; whereas simultaneously an analogous criterion for the relation of equality would require the occurrence of both individuals x and y in the same places in all dimensions. Relations which have been defined in such a way would not fulfill the sixth of the above-quoted axioms (the axiom of coherence), so it would not establish any kind of ordering. Similar difficulty would be encountered by a characterization that would make the precedence with respect to the burgher profile depend on the precedence with respect to the majority of the selected dimensions. Another type of problem appears in a different solution that is occasionally suggested. It would rely upon calculating an average from all dimensions for each individual; at the same time, individual x would be equal to (or would precede) individual y iff the average of individual x would be equal to (or less than) the average of an individual y. Thus, from point of view of the measurement theory and the conditions for the meaningfulness of statements ascertaining dependencies between measured properties, appears that the calculation of the average and the pronouncement of statements in order to compare the average values is acceptable only when we are in possession of satisfactorily strong types of scales, with the use of which the compared properties have been measured. In social sciences, the scales under consideration are most often of a weak ordinal type, hence they do not allow the operations described above.6 6

For that issue, cf. Suppes (1959) and Pawłowski (1964).

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In connection with one- and multi-dimensional orderings, it is worth considering the fact that in social and historical sciences the criteria for such orderings are not usually formulated in a clear way. Instead, that they are taken over from common language with all its imperfections of polysemy, vagueness, etc. It is high time we asked what typological concepts are. It is feasible to differentiate between two separate ways of determining them: on the basis of empirically given one- or many-dimensional orderings, or on the basis of scientific theories. In historical sciences, the former way is predominant. The latter is applied in those social sciences which can presently be described, at least in their fragments, as a theoretical system. These comprise primarily economic sciences and some parts of sociology and psychology. Examples of the typological concepts formed on the basis of theories include the widely known notions of the homo economicus or of the rational man. In line with the principal aim of the present article we will deal solely with typological concepts that have been formed on the basis of the empirical data of the ordering. More specifically, we will distinguish three kinds of types: an extreme, modal and mean type. The extreme type. Let us consider a precedence multi-dimensional ordering.7 Two extreme types can be formed out of it. These correspond to the minimal and maximal intensity of the trait under study. The range of a minimal type is a set of individuals, each of which is placed in the first left column in each of the four dimensions. The maximal type can be formed by analogy. We assume that in the set that has been ordered by the affected relations there exists, with respect to each of them, the largest and smallest element. In ordinal sets which do not satisfy such an assumption one cannot, of course, distinguish extreme types. In historical sciences this assumption is, as a rule, fulfilled. It is likely that the range of the extreme type will be empty. This is the case when there does not exist even one object occurring in all dimensions in the minimal or maximal column. We can talk then about an ideal type. Contrary cases involve an empirical type. Extreme types of a given ordering very often receive two contrary names; here are a few examples of such pairs of names: the hunting-shepherding economy; the agricultural-industrialcommercial economy, the manorial-serf economy, the rent economy, family based on an institutional pattern, and friendship-based family. 8 The modal type. The range of the modal type is a set of objects, each of which is placed in all dimensions in the column which contains the 7 8

I have attempted to use such a notion in (1964). Cf. Lazari-Pawłowska (1958).

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greatest number of elements. Again, the range may be empty or nonempty, and we get an ideal or empirical type respectively. The mean type. The range of the mean type is a set of objects, each of which is placed in all dimensions in the column representing the average level of the intensity of the property, at which – of course – the range may be empty. This way of forming a typological concept assumes the possibility of calculating averages in each one of the affected dimensions. Such an operation is admissible only in the cases of satisfactorily strong scales. If we are dealing with weak scales, e.g., ordinal ones, it cannot be performed. It is worth stressing that the ways of scientific conduct described above leave us, as a result, with typological concepts, yet they do not provide one-dimensional orderings. Hence, we refer the reader to our earlier remarks about the transition from multi- to one-dimensional orderings. Each of the above-mentioned operations leads to the formation of a certain classificatory concept. Are, then, typological concepts simply classificatory concepts? What kind of specificity do they have? One cannot perceive it in the emptiness of these concepts’ ranges. The range of empirical types is not empty; also, there are classificatory concepts of an empty range which are, however, not typological concepts. It is sometimes pointed out that a trait that makes typological concepts specific and distinctive should be looked for in the function which they perform in science. Proponents of that standpoint suggest that they can thus be predicated on the objects which do not fall under these concepts, yet they are sufficiently close in appearance. Two points come to mind in relation to that. First, one cannot predicate any concept on the object, which does not belong to its range, since such a procedure immediately results in a contradiction. If this is done consistently, then only on the condition that the expression ‘I predicate the concept P on the object which does not belong to its range’ is treated metaphorically, e.g., has two possible meanings. It can be a transition from one typological concept to another, of a wider range, for example through the bisection of the ordered series and the inclusion of all objects which are correspondingly placed on both sides of the turning point that is introduced to the ranges of two types obtained in this way. On the other hand, it can mean empirical verification, conducted with the aid of a special procedure, of the approximations of the theory, the axioms of which contain the concept P and, strictly speaking, are false without that procedure.

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The second remark concerns the degree of similarity of objects to the type. In order to ascertain that a certain object is sufficiently similar to the type, one has to have a satisfactorily strong scale to measure the affected properties. It has to be a scale which allows a comparison of differences between degrees of intensity of those properties. Hence, the scale has to be stronger than the ordinal scale. We know that in social and historical sciences such a scale is not easy to acquire Another function of typological concepts in science which is supposed to make them distinctive is that they apparently allow a comparison of objects with respect to the intensity of the traits which constitute the content of the typological concept. However, comparing objects which belong to a certain set is possible only when these objects are linked by some relation of an ordinal type. Such a relation is provided by ordinal concepts, whereas all the types listed before are classificatory concepts. What are the typological concepts, then? The answer comes from analyzing their use in science. The results of the analysis support acknowledging the typological concept in the form of an entity composed of two elements: (1) a certain classificatory concept, and (2) a set of related comparative concepts. We shall illustrate that with a concrete example of typological concept reconstruction. In his Economical Theory of the Feudal System, W. Kula formulates a combination of traits which he suggests F. Mauro uses to define commercial capitalism which appeared typical of Western Europe, and France in particular, from the 16 th to the 18 th century. That system has the following properties: (A) a quantitative domination of agriculture in the country’s economy, (B) a stagnating tendency of that agriculture, (C) a high level of commercialization opening enormous possibilities of trade to merchants, (D) the activity of merchants affects constant changes of the elements of the calculations of agricultural and industrial enterprises, where these elements are to a great extent dependent on such economic activity of merchants, precisely because of great commercialization, (E) gradual penetration of commercial capital into the production.9 That definition has been supplemented by Kula with the following characteristic remark treating the notion of “commercial capitalism” as

9

Kula (1976), p. 25.

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the typological concept of an empty range: “For our purposes, that model can have only the importance of the contrastive model.” 10 According to the interpretation that we have suggested, it is suitable to acknowledge that the typological concept of commercial capitalism is consisted of a classificatory concept, the content of which is a conjunction of properties A, B, C, D, E, and together with five comparative concepts , , , , . Such an entity can satisfy requirements to which typological concepts are usually subject. One should add a few words of explanation on the relationships between properties A, B, C, D, E, and relations , , , , . As a rule, however, each of the properties, e.g., property A adopts one of the intensity degrees, e.g., an extreme one, distinguished by the relation WA . To be more precise, property A is a class of abstractions with respect to relation RA which has been determined by a certain selected, e.g., extreme, object taken from the set ordered by relation WA . To conclude, let us briefly discuss the scientific usefulness of the typological concepts. It depends principally upon their systematizing and heuristic value. In particular, they are useful for the determination of evolutionary series of the examined phenomena and institutions. At the same time, the usefulness of a given concept is the greater, the greater the number of properties which are of interest to a given science and which change the intensity of the definitional properties of the concept in question. It is at this point that the analogy between historical and natural sciences can be drawn. For example, the Linnaean classification was considered as “artificial” and of little applicability from the point of view of biology. This is partly due to some of its concepts that designate plant and animal classes based on shared properties of which only a small number are interesting for biology.11 On the basis of these remarks it is clear that the non-emptiness of typological concepts is not a prerequisite of their usefulness. translated by Małgorzata Klimek

10 11

Ibid. Cf. Pawłowski (1959).

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REFERENCES Hempel, C.G. (1960). Concept Formation in Empirical Science. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Hempel, C.G. and P. Oppenheim (1936). Der Typusbegriff im Lichte der neuen Logik. Leiden. Kula, W. (1963). Problemy i metody historii gospodarczej [Problems and Methods of the History of the Economy]. Warszawa: PWN. Kula, W. (1976). The Economic Theory of the Feudal System. London: NLB. Lazari-Pawłowska, I. (1958). O pojęciu typologicznym w humanistyce [On the Typological Concept in the Humanities]. Studia Filozoficzne 4, 30-53. Ossowska, M. (1956). Moralność mieszczańska [The Burgher Morality]. Wrocław: Ossolineum. Pawłowski, T. (1959). Z metodologii nauk przyrodniczych [On the Methodology of Natural Sciences]. Warszawa: PWN. Pawłowski, T. (1963). Wskaźniki metryczne i skale w socjologii [Metric Indices and Scales in Sociology]. Studia Socjologiczne 2, 147-162. Pawłowski, T. (1964). Dobór wskaźników w naukach społecznych [Selection of Indices in Social Sciences]. Studia Logica 15, 79-102. Pawłowski, T. (1964). On the Relation between Structure of Quantitative Statements and the Types of Scales Used to Measure the Quantities. The Polish Sociological Bulletin 1, 35-43. Pawłowski, T. (1966). Rodzaje skal a struktura zdań stwierdzających związki między wielkościami. [Types of Scales and the Structure of Statements Ascertaining Connections between Magnitudes], pp. 685-698. In: T. Pawłowski (ed.), Logiczna teoria nauki. Warszawa: PWN. Pawłowski, T. (1969). Metodologiczne zagadnienia humanistyki [Methodological Problems of the Humanities]. Warszawa: PWN. Stevens, S.S. (1946). On the Theory of Scales of Measurement. Science 103, 677-680. Suppes, P. (1959). Measurement, Empirical Meaningfulness, and Three Valued Logic. In: C.W. Churchman and P. Ratoosh (eds.), Measurement: Definitions and Theories, pp. 129-143. New York: Wiley.

Jerzy Topolski THE DIRECTIVE OF RATIONALIZING HUMAN ACTIONS 1. The Assumption of Rationality While embarking on an interpretative explanation of human actions (activities) the researcher is bound to draw on the following: (a) the assumption of the rationality of the acting subject, (b) a hypothesis about the subject’s specific order of preference with respect to the effects of an action whose taking she/he contemplates, and with respect to the effects of alternative courses of action, (c) a hypothesis about the acting subject’s knowledge regarding the conditions in which she/he acts, and in particular the knowledge about the connection between the contemplated alternative courses of action and the effects (in the order of preference) which she/he takes into account. K. Marx and F. Engels, who used the humanist interpretation in their research, i.e., the interpretation pointing to the sense (purpose) of the actions undertaken, thus considered the interpreted human actions as rational actions, accepting and postulating at the same time (in a specific methodological directive) including the assumption of rationality into explanatory procedures. This directive is connected with the activistic understanding of the historical process by Marx and Engels, that is with regarding conscious and purposeful human actions as the driving force behind the historical process, an attitude which rules out looking for this driving force beyond man or in human actions which are not conscious or purposeful. 1 It should be emphasized that the directive of rationalizing human actions is one of the most important characteristics of the Marxist philosophy of the humanities, which is both anti-positivist and antipsychologistic. In the logical framework of explaining human actions, i.e., within what is understood by the humanist interpretation, the assumption of the rationality of the acting subject whose action (actions) 1

Compare Topolski (1973), pp. 255-272; reprinted in this volume, pp. 43-62.

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 121-136. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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we are explaining plays the role of an indispensable premise connecting two types of propositions. The first type involves propositions about the purpose (sense) of a specific action and the subject’s knowledge (or at least the belief) that by taking the contemplated action she/he will achieve the desired goal with. The other type is a proposition stating that the subject took this action. As a matter of fact, it is easy to see that without some additional premise we will not obtain the answer to the question of why our acting subject took the specific action: the third proposition does not follow from the two previous ones. From what premise, therefore, does it follow that, since the acting subject wants to achieve a certain goal, she/he will take this action then, convinced as she/he is about the purposefulness of a specific action under the given circumstances? The subject may be attaching great importance to a particular goal and be convinced (given his/her better or worse knowledge about the conditions in which the action occurs) that by taking the action she/he will achieve the preferred goal, but it does not unmistakably follow from these two propositions that the acting subject will undertake the action in question. For example, there would be no guarantee whatsoever that a subject intent on achieving a goal and conscious of the course of action to be taken would undertake such action if she/he were mentally deranged or acting in an irrational way. The acting subject must satisfy some conditions, which in methodological analysis as well as in research practice are formulated in various ways. The researchers who show a propensity for positivism tend to resort at this juncture to some law of psychology (or a conjunction of such laws) from which it supposedly follows that the action in question will be taken by the given subject (or a larger number of them). Generally, however, they do not supply any specific examples of such laws, which would be difficult to come by anyway. In order to explain why the action in question was taken, intuitionists (of the kind represented by W. Dilthey) advise in this case that the researcher put into operation a procedure of rather singular cognizance, that being some kind of intuitive, psychic “insight” into the inner world of the subject. It is in this way that our missing premise is supposedly discovered. Marx, whose methodological assumptions we are reconstructing, and whose standpoint, as we have said, is empirical anti-psychologism, accepts at this point the hypothesis of rationality (which, incidentally, implies a certain ideological directive), and applies it to the acting subject. In this way, as we have indicated, the action in question acquires the quality of a rational action.

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It would be useful to reiterate, however, that if considered from the standpoint of achieving expected results, the knowledge of the acting subject about the conditions of his/her actions may vary, and consequently it is also the assumption of rationality that may take on different forms. Thus, the action may take place in the conditions whereby there is a given probability of achieving the results in question (the situation involving some risk) as well as in conditions of uncertainty as to the degree of probability of attaining them. While there is no single recipe for rational behavior in all sorts of conditions, the assumption of rationality in the conditions of certainty (that is when, according to the best knowledge of the acting subject, the chosen course of action will indisputably lead to the expected result) is in a sense essential for our analysis and all other specific variants of the assumption of rationality can be considered only as its modified versions. In any case, the decision to take the action in question as considered from the vantage point of the assumption of rationality is solely a function of the knowledge of the acting subject and the social norms she/he professes. Other factors which can influence the decision to take action are not considered here. This assumption thus bears all the hallmarks of idealization because it refers only to individuals who are “purely” rational. 2. Rational Actions versus Purposeful Actions The assumption of the rationality of the acting subject seems so selfevident both in the research practice of the humanities and in our everyday conduct that it is difficult to understand the reason why it only became a subject of more detailed methodological analyses so relatively late.2 The humanist interpretation (in its intuitionistic version) was recommended by W. Dilthey, H. Rickert, and other representatives of the concept of introspective cognizance in the humanities, but it was naturally not accompanied by the assumption of rationality. The intuitive cognizance that they advocated saw no need for hypothetical constructs of various sorts, and was supposed to lead the scholar directly, i.e., without any assumptions whatsoever, to the inner mechanisms responsible for taking actions. It was only M. Weber, an opponent of the intuitionists, who devised a model of explaining human actions which was based on the assumption of rationality. However, the methodological 2

Cf. Kmita and Nowak (1969), p. 58.

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status of this assumption (as well as all of Weber’s concepts of ideal types) is not identical with the status of rationality as it interpreted and applied by Marx. It is also in Marxist literature that we often encounter an interpretation of the assumption of rationality which is incompatible with such understanding of this concept as is evident in Marx’s methodological proposals and research practice. However, in the former and in the latter case the dissimilarities with respect to Marx’s concepts are of a different nature. As is well known, Weber understands his ideal types only in an instrumentalistic way, that is as a tool, which makes it easier for the researcher to “order” the reality. On the other hand, it is characteristic of Marx to understand the idealizing concepts in a realistic way, including such a concept as a “rational action.” Nonetheless, there is an agreement between both standpoints that the assumption of rationality is idealizing in nature (as is an idealizational theory, a model theory). The case of many Marxist scholars is quite opposite in this respect. Fearful to the point of obsession of being charged with making their assertions about reality irrelevant to reality itself or, in other words, of being charged with a lack of “concreteness” in their reasoning (a feature which is supposedly a hallmark of Marxist thought), those scholars ignore the idealizing (model) procedure of Marx’s research, and even “defend” Marx against attributing the use of such a method to him. They point to the “right and obligation of a theory to reflect the specific historical diversity of particular processes and phenomena.”3 Also, they assert that “a Marxist definition, even general in nature, must be precise and concrete,” 4 and simultaneously deny that “Marx’s method” has anything in common with the “model method” or that “Marx’s research had the character of a model and a construct.” This is said to be because “concrete reality for Marx is both the point of departure and his final destination,”5 which is incidentally true. These scholars generally deny that Marx’s research into the reality involved using theoretical constructs. For them, the case is simple in a positivist and one-directional way – one simply departs from the “perception of the existing reality” or “concrete observation,” which is then subjected to the process of selection and assigned into categories and types.6 This fear of a theory or a model has its repercussions in the interpretation of human actions. The problem of the rationality of human 3

Bobińska (1964), p. 213. Ibid., p. 193. 5 Żurawicki (1969), pp. 138-139. 6 Cf. ibid., and Bobińska (1964), p. 214. 4

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actions is not important for of on the scholars quoted above because “individual . . . motives cannot have decisive importance in the realm of mass phenomena,” 7 and the “directive of the rational explanation of human actions runs against serious objections.” 8 Not only do we have here a flawed understanding of rationality (supposedly, “in their economic activity, people are always directed by rational motives”), but also an explicit dismissal of this essential methodological directive. The insufficient awareness of the essential characteristics of Marx’s model method, which can be frequently encountered in Marxist literature, leads some scholars to interpret the assumption of rationality as a hypothesis about real human behavior, i.e., as an empirical hypothesis expected to be literally put into action by specific real-life acting subjects.9 Departing from this faulty premise, some Marxist economists criticize the notion of homo economicus, which still persists in nonMarxist economics, on the grounds that it does not refer to real-life people, while their non-Marxist opponents lecture Marx’s followers that human beings are not always rational and are not always motivated by the principle of thriftiness in their economic activities. If the assumption of rationality is treated as a simple empirical hypothesis or, in other words, as an assertion of factual character, such an approach leads to at least two ways of deviating from Marx’s understanding of this principle which can be encountered in literature. The first deviation is the selective historical application of the principle of rationality only to some periods in the development of humankind. This is the case, for example, of O. Lange. Having distinguished between economic activities “based on custom and tradition” on the one hand and “rational activities” on the other, Lange claims that the latter (as based on reasoning) emerged only gradually: “the transition from the form of economic activity based on custom and tradition to the rational economic activity, that is the rationalization of economic activity occurs gradually, as the monetary economy develops.” 10 In this view, neither a serf nor (even less so) a member of earlier societies acted rationally; it was only at the point of emergence of the capitalist enterprise that “the economic activity was directed for the first time at the one and only goal of acquiring a profit”11 that the situation changed. As we shall see further, Marx’s assumption of 7

Żurawicki (1969), p. 135. Ibid., p. 136. 9 Cf. Nowak (1970), pp. 60-62. 10 Lange (1959), p. 141. 11 Ibid., p. 142. 8

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rationality understood as an idealizing concept makes it possible to avoid such accumulation of mistakes as was the case with regarding the capitalist entrepreneur as the first to act to maximize his profits. Why should not a feudal landlord act rationally too, i.e., according to his best knowledge and judgment? On the other hand, it is easy to see that one cannot claim, as Lange does, that the real concrete (i.e., every single) capitalist considers the financial gain as his “one and only” goal. Only the wider application of the principle of rationality to all human actions throughout history and its treatment as a statement having the characteristics of a model and idealization allows us to present the problem in a correct way. The second of the mentioned consequences of the strictly empirical understanding of the assumption of rationality is the failure to perceive the difference between the notions of rational action and purposeful action. For example, L. von Mises in his work entitled Human Action (1949) claims that all conscious, purposeful human activity is tantamount to rational activity, in view of which the term ‘rational action’ is always pleonastic.12 Such interpretation of the problem may be found more frequently, including Marxist literature. Yet the appropriate interpretation of Marx’s views on the subject in question should take the following form. The purposeful action could be treated in fact as a concretized equivalent of rational action; rational action being the action subjectively intended by an idealized subject and the purposeful action being the action that is actually executed. In other words, purposeful action is the kind of action determined not only (as was the case with rational action) by the knowledge of the acting subject and the hierarchy of his/her values (primary factors), but also by various secondary factors such as, first and foremost, uncontrolled emotions, unconscious impulses or pathological deviations. Therefore, each rational action may be said to be an idealized purposeful action, with the proviso that, because of those “interfering” factors, not every purposeful action is simultaneously a (completely) rational action. It should be emphasized that what is in question here constitutes only a deviation from rational action, because Marx’s assumption of rationality is universal. Only in the case of individuals with pathological mental traits those “interfering” factors may become so pronounced that it will not be possible any longer to talk about idealization in terms of rational action, although it is debatable whether this action could perhaps be treated as purposeful action in some broader sense. 12

This example is supplied by Lange (1959), p. 140.

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At this juncture, we encounter another issue to which some attention should be devoted. It concerns the problem of the so-called irrational or non-rational human actions. It seems that this type of irrationality can be understood in at least two ways. Firstly, the term irrational or non-rational action could denote such action which is influenced to a large extent by factors diverting the acting subject from the course of action based on his/her knowledge and social norms (e.g., emotions). This is the case of an inner “inconsistency” of actions. Secondly, the term irrational or non-rational action could also denote an action which is predetermined by the knowledge and values of the acting subject, but the knowledge in question is considered by the scholar ex post facto as inadequate and ineffective. Nevertheless, for the acting subject such an action constitutes a rational action and only in the light of later knowledge does it turn out to be irrational or non-rational, the latter term being usually applied to actions distorted by beliefs, magic, the subconscious, etc. For example, a farmer who resorted in the past to some magical procedures to ensure good harvests acted rationally from the vantage point of his knowledge, notwithstanding the fact that today we would brand such actions as irrational because we are aware of their futility. Returning to the problem of rational actions and purposeful actions, one should add that purposeful actions, being (more or less) concretized rational actions, refer to real-life concrete people, while rational actions (as idealizations) refer to “ideal” people who are motivated exclusively by their knowledge and social norms. Marx assumes that real-life people (in general) act consciously and purposefully, being directed by the principles of rationality, and any departures from this standard do not contradict his assertion about the active role of man in history. The difference between rational action and purposeful action can also be presented as two functions showing both kinds of actions. The rational action (or behavior) would (in a general sense) be presented in such a case as the following relation: Dr = f (W, N) where Dr denotes the class of actions, W stands for the classes of various systems of elements of knowledge according to which the individual may act, and N denotes the class of various systems of social norms which can be accepted by the individual. On the other hand, purposeful action (of an individual) could be presented as another function: Dci = f (Wi, Nj , Ek)

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where Dci denotes an individual purposeful action, Wi is the specific knowledge of a given individual a given time and place, N stands for the system of norms professed by the individual, and Ek designates additional factors influencing the course of the action Dci. To sum up this part of our discussion, the general methodological status of Marx’s assumption of rationality is predetermined principally by the two following theses: (i) the thesis about the idealizing nature of the assumption of rationality, as opposed to the literal treatment of this assumption, (ii) the thesis about the realistic nature of the assumption of rationality, as opposed to its instrumentalist interpretation. Clearly, the general methodological status of Marx’s assumption of rationality is analogous to the status of the principles of idealization, which have been discussed earlier. Let us now examine more closely how the assumption of rationality thus interpreted was used by Marx in his research. 3. The Two Types of Application of the Assumption of Rationality The directive of rationalizing human actions, which legitimizes the interpretation of such actions through reconstructing their sense (i.e., the preferred effects) reflecting the knowledge and the social norms of the acting subjects, is used by Marx (as well as Engels and Lenin) in their research in two versions: (i) with respect to analyses of a more theoretical (i.e., model) nature, of which Marx’s Capital, a work devoted to the construction of a dynamic theory of the capitalist economy, is the most classic example, (ii) with respect to analyses of a more historical nature, of which The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte, a work devoted to reconstructing a particular historical event, is a classic example. Yet the fundamental question underlying both of these cases remains the same: how are we to explain human actions without reference to the intuitive “insight” into the inner world of the acting subject? At this point, Marx chooses the only acceptable and correct path that is left, which involves accepting the assumption of rationality as a point of departure in his research. This assumption, without the dubious “psychologizing,” allows us to answer the question of why the action in

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question was taken. Simultaneously, the assumption of rationality makes possible, and even facilitates, the search for possible “interfering” factors, i.e., the transfer of our research onto the level of real-life actions of concrete individuals. In the latter case, the assumption of the rationality of our subject’s actions will take the form of the assumption of purposefulness of his or her actions. It does not change, however, our research situation in any significant way; the assumption of purposefulness (if we consider human actions as conscious) is simply a specific result of the process of concretization, which excludes various idealizing assumptions (such as, for example, the assumption of the absence of emotional factors, i.e., of the full consistency of the subject’s actions, or the assumption of absence of myths which could hold sway over the subject’s mind and obscure his/her clear view of reality). 4. The Role of the Assumption of Rationality in Marx’s Capital In Capital, Marx uses the notion of “the rationally acting capitalist.” With some significant reservations, the notion may be regarded as an application of the construct homo economicus, interpreted idealistically, to capitalism. Beside this basic notion of “the rational capitalist,” Capital presents equally rational figures of the landowner, the capitalist farmer, and representatives of other classes: the worker and the peasant. Needless to say, without the assumption of rationality being applied so broadly, Marx would not have been able to carry out his theoretical analysis of all the laws and economic categories which we see in his work. In his preface to the first edition of Capital (1867) Marx makes an explicit stipulation that he will not analyze real-life capitalists or landowners with all the individual differences between them, but capitalists (or landowners) as abstract people typifying capitalist and class relations, and motivated – as the most preferred goal – by the pursuit of maximum profit: To prevent possible misunderstanding, a word of comment. The capitalist and the landlord are by no means depicted in couleur de rose. But here individuals are dealt with only in so far as they are the personifications of economic categories, embodiments of particular class-relations and class-interests. 13

It is this capitalist embodying the capitalist way of production which is the rational capitalist for Marx.

13

Marx (1951), p. 6.

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The aim of such a capitalist is, needless to say, to maximize profit. Marx warns however, that one should recognize the difference at this juncture between a specific real-live human being possessed by this kind of greed on the one hand, and an abstract rational capitalist, i.e., the effect of an idealized construct, on the other. Consequently, Marx writes about both the rational capitalist and an individual “miser.” He considers the distinction to be so crucial that it is repeated many times, in its most complete form when Marx analyzes such fundamental problems as the transformation of money into capital and the transformation of surplus value into capital: As a conscious representative of this movement [i.e., transformation of money into capital; footnote by J.T.], the money owner becomes a capitalist. He, or rather his pocket, is the point from which the money starts and to which it returns. The expansion of value, which is the objective basis or main-spring of the M – C – M circulation, becomes his subjective aim, and it is only in so far as the appropriation of ever more and more wealth in the abstract becomes the sole motive of his operations, that he functions as a capitalist, that is, as capital personified and endowed with consciousness and a will. Use values must therefore never be looked upon as the real aim of the capitalist; neither must the profit on any single transaction. The restless never-ending process of profit-making alone is what he aims at. This boundless greed after riches, this passionate chase after exchange value, is common to the capitalist and the miser; but while the miser is merely a capitalist gone mad, the capitalist is a rational miser. 14

Marx makes similar assertions when he examines, as we said earlier, the accumulation of capital. He emphasizes that what “spurs the capitalist in to action . . . as far as he is personified capital” is not: values in use and their enjoyment, but exchange value and its augmentation . . . Fanatically bent on making value expand itself, he ruthlessly forces the human race to produce for the production’s sake. . . . Only as personified capital is the capitalist respectable. As such, he shares with the miser the passion for wealth as wealth. But that which in the miser is a mere idiosyncrasy in the capitalist is the effect of the social mechanism, of which he is but one of the cogs. . . . So far, therefore, as his actions are a mere function of capital, capital being endowed, in his person, with consciousness and will, his own private consumption is a robbery perpetrated on accumulation.15

It should be added that Marx’s characterization of the capitalist as a rational being, i.e., one which reflects the reality but only in its most essential relations, bears one more, somewhat supplementary, reference to reality (which, by the way, once again underscores the historical validity of Marx’s research method). Thus, beside the construct of the 14 15

Ibid., pp. 162-163. Ibid., p. 638.

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“classical” capitalist (who, chronologically speaking, appears earlier) Marx also introduces the figure of the (equally rational) “modernized” capitalist. The latter is endowed with more characteristics of a concrete man. Although he still aims to maximize profits (nothing changes with respect to that), he looks at the process of accumulation in a different way: As capitalist production, accumulation and wealth develop, the capitalist ceases to be the mere incarnation of capital. He has a fellow feeling for his own Adam, and his education gradually enables him to smile at the rage for asceticism as a mere prejudice of the old-fashioned miser. While the capitalist of the classical type brands individual consumption as a sin against his function, and as “abstinence” from accumulating, the modernized capitalist is capable of looking upon accumulation as “abstinence” from pleasure. 16

As we pointed out earlier, in Capital Marx applies the assumption of rationality not only to capitalists. When he examines the issue of transformation of surplus profits on agricultural rents, he points to a different conduct of the industrial capitalist on the one hand and the small agricultural producer on the other, which result from their different assessment of the conditions of their actions (i.e., different knowledge about these conditions). Thus, for the small agricultural producer, who either has no capital or can get it only at a high interest, the part of the product which represents his wage constitutes his income, whereas for the capitalist it constitutes his advanced capital. This is why small agricultural producers consider only expending their product labor as parting with their wealth, while they do not consider expending their live labor as the cost. “Obviously,” writes Marx, “they want to sell their labor for the highest price; but even selling it below value and below the capitalist product price still seems to them as some gain, as long as this gain is not accounted for by some debt or mortgage, etc. On the other hand, for the capitalist both expending variable capital and constant capital is tantamount to advancing capital.” But as Marx points out, the differences in assessing live labor may also exist among the capitalists. He thereby “suspends” (for the sake of a specific analysis), with respect to some capitalists, one of the traits with which he endowed the abstract capitalist. By no means, however, does the capitalist thereby become “less rational” for us, because he is convinced that he acts rationally (i.e., follows inadequate knowledge). “Although the profit comes only from surplus labor, that is from expending variable capital, the particular

16

Ibid., pp. 639-640.

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capitalist may believe that live labor is the most expensive element of the production costs, which above all should be reduced to a minimum.” 17 Marx also analyzes the actions of the capitalist farmer in the same way, reconstructing his rational decisions about using different classes of soil for growing crops and making capital investments. The free laborer also appears in Capital in a more abstract and more concrete version. It would be inconceivable for the abstract (rational) capitalist to be juxtaposed on the pages of Capital with the concrete laborer. The abstract laborer, as Marx indicates, is free in two respects: For the conversion of his money into capital, therefore, the money owner must meet in the market with the free laborer, free in the double sense, that as a free man he can dispose of his labor power as his own commodity, and that, on the other hand, he has no other commodity for sale, is short of everything that is necessary for realizing his labor power.18

The aim of the laborer is to satisfy his: so-called necessary wants, [which] to a great extent depend on the degree of civilization of a country, more particularly on the conditions under which, and consequently on the habits and the degree of comfort in which, the class of free laborers has been formed. 19

The above examples of analyses taken from Marx’s research practice and used in Capital indicate clearly how broadly Marx applied the assumption of rationality. 5. The Actions of Social Groups As we pointed out earlier, the rationalization of acting subjects (i.e., people) was employed by Marx (as well as by Engels and Lenin) to interpret human actions not only in analyses that were more theoretical in nature, but also in those reconstructing specific historical events. Explaining human actions thus assumed the form of the humanist interpretation, which focuses on the knowledge and hierarchy of values of acting subjects. Needless to say, such explanation would have been impossible without accepting the assumption of rationality which, as we pointed out, is not incompatible with the recognition in human actions of all kinds of departures from rationality. Such departures are regarded as results of secondary factors interfering with the direct influence of the 17

Marx (1959), pp. 260-261. Marx (1951), p. 179. 19 Ibid., pp. 181-182. 18

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knowledge and the system of values on the decision to take action (e.g., some mechanisms of psychology, or temporary situations), or as results of incomplete or inadequate knowledge about the conditions of these actions. The assumption of rationality is applied in Marx’s historical analyses both with respect to actions of individuals and actions of groups of people (mainly classes), the analyses of the latter being particularly productive. Both individuals and groups appearing in these analyses are not abstract, though realistically understood, idealized categories such as the capitalists and the free laborers in Capital. As the only thing that they have in common with those abstract categories is the assumption of rationality, they are closely connected with a specific time and place. These concrete individuals or groups do not always act according to adequate knowledge about the conditions of their actions; they can be misled by appearances, symbols and slogans, yet they still strive to attain their specific goals. Let us focus on Marx’s penetrating analyses of the attitudes of the French peasantry to Louis Bonaparte. French peasants desired (by and large) to safeguard the existence and favorable enough conditions for farming their smallholdings in the face of the constantly deteriorating situation. This desire can be thus recognized as the dominant aim of their actions (as accepted by Marx in The Class Struggle in France and The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte). In Marx’s opinion, this is the rationale of their political actions with respect to Louis Bonaparte. The knowledge that they had was not coherent. Instead, it was a mixture of sober opinions and irrational beliefs. “Historical tradition,” writes Marx, “engendered a superstitious belief among the French peasants that a man named Napoleon will shower them with all sorts of benefits.” 20 Assuming the rationality of their actions, i.e., actions based on their knowledge, this induced them to support Louis Bonaparte. On the other hand, another historical tradition, indelibly imprinted on the peasant’s mind and constituting part of his knowledge about the conditions of his actions, moved him in the opposite direction. The French peasant, who obviously suffered under the burden of particularly oppressive taxes, was singularly sensitive about them. The wine tax was the most unpopular tax: The hatred of the wine tax on the part of the common people may be explained by the fact that it combines all the most hated characteristics of the French system of taxation. . . . And France has a population of almost 12 million people toiling in the vineyards. It is therefore easy to understand the hatred of this tax on the part 20

Marx (1949a), p. 113.

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of the populace at large, and the fanatical intensity of this hatred among the peasants in particular. What is more, the restoration of this tax was not seen by them as one more or less isolated event. Peasants have a historical tradition of their own, which is handed down from father to son. It is in this school of history that rumors spread that every government promises the abolition of the wine tax when it wants to deceive peasants, and keeps or restores the tax when peasants have already been deceived. It is through the wine tax that the peasant recognizes the character of the government, its intention. The restoration of the wine tax on the 20 December [1849; footnote by J.T.] meant: Louis Bonaparte is just like the others. Yet he was no means like the others, he was invented by the peasants. And suddenly in the petitions against the wine tax, the peasants in the millions of signatures contradicted the very votes which only a year earlier they cast in favor of “his uncle’s nephew.” 21

Needless to say, they nonetheless supported Bonaparte’s coup: History took them for their word and the minds of most of them were still to such an extent clouded by illusions that even in those departments which were considered as mostly leaning towards the reds, the peasant populace openly voted for Bonaparte. 22

It is not difficult to reconstruct the method of explaining actions used in the following cases: (i) the French peasants in the years 1848-1851 followed certain knowledge which encompassed: “the beliefs connected with the name Napoleon” as well as taking the attitude of the government to the wine tax as an indication of the government’s disposition towards peasants, (ii) those peasants aimed to ensure the existence of their smallholdings and favorable enough conditions of farming their land, (iii) the peasants met the criteria of the assumption of rationality, (iv) the peasants supported Napoleon but simultaneously opposed the wine tax (which was approved by Louis Bonaparte). In these very analyses, Marx shows why the working class of the time was not yet able to “carry out its own revolution,” i.e., to set such a goal. Marx’s formulation of the meaning of their struggle (“to advance one’s interests at the side of the bourgeoisie”) allowed the interpretation of goals in such terms. For the proletariat, the vote for Napoleon meant the removal of Cavaignac, the downfall of the Constitutional Assembly, the overthrow of the bourgeois republicanism and the reversal of the June victory. The petty bourgeoisie saw in this vote “the domination of the 21 22

Marx (1949b), p.108. Marx (1949a), p. 115.

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borrower over the creditor,” the army voted “against the idyll of peace and in favor of war.” Finally, for the majority of the big bourgeoisie “the vote for Napoleon marked a clear break with the fraction which the bourgeoisie had to use for a moment against the revolution, but which became unbearable when it tried to perpetuate its temporary position and enshrine it in the spirit of the constitution.” 23 It might be useful to add that Marx employs a kind of dual idealization for explaining group actions. Firstly, he assumes that the group acts in cohesion, i.e., in accordance with the aim of the group, which is simultaneously the aim of its members (at least their majority). Secondly, he employs the regular assumption of rationality. In other words, the assumption of rationality of individual members of the group is transferred onto the whole group. In actuality, the conscious and planned group action occurs only in some cases. Engels wrote: “It is people themselves who create their own history, but as yet even in a strictly isolated particular society they are not directed by a common will and they do not follow a common plan.”24 The planned group action requires more or less developed organization (e.g., a political party) which makes it possible to formulate the aims of actions and prepare strategies for the most rational pursuit of these aims. The problems of such actions were explored in greater detail by Lenin in his comprehensive studies of the revolution, the state and the party. translated by Katarzyna Radke REFERENCES Bobińska, C. (1964). Historyk, fakt, metoda [Historian, Fact, Method]. Warszawa: Książka i Wiedza. Kmita, J. and L. Nowak (1969). O racjonalizującym charakterze badań humanistycznych. [On the Rationalizing Character of Humanist Research]. Studia Filozoficzne 5, 49-77. Lange, O. (1959). Ekonomia polityczna, t. I [Political Economics, vol. 1]. Warszawa: PWN. Marx, K. (1949a). 18 Brumaire’a Ludwika Bonaparte [The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte]. Warszawa: Książka i Wiedza. Marx, K. (1949b). Walki klasowe we Francji 1848 - 1850 [The Class Struggle in France 1848-1850]. Warszawa: Książka i Wiedza. Marx, K. (1951). Kapitał, t. I [Capital, vol. 1]. Warszawa: Książka i Wiedza. Marx, K. (1959). Kapitał, t. III, cz. 3 [Capital, vol. 3, part 2]. Warszawa: Książka i Wiedza. 23 24

Marx (1949b), p. 65. Marx and Engels (1957), pp. 346-347.

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Marx, K. and F. Engels (1957). Listy o „Kapitale” [Letters about “Capital”]. Warszawa: Książka i Wiedza. Nowak, L. (1970). Teorie racjonalnego zachowania jako teorie modelowe [Theories of Rational Behavior as Model Theories]. Studia Metodologiczne 7, 59-89. Topolski, J. (1973). Aktywistyczna koncepcja procesu dziejowego [The Activistic Concept of the Historical Process]. In: J. Kmita (ed.), Elementy marksistowskiej metodologii humanistyki [Elements of the Marxist Methodology of the Humanities], pp. 255272. Poznań: Wydawnictwo Poznańskie. Żurawicki, S. (1969). Miejsce “Kapitału” K. Marksa w rozwoju metodologii nauk [The Place of Marx’s “Capital” in the Development of Methodology of Sciences]. Studia Filozoficzne 3, 133-143.

Krzysztof Brzechczyn METHODOLOGICAL PECULIARITIES OF HISTORY IN LIGHT OF IDEALIZATIONAL THEORY OF SCIENCE

1. Introduction It is maintained in contemporary methodology of science that idealization of investigated reality is one of the principal methods of research. The theoretician investigating certain phenomenon does not approach the object of study in all its complexity and complication but focuses on such its aspects which are recognized principal from his theoretical perspective, ignoring some properties of the phenomenon under research. On the force of idealizing assumptions, remaining secondary properties of investigating reality are omitted. Scientific cognition does not depend, then, on faithful imitation of reality but on its deformation that is able to demonstrate the most essential associations and relationships. It is only later, at the second stage of scientific research, that the deformed reality becomes “more realistic,” and the researcher introduces into the simplified approach of the investigated object its secondary aspects which were omitted in the preliminary model and which modify crucial laws and relationships. A standard example of the scientific conduct sketched above in the idealizational theory of science (hereinafter referred to as ITS) is a set of procedures adopted in natural sciences and particularly in physics.1 That leads to underestimation of methodological peculiarities of the humanities, even those which can be expressed in the conceptual apparatus of ITS. One of such issues, as Hans-George Gadamer remarks, is the paradox of “small causes and great effects”: 1 Introductory formulation of the method of idealization has been presented in Nowak (1971); whereas a mature reconstruction of that theory may be found in Nowak (1977a, English: 1980).

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 137-157. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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An old principle of knowing the nature is the equality of a cause and an effect, and in experiencing history it is the opposite: small causes may bring about great effects. It is a surprise that belongs to the experience of man immersed in history. . . . People know what has been planned, and understand what factors have been set working, they know what is expected of them, but they forget about unpredictable, unplanned and surprising events. 2

Gadamer solves the paradox of small causes and great effects on the metaphysical plane. He claims that causes in the social world act in teleological way. Human history is then directed by the previously assigned aim. Therefore, history: seems to be governed, as if it were a process of production, by the previously allocated aim, as if they strove for the shape that had been defined before, let us say, the shape of the ripe living organism; that all happens as if what originally existed put itself into motion which aims at the final form: the material which we preferably call the matter appears by itself to motivate the process of growth and change. 3

The discussion on the paradox of small causes and great effects may be conducted at the level of metaphysics but it is also worth considering whether that paradox could be also solved by smaller means without committing to inevitably controversial, age-long disputes of metaphysicians. The paradox of small causes and great effects can be also discussed on the methodological plane. In the further part of the present chapter I will characterize the paradox of small causes and great effects, which was perceived by Gadamer, in terms of the idealizational theory of science, though it is also possible to interpret that paradox using the language of other methodological theories. 2. Basic Concepts of the Idealizational Theory of Science Let me characterize two fundamental concepts of the idealization theory of science that are useful for the purposes of the present paper: the concept of influence and that of essentiality. Each magnitude F under study has a number of determinants {H, p k, . . . , p 2 , p1 } that influence it in different ways. The influence in question can be ordered by distinguishing main and secondary factors in an essential structure of the magnitude studied F. According to this conception, the influence of magnitude H on magnitude F occurs when adopting a certain value by H

2 3

Gadamer (1979), p. 81. Ibid., p. 85.

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excludes the adoption of any value by F. 4 It may be said metaphorically that magnitude F under the influence of factor H has a restricted “choice” of intensity. The influence of one factor on the other is thus determined by a set of values WF (H ) that the magnitude determined cannot adopt. Set WF (H ) can also be named the level or power of influence of factor H on magnitude F under study. I am going to use these terms interchangeably. Such an account of influence also allows explaining the concept of being “more essential.” Magnitude H is more essential to F if the power of influence of magnitude H on F exceeds the power of influence of factor p on F. This can be demonstrated graphically in the following way: F

WF(H)

WF(p)

H

p

Fig. 1. The power of influence of factors H and p on F. Key to symbols: W F (H ) – the domain of influence of the factor H on F; W F (p) – the domain of influence of the factor p on F.

Thus, the above figure shows the power of influence of factors H and p on the phenomenon under investigation. The power of influence of the factor H is greater than the power of influence of the factor p if the set WF (H ) is composed of more elements than the set WF (p); so the factor H is more essential to the magnitude F than the factor p. With the use of the concepts of “essential” and “more essential” defined above, it is possible to reconstruct the essential structure of the examined magnitude. Generally speaking, the reconstruction of the essential structure of the phenomena under investigation depends upon the identification of factors, which in any way affect the examined magnitude, as well as upon the ordering of the power of influence: from the strongest to the weakest. Figuratively, the order of the power of influence of several factors upon the examined phenomenon can be presented in the following form:

4

Nowak (1989a), p. 14; Paprzycka and Paprzycki (1992b), pp. 279-283.

Krzysztof Brzechczyn

140 F

H

A

B

C

...N

WF(H)

WF(A)

WF(B)

WF(C) WF(. . . N) Fig. 2. The order of the power of influence of the factors H, A, B, C, D, . . . , N upon F.

The order of the power of influence of particular factors upon phenomenon F under study, i.e., indicates that the power of influence of factor H in consideration of phenomenon F under study is the greatest because set WF (H ) contains the largest number of elements. The power of influence of factor A in consideration of phenomenon F under study is lesser than H but greater than B because set WF (A) contains fewer elements than set WF (H ) but more elements than set WF(B), etc. The smallest power of influence is characteristic of factor N, the area of influence of which upon the examined phenomenon F is the smallest. 3. Two Types of Essential Structures In their research practice, scientists meet two types of essential structures. In the first case it is enough to examine the main factor, approximately define the influence of secondary factors and on the basis of an approximated idealizational law formulate a prognosis which will satisfactorily define the behavior of the phenomenon at hand. In the second case, ascertaining the influence of the main factor proves to be insufficient to formulate the prognosis with the requested degree of precision. In such circumstances, it is necessary to concretize the

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idealizational law almost fully. Furthermore, after the reception of duly precise theorem the influence of the remaining but less important secondary factors is approximated. It is only then, after the procedures of concretization and approximation of idealizational law were implemented, that such prognosis can be formulated, which to a sufficient degree in a given time and in a given kind of science will define the behavior of the phenomenon under study. 5 While exploring that problem, Katarzyna Paprzycka and Marcin Paprzycki use the example of a tossed coin. Knowledge of two main important factors, i.e., the coin’s weight and the distance of the fall prove to be of little use in finding the side on which it fell. Therefore, in order to formulate a precise prognosis one should take into account the influence of the remaining factors: the force of the toss, the rate of rotation around the axis, the shape, etc. In the face of the phenomena, which are characterized by different types of essential structures, a researcher resorts to different strategies of constructing idealizational scientific theories. In the first case, the researcher, after defining the influence of the main factor, proceeds to approximate the influence of secondary factors, arriving at a satisfactory explanation of the examined phenomenon. By contrast, in the second case the researcher, after formulating the idealizational law, is obliged to concretize it almost fully. Only then can she/he approximate the influence of secondary factors and come forward with satisfactory explanation of the phenomenon under study. On the basis of the above distinction, it is possible to identify two types of essential structures: an essential structure dominated by the main factor and an essential structure dominated by a class of secondary factors. In an essential structure dominated by the main factor the power of influence that it exerts is greater than the sum of the power of influence of secondary factors. And in an essential structure dominated 5 Cf. Paprzycka and Paprzycki (1992a), pp. 255-265. The authors ponder on the problem of why it is enough to recreate the influence of the main factor in order to satisfactorily explain and predict the conduct of certain phenomena, while each subsequent exemplification enhances the accuracy of the initial idealizational law. In other cases, in order to be able to explain the conduct of given phenomena, it is necessary to introduce almost all factors into the models of a given theory. That paradox, according to the authors, is due to the issue of separating the exclusion ranges of factors which influence a given magnitude F. If the exclusion ranges of individual factors are separate, then each subsequent exemplification increases the accuracy of the idealizational law. However, if the exclusion ranges of individual factors overlap or are included one in another, then the subsequent exemplifications do not increase the accuracy of the idealizational law. In such case it is necessary to take into account the influence of “almost all” factors.

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by secondary factors, their total influence is greater than the influence exerted by the main factor, although the power of the latter influence is, by definition of an essential structure, greater than the power of influence of each secondary factor taken separately. The two types of essential structures in question can be presented in the following way: F

F

WF(H)

WF(p1, . . . , pk)

WF(p1, . . . , pk)

WF(H)

Fig. 3. Two types of essential structure. Left: an essential structure dominated by the main factor; right: one dominated by secondary factors.

This distinction is useful for explaining differences between two types of phenomena. The approximation of the idealizational law is sufficient to explain phenomena of the essential structure dominated by the main factor. In the structure of that type, the advantage of the main factor over secondary ones is so significant that it is sufficient to ascertain the influence of the main determinant for a given phenomenon. On the other hand, in the face of the phenomena of the essential structure dominated by a class of secondary factors, almost full concretization of the idealizational law should be used, combined with an approximation of the concretized theorem. Since in that type of structure the power of influence of the main factor is smaller than the power sum of influences of a class of secondary factors, ascertaining the influence of the main determinant by itself is insufficient to explain the phenomenon under study. Hence, a number of concretizations of the preliminary idealizational law is being conducted. The first type of essential structures, which is dominated by the main factor, seems to be characteristic of the phenomena of the natural world. By contrast, the second type of essential structures, dominated by a class of secondary factors, is characteristic of the phenomena of the social world. The differences between phenomena belonging to the natural and social worlds are one of the sources of the methodological peculiarity of the humanities. The evidence for the issue discussed above can be found, e.g., in historians’ research practice. In the historical sciences, it is unusual to

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explain any phenomenon by revoking to the influence of only one factor. As a rule, explanations made by the historians are multifactoral. For instance, Henryk Samsonowicz in his considerations of the reasons for the rise of Protestantism in 16 th century Poland states that “there were many factors for such a rapid growth of the Reformation.”6 Samsonowicz lists two groups of such factors. The first included those which discouraged Catholicism, whereas the other comprised the advantages offered by conversion to Protestantism.7 The first group included the prevailing public disapproval of the Catholic Church, which ensued from treating that institution as ideological embodiment of the social order. On that account, the burghers resisted the Church as much as they were deterred from running their own businesses by the kind of piety that was promoted. The peasantry, too, expressed their disapproval of the Church, since they had to pay the tithes. The held true for the nobility and part of the magnates who envied the economic wealth of that institution. Moreover, it was the depravity among the clergy, i.e., the dissipation and lack of the moral fiber that brought that social group into disrepute. The additional factor that undermined the authority of the Church was the poor intellectual standards of most of the priesthood. Insufficient knowledge, for example inadequate familiarity with the Bible on the part of Catholic priests, was even more meaningful in the 16th century, when along with the Gutenberg’s invention the book was becoming a mass product and comprehensive of the society education was on the rise. On the other hand, H. Samsonowicz points to many features of Protestantism which affected its attractiveness for the social elites in sixteenth-century Poland. First of all, according to the Samsonowicz’s opinion, the denomination provided an arsenal for the battle against the political and economic privileges of the clergy, added to which the Reformation itself was the expression of the development of national consciousness. It broke with medieval cosmopolitism of Catholicism to institute national churches instead. In the domain of culture, the Polish language replaced Latin. Also, the democratic system of the Calvinist communes, more than the Catholic centralism, came in useful to the nobility, which battled to strengthen the democracy of the nobility. Protestantism was intellectually more attractive than Catholicism since it stressed the importance of human’s progress and stimulated, through diligent studies of the Bible, an individual study of the faith. It is evident from the above example that the multifactoral interpretation is a natural kind of explanation used in history. The 6 7

Samsonowicz (1985), p. 159. Ibid., pp. 159-161.

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historian whom I quoted above does not limit his illustration to one reason which, from his perspective, was responsible for the dissemination of the ideas of Protestantism. Instead, he gives at least eight separate factors which, while acting at the same time, contributed to the development of the Reformation in sixteenth-century Poland. 4. When Small Causes Bring about Great Effects: The Explication of the Cascade Effect In essential structures dominated by a class of secondary factors yet another effect can occur. Frequently, some phenomena that were subject to factors that exert main influence on them in a given period of time are influenced by new, different secondary circumstances. Initially, the influence of these co-existing, accidental factors merely modifies fundamental regularities, but then it introduces essential disturbances into them, and finally balances the influence of the main factor on the phenomenon under investigation. In the final stage, the accumulation of these accidental factors that occur together may be so vast that it surpasses the influence of a given regularity that the phenomenon under investigation was subject to so far. The influence of the main factor may then be said to be overbalanced by, figuratively speaking, a “cascade” of secondary factors, the common influence of which on the phenomenon under investigation is greater than the influence of the main factor. A simple cascade effect consists in introducing subsequent secondary factors. For an essential structure dominated in an initial stage by the main factor under the influence of a gradual occurrence of new secondary factors becomes transformed into an essential structure dominated by secondary factors. An inverted cascade effect is the disappearance of the influence of some secondary factors that brings the domination of the main factor back again. Thus, in a simple cascade effect an essential structure of the first type becomes gradually transformed in an essential structure of the second type in which the common power of the influence of secondary factors is greater than the power of the influence of the main factor.

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H

145 H

H A

A

A B

B C

F

F

F

H

H

A

A

B

B

C

C D E F

E F

Fig. 4. A cascade process. Explanations: if in an essential structure of the magnitude F there appear factors A, B, and C, then W F (H ) > W F (A, B, C); if there appears factor D, then W F (H ) = W F (A, B, C, D); and the moment factor E appears, W F (H ) < W F (A, B, C, D, E); a solid-line arrow stands for transformations of an essential structure of the phenomenon under investigation from a structure dominated by the main factor to a structure dominated by secondary factors or the reverse; a dotted-line arrow designates transformations within an essential structure dominated by the main factor.

This can be presented visually in the following way. In the above figure, there are magnitude F under study and a number of factors that influence the phenomenon under investigation in various ways. Factor H is the main one among them, as it exerts its influence in the whole period of time considered and its power of influence is the largest. Factor A already exerts secondary influence, although it also acts in the whole period of time considered. Further factors, B and C, appear later and exert relatively the smallest influence on the phenomenon under investigation. But they initiate a cascade process in which the role of the influence of the main factor changes in a structure of influences. Although the power of influence of this factor is still the greatest, its dominance over remaining elements of an essential structure gradually diminishes with the occurrence of new secondary factors, i.e. the number of elements of the set WF (H ) – WF (A, B, C, . . .) decreases. The occurrence of the factor D in turn “almost balances” the power of influence of the main factor with the sum of power of influences of secondary factors. When the next

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factor E appears, secondary factors gain dominance in an essential structure. Then also the sum of power of influences of secondary factors A, B, C, D, and E is greater than the power of influence exerted by the main factor. A cascade lasts as long as secondary factors are able to maintain dominance in an essential structure. The disappearance of the influence of any factor occurring in a cascade brings the domination of the main factor back again. In the above figure, the factor which closes the dominance of secondary factors is D, which while disappearing brings the dominance of the main factor back. In a limit case, a factor which both closes a cascade, i.e., initiates the dominance of secondary factors in an essential structure and closes the domination of these factors can be one and the same magnitude. The cascade effect may also interpret the paradox of “small causes and great effects,” which was observed by Gadamer in history. Factor E is such a “small cause.” When it appears, it initiates “great effects,” i.e., a change of the dependencies that have governed the examined phenomena so far. Since then, therefore, the phenomenon has been affected by cascade factors that exert primary influence upon it. That influence is modified only by the influence of the main factor. However, the paradox of “small causes and great effects” does not appear always and everywhere, because it can come into existence solely in a defined type of essential structures, namely such that are dominated by the class of secondary factors. It does not appear always but only when the accumulation of the cascade factors is sufficiently advanced, i.e., when the joint influence of secondary factors balances the influence of the main factor. Only then can the appearance of the “small factor” initiate “great effects”; the advantage of the cascade of secondary factors in the essential structure of the phenomenon under study. Due to the cascade effect, one may explicate one of the variants of the concept of “the turning points in history” that appears in historical works. Such moment in the history of the phenomenon under study a state in which two influences are counterbalanced: on one hand, the influence of the main factor, and on the other hand the influence of the cascade of secondary factors. Then, the appearance of the factor closing the process of accumulating the cascade, or the lack of it, is decisive in gaining the dominance in the essential structure either by the main factor or by the cascade of secondary factors. In the next section of the present paper, I will investigate the new element in thus explicated cascade effect. Such a new element contributes to the structure of the scientific theory and historical narration as well as

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to the ongoing discussion about the methodological foundations of the nomothetic and idiographic approaches to history. 5. Interaction of Factors in the Cascade The cascade of variables may be of differing structure. The factors which may be found in it may affect the magnitude being investigated separately and they also may interact. At this point, it is worth using the definition of the interaction of variables (factors according to the accepted terminology) offered by Ackoff. According to his definition: “two variables are interacting if the influence which one of them exerts upon the dependent phenomena relies upon the values adopted by the other variable.” 8 While approaching the problem in terms of ITS, the interaction arises between two factors A and B, which belong to the essential structure of the value F, if the joint influence of those factors upon F depends upon the values which each of these factors adopts separately.9 Any two secondary factors A and B influence F in isolation if the joint area of influence A and B upon F is equal to the sum of influences of each factor, while considered separately.10 WF(AB)=WF (A) ∪ WF(B) Whereas if the factors A and B enter into interaction, then their joint area of influence upon F is not equal to the sum of the areas of influence of each factor upon F while considered separately. WF(AB)≠WF (A) ∪ WF(B) Let us now use the example of two factors A and B to inquire into possible types of interaction. In order to do that, we will arrange the set of cases of factor A with respect to the power of influence, from the minimal to the maximal power, which they exert upon value F being determined. In the set of cases of factor A some cases may be identified whose influence while exerted upon F is minimal. One can also distinguish a class of factor A cases such that their influence, while exerted upon F, is the most powerful. Finally, it is possible to distinguish cases whereby the power of influence is smaller than the maximal, yet larger than the minimal influence. 8

Ackoff (1969), pp. 390-391. Brzeziński (1976), p. 18. 10 Nowak (1994), p. 305. 9

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The weakening interaction between A and B in respect of F arises if factor A under the influence of B assumes a value at which the power of influence exerted by A upon F is decreasing. By contrast, the strengthening interaction between A and B occurs if A under the influence of B adopts a value at which the influence of A upon F is increased. Thus, in the interaction, the impact of A upon B (or vice versa) indirectly ascertains the influence which A (resp. B) exerts upon F. Depending upon the type of the interaction, the influence of A upon F may decrease or increase. The weakening interaction between A and B in respect of F arises if the joint area of influence of the factors A and B upon F is smaller than the sum of influences of the factors A and B exerted separately upon F. WF(AB) < WF(A) ∪ WF(B) By contrast, the strengthening interaction between A and B in respect of F occurs if the joint area of influence of the factors A and B upon F is bigger than the sum of influences A and B separately exerted upon F. WF(AB) > WF(A) ∪ WF(B) 6. The Cascade Process and the Structure of the Idealizational Theory Regardless of its internal structure, a cascade of factors not only influences a transformation of basic relations that the phenomenon under investigation was previously (i.e., before its occurrence) subject to, but also imposes a transformation of the way in which theories are formulated. Let us put ourselves in the shoes of a researcher who attempts to build a theory of cascade phenomena. According to the idealization theory of science each theory is a sequence of models, from the most abstract to more and more realistic ones. The first model of a theory of a given phenomenon contains only the characterization of the influence of the factor that is recognized as the main one for it and disregards influences of factors that are recognized as secondary ones. The method of idealization is thus supposed to abstract a given phenomenon from the context of accidental influences and to show its relations with factors that are the most important to it. But subsequent models of a given theory gradually introduce new secondary factors. Consequently, the very theory becomes more and more realistic, describing not only basic relations that the phenomena under

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investigation are subject to, but also their disturbances and modifications introduced by secondary factors. Things are not the same in the case of a structure of theories of phenomena in which the cascade effect occurs. In a theory that describes such phenomena, a hierarchy of theoretical models is inverted: a basic model describes the influence of a cascade of secondary factors and it is only a derivative model that describes the influence of the main factor. Already in the first model of a theory, the researcher introduces all secondary factors that a cascade consists of for the sum of the power of influence of such factors is greater than the power of influence of the main factor for the phenomenon under investigation. Thus, it is already the first model of cascade phenomena that is more realistic than that of phenomena of a standard essential structure because it is composed of more factors. And the influence of the main factor that modifies only basic relations, which for the phenomena determined are influences of secondary factors occurring in a cascade, are described in a derivative model. Thus, the peculiarity of theories of phenomena of a cascade nature is a far-reaching transformation of its structure despite the fact that an essential structure of the phenomenon under investigation was not transformed because the power of the influence of the main factor is still higher than the power of the influence of particular secondary factors. Therefore, what is decisive in the process of constructing a theory of phenomena in which the cascade effect occurs is determining the period of time in which an essential structure dominated by the main factor is transformed in an essential structure in which dominance is assumed by secondary factors and the identification of a factor the occurrence of which at that particular period of time brings about a cascade and “tipping the scales of influences” in a structure in favor of a set of secondary factors. 7. A Cascade Process and the Structure of a Historical Narrative The structure of a historical narrative is a reflection of an essential structure of the phenomena described.11 The very historical narrative consists of two layers. Its surface layer records states of phenomena under investigation, and its deep layer refers to determinants that decide about this rather than that state of it. As factors determining behavior of the magnitude studied are ordered with respect to their essentiality, a 11

Nowakowa (1990), pp. 31-40.

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deep layer of a narrative consists of strips. The first strip of a narrative describes the magnitude studied in terms of the first model of the idealization theory assumed. It describes forms of the phenomenon under investigation depending on the main factor. The second strip of a narrative contains subtler interpretations, for it also takes into account the influence of a secondary factor on the phenomenon under investigation. Subsequent strips of a narrative contain yet richer interpretations of subsequent states of the phenomenon under investigation, since they account for new secondary factors that were disregarded in the initial strips of a narrative. Compared with a narrative of phenomena of an essential structure dominated by the main factor, a historical narrative of phenomena in which the cascade effect occurred has a specific peculiarity. Its structure changes despite the fact that an essential structure of the phenomenon in question has not changed. This is because, owing to the cascade effect, the first strip of a narrative allows the influence of many secondary factors at the same time, and their common influence is greater than the influence of the main factor. It is only the second strip of a narrative that accounts for the influence of the main factor. Thus, a cascade narrative is richer and closer to the historical reality already in its initial strip. Another important problem in a narrative of historical events subject to the cascade effect is to grasp the moment of the transformation of an essential structure. This is connected with a proper recognition of a type of an essential structure: does the main factor still exert the dominating influence on it or have secondary factors already dominated it? The problem is also linked to a proper identification of a particular factor that has been able “to tip the scales of influences” in a structure in favor of a cascade of secondary factors, as well as with the determination of the moment in which this happened. Therefore, errors that may occur in a narrative of such a type of historical events are of three kinds: a wrong determination of a type of an essential structure, a wrong identification of a factor that closes a cascade and, finally, a wrong determination of the moment in time in which, under the influence of a factor initiating the domination of secondary factors, there gets transformed a type of an essential structure: from a structure dominated by the main factor it gets transformed to a structure dominated by a cascade of secondary factors.

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8. The Cascade Effect in light of Categorial Ontology The cascade effect, which was discussed in light of the idealizational theory of science, also leads to certain philosophical consequences. These consequences can be expressed in the language of categorial ontology. Let me present in brief the basic concepts of this theory, which are suitable for the philosophical interpretation of the cascade effect. The theory of categorial ontology emphasizes the existence of two basic aspects of each phenomenon, i.e., its essential structure and nomological structure. Each phenomenon remains under the influence of a number of determinants which affect it in a specific way.12 All the factors which influence the phenomenon under study form a space of factors that are essential to that phenomenon. A sequence of factors that are essential to a given phenomenon and arranged with respect to the power of influences forms the essential structure of a given phenomenon. In that structure, one may discriminate between the main factor for a given phenomenon, characterized by the greatest power of influence, and a number of secondary factors, of smaller power of influence compared with the main factor. Categorial ontology aims not only to reconstruct essential structures of the phenomena under investigation and to exhibit their possible relations, but it also deals with reconstructing their nomological structures.13 Such structures consist of dependencies between factors and phenomena determined by them. In the above-mentioned theory, the dependency is understood as a function to bind changes of the factor, which is essential for a given phenomenon, with the changes of the phenomenon itself. On analogy to the hierarchy of the power of influences of factors, one may reconstruct the hierarchy of dependencies of the phenomenon under study, i.e., its nomological structure. Using the term ‘inner dependency’ and ‘regularity’ one may refer to the dependency of the phenomenon under study on the main factor. On the other hand, surface dependency or the form of manifesting regularity is defined by the influence of all factors, which affect a given phenomenon. The main problems of categorial ontology are changes in the essential structures of the phenomena.14 It is possible to discriminate between two basic types of conversions: alterations and transformations. Alterations are conversions within the realm of secondary factors, whereas

12

Nowak (1977b), pp. 51-56. Ibid., pp. 71-76. 14 Ibid., pp. 109-134. 13

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transformations are conversions within the realm of main factors of the phenomena under study. Within the first type of conversions, three types of alterations occurring among secondary factors may be identified. One is extension. It emerges if the established essential structure is accompanied by some new secondary factors which also influence the form of the manifestation of regularity to which so far an examined phenomenon was subordinated. Another type of alteration is curtailment. Under the influence of curtailment, the repertory of secondary factors becomes limited and the nomological structure of the phenomenon undergoes changes in the phenomenal layer of dependencies. The next type of alteration is replacement. It is achieved when certain factors change their places in the essential structure. The above-mentioned types of alterations of the essential structures of the phenomena, i.e., extension, curtailment and replacement, entail solely a modification in the form of the manifestation of a given regularity. Alterations are thus quantitative conversions whereby the main factor, and thus the given regularity, remains the same, and the change affects solely the repertory of secondary factors and the form of the manifestation of a given regularity. Conversions of the essential structures of the phenomena which lead to changing the regularity termed transformations. They are such conversions in which only the main factor for a given phenomenon changes. One may distinguish two types of transformations. The transformation of the first order is a conversion in which the main factor in the preceding period is an essential factor for a given phenomenon, though it is no longer the main factor. By contrast, in the transformation of the second order, the main factor for a given phenomenon drops out of its essential structure. Regardless of the type of transformations, each of them brings about the change in the regularity which has governed a given phenomenon until now. Thus, transformations belong to qualitative conversions in which, as a result of changing the factor, the very regularities ascertaining a given phenomenon are changed. In light of the above-mentioned theory, it may be possible to characterize the nature of cascade conversions in greater detail. The cascade effect occurs in the realm of secondary factors, so it is a sort of alteration. According to what has been stated far, the process of the accumulation of the cascade factors relies on such enrichment of the essential structure in new secondary factors that the main factor ceases to be a dominating one. The cascade change is then the extension of the essential structure of an examined phenomenon. Under the impact of interactive relations between factors, which appear in the cascade, it is

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also possible that the internal replacement of the essential structure will occur: under the impact of interaction with some other factors, certain factors increase their influence upon the phenomenon examined, whereas others decrease their influence under the impact of such interaction. The cascade change is thus the extension of the essential structure combined with its internal replacement. Let us recall that in light of the above-mentioned theory isomorphism arises between the changes in the essential structure and the changes in the nomological structure: quantitative conversions (alterations) lead to the changes of the manifestation of regularity, whereas qualitative conversions (transformations) lead to changes in the regularities themselves. The peculiarity of the cascade derives from the fact that the defined type of quantitative change (extension, which may be connected with the replacement) entails the change of the regularity itself rather than the change of the manifestation of regularity. In this case, then, the principle of isomorphism of conversions between the nomological and essential structures is falsified. It seems that it is certain tacitly recognized idealizing assumptions of categorial ontology that are responsible for that state of affairs. These assumptions presume that there exists only one type of essential structures, namely such in which the main factor is a dominating factor. In the realm of that type of essential structures, there really arises isomorphism between the conversions of essential and nomological structures of the examined phenomena. However, such isomorphism does not arise in the realm of essential structures, in which the sum of power of influences of secondary factors is bigger than the power of influence of the main factor. 9. The Rationale of Idiographism in the Science of History The cascade effect also allows a consideration of the above-discussed methodological controversies regarding idiographic and nomothetic understanding of history in a different light. A classic type of justification of the presence of idiographism in the historical science that was put forward by Wilhelm Windelband, who distinguished between two basic types of sciences. Natural sciences are supposed to aim at revealing the general and universal, whereas the task of historical sciences is to present the individual and the particular. This standpoint was developed by Windelband’s student and follower,

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Heinrich Rickert and other thinkers representing the group of German anti-naturalist philosophers.15 Let me now paraphrase the differences between nomothetism and idiographism in terms of categorial ontology, which forms the body of ITS assumptions. Set U of all objects, which encompasses magnitude F with certain intensity, makes up the universe of a given magnitude. Let us acknowledge the fact that in this universe one may identify definite subsets ZA , . . . , ZN. These sets are F-species. Thus, the sum of F-species of the same main factor forms a type of a given magnitude in its scope. Thus, F-kinds differ among themselves with respect to the main factor that is distinguished, whereas F-species which belong to the given F-kind differ with respect to secondary factors. A given F-kind is then a sum of those F-species, which share the same main factor. That differentiation can be illustrated by a scheme. Let us assume that there are essential structures of the following shape: S

1

Z F

: H H, p

S

2

Z F

: H H, q

S

3

Z F

: G G, q

Each of the sets Z 1 , Z2 , Z3 is an example of F-species. Moreover, factor F has two F-kinds. Kind R1 is identical with the sum of classes Z1 and Z2 and kind R2 is identical with class Z3 . Within the conceptual apparatus of that theory, it is feasible to paraphrase the theses of idiographism and nomothetism by distinguishing between two versions for each of the two positions. Radical idiographism pronounces that each F-kind to be a one-element set. It is of substantial methodological significance because it means that the magnitude F upon every object carries a separate essential structure, and for the magnitude F upon every object an independent theory should be constructed. Radical nomothetism, in turn, claims that the universe of each magnitude F contains only one F-kind. It follows that there is one and only one main factor for the magnitude F, ascertained upon all objects. A moderate standpoint (moderate idiographism or nomothetism) presupposes the existence of more than one F-kind in that universe, but less than the number of elements of the universe. At this point, a certain simplification is worth mentioning. Scientists do not usually examine essential structures of individual factors but they 15

For differences between nomothetic and idiographic approach to history see: Malewski, Topolski in this volume.

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strive to examine certain distinguished entities.16 These entities, called categorial, are characterized by the situation whereby their constituent factors are the main factors for themselves. However, in order to avoid further complication, I assume that the object of scientific examination is the essential structure of a single magnitude and not of complexes of magnitudes. The cascade effect also casts a new light on the opposition between radically conceived idiographism and nomothetism. That phenomenon allows to pluck a rational gist out of idiographic approach to history (in its radical version). As was stated before, each cascade is an unrepeatable and unique combination of factors, which hardly ever appear in the same configuration. Even if a given configuration of the cascade factors recurs, they can still vary with respect to the accumulation rate of secondary factors and as to which of its components initiate and finish the cascade. Thus, in practice, each cascade is an unrepeatable combination of factors. Thus the effect of the cascade justifies the thesis of radical objective idiographism, since for each cascade a separate essential structure should be established. Moreover, the cascade of factors changes the structure of a scientific theory and influences the way in which historical narration is constructed. In the theory, which explains the phenomena of a standard essential structure, its first model renders the influence of the main factor, and derivative models render the influence of secondary factors. The reverse holds true in the case of a theory which describes the phenomena characterized by the essential structure of the cascade type. In such a case, the first model contains the description of the influence of secondary factors and only the derivative model demonstrates the influence of the main factor. Similar changes occur in the structure of historical narration. The first strip of narration concerning the phenomena, which fall under the cascade effect, demonstrates the influence of secondary factors, whereas its second strip presents the impact of the influence of the main factor. The changes, which were brought about by the cascade effect in the structure of scientific theory and historical narration, justify to a certain extent intuitions of idiographism, which draws upon the science of science and program. However, the scope of the applicability of the basic intuitions of radical idiographism is not unlimited. In spite of the fact that individual configurations of cascade factors are unrepeatable, they fall under some general type, i.e., the type of the cascade. Furthermore, this effect may only appear in a defined kind of essential structures, namely such in which the sum of the power of influences of secondary factors is larger 16

Nowak (1989b), pp. 232-233.

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than the power of influence of the main factor. Adequately paraphrased theses of radical idiographism are thus limited to the phenomena of the essential structure of this type. It is evident from a theoretical perspective which assumes nomothetic approach to history. The fact that at least some intuitions of idiographism can be incorporated into the body of theorems of the contrary methodological standpoint indirectly proves to be against idiographism, constituting an argument in favor of the nomothetic approach in history. Adam Mickiewicz University Department of Philosophy ul. Szamarzewskiego 89 C 60-569 Poznań, Poland e-mail: [email protected] REFERENCES Ackoff, R.L. (1969). Decyzje optymalne w badaniach stosowanych [Optimum Decisions in Applied Research]. Warszawa: PWN. Brzeziński, J. (1976). Struktura procesu badawczego w naukach behawioralnych [The Structure of Research Process in Behavioral Sciences]. Warszawa: PWN. Brzeziński, J. and L. Nowak, eds. (1992). Idealization III: Approximation and Truth (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 25). Amsterdam/Atlanta, GA: Rodopi. Gadamer, H.-G. (1979). Konieczność w dziejach [Necessity in History]. In: Rozum, słowo, dzieje [Mind, Word, History]. Warszawa: PWN. Nowak, L. (1971). U podstaw marksowskiej metodologii nauk [Foundations of the Marxian Methodology of Science]. Poznań: PWN. Nowak, L. (1977a). Wstęp do idealizacyjnej teorii nauki [An Introduction to the Idealizational Theory of Science].Warszawa: PWN. Nowak, L. (1977b). U podstaw dialektyki Marksowskiej. Próba interpretacji kategorialnej [Foundations of Marxian Dialectics. An Attempt at Categorial Interpretation]. Warszawa: PWN. Nowak, L. (1980). The Structure of Idealization. Towards a Systematic Interpretation of the Marxian Idea of Science. Dordrecht: Reidel. Nowak, L. (1989a). Byt i myśl. Przyczynek do metafizyki unitarnej [Being and Mind. Contribution to Unitarian Metaphysics]. Studia Filozoficzne 1, 3-21. Nowak, L. (1989b). On the (Idealizational) Structure of Economic Theories. Erkenntnis 30, 225-246. Nowak, L. (1994). The Idealizational Methodology and Economics. Replies to Diederich, Hoover, Janssen, Jorland and Mäki. In: B. Hamminga and N.D. Marchi (eds.), Idealization VI: Idealization in Economics (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 38), pp. 303-336. Amsterdam/Atlanta GA: Rodopi.

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Nowakowa, I. (1990). Historical Narration and Idealization. In: J. Topolski (ed.), Narration and Explanation. Contributions to the Methodology of the Historical Research (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 19), pp. 31-40. Amsterdam/Atlanta, GA: Rodopi. Paprzycka, K. and M. Paprzycki (1992a). Accuracy, Essentiality and Idealization. In: Brzeziński and Nowak (1992), pp. 255-265. Paprzycka, K. and M. Paprzycki (1992b). A Note on the Unitarian Explication of Idealization. In: Brzeziński and Nowak (1992), pp. 279-283. Samsonowicz, H. (1985). Historia Polski do 1795 [History of Poland until 1795]. Warszawa: Wydawnictwa Szkolne i Pedagogiczne.

Jerzy Topolski THE MODEL AND ITS CONCRETIZATION IN ECONOMIC HISTORY

1. The Assumptions of the Model Method in Economic History In the present paper, I will deal with the above issue only briefly, so as to provide an introduction to the problem of concretization in the model method. This problem has attracted great interest which, I presume, justifies the present analysis. To begin with, among the various meanings of the term ‘model’ which are used in research I would like to draw the attention of the reader to the following two: (i) the model in the (semantic) sense of the variety of theories; to simplify slightly, it means the field in which the propositions of a given set of propositions (e.g., theories) are true1 or, in other words, the subject of research of a given field of academic study or its constituent parts, (ii) the model in the methodological sense of the word, as a simplified representation of a given fragment of the real world (a set of propositions referring to it), which makes it easier to “grasp” some significant characteristics of the fragment by means of omitting a number of incidental factors which interfere with the perception of the more “significant” characteristics (and trends). It is easily noticeable that we deal here with a realistic interpretation of the model (such as was used in Capital by Marx), this being an 1

Cf. Grzegorczyk (1973), p. 272. For the sake of simplicity, I do not introduce the term of the model of a given language. In actuality we always deal – in terms of methodology – with models of a given language, i.e., we say that the field of research which is a model is made relative with respect to the language in question, that is one talks about this field in a given language (according to the principle of denotation).

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 159-172. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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(isomorphic) “representation” of the real world, as opposed to the model understood in an instrumentalist way, that is only as a tool in research to be discarded after the completion of the task (which was the case with Weber’s ideal types). The model viewed in realistic terms thus refers to the subject of research, while the model interpreted in instrumentalist terms lacks such reference or the reference is deformed. In my further analysis I will focus first and foremost on the second meaning of the term model, which is becoming increasingly popular among historians. Keen interest is particularly noticeable among economic historians of various schools and persuasions. It should suffice to mention the socalled New Economic History which is promoted in the United States or the Annales School in France. F Braudel describes the model as a “simplified schema,” “a cluster of explanations” or more precisely, a “hypothesis”; a system of explanations, firmly bound together in the form of an equation or function, whereby a value is equal to another value or predetermines a stated quality. W. Kula remarks: “The task of constructing a model is a very delicate one and always arguable to the highest degree. It involves giving prominence to some elements and omitting others.”2 The final result of the model procedure is a set of propositions (which may be expressed as symbolic and sometimes mathematical formulas) referring to the reality that is appropriately “streamlined,” modeled and laid bare so as to disclose what is hidden beneath the surface. This simplified fragment of reality can be described as an ontological model, and the set of propositions which refer to it as the above-mentioned ontological model. A model in the ontological sense may be described as follows: (x) [Mo i (x) → a 1 , . . . , a n (x)] which we read: for each x, if x is Mo , then x has the characteristics a 1 , . . . , a n (i.e., it operates accordingly), whereby Mo i denotes a specific ontological model chosen by the researcher out of the set of all possible ontological models of a given fragment of reality, and a 1 , . . . , a n denote various ways in which such a model operates. If this description is adopted, the concept of a methodological model may be said to consist in a set of propositions about this model. We mean here all sorts of possible ontological models, because a researcher is bound to show interest in various aspects of the reality being researched. An example of an ontological model of a given area can be found in the physiographic 2

Kula (1967), p. 42.

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representation of this area (to be shown on a map of physical geography, which in such a case constitutes a methodological model of the area thus interpreted) or in the economic and administrative representation of this area (to be accordingly presented on an appropriate kind of map). Historians of the economy have been often applying the term ‘model’ only to some of the statements referring to a given ontological model, i.e., to its characterization, and fail to do so with respect to statements describing the way in which the model operates. For instance, not only “the entrepreneur” (as an ideal type) to be found in J.S Schumpeter’s work but also the characterization of the behavior of that “entrepreneur” should be regarded as examples of a model. In the former case, we deal with a model in the narrower sense, whereas in the latter case with the model in the proper (i.e., broader) sense. Similarly, the distinctions between various types of the economy, enterprises, peasant holdings, etc., are all instances of constructing models in the narrower sense of the word. We may include in this category the procedure applied by A. Wyczański in his study of the nobleman’s manor in 16th century Poland, in which he constructs a model of an average manor and supplies its quantitative characterization (the area, the workforce, the output, etc.).3 A model in the broader sense may be found in the W. Kula’s study entitled Ekonomiczna teoria ustroju feudalnego [An Economic Theory of the Feudal System], in which Kula not only constructs a certain model but also monitors how it “operates.”4 I applied a similar procedure while working with A. Wyczański on the paper produced for the 6 th International Congress of Economic History (Copenhagen 1974) entitled Gospodarstwo chłopskie przed i w czasie pierwszych etapów rewolucji przemysłowej [The Peasant Holding Before and During the Early Stages of the Industrial Revolution].5 The first part of this study is devoted to identifying basic types of peasant holdings (self-sufficient and non-selfsufficient), whereas the second part analyses their responses to the changing conditions. 2. The Model of Intercontinental Trade It would be worthwhile to present an example of model analysis suggested by F. Mauro.6 Mauro started by creating a model that 3

Wyczański (1960). Kula (1976). 5 Wyczański and Topolski (1974), pp. 11-31. 6 Mauro (1961), pp. 1-17. 4

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represented the economic system of Western Europe in the 16th -18 th centuries (i.e., between the Renaissance and the Industrial Revolution), which he calls “commercial capitalism.” The elements of both the medieval and industrial-capitalist economic systems which were in operation during this period are excluded from the description of the system. Neither large landed estates in rural areas nor artisans in towns exist in this “pure” system of commercial capitalism. There are only two classes: the merchants and the workers. Control over production and profits rests firmly with the merchants. Under such circumstances, international trade, and intercontinental trade in particular, is the only factor which sustains this system and is the driving force behind it. Mauro applies his ideal type to the whole of Europe, which either exports or imports goods from the four continents: Africa, North America, South America, and Asia. In terms of the division of labor, Mauro divides the territories in question into the temperate zone (Europe and parts of America) and the tropical zone on the one hand, as well as the densely populated zone (Europe, Asia, Africa) and the sparsely populated zone (North and South America) on the other. These differences as well as the complementary nature of those territories provide a basis for the development of trade between them. The markets are influenced more heavily by the buyers than by the sellers. The main form of competition is the competition in terms of production, principally between alternative products and between the same products (e.g., pigments or indigo) which are imported from different regions (e.g., spices from Asia, Africa or America). Mauro also points out that the territories in question could be divided into dominant regions and subordinate regions, the whole system being directed by Europe which buys and sells according to its wishes. Using the above assumptions as a starting point, F. Mauro draws up a table representing the flow of commodities from one region to another, which he also presents in the form of a graph. The respective supplies from the five continents in question can be read from the table (and the graph). This provides a frame of reference for monitoring various trade opportunities and can offer a springboard for a gradual refinement of the table through the introduction of new factors. The next step in the development of F. Mauro’s model (involving simultaneously a refinement of the table and the graph) is the introduction of the elements of long-term dynamism. In the long term, factors such as the appearance of new products or the disappearance of old ones as well as the emergence of new trading techniques and modes of shipping goods should be considered, which was not necessary in the short-term analysis.

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There might be some room for concern that although the ideal model constructed by F. Mauro takes reality as its starting point, it might be departing too far from it or. In other words, one may be concerned whether it is productive enough to apply the notion of pure commercial capitalism under the circumstances whereby agriculture is still the mainstay of the economy. Notwithstanding these misgivings, F. Mauro’s model allows a better perception of some patterns in trade in the 16th -18 th century. The relationship between trade and economic growth is explored on an even greater scale by H. Van der Wee in his “dynamic model of the development of the world trade in the 12 th -18 th century” (cf. footnote 14). In this model, European economic growth is approached as an ideal type, and considered exclusively as an effect of the operation of a single factor, i.e., international trade. Trade has been accepted here a stimulus of economic growth. While facilitating a more effective allocation of the factors of production (natural resources, labor and capital), it thereby contributes to the growth of the global income. Unquestionably, the elimination of the influence of other factors and focusing only on trade is a consequence of the specific knowledge W about the reality of the 16 th -18th century or, in other words, of the opinion that the periods of growth and prosperity coincide with the periods of a robust development of international trade. Yet it is debatable whether monitoring economic growth under the conditions where this factor operates (or even where it is the only factor to operate) gives an isomorphic enough representation of the structure and dynamics of the European economy in the 16th -18th century. The next stages of Van der Wee’s procedure include outlining a “qualitative representation” of the development of trade (and monetary relations), the construction of a “theoretical model” (based on the categories derived from the theory of economics) featuring the twofold division of the economy into the traditional and the dynamic sector, as well as the effects that the supply on the one hand and the demand on the other have on the world economy. The system of equations referring to relations between different economic data represents the final stage of the model.

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3. An Example of an Instrumentalist Model: J. Marczewski’s Equations A model may be said to retain its realistic characteristics only as long as one can claim that it is a (relatively) isomorphic representation of reality (i.e., that it reflects its principal traits). I have already expressed some reservations about describing F. Mauro’s model as realistic. The models devised by J. Marczewski, who authored the concept of the so-called quantitative history,7 leave less room for doubt in this respect. In my view, however, they are quite clearly instrumentalist in nature, of which Marczewski’s followers do not seem to be fully aware. J. Marczewski claims that the way out of the framework of the traditional economic history could be found in constructing a model which should be conceived as a system of equations accounting for the essential relationships of economic life described in political economics. The point of departure for his research is not the observation of reality (as has been the case so far) but inclusion of facts into an a priori accepted model. In Marczewski’s opinion, this opens the possibility of a complete comparison of economies of different periods and territories. Predictably, the facts are not selected from “real life.” Instead, they are but elements filling out the unknowns of the model. The model is a tool conceived to “grasp” the relationships in the economy: Marczewski named it “the model of national accountancy.” The calculations of the production output, gross and net national income, domestic and foreign financial operations are all included in the model. At a certain stage of his research, J. Marczewski uses 46 variables set in 21 equations. The calculations are carried out on a national scale: breaking them down into specific sectors of the economy and regions would require reference to equations borrowed from Leontieff’s model. Below is an example of one of Marczewski’s equations: C + Cg + J + J g + x = P + M + Td whereby C denotes household consumption, C g stands for national consumption, J is private investment, J g is public investment, P is national production, M is import, x denotes exports; the value of the latter is complemented by revenues from customs duties (Td).

7

Cf. Marczewski (1965).

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4. The Problems of Concretization A model in economic history, being such a representation of a fragment of the past reality that is an abstraction and therefore omits some of the characteristics of that reality, should be subjected to the procedure of concretization. As was pointed out by L. Nowak and J. Kmita, the procedure may be viewed either as a procedure of eliminating idealizing assumptions or as including a pre-prepared (simplified) structure into the context of a more complete structure.8 In this way, the model becomes “closer” to reality. In the course of this procedure, the model is usually broken down into a number of lower-order types, which are important for shorter chronological sections or smaller territorial units. The author of the model often carries out such a concretization him/herself, but sometimes this task is left to other researchers. It is the needs of research which determine the extent of concretization to be conducted. Four different kinds of concretization may be distinguished in historical and economic research. The first kind may be termed territorial concretization. The ideal type is transformed in such a way so as to open the possibility of applying it (as a subtype of the general type) to a given territory. For example, the general model of the economy in the late feudal period devised by W. Kula refers to all of Poland. I tried, by means of concretization, to apply it to only one Polish territory, namely the region of Wielkopolska, where the dominance of agriculture was not so complete.9 The second type of concretization is chronological. In this case, eliminating some idealizing assumptions leads to limiting the chronological scope of the model. For example, the discussion about W. Kula’s model resulted in the conclusion that the second half of the 18 th century should not be included in it. Similarly, we conduct chronological concretization when we apply the ideal type of “feudalism,” e.g., to the modern period. In the Polish context, we speak of the feudalism of the manorial-serf type. The third kind of concretization (to a certain extent also comprising the two previous kinds as well as the one which follows) is concretization which involves historical sources. It consists in filling the general framework of the model with concrete information. The fourth kind, i.e., quantitative concretization may be considered as a particular case of concretization of the third kind. It consists in “filling” the model with numerical data. Such concretization is usually recognized 8 9

Cf. Kmita (1975), pp. 80-81. Cf. Topolski (1971), pp. 57-71; reprinted in this volume, pp. 271-287.

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as one of the stages in the procedure of model analysis. Quantitative concretization is approached as a research task, automatically becoming necessary after the qualitative formulation of the model. In this case, W. Kula uses the term statistical ‘verification’. We shall deal with this kind of concretization in greater detail. 5. The Assumptions of Quantitative Concretization It will be useful for the sake of our further analysis to introduce a distinction between traditional and new quantification in economic history. The main difference concerns the conceptual framework of study and not the methods and techniques of processing quantitative data, although in traditional quantification they are usually simpler. New quantification forms an element of a consciously used model method (usually connected with a theory), while in the traditional procedure quantitative data is regarded as a statistical extension of historical description and sometimes as explanation. That is the reason for proposing a distinction between mere quantification and quantitative concretization, the latter being treated synonymously with the new quantification. What is quantitative concretization? As part of the model method, it is not necessarily new to economic history. One of the most elaborate and early examples of quantitative concretization, used in combination with a deliberately applied method can be found in J. Rutkowski’s work (1938), in which he constructed a model of the division of income in the manorial-serf economy system. Subsequently, having computed the data concerning several thousand villages and manors, he filled his model with those data.10 A similar procedure was applied in the study of economic growth in England 1688-1958, written by P. Deane and W.A. Cole.11 On a very large scale, the quantitative concretization was proposed, as a part of the model method, by the American school of “New Economic History,” 12 which uses it for explaining and finding data that are otherwise unobtainable. If we make a distinction between the models which are formulated in qualitative terms but which at the same time can be quantifiable (M3 ) on the one hand, and the models which use the language of mathematics, 10

Rutkowski (1938). Deane and Cole (1969). 12 Cf. Fogel and Engerman (1971). 11

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i.e., the so-called econometric models (M4 ) on the other hand, the quantitative concretization may be understood in the following way. In the former case (M3), quantitative concretization consists in finding out quantitative data and then applying it (in several steps) to the model. The latter (M4 ), as we remember, has the general form: Y = f (X1 , . . . , X n ) + e whereby Y is the variable to be explained, f stands for the function of explanatory variables X1 , . . . , X n , and e represents all the factors contributing to changes in Y which were explicitly included into the model.13 The quantitative concretization involves in this case both the quantification of X1 , . . . , X n (the first step) and the quantification of e (subsequent steps). The successive steps may differ significantly because the concretization of e should also involve various kinds of qualitative concretization. It means that the essence of the procedure in cases M3 and M4 is the same. Sometimes we begin our study by concretizing X1 , . . . , Xn only qualitatively, while hoping to quantify it in the future. H. Van der Wee writes that the construction of theoretical representation in symbols and equations is insufficient when we intend to investigate a problem more profoundly. Hypotheses should be verified in confrontation with reality on the basis of quantitative sources and econometric techniques. 14

All kinds of concretization may be regarded as a process of eliminating idealizing assumptions or, in other words, as a process of “bringing the model closer” to the unsimplified past economic reality (PER). This aspect of the problem underscores the dual character of the concretization procedure: concretization of the model on the one hand and its simultaneous verification on the other. In the science of economics, the best confirmation of a model is found in a concretization which will enable the economist to make predictions about real economic actions and processes. In economic history, the historian does not make such predictions. Instead, the scientific value of concretization is assessed by comparing the logical consequences of the concretized model with the body of the knowledge about PER that is already accepted. Such comparisons should be dynamic and, whenever necessary, should lead to changes in that knowledge. Not all models, however, can be submitted to the concretization procedure in the sense that we adopted here. They can 13 14

Pawłowski (1966), p. 38; Nowak (1972), pp. 118-119. Van der Wee and Peeters (1970), p. 121.

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be successfully applied only to realistic models, which are constructed on the basis of adequate knowledge about reality and an adequate theory. The models which do not satisfy these requirements are instrumentalist in nature. They can be deliberately instrumentalist (as was the case of Weber’s ideal types) or they can be de facto instrumentalist as a result of applying an inadequate theory or inadequate historical knowledge (J. Marczewski’s quantitative history). The point of departure in the latter case was not found in the observation of PER and “suspending the operation” of some of its features, but in set of equations that is devised a priori, showing relations between economic categories borrowed from the theory of economics. These equations were only tools which helped to classify some economic data in a way that was accepted a priori, without taking into account the real structure of the subject of investigation. Obviously, one could always argue, whether the model is based on a sound theory and sufficient or reliable knowledge about the reality. Models used by economic historians can be found between two opposite ends of the spectrum which could be termed the instrumentalist and the realistic approaches. Only the procedure of concretization allows us to locate the position which the model that we use in our research occupies in this spectrum and to find out whether we are actually coming closer to PER, plus how possible it is in the case of our model. Concretization is an endless process. 6. Quantifiable and Non-Quantifiable Structures It may be asked what we mean by the term quantifiable, non-quantifiable and partially-quantifiable structures, i.e., where the limits are of quantitative concretization. Using some concepts borrowed from the mathematical set theory one could argue that: PER = where U denotes the set of objects in which the economic historian is interested, R1, . . . , R n stand for various more or less complex relations and systems of relations occurring among elements which belong to U (including the relations of equality, causality, price, economic growth, etc.) Other symbols represent some sub-sets of the set U which we shall explain later. Let us ask whether both U and R1, . . . , R n are quantifiable or, in other words, whether PER could be submitted to measurement. We understand the term ‘measurement’ as ascribing numbers (taken from a given set of

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numbers) to the elements which belong to U and which are in one way or another mutually related. From this point of view, it is not difficult to distinguish between two kinds of relations and structures which belong to PER. 15 These are qualitative (NQ 1 , . . . , NQ n ) and quantitative (Q1 , . . . , Qn ) structures. In the case of qualitative structures, the set of numbers which we use in measurements is limited to two numbers: 1 and 0 (the element in question exists or not), while in the case of quantitative structures the set of numbers which we could ascribe to our elements is normally much richer. A simple example will illustrate our idea. Let us analyze the following factographic statements: (i) X was Y ’s son, (ii) X was an outstanding inventor, (iii) X was a sick man, (iv) X was a rich man, (v) X left $ 500,000 to his children. In the case of (i) the relation of being Y ’s son divides the set U into two sub-sets: X and the rest of U (U – X); consequently, it is a purely qualitative structure (you cannot be someone’s son “to a certain degree”), to which we can ascribe only the numbers 1 (Y ’s son) an 0 (other elements). It could seem at first glance that the cases (ii), (iii) and (iv) also belong to the category of quantitative structures, but in fact they are (more or less) quantifiable, and it is obvious that by quantifying them we are enlarging our knowledge about the PER. By quantifying (iv) we would have to assign a level of income and wealth to the term ‘rich man’; if we have appropriate data (including comparative information) it would be a very simple process indeed. In the cases (ii) and (iii) the quantification procedure would be more complicated, since we would have to measure the “intensity” of a given feature in the case of the outstanding inventor and the sick man. This would entail the necessity of “preparing” our structures for quantification by modeling them with such tools as scales, indexes, etc. In both cases, however, we obtain only partial quantification (PQ1 , . . . , PQ n ). There still remains some nonquantifiable residue in the terms ‘outstanding’ and ‘sick’. Nonetheless, in each case we can count “outstanding” inventors, “sick” men, etc., because they are usually more or less numerous in PER. Let us now turn to explanatory statements. Are they quantifiable? The situation is similar to situations (ii) (iii) and (iv). The causal relation as 15

The notion of an economic structure can be found in the study written by Nowak (1972), pp. 31-59 and 196-202.

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such is qualitative, but we can often compute the “intensity” of various factors (demand, supply, technological innovations, etc.) which account for a given result (economic growth, productivity, etc.) It is obvious that precise measurement, which can often require the application of various mathematical methods, facilitates the reconstruction of PER. Let us examine the following statements: (vi) the increase in the prices of grain (in a given place and time) was caused by poor harvests and population growth, (vii) the emergence of the manorial-serf economy in Eastern Europe in the 16th century was the result of the growing demand for grain in Western Europe and different political circumstances in Eastern Europe, (viii) X decided to invest $100,000 in agriculture. Out of these three cases, case (vi) is the most quantifiable (involving merely a computation of supply and demand), while case (vii) can be partly adapted to numerical processing since we can measure demand. In both cases, however, quantification does not reach all the aspects of the wide spectrum of human motivation. Nonetheless, even at this stage, if we accept that X acts in a rational way, we will be able to quantify some factors, such as the income resulting from various alternative investments, thereby making the actions of X more understandable. Case (viii) refers to another characteristic of PER, which is different than the distinction between quantifiable and non-quantifiable structures. PER can also be presented as follows: PER = whereby U is already familiar to us as the set of elements in which the economic historian is interested, a 1 , . . . , a n denote individual and group actions, P1 , . . . , P n stand for historical processes (such as economic growth, capital mobility, the demise of feudalism, etc.), and R1 , . . . , R n relations connecting some of the elements a1, . . . , a n with some of the elements P1 , . . . , P n . It is obvious that historical processes can be regarded (to a great extent) as unintended results of purposeful human actions and that historical processes create conditions for human actions. If we accept that the explanation of PER is the main objective of economic history, the best procedure to accomplish that task should aim at combining the explanation of both parts of PER, that is the human actins and the historical processes. Intuitively, one tends to say that P1 , . . . , P n are more susceptible to quantification. And since it is a rule in economic history to explain historical processes by other historical

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processes (particularly among some more ambitious historians and schools aiming at a global reconstruction of economic activity), one is tempted to formulate a postulate of moving beyond the narrow field of economic history into the analysis of phenomena such as mentality, cultural changes, modes of life and class status. New forms of quantification are developing in particular due to the contribution made by the American “new economic history,” while the non-traditional qualitative studies of economic history, i.e., qualitative concretization, are still awaiting a major “breakthrough.” translated by Katarzyna Radke REFERENCES Deane, P. and W.A. Cole (1969). British Economic Growth 1688–1958. Trends and Structure. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Fogel, R.W. and S.L. Engerman, eds. (1971). The Reinterpretation of American Economic History. New York: Harper and Row. Grzegorczyk, A. (1973). Zarys logiki matematycznej [An Outline of Mathematical Logic]. Warszawa: PWN. Kmita, J. (1975). Jak uprawiać metodologię nauk [How to Practise the Methodology of Science]. Studia Filozoficzne 1, 79-86. Kula, W. (1967). Analiza modelowa w historii ekonomicznej [A Model Analysis in Economic History]. Historyka 1, 41-50. Kula, W. (1976). A Theory of the Feudal System. London: NLB. Marczewski, J. (1965). Introduction à l’histoire quantitative. Paris: Librairie Droz. Mauro, F. (1961). Towards an “Intercontinental Model.” European Overseas Expansion between 1500 and 1800. The Economic History Review 14, 1-17. Nowak, L. (1972). Model ekonomiczny [The Economic Model]. Warszawa: PWE. Pawłowski, Z. (1966). Ekonometria [Econometrics]. Warszawa: PWN. Rutkowski, J. (1938). Badania nad poziomem dochodów w Polsce w czasach nowożytnych, t. I [Studies on the Level of Income in Poland in Modern Times, vol. 1]. Kraków: PAU. Topolski, J. (1971). Model gospodarczy Wielkopolski w XVIII wieku (The Economic Model of the Wielkopolska Region in the 18 th Century). Studia i Materiały do Dziejów Wielkopolski i Pomorza 20, 57-77. Topolski, J. (1973). Metoda modelowa w historii gospodarczej [The Model Method in Economic History]. In: J. Kmita (ed.), Elementy marksistowskiej metodologii humanistyki [Elements of the Marxist Methodology in the Humanities], pp. 414-430. Poznań: Wydawnictwo Poznańskie. Wee, Van der H. and T. Peeters (1970). Un modèle économique de croissance interséculaire de commerce mondial (XII – XVIII siècles). Annales: Économies, Sociétés, Civilisation 25, 100-126.

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Wyczański, A. (1960). Studia nad folwarkiem szlacheckim w Polsce w latach 1500-1580 [Studies on the Nobleman’s Manor in Poland, 1500-1580]. Warszawa: PWN. Wyczański, A. and J. Topolski (1974). Peasant Economy Before and During the First Stage of Industrialisation. In: 5 Themes, Sixth International Congress of Economic History, Copenhagen 19-23 August 1974, pp. 11-31. Copenhagen.

III MODELING IN THE RESEARCH PRACTICE

Henryk Łowmiański

WHY DID THE POLANIAN TRIBE UNITE THE POLISH STATE?

A group of seven or eight major tribes constituted the ethnic base of the East-Lechitic state. In theory, the institutional system of a state could develop either due to the spontaneous emergence of the state apparatus in various political centers of small tribes or even in centers of particular opole units (constituent units of tribes) through the evolution of princes into patrimonial rulers and the subsequent coalescence of small tribes into bigger entities. Alternatively, this could occur through the imposition of the model of the state by one leading political center on individual tribes, large and small, that had still retained the traditional political system. The first concept separates the institutional process of the emergence of the state apparatus from the political process of unifying local state entities into larger political units. This concept has been dominant in our historiography and was represented once by S. Smolka and K. Potkański. Today, it is supposedly confirmed by archaeological evidence, in the forts of the 7 th to 9 th century. They are no longer taken to be exclusively places of refuge; instead, they are believed to have been fortified residences of chieftains, built to hold sway over the local population, previously forced to participate in their construction. In conformity with this view, the tribes mentioned by the Bavarian Geographer are thought to have been state-like organisms (which is incidentally correct if we accept the classical Marxist definition of the state).1 The next stage of coalescence of these state entities meant only perfecting their existing system of institutions. The above concept, while 1

Cf. the approach adopted by Gieysztor (1954), pp. 121-123. Podwińska (1971, pp. 91ff ) argues against the “feudal character” of small forts, that is against their governing function, and instead attributes to them the function of serving the needs of the local populace.

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 175-180. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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favored by many scholars, is nonetheless inconsistent with the written records. The organization of state ostensibly launched from the political center of a small tribe2 can be encountered only exceptionally, and the subjugation of the population of one, or sometimes several independent political centers belonging to one ethnic group (such as the East-Lechitic group) should be considered as the rule. Some general considerations also support the idea of the state-forming process being initiated from only few centers. Concentrating considerable forces, which successively extended the rule of the prince to further areas, was necessary to subjugate the local population. A petty chieftain of a small tribe, even less so a chieftain of a tiny opole, that is the constituent unit of a tribe, did not have the necessary means to undertake this task. Only a prince capable of calling up the active forces of a major tribe stood a reasonable chance of defeating the resisting political centers of small tribes within the major tribe and then extending his control to further areas. What is more, it is also the populace which preferred the dependence on a strong center, which could ensure peace without and security within. We have thus reached the second concept: the idea of the state apparatus being created (virtually) “top-down” and of the simultaneous political unification. The emergence of state nuclei was determined not only by the internal process of creating political power, but also by the routes along which civilizational and ideological currents were promulgated. It is along those routes that the model of state institutions was transferred from one Slav territory to another. The tribes which were in closer contact with centers of civilization stood a better chance of playing an active role in the process of institutional change than the more remote and backward tribes. The overall direction of ideological currents, not only among the Slavs, was correctly identified by K. Tymieniecki, who also noticed some general historical patterns: “I perceive the outlines of these patterns first and foremost in the distribution of the earliest nuclei of states, growing out of the older tribal organisms. They are conspicuously concentrated in the south.”3 According to Tymieniecki, the precedence of the south over the north can be traced back to the Celtic and Germanic tribes, and one encounters a similar phenomenon among the Slavs. Tymieniecki applies his observation to the East-Lechitic ethnic group and emphasizes the role of the Vistulanians (Wiślanie), who were far ahead of other related tribes. 2 The work contains information on a Czech prince Sclawitag, dating back to 857 AD (vol. 4, p. 403). But it is also in Bohemia that the process of creating the state was initiated in the normal course of events from one of two centres (Prague, Libice). 3 Tymieniecki (1964), p. 195.

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“In conformity with the previous tradition of Europe in its early history, the progress of political organisms started from the south.”4 In my earlier discussion in the present study I tried to point out what this “precedence of the south” consisted in. As far back as in late antiquity, Slavs developed a high level of the culture which barbarian peoples (that is those remaining outside civilization) were able to attain. Having found themselves in contact with the Roman Empire, they received stimuli for socio-economic changes. From the beginning of the 8 th century AD, the second phase of such stimuli saw the Slavs becoming familiar with the model of the state system and adopting it in practice, the material conditions for that having been prepared in the earlier phase of economic and social changes. The turn of East-Lechitic tribes came in the second half of the 9 th century in the period of the bloom of the Great-Moravian state, which no doubt provided a model to follow. Both Silesia and the land of the Vistulanians were in close proximity to Moravia, and the model of the state could have been adopted in any of the two areas. If the Vistulanian center emerged earlier, it was due to a more favorable course of internal evolution. Unfortunately, despite their successful beginnings, the Vistulanians did not display creative initiative towards other Lechitic tribes outside the Małopolska region. This fact was due not only to the policies of the Great Moravian state, which curbed the activities of the Vistulanians, but also to the policies of the Vistulanians themselves, who sought support first in Bohemia, and then in Moravia, thus undermining the appeal of the Cracow center in their own core ethnic area. The Vistulanians were eliminated, as were the Ledzians (Lędzianie) in the late 9 th and the early 10 th century. Similarly, Silesia orbited into the sphere of the Czech and Moravian expansion. As a result, the initiative was bound to pass to the northern tribes, not all of whom had equal chances of success. Pomerania (Pomorze) was more distant and lacked contact with the sphere of Moravian and subsequently Bohemian expansion; hence, it was unlikely to play any creative role in institutional changes. The vast swathe of forests along the River Noteć separated the Pomeranians (Pomorzanie) from the landlocked group of East-Lechitic tribes, bearing witness to the long-standing isolation of this tribe from its ethnic heartland on the other bank of the River Noteć. The location of this tribe on the coast created opportunities for other interesting relationships, especially in the age of the Viking expansion. It should be said, however, that these possibilities were not used. In the initial period of the emergence of the Polish statehood (the last quarter of the 9 th century and the first half of the 10th century), contacts with the closest, and at the 4

Ibid., p. 201.

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same time the most active neighbors on the opposite shore of the Baltic were very weak. Trade relations in the 8th century were all but nonexistent 5 and were not any more lively in the 9 th century. Instead, the main trading emporium developed in the Prussian Truso. It was only in the second half of the 9 th century that the great emporium in Wolin developed, to be followed by the second one in Szczecin.6 Similarly the West-Slavic piracy can be traced back to a later time, because it gained momentum only sometime around mid-10th century, in the period when the Gniezno nucleus had already fully developed as a state. Before that time the Pomeranians had played only a passive role, fending off raids of the Vikings into their territory, which were undertaken perhaps mainly to take captives, who were subsequently sent for sale as slaves in the Arab countries and Byzantium. The scope and frequency of these raids are difficult to determine.7 At any rate, Polish trade routes, and the Oder and the Vistula in particular, did not attract special attention of the Norsemen, who were looking for long-distance routes giving them access to the Arabic East and the Byzantine South. Consequently, in the period before Mieszko I overseas relations played neither decisive, nor even significant a role in the historical development of the Pomeranians. I do not deem it possible (because of the lack of interest in Pomerania on the part of the German sources) that relations with the West-Lechitic group of tribes, which were developing in the sphere of German expansion, could have been significant. In this respect, the situation of Pomeranians reveals similarities to other East-Lechitic tribes. Naturally, the Prussians, who were of a different ethnic stock, could not significantly affect the course of Pomeranian history, relations between both neighbors being fairly peaceful. Despite some degree of separation, to which the forests along the River Noteć bear witness, the Polanians were virtually the 5

Perhaps the complete lack of archaeological evidence of such trade in the 8 th century is accidental; nonetheless, it seems symptomatic, because it bears witness at least to the negligible scope of any exchange; cf. Żak (1967), p. 281; Labuda (1960), pp. 112ff; Śląski (1969), p. 32. 6 Leciejewicz (1962), p 159. 7 Rimberti (1884, Ch. 19, p. 43) mentions a Danish raid (AD 852): ad urbem qandam longius inde positam in finibus Slavorum – and about the capture of this fortress, after which the assailants: captis in ea spoliis ac thesauris multis, as sua reversi sunt. It seems that it was a commercial port (the capture of treasures indicates that) but it could not have been Novgorod (which did not exist at this time) nor Wolin (which was not yet involved in large-scale trade). Is it possible that it was Rugia? The proximity of the fortress from Birka is not an argument against this hypothesis, but where did the treasures captured there come from? Could the Rugians of the time practise piracy, although Slavic pirates are mentioned in the sources only after mid-10 th century? Cf. Labuda (1960), p. 123; Żak (1967), pp. 43 and 49.

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principal neighbors of the Pomeranians. Perhaps the names of the Pomeranians (Pomorzanie) and the Polanians (Polanie) indicated the differentiation between the coastal and the inland population. The Pomeranians had no chances of taking the initiative in the process of organizing the state of the East-Lechitic group of tribes, but they were unlikely to be left out of this process either. They played the role of recipients of the new institutional model, which emerged among the Polanians. Masovians (Mazowszanie) found themselves in a similar position, albeit for different reasons. The reasons were the proximity of the Prussians and relatively vast territories appropriate for colonization. The Masovians needed the support of their Lechitic brothers; they were too immersed in their own separate affairs to play a more universal role in organizing a state. Last but not least, the remoteness from the models of the new institutional system was also a major hindrance. Therefore, after the Vistulanians were eliminated as a potential germ of a new state, only two tribes, the Goplanians (Goplanie) and the Polanians remained on the scene. Out of these two, the Goplanians enjoyed a particularly favorable geographic location, because they bordered directly on all the remaining East-Lechitic tribes. Later, in the period of feudal fragmentation, they played a particular role due to their central position. Confining his observations to the southern part of their territory, G. Labuda remarks: the area of Sieradz and Łęczyca did not cease to play the role of the “keystone” of the Polish state consisting of several principalities. It is from this area that Władysław the Short (Władysław Łokietek) originated. He was the first prince who reunited the country and the first king of the Renewed Kingdom of Poland. One of his first acts was the mediatization of the local Piasts, and through this a closer unification of the territories of the Wielkopolska (Greater Poland) and Małopolska (Little Poland). 8

The tribe of the Goplanians could have successfully played the role of the “keystone” among the tribes of the East-Lechitic group, but the actual events took a different course, and the role of organizing and uniting the state was left to the Polanians. Why did it happen? Perhaps the less homogeneous tribal structure of the Goplanians made it difficult for them to compete for supremacy with the Polanians? Or perhaps was it the lack of drive on the part of the political establishment of the Goplanians, or some other accidental circumstances which are difficult to trace in the historical sources? Was it the case that the pressure from the outside weakened the Goplanians? The direct answer to these questions would 8

Labuda (1959), pp. 187ff.

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require theoretical speculation, impossible to be tested on facts recorded in the sources. Therefore, I we will approach the issue from a different vantage point, that is considering the circumstances in which Gniezno gained the status of the main political center not only of the Polanians, but of the whole East-Lechitic group of tribes. translated by Katarzyna Radke REFERENCES Gieysztor, A. (1954). Geneza państwa polskiego w świetle nowych badań [The Origins of the Polish State in the Light of New Research]. Kwartalnik Historyczny 61 (1), 103-136. Labuda, G. (1959). Testament Bolesława Krzywoustego [The Testament of Bolesław Krzywousty]. In: A. Horst (ed.), Opuscula Casimiro Tymieniecki septuagenario dedicata, pp. 171-194. Poznań: PWN. Labuda, G. (1960). Fragmenty z dziejów Słowiańszczyzny zachodniej [Excerpts from the History of the Western Slavs]. Poznań: Wydawnictwo Poznańskie. Leciejewicz, L. (1962). Początki nadmorskich miast na Pomorzu Zachodnim [The Origins of Cities on the Coast in Western Pomerania]. Wrocław: Ossolineum. Podwińska, Z. (1971). Zmiany form osadnictwa wiejskiego na ziemiach polskich we wcześniejszym średniowieczu [The Changes in the Form of Settlement in Polish Lands in the Early Middle Ages]. Wrocław: Ossolineum. Rimberti (1884). Vita Anskari. Edited by G. Waitz. Hannoverae. Śląski, K. (1969). Słowianie Zachodni na Bałtyku w VII –XIII wieku [Western Slavs in the Baltic Area from 7 th to 13 th Century]. Gdańsk: Wydawnictwo Morskie. Tymieniecki, K. (1964). Sprawa Lędzian [The Issue of the Ledzians]. Slavia Antiqua 11, 195-244. Żak, J. (1962). Studia nad kontaktami handlowymi społeczeństw zachodnio-słowiańskich ze skandynawskimi od VI do VIII w. n.e. [Studies of Trade Relations of West-Slavic Societies with Scandinavia from the 6 th to the 8 th Century]. Wrocław: Ossolineum. Żak, J. (1967). “Importy” skandynawskie na ziemiach zachodniosłowiańskich od IX do XI wieku (część syntetyczna) [Artefacts of Scandinavian Origin in West-Slavic Areas from the 9 th to the 11 th Centuries. A Synthetic Part]. Poznań: PWN.

Jerzy Topolski

COMMENTS ON ŁOWMIAŃSKI

The reasons why the Wielkopolska region (and, more specifically, the tribe of Polanians) played a crucial role in the emergence of the Polish state is one of the problems which Henryk Łowmiański examines in his study Początki Polski [The Origins of Poland] Łowmiański favors the concept of the state apparatus being created through a “top-down” imposition as opposed to its spontaneous development in Polish territories, i.e., by “impos[ing] the model of the state by one leading political center on individual tribes, large and small, that had still retained the traditional political system” because “only a prince capable of calling up the active forces of a major tribe stood a reasonable chance of defeating the resisting political centers of small tribes within the major tribe and then extending his control to further areas.”1 Yet the rise of state nuclei (that is the political centers which organized the state) was determined not only be the internal process of creating political power in the way described above, i.e., through subjugating the political centers of small tribes and expanding outside the territory of a given major tribe. As Łowmiański points out, it was also determined by the routes along which civilization and ideological currents were spreading. It is along those routes that the model of state institutions was transferred from one Slav territory to another, in line with the principle whereby “the tribes which were in closer contact with centers of civilization had a better chance of playing an active role in the process of institutional change than the more remote and backward tribes.”2 Great Moravia provided such a model for the East-Lechitic tribes. Nonetheless, the situation developed in such a way that the Vistulanians, who were in close proximity to Moravia, did not display 1 2

Łowmiański (1973), p. 438; part of this book is reprinted in this volume, pp. 175-180. Ibid., p. 438.

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 181-184. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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creative initiative in organizing a state, leaving that role to the Polanians, who were more remote from Moravia than the former. According to Łowmiański, the reasons for that lied both in the policies of Great Moravia, which curbed the activities of the Vistulanians and in the policies of the Vistulanians themselves, who preferred to look for support in the south rather than in Cracow. Łowmiański examines the situation of other tribes (Ledzians, Silesians, Masovians, Pomeranians, Goplanians) in a similar way, pointing to a range of difficulties which made it impossible for these tribes to play the central role in forming the Polish state. As far as the Polanians are concerned, their situation turned out to be particularly advantageous in this respect. Firstly, they were relatively secure from the west due to the existence of West-Slavic tribes separating the Polanians from the Germanic tribes. Secondly, contacts with the Great Moravian model of political institutions came quite early (after Silesia and Małopolska were overrun by Świętopełk). Finally, the economic situation of the prince of Gniezno allowed political expansion. The point of departure for the explanatory analysis undertaken by Łowmiański is the general theory of the formation of states which he postulates. The theory which indicates indispensable conditions (collectively making up the sufficient condition) for the emergence of a state organization. The prerequisites include primarily adequate economic, social and cultural development prior to the emergence of the state. This ensures the surpluses that are indispensable to support the state apparatus and, and allows the appearance of a group of people who can exercise political power. The theory could be formulated as the following rule: whenever a given tribal society which has not been organized into a state yet reaches a sufficiently high stage of economic, social and cultural development, i.e., one that is enough to ensure (1) surpluses that are indispensable for maintaining the state apparatus and (2) the emergence of groups of people who are able to exercise power (also in terms of their cultural advancement), a state organization emerges in this area. There exist other circumstances, however, in which a state organization can appear without the above-mentioned conditions being satisfied. This may occur when some other state organization that is already well developed dominates the tribal organisms which have not yet reached “the sufficiently high stage of economic, social and cultural development.” Moreover, if one considers the creation of states under conditions in which the model of the state could be copied from states that are already in existence, the process of the emergence of a state in a given area could be accelerated in proportion to the proximity to the

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model state, and without direct correspondence to the stage of internal development of the area subjected to its influence. This general theory is used by Łowmiański to explain the role played by the Wielkopolska region. The application of the theory consists in examining specific conditions that are characteristic of Wielkopolska and explaining possible departures from the theoretical path of development. Łowmiański maintains that the influence of a strong state onto the area which has not yet organized itself into a state may not be exclusively constructive. On the contrary, such influence may inhibit the internal processes of state-formation which are under way. This is precisely what happened to the Vistulanians in Małopolska. Notwithstanding their more advanced stage of social and economic development compared with Wielkopolska, the Vistulanians were subject to the above-mentioned inhibiting influence of the expansionist state. This fact improved the prospect of success of Wielkopolska. But one must bear in mind that the latter was more remote from the centers of civilization than other areas. A rule formulated by Łowmiański obtained with respect to distance: The closer to the centers of civilization the territory of a given tribe was, the relatively better its chances (in comparison with other tribes of the same ethnic group) of playing the state-forming role in the process of creating a state structure. This pattern of relationships (which is an unambiguous one) is obviously based on the theory that was previously reconstructed (a nomological formula) and which describes the process of creation of states in general. That is because the pattern of relationships describing the distance from the centers of civilization referred to the tribes that had to reach an adequate stage of development in order to participate in the historical competition to play some or other role in the process of forming a state organization. In the light of these two patterns of relationships, the more general one and the more specific one, the Vistulanians stood the best chance of playing the crucial role in the process of founding the Polish state. However, as has been pointed out, another pattern of relationships, a more specific one, “was in operation” in their case, which involved the inhibiting influence of a nearby state. Similarly, in the cases of other tribes, their chances of playing an active role in the process of state centralization were diminished either due to the first, general pattern of relationships, (lower economic capability, as in the case of the Goplanians), or with some other pattern of relationships that has not been

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reconstructed here (e.g., preoccupation with defense against other tribes, as in the case of the Masovians). The procedure suggested by Łowmiański can be interpreted as a simultaneous search for the factors inhibiting the impact of the general pattern of relationships and drawing on various other coincident patterns of relationships. The fact that the Polanians played the state-forming role was inferred by Łowmiański from various patterns of relationships working in different directions. In view of these coincident patterns of relationships, one can obviously make an attempt at formulating a rule (a nomological formula) explaining the role of Wielkopolska in the process of the emergence of the Polish state. This rule, according to Łowmiański’s analysis, would take approximately the following form: The closer to the centers of civilization the territories of a given tribe were, the better chance it stood of playing a state-forming role in the process of creating the state structure, provided that it: (i) was not within the sphere of expansion of a stronger state, (ii) was not overly preoccupied with its own internal affairs (such as above all with defending its frontiers), (iii) had some advantage (in terms of economic, social and cultural factors) with respect to the tribes which also met the conditions (i) and (ii). This pattern of historical development is obviously based on the general theory of the formation of states accepted by Łowmiański. I have not provided explications of the notions that are inherent in the formulation of this pattern, though Łowmiański’s study opens many possibilities of doing so. translated by Katarzyna Radke REFERENCES Łowmiański, H. (1973). Początki Polski, t. V. [The Origins of Poland, vol. 5]. Warszawa: PWN.

Jan Rutkowski THEORETICAL CONSIDERATIONS ON THE DISTRIBUTION OF INCOMES IN A FEUDAL SYSTEM

1. Preliminary Comments 1.1. Economic Feudalism and the Economic Significance of the Manorial Obligations The question of the theoretical bases of studies on the distribution of incomes in Poland in modern times, particularly as regards studies concerning the distribution of such incomes between the lords and the peasants, must be based on the broad basis of the economic system generated in western Europe in the feudal era, which, as regards the agrarian system survived in its essential elements until the great agrarian reforms of the 18 th and 19 th centuries. The essence of this system is not uniformly formulated in the wealth of literature concerning feudalism. This refers also to the economic and particularly the agrarian side of the feudal organization. In our case, this matter is only of marginal importance, hence we have restricted ourselves to the simple statement that we are following in the footsteps of those who see agrarian feudalism in the light of the distribution of rights to land into the so-called superior ownership and various forms of utility ownership, or other forms of utilizing the land restricting the rights of the user in favor of the lord, meaning the owner of the land. A second essential factor in agrarian feudalism is the connecting of the ownership of the land with certain rights and responsibilities related to the judiciary, administration and other public authorities. In strict relationship with these characteristics of the system are greater or lesser restrictions in the legal position of the peasant population, usually called villeinage. The overall effect of this system is the existence of direct and indirect responsibilities, customarily called manorial obligations. The manorial

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 185-223. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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obligations embrace the whole economic life and are, from the point of view of the distribution of incomes, the most important aspect of economic feudalism. We most stress that for further argumentation, the question of one or another definition of the feudal economic system is of no greater importance. What we wish to do is to consider certain factors concerning the agrarian system typical of European countries, including Poland, in the Middle Ages and modern times, prior to the agrarian reforms of the 18th and 19 th centuries. The name given to the system is of less important. The historical sources elucidating the character of manorial obligations are numerous and no less numerous are dissertations devoted to the same. Information on the subject, although far from having exhausted the surviving source material, is now extensive. Even the most detailed general characteristics of such obligations, explaining grounds on which, what, how much, when, etc., which social groups, had to fulfill such obligations to the lords in the different territories and periods, still do not afford exhaustive information on the subject. Research on the economic role of these obligations constitutes an essential supplement to these studies.1 A direct economic role of these obligations consists in the fact that they play an essential role in the distribution of incomes between the peasants and the lords, increasing the incomes of the latter at the cost of the former. In the feudal era, the economic role of manorial obligations was not restricted to this alone, however. Changes in this field were indirectly attended by whole series changes in various fields of life. The raising of the standard of living of the lords and its lowering in the case of the peasants, affected the industrial system: the flourishing of some branches and decline of others. The concentrating in the hands of the lords, of substantial quantities of agricultural products either in the form of tributes or from tilling of the lords’ lands by the villeins, stimulated export trade and usually also the import of industrial goods. This might have affected the decline of indigenous industries and towns. The financial system was greatly influenced by changes in the distribution of incomes. It would be difficult to point to fields of economy in which manorial obligations did not have a greater or lesser, if not direct then indirect effect. In the breakdown of the total population, embodied in one economic organization (having in mind here landed estates organized on feudal 1

In French literature, Sée (1906, p. 178) draws attention to the question: “quelle est la véritable portée du régime seigneurial?” but does not supply any positive numerical answer.

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foundations), into two groups (in this case lords and peasants), there exists a close mutual dependence of the share of each group in the total income generated within the given economic organization. Ceteris paribus, the increasing of the share of one group must be reflected in the lessening of that of the other. Any increase in the income of the lord must result in the lowering of that of peasant, and vice versa. Increases in landowners’ incomes at the cost of the peasants is sometimes called increased exploitation of peasants by the landowners, an increase in the income of the peasants by a drop in that of the lords being defined as the diminishing of such exploitation. We shall not employ this term, however, to avoid misunderstanding, as its colloquial meaning is usually understood as a negative moral characteristic. It suggests unjust profit, injustice, exploitation etc. Considerations on the moral side of the distribution of incomes in a feudal system are outside our sphere of interest. We have omitted questions as to how incomes should be distributed, restricting ourselves to searching for a method by means of which we can ascertain the accurate and numerical factual situation in the past. The distribution of incomes from landed estates between the landowners and peasants employed on the land, is sometimes so formulated that it is considered that the peasants’ incomes include that part corresponding to their labor, and the landlord that part corresponding to the share of the land in the production process – land which is the property of the lord. Ownership of the land and the right to incomes arising from this, is so explained that the state bequeaths the ownership in order that the lords might execute in the judiciary and administration, and also defend the state against its enemies, etc. As we understand it, the pertinence of such a concept cannot also constitute the subject of our studies, neither can the matter as to whether or not the factual income from the great latifundia does, in fact, correspond to the share of nature in the production process, or whether the income is not too high in relation to the public obligations borne by the estate. The matter consists only in the ascertaining of the factual state of affairs and explaining of the factors which affected the changes which took place. Rejecting the term: ‘the intensity of exploitation of peasants by the lords’, we cannot leave the void arising, as a concise definition of the quantitative relationship which is to occupy a prominent place in the present theoretical considerations, is required. After considering the various terminological concepts arising, it was decided to use ‘the percentage share of the lord’, understanding by this, the quantitative ratio

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of the lord’s or lords’ global income to the sum of the global incomes of the peasants, lord(s) as well as other factors participating in the income, such as the state, Church, municipal authorities, etc., within an estate or a series of such. 1.2. Subsidiary Assumptions Should the consideration of the question be solely theoretical, one could restrict oneself to the manorial obligations only. This cannot be so where considerations are to constitute the basis of historical studies. In the definite past, feudal elements of the economic system were, in fact, almost always combined with other elements which, in their essence, had nothing in common with feudalism and which introduced certain complications into the functioning of the mechanism of distribution of incomes based on purely feudal bases. This concerns such phenomena as, e.g., the existence of wage-earning, exchange between the individual units of the system, the drawing of this system into the framework of a credit economy, etc. This seriously complicates and hinders our studies. We shall so conduct our studies as to commence with the simplest and gradually continue to the more complex situations. We shall primarily consider the functioning of the distribution of incomes in a closed feudal system, i.e., one in which no economic relations exist between estates belonging to different lords. Further simplifications consisting in the assumption that only such economic relations as are essential to the systems mentioned, i.e., manorial obligations (rents, tributes, corvée), rendered to the manor by the peasants and wages paid to the peasants by the manor, will be introduced in the following three passages (2-4) devoted to the rent, corvée and hired-labor systems. Exchange relations between farms situated within one estate and the effect of these on the distribution of incomes will be considered separately (part 5). For these considerations, it does not matter whether the closed feudal system is taken as a moneyless system in which both tributes and payment for work are only in kind, or as one in which money is paid. Although feudalism originated during the period when barter and exchange played a lesser role than previously and later in Europe, to a certain extent, typical feudal economy was always connected with these systems. One can, however, imagine the existence of feudal units situated far from the important trade routes, which were, at least for some time economically closed in the above-formulated sense. Among the manorial obligations, one usually distinguishes rents in money and tributes in kind, on the one band, and labor on the other. This differentiation is of fundamental importance in studies on the distribution

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of income. For this reason we shall consider the process of such distribution in a purely rent system, and separately in a corvée system (pure and combined with a rent system). As manorial obligations frequently coexist with paid labor, particularly that as an organizational form on the great estates, it must be considered separately from the point if view of studies on the distribution of income. Thus the pure form of hired labor, which as such is, of course, outside the framework of the feudal organization, and hired labor combined with the rent and corvée system, i.e., as this usually occurred in a feudal system. Our considerations thus commence from a closed feudal system, as in the case of such an assumption the only participants in the distribution of incomes are the lords on the one hand and peasants on the other. In an open feudal system, other participants appear, which greatly complicates studies on the shares of the above-mentioned main participants. That part of the income consumed by the peasants from their own farming, together with wages received from their lord constitutes the peasants’ income; rent and contributions together with net income from their own farms is the share of the lords in this income. In small estates consisting, e.g., of one village with one manor occupied by the owner, and a score or so peasants’ smallholdings, the situation is simple in that there is never any doubt as to the including of a position in one of the two income categories mentioned. These relationships frequently become highly complicated in the vast estates on which the bard is unable to curry out all the administrative functions himself and must lease whole manorial farms together with their peasants’ tributes and corvées, to tenants, or must engage his own more or less complicated administrative ladder. When basing on an organization of vast estates with a system of large leases, alongside the income of the peasants which, when introducing such a system, e.g., when a village owned by someone from the gentry as his single asset is transferred to the ownership of a magnate – may not undergo any change and the net income of the great landowner, consisting of a tenure paid by a lessee, there exists still a third item, namely the income of this lessee. If no other changes have taken place in the economic organization of the given village, the total income of the great owner and lessee will equal that of the former onevillage owner who carried out all the functions in the administration and others, himself. The income of the owner of a vast estate primarily consists of ground rent, and that of the lessee of a large estate primarily consists of the profit of the entrepreneur. Apart from this, income from capital is divided

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between the two participants, depending upon the contract of lease, which may commit the lessee to guarantee certain investments, livestock and deadstock, as well as working capital. Where the lessee did not bring into the business any capital of his own the total profit from capital goes to the owner of the estate. Wishing to obtain comparability of figures in the distribution of incomes between the peasants and lords, calculations of the lord’s percentage share cannot, of course, be based on the one hand on the peasants’ income and on the other that of the owner of a vast estate, as in the case of the existence of a lessee of a large estate, the equivalent of the lord’s income in the absence of the lessee is not just the income of the great landowner. but also includes that of the lessee. In other words, when calculating the percentage share of the landowner, the income of the large 1and tenant must be added. This corresponds to the term ‘lord’ colloquially used by the peasants, which embraces not only the landowner, but also the lessee of a large estate. The relationships become even more complicated when the latifundial estates are organized on the basis of their own administration. The economic personnel of the latifundia frequently consists of a large number of persons organized in a multigrade hierarchy, at the head of which are those with very high incomes which enable them to conduct a “lordly” life style, this usually being higher than that of the one-village gentry. The lowest rungs of this administration are occupied by various herdsmen with a very low standard of living. The role of the heads of such administration, in the distribution of incomes is of course, identical with that of the great lessees, i.e., they participate in part of the “lord’s income.” This is characteristically evinced, e.g., in the history of the administration of the crown estates in Poland during the reign of the last Jagiellonians. When administering one and the same starost there were occasionally changes from the system of own administration to that of leases or the reverse. In the first case, the sums of the leases were established on the basis of the average net profit to the king as the owner of the estate. If the relations underwent change, the income of the lessee would be the equivalent of the wage of the steward. Should this be greater, it must have arisen from greater care of and more economic management of the estate by the lessee than by the administrator. It is obvious that the incomes of the heads of the administration fulfilling the managerial functions and leading the lives of lord, cannot be reckoned together with the incomes of the manorial farm servants as the income of the peasants, but must be treated as an integral part of the

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“lord’s income.” In view of the existence of intermediate types between these two groups, the including of such in the first or second group may be difficult, but this already constitutes part of the historical-methodical questions. Smaller landed estates mainly embraced only the rural population. The larger, on the other hand, alongside this, embraced larger and smaller towns with a population differing as regards its economic character and being subjected, to a grater extent, to different manorial obligations. This individuality of the urban population is an important argument favoring its separate treatment. The percentage participation of the lord of the land was most probably different even for the same estate, in the village and in the town. The uniting of these different positions in the same sums would only make the studies more obscure and binder the explaining of the phenomena studied. Another argument which also favors this, is that the reconstruction of incomes from own farms is, in the case of rural population, incomparably simpler and easier than in that of urban population, amongst which there exist great economic differentiations, there also being fewer source bases on the basis of which such a reconstruction can be carried out. As regards rural relations, attempts are already being made to reconstruct these budgets, hence it is hoped that studies on the distribution of incomes, in territorially and chronologically restricted fragments at least, will shortly be completed. With respect to urban relation the pathway to even such a fragmentary conclusion is still out of reach. 2. The Rent System 2.1. The Notion of a Rent System By rent system is usually understood the economic organization of latifundia, where the land is divided into peasant farms encumbered with the obligation to submit tributes and rent in money and in kind, to the landowner. This definition is apt as regards the majority of villages belonging to large estates in both Poland and other European countries. There are, however, villages which cannot be embraced by this definition, but which are better so treated and studied together with other “rented” villages. First and foremost, it may happen that a rent system does not differ as regards the system of peasant farms in their rights to the land and obligations to the landowner, from the average “rented” villages, the basis of which is not the large, but small land ownership. If

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a “rented” village consisting of several peasant farms is left to heirs who also boast other means of livelihood and do not introduce other changes in the distribution of the peasant farmers or their obligations, but will collect rent which they will share, or each will collect rents from his own peasant, we shall then have to deal with a system similar to that which previously existed under the great estates and which now exists as small land ownership. As regards Polish relations and those of other countries with manorial-villein-farm systems, as from the close of the Middle Ages, then the definition discussed correctly restricts a rent system to one of small rented properties, meaning consisting of small peasant holdings, separating this system from that of the leasing of whole estates, or at least individual manorial farms together with the labor and other services attached. In the meantime, in countries boasting a purely “rent or lease” system, where there was a complete lack of the lord’s own farms based on villeinage, or their poor development, the system of tenancy embraced both peasants smallholdings, where no help was afforded by paid labor, as well as larger farmsteads systematically employing hired hands and casual day laborers, also the large tenancies, usually formed from the combining of several peasant smallholdings, where the tenantsproprietors did not themselves engage in any physical employment, restricting their work to directing that of the hired labor. This type is very similar to the great manorial tenancies in Poland, eastern Germany, etc., particularly those which mainly, if not solely, employed hired labor. To avoid misunderstanding, it would probably be better to call the rent system as defined, the small-tenancy system. 2.2. Distribution of Income in a Rent System The basic factor in the rent system is that the whole income is generated in peasants’ farmsteads and then divided into two parts, one of which is taken by the lord of the manor in the form of rents and services or tributes, and the second in the form of income from his own farm, which is taken by the peasant. The income of the lord of the manor has already been discussed, whereas the second position requires certain additional explanations. The calculation of this income differs to a certain extent where it is a question of establishing the figure for the individual spheres of the peasant population, and also where it is only a question of establishing the overall income of the peasants inhabiting certain estates, in order to employ this to calculate the share falling to the lord of the manor. In the first case the matter concerns the establishing of the income of the farmer (and his family) within the framework of different

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categories of peasant farms. Here we must subtract from the gross income of the individual sections of the peasant’s farm, not only the rent and tributes, the goods utilized for further production, but also the cost of maintaining hired farm labor on the given peasant’s farm. In respect of the assumptions accepted, only permanent employees can be taken into consideration. The part played by the latter in the income of a peasant’s farm must be separated, as the question concerns a class of the rural population differing from the peasant-farmer. This is unnecessary when calculating the total sum of the peasant’s income, which, of course, simplifies and facilitates these calculations. The balance remaining after providing for the demands of production and obligations to the manor, constitutes the peasant’s income. The presentation of the question proposed, has already been the subject of polemics. As suggested by me, Kniat was of the opinion given here and for this reason came up against Bujak’s objections. 2 Some economiststheoreticians supported Bujak’s opinion in discussions on the question, As yet, I have not come up against arguments which would refute my standpoint. In my opinion the matter consists of a misunderstanding. When calculating the percentage share of the lord of the manor, one cannot base solely on the incomes of the peasant farmers. The incomes of farm-hands employed by the farmers must be taken into consideration in full. This is clearly understood from the following example. If two grown men are required to maintain a farm of a particular size, production technique and specific contributions, and the farmer’s son is of suitable age, then the costs of his maintenance are included in the income of the farming family. When the son marries and is granted another farm by the landowner, and the father then employs a farm-hand, then part of the income becomes production costs. As regards the percentage share of the lord of the manor, then ceteris paribus, this does not cause any change. In the meantime, when considering only the farmer’s income, in each case the figures for the lord’s share differ, as they would increase fictitiously after the gaining of independence by the member of the family and the taking on, in his place, of a hired farmhand. If, on the other hand, the lord of the manor’s share calculated, must be based on the sum of the incomes of the farmer and farm-hands, then the substraction of the latter’s incomes as production costs, in order only to add these to the income of the farmer, is completely unnecessary. As regards the establishing of the incomes of the great estates in a rent system and the role of tenancies or rents in the distribution of incomes between the great estate-owners and the peasants, particularly in 2

Bujak (1931), and Kniat (1932/33), p. 625.

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a closed feudal system, then the matter of the breaking down of these tenancies or rent into different categories, is of no importance. Here peasant tenancies must be embraced in the widest importance, including all material dues for the manor, by the peasants. This means not only all direct obligations from the land, buildings, the right to use the pasture lands and forests, cattle, industrial activities and the whole farming by the peasant, but also all payments of a judicial-administrational character such as court sentences, payment for the right to leave the estate, submitted on marriage or divorce, etc., and finally all intermediate obligations such as tolls and market dues, should these exceed the costs of maintaining the relative sections of the administration. Even in south-west Germany, where the process of the differentiation of serfdom into ground, personal and judicial, was more advanced than in other European countries, the question of the division of peasant dues into private and public, i.e., related to the public functions of the great landowners, is highly troublesome and can never be carried out accurately, the moreso in countries with a homogeneous serfdom, which includes Poland. There are obligations of an undoubtedly public character only, but nowhere can it be stated that all the public functions of the owners of the large landed estates are recompensed by these public obligations. All private obligations including ground rent, are “to a certain extent” of a public character. Attempts at breaking them down into public and private shares have neither theoretical bases nor those in source material and are discretionary. The avoiding of such experiments is essential if one wishes to achieve results of a scientific value.3 2.3. Collecting Costs Where the peasant is obliged to deliver contributions to the manor and does so in fact, there are no collecting costs and the whole contribution, diminishing the peasants’ income, simultaneously increases that of the lord. Such a simple organization of collecting contributions is impossible where the estate is inhabited by a larger number of peasants, especially when they occupy a more substantial area with widely scattered peasant settlements. This requires a more or less complicated organization of the collecting of contributions, entailing lesser or greater costs and resulting in the lord of the manor’s net profit from contributions being less than the obligation borne by the peasants.

3 Rybarski (1931, p. 85), recently drew attention to the difficulties in dividing income from landed estates into private and public.

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The organization of the collecting of contributions may wary, namely: the collecting may be entrusted to the head of the village, with in return, might have the right to retain a certain part.4 It should here be noted that we should have in mind as the share taken by the village heads in the peasants’ contributions, not only payment for the trouble of collecting, or the return of costs related to this, but also part of the wages for the fulfillment of public functions. In the case of such an organization, the rents paid by the peasants are greater than the manorial income received for them. The difference constitutes one of the items of income of the village heads. We must proceed with this income as we do with other items of incomes of this class. Where the matter concerns peasants, then the incomes should be reckoned as those of the peasants; where those in question are of the “lord” type, then the incomes constitute part of the manorial incomes. The collecting may be committed to the village heads who in exchange for the labors of their office may be exempted from the manorial obligations with which their farms were encumbered, either partially or totally. The organization can be expressed as the exchange of rents and other obligations for a special form of soccage. Despite the dissimilarity in the form or organization, the final result in the distribution of incomes is the same as in the previous form: the amount received by the manor in rent is less by the sum of the incomes of the village heads. This question is simple in that it always concerns members of the peasant society, in view of which the sum of the manorial incomes received in fact from rent, does not – given this form of organization – undergo any modification. The same goes for the peasants assisting in the collecting of contributions in an auxiliary character as a rule, namely in such a manner that such work is imposed on the peasant population as a specific form of soakage. The manor may employ separate functionaries for the sole, or partial purpose of collecting contributions and remunerated similar to other servants of the manor. The sums earned by those officials must be included in “workers’ wages” or “the lord of the manor’s incomes,” depending upon the social status of such persons. Where contributions of grain are collected by a higher official of the manor who supervises the lord’s granaries, an appropriate part of his remuneration constitutes a similar position in the income of the peasant group as the remainder of his pay and there is no reason to curry out unproductive studies to find out the amount his part constitutes. The pay of special collectors of 4

In Poland, this system is found in hereditary village administrators’ offices in German and Rumanian villages.

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peasants’ contributions – should there be such on an estate and should they belong to the peasant group – should also be included in the peasants’ incomes. On the other hand, where the town authorities appoint members of the town council to collect rent from villages belonging to towns and allocate a certain sum from these rent, for their work, then this sum constitutes part of the manor’s income, namely it contributes to the income of the higher administration. 2.4. Manorial Services Related to Rents and Tributes The net income from the rural population’s tributes and services may be less than these obligations not only due to the costs of collecting, but also the fact that some of the peasants’ obligations are linked with those of the manor in favor of the peasants, which lowers the net income of the manor. Certain differences exist between the particular or groups of obligations. In principle, the direct obligations of the peasant population constitute the equivalent for the right to use the land and do not entail any expenditures on the part of the manor. In the case of natural or wartime disasters, the participation of the manor in the resulting losses is mainly in the form of reductions in the obligation to the manor, or complete exemption for a certain period of time. In countries where the lord of the manor’s share is high, he must of necessity afford greater assistance in the rebuilding in either money or kind (building material, livestock, implements, gram for sowing, etc.). Such care of the peasants by the manor, resulting in certain changes in the distribution of income in favor of the peasants, may be a permanent phenomenon. This primarily refers to the manor covering the costs of conservation of the peasants’ buildings. Stock and grain offered in the form of loans, may, in fact, become gifts and have the character of the manor’s obligation in favor of the peasants. All these items must, of course, be taken into account when calculating the incomes of the manor and also appropriately inserted when reconstructing those of the peasants. Customs, toll and other road, bridge and dyke dues arise from the obligation to maintain the said means of communication. As, despite these dues, special days were imposed which were designated for the repair of roads and dykes, the carting of timber for bridges, etc., it frequently occurred that none of the money from the tolls etc. mentioned was spent on the upkeep of these means of communication. Occasionally, however, the manor covered certain expenditures for their upkeep. It is easy to imagine that these expenditures, together with necessary costs of collecting, absorbed the whole gross income from this source, hence the

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manor had no net income, here. It is understandable that the gross income cannot, in such cases, figure in the manor’s incomes. Income from this source can only figure within the limits of net income. As regards collecting costs, these should be treated in a similar manner to those for direct obligations. 3. The Corvée System5 3.1. The Purely Corvée System, and the Economic Role of Villeinage for the Peasants and Manor The economic organization of a great estate is more complicated in a corvée than in a rent system. Alongside the peasants’ farms are the manors, on which the peasants are obliged to work. In the case of a purely corvée system such as we are interested in at present, villeinage is the only obligation to the manor and the villeins the only workers on the manor farms. From the point of view of the distribution of incomes between the manor and the peasants, between a rent and corvée system, the basic difference is that whereas in the case of the former system all the income is generated in the peasants’ farms, in the case of the second – only the peasants’ income is generated on these farms, that of the lord being generated on the manorial farms. The economic role of villeinage in the distribution of incomes is more complicated than the analogous role of rent. The role of the latter always consists in the diminishing of the true incomes of peasants’ farms in favor of the lord of the manor. Villeinage may play a similar ro1e in certain cases only, namely in the larger peasant-farms, at the same time, there being two possibilities. In order to work out the corvée with which his farm is encumbered, the peasant-farmer hires a laborer. From the point of view of the farm, the wages of such a laborer differ only from rent in that the latter is usually constant, whereas the laborer’s wages fluctuate. More frequently, however, the case is such that due to the corvée, the peasant-farmer is forced to engage a farm-hand, or retain grown-up children who, where there is no corvée, could earn their living elsewhere. Rarely are farm-hands specially kept to work-off corvée. Alongside corvée the farm-hands, or children mentioned also carried out 5 The question of distribution of incomes in a corvée system was presented by the author at the VII International Congress of Historical Science in Warsaw; Rutkowski (1933), pp. 73-81.

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various jobs on the peasant’s farm. Tolls and other costs of maintaining additional help, or part of such costs proportional to the corvée carried out by the hands, play the same role as rent, i.e., they reduce the true income obtained by the peasant from his own farm, in favor of the lord of the manor. In such cases, the economic role of corvée in the peasants’ farms can be studied in the same manner as that of rent, i.e., by determining the value and that of incomes of the peasants from their farms. One could of course, include in the income, part of the hired hands’ wages, as well as part of the maintenance costs of the peasants’ children corresponding to the corvée carried out by both. The economic role of corvée differs completely in those farms which, usually because they are small, consist of a couple with young children who do not hire either regular or casual help in the working out of the corvée. This task is carried out by the peasant himself or with the help of his wife. One can speak of a reduction in the peasant’s incomes by the corvée, only in that sense that were there no corvée such incomes might increase either by increasing the area cultivated, by more conscientious cultivation, taking up a cottage industry, or taking up paid employment as well as farming the land. It may happen that the income a reduced as the result of the introduction or increasing of the corvée. Here we do not have to deal – as was the case with rents and the previously-mentioned cases of villeinage-with a reduction of the true incomes generated by a peasant from his farm, in favor of the lord of the manor. The difference between rent and corvée obligations becomes more striking when we consider its role from the point of view of the manor’s economy. In the case of a rent system, the obligation of the peasants is equal to that of the lord of the land’s income, not taking into account, of course, the small-and not always existing-costs of collecting the rent. The situation differs in the case of a corvée system. The reduction of the peasants’ income by corvée even in those cases where the corvée involves actual expenditures on the part of the peasants, also the value of corvée established on the basis of payment for analogous work, or on the basis of payment for days not worked – these factors differ completely from the income gained by the lord of the manor from corvée. It results from this that in a vileinage system, studies on the distribution of income solely within the sphere of peasants’ farms, do not afford any precise or suitable concept of the role of corvée in the true distribution of incomes between the peasants and the lord of the manor.

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3.2. The Classic Method of Studying the Economic Role of Villeinage A second method, based on the incomes of both the peasants’ and lords’ farms, can be applied for all forms of a corvée system and it is only this which can afford an accurate idea on the subject in which we are interested. It should thus be considered to be the classic method of studies in. a corvée system. Essentially, the most characteristic feature of such a system is that the peasants’ incomes are based on their farms, and those of the lord of the manor – on his farm. Such a system most thus be treated differently from a rent system, in which the incomes of both peasants and the lord of the manor are based on those of the peasants’ farms. The latter method is also superior to the farmer in that it embraces all categories of peasants, whereas the first refers only to farmers, without taking into account the workmen and farmhand employed by the peasantfarmer. Finally, the second method does not lead – as is the case with the first – to accounts of the artificial distribution of the costs of maintaining farmlands and the children of peasants who were employed in a villeinage character partly on the lord’s and partly on the peasant’s farm. Such an artificial division gives rise to confusion when calculating the average income per capita. Notice must also be drawn to the fact that the second method has still another advantage over the first, valuable not from the theoretical, but the historical point of view, namely, in connection with the historical sources on which he calculations must, of necessity, be based. This relieves us of the necessity to calculate the number of corvée days actually carried out by the peasant. It is known, on the other hand, that the structure of certain kinds of villeinage jobs was such that no specific number of days per year was foreseen for the peasant to work off corvée. Again, where the norms regulating corvée clearly defined the number of days, the true situation did not always conform with the legal. Both binder the calculating of the true number of days worked. In calculations based on the second method they are reduced to exceptional cases of labor, the fruits of which are not part of the landowner’s income and cannot be calculated in money. There are, however, although fairly rare, cases in which the second method cannot be applied. This is the case when the corvée is utilized not within the lord’s estate, but for public purposes, or in the lord’s household. The examples are the duties of cleaning the rooms of the landowner, lighting fires or stoves, maintaining order and tidiness in the church, cleaning the streets in the town by the peasants from the urban villages, etc. In all such cases, with no greater difficulty a combination of

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the first and second method can be applied, treating the obligation of corvée as releasing the lord of the manor from the responsibility of paying for the work in question. Corvée obligations carried out on behalf of the state must also, of course be treated in the same manner. 3.3. Villein-Rent System Very rarely does the villein system occur in its pure form. It is usually combined with a rent system or one of hired labor as a form of social organization of manorial farms coexisting with villeinage. In this combined system, no difficulties arise in either the calculating of the lord’s percentage share, or the relative importance in the process of the originating of the income of the lord of the manor from rent on the one hand and corvée on the other. Again, it is absolutely impossible to separate the percentage share of the lord of the manor from, on the one hand due to the existence of rent and tributes, and on the other – that of villeinage, as both groups are usually to be found as joint obligations of certain farms in relation to particular pieces of land. The income of the peasants from their own farms is thus a uniform factor, burdened with combined villeinage-rent obligations. The division of this income into part burdened with obligations and those burdened with corvée, is, as a rule, impossible. Such a division would only be possible where certain land would be burdened with rents and others – corvée, or where corvée would be related to the land and rent – stockbreeding. Such situations are exceptional and are of no importance to the general understanding of relations. 4. Hired Labor in a Feudal System 4.1. Manorial Farms Depending on Hired Labor The third type of agricultural system, based on the great landed estates, is when a whole landed estate consists of a greater or smaller number of home farms which produce the whole agricultural income which is then divided into the income of the landowners and that of the peasants employed on the farms. Wages for labor paid in money or also in kind: food, certain items of clothing, accommodation with light and fuel, help in case of sickness and other services possible afforded by the manor, constitutes the income of the peasants. We have omitted the possible income of the manorial-farm-hands with small pieces of land for their use, or cattle and poultry grazing or feeding on the manorial pastures, as

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these constitute elements of the villeinage system which do not come under the hired-labor system in question. Benefits in kind derived from their own farms by the lord of the manor and his family, together with financial income from the sale of the products of the farms remaining after paying the hired labor, constitutes the income of the landlord. The relationship of this income to the total incomes of the peasants and lord, characterizes the percentage share of the lord just as the relationship of the rents to the whole income from leased farms, or incomes from manorial farming to the sum of incomes from peasant and manorial farms characterized it in a rent or villeinage system. A hired labor system usually attains full development into the form of a pure system after the decline of feudalism. Sporadic cases have, however, been known to exist in a feudal economy. The hiring of labor is of interest to us here mainly because it frequently occurs in feudal system alongside a rent and villeinage system. In the feudal era, even a purely hired labor system may boast specific features differentiating it from the hiring of labor in the times following the removal of feudal elements from an agrarian system. The institution of serfdom, so strictly related to the feudal system, frequently also appears in hired labor relations and it is this which affords the relations their specific, one might say “feudal” character. The question concerns primarily, such indications of serfdom as obligatory service in the manor, of peasants’ children, and obligatory hiring out to work. Attachment to the land also has a considerable influence on the shaping of the labor market. 4.2. The Combination of the Hiring of Labor and a Rent System In a purely hired labor system in closed feudal units, we can only have to deal with permanent hired hands on manorial farms. The same is the case when in the given estate there are also rented farms, in which, however, no-one is employed on the manor farms. Thus, on the same estate there exist two independent systems: hired labor and rent. The only economic link is then the fact that the income from the two is collected by one and the same landowner. As a rule, however, the two systems are connected, on one estate. The connection is the casual hired employment of the tenant farmers or members of their families. Another possibility is the existence of farm workers with no farms of their own who earn their living solely from casual work on home farms and those of various peasant farms. These casual hired workers are usually employed on home farms for several

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days or weeks also having other sources of maintenance, either in the form of income from their own farms or hired work on others. Artisans, usually from towns, called into carry out various jobs requiring qualified workers, should also be included in the category of causal workers. The complications in an agrarian system discussed here do not entail any essential methodical complications in studies on the distribution on income. The basis of calculation which come into play here, continue to be previously-mentioned elements: the income of the landowner from rent and the manorial farm as well as peasants’ incomes from their own farms and hired labor. It is quite clear that the four factors mentioned enable us to calculate the percentage share of the landowner both jointly for the whole of the manorial lord’s income obtained from the combined rent-hired labor system and separately for a rent system and one of hired labor. 4.3. Hired Labor on Villein-Manorial Farms More frequent by far than the combination discussed, is that of hired labor and corvée or a villeinage-rent system. Purely villeinage-manorial farms were exceptionally rare; even in the feudal era, purely hired-labor manorial farms were more frequent than those of a purely villeinage character. Typical of the times were mixed farms: villeinage-hired labor. Here, the lord’s income is based partly on the work of hired laborers and partly on that of the serfs. The relation of this income to that of the serf from their farms, together with income from the wages of the manorial farm hired hands, characterize the distribution of income between the lord and the peasants, and the percentage share of the lord of the manor within this mixed system. The extent to which the permanent manorial farm employees and the casual labor of the serfs or other employees are represented, makes no difference. As we wish to limit our research to the establishing of the lord’s share within the combined villeinage-hired labor (or rent paying-villeinagehired labor) system, it is sufficient to calculate the already-mentioned items such as peasants’ incomes from their own farms, rent, wages and the lord’s income from his farm, or lands. In calculations based only on these, however, the role of both villeinage (corvée) and hired labor in the generating of the lord’s income, is lost, and in consequence also the role of the two factors in the process of distribution of national income. As, apart from very few exceptions, corvée occurs together with hired labor in manorial farming, the study of the economic role of corvée in the distribution of income would only be possible if one could break down

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the income of the lord of the manor from his estates into that part obtained from corvée and that from hired labor. This is difficult for several reasons. The question here concerns a point of view completely foreign to the contemporary way of thinking in respect of economic affairs, and, in consequence, also the book-keeping, constituting the primary basis of calculations. Admittedly, certain managers of the great estates did contemplate over the matter as to what was to the greater benefit of the great landowners: an organization based on rent, corvée or hired labor, also what type of labor, corvée or hired, was best in the particular fields of the economy – and by how much, etc., but although these questions are connected with the matters mentioned, to a certain extent, they differ from them. A considerable obstacle is also the fact that the boundary itself between corvée and hired labor is unsettled. The middle course is compulsory hired labor, which is, of course, worse paid than that by choice.6 Compulsory hire does not, in fact, differ from paid villeinage labor, which is quantitatively undefined. Villein labor financially rewarded was rare.7 It was far more common to give the peasants and their draught animals food, at least during work, i.e., once per day at dinner-time.8 Work for food from the manor, but no pay was also known in Poland.9 In many cases we find in the source material: “they do what is required” or “what I tell them to,” which at first sight may appear, and is often taken to be unlimited villeinage, but which turns out to be hired labor, or at least an intermediary form very similar to this. This refers, among other things, to manor gardeners who earned their living from the food and grain earned during the harvesting of the corn and sometimes working for food alone.10 A similar situation can be assumed also where the number of days set in relation to the land granted, was very high, e.g., four days work by a man and three by a woman per week for garden 6

Rutkowski (1914), p. 79; Status bonorum capitularium, 1734, pp. 33ff; Goertz-Wrisberg (1900), p. X; Lennhoff (1906), p. 128; P1atzer (1904), p. 6. 7 Knapp (1902), pp. 321-322; Wuttke (1893), p. 29. 8 Wuttke (1893), p. 29; Maybaum (1926), p. 180. The custom of giving food to the villeins, which still existed in the 16 th century, disappeared in the 17 th century; Lütge (1934), p. 133; Siebeck (1904), pp. 67ff; Transche-Roseneck (1890), p. 120; Avenel (1913), p. 215; Leroy (1929), p. 162; Achard (1929), p. 59. 9 Lustracja pruska 1664, p. 9. 10 Monumenta historica Dioeceseos Wladislaviensis, vol. 24, pp. 29ff: “gardeners . . . have their houses and gardens, groundsmen do the work required by the manor, are paid for harvesting gram, in food.” Ibid., p. 55: “these [gardeners] give nought but do as they are told, for food from the manor, as well as a quarter of a twelfth of the threshed corn and each who is given food, must himself give a pair of hens.”

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land.11 The final stake of this evolution was total absorption in work for the manor. Some researchers call this phenomenon “integral corvée,” which is identical with permanent manor farm service.12 These intermediate forms would have to be divided into corvée and hired labor. It was relatively rare for work on the manor farms to be so organized that some sections were based on villein labor and others on hired. These are the relatively simplest situations, but when explaining the questions of interest to us, we also come across considerable difficulties. Examining the significance of corvée in the process of distribution of incomes in these sections necessitates the division of the feudal lord’s net income into the individual sections of production, which presents considerable difficulties, impossible to overcome at present.13 As a rule, the two categories existed simultaneously in the particular sections of production. The explanation of the role of villeinage in the process of distribution of incomes necessitates here the division of net income into that falling to corvée and hired labor. This would suggest division proportional to the quantity of work afforded by the villeins and hired laborers. This gives rise to new difficulties resulting from the fact that corvée labor was less effective than that of hired workers. To introduce this to calculations, it should be given in figures, which has not yet been carried out and about which source material affords meager information suitable for elaboration. Even greater difficulties are presented by the introducing into calculations of corrections resulting from the values of individual categories of work. The differences existing in this respect are quite distinct in the case of paid labor, in the varying rates of pay for different jobs. As is known, such differences can already be observed in the case of physical labor. They are particularly striking when one compares pay for physical work with that of supervisory or managerial positions. Utilizing these data as the basis for establishing the differences in value of various types of corvée labor presents difficulties due to the fact that in the main, work carried out by villeins differed from that done by hired labor. The customarily established equivalents far various kinds of villein services might alleviate such difficulties to a certain degree. It may be that if full use were made of the source materials hitherto not taken into consideration, or unknown, all these difficulties could be eliminated. Until this is possible, however, studies must, of necessity be 11

Istriyos Archyvas, vol. 1, pp. 467-468. Miller (1926), p. 309. 13 This is mentioned in greater detail in Chapter IV, part 2 of Rutkowski (1982), pp. 328368. 12

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restricted to uniform research on the percentage share of the lord of the manor in combined villeinage-hired labor or rent-villeinage-hired labor systems. 5. Exchange and Credit Relations between Farms Belonging to One Estate 5.1. Expenditures on the Purchase of Objects Required in Production for the Manor The three preceding chapters were concerned with estates not boasting outside economic relations and in which internal economic relations were restricted to rents and corvée rendered by the inhabitants of the estates on behalf of the lord of the manor, and wages paid to hired employees of the manorial farms, recruited from the local population. We shall now consider the complications arising from the existence of mutual exchange relations between the individual farms located within the estates belonging to one manorial lord. As, in respect of the peasants, we are only interested in total income from their own farms and wages earned, the question of mutual exchange relations between farms is of no interest. Of interest thus may only be exchange relations between the manorial estate and the farms of the rural population – and this not covering all the relations. Purchases of consumer goods from net incomes can be omitted, as these change the direction of consumption, but do not introduce changes in incomes already obtained. Attention must, however, be concentrated on the purchase of items required for production within the manorial lord’s estate. We shall take these up in greater detail than would at first appear necessary, as such expenditures lead to considerable complications in studies on the distribution of income in estates where exchange relations are more or less extensive. Such expenditures should therefore be considered in detail, basing on the assumption than one has to deal with a system in which exchange of products does not go beyond the boundaries of the estates studied. The sum expended on the purchase of objects necessary in the production of goods, and not produced within the particular estate, or received as tribute, or received but in insufficient quantities, varied greatly, this also being the case if they were taken as absolute figures, as in relation to the financial returns of given manorial estates. Amongst the factors affecting the size of such expenses, attention would primarily be

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paid to two: the extent of the manorial farm itself and the estate of which it is part, one the one hand, and the proximity of the town on the other. As regards the first, the bigger estate, the greater the differentiation of work organized by the manor; the greater the number of items needed in the individual production sections which can be produced by the estate – the fewer to be purchased. On the smaller estates, the division of labor is in fewer directions, which necessitates relatively higher expenses on the purchase of items needed for production purposes. Here we can take clay pots as an example. The larger the estate, the greater the probability of finding clay suitable for baking and the easier to install potters who would supply pots and other items in form of levies. Manorial brickyards were found only on the large estates which embraced larger towns. From the point of view mentioned, a particularly significant factor is possession of larger forest areas enabling the extensive organization of forest administration. In this respect, the great estates are better situated than the small ones, which have to purchase construction timber, wooden utensils, tar, etc. The importance of the proximity of towns is the same as in the case of studies of the work of town craftsmen. The manufacturing of items, the production of which is usually complicated, and which can be purchased cheaper in town, ceases to be profitable. 5.2. Current Expenses and Investments Outlays Expenditures for the purchase of raw materials and semifinished goods required in production, and which play such and important role in industry, are either non-existent or of no importance in farming as a rule. In rural administration, expenditures on production means mainly cover those for buildings and implements, then such ancillary items as lighting, medicines for livestock, etc. Implements and tools were non-durable and required frequent replacing, thus each year we have to deal with similar expenses. The treating of all such expenditures amounting to the same sums each year, similar to those for raw materials and semifinished goods is unquestionable. These include expenses for tools, implements, building repairs, draught animals which are not bred on the estate, and other similar expenses. There are, however, expenses which accumulate in certain years at levels unknown during average periods. These are spent on new buildings, drainage work, purchase of livestock, and maybe grain for sowing following disasters or plunder. Such expenditures are of an investment character. If these are not based on credit or lord’s own

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capital, they diminish the income for the particular year substantially. It is understandable that surpluses of returns over expenses do not, in such years, afford any proper idea as to the lord’s income from his land. As regards expenditures on normal building or drainage work, these should be treated as increasing the value of the estate, depreciation should be subtracted in the years when the buildings and melioration suffer wear and tear from utilization. If the average annual expenditures of one farm are studied, within this period of full depreciation, they can be treated as normal running costs in a year when investment costs are higher, and not make any deduction in following years. The final result of calculations will be the same as if the sums were added to the income and the later deducted during the depreciation period. Similar steps can be taken in the case of investment outlays resulting from natural disasters. The effect is a drop in income, even in the case of immediate rebuilding and the maintaining of production at the previous level. Part of the income must be used to repay debts contracted for rebuilding, or regenerating of financial capital expended for this purpose. The same procedure can be taken in respect of accounts referring to various farms, and which are to constitute the basis for calculating the average figures for the region in a given period of time. Some accounts will include the extraordinary investment expenditures and others will not, so that on the whole they will balance out. It can be seen from this that that differentiation of running and investment expenditures is unnecessary, if a greater number of accounts corresponding to the true relationship of years of normal and extraordinary investment expenses are taken into consideration. 5.3. The Method of Treating Purchases Made within the State The treating of sums spent on the purchase of objects required in production is simple when purchases are made within the given estate, meaning that the manorial farm purchases them from inhabitants whose farms are on the estate. Such purchases were, in fact, not exceptional, even in the case of the peasant population, and where the estates embraced larger towns, it was possible to carry out all purchases within the given estates. The question of purchases from inhabitants of towns within the estates will be put aside for the present. If all the accounts, not only those of the manorial farm, but also all the peasants farms on the estate, were available, the sums of expenditures considered which figured in the manor’s accounts, would also figure as income in the accounts of the peasants. Taking into consideration these

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sums when calculating the peasants’ incomes from their own farms, we would have to omit them when working out the manorial accounts. Where producers of such objects did not pay for the raw material, e.g., in the case of pottery – if the manor did not charge special levies for the right to dig the clay or for the wood used during the baking, in that of basket-making – if the manor did not charge for the wild willow twigs, and if the tools were also made by the producers themselves, then the manor’s expenditures would constitute the net income of the peasants. If the manor was paid for the right to collect the raw materials, which was frequently the case in peasant or cottage industries, or it the raw materials had to be purchased – which was typical in the case of town craftsmen, if the producers purchased tools or other items needed in the production of their goods, then their net income would be correspondingly less, which would be fully visible in the actual accounts, should such be available, or this should be taken into consideration in reconstructed accounts. The existence of these expenditures in no way changes the method of calculating the distribution on incomes between the peasants and lords and the percentage share of the former, established above for estates not having outside economic relations and in which, as it was suggested, there were no such purchases. As regards raw materials, semi-manufactured products, work tools and other items required in production, the manorial farms might have been more or less self-sufficient. Everything may have been – to a greater or lesser extent, or possibly in full – produced on the particular farm, or may also have been purchased. The differences existing in this respect in the manorial farms’ system have their counterpart in the specific formation of the peasants’ farms’ organization. The relations differ, depending upon whether we have to deal with a corvée or hired-labor system of manorial farms. The rent system coexisting with both may involve special modification. In the case of the villein system of organization of manorial farms, corvée, used in all the special, ancillary jobs, can be utilized in agricultural-stock breeding work, which results in the restricting of such production on peasant farms, to increased production in these special sectors. The gross income of the manorial farms is thus increased, but the surplus has to be spent on the purchases of auxiliary items no longer produced by the farm. The income of peasants thus increases from the sale of such products, but decreases from the sale of products characteristic of rural economy. Special corvée may be exchanged for special tributes in the particular field. The economic independence of

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peasant farms is thus extended at the expense of the self-sufficiency of the manorial farms. Where manorial farms rely on hired labor, the more auxiliary items are produced of the farms themselves, the greater the man-power utilized and the greater the wages paid out, the less the independence of the peasant farms. Reduction of the production of such objects by the manor results in the reduction of sums paid out in wages and the increase in sums spent on the purchase of the items. This is equivalent to the transferring of their production to the peasants, which increases their economic independence, increases income from their own farms, but lowers that from paid labor. Mention is here made of the fact that increasing of this independence does not usually embrace all the peasant farms, but refers only to a certain number, amongst, which those mainly engaged (or as a sideline) in some trade, constitute the most important group. Further modifications and complications of the possibilities mentioned can be observed in the genuine relations. Here we always have to deal with changes in the technical and social-economic character of the manorial and peasant farms. Such changes may be accompanied by changes in production technique, labor output, prices of objects in question, which results in changes in the distribution of incomes. Such changes, however, are always fully manifested in changes in incomes of both manor and peasants, hence there is no necessity to introduce changes in the method of calculation of the distribution of incomes. 5.4. Credit Relations Credit relations between the manor and peasant were frequent, the manor being the creditor and the peasant the debtors. Loans were granted in both money and kind. In the latter case it was most frequently a case of grain and livestock. The highest sums were noted when peasants settled on an estate and in the case of rebuilding following natural or wartime disasters. Bad harvests and cattle pest also resulted in higher loans granted in the particular year. Smaller loans were a permanent feature, as were repayments of debts. Such loans were occasionally interest-free. In so far as it is possible to check that they were repaid in full, all the items in question can be treated as verifiable. Where such loans or their parts did, in fact, become grants, due to impossibility of repayment or inefficiency of the administration, they must be treated as other grants of which mention has been made. Similar to rents, the interest on such loans, where they

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existed, debit the income of peasants’ farms in favor of the manor. Here, the difference in relation to rents is only the title of liability. 6. Complications Caused by Existence of External Economic Relations 6.1. Preliminary Comments Previous considerations have been based on the assumption that the particular estates had no outside economic relations and that the individual farms situated within one estate restricted their external relations to debts (rent, labor) borne by the peasants in favor of the manor and wages paid to the peasants by the manor. The effect and complications arising from the existence of external, i.e., beyond the boundaries of the given estates, economic relations which embrace both manorial and peasant farms, must now be considered. The question concerns exchange relations in the strict sense of the word, hiring of labor, credit relations and public obligations. It also concerns relations between villages situated within the boundaries of different estates, as well as those with towns and even beyond the boundaries of the country, this irrespective of whether they are restricted to exchange of goods, or whether they also include exchange of money. So as not to introduce ineffective complications, it is assumed that the question is one of money exchange, which not only simplifies further understanding, but is also in accordance with the actual facts. The importance of these external relations, and particularly financial economy, on the distribution of incomes between the manor and peasants consists primarily in the fact that outside factors – namely market prices – begin to influence the distribution of incomes within the agricultural system, and the fact that other participants begin to appear in the distribution of incomes, apart from the manor and peasants. 6.2. The Effect of Market Prices on the Distribution of Incomes The influence of market prices on the distribution of incomes in its simplest form, exists where we have to deal with the sale of those products only, which form the net income of the peasants or lords. Should the prices of the particular articles sold and purchased not undergo changes, the whole question would be immaterial from the point of view of distribution of incomes. Here we might have to deal with changes in the fields of consumption, the decrease or increase of

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consumption due to the diminishing or increasing of thesaurization, but this would, however, take place within one and the same distribution of incomes. In the case of changes in the prices of products sold, there may be certain changes in the distribution of incomes even when the economic relations between the manor and the peasants remain unchanged. This takes place namely, when the sale of particular kinds of products play a different role for the peasants and the manor, e.g., when the manor’s sales are mainly grain, and those of the peasants mainly the products of livestock farming, and secondly, if this difference is connected with a uniform evolution of prices of the various products. If the price of grain increases more than that for animal products, then the distribution of income will be more in favor of the manor, with the opposite being the case should the price of animal products grow faster, and so on. Thus, apart from certain exceptional cases, the level of prices is always a coefficient in the distribution of incomes and this one which stands outside the agricultural system itself. As regards the price of products sold, the market situation is manifested in the net income figures of the two groups established on the basis of prices. It is only in the case of exchange trade and the establishing of these prices that it is possible to reduce to a common denominator the various items of income in kind and only then is it possible to fulfill the stipulations established in the three previous passages, i.e., the establishing of the net incomes of peasants from their own farms and labor, and of the manor from rent and own farms, in money as a common measure of value. These items continue to constitute a sufficient basis on which to work out the percentage share of the lord of the manor. The situation differs in respect of the movement of prices of consumer goods purchased. Here, each change taking place gives rise ceteris paribus to a change in the standard of living, and thus also in the share of the distribution of incomes. This will affect the above items only in so far as concerns items purchased by the manor and constituting part of the wages of hired laborers. This embraced mainly clothing and food for the farm workers. On the other hand, as regards changes in the price of consumer goods purchased by peasant-farmers or agricultural workers and by the manor, none of these changes resulted in changes in the items constituting the basis of our calculations. There is no doubt that this results in certain inaccuracies in the calculations. It is impossible, at present, to indicate a means of eliminating them.

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6.3. Categories of External Relations Alongside the manor and peasants as the main participants in the distribution of income, various others occur when external relations appear. The complications which arise in view of this refer mainly to manorial farms with which we are here engaged. In the case of a developed financial economy we come across a substantial number of external economic relations in the manorial accounts. Among the physical persons and corporate bodies with which manorial economies maintained economic relations, several groups can be distinguished. As regards incomes, the following categories can be distinguished: incomes from the sale of products, rents from outside persons, loans incurred and returns of loans granted, together with the interest. In respect of expenditures, omitting payments on account of the manorial lord’s income and expenses for his consumer goods and his household, as well as payment for labor, the following categories of expenditures can also be distinguished: public obligations, the purchase of production means, payment of interest and loans incurred, as well as payment of loans granted. 14 Only traces of direct economic relations have remained in manorial accounts. Each person maintaining direct economic relations with the manorial economies studied, also boasted numerous other economic relations with various other farms or estates. Being interrelated these relations thus spread, if not ad infinitum, at least into areas which it would be absolutely impossible to embrace within the same research. The studies must, of necessity, be restricted to greater or lesser, but at any rate restricted groups of farms or estates which must be correspondingly separated from other farms with which they are related by other economic relations. 6.4. Burdens of Extraneous Persons Direct burdens of extraneous peasants are relatively rare in Poland, occurring primarily in greater complexes boasting substantial areas of 14

Here we shall not deal with items concerning external credit relations. The accounts concerning manorial farms relate almost exclusively to loans granted to their peasants by the manors, mention of which has been made previously. Loans granted to “outsiders” had no connection with the manorial farm, but constituted one form of investing money, thus it was not surprising that they were not entered into the manorial farm accounts. Loans, even those designed to replenish the manorial economy, were only entered into the manorial accounts in so far as the sums in question were given to the estate administrators for the purpose of payment of wages or for purchases. If repayments are not revealed, they must debit the net income in calculations.

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forests and pastures insufficiently utilized by the local population. The question always concerns the equivalent for the right to utilize land situated within a given estate but it may, however, concern various means of utilizing different types of land. Leases of arable land by persons other than those living on the particular estate are rare, as the most desirable was land situated in proximity to settlements of neighboring estates and thus close to mutual estate boundaries. Such leases could constitute the presumption that the land in question belonged to the estate on which the lessee lived, therefore such leases were avoided, the stewards or lessees of estates being forbidden to draw up such contracts. Payments for the right to graze cattle in pastures or forests, harvest hay, fell trees, etc., were much more frequent. These items of income do not, of course, have anything in common with the question of distribution of incomes between the lord and peasants of given estates. Restricting studies to estates of which outside peasants took advantage, whereas the peasants from the estates studied did not utilize the land of neighboring estates, we can eliminate the items here mentioned from our calculations. The case is different when studying estates on which the peasants utilized other land for appropriate services in favor of other landowners. Taking into account the gross income of the peasants, their services or payments to either their own or other lords, must be taken into account when establishing the income of the lord of the manor. Should we wish to restrict our studies to the distribution of incomes between the peasants and their lord, then services or payments to other lords should be omitted and the income of the peasants reduced by that part which arose from the utilization of land situated within the boundaries of other estates. To obtain a full picture of the distribution of incomes between the lords and peasants from these two categories of estates, the incomes of the peasants from the lands of other owners and the resulting debts, must also be taken into account. It results from this that when establishing the sums relating to several estates of the categories mentioned, there is no need to isolate the peasants’ incomes gained from utilization of another lord’s land from the total incomes of the given peasants, just as it is not necessary to separate the manor’s special incomes from outside peasants, from the total incomes of the corresponding owners of the latifundia. As regards intermediate burdens, in the great majority of cases, the incomes are not only from the population inhabiting particular estates, but also from those temporarily residing there. The relatively smallest incidence of this is in the case of flour mills, where the matter may concern only the inhabitants of the neighboring estates, unaware of the

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arbitrary rights of corn grinding, and primarily those who did not have their own flour mills. This was more frequently the case in respect of inns as the obligation to use their own was usually restricted to the prohibiting of the bringing in of beer and spirits from other estates, and in exceptional cases only was this also connected with a ban on the frequenting of other inns; it would not, most probably, be possible to maintain such a ban in full, in any case. Strangers attending markets and fairs, or passing through the particular estates usually took advantage of the local inns, thus substantially increasing their takings. As results from the essence of the matter, in the case of road bridge and market dues, tolls, etc., everyone passing through a given estate and subject to the by – laws to pay the dues mentioned do so. The majority of such persons were strangers. It is obvious that the landowner’s total income from these sources cannot be attributed to the burdens of his own people. If the intermediate burdens discussed were paid only by villagers inhabiting other estates, they could thus be treated as previously mentioned concerning direct burdens. In the meantime, everything would suggest that the great majority of intermediate dues were paid by merchants, rarely craftsmen, but in any case, by townspeople. Should the income from townspeople be separated in the studies, the very difficult problem of distributing the intermediate burdens between the town and village populations arises. 6.5. Wages of Outside Laborers In the great majority of cases, hired laborers employed on manorial farms belonged to the local population, these including both permanent manorial farm staff, and more or less casually employed peasants, inhabitants of the particular estates. Alongside the local population, however, also employed on the manor farms were outside laborers from neighboring villages who took up employment for one, or several days, and laborers who occasionally come from more distant regions, who usually hired out by the week or weeks. In the case of farms situated in the vicinity of towns, a substantial role was sometimes played by wages paid to various town craftsmen for special work carried out by them. If the incomes of peasants for labor could be entered into the calculations on the basis of account books for the individual workers, it would then be possible to accept the factual earnings of the local population from local and outside labor, for each landed estate. As, however, the main basis when reconstructing this item of peasants’ incomes is the accounts of manor farms outside labor must be treated on an equal with local work force for the period such is employed on a

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particular manorial farm. This greatly simplifies the matter, as it enables the sum for wages taken from the manorial accounts to be accepted in the global budget for the peasants. When basing calculations of the landowner’s percentage share on this, we set his income against the total wages paid to casual hired laborers, which is more pertinent than entering the sums for such wages into calculations of the distribution of incomes on the estate where such laborers reside permanently, and in which the lord may not have his own farms. Such cases occurred, e.g., in the Carpathians, from whence people went to work on manor farms situated in the lowlands, on other estates. Wages paid to town craftsmen can also be treated in the same way. It is here that mutual balancing of village budgets occurs, to a certain extent, by the earnings of villagers for work carried out in the town, not being taken into account. 6.6. Public Obligations The State, church, parish and on occasion, other public bodies deriving their income from dues imposed on peasants and lords, introduce certain modifications to the process of distribution of incomes between lords and peasants. This is a relatively simple matter in the case of direct burdens. All the institutions mentioned are independent participants in the distribution of incomes, of course. Basing on taxes, their incomes diminish those of the peasants and lords. It is most probably only on exceptional or random occasions that it will be possible to ascertain the uniform debiting of these burdens between the incomes of the lords and peasants. In the era of tax privileges for the upper classes, differences in the burdening of the manor and peasants were an almost common phenomenon, and frequently striking. Such burdens resulted in changes in the mutual relations between the income of the manor and that of the peasants, to the disadvantage of the latter. The percentage share of the lord of the manor will thus differ completely when these elements are treated as expenditures from incomes of the two classes and when the organizations in question are afforded the role of independent factors in the process of distribution of incomes. Ceteris paribus, in the first case the percentage share of the lord of the manor will be less than in the second. The two methods, affording different figures for the same relationships, constitute different ways of embracing the questions, the mixing of which most always lead to erroneous results. On the other hand, careful differentiation and suitable application may be instrumental in the more relevant interpretation of the questions in which we are interested. Let us call the figures based on the

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first method the percentage share of the lord, without taking into consideration the public burdens, and those based on the second method – the percentage share of the lord of the manor, taking into consideration the public burdens. 15 6.7. The Treating of Purchases Made Outside the Estates Studied The purchasing of items required in production, from outside sources, i.e., living and producing goods outside the territory considered in the studies, is particularly complicated. The items included here are purchases made in villages outside the estate, goods purchased from town-craftsmen, and those purchased from merchants who have imported them from more distant regions or even abroad. When analyzing the distribution of incomes, there is no reason why “outsiders” should be treated differently from local inhabitants, only because they live beyond a certain boundary line, if the economic relations with the manorial estates studied are the same as those of the local inhabitants. Through division of the estate, every “local” peasant supplier of these or other goods can become an “outsider.” In a feudal system, this is followed by certain changes in economic relations to what was previously one’s “own” manor. As regards rents, tributes, the obligation to afford cheap labor, or other manorial obligations, these fell on other persons. In a certain sphere, however, particularly as regards the supply of goods at market prices, previous relations may be retained unchanged. As was the case in respect of hired labor from outside, there can be two methods of procedure. First, part of the budgets of outside suppliers corresponding to the purchases, can be taken into account, but in this case analogical parts of the local population’s budgets must be omitted. Discussing the earnings of manorial hired laborers, we declared ourselves in favor of their analogical treatment. In the case of hired laborers, this question was simple in so far as the whole wage paid by the manorial estate studied was net income of the supplier. If our interest was restricted only to the part of the sum paid for goods supplied constitutes the net income of the supplier. If our interest was restricted only to the producer-supplier of the goods in question, it would be necessary to omit the sums spent by him for the purchase of raw material, which may have been supplied by a producer similar to him and once again constitute his income. This omission would in no way be justified. If we overstep the boundary of the estate for which calculations are being carried out, then not only the direct, but also intermediate suppliers must be taken into account among 15

Manorial public burdens are not included in the concept of public burdens.

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the outsiders. We are interested in the same participants in the distribution of incomes that we took into account when analyzing the relations on this score, within closed feudal units, i.e., peasants and lords, in the previously mentioned, more extensive meaning. To this should also be added the participation of the state and other public bodies. Thus the question concerned is the estimated division of the purchase price of the goods into parts corresponding to the share of each of the participants. Apart from this, it would be necessary to divide the budgets of own suppliers into part corresponding to the sums acquired by them for the goods sold within and outside the estates discussed. If we had at our disposal source materials enabling the calculations to be carried out, then expenditures for labor and the purchase of items required in production could be treated identically. Similar treatment of these expenditures would be desirable in view of the fluctuation of the boundary between the two categories. As can be noted from previous examples, this boundary may change, without entailing changes in the percentage share of the lords. In view of the tremendous difficulties which increase with the conducting of the calculations in question, however, it is much more expedient to adopt the second, much simpler and easier method, taking into account the gross budgets of suppliers inhabiting the estates studied, and omitting the part of the budgets of outside suppliers. The separate treatment of expenditures for purchases and those for laborers wages as regards external relations, is justified in part also by the fact that in the case of supplies, there is the question of the suppliers’ incomes from their own place of residence, which also has a permanent location. In the case of outside suppliers, the production process takes place outside the boundaries of the estates studied. On the other band, in the case of the hiring of outside labor, the work is always utilized within the estates studied, and although temporarily, the seasonal “outsiders” live within the estates studied. As regards the purchases of manorial farms in other villages, the sums spent on such in the individual estates may differ from those gained from sales outside the estates. The greater the number of estates taken into account, however, the greater the probability of mutual balancing of these items. The same phenomenon also appears in analogical relations between villages and towns and small towns. Here, however, differences may be greater than in the case of mutual relations between villages. This undoubtedly introduces certain inaccuracies in calculations carried out by the method proposed and we cannot see any way of avoiding them.

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6.8. Other Reasoning Leading to the Same Conclusions The following break-down of the various groups of expenditures into the purchase of items needed for production, also leads to the same conclusion in the case of purchases from “outsiders.” The necessity to ignore the sums in question is most obvious in respect of purchase of items produced for sale by a particular farm, and which are simultaneously utilized for further production, the occasional lack of which must sometimes be supplemented by purchases. This refers to such items as grain for sowing or food for the farm-hands and cattle, various victuals such as, e.g., cheese, sold permanently, but which may be lacking for the farm-hands at certain periods, thus necessitating its purchase, etc. The situation is simplest when in the same year that certain quantities of such products were purchased, similar or greater quantities were previously sold. This is most frequently the case in respect of grain for sowing or as cattle fodder. If the purchase price was the same as that at which it was sold, then the whole transaction does not influence the distribution of income and the sums in question can be treated as equal, and as such canceled on both sides of the account. Usually, however, goods are purchased at a higher price than that at which they are sold. This reduces the income of the landowner, leaving the peasants’ income untouched, hence the relationships between the two items also change. The sums in question are not, of course, canceled in the strictest meaning of the word, but nothing stands in the way of them being treated analogically, i.e., crossing them out on the side of expenditures, whilst simultaneously reducing income by the same sum. Here, we have, of course, to deal with the factual reduction of the lord’s income, due to inefficient economy. The loss arising from this must be treated in the same manner as losses arising from natural or other disasters, such as cattle or poultry plague, diminishing the number sold, barn fires reducing the quantity of grain available for sale, etc. The situation is similar when, in cases of bad harvests, cattle pest, fire or robbery, when it becomes necessary to purchase greater quantities of the items mentioned than were sold in the given year, or purchase items which were not sold at all in the accounting year in question. This mostly concerns expenses of an investment character as mentioned previously, and which, following the former reasoning, can be treated on a level with current expenditures when calculating average sums. The question of expenditures for items which constitute means of production and are not produced in the given manorial estate, is more complex. The items may be village, industrial or mining products. In

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certain cases the purchase may have been influenced due to the unprofitability of own production; vegetable seeds may serve as an example. In other cases, the reason for the purchase was inability to produce the items concerned. Classical examples here, are salt and iron, indispensable on every manorial farm, and produced by only certain farms or estates boasting saline springs and deposits of iron ore suitable for exploitation. On estates where there were no forests, building timber, wooden tools, tar, etc., had to be bought. Examining the expenditures for such items on the particular manorial farms, it can be seen that with very few exceptions they concerned items which were, however, produced on certain manorial farms. If the treating of material expenditures is considered for all the farms of a given country and not for one particular manorial farm, then the distribution of expenditures into articles produced and not produced within given estates will prove to be immaterial. If we have two manorial farms, one of which sells building timber and the other buys it, then if the two farms are in different hands, the sum gained from the sale of the timber, being an expenditure for the first, will constitute an identical income for the second. If the two farms have a single owner and if there are joint accounts, then the two sums can be omitted, and only in goods accounts will the issuing of timber from one farm to the other be noted. As all articles required in production and purchased by certain manorial farms are produced on other farms, in calculations referring to all manorial farms, all material expenditures can be treated as canceled. 6.9. Deviations Proposing the omission of purchases from outsiders, we realize that in certain situations, namely, where expenditures on these purchases are substantial and where they are not balanced on an analogical foundation based on the wage-earning of the local inhabitants-calculations so based may lead to results which distort the factual process of distribution of incomes. Such extreme relations occur, e.g., on estates on which the land was worked by the manorial farm with the help of hired laborers, and where there were no peasants’ farms. In cases of manorial farms employing only paid labor and having no other expenditures than payment for labor, this payment and the remaining gross income which is the lord’s profit, fully characterizes the distribution of income into peasants-land workers and the manor. With the appearance of other expenditures for production costs, if they are treated as canceled items, labor costs and the manorial income cease to characterize the distribution

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of incomes into these two factors and the percentage share of the lord, sufficiently. Changes in the organization of an enterprise, consisting in the increasing or decreasing of the range of means of production manufactured within the enterprise, result in changes in the total amounts of money for labor costs, and converse changes in the sums designed for the purchase of the relevant means of production. These changes may not concern the wages of the remaining workers and the income of the lord of the manor, they do, however, give rise to fundamental changes in the mutual relationship of the global sums for wages and the lord’s income, which thus cease to be conclusive, as regards explaining the percentage, share of the lords as agricultural or other entrepreneurs. We can present as an example a manorial farm not boasting its own forests, which can purchase construction timber, tools and ships, or purchase standing timber and employ men to fell and treat it. If the costs of finished products are identical in the case of both these organizational forms, then, of course, ceteris paribus, the application of one or the other form does not result in any change in the percentage share of the lords. Meanwhile, when material expenditures are omitted, the sums for global labor wages where the sum of the landowner’s income remains unchanged differ in both cases, hence the mutual relationship of the two positions undergoes a completely fictitious change. In the case of timber, it plays a relatively small role in the production on manorial farms and the differences will not be so great. In the production of evaporated salt, however, where wood plays a very important role, the organizational differences described give rise to very substantial and simultaneously fictitious changes in the sums constituting the basis for calculating the lord’s percentage share. It is obvious from this that in such situations, suppliers must be treated as a factor participating in the distribution of incomes. This conclusion is confirmed in full by an analysis of expenditures of manorial farms on craftsmen, namely those whose accounts embrace in part the sale of finished goods and in part wages for labor. Whether he sells ploughs, spades, horseshoes, etc., and reckons the cost of the iron, labor and other production costs, or in the character of a permanent farm laborer or casual short-term laborer makes the items in the manorial smithy from iron belonging to the manor, in both cases he is an identical participant in the income of the manorial farm concerned. If a basketmaker, summoned by the manor and paid by the day, makes wicker partitions in the fish-breeding ponds or sells baskets or pottles he himself made previously, in both cases his share in the manorial farm incomes is

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the same. In the light of these arguments, suppliers selling articles needed in production, to the manorial farm, should be considered as participants in the distribution of incomes of the particular manorial farm on an equal with hired laborers. As regards peasants inhabiting the given estates, the sums in question are taken into account in full in the reconstructing of incomes from their own farms, namely from industrial or other employment which might be taken into account here. On the other hand, where suppliers are only “outsiders” and where there are no peasants’ farms on the estates in question, when the expenditures in question are omitted there will be an artificial diminishing of the share of peasants in the distribution of incomes. Where, for these or other reasons, studies are restricted to such extreme or analogical – although less striking cases, the method proposed is deceptive. The budgets of outsiders should then be taken into account to the extent of purchases made by the manorial management. In the extreme case illustrated, the application of such a method will be simple, in so far as it does not necessitate the partial omitting of what is so difficult to grasp, the budgets of the farms of peasant-farmers who, in these extreme cases, are absent. On the face of it, it might appear that in the extreme situations discussed, all suppliers of the manorial farms must be treated as participants in the distribution of incomes from the given farm, including in the calculation the part of their budget corresponding to the volume of purchases. This is not, however the case; certain exceptions must be made. As the household of the great landowner forms a separate organizational whole from the manorial estate proper, engaged in the production of produce supplied to the household or for sale, the household suppliers cannot be taken into account when analyzing the distribution of incomes from the manorial farms. This must be similarly embraced in such cases in which the lord’s household forms one organizational whole with the manorial estate proper and has joint accounting. All sums spent on such purchases for the household must be separated and included in the net income of the owner of the estate. Expenditures for purposes of consumption for the functionaries of the manorial estate must be treated in exactly the same way. In the case of pecuniary remunerations, the share of the lord of the manor does not depend on the character of purchases made from such sums. As regards the purchase of items by the manor and utilized by the functionaries (e.g., clothing, food), these constitute the equivalent of wages and there is no reason why they should be treated as anything other than such. translated by Betty Przybylska

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REFERENCES A. Sources Istriyos Archyvas, I tomas amžiaus lietuvos inventoriari Surzinko K. Jablonskis, Kaunas 1934. Lustracja Pruska 1664 [Prussian Audit of 1664, according to the Treasury Archives Codex in Warsaw, Audit 35]. Monumenta historica Dioeceseos Wladislaviensis, vol. 24. Wladislaviae 1912. Status bonorum capitularium, 1734. The Archive of Latin Metropolitan Chapter in Lwów. B. Publications Achard, A. (1929). Une ancienne justice seigneuriale en Auvergne. Sugères et ses habitants. Clermont-Ferrand. Avenel, G. (1913). Histoire économique de la propriété, des salaires, des denrées et de tous les prix en général depuis l'an 1200 jusqu’à l’an 1800, vol. I. Paris: Leroux. Bujak, F. (1931). Review of Gospodarcze znaczenie ciężarów ludności włościańskiej w Polsce w XVIII wieku [The Economic Importance of Obligations of the Peasant Population in Poland in the 18 th Century], by M. Kniat. Roczniki Dziejów Społecznych i Gospodarczych 1, 218-224. Goertz-Wrisberg, W. (1900). Die Entwicklung der Landwirtschaft auf den GoertzWrisbergischen Gütern in der Provinz Hannover. Jena: Fischer. Knapp, Th. (1902). Gesammelte Beiträge zu Rechts- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte, vornehmlich deutschen des Bauernstandes. Tübingen: Laupp. Kniat, M. (1932/33). Odpowiedź [Rejoinder]. Roczniki Dziejów Społecznych i Gospodarczych 2, 619-625. Lennhoff, E. (1906). Das ländliche Gesindwesen in der Kurmark Brandenburg vom XVI. bis zum XIX. Jahrhundert. Wrocław: Marrus. Leroy, Ch. (1929). Paysans normands au XVIII siècle, vol. II. Rouen: Laine. Lütge, F. (1934). Die mitteldeutsche Grundherrschaft. Untersuchungen über die bäuerlichen Verhältnisse (Agrarverfassung) Mitteldeutschlands im XVI.-XVIII. Jahrhundert. Jena: Fischer. Maybaum, H. (1926). Die Entwicklung der Gutsherrschaft im nördlichen Mecklemburg. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. Miller, S. (1926). Essai sur l’histoire des institutions agraires de la Russie Centrale du XVI au XVIII siècle. Paris: Giard. Platzer, H. (1904). Geschichte der ländlichen Arbeitsverhältnisse in Bayern. München: Hist. Verein v. Oberbayern. Rutkowski, J. (1914). Studia nad położeniem włościan w Polsce w XVIII w. [Studies on the Situation of the Peasants in 18 th Century Poland]. Ekonomista 2, 71-121. Rutkowski, J. (1933). Le problème de la répartition des revenus à l’époque du régime de la corvée. In: La Pologne au VIIe Congrès International des Sciences Historiques, vol. 1, pp. 73-81. Warszawa. Rutkowski, J. (1982). Wokół teorii ustroju feudalnego. Prace historyczne [On the Subject of the Theory of the Feudal System. Historical Works]. Warszawa: PIW. Rybarski, R. (1931). Gospodarstwo księstwa oświęcimskiego w XVI wieku [The Economy of the Duchy of Oświęcim in the 16 th Century]. Kraków: PAU. Sée, H. (1906). Les classes rurales et le régime domanial en France au moyen âge. Paris: Giard et Briére.

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Siebeck, O. (1904). Der Frondienst als Arbeitssystem. Seine Entstehung und seine Ausbreitung im Mittelalter. Tübingen: Laupp. Transche-Roseneck, A. (1890). Gutsherr und Bauer in Livland im 17 um I8 Jahrhundert. Strasburg: Trübner. Wuttke, R. (1893). Gesindeverfassung und Gesindezwang in Sachsen bis zum Jahre 1835. Leipzig: Duncker und Humblot.

Jerzy Topolski COMMENTS ON RUTKOWSKI

Rutkowski conducted his analysis in a way which is characteristic of the model method, i.e., progressing gradually from “the simplest situations to more and more complex ones.” “We shall primarily,” he wrote, “consider the functioning of the distribution of incomes in a closed feudal system, i.e., one in which no economic relations exist between estates,”1 and within the estate itself there exist only such economic relations which are relevant for the systems that Rutkowski distinguished, i.e., cash-rentbased, corvée-labor-based and hired-laborer-based (treated as models). These systems are analyzed separately and, approximating the models to reality, also as “mixed” systems. Moreover, in the course of concretizing his model Rutkowski takes into account the exchange and credit relationships between various holdings within one manor as well as the added complexity resulting from external economic relationships. In the closed feudal system, the lord and the peasants are the only participants in the division of income; the whole income is produced by the peasants. The share of the lord in this income consists of two elements: (i) rents and tributes levied on the peasants, (ii) net revenue from the lord’s own demesne (i.e., the part of the manor that he runs directly). On the other hand, the peasants share in the overall income which they create through the following items: (i) the consumed part of the income from their own holdings, and (ii) the pay received for their labor from the lord (if such pay existed at all, and also when besides the serf’s labor service, the lord gave some remuneration to the peasants). On larger estates, the leaseholders who took out tenancies could participate in the lord’s share of income. In Rutkowski’s opinion the top administrative officials of the manor should be treated in a similar way as well (if these incomes allowed these individuals to lead “the nobleman’s lifestyle”). 1

Rutkowski (1991), p. 46.

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 225-229. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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In a “pure” cash-rent-based system, Rutkowski asserts, the totality of income is created by the peasants on their holdings (without any part of the income being created in the lord’s demesne, because such a thing does not exist in this system). One part of this income is taken over by the lord in the form of tributes and rents, and the second part is left to the peasant as the income from his own holding (after meeting the needs of production). If the peasants employed servants or hired laborers (in his simplified model, Rutkowski for the time being does not take the latter categories into account), an additional problem could arise of their share in the income of the peasant holding. If the totality of income is accepted as constant then, as the lord’s part of the income increases due to growing exploitation of peasants, the peasants’ income decreases accordingly. As Rutkowski puts it, the “rate of exploiting the peasant population” changes. The situation is more complex in the serf-labor-based system, even a “pure” one, in which “villeinage is the only obligation to the manor and the villeins are the only workers on the manor.” 2 Rutkowski is the first in the literature of the subject to show the differences between the economic roles of cash rent and labor service. In the case of cash rent, that is in the cash-rent-based system, the burden imposed on the peasants is tantamount to the income of the landlord. In case of labor service, however, categories such as the pay equivalent to labor cannot be applied (such categories are proper to the capitalist system or to the hiredlaborer-based model in feudalism). Consequently, the possible value of serfs’ labor service in the demesne as calculated according to the pay of the hired labor (if the market and the price for it exists at all) “differ completely from the income gained by the lord of the manor from corvée.” 3 Rutkowski writes: It results from this that in a villeinage system, studies on the distribution of income solely within the sphere of peasant’s farms, [as based on calculation of their incomes and expenses, which was the case of, for example M. Kniat, who used this procedure in order to answer other questions; footnote by J.T.] do not afford any precise or suitable concept of the role of corvée in the true distribution of incomes between the peasants and the lord of the manor.4

Therefore, the research should include the investigation of both the serf holdings and the manor and focus on the ways in which the serfs and the lord participated in the totality of income from both of these 2

Rutkowski (1991), pp. 56-57. Ibid., p. 58. 4 Ibid. 3

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categories of economic units. This kind of computation should encompass the peasant population as a whole, i.e., not only those who had their own holdings, which incidentally makes redundant the onerous process of determining the exact number of days of labor service actually executed by the serfs, as opposed to the number of days which was due (and which is usually the only thing that is known). Some forms of labor service, as Rutkowski claims, can be (in exceptional cases) treated as the release of the landlord from the obligation to pay for the work in question (for example, cleaning town street by the serfs from villages which were owned by this town). In the hired-labor-based feudal system, i.e., in a situation in which agricultural production occurs on a smaller or greater number of manors, the totality of agricultural income is created exclusively on these manors and is subsequently divided into the income of the landlord and the income (paid in cash or in kind) of the hired laborers working on these manors. As Rutkowski pointed out, the three models of the socio-economic system described above (cash-rent-based, corvée-labor-based, and hiredlabor-based) in actuality rarely occurred in their pure forms. Usually, they existed in various combinations, which Rutkowski analyzed, carrying out appropriate concretizations based on the findings obtained from “pure” models. Such concretization of the model was particularly difficult in cases where the means of production were involved in the exchanges.5 Needless to say, the movement of prices alone makes the models more complex (for example, in the case of manors and peasant holdings, which sell different proportions of their produce on the market). As Rutkowski points out, the price conditions on the market are a factor to be included in the analysis of the division of income, constituting simultaneously a factor which is external with respect to the agricultural system itself. As far as the prices of sold agricultural produce are concerned, the price conditions in the market are reflected in the value of the pure income of both groups, because its calculation is based on these prices: It is only in the case of exchange trade and the establishing of these prices that it is possible to reduce to a common denominator the various items of income in kind and only then is it possible. . . . The establishing of the net incomes of peasants from their own farms and labor, and of the manor from rent and own farms, in money is a common measure of value.6

5 6

Cf. Rutkowski (1982b), p. 582. Rutkowski (1991), p. 74.

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As far as the price conditions for the purchased consumer goods are concerned, “each change taking place gives rise ceteris paribus to a change in the standards of living, and thus also in the share of the distribution of incomes.”7 Specific modifications in the division of incomes are caused last but not least by the existence of some public institutions such as the state, the church or the peasant commune. In the age of tax privileges for higher estates the tax burden connected with these institutions weighed heavily against peasants in the overall division of incomes. The distinction that Rutkowski draws between the peasant holdings and the manors as separate types of economic units with respect to their incomes is closely connected with the fact that he employs the terms of ‘enterprise’ and ‘entrepreneur’. Rutkowski does not apply these terms with all their capitalist connotations but embarks on an interesting analysis of the usefulness of their application in the feudal system. “This whole problem” he wrote, “must be separately analyzed in view of the different structures of both systems.”8 He comes to the conclusion that he will use the term ‘enterprise’ in a broader sense than the one in which it is usually employed, namely in the sense “encompassing not only capitalist enterprises but also all non-capitalist forms of organization of production, including the peasant holdings, artisan workshops, etc., which are sometimes juxtaposed with capitalist enterprises.”9 It is not usually the case in the feudal system that one person is the owner of the means of production, organizing and managing production, shouldering all the costs and the risks involved and that he has at his disposal all the products manufactured in his enterprise. Nor is it the case in the capitalist system. While outlining in this way his concept of the feudal entrepreneur and the feudal enterprise, Rutkowski refrains however from defining them more precisely, because “it requires fairly extensive studies” exceeding the scope of his investigation into the division of incomes. translated by Katarzyna Radke

7

Ibid., p. 75. Rutkowski (1982a), p. 173. 9 Ibid. 8

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REFERENCES Rutkowski, J. (1982a). Badania nad podziałem dochodów w Polsce w czasach nowożytnych [Analysis of the Division of Incomes in Poland in Modern Times]. In: Wokół teorii ustroju feudalnego [Reflections on the Theory of the Feudal System], pp. 71452. Warszawa: PIW. Rutkowski, J. (1982b). Zagadnienie podziału dochodu społecznego do XVIII wieku [The Issue of the Division of Social Income to the 18th Century]. In: Wokół teorii ustroju feudalnego [Reflections on the Theory of the Feudal System], pp. 569-583. Warszawa: PIW. Rutkowski, J. (1991). The Distribution of Incomes in a Feudal System. Wrocław: Ossolineum.

Krzysztof Brzechczyn THE DISTINCTIVENESS OF CENTRAL EUROPE IN LIGHT OF THE CASCADENESS OF THE HISTORICAL PROCESS

1. Introduction Economic dualism in modern Europe has been considered one of the greatest paradoxes in the history of the European continent in the late 16 th and the early 17 th century, and one that has permanently influenced the contemporary shape of Central Europe. However, distinct features in the development of Central European countries such as Poland, Bohemia and Hungary came into existence as far back as in early feudal times, i.e., from the 9 th to 12 th centuries. Feudalism in those countries followed a different course from that in Western Europe. Central European societies remained outside Roman influences and the Carolinian succession, where private ownership of land and the system of suzerain-vassal dependencies were formed. Instead, a system of prince’s law developed in Central Europe, under which the peasantry was inferior to the ruling class by virtue of public (prince’s) and not private law. 1 In the 12 th and 13th centuries that system started to disappear gradually in all Central European countries. By way of bestowing immunities first upon the Church and then upon individual feudal lords, the prince’s authority granted land together with peasants living on it. It followed that the prince gave up his economic and legal interests in the land and the peasantry. In the course of such processes, the feudal class, typical of Western European societies, came into existence in that region. From the 13 th to 15 th centuries both parts of Europe, eastern and western, developed analogically: towns expanded, the monetary economy prevailed over kind economy, compulsory service was being replaced with rent, and the feudal control over the peasantry lessened. But since 1

Modzelewski (1975) and (1987).

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 231-268. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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the turn of the 15th and 16th centuries, the developmental distinctiveness gradually increased in Central European countries compared with Western Europe. The river Elbe became the borderline between the two economic zones. West of the river, towns as well as crafts and manufacture vigorously expanded, while peasants gained freedom from feudal dependencies. The social balance between the burghers and the nobility enabled the state to gain in power and transform in the modern period from the estate monarchy into absolutist monarchy. By contrast, east of the Elbe, the towns of that region clearly witnessed a crisis: a decrease in population and craftsmen’s production. In the rural economy, the development of the manorial-serf economy superseded the earlier monetary economy. That process was accompanied by the growth of compulsory labor imposed by the lords over the peasantry and the introduction of the second serfdom. The economic superiority of the nobility was also strengthened in politics: in all societies of Central Europe, the burghers exerted a minor influence upon public life in comparison with Western Europe, whereas the state was subordinated to the vital interests of the nobility. The rise and development of the manorial-serf economy, which aggravated the exploitation of the peasantry was a basic factor leading to the emergence of two economic zones in modern Europe. In this essay, I aim to interpret the emergence of the Central European line of development on the basis of the concept of the cascadeness of historical process.2 The course of development in Central Europe relied on many insignificant factors. However, their joint influence outweighed the impact of developmental regularities according to which societies in Western Europe evolved, and which within a short period also reached the societies of Central Europe. Factors that appear in the cascade of European differentiation include its core, i.e., a set of variables which operated in each of the societies under study, i.e., Polish, Bohemian and Hungarian societies, as well as specific factors responsible for the development of each of those Central European societies. 2. The Core of the Cascade of European Differentiation The factor that initiated the process of European differentiation was the shortage of manpower. The disproportion between Western and Central Europe in population density derived from the times of the Roman 2 For the concept of the cascadeness of the historical process see: Brzechczyn, Methodological Peculiarities . . . , reprinted in this volume, pp. 137-157.

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Empire. In the 1st century AD, the Roman part of the European continent, namely the area west of the Rhine and south of the Danube was inhabited by ca. 70% of the continent’s population. Ten centuries later, ca. 65 % of the continent’s population still lived in the area. In the 10 th century, about 49 million people inhabited Europe. At that time, the population of France was 9 million, compared with 7 million in Italy, 5.4 million in Germany, and 5 million in England and Wales. Central European countries of those times were respectively less populated: Poland had a population of 1.25 million, Bohemia and Moravia that of 1 million, and Hungary about 1 million. Population density in particular countries was just as diverse, e.g., 24 people per square km in Italy on the one square km, compared with 16 in France, 10 in Germany and 8 on British Isles, whereas in Poland the respective figure was 5 people and 8 people in Bohemia.3 In the late Middle Ages, one could identify three population zones. The most densely populated zone with the density above 20 people per square km stretched from England to the Apennine Peninsula and included such countries as Italy, central and northern France, western and southern Germany and England. Along both sides of that strip there stretched the terrains with a population density between 8 and 15 people per square km. To the west of that zone southern France, Spain and Portugal were situated, and to the east were Denmark, Mecklenburg, Poland, Bohemia, Hungary and the Baltic states. Apart from these two zones, the authors cited above distinguish an area of the lowest population density (up to 2 people per square km) with Russia and the Scandinavian countries. Hence, the societies of Central Europe were located between the second and third zone.4 The population growth in the countries of Western Europe was disrupted in the middle of the 14 th century by the plague epidemic, which reduced the continent’s population by 25% in comparison to its initial state.5 The loss of population was spread unevenly because in particular areas of England it was equal to 23-45%, compared with 25% to 35% in France, from 40% to 60% in north Italian towns, 30% in Spain, and from 25% to 75% in Germany in comparison to its initial state.6 The epidemic of the plague did not affect the countries of Central Europe, which saw a population growth from the 13th to 17 th centuries.7 In the first half of the 3

Małowist (1973), pp. 18-21. Mączak and Samsonowicz (1985), p. 8. 5 Russel (1975), p. 41. 6 Rutkowska-Płachcińska (1978), p. 83. 7 Helleiner (1967), p. 38. 4

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14 th century, the population of Poland increased to 1.8 million people, of Bohemia to 2 million, and of Hungary to 2.5-3 million. In modern times, the population of Hungary was equal to 4 million of people (turn of the 15 th and 16 th centuries), Bohemia had a population of 2.5 million (end of 16 th century), and Poland 4 million (turn of the 15th and 16th century). A considerable decrease in the population of Central European countries was a consequence of the wars, famine and epidemics in the 17 th century. As a result, the population of Hungary at the close of the 17 th century fell to 2.5-3 million, of Bohemia and Moravia to 0.9 million and of Poland (at the beginning of the 18th century) to 6 million people (a drop from 10 million in the mid-17th century).8 A low level of population density in Central Europe in the 13th and th 14 centuries stimulated feudal lords to make concessions to the peasantry. To a certain extent, the feudal class relinquished their prerogatives obtained from the political authorities. The feudal lords granted wide-ranging privileges to the settling population of peasants. The direct cause of the colonization undertaken by the grand landowners was their desire to raise their income. Under the circumstances of scarce population in the societies of Central Europe, the increase in the number of serfs was the only way to ensure income stability. According to Marian Małowist, it is the factor of the scarcity of manpower that is essential in understanding the mechanisms of colonization undertaken by the grand feudal landowners: the relatively small population in the countries of Central Eastern and Eastern Europe was a decisive prerequisite for the liquidity of manpower in the villages. Low population density forced the rulers and aristocracy to revoke economic stimuli which would bring about the influx of foreign and domestic people, put the end to their flight and persuade them to intensify their work.9

An additional factor that facilitated colonization and settlement was an increasing overpopulation of Western European societies. From the 12 th to the 14 th century, Germany, neighboring with Poland and Bohemia: Which at that time had a population density of ca. 20 people per 1 square km, reached the highest possible stage of population growth at the level of productive forces that were characteristic of that time; hence, it sent its population surplus to the European East, similarly to France, which sent its to the distant lands of the crusades. 10

First of all, the initiators of the settlement were grand landowners, because they belonged to a social group which was the first to obtain 8

Fügedi (1985), pp. 47-59; Małowist (1973), pp. 19-20; Russocki, (1977), p. 75. Małowist (1973), pp. 15-16. 10 Kurowski (1980), p. 32. 9

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immunity from the prince’s authority and was able to bear the costs of integrating agricultural land, importation of settlers and above all costs of securing their proper economic conditions. These usually included dozen or so years of exemption from taxes and obligations.11 The feudal lords used legal solutions which, under the name German Law, were transferred from Western to Central Europe and applied with respect to the peasantry. German Law endowed peasants with personal freedom, the right to leave the village and guaranteed them hereditary ownership of land. Within their class, peasants could dispose of their land as they wished, selling or renting it. However, the sale of land to the representative of another estate required separate consent from the lord. Inhabitants of villages founded on the German Law also enjoyed the guarantee of irremovability from land which they cultivated. The village, moreover, obtained judicial self-government. Settlement on new terrains was accompanied by prolonged exemptions from payments and taxes (ca. 10-15 years). These rights were vested not in individuals but in village communes. The privileges which were initially granted only to settlers were furthermore extended to the domestic population. German settlement led to an increased population potential of the countries where the colonized terrains were located. Population density of Bohemia, which was 6 people per square km in the 11th century, increased to 14. Hungary saw a similar population growth. In the year 1000, the country had a population of about 1 million. In the mid-13th century, in spite of the destruction brought about by the Tartar invasion, the Hungarian society had 2 million people, and the figure doubled at the beginning of the 16 th century. At that time, Poland observed a similar demographic increase. In the 11 th century, the average population density was 5 people per square km. In the mid-14th century, the average density was 8 people per square km and reached 15 in the 16 th century.12 German settlement and colonization based on German Law concurred to support the growth of productive forces in the societies of Central Europe. Most changes in that respect were caused by the spread of the three-field system. The average family in the alternate-fallow system needed 34 ha of cultivated soil to make a living; whereas the whole area that it used was equal to 100 ha. In the three-field system, on the other hand, the average family used 4-8 ha of cultivated soil. This meant that the area of cultivated land equal to 100 ha in the three-field system could 11

Cf. Piskorski (1990), pp. 174-178; Tymieniecki (1923), pp. 38-79; Kormendy (1984), pp. 481-491; Gąsiorowski (1960), pp. 123-170; Zientara (1978), pp. 47-74; Małowist (1973), pp. 13-14. 12 Piskorski (1990), pp. 241-242.

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nourish from 30 to 60 people.13 The 13 th and 14 th centuries witnessed a widespread dissemination of agricultural tools that had not been known before. One of the most important tools was the iron plough. Thanks to its iron parts, it could open heavier and more fertile soils, which were inaccessible to a shovel plough. In the same period of time, apart from the iron plough, other agricultural tools such as: frame harrows, scythes, spades and axes came into common use.14 Following the changes in agricultural technology, a considerable increase in crop yield was recorded. In the 10th and 11 th centuries, the average harvest was about 1.5-3 grains from one seed. Half of it was reserved for next year’s sowing. The other half, after the diminution of levies and tributes, remained at the farmer’s disposal.15 As a result of changes in cultivation technology, the yield increased in the 13th and 14 th centuries to 3-4 grains from one seed and to 5 grains on certain lands. The average harvest at that time ranged from 4 to 5 grains from one seed. From the mid-12 th to the mid-14th century, agricultural production in Central Europe rose by ca. 30-65%, and in certain areas it even doubled.16 As early as in the 12th century, German settlement and colonization based on German Law included the terrains between the Oder and the Elbe. At that time, certain groups of Romance origin were settling in Hungary. In the 13th and 14 th centuries, German colonization reached Silesia, Pomerania, Wielkopolska, Małopolska, Bohemia, Moravia, Slovakia, Transylvania, and Hungary as well as Prussia and Livonia. The true center of German settlement was Silesia, where about 1200 villages were founded in the years 1200-1350. From the 12 th to the 14th century, according to German historiographic estimates, about 180,000-200,000 settlers were to have reached that land. Another important agglomeration of German settlement was Eastern Prussia. About 1400 villages were founded there, inhabited by 150,000 settlers.17 Population density in Central European countries also influenced the development of the urban economy in that region of the continent. First of all, cities in both parts of Europe originated and developed in different periods of time. In the West, they emerged earlier, i.e., at the turn of the 10 th and 11th centuries. In Central Europe, cities emerged later, at the turn of the 12 th and 13 th centuries. These temporal differences were the result of unequal technological advancement. In the West, under the pressure 13

Łowmiański (1967), p. 312. Podwińska (1962), pp. 174-176. 15 Łowmiański (1967), p. 307. 16 Piskorski (1990), pp. 242-245. 17 Aubin (1942), pp. 396-397. 14

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from the population, technological progress was achieved earlier,18 whereas it was in fact imported to Central Europe from the Western part of the continent. The emergence of towns in both parts of Europe occurred in different social conditions, which were shaped principally by relations between the feudal class and the peasantry. In Western Europe, the urban sphere emerged at the stage of the peasantry’s declining economic situation. As a result of migration to cities, peasants could increase their income and enlarge the urban population. In Central Europe, instead, the rise of towns emerged at the stage of the improvement in the economic situation of the peasantry, what was manifested by the growth in settlement based on German Law. That was why the migration of peasants to towns was more limited and hence the proportion of the urban population in Central Europe was also respectively smaller. An argument supporting that thesis might be a considerable percentage of German, Armenian, and Jewish residents in towns of Central Europe (in the 13 th and 14 th Jewish settlement began in Poland centuries as a result of persecution in Western Europe). In certain strata of the society (the patriciate), the population of foreign origin even gained absolute advantage over the native population. Let us follow these processes in detail. In the 12th and 13th centuries technological progress, as well as related phenomena such as a growth in output, specialization and division of labor, gave rise to the development of towns in Central Europe. Urban reform usually began by granting legal autonomy to foreign merchants who lived in proto-urban settlements. The so-called location was the second stage. It usually led to founding towns on greenfield sites or to reconstructing existing settlements, because the centers of population making a living outside farming existed in that part of the continent as early as in the period from the 10th to 12th century, and even in the pre-state period. Municipal reform in this sense started at the turn of the 12 th and 13th centuries. The promoters of location, that the founding of the completely new towns or granting rights to the centers of settlements which had existed before location, were the monarchs, grand lords or the Church. Both kinds of locations brought profit to all the parties involved: the owner, the burghers-settlers and to the promoter of location. The feudal lord, in consequence of successful location, exercised control over rent that he received from the plots on lease, and obtained merchant and market fees, rent paid by craftsmen, and similar profits. The settlers, on the other hand, enjoyed suitable conditions for initiating business activity. They acquired their own jurisdiction, and 18

White (1962), p. 53.

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obtained exemptions from levies. The feudal lord also bestowed on them privileges which made business and commercial activity easier. One of the privileges was, for example, the privilege to set up a marketplace, to get exempted from levies, to have goods in stock, and the so-called “mile law” that restricted competition within rural craft by indicating the radius within which trade was prohibited. Finally, location was rewarding for its promoter. He usually became the commune officer (wójt), i.e., a representative of the feudal lord who was the founder of the town. The promoter usually received a larger plot of land, he enjoyed the right to use the lord’s woods and waters. Since he represented the owner, he also had a judicial and supervisory authority, and enjoyed revenue and tax privileges. Municipal law in the towns of Central Europe was based on the Magdeburg Law, whereas the organization of the Baltic towns was based on the Lübeck Law. 19 In the mid-14th century, 144 town centers were affected by such reform. The number included 60 towns, i.e., 24% of proto-urban centers in Poland, and 14 towns, i.e., 14% of proto-urban centers in Bohemia.20 Location should not be identified with urban self-government, which usually appeared later, simultaneously with the formation of the town council. In the initial period, urban authority belonged to the representative of the feudal lord, i.e., the commune officer. However, after a longer or shorter period of diarchy, the town council usually bought out the rights of the owner of the town. Purchase of the commune officer’s rights was considered the third stage in the evolution of Central European cities. It occurred later, in the 14 th and 15 th centuries.21 It is evident from the above presentation that towns in Central Europe developed under the patronage of rather than in opposition to the great ownership. Therefore, Central Europe did not witness the urban revolution of the 10 th and 11th centuries that was characteristic of the development of Western Europe. In the course of these events, the burghers gained independence and autonomy from feudal lords. Another characteristic trait of towns in Central Europe was their small size. Comparing towns of Western and Eastern Europe, Henryk Samsonowicz states, for instance, that around 1450 Europe had about 4,000 settlements called towns.22 About two thirds of that number were rural settlements. Out of 14 largest cities (with a population of over 40,000) only three ones were situated in Eastern Europe: Moscow, Prague, and Constantinopole. 19

See Piskorski (1990), p. 246; Bogucka and Samsonowicz (1986), pp. 50-53. Wędzki (1974), p. 234. 21 Ibid., p. 208; Zientara (1974), pp. 7-8. 22 Samsonowicz (1977), pp. 94-96. 20

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Out of those three, only Prague, ranking low within the category of the largest cities, was situated in Central Europe. Out of the 40 large cities with a population ranging from 20,000 to 40,000, five were situated in Eastern Europe. They were Lübeck, Gdańsk, Nowogród, Wrocław, and Thessaloniki. Thus, Central Europe in the mid-15th century had only 3 large cities. About 80 towns belonged to the category of medium towns, with a population ranging from 8,000 to 20,000 inhabitants. In Eastern Europe, there were about 30 towns that belonged to that category. They included Kraków (Cracow), Toruń, Elbląg, Lwów, a few Silesian cities, Królewiec, Riga, Szczecin, Wismar, Strzałów, Rostock, Magdeburg, and a few Russian, Bohemian, and Balkan cities. In Central Europe of that period there were around 20 medium-sized cities, that is ca. 25% of the overall number of cities from that category. About 400 small towns with a population of 2,000 to 4,000 included ca. 120 towns of that size in Eastern Europe. The fact that towns originated in both parts of the continent at different periods affected the nature of trade ties between Western and Central Europe. The products of Central European craftsmanship appeared on the European market later, so they had to compete with the products of the earlier and more advanced Western European craft. This barrier of the later start was never overcome. Since the late medieval age, Central European societies specialized in exporting raw materials, minerals, and food products. On the other hand, Western Europe became the producer of highly processed craft and later manufactured products which were sold to countries in Central Europe. Such a state of affairs was maintained and even extended in the modern period. What took place at that time was a shift in trade routes: Levantine and Mediterranean commerce lost its importance, replaced by Atlantic and Baltic trade. Another phenomenon was a change in the type of commodities that were traded: mass-consumption products gained advantage over luxury articles.23 In the course of trade exchange, the countries of the Baltic region, i.e., Poland, Prussia, Lithuania, Brandenburg, and Pomerania exported mainly raw materials and food products: cereal, hemp, flax, wood, tar, birch tar, leather, and furs. At the same time they imported from Western Europe highly processed craft products, especially woolen cloth, textile goods, and luxury articles.24 More advanced development in Western Europe, which forced a specific type of economic ties,

23 24

Pach (1970), pp. 218-220. Małowist (1959b), p. 720; Mączak and Samsonowicz (1964), p. 201.

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strengthened the backward economic structure of Central European countries.25 An additional factor consolidating this type of economic exchange was the so-called price boom which occurred in the 16th century. In the course of this century, prices increased from four to seven times on average (with an annual increase amounting to ca. 2-3%).26 The impact of that phenomenon depended upon an unequal increase in prices, which was higher for agricultural and animal produce, and lower for craft products. The price boom strengthened the agricultural structure of Eastern European countries and the monopolistic position of the nobility because the same amount of crops could be sold for the price of a greater number of craft products.27 The above-mentioned factors determined the urbanization crisis which at different times affected the above-mentioned countries of Central Europe. Its symptoms were at first visible in Hungary, since it occurred there as early as at the turn of the 15 th and 16th centuries. Bohemian cities were afflicted in the second half of the 16th century and the urban sector in Poland at the turn of the 16th and 17th centuries.28 The economic weakness of urban production was reflected in the lesser social importance of the burghers in comparison to Western Europe. In her studies on the social activity of Central European burghers, Maria Bogucka adopts E. Lousse’s categories of the three levels of estate awareness.29 This is said to be composed of (i) the ability to form occasional coalitions of defensive nature, (ii) the ability to create permanent alliances in defense of common interests, (iii) the ability to force out estate privileges. According to Bogucka, Polish burghers achieved the first level of awareness. This social group was able to form temporary confederations to protect its interests and take part in the confederations of the nobility. This capability was characteristic of Polish cities only until the mid-15th century. Since the second half of the 15 th century, they have not even formed occasional, defensive confederations. Bohemian and Hungarian cities achieved the second stage of estate awareness. The burghers in 25

Mączak (1967), p. 12. Koenigsberger and Mosse (1968), pp. 22-23. 27 Hoszowski (1961), p. 308; Małowist (1959a); (1961), pp. 315-320; Hroch and Petran (1964), pp. 5-7. 28 Bogucka (1981), p. 7. 29 Ibid., pp. 22-23. 26

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those countries took part in the Hussite Revolution and Reformation, and joined the nobility in the struggle against the Habsburgs; also, they had the right to send its representatives to Parliament. However, the basic feature of political systems in Hungary, Bohemia and Poland was the domination of the nobility in representative institutions. That advantage gave the nobility the necessary influence to enact law and control the activity of the state which served the interests of the predominant social class. As early as in the first half of the 15th century (in 1437 in Bohemia, in 1496 in Poland and in 1514 in Hungary) they issued legal acts against the migration of peasants. The state regulations, which limited freedom of the peasantry, were considerably easier to enforce due to the weakness of the burghers and insignificant role of the urban labor market. According to the comparison made by Arcadius Kahan: The role of the cities was also different in the Western and Eastern Europe. While in the West most of the cities developed into corporate bodies with charters guaranteeing the freedom of the city-dwellers and therefore sometimes served as an escape route from serfdom, in Eastern Europe many of the cities did not possess such charters, or were owned by large serf owners and could not provide the escape valve for serfs. 30

In view of the shortage of manpower, the political domination of the nobility was the next factor influencing the development of Central European societies. This factor facilitated the introduction of serfdom and restrictions on the development of cities of that region. First of all, a prerequisite to understanding the causes of the emergence of the manorial-serf economy is the analysis of social relations between the estate of the nobility and the peasantry. The shortage of manpower was an important factor influencing those relations. In agreement with the prevailing opinions of historians, the introduction of the second serfdom in Central Europe was caused by the deficit of manpower. Bounding the peasant to the land, which was supposed to counteract instances of escapes, was a reaction of the owners to the increasing demand for the manpower of the peasants.31 Other conditions for the second serfdom were the relations between the nobility and the burghers as well as between the nobility and the state authority. The guarantee of economic exploitation of the peasantry relied upon the ability of the nobility to carry its interests in both social relations. The state authority, subjected to the interests of the nobility, withdrew from regulating the agricultural economic system. The nobility gained additional instruments of state coercion, which could be used 30 31

Kahan (1973), p. 98. Longworth (1992), p. 190.

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against the peasantry. The weakness of the authority also influenced the relations between the burghers and nobility. The subjugation of the state to the interests of the nobility increased the advantage of that estate over the burghers. Such a situation was possible as a result of the weakness of Central European cities. Limiting through political means the development of urban economy lessened the competitiveness of that sphere of production, which indirectly strengthened the position of the nobility against the peasantry. The superiority of the nobility in one social sub-arrangement conditioned the achievement of this same superiority in the other one. In that configuration of factors that were constantly present in the cascade of European differentiation, the shortage of manpower had different functions at various stages of social development. When the owners could not resort to the coercion used by the centralized state apparatus (the period of feudal divisions), the scarcity of manpower extorted from the nobility concessions granted to the direct producers. When, however, the nobility succeeded in subjugating the state and limited the influence of the urban sphere (its weakness was among other things conditioned by a low level of population) that factor stimulated the restoration of serfdom and a considerable growth in exploitation. The core of the cascade of the European differentiation, which occurred in each of three Central European societies under analysis, can be depicted in the following visual form: demand for crops

shortage of manpower

development of the manorial-serf economy

weakness of cities

political domination of nobility

Fig. 1. The core of the cascade of European differentiation

In accordance with the above schema, scarce supply of manpower tempered the exploitation of peasantry. However, the improvement in the economic situation of that social group hindered the growth of cities and

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at the same time made it difficult to obtain sufficient manpower. Underdevelopment of cities enabled the nobility to subordinate the state to its interests. As a result, the nobility could further weaken the position of cities in the society and intensify the relations of exploitation in agriculture. The decline of peasants’ income brought about the decrease of the purchasing power of the largest social group and blocked the prospects for the cities’ growth. An additional factor which played the role of the catalyst of social changes was the demand for crops, both domestic and foreign, which accelerated the differentiation of developmental directions of the societies in both parts of Europe. The distinctive developmental course of Central Europe was not influenced by the one principle factor but was a consequence of a multifactor influence. At a certain moment, a gradual accumulation of these variables predominated over the influence of basic developmental mechanisms that were characteristic of the evolution of societies in Western Europe because such a number of counteractive factors did not appear there. These intuitions are shared by many historians who deal with the history of that region. For example, Peter Longworth is the author of the following opinion: And there was a plethora of other factors which intervened at various point with varying intensity to influence the course things took. Linguistic differences, for example, sometimes fed into religious and political struggles; and social classes sometimes gained and lost constitutional rights according to the religion they embraced at particular moment. Low population density in Poland-Lithuania contributed to the enserfment of the peasant; . . . The Baltic grain boom had helped to promote serfdom, yet the end of the boom around the turn of the century served not to remove serfdom but entrench it. . . . The interactions of circumstances and catalysts that shaped Eastern Europe in the period from 1526 to 1648 far exceeded in complexity the most complicated transmutation process in any alchemist’s laboratory. 32

Within the cascade of the European differentiation one can distinguish factors which form its core as well as those which are characteristic only of the developmental directions of particular societies. The presence of the latter led to an uneven development of the manorial-serf economy in each of the three societies discussed above. In Poland, the manorial-serf economy appeared in the course of the 16 th century, in Hungary in the second half of that century and in Bohemia in the 17 th century. This allows to discern regional variants which shaped the distinctive nature of development, namely the Polish, Hungarian and Bohemian variants of the cascade of the European differentiation. 32

Longworth (1992), p. 183; see also Żytkowicz (1974).

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3. The Polish Variant of the Cascade In 12 th and 13 th century Poland, prince’s law disintegrated definitively. During that period, grand feudal ownership formed and strove for increasing income through the development of German colonization and settlement based on German Law, which improved the wealth of the peasantry. Economic changes were already in progress and contributed to the development of urban economy at the turn of the 13th and 14 th centuries. In the estate society, the advantage over other social groups was gradually gained by the knighthood which later transformed into the nobility. That process can be best traced with reference to the example of the development of the nobility privileges and the formation of the system of democracy of nobility. As early as in 1372, the Polish king reduced the tax paid by the nobility from 14 groszy to 2 groszy from 1 łan (ca. 15 ha) and announced that he would not impose any new taxes without consent of the nobility. The privilege of 1422 forbade the confiscation of estates owned by the nobility, and another one of 1433 prohibited imprisonment of a nobleman without a binding court order. The privileges which were initially granted to the nobility included the guarantees of their civil rights and economic property. In the second half of the 15 th century, the principles of the system of the democracy of nobility were formed. In 1454 in Nieszawa, Casimir Jagiellonian accepted the principle that all important decisions, such as proclaiming new rights and summoning a mass levy would require the consent of the nobility, expressed at regional assemblies (sejmiki). At the end of the 15th century the General Sejm (parliamentary assembly), composed of the delegates of the nobility chosen at the regional assemblies was constituted. In 1505, that new institution was strengthened by the Nihil Novi law which prohibited the king from laying down new laws without prior consent of the Sejm. The position of the nobility was further strengthened at the expense of the prerogatives of the central authorities after the extinction of the dynasty of Jagiellonians and the introduction of the elective throne. Every newly elected king had to sign the so-called Henrician Articles (Artykuły Henrykowskie) and the Pacta Conventa. The Henrician Articles were a collection of fundamental laws which formed the backbone the political system of the Republic. They guaranteed the elective succession of the throne and religious tolerance, imposed the duty to call the Sejm for 6 weeks at least once every two years and prohibited new taxes without a prior consent of the Chamber of Deputies. Should these provisions be infringed upon, the nobility would have the right to refuse obedience to

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the King. In the 17th century, the process of decentralizing the Republic was initiated. In the face of the growing paralysis of central state institutions (since 1648 the resolutions of the Sejm had to be unanimous by virtue of the liberum veto), more and more competencies concentrated in local institutions, at the level of regional assemblies. Those changes were accompanied by changes in the estate of the nobility, i.e., the declining importance of the middle nobility, which supported the reform movement in the 16th century, and the rise of the significance of the magnates. One of the decisive factors that were responsible for such a course of social evolution was the weakness of the cities. Apart from conditions which were characteristic of the whole region under discussion, there were also cascade factors which were found solely in the Polish society. One of them was the ethnic descent of the burghers. The urban patriciate, mainly of German origin, was not interested in uniting the Polish state by the Piast dynasty in the 13th and 14 th centuries. In that period, the patriciate representatives supported the idea of uniting Polish lands with the Bohemian and Hungarian states. The choice of this political option was affected by trade contacts that representatives of this social group had with the European countries situated in the south of Poland.33 This faulty policy of burgher elites was also repeated later. When the political foundations of the Republic were emerging, the burghers were not interested in participating in the representative bodies which were dominated by the nobility, since they preferred to negotiate directly with the king in matters of concern to them.34 The structure of the burgher estate exerted certain influence upon the political weakness of the citydwellers. The fact remains that were no ethnically Polish burgher elites which would have sufficient financial potential to conduct effective policy.35 Moreover, in Poland, because of the decentralization of power and the enormous significance of the nobility there was a lack of substantial reasons for the alliance between the throne and the burghers. As Antoni Mączak maintains: In order to engage in the matters of the state, the cities required a strong impulse. According to the Western model, it might have been an alliance between burgher elites and the state apparatus. In most monarchies, this apparatus expanded and the rulers sought loyal as well professional officials. In Poland, the selfgovernment of the nobility did not offer satisfactory conditions: the state apparatus did not expand and there was no place in it for the plebeians.36 33

Bogucka and Samsonowicz (1986), p. 293. Wyczański (1985), p. 143. 35 Mączak (1993), p. 124. 36 Ibid., pp. 124-125. 34

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The decentralized political system of the Republic blocking the careers of burgher elites was, according to Mączak, a result of territorial vastness manifested in the time it took for information to be disseminated, and the privileges of the nobility which eliminated the rise of the king’s absolutism: It could be put as follows: the space to be controlled by the authority was too vast for the Republic to function efficiently as a state while preserving the privileges of the nobility at the same time. Actual decentralization was a consequence of many factors – connected with the political (privileges), technical (poor social communication) and finally social-economical (concentration of property). The authority of magnates understood as a counterbalance to the monarchy was in a certain sense a function of the territorial size of state.37

The domination of the nobility within the state, resulting from the weakness of the burghers was self-perpetuating in nature. The political authority controlled by the nobility was a tool of regulating the urban sphere of production. Such a state regulation was performed for the social interests of the nobility. The statisation of the urban sector limited the developmental potential of burghers, which undermined social balance between the nobility and the burghers. This subsequently restricted the room for maneuver of the political authority and led to yet more evident subordination of the state to the social interests of the nobility. As a result, the nobility (which not only had at its disposal the means of production but also subjected the state apparatus) entirely dominated the social life. The symptoms of anti-municipal policy were visible at the end of the 15 th century.38 In 1496, a ban was issued prohibiting the purchase of land by burghers, and burghers were removed from higher church and state offices: including land, starostwo, crown and court offices. In 1496 and 1509, after the exemption of the nobility from customs duties, the whole burden of paying duties was imposed on burghers, whereas the nobility could import and export any quantity of commodities duty-free. In 1538 there was a failed attempt at abolishing the guilds. At the same time, political authority opened the domestic market to foreign merchants. Until that moment, merchants could run businesses only as wholesalers. Simultaneously, in 1565, local burghers were forbidden to leave Poland in order to engage in foreign trade. However, the regulations were usually not observed. In mid-16th century, fixed price rates were introduced, set by the local wojewoda (provincial governor) for town products. It is worth mentioning that the price of crops, which were a 37 38

Mączak (1994), p. 142. Bogucka and Samsonowicz (1986), pp. 321-328.

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basic farm product at that time, was shaped by a free market. Another attempt to weaken the position of the cities was the so-called jurydyki. They were properties of the nobility within the cities which were outside municipal jurisdiction. Very often, the nobles settled craftsmen there to carry out production beyond guild regulations. The control over economic life by the state authority was exercised solely in the nobility’s interests. That social group also forced the burghers out of the most profitable activities. For example, in the 16th century ca. 70% of rafting down the Vistula river was controlled by the nobility. In the following centuries the degradation of the burghers intensified. In the 17 th and 18 th century, the burghers were allowed neither to take over any of remunerated state offices nor hold church functions. They were also deprived of the right to serve in the army, which was the only way of raising to the rank of the nobility. In the same period, the judicial autonomy and urban self-government were practically abolished. The history of the urban sphere in the Republic was, as Maria Bogucka and Henryk Samsonowicz maintain, completely incomparable with the development of cities in Western Europe: The main trait of the modern epoch was just a rapid emancipation of the burghers and their development which brought about fundamental changes in class, economic and hierarchical arrangements of contemporary societies. Against this background, the Republic was an exceptional terrain: the monopolization of social, economic, and political life by the nobility reached the level that was unparalleled anywhere else. Many researchers also point out that the particular situation of our cities and their inhabitants from the 16 th to the 18 th century was one of the main factors to have caused unfavorable peculiarities and a dangerous distortion of the whole Polish historical process in that epoch. 39

Social consequences of that developmental distortion led to the weakening of the state authority. As H. Samsonowicz remarks: Almost in all places where the urban population played the same or no less important role that the nobility in the life of the country, due to the privileges as and real financial opportunities, and antagonistic interests were involved among various professional groups, the king’s authority grew as a mediator of conflict between estates. There, strong modern states were also formed. . . . The weakness of any of social forces led to the undermining the position of the state. 40

Subordinating the political authority to the nobility allowed achieving two things simultaneously. Firstly, the nobility was able to impose restrictions on the social role of the burghers and the urban labor market. Secondly, the impairment of the burghers’ social position allowed the use 39 40

Ibid., p. 328. Samsonowicz (1970), p. 146.

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of tools of state regulation for maximizing the income in the agrarian sector of economy. The weakness of the burghers and urban production was essential for social relations between the state and nobility as well as for economic relations between the nobility and the peasantry. In the typical Western society, the urban sphere of the economy formed the alternative labor market. As long as a relatively high level of economic prosperity prevailed in that sector of economy, it forced out, in fear of the migration of the peasantry to the cities, a similar high level of prosperity in agriculture. The crisis of the urban sphere at the turn of the 15 th and 16th centuries in the Polish economy diminished the influence of the competitive labor market and allowed the nobility to impose more burdens on the peasantry. The declining economic situation of the peasantry was occurred in the organizational and institutional framework of the manorial-serf economy. However, the strengthening of serfdom was a prerequisite for the development of villein service. This in turn was possible as a result of subjecting the state law to the nobility. The Wiślicki Statute proclaimed by Casimir the Great imposed restrictions on leaving the village without the lord’s consent to just one peasant family annually. The Wielkopolski Statute imposed additional requirements of leaving the farm in good condition. As Leonid Żytkowicz points out, that was only the beginning of future serfdom. The development of serfdom should be linked with the increase in the villein service which at that period was insignificant since it amounted to a dozen or so days annually. Binding the peasant to his land was caused by the following situation: grand ownership systematically realized the deficit of the settler who would be indispensable for the management of the estate (let us remember that it was the period of rent not the manor economy). In a reversed situation, if there were no candidates to settle on the lord’s land, it would probably not come to the growth of glaebae adscriptio. It was in the interest of the feudal class to retain the settler in the country in order to secure the feudal lord’s income in the form of tributes and rents. 41

The next stage in serfdom imposition occurred in the second half of the 15 th century. The Piotrków Sejm in 1496 limited the right to leave the village, subject to the lord’s consent, to one family annually. The Sejm provisions from 1501-1511 additionally tightened those regulations and at the same time extended them to include children of peasants’ families. The regulations were supposed to protect the nobility against the desertion of peasants and the danger of depopulation in the country.42 41 42

Żytkowicz (1984), p. 6. Ibid., p. 20.

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That process was accompanied by another one, i.e., the development of the manorial economy, independent of the intensification of serfdom. It is assumed that the manors of the nobility descended from the ordinary knighthood’s own farms ( praedium militarae) which were intended for subsistence farming.43 With the rise of the monetary economy, the output of the nobility-owned manors shifted toward commercial production. The acreage of the manors was enlarged. The manors developed at the expense of fallow, uncultivated lands and buying out village officers’ manors ( folwarki sołtysie).44 Another way to expand a noble’s manor was through evictions (rugi), i.e., acquiring a better land farmed by the peasantry in exchange for lower-quality land.45 Summing up, in the 16th century, the landowner’s farm of the manor covered ca. 25% of arable land used by the village, which amounted to about 3.5 łany (ca. 60 ha). 46 The basic type of peasant services guaranteeing the demesne’s economic profitability was villein service, defined weekly or yearly.47 Kmiecie, i.e., peasants who owned a farm composed of 1 full łan performed their villein service aided by beasts of draught, whereas zagrodnicy, i.e., the landless peasants, performed it on foot.48 According to Andrzej Wyczański’s calculations, in the 16 th century manor of an average acreage that belonged to a nobleman the villein service was not the only kind of labor used on a farm. Additionally, hired labor was also used. According to the general balance of manpower, villein service accounted for ca. 41.2 % of workdays, whereas hired labor for 58.8%. The considerable share of hired labor resulted from the fact of hiring workmen for the usual period of 300 full days during the year, whereas peasants who possessed their own farms worked less, depending on the time of the year, from 1 to 4 days weekly. However, the larger the acreage of the manor and hence the number of villages, the more considerable was the share of the villein service. The profitability of manorial production relied upon the possibility of using this kind of compulsory labor. The peasants had to perform other kinds of labor apart from villein service. One of them was rent of 30 to 60 groszy paid from one peasant łan. Apart from pecuniary performances, the peasants were obliged to bring tributes in kind. Among them were sepy, equal to 1-6 bushels of 43

See e.g., Wyczański (1960), pp. 27-36; Rusiński (1956), p. 622; Grodecki (1947), p. 58. Wyczański (1960), pp. 50-54; Rutkowski (1956), pp. 65-81. 45 Rusiński (1977), p. 30. 46 Wyczański (1969), p. 83. 47 Wyczański (1960), pp. 95-101. 48 Ibid., pp. 136-138. 44

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oats or 1-2 bushels of rye or wheat from one peasant łan. Moreover, peasants gave certain amounts of eggs, poultry, and cheese. As well as permanent ones there were also occasional obligations such as: powaby, which were additional labor services at the time of extraordinary accumulation of work, or conveyances in a form of transporting various goods to specified places, most often a point of rafting crops or a mill. At the end of the 16th century a watch service, that is an obligation to keep watch over the manor at night, began to spread. Villein service was also the main burden imposed upon the peasantry; its scope in the course of 16 th century was gradually increasing. In 1520, the Bydgoszcz-Toruń Statutes set the service load at 1 day weekly per 1 łan of peasant land. The real increase in villein service that occurred later was not reflected in the provisions of the Sejm. Based on A. Wyczański’s calculations, it grew from 1 to 3-4 days a week in the course of the 16 th century. The nobility demesne was specializing in the cultivation of crops for sale. According A. Wyczański’s calculations, ca. 60% of the manorial production was sold on the market, both domestic and foreign.49 The demand for Polish crops had persisted since the late Middle Ages. From the 16 th century onwards, the impulse to develop exports was provided by the increase in the prices of agricultural goods on the European market.50 Between the first and eighth decade of the 16th century there the average price rise for four crops was 292%, compared with 166% for animal products and only 45% for craft products. 51 The reaction to that variation in prices was an export of Polish crops. Annual sales abroad amounted to ca. 100,000 tons of crops.52 That accounted for 2.5% of the total production of crops in Poland.53 The development of the manorial-serf economy based on villein service caused the decline in the productivity of peasant farms. That in turn brought about a growing naturalization of the peasant economy. Peasants, after performing their villein service, could produce livestock for their own living, and their beasts of draught which were used in field work. The decline in peasant production also limited their market contacts with the city. The peasants were not only a seller of their own goods but also purchasers of craftsmen’s articles. The dwindling peasant income undermined the foundations of domestic craft production. As a 49

Wyczański (1969), p. 60. Grodecki (1947), pp. 64-69. 51 Wyczański (1960), pp. 222 and 227-228. 52 Compare Żytkowicz (1985), pp. 65-66. 53 Wyczański (1978), p. 628. 50

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result, in the 17th and 18th centuries the urban sector of economy was reduced in a degree which was regulated by the demand of direct producers from the rural sphere of production. Let us now present visually the impact of factors in the Polish version of the cascade of developmental differentiation: demand for crops

shortage of manpower

development of the manorial-serf economy

weakness of cities

political domination of nobility

unequal density of population shifting class conflict from center to peripheries

geographical configuration of Polish State

foreign origin of municipal patriciate defective policy of municipal elities Fig. 2. The Polish variant of the cascade of developmental differentiation.

4. The Hungarian Variant of the Cascade In 13 th-century Hungary, the system of prince’s law existed, which then gradually disappeared in a result of granting immunities to the Church and feudal lords. At that time, the feudal class came into existence and Hungarian society transformed into the standard estate system. In the circumstances of the shortage of manpower (in the 10th century, the country was inhabited by ca. 1 million people), the feudal class sought to increase of income through the development of German colonization and settlement based on German Law. The economic growth in the 13th and 14 th centuries contributed to the birth of urban economy. However, the

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latter was confronted with the same barriers as in the rest of Central Europe, i.e., scarce population resulting in insufficient manpower, competition from Western European craft, and privileges of the nobility. The above-mentioned factors influenced the size of cities and the significance of the burghers in the Hungarian society. In the peak period of the growth of the urban economy, i.e., in the 15th century, there were ca. 30-35 cities in Hungary. By European standards, most of them were small. The largest, Buda, had a population of 8,000, compared with 4,000-5,000 in the next largest cities, i.e., Bratislava, Sopron, Koszyce, and Cluj. Generally speaking, in the above-mentioned period, citydwellers accounted for 3% of the Hungarian population.54 A characteristic trait of the development of cities in Hungary was the so-called oppidia. They were centers without the legal and political status of the city. Their dwellers were subordinated to feudal jurisdiction: they had to pay tributes to the owner of the oppidium and even perform villein service. People in those centers engaged partly in farming and partly in non-agricultural activities. Because oppidia had institutions such as schools, hospitals or churches, they fulfilled the social functions of cities. In that period, there were about 800 such centers, each with about 500-1000 residents.55 The development of Hungarian cities was also adversely affected by international economic situation: The large-trends of international economic development were not favorable to urban development in Hungary. The impetus of industrialization was already lost by the late fifteenth and early sixteenth century. The agrarian boom of the sixteenth century then definitively prevented Hungarian domestic trade and crafts from breaking the mold of conservative guild, since the international movement of prices permitted the import of much more textile and metal goods than before in returns for the same quantity of cattle or wine. During the agrarian boom the returns for agricultural producers were not invested in industry; actually, they were not invested in agriculture either. 56

Additional factors which hindered the development of cities were wars and the destruction that they caused. For example, after the loss of independence in 1526 and the division of the country into three parts, the biggest cities of Hungary: Buda and Pest were reduced to the role of Turkish military garrisons. In turn the weakness of the burghers contributed to strengthening the position of nobility in the Hungarian society. This social estate gradually 54

Bogucka (1985), p. 98. Ibid. 56 Zimányi (1987), p. 50. 55

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gained exclusive influence on political authority. After the period of strengthening the state authority in the course of the development of the Hungarian society, there was a visible trend that was typical Central European societies, namely an upward trend in the sphere of autonomy and political prerogatives of the nobility and a drop in authority regulations. In Hungary, that process already began in the early 13th century. In 1222, the king of Hungary Andrew II announced the Golden Bull. That document put the magnates on a par with ordinary knighthood, the latter social group making up 5% of the Hungarian society. By virtue of that law act, the so-called serwienci, i.e., the lower stratum of the knighthood were exempted from taxes and granted jurisdiction over the peasants. The Golden Bull also limited military service duty of that social group to defensive wars. Since that time, the Hungarian nobility could not be imprisoned without a court sentence. Moreover, capital the representatives of this estate could suffer capital punishment only subject to separate royal approval. The king was obliged to call estate assemblies once a year. If these provisions were contravened, the Golden Bull granted the nobility the right to resist the monarch. Those provisions were repeated in the golden bull issued in 1351 by Louis I. The social weakness of the burghers stemming from the economic underdevelopment of cities was reflected in a scarce participation of representatives of that social group in estate assemblies. Since 1445, the deputies of cities and specifically of eight urban centers: Buda, Pest, Bratislava, Sopron, Turnawa, Bardyjów, Preszow, and Koszyce began to participate in the Sejm debates, yet as early as in 1458, the role of city representatives was limited to hearing the resolutions and reporting the debates to its electorate. In the 16th century, urban delegates were collectively granted one vote.57 Another factor weakening the role of state authority was frequent changes of dynasties. For two hundred years since 1301, i.e., the date of extinction of the Arpad dynasty, the Hungarians were ruled by the kings from the Angevin, Luxemburgian, Hunyiady, and Jagiellonian dynasties. Each time, a new monarch had to confirm privileges which were granted by the predecessors before he could establish his position. The subordination of the state to the nobility let the latter use the instruments of state control in order to carry out their anti-municipal policy and limit the development of cities. In 1550, for example, the Hungarian nobility obtained the right to buy up agricultural produce from their serfs. In 1617, the nobility became exempted from customs duties and taxes, whereas a few years later, by using instruments of state 57

Russocki (1977), p. 77.

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authority, they subjected prices and wages to their own regulations. Another form of controlling the economy was the introduction of the nobility monopolies of inns, slaughterhouses, mills, and the exclusive use of waters and forests. In the 15 th century, the economic structure of Hungary was characterized by heavy concentration of property. Around 1440 the sixty biggest magnates owned ca. 40% of all villages. However, the feudal lords’ personal manors were small and the majority of their land was grown by landholders who paid the rent in cash and kind. On account of the small size of lords’ farms, serfdom was of little importance in the overall structure of peasant obligations in the 15th century, as it amounted only to 1-2 days annually. Relatively more important was rent in kind. Peasants were obliged to supply certain quantities of bread, cheese, butter, eggs, poultry, and all kinds of meat from 2 to 5 times a year. Apart from food, the rural population had to deliver tributes in crops and wine. In 1351, obligations imposed on rural farms increased, because peasants had to exact additional tributes in crops: the so-called ninthe (on analogy to the tithe), i.e., a ninth of the harvested crops. During that period, the most significant element in the structure of peasant obligations was cash rent. The rent was paid by villages founded pursuant to German Law. The average amount of rent was equal at that time to 1-1.5 florin per one adult male peasant. In the second half of the 15 th century, burdens imposed on the rural population increased as a result of introducing another tax, the so-called census. It was paid in 2-5 installments and the rate depended on the number of livestock. The tax was almost as significant as the remaining pecuniary performances. In the second part of the 15 th century, landowners imposed on the peasantry a number of additional, extraordinary payments. They were levied for the use of forests, meadows, and waters. Since the end of the 14 th century, the growing obligations imposed on the peasantry caused their economic situation to deteriorate gradually. That process was accompanied by limiting the freedom to leave the village. At the end of the 15th century, by virtue of the state laws issued in 1486 and reaffirmed in 1496, peasants could not leave the village without the lord’s prior consent. In the second half of the 15th century, the imposition of serfdom and increase of economic burdens gave rise to a series of peasant revolts in the country.58 One of such these events was the peasants’ uprising in the south of Transylvania, in the 1437-38. Within a short period, it was supported by pauperized burghers and small nobility. Very soon, the peasant revolt 58

Pach (1966), pp. 1-14.

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transformed into a military confrontation, in which the insurgents originally won the victory in the battle at Des. That fact forced the ruling camp to sign a treaty in Kolozsmontar. However, after the burghers and petty the nobility passed over to the king’s camp, the peasant insurgents were left alone. Finally, the uprising ended with the defeat at Kolozsvar. The result of the unsuccessful peasant revolt was the limitation of peasants’ personal freedom and the revocation of a part of privileges and rights of the cities which supported the Transylvanian uprising. The next peasant revolt was the Dózsa’s uprising.59 It started in 1514 when peasant militias mobilized for the expedition against the Turks refused to be sent home and rose in open revolt. The rebels demanded the abolition of serfdom and class differences, a division of land and revoking nobility jurisdiction. The rebellion which was soon joined by the burghers transformed into military confrontation. The defeat at Temeszwar in 1514 ended the revolt. After suppressing the rebellion, the authorities resorted to mass terror, murdering about 50,000 rebels, with the peasant leader Dózsa burnt on a wooden throne. Quelling the revolt was followed by codifying a body of legislation termed the Tripartitum, which strengthened the authority of the nobility over peasantry. Since that moment, peasants were not allowed to leave their village freely and were forbidden to carry arms. They also had to pay damages. That social group was denied opportunities of social advancement because the peasants could not hold high ranking church offices. The Tripartitum imposed the obligation to pay additional tax in the amount of one florin and perform one day of villein service.60 Together with the development of manorial-serf economy, the villein service became the basic duty of the peasantry. In the course of the 16th century, it grew from 1 day to 3-4 days a week. In the same century the acreage of manorial land increased from 10% to 40%. Another form of economic exploitation was monopolies established by the Hungarian nobility. In the 16 th century, the nobility in Hungary established the exclusive right to own inns, slaughterhouses, to purchase the mandatory quota of wine and crops from the peasantry, the right to fish and collect acorns in the woods (pigs were fed on acorns). In that period they also introduced the compulsory purchase of alcohol and others goods such as salt in lord’s inns and the grinding crops in lord’s mills.61

59

See Demel (1986), pp. 145-147; Felczak (1983), pp. 111-112; Prodan (1990), pp. 1-18; Reychman (1963), p. 26; Szekely (1960), pp. 634-649. 60 Király (1975), p. 269. 61 Makkai (1980), p. 11; Komoroczy (1960), p. 167.

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The manorial-serf economy in Hungary developed in the period of the collapse of the medieval trade exchange, of which luxury goods were staple commodities, and the maturing of trade exchange characteristic of modern times. The main objects of that exchange were goods of mass consumption. 62 The Hungarian economy integrated into a new structure of international trade. The demand for agricultural products was one of the factors which accelerated the transformation of the agricultural system of that state.63 However, unlike in Poland, crops did not play an important role in Hungarian exports.64 This was due to the lack of convenient communication tracks (river passages and seaways), which precluded sending huge amounts of crops abroad. 65 Hungary sold wine and cattle. Since the half of the 14th century, the country was a big exporter of cattle. It was sold to Bohemia, Austria, southern Germany, and northern Italy. On average (16th -17 th century), from 100,000 to 200,000 heads of cattle were exported annually, which at that time accounted for 2.5-5% of the overall production of cattle. Another export article was wine. In 1550-1650, ca. 100,000 hl of wine (about 10-15% of domestic production) was sent abroad. Out of the total value of Hungarian exports in the 16th and 17 th century, oxen accounted for ca. 26%, wine for 8.1%, crops for 15.2%, wool for 11%, and minerals for 39% of the sale value. 66 The imports were highly processed industrial articles, textiles and luxury goods. The event that disrupted the development of the country was the Turkish invasion in 1526. As a consequence, the southern part of Hungary was under the rule of the Habsburgs for over 100 years. One third of the former kingdom of Hungary, the principality of Transylvania, retained independence. After the defeat of Turkey at Vienna in 1687-99 all lands of St. Stephan’s crown found themselves under the new authority of the Habsburgs. The Turkish slavery was a period of war destruction, considerable decline of the population and a collapse of the urban sector of the economy. In that sense, the Turkish occupation was another factor in the Hungarian variant of the cascade of European differentiation which contributed to the developmental distinctiveness of that society. One may present the Hungarian variant of the cascade of European differentiation in the graphic form: 62

Pach (1970), pp. 218-219. Zimányi (1987), p. 30. 64 Makkai (1980), p. 13; Pach (1970), p. 251. 65 Pach (1980), p. 251. 66 Kiss (1985), pp. 88-96. 63

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demand for agricultural products

shortage of manpower

development of the manorial-serf economy

weakness of cities

political domination of nobility

Turkish occupation

frequent changes of dynasties

subordination to Habsburgs

Fig. 3. The Hungarian variant of the cascade of developmental differentiation.

5. The Bohemian Variant of the Cascade In the 13 th century, the Bohemian system of prince’s law gradually disappeared as a result of granting immunities to feudal lords and the Church. The feudal class that emerged from that process strove to raise their income through the development of settlement and colonization based on German Law. In comparison with other countries in Central Europe, Bohemia was characterized by a slightly larger population, which rose substantially as a result of intensive German colonization. Hence the development of the urban sphere was confronted in that country with relatively weaker barriers than in Poland and Hungary. The percentage of people who lived in the cities was higher than in the remaining Central European countries, as it accounted for about 20% of the population. The largest city in Central Europe was Prague, with 30,000-40,000 inhabitants. In other Bohemian cities, the population ranged from 5,000 to 10,000 each.67 Such strength of Bohemian burghers was reflected in the newly forming estate system. Delegates of royal 67

Bogucka (1985), pp. 98 and 100.

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cities (ca. 30) took part in the Sejm and assemblies of the local nobility as early as in the 15th century. A strong position of the cities influenced the situation in the rural sector of the economy, limiting feudal control over the peasantry: The sociopolitical significance of Czech towns contributed to the state of affairs whereby it was more difficult to free vassals because the towns strengthened by their gains during the Hussite revolution, felt the need for workers and encouraged them both to settle in the towns and to learn a craft, and even to complete university studies. The diet passed decrees insisting that the towns should returns vassals to their masters, when they had left without permission; but in fact it was impossible to put these decrees into effect and to prevent the natural flow of the population from the villages to the towns.68

At the turn of 15th and 16 th centuries, a sign of political domination of the nobility was the attempt to limit political privileges of the burghers while devising new legislation, the so-called Vladislaus Land Statutes. The reaction of the burghers was the formation of the league included 32 cities. In consequence of municipal protests, the nobility granted Bohemian burghers full representation in estate assemblies in the socalled Świętowacławski Agreement of 1517. Since the direct limitation of burghers’ rights by the nobility was impossible, though tendencies of that kind could be observed as early as the turn of the 15th and 16th centuries, the nobility sought other ways to undermine the social position of the burghers. One of them was the foundation of private towns and villages by landowners. The inhabitants of those centers did not enjoy full autonomy though they fulfilled all economic functions of a town. From 1434 to 1620 almost 40 towns and 150 villages of the nobility came into existence. 69 That led to an autarchy of the rural economy. The nobility closed the borders of its manors to craft products manufactured in royal cities. In exchange for this, it forced its serfs to buy products manufactured in private towns. It was where the trade turnover concentrated and most profits from it, in the form of customs duties, tolls, etc., were obtained by the owners of towns. The prospects for the development of the urban sphere of production were diminished after the rural market was closed to town products by administrative methods. In consequence, it led to the weakening of burghers’ social position. The relative balance of influences among main social forces, i.e., the burghers, the nobility and the political authority, influenced the situation of the peasantry. Though in 1487 the Bohemian Parliament issued an act 68 69

Macek (1982), p. 21. Mika (1960), p. 15.

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limiting the emigration of the peasantry, this decision of the Parliament was not put into practice. In the 15th century and most of the 16th century, the population in the country was still personally free and the burden of the villein service was not heavier than 12 days a year. The factor responsible for undermining the balance between the nobility and the burghers as well as for the accelerating the differentiation of the Bohemian course of development was the imposition of the Habsburg rule over the Bohemian society. In the 15th century, after the death of George of Podiebrad, Bohemia and Hungary were ruled jointly by king Louis Jagiellonian. After his death in the battle at Mohacz in 1526, the rule over Bohemia was transferred to Ferdinand I Habsburg. In this way, the lands of St. Vaclav’s crown were incorporated into the Habsburg empire. The Habsburg rule meant strengthening the prerogatives of the central authority, the growth of fiscal stringency and the limitation of estate privileges, both for the nobility and burghers. In 1546-47, during the war of Ferdinand I with the Schmalkalden Union, the uprising of Bohemian estates against the Habsburgs broke out. The pretext for the outbreak of the uprising was the levy in mass summoned by the Emperor without prior consent of the Sejm, which was supposed to be used in the war in Germany. Both burghers and the nobility participated in that rebellion. The insurgents refused to take part in the war in Germany and established their own government with armed forces. However, after the victory over the Schmalkalden Union, Ferdinand I suppressed the revolt of the Bohemian estates. In 1547, the sovereign struck a compromise with the nobility but at the same time persecuted the burghers. As a consequence of the repressive measures the solidarity within the Bohemia was broken. After futile attempts to resist the authority of the Habsburgs confiscated military equipment belonged to the cities and forbade burghers to carry arms. The repression of the central authority undermined the economic privileges of the burghers: cities were deprived of most of the estates, and burghers were burdened with heavy taxes. The Habsburgs imposed restrictions on the autonomy of Bohemian towns through revoking urban and guild privileges. City deputies were deprived of the right to participate in debates during the estate assemblies. From that moment, matters of public order in cities were to be controlled by royal police officers and royal clerks who supervised guild organizations. By establishing the national court of appeal in Prague in 1548, Emperor Ferdinand I abolished the judicial autonomy of the burghers.70 70

Husa (1967), pp. 96-98.

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A consequence of undermining the social balance between the two estates was the deterioration of situation of the peasantry in the second half of the 16 th century. During that period, the transformation of the nobility demesne began. Also, in the second half of the 16 th century, gradual concentration of land began: there were more and more manors with an area from 5 to 10 łans. 71 In the 16th-century Bohemia, the production of crops for export was not of great importance.72 Producing for the domestic market was more important. The basic types of production that the nobility manors engaged in included fishing, beer brewing, and sheep breeding. Landowners established a number of craft works: mills, brickyards, sawmills, etc. Due to the rights granted to the nobility by the political authorities, the privileged estate secured, for example, the monopoly for grinding crops or the sale of beer to its subjects. In the same period, the plight of the peasantry steadily worsened. Village residents faced additional charges for the use of meadows and forests, fishing and the export of goods for sale to cities. In the first half of the 16th century, villein service was still insubstantial: it amounted 12 days per year maximum, and the average was 6 days.73 However, in the second half of the 16 th century it was lengthened to several dozen days annually. Apart from compulsory villein service, the nobility burdened rural population with an obligation to perform all kinds of occasional work for the manors. In 1575, the liberty to seek hired labor by landless peasants and small holders was limited to four weeks annually.74 That course of social events was possible due to the weaker position of burghers and the compromise reached by the Habsburgs with the Bohemian nobility. As early as at the end of the 16th century, the gradual deterioration of the economic situation of the peasantry bred first, local signs of resistance. In 1575, there was unrest in the vicinity of Przybram and Rozmital. A year later, peasants from Mlada Bolesław revolted. At the turn of the 16 th and 17th centuries a number of local but sustained conflicts broke out in the manors: Skaly at Broumow (1592-1618), Hukwaldach (1588-1617), and Jabłonne (1609-1610). The next factor in the Bohemian variant of the cascade of European differentiation, exerting the greatest influence on the developmental course of the country, were the consequences of the failed anti-Habsburg uprising and the Thirty Years’ War (1618-1648). In 1618, another antiHabsburg uprising broke out, in which united forces of burghers and the 71

Mika (1960), pp. 16-17. Sadova (1960), p. 37. 73 Macek (1982), p. 19; Špiesz (1969), p. 43. 74 Heck and Orzechowski (1969), p. 147. 72

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nobility took part once again. After the defeat at Biała Góra (1620), in which about 21,000 Bohemian nobles were killed, the Habsburgs used mass repression against the mutinous states, including the confiscation of about three fourths of nobility estates. The manors were distributed among the population that was loyal to the political authority, mainly Germans, Italians, Frenchmen, and Walloons.75 The effect of the resulting change in the ethnic make-up of the nobility was that they no longer shared the ethnic awareness with the peasantry. This contributed to a growing exploitation of the rural sector of production. William E. Wright describes the economic consequences of Biała Góra as follows: The old Bohemian aristocracy which had accepted the restraints of custom and law and had exhibited a certain degree of paternalism in their relation with the peasant were decimated by exile and confiscation of property after the imperial victories. A new aristocracy replaced the old, took possession of much of the landed property of Bohemia and therewith took control also of a large segment of the Bohemian peasant population. These new men were mostly foreigners and conquerors being rewarded for their services in defeating the “heretics” of Bohemia. They felt in no ways bound by the ancient and paternalistic restraints or the ameliorating customs and laws which tempered the old lords actions towards the peasants. 76

Apart from the change in the ethnic composition of the nobility, another result of both anti-Habsburg uprising and military operations was the vast war damage. In Bohemia, 80 towns and 813 villages were devastated and in Moravia 22 towns and 333 villages were destroyed.77 The people of Bohemia also suffered catastrophic losses: the population of Bohemia fell from 1.7 million (1618) to 0.9 million (1648), which represented a drop of 40%. 78 War damage undermined the development of the urban sphere. Thus, the alternative sector of the economy disappeared, though its presence somehow tempered the growth in the exploitation of the rural sector of production. The confiscation of estates which were the property of the Bohemian nobility thus helped to remove the barriers to a firm alliance between the political authority and grand ownership. The reason for that was the withdrawal of aristocracy from any attempts to control actions of the royal authority in the political sphere. In return, they earned the guarantees and support of political authority in an almost unlimited exploitation of the peasantry. The Thirty Years’ War, affecting the change in social relations among main classes

75

Ibid., p. 161. Wright (1975), p. 246. 77 Heck and Orzechowski (1969), p. 162. 78 Klima (1979), p. 52. 76

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in the Bohemian society was a decisive point in the history of Bohemia.79 One of the consequences of the war damage was drastic shortage of manpower, which was: counterbalanced by imposing an increased burden of villein service on serfs. Before the defeat at Biała Góra, the villeins were obliged to serve for only a few days annually, whereas after the Thirty Years’ War the rise in villein duty was incomparable. Landowners introduced almost day long villein work and, to make matters worse, for a longer part of the year. Thus, the peasants cultivated their own land at nights, on Sundays and holidays. Beside the mandatory villein work they had to cope with the obligations to pay rent and tributes. 80

Another result of the decrease of rural population was the increase in uncultivated land, which facilitated the concentration of land by nobles and founding demesnes. Such was the picture of the Bohemian society in the mid-17th century. War damage largely devastated the urban economy. Landowners, whose ethnic origins were different from the remaining part of the Bohemian society, could easily call for the assistance of the state authority. According to Anton Klima: this fundamental economic relationship [serfdom; footnote by K.B.] was reinforced and strengthened by the fact that, here as elsewhere, the serf was also subject in political and legal maters to the jurisdiction of his lord, who was thus empowered to coerce and constrain the serf as and when circumstances required. 81

After 1620, villein service was increased to 3 days per week. That considerable increase in exploitation provoked an outbreak of antiHabsburg uprising of peasants which was directed against the authority and ownership at the same time. The uprising continued from 1626 to 1628 in Bohemia, Moravia, and Silesia. The unrest was suppressed by the authorities. After the defeat of the anti-Habsburg uprising the political authority and the allied ownership initiated the “Land Arrangements”: in 1627 in Bohemia, in 1628 in Moravia, and in 1652 in Silesia. In line with those arrangements, serfs could not leave their village without the prior consent of the lord. The subjects could not contract marriages independently, i.e., without the approval of the village owner. Serfdom was also imposed upon peasant children. They were forbidden to train in craft and change the profession inherited after their parents. A principle was enforced under which children born of woman serfs automatically became serfs of the same owner. The limitation of peasants’ personal liberty was accompanied by the growth in the villein service to 4 days a 79

Ibid., p. 50. Husa (1967), p. 115; see also Klima (1979), pp. 50-51. 81 Klima (1979), p. 51. 80

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week. Moreover, peasants were obliged to pay taxes to the state and church. The overall burdens imposed on peasants in the 17 th century were 60% of gross income. 82 Increasing exploitation was also accompanied by political pressure which was manifested, e.g., very harsh penalties for insubordination: The lord had the right to punish serfs for desertion, for heresy and even poaching, with the death penalty. For lesser offenses or default of duties in relation to the landowner they used flogging and tortures, burnt out shameful marks, put in a pillory and tormented in other ways. The extent of punishment depended solely upon the feudal lord or his steward. 83

In the second half of the 17th century, the manorial-serf economy finally assumed mature shape in the Bohemian society (see Figure 4). Thirty Years’ War

demand for agricultural products

shortage of manpower

development of the manorial-serf economy

change of national composition of nobility

Weakness of cities

political domination of nobility

subordination to Habsburgs

Thirty Years’ War

Fig. 4. The Bohemian variant of the cascade of developmental differentiation.

This type of Bohemian economy was crucial in defining the developmental distinctiveness of that society in the next centuries.

82 83

Heck and Orzechowski (1969), p. 166. Husa (1967), pp. 116-117.

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6. Summary Let us briefly sum up our considerations. The factor which initiated the process of the cascade growth was the shortage of manpower. In the initial stage, namely until Central European nobility was managed to resort to instruments of state repression, that factor improved the situation of the peasantry. Paradoxically, an economic betterment of the situation in the country, as a result of colonization based on German Law, limited the scope of peasant migration to towns. Consequently, the cities in Central Europe were less numerous than in Western Europe. That led to a weaker development of the urban sphere and undermined the social balance between the burghers and the nobility. As long as the nobility was not able to dominate political and social life of Central European societies, the economic development of the cities and the peasantry could continue unobstructed. By this, in the course of the 15 th and 16th century, the nobility was able to subordinate the state authority to their interests. The basic feature of political systems in Hungary, Bohemia and Poland was the domination of the estate of nobles in parliamentary institutions. The political advantage of the nobility allowed limiting the development of towns, aggravating serfdom, and founding own demesnes. The increase in economic exploitation occurred within the institutionalized frame of the manorial-serf economy. Those processes were accompanied by the demand for crops from Western Europe. The above-mentioned factors were in operation in each of Central European societies discussed above. However, the developmental course taken by each of them was marked by some specific factors. In the case of Poland, these were, e.g., the defective strategy of burgher elites limiting the influence of towns upon state matters. In Bohemian case, it was the domination of the Habsburgs and the outcome of the Thirty Years’ War. In Hungary, the specific factors were Turkish occupation and frequent changes of dynasties, etc. The impact of the core factors and accidental factors brought about further differentiation of developmental roads of each of the societies investigated, but located within the Central European course of development. Adam Mickiewicz University Department of Philosophy ul. Szamarzewskiego 89 C 60-569 Poznań, Poland e-mail: [email protected]

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Jerzy Topolski THE ECONOMIC MODEL OF THE WIELKOPOLSKA REGION IN THE 18 th CENTURY

1. Methodological Premises The problems that I would like to analyze here are connected not only with the economic history of Wielkopolska, but they can also serve as a springboard for discussing some issues of a more general character concerning the relationship between the regional history and the history of the nation and even history of the world. Needless to say, the concept of the historical region is one of the basic theoretical concepts that are indispensable for regional research. Historians use the concept fairly frequently. However, while doing so, their main objective is generally to obtain some immediate research effect, namely to divide a given territory into smaller territorial units distinguished that are according to some point of view. Such a division is of considerable significance for all sort of synthetic work in history as it provides a structuring that is indispensable for all sorts of syntheses. The concept of the historical region can be also viewed, however, as a theoretical tool which makes it easier to deal with a larger body of problems, e.g., with the dialectical analysis of human actions in the past and the effects of such actions that together constitute the historical process. In order to obtain such a tool one needs to construct a theory of the historical region, or in other words, prepare some coherent set of theses (that are more or less idealizing in nature) concerning the problems of the structure of human actions and social mentality that have been as yet only superficially analyzed. It seems that until we make an attempt to construct such a theory, which lends itself relatively easy to the procedure of concretization, the chances of regional research results being granted their due position in the synthetic panorama of national and supranational history will be very poor indeed. The fundamental divide

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 269-285. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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between regional and synthetic research will thus persist. What is the present situation like in this respect? How are syntheses of larger regions written? One could point to the two (ideal) types of procedures and a number of stages of research or research steps. The first type of preparing a synthetic work is the method which could be described as inductive. In this case, the detailed historical material is divided formally according to some criteria (which are most commonly chronological, territorial, and factual). This procedure is the decisive factor determining the structure of the synthesis. Needless to say, in this case we only obtain a work which merely appears to be a synthesis. The second method of preparing syntheses can be termed theorybased. The point of departure for such a synthesizing procedure is found in some general knowledge that may be better or worse, more or less precise, and more or less true. The knowledge allows uniting the detailed material in a way which is not formalistic but which, in terms of researcher’s intentions, reflects the real historical process in its structure and dynamics. It is obvious that such knowledge is idealizing (abstract) in nature (to a smaller or larger extent). Clearly, in most cases the historian does not realize which specific procedure she/he applies in his/her research practice (because she/he does not carry out a relevant methodological analysis). His/her general knowledge is often a conglomerate of various ideas resulting from his/her reading, his/her own original thinking and personal experience (everyday life). By no means do we deal here in practice with a procedure that is purely inductive in nature. In scholarly research we usually aim at the latter type of synthesis. Naturally, the success or failure of our work depends on our repertoire of theoretical tools. But it is not sufficient if we are directed only by a number of basic principles of the theory of historical materialism and forget that (as any set of general theses) the latter requires concretization in each case and in many stages. One usually prepares syntheses (of national history) by applying some general vision of the historical process in the territory which is the subject of research, or in other words, some model which is more or less isomorphic with respect to historical reality. Examples taken from various parts of the territory in question, or from various regions, are inserted into that model in a more or less successful way. The proportions between those “inserted” examples depend on the researcher’s interests and on how advanced research on this or that region. This method can be called “examplebased.” In practice, while focusing of necessity on some general problems affecting the whole territory (e.g., issues of national politics),

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the method leaves out of the scope of the synthesis the processes found at the regional level, i.e., a substantial part of economic, social, and cultural processes. It is in this way that The History of Poland of the Polish Academy of Sciences was prepared (which was inevitable in this case due to the current state of research). Other glaring examples of such a procedure can be found in numerous syntheses of European history, e.g., those written Western Europe in which the both the general idea of the historical process and the choice of examples almost completely ignores the countries of Central and Eastern Europe. In our opinion, the theory of the historical region should be a part of the repertoire of theoretical tools that are indispensable for constructing modern syntheses which could be described as synthetic in the full sense of the word. Clearly, such a theory is a basic prerequisite for developing regional history in the proper sense of the term, i.e., history which develops both the knowledge about the regions and general, synthetic history. Based on a theory, one can analyze factual material so as to attempt to distinguish specific historical regions and then to attempt to reconstruct the models of various aspects of the historical process (e.g., economic development). In order to clarify our point, we must refer to some general problems of the historical process. If we choose as our point of departure the assertion that history is created by people, and that the historical process is a result of actions of masses of people, we are bound to reach the conclusion that the reconstruction and explanation of human actions (of individuals and groups) is central to the problem of historical research. Needless to say, these actions clearly differ from one another and it is up to the historian to describe and explain such differences (and similarities). We should bear in mind that the term ‘human actions’ encompasses the following constituent elements: firstly, the aim of the action (which may be formulated in various ways); secondly, the knowledge about the conditions of the action (because these conditions do not affect the actions in question directly; instead, they do so indirectly through the knowledge about these conditions that the acting subject has; thirdly, the accepted social norms, i.e., the hierarchy of values (underscoring the fact that some people prefer some aims and other people quite different ones). In the course of simultaneous existence under the given conditions (to which external influences also contribute), similar structures of actions emerge, i.e., the consciousness of the members of a given community is permeated by some common knowledge or common way of perceiving reality (these being obviously affected by social conflicts, but as this is

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quite another matter we are not going to deal with it here in any detail). Consequently, some common ways of ascribing value to things and some common aims of actions arise. The structures of action determining a specific course of the historical process develop within a given territorial (geographical) framework. From the point of view of variety of actions these conditions are only one of many variants, and they are not, as a rule, strictly distinctive. The territorial framework involves the territory of a given nation or state, the so-called small social system (e.g., a village or town), and some other territories of various sorts. Sometimes, the historical region is described as occupying an intermediate position between such structures as a state on the one hand, and a village or a town on the other. This would be a historical region in the narrower sense of the term. The notion is highly applicable in the writings of historians. Yet for our present purposes, the definition of the historical region (or its explication, if we use a less definite term) must be broader. Thus, we posit the following explication: a historical region is a specific territory, inhabited by a population that is bound by the common (shorter or longer) history which is distinct (in various respects) from the history of other territorial and population units of such kind. Consequently, a historical region is some definite (more or less self-contained) structural system, characterized by it own historical distinctiveness (and sometimes distinct administrative borders), which thus lends itself to systematic research. In other words – it is some economic, social, political, administrative, cultural and psychological system (its constituent elements carrying different weight in various periods), which can be distinguished within the broader historical framework. The historical region is connected principally with the problems of human activity and not with the problems of geography. The former and the latter criteria often overlap, which does not make the researcher’s task easier. While acting, the inhabitants of a historical region take into account their knowledge about the entirety of conditions in which they act. Such knowledge also includes (to a large extent) specific historical consciousness. Importantly, the historical region is an ideal system (the so-called idealization). This is because in reality the similarity or distinctiveness of history is a gradual factor (reflecting the dynamics of the historical process). Thus, one can naturally speak of a kind of system of historical regions, within which the regions of a lower grade make up regions of a higher grade. Our reasoning thus implies that we can recognize as a historical region (to a smaller of larger extent), e.g., some province of some larger

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territory (e.g., Wielkopolska) that is historically distinctive to a greater or lesser degree, a state or some even larger region. A state is not always the same as a historical region. Thus, for example, following the partitions of Poland half of the territory of the Prussian state was made up of Polish lands, and the territory did not constitute a historical region. However, within the borders of this state Wielkopolska was no doubt a historical region (later to be partitioned after 1815). Within the borders of the Russian empire, the Kingdom of Poland was a historical region, but the empire did not become a higher-order region for the Kingdom. Generally, to continue using this example, despite the absence of the Polish state in the period of partitions, there existed some kind of higher-order region encompassing all the three partitions. It was made up of the territories which were inhabited by the Polish people continuing to create its own history as vigorously as ever. The notion of the historical region thus overlaps in different ways with the notions of the nation, state and province. Human history is a constant dynamic process of the creation, demise and transformation of regions. Historical regions exist in so far as one can distinguish the differences in the structures of behavior of the groups of people inhabiting various territories. 2. The Historical Region of Wielkopolska Another body of general questions concerning regional history and its relationships with general history is connected with the problem of the method to be applied in regional research. Naturally, by regional research we mean a conscious pursuit of some synthetic goals rather than research limited by the borders of a given region. The general requirements for such research must be similar to the previously mentioned requirements for syntheses in the proper sense of the term. Its point of departure must be the general theory of the historical process (i.e., ultimately in the theory of human actions), which constitutes a research directive for reconstructing, obviously based on detailed factual material, fundamental structural and dynamic characteristics of a given region or, in other words, constructing some model which is of necessity simplified but which focuses on the basic relationships of the complex regional reality which we are reconstructing. It is only after constructing such a model, which is often to a large extent hypothetical, that one can begin the procedure of concretizing and simultaneously verifying it. Even regional research of the minutest scope should be based on such a model if the historian wants to be aware which

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fragment of the model she/he concretizes and verifies. The same holds also true with respect to general history, whose model can only be constructed when we have the regional models at our disposal. Clearly, the term model is used in only one of its many meanings for our present purposes. In this paper, we will attempt to reconstruct the basic characteristics of the economy of one of the historical regions of Poland, i.e., Wielkopolska in the second half of the 18th century, which will focus our further analysis on economic problems. Before that, however, let us turn our attention briefly to some general characteristics of the region in all their aspects. The constituent elements of the historical distinctiveness of this territory (which substantiates the use of the term ‘historical region’ with reference to Wielkopolska) as compared with all other historical regions of Poland, include mainly the following (the list being limited to the period before the partitions): (i) the significant role in founding the Polish state, (ii) the immediate proximity to the territories captured by the Germans, (iii) the proximity of Silesia and the relations with Silesia, (iv) the proximity of (eastern and western) Pomerania and the relations with Pomerania, (v) the distinctiveness of the social and economic structure and the peculiar characteristics of the political activities and public mentality which are connected with that structure as well as with other factors mentioned earlier, (vi) the geographical features distinguishing Wielkopolska from neighboring areas, (vii) the administrative borders separating Wielkopolska from other regions. Without getting involved in a detailed analysis of these aspects in our further reasoning, we should emphasize the necessity for a dynamic approach to these specific regional characteristics, which, as any human activity, are susceptible to change. For example, the first of the fundamental factors had real significance principally in the early medieval period, later to persist only as an important constituent element of the Wielkopolska residents. This factor, i.e., the role played in founding the Polish state, made a historical region out of a territory that was almost exclusively geographical in nature in antiquity. Thus, in some respects, it imparted to Wielkopolska a measure of distinctiveness within the emerging structure of the state. In the course of later transformations,

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the economic, social, political and cultural processes which had occurred in this territory in antiquity contributed to the emergence of a well-knit tribal organism which later began to integrate other Polish lands around this germ of a state. The distinctive features of Wielkopolska’s economic and social structure, and thereby of the structure which determined human decisions and strategies of human actions were formed only gradually over centuries, becoming the most conspicuous in the period immediately preceding the partitions. In the centuries which followed the emergence of the state, the Wielkopolska economy continued to develop relatively fast. Urbanization became more rapid and trade increased. The incomes of burghers and peasantry grew. The nobility, whose income from the ancient land rents and their role as a combat force had dwindled, became economically active and devoted more attention to their manors. These manors were not, however, of the so-called expansionist type, i.e., they were not manors connected with foreign markets. The manor type that was dominant in Wielkopolska was the so-called autonomous model (i.e., one linked with the domestic market). The model was less disadvantageous for the local economy than the expansionist model, as the latter imposed no need for the existence of towns. Consequently, the process of economic regression which became characteristic of the country as a whole was less pronounced in Wielkopolska than in other Polish lands. The process of urbanization continued uninterrupted, and the area of land brought under cultivation (the second phase of intensive settlement) increased. The neighboring areas of Brandenburg increasingly lagged behind Wielkopolska and this was also true with respect to western and eastern Pomerania. At the same time, Wielkopolska caught up with Silesia, and in the 18 th century became the most industrialized of all Polish lands. 3. The Essential Mechanisms of the Model Reconstructing the essential features of the Wielkopolska economy (i.e., the economic model of Wielkopolska as one of the characteristics of the historical region of Wielkopolska) should provide us with an overall picture of the economic mechanism of the region. In line with the theses of the theory of the historical region specified above, the economy (the economic mechanism) in this model should be considered as a dialectic relationship between economic activities of people (and human groups)

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and mass consequences of their action (economic processes). The subjective and objective elements of history are thereby connected. While constructing a model of a specific aspect of the historical process (understood as an effect of human actions) one should ask first and foremost about the forces which set this model into motion or, in other words, about the factors motivating the human activity in this model. The activity can lead to a more or less pronounced transformation of the whole model (i.e., slower of faster transformation of reality). The most essential motive of human activity is the willingness to satisfy needs (obviously, not only material ones). The spectrum of those needs is, needless to say, very different depending on time and place. On the other hand, specific needs are assigned various values within various concepts of historical process. We assume that the aim of economic activity is to obtain a definite amount of material goods (or money) that is necessary to satisfy the needs proper for a given place, time and social group or class (naturally, only those which can be satisfied directly or indirectly as a result of economic activity in given conditions). Hence, keen as we are to discover the driving forces behind the (economic) model, we must first and foremost inquire about the situation in terms of the needs (satisfied indirectly or directly by economic activity) as well as about the level and dynamics of income of particular classes (and social groups). Generally, the level of economic activity (which can be defined as the increase in the number of decisions of general-economic character) of individuals and groups EA (in the period at hand) can be said to be a function of the relation of the range of needs N to the income achieved I: N ∆EA = f — I Subject to relevant assumptions, this function could be quantified. While examining the economic processes one generally does not pose such questions, as a point of departure, because this would eliminate the possibility of finding more adequate explanations. In his time, Jan Rutkowski was close to such an approach, pointing to the division of income as a point at which it is possible to describe the past economic processes in a synthetic way. Witold Kula, disagreeing with Rutkowski’s approach, ascribed this role to the factor of needs. The relationship presented above bears out the inseparability of both points of view. At present, because of the current state of research, we are not very well prepared to relate economic activity to the knowledge about the spectrum of needs in a given social group that prevails (as a social ideal)

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and to the knowledge about this group’s income. This is also true with respect to Wielkopolska. One can only say (using the latest, partly unpublished results of research conducted by art historians, historians of material culture and other areas of culture) that the spectrum of needs of nobles, burghers and peasants which had historically evolved in Wielkopolska was clearly broadening in the 18 th century. Some interesting studies of the material culture of Poznań burghers (e.g., M. Kusa’s unpublished work) and the nobility of Wielkopolska (in particular, Z. Ostrowska-Kębłowska’s studies) have repeatedly demonstrated the existence of the trends whereby the latest Western European tendencies and fashions in culture and consumption were emulated. Such conditions engendered the attitudes of self-styled competition in consumption (which was essentially a symptom of aspirations to achieve a higher social status) between the nobility and the burghers, as well as among the peasant population. On the one hand, we witness the burghers of Wielkopolska borrowing some models of consumption from the nobility, and on the other hand we see the nobility borrowing some standards of Western European burghers. Faced with economically active burghers, the nobility was forced to attempt to maintain an appropriate level of income in order to maintain the prestige of their class. Yet it was principally the middle nobility (owning one, two or several villages) which could not afford the luxury of leaving the immediate business of managing their manors to leaseholders or bailiffs. These noblemen had to keep the accounts on their own, getting used to rational economic thinking, i.e., to such thinking and conduct which takes business realities into account. Generally, in the situation involving an overall tendency to satisfy the constantly modernizing spectrum of needs (a process which was also discernible among some groups of peasants) there appeared in the 18 th -century Wielkopolska a propensity to invest, i.e., to increase the stock of the means of production in order to boost income, a trend which was by and large alien to the classical feudal model. The nobility, to be sure, saw the main source of their economic prosperity in the manifold feudal exploitation of peasantry, but they simultaneously tried to ensure that they maximize the income from their own business activity (in their demesne) and that the compulsory peasant labor is used there in the most effective way. While the situation to do with needs and income plays the role of the driving force setting the model in motion (through human activity), the specific overall conditions of economic activity exert the most powerful influence on the choice of forms of this activity. The aspirations of the

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nobility (as well as the towns which owned landed estates) to increase the incomes from feudal rents obtained directly from peasants were fulfilled in Wielkopolska primarily by means of settling new land, i.e., the existing reserves of land (which were additionally increased following the ravages of the Great Northern War). On the other hand, the unfavorable location with respect to the Baltic ports in terms of shipping costs had contributed to the emergence (centuries earlier) of the abovementioned autonomous model of the manor, which was more closely connected with the domestic market than with the Baltic export trade. This in turn significantly affected the decisions of the nobility on the profile of their production. In sum, the investment activity of the nobility in the 18 th century Wielkopolska was characterized mainly by: (i) providing favorable conditions for the progress of settlement (rural and urban), (ii) the relatively significant share of non-cereal production in agriculture. Let us examine briefly both of these issues. The 18 th century (as well as earlier) settlement of land was often considered (to some extent under the influence of German literature) as a sort of Drang nach Osten (Push to the East) because of some measure of participation of the German population (which in the 18th century did not exceed 20% of the overall number of new homesteads). In fact it was the Polish side that was active in this process, inviting the settlers who were in great demand at the time, and the ethnic problems were raised in literature only much later. The settlement movement (which is still insufficiently researched) was widespread. In the period 1700-1720, at least 35 new villages were established, not including the previously existing villages which were repopulated (at least 15). The new settlement was by and large a continuation of the process of settling areas of wilderness and larger forest areas as well as land in the river valleys, which began a century earlier and which continued interrupted despite wars and natural disasters. During the period under study the settlement movement affected almost exclusively the areas around Nowy Tomyśl, Zbąszyń, Trzciel, Lwówek, and Wolsztyn, as well as areas along the Warta river between Oborniki and Skwierzyna and the area around Wieleń along the Noteć river.1 The three decades between 1720-1750 saw a significant acceleration of the settlement movement. Besides the areas of the old expansion, 1

For more detailed data (complete with references to the sources), cf. Topolski (1969). This is also relevant with respect to the facts quoted further on in the paper.

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which were still dominant, settlement spread in this period to densely populated areas, where land that was previously of no interest to farmers was now brought under cultivation. In total, around 110 new villages were founded, (known as Olendry villages) and around 25 old ones were repopulated after the ravages of war. One should add to these figure at least about 20 industrial settlements such as brick kilns, forges, smelting furnaces, sawmills and ore mines, which adds up to about 150-160 settlements not including single-homestead settlements. In the subsequent period, which ends with the date of the first partition, the momentum of the settlement movement did not subside (despite the tribulations of the Seven Years War and the Confederacy of Bar). In addition to founding new settlements, the existing ones were expanded. In some areas, particularly in central Wielkopolska (Gniezno district) and in the eastern part (Konin district) as well as in areas which were less affected by internal colonization, the process of settlement clearly intensified. The new settlements in the period 1750-1772 reached 235. The next two decades were even more productive in this respect. Around 400 new villages were settled. In total, during the 18 th century around 800 new villages were settled, as a result of which the area of agricultural land increased by 140,000 hectares. The increase in the area under cultivation is estimated at 20% (after the havoc wreaked by the Great Northern War was offset). This kind of expansion of agricultural land cannot be found in other regions of the country. Additionally one should point out that urbanization process progressed hand in hand with the process of rural settlement, which was manifested both in expanding existing towns and founding new ones. All in all, 25 new towns were founded in Wielkopolska in the 18th century (out of which 10 were new towns founded in the vicinity of old ones). They are symptomatic of the trend towards industrial growth (e.g., Nowe Miasto near Trzcianka) and rural expansion (e.g., Nowy Tomyśl). At the close of the 18 th century, Wielkopolska (Poznań, Kalisz, and Gniezno provinces) had a population of around 810,000, which translates into population density of 24 persons per square kilometer. By contrast, population density in 1720 was only ca. 17 persons per square kilometer. The growth of the population in the period 1720-1793 was about 40%, i.e., more or less as much as the increase in crop cultivation. The increase in the population was principally due to internal population growth. No more than 30,000-35,000 people arrived into the region from outside the borders of Wielkopolska (not including the natural population growth within that group). It is also worth remembering that the movement in the opposite direction was also taking place (not to mention the forced

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recruitment into the Prussian army of a number of Wielkopolska inhabitants). Let us now examine the problem of agricultural production. As we have already mentioned, the production in Wielkopolska was highly varied. Animal husbandry and pisciculture in particular accounted for a large share of the total output. Forest logging and horticulture were intensified. The significant expansion of sheep farming went hand in hand with a growth in output of Wielkopolska’s woollen cloth industry and the growing demand for wool. This was also noticeable in the neighboring Silesia, Bohemia, and Moravia, where woolen cloth industries developed rapidly, as well as all over Europe. It can be calculated that out of about 6.5 million sheep raised in Poland about 1780-1790, ca. 1.3-1.4 million were bred in the Poznań and Kalisz provinces, which means that 20% of all the country’s sheep were concentrated in the part of the country constituting 4% of its overall area (within the borders before the first partition and including the Great Duchy of Lithuania). That amounted to almost 2 heads of sheep per person. Annually, the flock yielded ca. 650,000 kilograms of wool (based on conservative estimates), which fully satisfied the local needs and provided a significant export surplus (about 25%). The manors (covering around 20-25% of rural areas) owned two-thirds of the overall number of sheep, making sheep farming one of their principal sources of income. The average flock in a manor was 400 sheep. On the other hand, peasant homesteads led the way in cattle, horse and pig breeding.

livestock sheep cattle pigs horses

manors

peasants

towns

thousands

%

thousands

%

thousands

%

total, thousands

850 120 45 15

65.0 28.9 17.3 10.7

450 280 200 120

33.5 66.3 76.9 85.7

20 20 15 5

1.5 4.8 5.8 3.6

1230 420 260 140

Table 1. The structure of animal husbandry in Wielkopolska before the second partition.

As mentioned above, besides the sheep farming, forestry, pisciculture, and distilling liquors occupied a significant position in the income structure of the nobility. It was widely recognized at the time that one village in Wielkopolska brought twice as much income to the owner as a similar village in central Poland and three times as much as a village in Lithuania or the Ukraine.

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4. The Essential Characteristics of the Model The earlier analysis implies that in view of the assumed relationship of a more general type: N ∆EA = f — I the following chain of dependence can be established which constitutes a (qualitative) concretization of the presented function for the 18th-century Wielkopolska: The increase of the spectrum of needs of the nobility in view of the growing income of the burghers and peasantry

–

Willingness to invest

Expansion of settlement, of agriculture, sheep farming in particular

► development

Similar diagrams (with appropriate modifications) may be presented with respect to the economic activities of burghers and peasantry. All in all, the activity of the whole society contributed to a significant transformation, resulting in a model which at the end of the 18th century had many essential features that were characteristic only of the region of Wielkopolska. Whereas, according to W. Kula’s findings,2 a model with predominantly agricultural characteristics must be adopted for the whole of Poland, it would be more appropriate to speak of an agriculturalindustrial structure of the region with reference to Wielkopolska. Before the second partition, the percentage of population living in towns was around 28% in Wielkopolska, almost half of which lived in towns with a population of more than 2,500. Unlike towns in other regions of Poland, the Wielkopolska towns were not so heavily agrarian in nature. Only 16% of the overall population of Wielkopolska towns lived off agriculture, whereas the population involved in commerce and crafts accounted for ca. 70%. The textile industry and the production of woolen cloth in particular were the mainstay of the industrial production in the cities, in the second half of the 18 th century heading increasingly towards the modern, early capitalist transformation. Weaving woolen cloth played some role or another in about 60% of towns in Wielkopolska. Two principal areas where woolen cloth weaving was concentrated in Wielkopolska can be distinguished: the south-western part, where the 2

Kula (1962), p. 26.

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main centers were Rawicz, Bojanowo, Wschowa, Leszno, Zaborowo, and Zduny, and the north-western part, where Trzcianka, Jastrowie, Chodzież, Rogoźno, and Obrzycko played the principal role. Rawicz was of foremost importance as a center of the weaving industry, accounting for 15% of the overall production of Wielkopolska (and having around 12% of the looms). Generally, calculations show that before the second partition the region as a whole (including the areas which were lost as a result of the first partition) produced 1.7 million of meters of woolen cloth and other textiles. This was a large output, only one-third lower than that of Silesia. It accounted for 60-70% of the overall production of woolen cloth in Poland-Lithuania. The annual rate of production growth in the last years of independence was at about 4%, which means that it was typical of areas that did not yet reach the stage of industrial revolution. If we combine the production of woolen cloth with that of linen cloth, we will obtain an overall volume of textile production of about 2 million meters. Around 12% of the population of Wielkopolska (including their families) earned their living (or a substantial part of it) in the textile industry. The second essential industry in Wielkopolska was food processing, which was more evenly divided between urban and rural areas. All in all (discounting bakers, butchers, etc.) it employed a workforce of ca. 8,000 (and their families), i.e., about 10% of the total population. branch of industry textile food processing leather wood metallurgical construction, pottery haberdashery and soapmaking, brush making, and paperworks services others total

number of master craftsmen 6501 4573 3912 1448 850 968

total (%) 31.5 22.2 18.9 7.0 4.7 4.2

1502 571

7.3 2.7

20630

100.00

Table 2. Structure of the Wielkopolska craftmanship, ca. 1793.

In total, there were around 25,000 artisan workshops in the towns, and villages in Wielkopolska as well as about 5,000-6,000 industrial establishments in towns and in the country such as horse-driven and

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water mills, windmills, breweries, distilleries, glass and iron furnaces, etc. The artisan population constituted about 17% of the total population. Besides the mixed agricultural-industrial structure of the region, the second most characteristic feature of the Wielkopolska economic model was its trade surplus, which should be considered as an exceptional phenomenon in the country at the time. Although specific data on exports and imports in the period immediately before the second partition are not available; the data for the Duchy of Warsaw as quoted by B. Grochulska provide an important confirmation of the existence of the trade surplus. Generally, the Poznań department of the Duchy of Warsaw ensured a favorable trade balance of the whole Duchy. In the year 1810-1811 the imports into the Poznań department amounted to 6 million Polish zlotys, with exports at 17 million. The figures concerning the whole Duchy, i.e., for all 10 departments, were 33 million for imports and 40 million for exports. The exports from other departments amounted on the average to around 2 million zlotys, with the exception of the department of Bydgoszcz, whose exports had the value close to 9 million Polish zlotys. 3 Cereals (rye, wheat, and barley), flour, and textiles (mainly woolen cloth) were the main Wielkopolska exports. The grain was exported partly via Bydgoszcz and Toruń to Gdańsk, partly to Szczecin, but mostly to Silesia, which additionally received all of Wielkopolska’s exports of flour (which was produced mainly in numerous windmills located close to the border). Poznań was a junction where trade bound for Gdańsk and Szczecin met with the trade bound for Silesia. As far as grain and flour trade between Wielkopolska and Silesia is concerned, Grodzisk, Leszno, Bojanowo, Zduny, Kalisz, Wolsztyn, Szlichtyngowa, Kępno, as well as Poznań (an important center of timber trade) were commercial centers on the Polish side of the border while Wrocław and Brzeg were their counterparts on the Silesian side. Cattle trade was also well developed. The number of merchant specializing in cattle trade reached 180 in the period before the second partition, most of based in Rydzyna, Rawicz, and Zduny. Around 190 merchants traded in woolen cloth and garments (Mosina, Leszno, Bojanowo, Poznań, Rogoźno). There existed a separate kind of manufactory merchants who were involved in supplying the manufactories and providing trade outlets for them. Their number reached 80. After satisfying the domestic demand, woolen cloth from Wielkopolska was exported in large quantities outside the borders of the Kingdom of Poland. It was sent mainly to the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, to the Ukraine, to Russia and further to the east. The woolen cloth trade 3

Grochulska (1967), p. 269.

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was closely connected with the trade in wool. St. John’s Fair in Poznań, the largest trade venue in Wielkopolska, held in spring after the end of the sheep shearing season, derived its importance principally from the wool trade. The third essential characteristic of the Wielkopolska economic model in the 18 th century concerns peasant holdings and the labor force. In the conditions of well-developed monetary economy and economic growth, cash rents had a significant share in overall peasant obligations, although serfs labor service was still predominant. According to J. Rutkowski’s calculations, out of every hundred Polish zlotys of overall value of the landlord’s revenue, labor rent took 65, cash rent 25, and rent in kind 10. In the Małopolska region, the respective figures were 80, 10, and 10 in the Red Ruthenia 90, 5, and 5.4 Generally, at the end of the 18th century in Wielkopolska around 30% of peasants were paying their rent in cash and not in labor. This fact alone bears witness to the process of the decline of traditional serfdom. It is estimated that before the second partition ca. 20-30% of peasants in Wielkopolska were not serfs. 25% of Wielkopolska peasants were landless laborers, compared with 9%, in Mazowsze and Podlasie, 18% in Małopolska and 10% in the Ruthenian territories.5 Both among the nobility and the peasants there emerged a type of mentality which may be described as contractual and which was alien to traditional feudalism. It resulted from an increasing number of arrangements between the landlord and the peasant that were based on contracts. This was true both for entire villages and for individual peasants (e.g., for the categories of tenants, contract workers, etc.). As a definite structural, dynamically-developing whole the economic model of Wielkopolska survived only until the partitions. The partitions, and the economic policy of Prussia in particular, distorted it, obstructing the economic growth not just in the region of Wielkopolska but in the whole country as well. translated by Katarzyna Radke

4 5

Rutkowski (1956), p. 235. Ibid., p. 209.

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REFERENCES Grochulska, B. (1967). Handel zagraniczny Księstwa Warszawskiego [Foreign Trade of the Duchy of Warsaw]. Warszawa: PWN. Kula, W. (1962). Teoria ekonomiczna ustroju feudalnego [The Economic Theory of the Feudal System]. Warszawa: PWN. Rutkowski, J. (1956). Studia nad położeniem włościan w Polsce w XVIII wieku [The Studies on the Situation of Peasants in the 18 th Century]. In: Studia z dziejów wsi polskiej XVI-XVIII w. [Studies on the History of the Polish Countryside in the 16 th -18 th Centuries], pp. 145-240. Warszawa: PWN. Topolski, J., ed. (1969). Dzieje Wielkopolski, t. I [The History of Wielkopolska, vol. 1]. Poznań: Wydawnictwo Poznańskie.

Bogusław Leśnodorski THERE WAS NOT ONE CAUSA EFFICIENS OF POLAND’S PARTITIONS

There was not and perhaps could not be one causa efficiens of the collapse and the partitions of the Polish Republic. Neither traditionally interpreted relations nor the so-called sufficient conditions can explain the problem. This does not only concern this specific event. To the contrary, it is of broader interest for the whole puzzling issue of the fall of certain state systems and the rise of others. It is too often in such cases that scholars resort to conjectures or highly exaggerated principal factors analyzed separately. It is also all too often that we apply the so-called counterfactual questions and inferences. While relativized to certain conditions, they are formulated in the following manner: “would it have been so and so if this or that had happened?” (e.g., absolutism in Poland in modern times) or “what would have happened if this or that had occurred.”1 It is not enough to reach back to a “disturbing factor” of a system that is closed to a certain extent and that is composed of the institutions, politics and culture of the Sarmatians. This is not enough even if we adopt the view that this factor (I am referring to an act of external aggression) became particularly active on the territory of Poland as well, and that it affected all remaining conditions of historical background that were favorable to it. In the system of active components, we should be interested in a longer process of accumulation, which is not merely in a certain framework of separately definable components, but in their dialectic and integrating set, specified by tensions and feedbacks that are significant for it. Our interest should be not only in a certain course of events but in a historical time proper for the epoch. 2 1

Giedymin (1965), p. 23. For an excellent introduction into these problems, see Lange (1964); Seberg (1964); and Topolski (1965), pp. 5f.

2

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 287-295. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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This does not mean that one must necessarily embrace unrestrained pluralism and enter the grounds of interactionism that is so characteristic of the functionalist school, according to which everything, therefore in our case the “whole” of collapse of our former state, would be determined with equal force by the all operating elements. All the elements engaged in that process, as we perceive it, would then be treated as equally valid. It seems that even if one does not relapse into the extremes of economic materialism, the priority should be awarded to elements of economics, that is production forces and relations of production as well as their derivations, i.e., social structures. However, it would be by no means synonymous with further diminution of the importance of institutions, ideas, culture. This is because only all the macrocomponents of the macrosystem under consideration or, in other words, the sphere, make up a network of linkages that is discussed in the present study. Even if one does not separate the so-called internal and external causes of the collapse, which would be nonsense, it is not possible not to award a logical priority to causes of the first type. These causes, however, must be conditioned by the general system of forces and developments in Europe. We should be constantly aware of the fact that while conducting the entire reasoning we are not after photographing events. Rather, we pursue the task of scientific reconstruction. The circumstances which are subject to the present analysis and which have occurred for at least the past two centuries include: the territory and its physical and geographical as well as demographic diversity; the division of Europe; the economic and social structures; the culture of the masses of nobility as a sum of prevailing patterns of thinking and political conduct in over a long period of time; and the degeneration and corruption of the initially admirably interesting institutions, which in the 16 th and 17 th century strived to provide an alternative the absolutism developing in other countries. Once we have properly reconstructed the entire feedback of those components, we will find a proper place for the effective role of the military aggression and political penetration of the three powers that partitioned Poland. The aggression was the immediate direct component of the macrosystem under discussion. All kinds of tendencies found its expression in it. The partitioning powers started the aggression upon Poland and Lithuania after a longer period of internal transformations and in the course of consolidating the system of enlightened absolutism. Hence, the conditions for the development of Russia emerged upon encouragement on the part of the people gathered around Peter the Great, especially since the first two decades of the 18th century, and then during

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the reign of Catherine II (1762-1796). Thus, it was the period where the system of relations in Poland was formed. Within the Russian Empire that development stamped its mark on many fields, far from being present only in the personal political endeavors of the rulers, such as Catherine II, who was praised by French philosophers as Semiramis du Nord, “Minerve russe,” also “the most Russian, though German by birth, from among Russian Empresses.” The fast development of the Prussian monarchy, which was due to the style of domestic administration and the aggressive foreign policy, occurred only during the period of Frederick II’s reign (though not his diabolical personal actions) after the year of 1740. As a result, the population of Prussia increased rapidly, which was obviously due both to territorial gain and internal transformations. The population rose from the meager 2.4 million to 6 million in 1786. The publicists and writers might have been criticizing that country for its culture, manners, politics marked by pourriture avant maturité (Mirabeau). But the development of Prussia was a fact, and a very dangerous one for Poland and for other countries, as shown in the epoch of the Great Revolution. Austria also developed during the rule of Maria Theresa and Joseph II, i.e., only after 1740. The development was partly impeded after the death of the latter monarch, when after the enlightened absolutism of Joseph II and Leopold II there Austria lapsed back to absolutism tout court. The ratio of forces was catastrophic for the Commonwealth of Poland and Lithuania. This is clearly demonstrated by the data on the number of troops. In mid-18th century, the Russian army based upon a well-developed war industry supplies was estimated at 300,000 troops, the Prussian army at 200,000 troops, and the Polish army was only 12,000 to 16,000 strong.3 The size of the Polish army slightly increased after the year of 1764; it was now also considerably improved, modernized, and better equipped. At the time of reform in the year 1789, it was planned that the army should be increased to 60-65,000 troops. Yet for the war with Russia in 1792 (they were not all of the divisions) only 37,000 were deployed; the ratio of the infantry forces to the cavalry was unfavorable for the Poles, and their artillery was unsatisfactory. Further concerted military efforts and the related democratic changes were brought into the national army by the 1794 insurrection.4 In the realm of 3 “The comparison between the manpower of the army and the military expenditure in Poland and the countries of the partitioners in fact exhausts and closes the discussion about the reasons of the collapse of the Commonwealth.” Such a standpoint, formulated by Zaleski (1961, pp. 207-208) in his interesting outline is a simplification. 4 The above-mentioned issues have been discussed in Kukiel (1949) and Herbst (1949, 1958, 1960).

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the economy and treasury, the state of affairs is very clearly depicted in the data on the state share in the income of great landowners. According to one estimate, the share grew approximately 85 times on the territory of the Austrian partition after 1772 it grew, compared with to petty encumbrances from the times of the Republic, which at any rate the nobility shifted upon the peasantry.5 As a result, the first of the anti-Polish political aspirations in chronological terms, and the most cynical ones at the same time, were the plans of Prussia concerning the partitions of Poland. Prussia had long strived for territorial acquisitions and first destroyed the Polish Republic through various economic means, aiming to achieve its own revival after the wars in the first half of the 18th century. That was crudely worded in Frederick II’s famous last will. He was concerned primarily with the socalled Royal Prussia, including Gdańsk and Warmia, after he had already obtained Szczecin with the surrounding parts of Pomerania and Silesia. He slyly recommended to “devour like an artichoke, leaf after leaf” that province, tear off “sometimes a city, sometimes a district, until the whole has been taken in.”6 On the Russian side, two tendencies were in conflict. The first one was an idea of a protectorate over the whole of the Polish Republic as a vassal state. The second was that of a partition, which was supposed to afford possibilities for personal financial profits of the court power group, and for other benefits. The Russian adherents of the first idea envisaged it as part of the so-called Northern system, i.e., the alliance of Russia, Prussia, England, Denmark, and the Russian protectorate in Warsaw and Stockholm.7 After a long period of hesitations, the second of the plans won. Austria participated in the first and third partition, but it was generally less active in relations with Poland and in the projects concerning partitions of Poland. As a matter of fact, it was the first to capture a small fragment of the Republic, Spisz, situated on the southern side of the Tatra Mountains and then three Polish districts on the Northern side. The area was seized in two installments as far back as in 1769 and then in 1770, i.e., before the first partition. Chancellor Kaunitz did not miss the opportunity to take part in the projects concerning the partitions and in exchanges with Prussia. In the course of the first partition, Joseph II’s greed and fraudulence outmatched the two remaining partners.

5

Rychlikowa (1960), p. 175. Konopczyński (1946, 1947); Rostworowski (1949). 7 Łojek (1962); compare the critical review by Michalski (1965), pp. 512f. 6

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However, the French government did not neglect undertaking similar actions either. The French government assigned the Polish Republic only the role of an object in the political game that was going on. Also Britain, which was gaining in importance in the whole international situation, envisaged similar role for Poland. Later, during the wars of the French Revolution with the coalition, Poland was supposed to relieve France by arranging an uprising at the rear of the Prussian army on the Polish territory in 1794.8 Under such circumstances it might not seem paradoxical to claim that the fact that the Republic survived a series of wars, destruction and invasions by alien armies in the period 1700-1763 and did not succumb to partitions earlier was to a certain extent due first to its weakness and anarchy, and secondly to the unreadiness and discord among its neighbors. A state of such sort, a sphere of influences of foreign countries, did not have to helplessly perish under all the circumstances outlined above even during the epoch of the famous dynamic balance (Teilungssystem) that was so characteristic of the 18th century. But then it must have lacked the co-ordination of interests among the neighboring countries. It is a matter of fact that Polish regenerative institutional and political reforms, while extremely backward when compared with the developments within the great powers and only partly approximating some of the institutions of enlightened absolutism, were an attempt to catch up again with other European countries in their economic and civilizational development. It was not only Polish offensive actions themselves but all the things mentioned above stimulated the aspirations for partitions, that led the three powers, with reversals of fortune and tensions between the participating countries, to reach an agreement to wage the anti-Polish campaign. It is evident that each of the three subsequent pro-independence movements, each different in social and political terms, accelerated one of the three partitions respectively. Such was the case of the Confederacy of Bar, formed by the traditionalist nobility in 1768. The same is true for the Polish “parliamentary revolution” in 1791, to use Lelewel’s expression. Finally, this also applies to the 1794 insurrection, which for the first time voiced Polish revolutionary ideas, in the social sense of the word ‘revolution’, and produced the first buds of Romanticism. Each of the events was not free of illusions and errors, not to mention the disadvantageous coincidence whereby, according to the interpretations of earlier historians, Poland relied on external aid. The aid seemed justified by Polish interests not only with respect to France and 8

Feldman (1933).

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Great Britain, but even with respect to Prussia in 1790, at the time of its short-lived disagreement with Russia. Yet Stanislaus August’s efforts were more propagandistic than strictly political, and apart from the period of the 1794 insurrection, there was no uniform and consistent Polish foreign policy. A coincidence of measures taken by different centers, groups and people has taken its toll. Polish and foreign journalism of the time did not bring the expected results. It was to a large extent inspired by Stanislaus August, and at the time of the first and the second partition it strove to appeal to governments and societies in many different languages. One of the shrewd observers of Polish relations, an Englishman William N. Wraxall, wrote at the beginning of the period under study: “It seems that all parts that had unified the society, made it noble and gave it stability lost their vigor among the Poles.”9 At this point, the Polish reformers, who thus far were inspired by different ideas and influences, took up the work of reconstruction and growth. Those of them who wanted to continue further strove to “create anew or rather to recreate the Polish world,” as it was put at the time. It required great effort domestically and a sustained struggle to fend off the external invasion. Also, it required suitable skills and time. Those of them who were greater “realists” (a dubious expression, by the way), such as Stanislaus August, realized that the renaissance and “the formation of a new tribe of Poles” requires “lights and circumstances” (des Lumiéres et des circonstances), and while it is usually claimed the contrary, they were not only prompted by opportunism. It was incomparably easier to find instances of the first kind. Hugo Kołłątaj, the most active reformer involved in the process of institutional change, wrote at the beginning of the Great Sejm: “May nobody ventured to fly until we have grown new wings . . .” Given the intensity of research on the subject which is still insufficient, it is difficult to fully and justly estimate the balance of profits and losses in the process of transformations, reforms and efforts that was designed to protect Poland’s independence and that was undertaken at that time. This applies primarily the scope of the transformations. They were not extremely numerous and did not involve the masses. However, their influence should not be considered to be limited to the highest, narrowest and mot elitist social strata.10 It is true that possibilities of immediate consequence proved to be slender. In spite of the boom in the second half of the 18 th century, the total Polish agricultural and industrial output was about one third lower 9

Zawadzki (1963), pp. 477ff. Cf. Kula (1961) and Leśnodorski (1961).

10

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compared with the second half of the 16th century. Backwardness and delays severely encumbered the entirety of the socio-political and cultural experiments of that time that were undertaken in the Republic. The armed struggle for independence continued both then and in the years that followed, next to the so-called organic work that emerged in the 19 th century. While its immediate results may have been wretched, they were significant as actions that halted the process of social and cultural disintegration, and the degeneration of institutions. They once again committed the leading Polish forces to the changes that were characteristic in those times, at that “great age,” of other countries and nations on the European and American continents. They accelerated the process of coming to maturity of modern national consciousness. Without downplaying the role of the economy and politics, the factor of human mentality and consciousness was more important under the 19th-century circumstances when the Polish territory was divided. Nobody was as lucid as Lelewel in his depiction of the drama which unfolded in Europe and the “New World”: All the enormous mass of antiquated prejudices and misconceptions, once removed from the ground, were running away in atrocity or shame. New theories and all sorts of conceptions passed on to fascinated minds in all estates, the voice of freedom and equality reverberated with rapture and fiery wish and stirred up disgust at all outdated and broken mechanisms. . . . Revolutions became inescapable. When stopped or stifled by the local circumstances and particularities, they depended on accident which could accelerate their outbreak: America, Belgium, the Netherlands, and finally France were affected. Unending and grim for the humanity, there ensued a struggle. With universal zest, the spirited letters proliferated. Ardent minds openly pressed upon the old order of the society, with its dead set of rules justified by ancient customs: hackneyed, yet still preserved by the force of habit, obstinacy, and foolish superstition. Their vision and opinions exerted unspeakable influence upon crowds, which sought new ideas, and fire. 11

Social mobility, which in Poland existed in a number of different groups including the intellectual elite, combined with the fire of minds, failed to win the race with the demise of the state. Yet in spite of the collapse of the country and its people, they both survived the partitions and paved new ways, despite huge difficulties during the period of transformation. The stratification of the feudal estates, i.e., the nobility, the burghers and the peasantry, accompanied by changes in their attitudes and awareness – was a permanent phenomenon, which began shortly before the partitions and grew after they occurred. In the clash between

11

Lelewel (1839), pp. 145-146.

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Polish teachers of political reason and the partitioners, the victory of the latter was only superficial. translated by Małgorzata Klimek REFERENCES Feldman, J. (1933). U podstaw stosunków polsko-angielskich [The Foundations of the Polish-English Relations, 1788-1863]. Polityka Narodów 1 (3), 7-47. Giedymin, J. (1965). Charakterystyka pytań i wnioskowań kontrfaktycznych [The Characteristics of Counterfactual Questions and Inferences]. Studia Metodologiczne 1, 23-45. Herbst, St. (1949). Studia nad polską wojną rewolucyjną 1794 roku [Studies on the Polish Revolutionary War 1794]. Sprawozdania PAU 50, 431-434. Herbst, St. (1958). Powstanie Kościuszkowskie a przełom sztuki wojennej u schyłku XVIII wieku [Kościuszko’s Uprising and the Breakthrough in the Martial Art at the End of the 18 th Century]. Biuletyn Wojskowej Akademii Politycznej 4, 35-41. Herbst, St. (1960). Les problèmes de l’armée polonaise et de l’art militaire au XVIIIe siècle. Acta Poloniae Historica 3, 33-48. Konopczyński, W. (1946). Pierwszy rozbiór Polski [The First Partition of Poland]. Sprawozdania PAU 47, 15-19. Konopczyński, W. (1947). Fryderyk Wielki a Polska [Frederick the Great and Poland]. Poznań: Instytut Zachodni. Kukiel, M. (1949). Zarys historii wojskowości w Polsce [An Outline of the History of the Military in Poland]. London: Orbis. Kula, W. (1961). L’histoire économique de la Pologne du dix-huitième siècle. Acta Poloniae Historica 4, 133-146. Lange, O. (1962). Całość i rozwój w świetle cybernetyki [The Whole and Development in the Light of Cybernetics]. Warszawa: PWN. Lelewel, J. (1839). Panowanie króla polskiego Stanisława Augusta Poniatowskiego [The Reign of the Polish King Stanislaus August Poniatowski]. Paryż: Książnica Polska. Leśnodorski, B. (1961). Le Siècle des Lumières en Pologne. L’état des recherches dans le domaine de l’histoire politique, des institutions et des idées. Acta Poloniae Historica 4, 147-174. Łojek, J. (1962). Misja Debolego w Petersburgu w latach 1787-1792 [Deboli’s Mission in Petersburg in 1787-1792]. Wrocław: Ossolineum. Michalski, M. (1965). Review of Misja Debolego w Petersburgu w latach 1787-1792, by J. Łojek. Przegląd Historyczny 56, 512-522. Rostworowski, E. (1949). Na drodze do I rozbioru Polski [On the Way to the 1 st Partition of Poland]. Roczniki Historyczne 18, 181-204. Rychlikowa, I. (1960). Klucz wielkoporębski Wodzickich w drugiej połowie XVIII wieku. [Wielka Poręba Estate of the Wodzicki Family in the Second Half of the 18 th Century]. Wrocław: Ossolineum. Sebag, L. (1964). Marxisme et structuralisme. Paris: Payot. Topolski, J. (1965). Integracyjny sens materializmu historycznego [The Integrative Sense of Historical Materialism]. Studia Metodologiczne 1, 5-22.

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Zaleski, W. (1961). Tysiąc lat naszej wspólnoty [A Thousand Years of Our Community]. London: Veritas. Zawadzki, W., ed. (1963). Polska stanisławowska w oczach cudzoziemców, t. I [Poland during the Reign of Stanislaus August Poniatowski in the Eyes of the Foreigners, vol. 1]. Warszawa: PIW.

IV ANALYTICAL PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY POLISH CONTRIBUTIONS

Andrzej Malewski, Jerzy Topolski

THE NOMOTHETIC VERSUS THE IDIOGRAPHIC APPROACH TO HISTORY

1. Introduction The methodology of history has long constituted a ground for heated disputes on the methodological character of the science of history. Two questions play a major role in those disputes: “is history an idiographic science?” and “are there any laws of history?” The objective of the present chapter is to provide answers to these questions. However, it is worth noting that these questions are ambiguous. They can be interpreted in various senses, and our answer being depends on how they are interpreted.1 Hence, before we begin to deal with the substance of our analysis, we should first formulate the problems under consideration more precisely. We will first explain what it means to adopt an idiographic approach in investigating the reality. Subsequently, we shall take up the task of distinguishing between various, completely separate aspects of the problem which sometimes go unnoticed in various debates about the idiographic nature of history. 2. Two Types of Inquiry into Reality: Idiographic and Nomothetic The same reality can be investigated in two ways. These can be best illustrated by examples. Let us assume that we are interested in some 1 It is very conspicuous in the literature of the subject. Cf., e.g., Windelband (1915), pp. 136-160; Rickert (1926), (1929); Bernhiem (1903), pp. 91-126 and 138-157; Bujak (1923); Kotarbiński (1929), pp. 417-429; Sztejnberg (1933), pp. 77-106; Ossowski (1935), p. 30; Popper (1950), pp. 447-448; Tymieniecki (1951), pp. 1-3; Gutt (1953), p. 52; Schaff (1955), pp. 86-186; Łowmiański (1956), p. 177.

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 299-309. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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complex of assorted phenomena for which the label Sanacja has been coined, meaning Poland’s government between May 1926 and September 1939. While investigating this complex of phenomena we may embark on an analysis of a range of circumstances beginning with the disposition of forces in the society and in Parliament before the coup of May 1926, the events immediately preceding the coup, (e.g., Wincenty Witos being charged with the task of forming the third successive cabinet), the description of the course of events in the critical days of May; then we may continue to investigate the changes which occurred after the coup, such as the resignation of President Wojciechowski, the decision of the left to join the opposition, and the formation of pro-government Nonpartisan Bloc for Co-operation with the Government (BBWR), measures taken by the post-coup governments in the economic as well as cultural and educational policy, its policies with respect to national minorities, in international relations, etc., the work of the new Parliament under the leadership of Ignacy Daszyński, etc., finally leading to such events as founding the Centrolew opposition bloc, the political trials at Brest-Litovsk, and the entry into force of the new constitution. We would thereby present some particular complex of assorted events, which has not repeated itself as a whole in any other time or place. The cooccurrence of many different circumstances imparts some individual character to it. But this very complex problem can be also investigated in a completely different way. We can focus on what is common to all types of dictatorial regimes and on the consequences which inexorably accompany the dictatorship. In other words, we can focus on the Sanacja as on one of many types of dictatorial regimes in order to confirm or refute some general hypotheses about dictatorial regimes in general. These two ways of investigating the reality can be illustrated also by many other examples. While investigating the period preceding the Great Depression of 1929, we may turn either to a detailed analysis of complex circumstances appearing in some particular countries or direct our attention to what is common to various situations in which an economic crisis occurs. The former of the types of inquiry is proper for economic historians, and the latter for economists. Let us consider one more example. Let us assume that we research some group of people living in some particular time and place. We may aim to present a possibly multifaceted characterization of these people, encompassing their characteristics, living conditions, the course of their lives, their failures and achievements of personal, professional, and political nature. But we may also become interested in the same group of

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people in a completely different way. We may use them to verify some general hypotheses. These people may become interesting for an economist-theoretician because of transactions of sale and purchase that they were involved in. A theorist dealing with preconditions for spreading various ideologies may become interested because of their acceptance of rejection of some views. A theorist investigating the longterm impact of various educational systems may be interested because of the way in which they were educated, etc. The above examples were meant to illustrate the two distinct types of investigating the reality. The former type of inquiry, which we have so far characterized only in a general way, will henceforth be called idiographic inquiry, whereas the latter kind will be referred to as nomothetic inquiry. The above characterization, however, is not precise enough to allow us to answer in unambiguously the questions that were presented in the introduction. We must attempt to characterize these two types of inquiry into the reality more precisely. The notion of a law of science will play here the central part. Therefore, let us first explain this very notion. 3. A Law of Science. A Historical Statement The term ‘a law of science’, just as the terms ‘a law of physics’, ‘a law of biology’ and ‘a law of sociology’ is sometimes used to denote the proposition about the relation between events and sometimes the relation itself which this proposition describes. In our analysis, we will use the term ‘laws’ only with respect to the propositions. The essential problem is thus what kind of propositions can be described as laws of science. The term ‘a law of science’ is not always used consistently. Therefore, one is bound to give it a more precise meaning than the one which is so frequently used in common parlance. We will strive to make our definition as consistent as possible with the way the term is used in science and the methodology of sciences, as well as productive in terms of opportunities for generating propositions that are significant in a cognitive and practical sense. As a rule, laws of science are considered to be only general propositions or approximately general propositions. But not all general propositions are laws. Nobody would probably classify as a law of science the proposition stating that every Polish peasant uprising in the 19 th century ended in defeat. We would not describe as a law of science the propositions stating, for example, that in the years 1374-1404

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(following the so called Statute of Koszyce) a land tax of 2 grosze per each łan of arable peasant land on noble estates was levied, or that most of the towns in the 17 th -century Poland became impoverished, or that Napoleon Bonaparte’s soldiers were always given uniforms or a cash equivalent in addition to their pay. All of the statements presented here are not laws but historical generalizations. Only general statements which are not generalizations can be laws.2 We will henceforth call them strictly general statements.3 Examples of strictly general statements include the statements that the percentage of political opportunists increases in every group which gains power, or that (the expected punishment being equal) if members of some social group are worse and worse off, they feel more and more hostile, or that whenever maintaining some traditional ideology could threaten the achieved position in terms of wealth, prestige or power, the tradition loses its support or becomes modified,4 or that (assuming constant supply and the absence of legal obstacles) if the consumers buy more and more of some commodity, the sellers raise its price, etc. Outside the realm of social sciences, examples of strictly general statements can be found in the statements saying that when the pressure of a fixed mass of gas increases, its volume proportionally decreases if the temperature is constant, or that when the temperature of a fixed mass of gas increases, its pressure increases proportionally if the volume is constant. One could point to many characteristics which allow us to decide whether some general statement is a historical generalization or a strictly general statement.5 We shall emphasize here first and foremost one characteristic which seems sufficient as a litmus test. Let us turn our attention to the fact that both in the historical generalizations which were listed above and in all other historical generalizations there appear either proper names (e.g., Poland, Koszyce and Napoleon Bonaparte), or the terms which cannot be defined without recourse to proper names, chronological characteristics being prominent among them (e.g., 17th or 2

Dąmbska (1933); Popper (1935), p. 28. The distinction we made between strictly general statements and historical generalisations corresponds with the distinction made by Popper (1935, pp. 28-29) between general statements of specific generality and numerical generality. Historical generalisations are also sometimes called statements of limited generality. Such a terminology is used for example by Mehlberg (1948, p. 228). 4 Cf. Pareto (1935); Dollard et al. (1945), p. 38; Malewski (1957). 5 As a matter of principle, strictly general statements can be never substantiated by means of complete induction. They always refer to the so-called incomplete classes of events, i.e., classes of events to which some new elements may still be added. They are not marked by the characteristics of space and time, etc. 3

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19 th century).6 It should suffice to say that all chronological characteristics can be defined only by reference to proper names (e.g., by referring to the lapse of time since the founding of Rome, since Muhammad’s escape from Mecca to Medina, since the birth of Christ or the beginning of the common era). By contrast, strictly general statements can include neither proper names nor terms that are not readily definable without reference to proper names. Chronological characteristics of any sort must be thus absent from these statements.7 Relying on the earlier distinction between strictly general statements and historical generalizations, we can now define the notion of a law of science. Thus, the law of science is a strictly general proposition which has been substantiated and which belongs to some science.8 We contend that such a characterization, which classifies only strictly general propositions as laws of science, approximately corresponds to the most frequent way of applying the term ‘a law of science’ in the sciences and the methodology of sciences. Still, a question may arise about the point of making distinctions between historical generalizations and strictly general statements and classifying only the latter group as laws of science. What reasons favor such a characterization of laws of science? One should observe that the scholars who demanded that only the statements which do not contain some chronological limits should be classified as laws meant to contrast propositions describing some constant relations on the one hand with propositions describing some accidental co-occurrences of two or more characteristics at some specific time and place on the other. These scholars meant to formulate statements saying that some conditions always cause some particular results, irrespective of the time and place in which they take place. This is because such statements deserve to be singled out, not least because 6

This view is developed in a very clear manner by Popper (1935, pp. 29-32). This does not mean, obviously, that every strictly general statement must be applicable at all times and places. The statement that ‘whenever there is free competition, a concentration of capital follows’ is a strictly general statement because of absence of any proper names and terms which cannot be defined without reference to proper names. But this statement can be applied only to some periods in history because conditions mentioned in this statement occurred only during some periods. Similarly, an example of a strictly general statement can be found in the statement that whenever there is a ready market for grain and serfdom, the manorial-serf economy develops. It is self-evident, however, that the conditions which were mentioned in the antecedent of this proposition in fact took place only in some particular period of time. 8 Strictly speaking, one should add that these have to be empirical statements. We would not like to classify as laws of science such propositions which are results of accepted terminological assumptions. 7

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they provide the knowledge that is necessary for transforming the reality. If we know the appropriate laws of science, we can trigger particular events by creating conditions described in these laws. Historical generalizations, on the other hand, do not provide us with such knowledge (i.e., knowledge that is necessary to transform the reality).9 Therefore, those who do not want science merely to describe the world but to provide knowledge that is necessary for a conscious transformation of the reality cannot confine themselves to substantiating general statements of any kind, but must strive to substantiate strictly general statements, and thus to formulate laws. This is one of the reasons why we contend that the notion of the strictly general statement is of an enormous importance for the methodology of sciences. 10 Strictly general statements may be contrasted with historical statements. We will classify as a historical statement any statement which is not a strictly general statement. Thus, an example of a historical statement may be the following one: “the palatine of Vilnius Michał Ogiński spent 12 million zlotys to build the canal which connected the river Niemen through the Szczara, the Jasiołda and the Pripet with the river Dniepr,” 11 and one stating that in the royal estates of the Kingdom of Poland in the years 1564-1566: “the average income from peasant rents and tributes was 67 zlotys,”12 or yet another one stating that “the age of Stanislaus August Poniatowski is an age of reform and outstanding progress in all respects,” 13 and finally that in the 18 th -century Poland “the deplorable state of finances was somewhat related to the type of the political regime in Poland.” 14 9 Nonetheless someone could advance a charge that, e.g., on the basis of the historical generalisation stating that “if we heat up any metal rod which is at the present moment in my room this rod will expand” we can as well transform the reality as using an appropriate law of science. This is the case, however, merely because the limitations of space and time (“at this moment in my room”) in this artificial example happen to be a redundant addition which can be safely omitted. By saying that historical generalisations do not provide us with the knowledge that is necessary to transform reality, we mean historical generalisations proper, i.e., those in which the limitations of space and time are not a redundant addition, but determine the truth-value of the proposition. 10 Sometimes the decision on whether some general proposition is a strictly general proposition or historical generalisation may pose some problems. These problems are caused by the fact that sometimes we do not understand clearly enough the sense of the terms appearing in the proposition under consideration. These difficulties disappear when the sense of the proposition at hand becomes completely clear. 11 Rutkowski (1946), p. 287. 12 Ibid., p. 143. 13 Ibid., p. 241. 14 Ibid., p. 313.

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We will find a historical statement in the opinion that “the revolutionary society Towarzystwo Demokratyczne Polskie . . . promised the emancipation of all peasants working their own land by the revolutionary government on the first day of the uprising”15 and in the statement that “from the 1840s onwards, such ideas began to gain wide circulation in the Kingdom of Poland among the urban intelligentsia, clerks employed on noble estates and artisans in Warsaw and the provinces” 16 as well as in the statement that in the first half of the 19th century in the Kingdom of Poland “parallel to the growing incidence of expelling peasants from their land, there developed another trend of commuting labor dues into money rents.”17 Finally, examples of historical statements referring to a completely different time and place can be found in the statement saying that “shortly after the end of the civil war in Rome and the downfall of Anthony, Augustus surrendered in 27 AD all his extraordinary powers which he had obtained less than two decades earlier as a triumvir,” 18 and in the statement that “in the time interval between the rule of Tiberius and Nero the Roman Senate lost even these remnants of political significance which Augustus left to it,”19 and in the statement that “the people of Rome were connected with the ruling aristocracy by multifarious ties of political patronage and clientship.”20 We view all of the listed statements as historical statements because they describe phenomena taking place at a specific time and place and none of them is a strictly general statement. Relying on the above distinction between general statements and historical statements, we can now attempt to give a general characterization of both types of inquiry into the reality, which have so far been only illustrated by examples. Historians describe some subject in a purely idiographic way if the results of their investigation take the form of historical statements. Historians describe some subject in a way which is purely nomothetic if they subordinate all of their research to the aim of substantiating some laws of science and treat historical statements exclusively as premises used to substantiate these laws. Clearly, in addition to these two approaches, i.e., a purely idiographic and a purely nomothetic one, mixed types of inquiries may exist. These 15

Kieniewicz (1953), p. 31. Ibid. 17 Ibid., p. 22. 18 Zawadzki (1957), p. 18. 19 Ibid., p. 25. 20 Ibid., p. 10. 16

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are investigations which aim to substantiate both strictly general statements and historical statements, these two types of statements being treated as equal in importance. 4. Main Issues in Disputes on the Idiographic Nature of History The previous section was devoted to conceptual analysis, which was indispensable in order to avoid misunderstandings. Let us now return to the first of the questions posed at the beginning, i.e., to the question of whether history is an idiographic science. We noted earlier that the question used to be interpreted in various ways and that the debates on the idiographic nature of history sometimes involved as many as several separate issues that were not properly understood. At least three such problems should be distinguished at this point. The first concerns the problem of whether the subject of historical inquiry can be investigated in an exclusively idiographic way. By the subject of historical inquiry we mean people’s actions, because it is those actions which principally constitute the historical process. Therefore, the point is whether human actions, whose history is the subject of historians’ inquiry, are such that they preclude any laws and thus should be described exclusively by means of historical statements. The affirmative answer to this question will be called the thesis of the idiographism of the subject, because it refers to the nature of the subject investigated by the historical sciences. The second of the problems that we are interested in is completely different from the previous one. It concerns the issue of whether the researchers focusing on the realm of history conduct their research exclusively in an idiographic way, i.e., whether they are preoccupied exclusively with establishing historical statements, and never with laws of science. The affirmative answer to this question translates into the view that in fact historians by and large do not occupy themselves with establishing laws of science and instead deal exclusively with establishing historical statements. Such a view will be called the thesis of the idiographism of scientific research. Finally, the third problem concerns the controversy about whether it is desirable that historians should be preoccupied exclusively with formulating historical statements, leaving the task of a possible formulation of laws of economics to socio-psychologists and sociologists. The view involving the affirmative answer to this question will be called the program of the idiographism of scientific research. It is not the point at

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this juncture what historians are actually doing with but what they should be doing and what sort of division of labor between historians and representatives of other social sciences would be the most desirable. Below, we will take up the issue of assessing these three problems. 5. Are There any Laws of History? So far, we have analyzed various issues which can be encountered in the debates about the idiographic character of history. In conclusion, we would like to address briefly the second question asked at the beginning of the chapter, namely the question of the existence of historical laws or laws of history. The question has often been the subject of disputes and, as we shall see, great many of them were caused by misunderstandings. Therefore, we would like to deal primarily with what was meant by those who opposed the concept of the laws of history on the one hand, and by those who tried to advance the opinion supporting the existence and the objective nature of such laws. The claim about the existence of historical laws or laws of history may be interpreted in various ways. Two interpretations spring to mind in particular, depending on whether we use the term with respect to propositions about events that are investigated by historians, or relations that are described by means of such propositions. Let us accept the interpretation of laws as propositions. In this case, the claim affirming the existence of laws of history could be interpreted as equivalent to the view that at the present stage of the development of science it is possible to formulate substantiated strictly general propositions referring to human actions which are the subject of historian’s inquiry. However, such an interpretation gives rise to some objections. Namely, it has become generally accepted that substantiated strictly general propositions referring to human activity are given the label of laws of psychology, sociology or economics and not laws of history. What is more, it is impossible to characterize history sufficiently by identifying its subject (since economic history and economics, as well as history and sociology share approximately the same subject), and such a characterization is to be found in the way that history deals with this subject, being preoccupied with the particular. Therefore, some practitioners of methodology emphasized that speaking about laws of history makes no sense, because the very notion of a law of history

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(= law of the particular) is intrinsically contradictory.21 This is not the only source of the opposition to the idea of laws of history, but nonetheless it is one of the most frequent ones. We contend that the inconsistency just described is of little importance. What is important is that laws concerning the human activity are formulated and verified, and if we execute such a task it is merely of minor importance whether such laws will be called laws of history or laws of economics or laws of sociology. It may be noted, however, that there are some arguments against calling such laws of history. First of all such, a term is fraught with many unwelcome associations which may give rise to misunderstandings. This is connected with the fact that referring to some law as a historical law suggests to scholars of some persuasions that the conditions which the law describes appear exclusively in some historical period (which would rule out the possibility of applying it more broadly) or, worse still, that it does not constitute a law sensu stricto but a historical generalization (which would pose a danger of blurring the enormously important difference between generalizations and laws). The second argument concerns the trends of hypostatizing and anthropomorphizing the term history that are sometimes observable. They are conspicuous in expressions such as verdicts of history and a judgment of history. In such cases, one may come across an analogous interpretation of laws of history. In such an interpretation, the laws of history become synonymous with inexorable decisions of some mysterious and impersonal judge and ruler: a modern counterpart of the ancient Moirai. If we could avoid the misunderstandings described above, it would not matter whether laws concerning human activity are called laws of sociology or laws of history. One would have to bear in mind, however, that one should not be misled by one’s own terminology while reading and criticizing the scholars who use the same labels to mean something else, which was the case with some criticism leveled against Rickert’s views. 22

21

Cf., e.g., Rickert (1924), p. 90; cf. also the excellent account of this view in Ossowski (1935), p. 3. 22 Cf., e.g., Gutt (1953); also Schaff (1955), pp. 97, 100 and 113.

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REFERENCES Bernheim, E. (1903). Lehrbuch der historischen Methode. Leipzig: Duncker und Humblot. Bujak, F. (1923). Zagadnienie syntezy w historii [The Issue of Synthesis in History]. Kwartalnik Historyczny 27, 1-23. Dąmbska, I. (1933). O prawach w nauce [On Laws in Science]. Lwów: Gubrynowicz i Syn. Dollard, J., N.E. Miller, L.W. Dob, O.H. Maurer and R.R Sears (1945). Frustration and Aggression. Yale: Yale University Press. Gutt, J. (1953). Niektóre zagadnienia poznania historycznego w świetle materializmu dialektycznego i historycznego [Some Issues of Historical Cognition in the Light of Dialectical and Historical Materialism]. In: Pierwsza konferencja metodologiczna historyków polskich, t. 1 [Proceedings of the 1 st Methodological Conference of Polish Historians, vol. 1], pp. 41-64. Warszawa: PWN. Kieniewicz, S. (1953). Sprawa włościańska w powstaniu styczniowym [The Peasant Issue in the 1863 Uprising]. Wrocław: Ossolineum. Kotarbiński, T. (1929). Elementy teorii poznania, logiki formalnej i metodologii nauk [Elements of Theory of Cognition Formal Logic and Methodology of Science]. Lwów: Ossolineum. Łowmiański, H. (1956). Na marginesie zagadnienia praw historii [Side Notes on the Issue of the Laws of History]. Myśl Filozoficzna 4, 170-180. Malewski, A. (1957). Empiryczny sens teorii materializmu historycznego [An Empirical Meaning of the Theory of Historical Materialism]. Studia Filozoficzne 2, 58-81. Mehlberg, H. (1948). Positivisme et science. Studia Philosophica 3, 211-291. Ossowski, S. (1935). Prawa “historyczne” w socjologii [“Historical” Laws in Sociology]. Przegląd Filozoficzny 38, 3-32. Pareto, V. (1945). The Mind and Society. New York: Harcourt. Popper, K. (1935). Logik der Forschung. Vienna: Springer. Popper, K. (1950). The Open Society and Its Enemies. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Rickert, H. (1926). Kulturwissenschaft und Naturwisseschaft. Tuebingen: Mohr. Rickert, H. (1929). Die Grenzen der naturwissenschaftlichen Begriffsbildung. Tuebingen: Mohr. Rickert, H. (1924). Die Probleme der Geschichtsphilosophie. Heidelberg: C. Winter. Rutkowski, J. (1946). Historia gospodarcza Polski, t. I [Economic History of Poland, vol. 1]. Poznań: Księgarnia Akademicka. Schaff, A. (1955). Obiektywny charakter praw historii [The Objective Nature of the Laws of History]. Warszawa: PWN. Sztejnberg, D. (1933). Zagadnienie indeterminizmu na terenie nauk humanistycznych [The Issue of Indeterminism in the Humanities]. Przegląd Filozoficzny 36, 77-106. Tymieniecki, K. (1951). Ziemie polskie w starożytności [Polish Lands in Antiquity]. Poznań: PTPN. Windelband, W. (1915). Geschichte und Naturwissenschaft. Praeludien, vol. II. Tuebingen: Mohr. Zawadzki, T. (1957). Zarys dziejów jedynowładztwa rzymskiego od czasów Tacyta. Wstęp do Dzieł Tacyta [An Outline of History of Roman Authorities since Tacitus’ Times. Introduction to Tacitus’ Works]. In: Tacitus Cornelius, Dzieła, t. 1 [Works, vol. 1], pp. 7-30. Warszawa: Czytelnik.

Stefan Nowak GENERAL LAWS AND HISTORICAL GENERALIZATIONS IN THE SOCIAL SCIENCES *

1. The Limits of Validity of a Generalization A sociologist who has investigated a certain group of people, and analyzed the functioning of a certain number of institutions or social groups, and who then sets out to find a theoretical interpretation of his results, is often faced with a problem which may be defined as the problem of the limits of validity of a generalization. If he wants set up a theory, he needs to formulate his assertions as generally as possible to provide the widest possible validity. If, in addition, he is acquainted with the postulates of the methodology of science, he usually wants his propositions to be universal, free from limitations time and space, so that they may become scientific laws, since he is aware that statements of this type have many particularly valuable theoretical properties. 1 If, on the other hand, the sociologist is cautious, he is also alert the fact that the more the limits of the validity of his theory exceed the investigated reality the greater is the danger of his statement being false. The various types of statements met within the science, analyzed from the point of view of increasing risk of error involved, may be classified as follows: 1. Descriptive generalizations, in which the validity of the statement does not extend beyond the scope of its empirical *

This article is a resume of the first part of the author’s Ph. D. thesis General Laws, Historical Generalizations and Statistical Correlations in the Social Sciences. It was written at the Philosophy Department of the Warsaw University, under the direction of Professor Stanisław Ossowski. The second part of the dissertation was published in Philosophy of Science (1960) with the title “Some Problems of Causal Interpretation of Statistical Relationships.” 1 See: Popper (1959).

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 311-325. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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evidence. It is obvious that in this type of generalization false statements are possible, but here the error may be due to faulty observation of experimental technique to the use of inadequate indicators or inadequate measurement of the phenomena investigated and not to any risk caused by inductive extrapolation. 2. Historical generalizations where the validity of the statement extends beyond the material examined, but where the validity is nevertheless limited by certain time-space co-ordinates or is limited in some other way2 analogous in theoretical outcome. Historical generalizations may be classified into two kinds, according to the degree of risk of error involved: A. Historical generalizations based on material so selected that the sociologist is able to estimate how far his sample is representative of the population which his generalization concerns, and also estimate the chances that his assertions may be false. The case where the method involves the use of a random sample is an example of a situation in which the sociologist is able to formulate a statement on a given population, knowing the size of the risk that his statement may be false. B. Historical generalizations based on material which, although derived from a certain population, is selected in such a way that the probability of error cannot be calculated with any exactitude. Such a situation is well known to historians who try to reconstruct the picture of an epoch on the basis of incomplete archival material. At this stage there obviously exist all the previously mentioned dangers occurring in an analysis of descriptive generalizations. The indicators employed may be inadequate in view of the identified attitudes, while the archival material may be false or mistakenly interpreted. There arises here, however, an issue which does not occur with descriptive generalizations: i.e., they may be false because we have improperly assumed that the material examined is representative also of the material not examined; we were unjustified in assuming that within the boundaries laid down by the time-space co-ordinates of our generalization, the phenomena are uniform in their similarity to our sample.

2

E.g., by giving the singular name of a community or culture for which the generalization is meant to be valid.

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3. Finally, the sociologist may go further, formulating universal propositions, with no time and space limitations and valid for an infinite number of phenomena or defined objects, i.e., universal laws of science. 2. Two Prices to Be Paid for Inductive Errors If the postulate of maximizing empirical proof was the only one used to evaluate scientific statements, it would be necessary from the very start to give up all extrapolatory inductive procedures, particularly in the case of broad generalizations or with generalizations free of time-space limitations. Apart from it, however, we demand parsimony of scientific propositions. It is desirable that the smallest possible number of propositions explains the largest possible number of phenomena. The price to be paid for excessive caution is a lack of parsimony in the formulation of propositions. The propositions might be broad enough to explain or forecast phenomena on a much wider scale than was foreseen by the overcautious investigator, or even to explain or forecast phenomena under all possible conditions, but the investigator had formulated only a descriptive generalization or a historical generalization of narrow scope. Situations occur in which the price of making both errors is relatively measurable and it is comparatively simple to choose the optimal extent of the validity of the generalization. Let us suppose that we intend to undertake a practical action in an unknown area and its success rest upon whether a certain generalization known to us is true for the uninvestigated field as well. The price of over-confidence in the validity of our statement will be the failure of our action (i.e., if the generalization is not true for that field). The price of overcautioussness will be either that additional work will have to be carried out (in spite of the fact the proposition known to us provided sufficient grounds for an action in our field), or that the whole action although important to us will have to be given up. Where we can even roughly estimate the possibility of both kinds of mistakes and the amount of loss in all cases, the decision concerning the extent of the generalization is comparatively simple.3 Such situations are, however, quite rare, and far more frequently the price to be paid for over-cautiousness or overconfidence in the truth of a hypothesis consists in the relatively negligible ups and downs suffered by the research worker on the ladder of scholarly prestige. Therefore it is 3 These two types of errors are well known to statisticians, who call them error of type I and error of type II in statistical inference.

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differences in temperament and “scientific beliefs” rather than more controllable criteria that determine the limits of a generalization formulated on the basis of analysis of a definite type of material. Sociologists tend to be: 1. “empiricists,” who place the main stress on the empirical proof of their propositions, and who systematically collect material to support their hypothesis with a slow and steadily increasing degree of historical universality, 2. “theorists,” who stress the fact that their statements are economical. They formulate universal hypotheses that are valid for an unlimited extent of time-space co-ordinates. They then confirm, modify, or reject these hypotheses, according to the material which they collect more or less accidentally. Both sides agree that science aims at the formulation of statements which have the strongest possible evidence and the widest possible validity but their criteria for determining the limits within which the generalization is valid, and the methods to be used in coming to a decision will depend on which part of this postulate they regard as being the more important. Thus the “theorists” will demand that a universal hypothesis be accepted, since they know of no cases which would disprove it. The “empiricists,” on the other band, will doubt its confirmation since they do not know a sufficient number of cases supporting it in sufficiently varied conditions and over sufficiently wide historical “areas.” This article is an attempt to show that both approaches are equally justified, since each fulfills a different function in constructing the structure of human knowledge. Before, however, we tackle these conclusions, let us consider several difficulties of inductive analysis in the social sciences.

3. Difficulties of Sociological Induction and the Function of Time-Space Coordinates It is sometimes said that the main difficulty of inductive analysis in the social sciences is the high degree of the functionalization of phenomena and the fact that in any situation a great many factors react on each other, and determine the process, or the sequence of phenomena in which we are interested. This is a true observation, and the multivariate character of the consequences and the correlations of social phenomena is a great hindrance to their analysis. Even so, however; I do not see the main

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difficulties for induction in sociology here. I would say the main difficulties are caused by the fact that social phenomena show a tendency to keep an appearing in certain permanent correlated clusters, and these clusters of phenomena have a strong tendency to appear in a relatively definite time-space localization. Both history and cultural anthropology show that in transition from one epoch to another, from one culture to another, whole complex institutions, cultural patterns and human dispositions change. To put it more technically, a sociologist finds himself in great difficulties if, following the canons of John Stuart Mill, he searches far the only agreement and the only difference in order to grasp modo inductivo the causal mechanisms of phenomena under analysis. For he finds too many conformities, too many agreements within the one culture and the one historical period, and too many differences between the various epochs and cultures. Let us now suppose that an investigator wishes to grasp the complete mechanism of a certain regularity occurring, as often happens, only within the framework of a certain culture – i.e., to discover the set of phenomena which determine the functioning of the given regularity because of a certain universal law. Which of the infinitely great number of factors which are the components of the cultural patterns and institutions of that culture are essential from the point of view of that regularity, which are responsible for the fact that the explained phenomena occur there and not elsewhere? Which of the great number of technological, institutional and ideological components of the period of transformation from feudalism to capitalism played an essential role in the emergence and general acceptance of that set of attitudes which Weber called the “spirit of capitalism” and saw personified in Benjamin Franklin? One may judge that some of them did play an essential part here, while the time-space coincidence of others with Puritan ethics was accidental. But which was which? The lack of instances which would fulfill the role of only agreement or only difference means that investigators either refrain completely from answering such question, or provide an answer which rather is in accordance with a certain theoretical-methodological “school” than one dictated by the results of inductive analysis. Let us take another example: it has been discovered that under certain historical conditions (let us call them the conditions of modern West European capitalist civilization) a rise in earnings in a given branch of production brings about a rise in labor productivity – while with other time-space co-ordinates this does not always happen and a rise in earnings sometimes leads to a rise and sometimes to a fall in output. But

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which of the enormous number of elements which go to make u a modern West European capitalist civilization are essential factors in determining these effects, and which are not? The answer to this question is not straightforward. There are two ways out of such a situation: 1. to resign altogether from generalizations, and to build an existential proposition stating that with a rise in earnings there is in some cases a rise in the output of labor; 2. to formulate a historical generalization asserting that in the framework of a modern West European civilization (and here the investigator could define more closely the relevant time-space co-ordinates) a rise in earnings always causes a rise in labor output. These time-space co-ordinates play a substitutive role in our statement – they act as substitutes for those components of the sufficient condition which are unknown to us. They also make the formulation of a true general statement possible. The relations between these additional, missing components of the – sufficient condition and our time-space co-ordinates may be describe as follows: 1. if the generalization has been verified (or at least if it is sufficient: well-founded) for certain co-ordinates, then we can assert that the unknown but significant category of factors appears at least within the limits of these co-ordinates, 2. in addition, if our generalization was disproved beyond the limits of these co-ordinates (or at least for certain areas beyond those limit we can say that at least in these areas where it was disproved some of the essential factors of the generalization do not occur. Thus not only do time-space co-ordinates fulfill substitutive function in historical generalizations, to make up for missing elements of more general relationships, but they also provide certain directives as to the areas in which these elements are missing or present. 4. Universal Laws, Statistical Laws, and Historical Generalizations Suppose now for the sake of simplicity that according to a general law of science A and C are together a sufficient condition for the occurrence of

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B and each of them is for B a necessary condition. We see from these last conclusions that factor C’s “way of occurrence,” and the extent of its time-space limits (C being unknown to the scientist but playing an essential role in producing the effect B) – have important theoretical and methodological implications. If C’s “localization” is such that it is a characteristic or acts upon all the A’s within certain define time-space coordinates – then we may formulate a true historical generalization of the following type: “Within the historical limits H, A produces (or is followed by) B – even where C’s causal effect on B is unknown to us.” Let us analyze further the different “ways of occurrence or existence” of the unknown factor C and follow up their consequences for the theoretical character of the propositions under analysis. The different “ways of existence of C” may be classified as follows: 1. The unknown but causally important factor C is a characteristic of (or acts upon) all phenomena of class A within all the possible time-space co-ordinates. If this is the case, then the scientist may formulate a general scientific law of the type “every A is followed by B,” and the empirical evidence will confirm this formulation even if from the point of view of its theoretical structure it is not perfect. 2. The factor C may be a characteristic of or act upon all objects belonging to class A but only within some defined time-space limits H, when outside these limits it occurs irregularly or it does not occur at all. The upper limit of empirically conformable generalization is the level of historical generalization valid for coordinates H, and every generalization the validity of which extents beyond these limits will be false unless the causal connection between C and B is discovered, what makes possible the modification of our generalization by supplementing it by the factor C. 3. The factor C may be a characteristic of or act upon some objects of class A, but it occurs in a special way; for every A the probability of its being AC is the same (or – in other words – in every sufficiently large sample of objects of the class A, the proportion of AC to A will be roughly the same). In this case the upper limit of confirmable generalization is a universal statistical law stating that for every A there is a certain probability p that it will be followed by B. 4. Finally it is also possible that the kind of “statistical coexistence” between A and C described above may occur only within some historical co-ordinates, when outside these co-

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ordinates C does not occur. In this case the upper limit of empirically valid generalization is the level of historical statistical generalization, i.e., the proposition stating that within given historical limits the probability that A will be followed by B is equal to p.

5. Existential Propositions and Propositions on the Statistical Relationships between Variables Let us assume now that none of the situations described above occurs. In this case the scientist cannot say either: a) where A is followed by B, or b) how often A is followed by B, or c) where and how often A is followed by B. So one might suspect that in this case there is no generalization possible at all, that the upper limit of empirically confirmable knowledge is in this case the level of existential proposition of the type: A is sometimes followed by B, or A sometimes causes B. But this is happily not always true and in some cases the scientist can formulate a statement on the existence of a positive statistical relationship (or a positive correlation if they are quantitative variables) between A and B. When can he do so? Which kind of “coexistence” between A and C is here necessary? Let us assume here that AC (being a sufficient condition of B) is not a necessary condition for the occurrence of B, that some other alternative causes of B exist, namely D1 , D2 , . . . , Dn . In this case there will always be a positive correlation between A and B, when the probability of the occurrence of C when A occurs is greater than the probability of D1 ,+ D2 , . . . , + Dn ’s occurrence when non-A occurs. But this situation happens rather often. For example it always occurs, when AC and all other alternative causes are statistically independent or positively correlated. It also occurs when the relative frequency of D1 , . . . , Dn within the limits of: non-A is relatively small. The considerations permit us to add to our typology of the previous chapter three additional types of situation. 5. If the probability of C occurring when A occurs is greater than the probability of any alternative causes of B occurring when nonA occurs for any time-space area, then the upper limit of valid generalization is a universal correlational proposition. The

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scientist cannot say how often A is followed by B but he is justified it saying that the occurrence A increases the probability of occurrence B. 6. If the same is true only far some time-space co-ordinates while in the other ones the high relative frequency of D1 , D2 , . . . , Dn for non-A is the cause of a spurious statistical independence between A and B or even produces a negative correlation between them,4 the scientist may formulate only a historical correlational proposition stating that within same time-space co-ordinates H the occurrence of A increases the probability of occurrence of B, whereas in other co-ordinates this relationship cannot be found. But it is well known that a great number of statements in the social sciences concern the existence of correlations between variables. If the perceived correlation is not a spurious one,5 it is equivalent to the assertion that A is an essential component of one of the many possible sufficient conditions of B, while we are not in a position to show either the remaining components of the same sufficient condition or the other sufficient conditions; we cannot therefore state either when or in what conditions A causes B or in what conditions the non-occurrence of A causes the non-occurrence of B. Statements in the form of correlation are therefore far from being theoretically perfect statements. 7. Finally – when none of the “ways of coexistence” between the different alternative causes of B described above is true, even for a limited historical area – the scientist must formulate an existential proposition stating that “A is sometimes followed by B” unless the discovery of C and its effect on B permits him to reach more theoretically satisfactory generalizations.

6. The Theoretical and Historical Generality of Sociological Statements An investigator whose point of departure is a comparatively strongly founded historical generalization may be able to increase the extent of its 4 A more detailed analysis of this effect of positive correlation between the result B and each of its alternative causes, is given in the aforesaid article (1960). 5 The term ‘spurious correlation’ refers, as we know, to situations where two statistically interdependent variables are not causally related to each other, but have only a common cause. Spurious independence means, that there is a causal connection between variables which is not reflected in their statistical relationship, see Nowak (1960).

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validity by discovering new factors previously unknown and to extend the scope of the time-space co-ordinates in new areas of social reality. In this way he obtains a statement varying from the previous one by the group of factors which did not figure in the previously formulated generalization and by the degree of its historical generality. On the other band the investigator may, and often does, discover more general statements, even though no change has occurred in the extent of their time-space co-ordinates. Thus it may happen that two historical generalizations or two universal laws are only specifications for two different sets of conditions of a certain generalization or of a certain law that is theoretically more general than they are, in spite of the fact that the scope of their historical co-ordinates (both in their existence and in their lack) has not undergone any change. Here is an example. “The American Soldier” research group carried out during the last war experiments on the effectiveness of the propaganda of a series of films including that entitled “The Battle of Britain.” The results derived from this experiment could have been on various levels of generality: 6 1. 2. 3. 4.

The The The The

level level level level

of of of of

the film in question, the film propaganda, mass media, the basic learning processes.

In this example the phenomena of the lower level in each case form a sub-division of the phenomena of the higher level. If the authors had succeeded in formulating a generalization on the phenomena of all these four levels it might have appeared that the laws of the lower, less general levels were specific cases of the working of the laws of the more general levels and that the set of statements concerning them created an internally connected many-layered construction where laws of the higher level were the premises and the laws of the lower level – their conclusions. With such a theory we should have four sets or statements differing in their theoretical generality. It may happen, however, that their historical generality is the same. Cautious authors, having no experience of the war beyond the American Army and aware how much human psychology changes under conditions of war, could quite successfully treat the statements of all four levels as being different in their theoretical generality but equal in their historical generality as historical generalizations valid for the U.S. army under the condition of the Second World War. 6

See Hovland et al. (1949).

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This case although theoretically possible is usually rather rare because the laws of the lower theoretical level are usually more multivariable than their more general theoretical premises. But being more multivariable they are more dependent in their functioning or any change in historical conditions, and the lack of an (unknown) factor in a new “historical” area limits their validity more often than is the case with more abstract, theoretically more general, propositions that are compose of not so many factors. So we see that there is a positive correlation between the theoretical and historical generality of a proposition although there are many exceptions to this rule. This means that the more abstract, the more theoretically general is a proposition which has been formulated and verified for a historically defined sample, the greater is the chance that it will not be falsified when the historical conditions change. Thus, for example the psychologist studying the learning processes is more justified in believing, as he often does, that his generalizations will hold for other historical samples, than the sociologist analyzing the functioning of social institutions in some area. The observation that contemporary theoretical writers formulate theses of universal validity is rather the result of “an understanding analysis” of literature mainly dealing with so-called social psychology than a logical conclusion drawn from it, since most authors of experiment; works who wish to verify more abstract hypotheses rarely give a quantifier defining the degree of universality of their hypotheses They rarely explain if they regard them as hypotheses valid for an timespace co-ordinates, or only for some and certain kinds. Such a lack of a “universal quantifier” or of a “historical quantifier” means that these statements if taken literally are not subject to empirical control. Such an “understanding analysis” of these statements, however leads to the conclusion that the authors regard these statements more as universal statements than as historical theses. But this makes desirable, even indispensable, that in the social sciences all statements are equipped with a relevant quantifier so that it should not be necessary to subject them to such an interpretation before testing their validity.

7. The Historical and Universal Approach to Inductive Analysis in the Social Sciences Our considerations up to this point may be formulated as follows:

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1. It is a characteristic of social reality that (both owing to its historical development and to the “geographical” difference of cultures) certain complicated clusters of phenomena have a tendency to occur together or not to occur together. 2. This fact hinders the discovery of more general regularities and (at this stage of the development of knowledge) forces the investigator often to formulate historical generalizations with time-space co-ordinates in certain societies or spheres of cultural uniformities. 3. The lower the level of theoretical generality of a given statement, the more is it usually multivariable, and the greater is the possibility that, formulated as a statement with wide historical application or a universal thesis, it will be false. It would then seem to be a practical necessity that when using induction, the sociologist should proceed from narrow to increasingly wider spheres of cultural collaboration, founding theses with an increasingly wide historical scope and simultaneously of a higher and higher level of theoretical generality. This would be the only correct approach if the investigator’s only concern was the maximum empirical evidence of his statements, the maximum certainty of his prediction. There are situations in which the highest possible degree of certainty of his predictions is the investigator’s only concern. This is always the case when the statements of some branch of science are to be the point of departure for some important practical human action. In such situations it would seem that the only sound method is that “historical induction” presented above. A politician who has to conduct an election campaign for his party with the aid of a certain poster is usually little interested in the general processes of picture propaganda or in the mechanism of the general theory of learning; he is much more interested in the way the citizens of his country react to that placard, irrespective of how far that reaction is universal, and of how many specific local factors jointly determine that reaction. Experience in various branches of science has shown, however, that it is sometimes worthwhile not to hanker too pedantically after maximum empirical evidence but to permit the play of originality and imagination of scientific minds. The building of scientific knowledge is not a pyramid in which the solid foundation of the blocks of the lower floors are indispensable for the construction of the higher ones. It often happens that by the use of his imagination the investigator discovers some very general law of very high theoretical level, for which tedious and

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systematic observations had provided no clues. It may also happen that the application of such hypotheses in the interpretation of systematicallyfounded historical generalizations can enable us to understand their mechanism – to differentiate essential from non-essential factors their mechanism – to differentiate essential from non-essential factors and give general meaning to these historical generalizations or, the extend their historical validity. In this situation where a certain universal thesis has been shown to be false, the more practically-minded investigator will decide that it is preferable to turn it into a historical generalization, if it is possible, since it will at least serve for a certain limited area. A more theoreticallyinclined investigator, however, may find it more useful to change such a falsified general hypothesis into an existential proposition stating that the expected effects only sometimes occur when a given cause occurs, for he will be of the opinion that the existence of statements this type acts as a powerful stimulus in the search for the lacking conditions under which these effects always do occur. The postulate of the economy of scientific statements, the postulate that the greatest number of circumstances should be covered by the least number of statements, which was discussed at the beginning of this article, brings the investigator into continual collision with the postulate of minimum risk that his statement be false, but at the same time leads in effect to the discovery of more and more general laws of nature and of social phenomena. An investigator who prefers the “universal” way of thinking and the universal approach to the analysis of social phenomena has every right to say that he accepts given propositions because they have not been falsified by empirical evidence. He must, however, be continually aware that between a systematically confirmed statement and statement which has not yet been disproved, or, to put it more precisely, between a hypothesis and a thesis, there may and often does exist an essential difference, namely that the risk of error is frequently in strict proportion to the degree of the universality of his statements – even though a risk may be justified by the final results of the theoretical thinking.

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8. Conclusions In this article I have tried to trace the consequences of two postulates by which scientific investigation is directed, namely the postulate of maximum empirical evidence and the postulate of parsimony (of maximum generality) in scientific statements. I have not pointed out that in the separate stages of a sociologist’s investigation these postulates are often conflicting – the one often demands recognition of strict historical limitations in the formulation of statements, while the other demands their greatest possible extension. In this situation theoretically-general hypotheses formulated as universal laws often arouse doubts as to the degree to which they hold true, and historical generalizations are often much less interesting in the theoretical implications. The investigator must then often choose between the postulate of minimum risk of error and that of theoretical invention. It is a matter of secondary importance whether this choice made differently by different investigators, or whether the same people, depending on different demands of the situation, will sometimes put more stress on the theoretical invention of their thinking, or in other cases stress the importance of the highest possible probability of their predictions. Moreover, I have tried to prove that the extent of the validity of our propositions is determined not only or more “theoretical” or more “historical” orientation of the investigator but is also determined by the kind of “historical” or “statistical” coexistence between the variables analyzed. In particular, I had to prove that the kind of historical or statistical coexistence between an unknown and a known cause determines the upper limit of the valid generalizations – unless these unknown causes are discovered. Finally, I have to distinguish two different aspects of generality of social propositions, namely the theoretical and the historical generality of statements, showing how the two aspects are related to each other, although their correlation is far from being perfect. The main conclusions of this paper may be formulated as follows: 1. At this stage of development of the social sciences, both theoretical analysis and verification should be conducted on all possible levels of theoretical and historical generality. Neither the lack of sufficient generality nor the risk of error should be treated as the source of frustration for the investigator. 2. It appears that a serious effort should be mark to seek logical connections between the propositions on different levels of

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historical and theoretical generality in order to look for more convincing evidence and better proof of general laws and for a better understanding of the mechanism of the functioning of historically limited principles governing events. To express this in more general terms, it seems that diversity of approach should be accompanied by increasing consistency of the structure of sociological knowledge. REFERENCES Hovland, C., A. Lumsdaine and F. Sheffield (1949). Experiments on Mass Communication. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Nowak, S. (1960). Some Problems of Causal Interpretation of Statistical Relationships. Philosophy of Science 27, 23-38. Popper, K. (1959). The Logic of Scientific Discovery. New York: Basic Books.

Stanisław Ossowski TWO CONCEPTIONS OF HISTORICAL GENERALIZATIONS 1. Historical and Typological Categories in Inductive Reasoning In studying the adequacy of generalizations, two questions are involved: the range of the class covered by the generalization, from the point of view of general properties (e.g., whether inhabitant of a town, or man in general, a human being, or a living organism), and the necessity of narrowing the denotation of certain propositions by historical boundaries. The problem of cultural determinants involves both these questions. For each culture is a historical product, its distinctness is the result of certain happenings which took place in a certain place and time: but simultaneously individual cultures may be treated as examples of different types of environment, and therefore as variables which can be taken into consideration in inductive generalizations which have the character of “natural law.” The same can be said of cultural products and social groups that have been formed in the process of history. We may treat Romantic poetry as a certain type of creative works without at all limiting ourselves to the Romantic period of Schiller, Byron, and Mickiewicz. The modern nation may be treated as a particular historical category, a product of historically formed ideologies, a product of the historical heritage, which derives from certain social events in the history of Europe and from the creative work of certain individuals. But we may likewise treat the modern nation as a sociological category whose range, depending on definition, may cover certain communities in mediaeval and classical times, and not only communities That have emerged against the background of European culture. In a letter to the Editor of “Otećestvenye Zapiski” in November 1877, Marx makes fun of one of his critics who treats Marx’s picture of the history of the emergence of capitalism in Western Europe as a general theory applying to the development of all kinds of societies. To us at this moment it is of no

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 327-336. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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importance whether or not some of Marx’s earlier statements gave rise to such a wide interpretation. On the other hand historical determinants are not confined to the cultural heritage; we may also have to do with them in connection with biological heritage. The individual races or groups of mixed-races can be treated both historically and as “species,” and the limitation of a generalization on social phenomena to one or another anthropological group may be both a historical, and a typological limitation. There is one reason why I should like to pause again to consider the often discussed difference between so-called laws of natural character and historical generalizations. It seems to me that the hitherto generally accepted way of regarding historical generalizations, that is, the way we come across, for example, in Kotarbiński’s Elementy logiki formalnej [Elements of Formal Logic], the way which I subscribed to in work of mine published in 1935 Prawa “historyczne” w socjologii [“Historical” Laws in Sociology], as well as Stefan Nowak in his essay on General Laws and Historical Generalizations in the Social Sciences,1 is not a useful one when applied to attempts at the systematization of generalizations where one takes into account the supposed connections between variables: the use of time and space co-ordinates is not usually dictated by the conviction that these space and time co-ordinates have any essential significance from the point of view of these connections. For this reason I should like to suggest another conception of historical generalizations, one which appears to me more useful in any consideration of inductive problems in the social sciences, particularly the problem of cultural determination. 2. Space and Time Co-Ordinates in General Statements The problem of general historical statements in the social sciences arose as a result of the difficulties encountered by Rickert’s fascinatingly simple segregation of the sciences into idiographic and nomothetic when applied to concrete cases, that is, to the diverse scientific disciplines and to the problems in those disciplines. According to that system, sociology was supposed to be the nomothetic equivalent of the idiographic history of human societies, just as psychology was the nomothetic equivalent of idiographic biography. The two groups of sciences – despite 19th century tradition neither group was supposed to have the monopoly of being a science were radically opposed to each other. Namely the nomothetic 1

Nowak (1961), reprinted in this volume, pp. 313-327.

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sciences were held to aim at general laws, while the idiographic sciences aimed at the establishment of existential statements. This was thought to produce a perfect dichotomy. Meanwhile it soon became apparent that this dichotomy was untenable, whether the social roles of the historian and sociologist were concerned, or the character of the scientific works of one field or the other, or the category of statements aimed at by scientific research. It would be easy to maintain the dichotomic division of sciences if one were concerned only with the old style of history, the kind of history which flourished under the patronage of the muse Cleo, armed with a clapsydra to determine chronology and a trumpet to praise great deeds, the kind of history that dealt with kings, heroes and wars. This dichotomy could be maintained if historical statements could be confined to existential statements such as was the usual practice in the early interpretations of Rickert’s dichotomy. But forty or fifty years before Dilthey’s and Rickert’s theories were published, other ways of dealing with history were already being adopted. The positivist historians tried to introduce the “biological point of view” into history; Marx applied the historical point of view to the whole of science, and in his German Ideology declared that “we recognize only one science – the science of history.” But to both the positivist and the Marxist historians, one of the traits marking “scientific history” was, as we have seen, the search for causal explanations of whole classes of phenomena. The subject of “social history,” economic history, the history of culture, the history of customs, not to speak of pre-history, is not individual events. Realization of this fact and maintenance of the distinction between nomothetic and historical sciences necessarily led to rejection of the view that the term ‘general historical’ contains a contradiction in adiecto, and to the breaking up of this dichotomy by introducing this very category of statements between historical existential statements on the one hand, and general ahistorical statements, that is, statements with unlimited application, on the other. As far as historical generalizations were concerned it was necessary to take another criterion of the statement being a historical one, than the individual subject of the statement.2 Space and time co-ordinates delineating the boundaries of the phenomena covered by the generalization became this criterion. It is true that in order to preserve the dichotomy, general statements whose validity is limited in space and time may be reduced to existential 2

See Ossowski (1935), p. 9.

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statements, by adding the individual subject – the name of the period or the population to which the generalization refers. But this formal criterion does not suit those who are interested in types of people, and who within the definite limits of space and time draw generalizations by the inductive method, in the same way as those who through the inductive method reach general statements formulated without any limitations of space or time. Both in the one case and the other, general statements are not the equivalents of conjunctions of previously determined statements. As far as sociologists are concerned, all generalizations based on representative samples are such historical inductive propositions. Space and time co-ordinates limiting generalizations based on inductive reasoning may suit diverse purposes, depending on the situation. They may be an expression of interest in some concrete period. For example, someone who studies the position of the working class in Britain in the early 1840s, or someone who is interested in the customs of the Polish gentry in the 17th century, in the mentality of the Polish Bohemia in the 1890s, or in the religious attitudes of peasants in post-war France, describes by his generalizations the period of which he is the historian. In this case the space and time co-ordinates are the outcome of the task he has set himself. In the case of a person who is not a historian of a given period but, a student of a given community, the time and space co-ordinates of his generalizations may be justified empirically as dates when the given community appeared, or disappeared, or altered; they are therefore secondary co-ordinates with regard to the category of phenomena that constitute the subject of the generalizations because of the causal connections between them. For example, in general judgments concerning early Christianity, generalizations refer to the early ancient Christian community, and the space and time co-ordinates – the Mediterranean word between 50 AD and 313 AD – are derived from the fact that the community existed only in that area and only in that period of time, if we regard this period as coming to an end when Christianity became the religion officially recognized by the State after the Edict of Constantine. In other cases, as we know, the space and time co-ordinates are an expression of the scholar’s caution. For if he were able, he would be tempted to make wider generalizations. The space and time co-ordinate provide the information that the material forming the foundation of his generalizations has been collected within certain limited space an time boundaries, and that within these boundaries there is not a great enough

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diversity as to permit the appropriate use of Mill’s method; Since these boundaries are the outcome of chance circumstances – for example, the technical possibilities in collecting the material – the research worker is aware that in all probability his generalization is to narrow, and time and space co-ordinates cannot be used in causal explanation. As our knowledge increases, such space and time co-ordinates can be reduced, just as in a-historical generalizations the generic attributes of the subject can be reduced when new experience shows that the law was formulated too narrowly. In the article referred to above, Stefan Nowak drew a parallel between the processes of widening the application of generalizations in both categories of statement. 3. Relatively Isolated Systems As a rule no attention is paid to the fact that the concept of general historical statements may cover not only statements about elements of a set of phenomena or objects, a set enclosed within definite space and time boundaries. They may also cover all kinds of statements about the elements of this set demarcated by any historical terms. The space and time co-ordinates here do not necessarily have to denote the space and time boundaries of the given set. As an example of a set demarcated historically but not demarcated by space and time boundaries, we may cite a set of the ancestors and descendants of Charlemagne, or any other historical figure. The category of historical generalizations which surely is much more important to methodological questions than the category of statement colloquially connected with the term ‘historical generalizations’ will be contrasted here with a-historical generalizations (generic generalizations, generalizations which are of the type of natural laws not with regard to the space and time co-ordinates limiting the set of phenomena or objects to which they refer, but with regard to the dependence of all the elements of the set on some historical event or events such a led to a system isolated in one respect or another. These are generalizations within the boundaries of a relatively isolated system of phenomena. With such historical generalizations we do not need to take into account any other limitations of space or time than the date when our isolated system came into being. But when we speak of a relatively isolated system we have in mind only the boundaries marking the influence of a certain historical event. These boundaries are not usually constant – when the influences

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extend their boundaries, the isolated system expands, and may become an exceedingly expansive system. The historical events in relation to which we treat a collection as a relatively isolated system may be of various types. We may have a mutation of genes producing homo sapiens as distinct from Neanderthal man; we may have an invasion by an alien tribe, leading to a mixture of race or the formation of a certain kind of caste structure; we may have the appearance of a book of great influence, such as the Vedas, the Bible, the Koran, the Roman Codes, or the Communist Manifesto; we may have the apostolic mission of St. Paul or Ghandi, or the emergence of a certain institution, such as the Chinese Empire, or an event such as the birth of the French Republic, the Declaration of American Independence, or the outbreak of the Russian Revolution. In other words, what we are here concerned with is the uniqueness of certain historical processes, caused by some biological or social heritage, such at the influence of certain genes. the influence of the Bible (not necessarily directly), or the influence of the ideology of the French Revolution or of Marxism. In order to free oneself, in seeking general laws, from having to reckon with genetic factors or general explanations containing individual terms, one must reach beyond the boundaries of the relatively isolated system of phenomena (e.g., beyond the boundaries of Christian civilization or beyond the influence of the European revolutions in the 17 th and 18 th centuries). 4. General Hypotheses When we do this and reach beyond the boundaries of a genetically isolated system, we again have to do with historical hypotheses. With regard to both biological and cultural inheritance, when we have to do with matters that reach further back in time than recorded history, we can set up three different kinds of hypotheses on the origin of the same range of phenomena: A) universal monogenesis (common origin of the various lines), B) polygenesis, where the monogenetic separateness of the various lines is preserved (genetically independent lines, C) polygenesis with polygenetic lines which may differ in origin to a greater or lesser degree.

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This is illustrated graphically in the following figure.

A

B

C

These three simple diagrams may be combined into more complicated systems which take various kinds of historical intricacies into account. We may cite as examples conflicting hypotheses regarding the origin of Human, the origin of human languages, the origin of belief in life beyond the grave, or myths on the creation of the world. If we accept the hypothesis as to the monogenesis of the human race, the whole field of phenomena examined by sociologists, psychologists, and anthropologists may be looked as one isolated historical system, and all the generalizations within this system will then be historical generalizations. To all those who take the myth of Adam and original sin as true, all theses about human behavior are historical theses in a double sense – first because of the biological heritage common to all people as descendants of the first man and woman, and secondly because everyone in that case is burdened with all the consequences of original sin, which was a historical event par excellence. To those who do not believe in the Garden of Eden and original sin, but take into account the influence of the biblical myth on culture and on human personality, the human race does not constitute one historical system, but a common historical system covers all people in the past, present, or future, who come within the influence of biblical culture. The myth about the separation human languages after the building of the tower of Babel likewise come under type A, whereas certain theories as to the emergence of secondary races as mixed races which became endogamous groups, would come under heading C. This was the explanation given for the somatic seclusion of the Hottentots or the somatic seclusion of the Christian inhabitants of the former Portuguese colony of Goa. This same diagram may be applied to the Indian castes if we presuppose perfect endogamy. In the sphere of culture it can be applied to the formation of relatively isolate religious systems which in various ways combine many different commonly held traditions. Or it can be applied to language systems with to a certain

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extent, a common polygenesis, if we leave out of account later reciprocal influences between those systems. An attempt to remove the historical co-ordinates is methodologically legitimate, only on the basis of a hypothesis as to the separate origin of mutually isolated systems forming the field of comparative study. If it is taken that there is no diffusion between these systems, then identical, cultural elements; identical forms of behavior in certain condition which occur in two or more isolated systems, may provide inductive material for the setting up of propositions without historical co-ordinate (or without historical co-ordinates of the given scale). One example of this is the similarity between the dynamic rock paintings of the Bushmen, and the cave paintings found in Catalonia, dating back to early palaeolithic times.3 The rather fantastic hypothesis as to a cultural or even a racial link between the modern Bushmen and the palaeolithic inhabitants of the Catalonian grottoes has been weakened by the discovery of similar dynamic figures in the rock paintings of other parts of the globe – in Australia, for example. Isolated historical systems differ in extent, according to the category of phenomena studied, and according to the historical facts underlying their origin. With respect to the influence of cultural inheritance, independent cultures, if they exist, are isolated historical systems. If we have to do with only certain elements of the cultural heritage, then w may have a case of systems that are isolated from each other only in the some respect. From the point of view of biological heritage; it may be said that in some respects homo sapiens, that is, the whole of the human race in existence today is such an isolated historical system. A wider isolate historical system – if we reject the hypothesis as to the cosmic origin of life on earth – is our world of living beings, seen from the point of view of the theory of evolution. To the physicist, the universe, if regarded as monogenic, may be an isolated historical system. The historical generalizations in the interpretation proposed by the author become extended not when we extend the space and time coordinates, but when we carry our research to a wider system of phenomena, a system which is treated as a relatively isolated one. For instance, if we have to do with conditioning by the cultural heritage, or historical generalization will be extended in scope if we pass from Christian culture, for example, to such a relatively isolated system as 3 The paintings referred to here are of quite a different kind from the famous much later palaeolithic drawings of animals in the Altamira grotto and in the caves of southern France.

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covers all cultures which are in some way dependent on the Old Testament hence including the Judaistic, Manichaean, Mahometan, or Karaite culture. If we attempt to explain social phenomena by means of human physiology, our generalizations go beyond all the systems of cultural heritage, and, following in the footsteps of Pavlov, make use of physiological explanations based on experiments with animals; and we go beyond historical generalizations connected with the isolated system produced by historical mutation which led to the emergence of homo sapiens. 5. Historical Relationships and General Categories If we assume that we can reduce all the historical characteristics of some isolated system of phenomena to typical characteristics, and instead of speaking of conditioning by the cultural heritage of the Old Testament, or of Greek tragedy or of the French Revolution, we can speak about the cultural heritage of one type or another; if instead of historical cultures we take social conditions into account, treating cultures of the Jainist or Puritan type in the same way as pastoral or agricultural cultures, or if we decide that instead of speaking of the result of historical mutation, which led to the emergence of homo sapiens, we may speak of various changes in the chemistry of the genes, or if we agree to describe that historical human species only in terms of type, without bothering about its origin – then the historical generalizations made within the boundaries of a relatively isolated system will become a hypothesis of unlimited range like the laws of the natural science – a hypothesis concerning type of phenomena. If, however, the empirical data on which the generalization is based are contained exclusively in the isolated system, and if it is possible to compare these data with data outside that system, the transfer from historical generalization to general hypothesis does not correspond to the rules of induction. If, on the other hand, we have no access to empirical data apart from the isolated system, then the question of whether we formulate our generalization in the form of a historical generalization or general hypothesis is of no practical significance. In these circumstances, a hypothesis in a general form extending beyond our isolated system, if it is interpreted as an elliptic statement in which the boundaries limiting the range of the phenomena included are self-evident, may yet have metaphysical sense connected with the Platonian assumption that objects have constant ideal form, or the tomistic assumption that the number of

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species is constant; or it may be an analytic statement arising out of a definition (e.g., if in the nebula of Andromeda there are anthropoids whose behavior is not in agreement with our generalization, then these creatures are not human); or finally, the general thesis becomes qualified with the once fashionable phrase ceteris paribus, which conceals its historical character; and at the same time removes the threat of empirical evidence against it, as well as deprives it of empirical usefulness. REFERENCES Nowak, S. (1961). General Laws and Historical Generalizations in the Social Sciences. Polish Sociological Bulletin 1, 20-32. Ossowski, S. (1935). Prawa “historyczne” w socjologii [“Historical” Laws in Sociology]. Przegląd Filozoficzny 38, 3-32.

Jan Such SCIENTIFIC LAW VERSUS HISTORICAL GENERALIZATION. AN ATTEMPT AT AN EXPLICATION

The explications of the concept of a historical generalization and that of a scientific law presented below result from a critical consideration of various notions of historical generalization, and of the contentious issues concerning its epistemological status and its relation to the scientific law. The explications deal exclusively with those aspects of the two notions that are related to their mutual relation and hence affect the demarcation between the scientific law and historical generalization. The explications will concern mainly the sort of universality that is represented by the two types of general statements distinguished in science. First of all, I believe that it is reasonable to support the arguments of those who include into the class of historical generalizations (and, respectively, historical statements in general) not only the sentences regarding bygone reality, but also the sentences whose scope of applicability contains, e.g., future events that have not occurred yet. Not every historical sentence must concern bygone facts. For example, historical prognosis can refer to “historical” reality which is located completely in the future. On that score, I neither perceive nor postulate any fundamental (decisive) difference between the historical generalization and scientific law. The only difference occurring in this respect is the difference indicating the “average type” of the two mentioned statements: scientific laws frequently encompass the ontologically open classes of phenomena, i.e., they also encompass future phenomena, whereas historical generalizations include the ontologically closed classes of phenomena, i.e., exclusively completed phenomena. This refers mainly to the laws that are formulated in the so-called theoretical sciences, as opposed to laws in historical sciences. In the case of the former, it would even be difficult to imagine a situation in which laws concerned the phenomena, described in typological, theoretical and

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 337-350. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2009.

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general terms, that occurred in the past but ceased to occur at some point in time. Such situations cannot be completely excluded; they could occur, for example if the value of “universal constants” appeared to be changeable, e.g., dependent on the “age of the universe” or if nature were subject to irreversible and unrepeatable evolution. In principle, I do not see why the laws regarding solely bygone reality should not be formulated in any branch of learning (always non-empty fulfilled in the future). It seems that the time in which the events subject to a given statement occur should not play a crucial role in the division of general statements into laws and historical generalizations. Irrespective of the case at hand, the law may even concern the class of occurrences taking place in one epoch, i.e., the occurrences grouped within a certain closed interval of time. On the other hand, the epoch may be a part of other past epochs, whereas every exemplification of the law may be the known occurrence that came into being (either in the past or presence). At this point, we should differentiate between the present and total scopes of the law and discuss laws irrespectively of whether or not they are at present non-empty fulfilled in some areas and whether the scope of their applicability is encompassed completely in the sphere of the past, or whether it also includes, as it is usually the case, smaller or larger areas of the future. The more fundamental difference (even though its significance is also not conclusive) between historical generalizations (or, to be more precise, between a certain category of historical generalizations) and scientific laws refers to the problem of the epistemological openness of the classes determining their scope. Not every law needs to concern the types of phenomena that constitute the epistemologically open class (i.e., the class also including unknown phenomena). Nevertheless, if it is to be a strictly general law, it should be formulated in a way that would not indicate whether its scope of non-empty fulfillment is included in the closed space-time or concerns the epistemologically closed class (encompassing known phenomena exclusively). On the other hand, historical generalization cannot only refer to the epistemologically closed class of phenomena, but at the same time it should be formulated in a manner indicating that its scope of non-empty fulfillment includes only the known phenomena belonging to the finite area of the past (reporting statements, which are the result of the application of full induction, are of the same nature). In view of the above, it is evident that neither epistemological nor ontological openness constitutes the distinctive trait of the scientific law that would differentiate it from historical generalization. As a

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consequence, it can be claimed that not every law performs (it needs to be able to perform) directly a previdistic function in the broad sense, i.e., it serves as an essential theoretical premise of certain prognostic, diagnostic or retrospective reasoning (postgnosis) related to the phenomena that are included in the scope of the law, yet not cognized so far. The historical generalization does not have to perform such a function either (and does not perform it if it is a reporting generalization). For this reason, not every law needs to serve the purpose of predicting future phenomena, i.e., to perform the prognostic function in the narrower sense. In this respect, both the discrepancy and similarity between the law and historical generalization can be briefly expressed, contradicting certain current conceptions on this subject, by the statement that laws do not need to perform a previdistic function either in the broad or in the narrow sense of this term, even though they often do. On the contrary, historical generalizations can perform such functions, though it is not typical of them. Besides, the difference between the law and historical generalization cannot lie in the principle that the law always concerns an infinite number of phenomena or facts (“cases”), whereas in the case of generalization the number is always finite. It may appear that both the law and the generalization encompass a finite number of phenomena. Obviously, a very significant difference between them is the result of the number of cases that they concern: laws usually deal with a broader class of phenomena than historical generalizations do. However, a clear line of demarcation as regards the number of cases to which the law or historical generalization should refer does not exist. It is often claimed that, being a numerically general statement, historical generalization is equivalent to the finite class of singular statements, whereas such equivalence cannot be attributed to the law, which is a strictly general statement. However, it is not excluded that the infinite number of cases to which a given law refers can be encompassed in the finite space-time area. Thus, numerical infinity (“numerical openness”) of the scope of the statement as such cannot prove its strict generality, though it is obvious that a sentence that has a numerically infinite scope is not equivalent to any finite class of singular statements. On the other hand, it may happen that a strictly general statement concerns exclusively a finite (and at the same time not very numerous) class of phenomena; however, it cannot ensue from the sense of the included terms that it either refers solely to phenomena that are closed in a certain finite area or that the number of phenomena is constrained. Thus, in principle, the strictly general statement can be equivalent to a

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finite class of singular sentences, although taking into account its strict generality and consequently the indefinite number and area of the occurrences of the cases to which it refers, the strictly general statement can in fact never be regarded as equivalent to a conjunction of singular sentences whose number is specified, finite and can be determined beforehand. Thus, the condition of nonequivalence of the general statement to the finite number of the class of singular sentences cannot be regarded as the condition allowing an adequate explication of the notion of strict generality. A question arises whether the type of generality could be recognized, as it is usually the case, as the criterion on the basis of which one differentiates between the scientific law and historical generalization. The answer is that this criterion is a basic one. However, in some cases it can appear to be fallible. Following S. Ossowski, one may include into historical generalizations the type of generalization concerning genetic sequences (of historically determined sets) that can also extend into the remote future and whose spatial and temporal determinants (in the regular sense) cannot be given to specify more or less precisely the boundaries of the space-time areas in which those sequences are encompassed. Hence, according to such an assumption, some of these generalizations should be regarded as strictly general statements. Not always does the sense of terms used in generalizations fulfill the conditions that are attributed to numerically general terms, i.e., enabling the determination of the space-time area in which their designates occur, as well as the calculation all of the designates and claiming that they all are figured. Providing an example of a historically determined set (which is called a “genetic sequence” or “isolated system”), in contrast to the set determined by means of space-time coordinates, Ossowski presents “the set of the ancestors and descendants of the Charlemagne or any other historical figure” or “the set of the events influenced by the Old Testament.” 1 Thus, it should be stated that the historical generalization is not always represented by the type of numerically general statements. On the other hand, it is a well-known fact that not every law is a strictly general statement; it may happen that proper names, space-time determinants or other expressions of this type, that restrict the scope, are encountered in some laws. For this reason one should admit that the scope of laws is determined by means of numerically general terms exclusively. However, the difference regarding the type of the generalization, though it does not have the universal value with reference to the discussed division, is certainly one of the main differences between 1

Ossowski (1964), pp. 19-20, reprinted in this volume, pp. 329-338.

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the majority of laws and historical generalizations. Undoubtedly, scientific laws are classified as the strictly general statements in the majority of cases, whereas historical generalizations are mainly numerically general statements. Another difference that is closely connected with the previous one and allows a partial explication of the notions of the law and historical generalization concerns yielding the conditions that are sufficient for their non-empty fulfillment. The full formulation of laws in the form of a conditional (implication) provides the conditions (a sufficient condition in the majority of cases) of their non-empty fulfillment, i.e., the conditions of the occurrence of the phenomena subject to a given law. However, this difference does not suffice to determine the line of demarcation between the law and historical generalization. A considerable number of statements that are historical generalizations in nature and that present the conditions of their non-empty fulfillment are encountered in various branches of science. Primarily, it refers to the class of generalizations designated by Ossowski, in the case of which the conditions of the fulfillment of the consequent can be given on the basis of the fact that those generalizations refer to a particular genetic sequence of events. These conditions, however, are formulated by means of proper names, historical terms or other expressions of this type, which permits distinguishing historical generalizations at least from strictly general laws that present adequate conditions only in general terms, i.e., theoretical or typological terms (whereby the laws belonging to this category constitute the most common type and are the majority of the scientific laws). Nevertheless, it still remains the fact that most of historical generalizations do not formulate any of the conditions under which the phenomena that they describe occur. Generalizations display solely the area of the occurrence of these phenomena, whereas the majority of laws presents this type of conditions. A question arises why it is much easier to specify the conditions of non-empty fulfillment of laws rather than statements whose degree of generality is comparable to the scope of historical generalization2 and why it is the case that while formulating the latter we usually employ a substitute (proper names, space-time coordinates or other similar terms

2 The knowledge of the conditions of the non-empty veracity of the latter and the possibility of presenting these conditions in general terms (typological and theoretical terms) would allow to substitute relevant historical generalizations for appropriate statements that have the character of the scientific law.

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allowing the determination of the area of their non-empty fulfillment).3 The answer is not problematic if we draw our attention to the fact that the greater the scope of a statement (the area of the non-empty fulfillment) the more general its formulation and the fewer circumstances are detailed by the sufficient condition of its non-empty fulfillment (the most general and universal laws, that are “always and everywhere” non-empty fulfilled, can be realized “in all conditions”). By contrast the less general the statement, the more complex and less recurring the conditions that are sufficient to fulfill this statement. In the case of statements the scope of which is comparable to the scope of historical generalizations, the conditions that are sufficient for their fulfillment usually appear to be so complex that they are repeatable mainly within the confines of certain unrepeatable entirety or within a single developmental cycle or, in other words, within particular space-time boundaries or within a certain genetic sequence. For this reason, it is difficult to formulate them in generally theoretical or typological terms, which exerts an influence on the role of historical generalization, space-time coordinates or any other coefficient designating the scope of the generalization. The fact of unrepeatability, beside one epoch or area, of the conditions that are sufficient to realize the consequent of statements, that are comparable in terms of the scope to generalizations, constitutes the evidence of the complexity of those conditions. In historical and social sciences it is difficult to establish laws, and yet historical generalizations are very numerous. The reasons for this are the complexity of both social phenomena and the conditions in which the consequent of a law or statement (that could optionally overrule particular generalizations) are fulfilled as well as the overall (“syndromic”) character of social phenomena. In order to formulate a law, it is necessary to present explicitly the sufficient conditions in which what is described in the consequent of the law could occur. In order to formulate the historical generalization, it suffices to refer to certain space-time determinants, an epoch or genetic sequence in which the generalization is fulfilled. In natural sciences, entireties also constitute unrepeatable arrangements of elements and exert an influence on those component elements. Nevertheless, it does not disturb the nomological structure of the objects and does not change their relation to the regularities to which they used to be subject when they were constituents 3

In this connection, Nowak ascribes substitute functions to space-time coordinates as well as to the names of the particular singular subjects, epochs and areas (which play the similar role): “they substitute the obscure elements of the sufficient condition of the explained consequent,” that for certain reasons “we did not manage to discover; they also enable us to formulate a veracious strict sentence” (Nowak 1965, p. 32).

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of a different entirety. In the social domain, the nomological structure of the part often reveals its dependence on the structure of the entirety, which introduces an additional complication of the phenomena under study. Space-time coordinates often perform a substitute function in relation to the conditions (of the occurrence of the described consequent) that we are not able to define explicitly, which is reflected by the fact that, beyond doubt, one or another historical generalization is fulfilled in a particular space-time area owing not to any immanent properties of the space-time area but to the actual occurrence in this area of the necessary conditions of realizing the described events. It is also reflected by the fact that owing to the constant change of the Earth’s location in outer space, the space-time determinants that are provided in a given generalization have solely strictly local meaning which is relative to the reference system connected with the Earth. Thus, one cannot speak of the validity of generalization resulting from some particular properties of the space-time that are peculiar to a given area and can be determined by means of “veracious” (absolute) space-time coordinates. It is a wellknown fact that the static reference system does not exist. The following difference between the two types of statements can be derived from the repeatability of the state of affairs. In the case of the historical generalization, the state of affairs can be repeated usually only within a certain space-time area or within a certain genetic sequence. On the contrary, repeatable states of affairs described in scientific laws refer to the greater space-time that cannot be defined in advance. It can be proved that the scope of the non-empty fulfillment of laws may be located in some cases. However, in general it still remains indeterminate. The most characteristic trait of most laws (and strictly general statements) seem to be unlimited spacio-temporal repeatability (or, to be more precise, the possibility of repeatability) of the conditions of their non-empty fulfillment, as well as the assumption included in the formulation of a law in the form of the implication (conditional period), stating that whenever the conditions formulated in the antecedent of a law occur (are repeated), then the state of affairs (the relation) described in the consequent takes place. However, in this case the difference is not as distinct as it might seem. Many a time, the historical generalization describes relations that are repeatable in numerous space-time areas, and it is only researcher’s circumspection or the absence of the ample material concerning their occurrence in other areas or in other conditions that do not permit to describe them with the use of proper laws. On the other hand, it is highly

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possible that numerous statements are regarded as laws of natural or social sciences, although sooner or later they are bound to appear to be only “geo- or heliocentric laws,” that can be non-empty-fulfilled only in the closed space-time areas. Some of the laws of this nature are liable to be overruled sooner or later by relevant historical or cosmological generalizations. The reasons for applying scientific laws instead of historical (cosmological) generalizations to describe certain relations occurring in nature may be the short duration of human existence and the narrow scope of scientific experience in comparison with various historical epochs, eras or cosmological areas. The review of the differences that should be taken into consideration while determining the line of demarcation between scientific laws and historical generalizations allows the following conclusion: any of the differences considered separately – in detachment from the others – is not sufficiently distinct to provide the basis for an adequate designation of the line of demarcation. It seems that to certain extent it is essential to take all the differences into consideration, because only when they are regarded together, they reveal which statement is the scientific law as opposed to historical generalization. Moreover, in the process of distinguishing between laws and generalization, certain differences may be foregrounded in one case, whereas a completely distinct difference may seem to be more crucial in another case. However, determining the line of demarcation between laws and historical generalization is sensible and devoid of the elements of unjustified arbitration only if at least several differences (at best, the six presented below) are taken into consideration. The differences regarded separately are not sufficiently distinct to provide, on its own, the basis for the division in question. Bearing in mind the expounded arguments, the following explication of the notion of scientific law and historical generalization can be provided (obviously, the aim is not to present the full explication of these notions but to present the differences between them as exhaustively as possible). The scientific law is a statement that (i) is usually strictly general and (ii) mostly not equivalent to the finite class of singular sentences; its scope is determined by the class that is (iii) almost always characterized by epistemological openness and (iv) is usually ontologically open, (v) its antecedent formulates, usually in general (theoretical or typological) terms, the conditions of the occurrence of the consequent (in general), without providing the space-time area in which these conditions appear and, thus, (vi) the law can perform the predictive and explanatory function and it assumes the role of an important theoretical premise of previdistic and explanatory reasoning.

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Although the foregoing explication provides six conditions (that are partially consistent) of classifying a given statement into the class of scientific laws, it still remains too indeterminate to be regarded as a satisfactory characteristic of a law and to suffice to distinguish it univocally from historical generalization. The conditions that a statement needs to fulfill in order to be recognized as a scientific law were omitted; these conditions concern functioning of such a statement within the system of knowledge (apart from the predicting and explanatory functions) and they define its properties enabling the application of adequate testing procedures (either confirmation or falsification) and defining the degree of affirmation that is necessary in the case of the statement recognized as a law. For instance, in my opinion, indirect confirmation, which should be present in the case of every law, might be regarded as the necessary condition of recognizing a given statement as a law. Indirect confirmation can consist either in deriving a given law from a more general law that was confirmed independently of the former, or in deriving less general laws from a given law; the laws are directly confirmed by the investigation of the certain number of cases subject to these laws. Thus, the indirectly confirmed law is a law that is either explained by another more general law or that explains any other, less general law. The condition of indirect confirmation demands that every statement regarded as a law should be explained by another law or that it should explain other laws on its own. Obviously, this condition does not refer to historical generalization. The explication of the notion of historical generalization that I am able to provide is even less univocal and specific, which points to the fact that the status of the historical generalization is less distinct than the status of the scientific law. The historical generalization is a statement that is (i) on average numerically general (occasionally it can be strictly general); (ii) it is usually equivalent to the finite class of singular sentences; its scope is determined by the class that is (iii) usually epistemologically open (beside reporting generalizations), (iv) however often ontologically closed; (v) its antecedent provides (explicitly and implicitly) the spacetime area (or a genetic sequence) in which the consequent is fulfilled, though it mostly does not present the necessary conditions of its fulfillment; (vi) historical generalization may often serve the purpose of direct prediction (in a broad sense) and perform the explanatory function, though they generally are not suitable for theoretical premise of prognostic reasoning concerning future cases.

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It follows from the foregoing explications that the statement that is recognized earlier as a law can be deprived of this designation, e.g., when it turns out to be false. However, having actually once appeared to be a law, it can neither cease to be a law nor be transformed, e.g., into historical generalization. The same refers to the historical generalization, which can never be converted into the scientific law. Every statement is and remains what it is; the point is that we can be mistaken in the attribution of the status to a given statement. In particular, the statement does not cease to be a law4 when the class determining its scope of nonempty fulfillment either appears to be ontologically closed or it becomes, owing to the extension of our knowledge, epistemologically closed (cognitively exhausted).5 Although laws are usually characterized by openness in the two above senses, the option of being either ontologically or epistemologically closed is not “prohibited” in the case of a law. When the class determining the scope of a law (a strictly general law) appears to be epistemologically closed (i.e., when the scope of the exemplification analyzed thus far agrees with the scope of law’s nonempty fulfillment), the statement that was earlier recognized as a law is not in the least degraded to the reporting generalization. Maxwell’s principle (stating that the course of phenomena in nature does not depend on the place and time of their occurrence) guarantees the space-time universality of a law (a strictly general one), though it does not guarantee the universality of the reporting generalization. A strictly general statement asserts that wherever the adequate conditions (formulated in the antecedent of a law) occur, particular consequences (formulated in the consequent) are to follow. However, the reporting generalization does not state anything like this. In this sense, the scope of the hitherto applications and the exemplification of a strictly general law investigated so far do not agree entirely with its “potential scope,” even if the law is epistemologically closed. Apart from the domain of non-empty fulfillment, the potential scope of applicability also encompasses the area of a purely potential validity (the domain of empty fulfillment) which is guaranteed to strictly general laws by Maxwell’s principle and which is the complement of the law’s non-empty fulfillment into the space-time area of the universum. Although in fact the scopes of non-empty fulfillment of the two statements can agree, the scopes of their applicability never correspond to each other. In order to define the scope of potential application, it is necessary to take into consideration the domain of the statement’s non-empty fulfillment as well as the area of its 4 5

Cf. Pelc (1957), p. 36. Nagel (1961), pp. 62-64.

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purely potential validity (in the case of the reporting generalization, it is not possible to apply the notion of this area, as Maxwell’s principle does not concern generalizations of this type). By the same token, if the law appeared to be non-empty fulfilled exclusively in a particular space-time area or in a given genetic sequence, then, irrespectively of whether or not we were familiar with this fact, it would not be degraded to numerically general statement or historical generalization (if only the sense of the terms employed in it does not decide whether or not the scope of its nonempty fulfillment is space-time closed). The law would not transform into historical generalization even if it turned out to be definitely verified, i.e., verified in the entire scope of its non-empty fulfillment, when it would be possible to formulate a reporting generalization (a general statement characterized by the lowest degree of generality) based on exhaustive induction and encompassing all the cases of the non-empty fulfillment of this law (such a formulation of a reporting generalization would be possible, for example, when the cases were not too numerous and if they were grouped into one distinctive [closed] space-time area). Although the scope of the non-empty fulfillment of such a law could be determined by referring to a particular place, time or singular object, its potential scope of applicability would remain space- and timeunrestricted. Obviously, even if we realized that a given law is epistemologically closed (i.e., if we knew that all the cases that occurred in the world have been investigated) or that the scope of law’s non-empty fulfillment can be determined with the application of proper names or space-time determinants, it would not be possible for the expression of this type to participate in the formulation of a law and to serve a purpose of locating its scope, provided that it is to remain a strictly general statement. Expressions such as ‘in general’, ‘mostly’, ‘usually’, occurring in the explications that were presented, are the evidence of the far-reaching indeterminacy of the explications of the notions of the historical generalization and scientific law provided to differentiate between the two most significant types of general statements. A more univocal explication of these notions seems to be unattainable at least as long as it is to encompass all the types of statements classified in various sciences into the class of historical generalizations on the one hand, and all the types of statements that are classified by specialists in different fields into the class of laws on the other hand (such explication may seem to be superfluous). Thus, it seems to be very advantageous to conduct a more detailed division of general statements that are formulated in science, rather than a division into historical generalizations and scientific laws,

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which is commonly used at present. Instead of the prevalent dichotomous division into strictly and numerically general statements or into laws and historical generalizations, we could obtain, as a result of such a classification, a more continuous spectrum of general statements, in which the rigid dichotomous division would be obliterated. Even on the basis of the above considerations it can be declared that the difference between the law and historical generalization is not that cardinal and distinct as it is commonly regarded. A more complete explication of the two analyzed notions should include all the most essential functions performed by laws and historical generalizations in the system of scientific knowledge. Also in this respect, the differences are likely to appear to be imprecise and not to allow a univocal characterization of these notions. It was also evident on the basis of the example of the predictive function: both laws and historical generalizations (with the exception of epistemologically closed laws and reporting generalizations) can perform previdistic functions directly (prognostic, diagnostic as well as retrospective functions). Nevertheless, in this respect laws prove their superiority over generalizations (especially in the case of prognosis) in terms of scope, degree of strictness and reliability of predictions. Both historical generalizations and laws can be employed in the process of explaining phenomena, as these two types of statements are appropriate for theoretical premises of explanatory reasoning, although laws reveal their predominance over historical generalizations also in this respect.6 Thus, 6

In the pattern of deductive reasoning: W1, . . . , Wm T1, . . . , Tn E

where W 1 , . . . , W m represents the so-called initial conditions, i.e., these are singular statements describing particular phenomena, quantity or states, e.g., the location and velocity of objects; T 1 , . . . , T n stand for general statements, hypothesis or historical generalizations; E designates a sentence ascertaining what is being explained or predicted), the substitution of which can be prognostic, diagnostic, retrospective and explanatory reasoning, W 1 , . . . , W m represents singular (observational) premises of reasoning, whereas T 1 , . . . , T n are general (theoretical) premises. The role of the latter can be performed both by laws and historical generalizations or, in some cases and for certain purposes, even by general hypotheses and statements that are merely “formal candidates” for laws (lawlike statements) or historical generalizations. The question why certain types of historical generalizations are on a par with laws appropriate for theoretical premises of predictive and explanatory reasoning demands a separate consideration. It is worth noting that, apart from deductive explanations, genetic, functional, structural and statistic explanations also proceed according to the presented pattern. Besides, deductive

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without any doubt, laws have in general greater scientific value (their cognitive status is greater) than historical generalizations, and for this reason no scholar in any field of study should confine him/herself to formulating the latter but aim at establishing statements belonging to the type of scientific law. As far the historian’s program regarding the study of the progress of human knowledge is concerned,7 the dispute with idiographism can be defined as a deliberation about whether a historian should limit him/herself to formulating and verifying historical sentences exclusively (singular sentences according to the extreme version of idiographism or singular and general sentences according to the moderate version) or whether formulating and substantiating strictly general sentences, including scientific laws, should also be his/her task. The stance of idiographism regarding this issue would consist in contrasting strictly general sentences with historical sentences and in a programmed restriction of the historian’s competence to formulate and substantiate historical sentences exclusively (singular, or both singular and general). The opponents of this stance would point to the possibility (as well as to purposefulness and usefulness), that is often unexploited, of historians to formulate strictly general statements also in their field, since the methods of study applied by historians permit not only to arrive at such statements but also to substantiate them. Adam Mickiewicz University Department of Philosophy ul. Szamarzewskiego 89 C 60-568 Poznań, Poland [email protected] REFERENCES Malewski, A. and J. Topolski (1966). Studia z metodologii historii [Studies in the Methodology of History]. Warszawa: PWN. Nagel, E. (1961). The Structure of Science. Problems in the Logic of Scientific Explanation. New York: Harcourt. Nowak, S. (1965). Studia z metodologii nauk społecznych [Studies in the Methodology of Social Sciences]. Warszawa: PWN.

predictions, inductive predictions proceeding according to fallible patterns of reasoning are also identified. 7 Malewski and Topolski (1960), pp. 22-24.

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Ossowski, S. (1964). Two Conceptions of Historical Generalizations. Polish Sociological Bulletin 4, 11-20. Reprinted in this volume, pp. 329-338. Pelc, J., M. Przełęcki and K. Szaniawski (1957). Prawa nauki [Scientific Laws]. Warszawa: PWN.

Andrzej Malewski, Jerzy Topolski ON CAUSAL EXPLANATION IN HISTORY 1. Introduction While pursuing their work, historians do more than just to ascertain facts which occurred in the past, i.e., to answer the question of “what happened?” Also, they try to explain those facts, i.e., to answer the question of “why did some event or other take place?” While explaining the facts under study historians try to determine the circumstances which brought them about. On many occasions they simply call these circumstances causes, and sometimes they refer to them as main, essential, most important or fundamental causes. Very often, instead of speaking of causes historians speak of reasons, factors contributing to given results, prerequisites of some processes, defining moments, and determinants in large measure or in some measure, etc. These terminological differences, i.e., differences in the way the statements about the relations between facts are formulated can be omitted in our further analysis. It is worthwhile, however, to note that the differences in formulation notwithstanding, there exist some definite relations between facts which are used for explaining and those which are explained (i.e., results). Consequently, such terms as cause, reason and a contributing factor are used in historical analyses in different meanings. The very task of causal explanation is also variously interpreted. As we shall demonstrate below, this is of momentous significance for causal analyses conducted by historians. 2. Explaining by Means of Causes Viewed as Sufficient Conditions While investigating the causes of the emergence of the manorial-serf economy in the countries located east of the river Elbe, J. Rutkowski focused on the question of circumstances which were sufficient for the

In: K. Brzechczyn (ed.), Idealization XIII: Modeling in History (Poznań Studies in the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Humanities, vol. 97), pp. 351-381. Amsterdam/New York, NY: Rodopi, 2007.

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development of such a type of economy. Among the possible causes of this phenomenon he rejected the ready market for grain production, because “such a ready market alone does not suffice to trigger the development of manorial-serf estates.”1 Exports to remote markets was rejected as a cause understood in such terms “because it was also in Western Europe that quite vast areas existed that exported grain to remote town markets where serfdom did not develop yet, such as Brittany and the areas around Orleans in France as well as Sicily, Apulia and the Marche in Italy.”2 Finally, Rutkowski rejected as a possible cause the substitution of mercenary troops for the feudal militia (a process which could make it easier for the nobility to engage in reorganizing their estates), because “the manorial-serf estate did not appear in western Europe, where the above-mentioned shift in the organization of the military also took place.”3 In view of the above, it is clear that none of the circumstances considered was in itself sufficient for the development of the manorial-serf economy since we know of situations in which these circumstances occurred, and the development of this type of economy did not take place. As a result of his comparative analysis, Rutkowski came to the conclusion that the co-occurrence of the ready markets for agricultural produce, mainly grain, and strong enough subjugation of the peasantry (that is tying them to the land, restricting their rights to the land and strengthening landlords’ patrimonial jurisdiction) was sufficient or, in other words, was a sufficient condition for the emergence of the manorial-serf economy, because whenever such circumstances occurred, the development of this type of economy could be observed. Thus, generally, circumstances of type A may be said to be a sufficient condition for the occurrence of an event of type B if an event of type B takes place whenever the circumstances of the type A occur. The above example did not create any interpretative problems as to the kind of relationship described, even less so because Rutkowski used the term ‘sufficient condition’. While some scholars do not employ this term, one can infer that it is this kind of relation that they have in mind. It may be concluded that we are dealing with a sufficient condition when, for example, we encounter Rutkowski’s assertion that in the case of landlords personally managing their estates, the income from a manorialserf estate had to be, as a rule, higher than the income which the landlords could obtain from rent-paying tenants, and that this is why the rentification reforms in the 18th century did not involve by and large the 1

Rutkowski (1946), p. 125. Ibid., p. 126. 3 Ibid., p. 127. 2

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middle nobility. It seems in fact that if some group of landlords runs the risk of suffering losses as a result of implementing some reform in their estates, most members of such a group do not carry out such a reform willingly. The application of the term ‘cause’ in the sense of the sufficient condition can sometimes be encountered in analyses in which scholars criticize explanations proposed by their opponents. For example, F. Bujak wrote that serfdom was not the cause of Poland’s demise, since it was also prevalent in other countries and “if in those countries the oppression of peasantry did not preclude the existence and well-being of the state then . . . it could not have been Poland’s downfall.”4 In other words, Bujak believes that serfdom was not a cause of Poland’s demise because one can point to examples of countries in which serfdom existed and which did not collapse. Yet Bujak’s criticism is convincing only when based on the assumption that he views cause as the sufficient condition. A similar interpretation of the term ‘cause’ can be found in J. Tazbir’s critique. Tazbir asserts that the talents and knowledge of the Jesuits do not explain mass conversions of the Polish nobility, because the Arians also had talented activists and brilliant writers in their ranks, and in spite of that only a small group of nobility followed the precepts of Arianism. The personal merits of the leaders of the Catholics, Tazbir concludes, were not the causes of the success of the Catholic Church and the defeat of the Reformation.5 But again, as was the case with other examples, Tazbir’s criticism is valid only if accompanied by the assumption that cause is viewed as the sufficient condition. If the term ‘cause’ were interpreted in a different way, the same criticism, while outwardly convincing, would be by no means cogent. Explanation by means of causes understood as sufficient conditions for the occurrence of investigated facts can be encountered in historical analyses relatively seldom. It does appear, however, where one explains mass processes such as, for example, a spontaneous initiation of economic reforms by a large number of landlords or widespread expansion of some ideology.

4 5

Bujak (1918), pp. 107, 110; quoted after Bobrzyński (1927), vol. II, p. 280. Tazbir (1956), p. 145.

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3. Explaining by Means of Causes Viewed as Necessary Conditions In historical scholarship, one also encounters causal explanations other than those referring to conditions that are sufficient for the occurrence of a given event. In the example cited earlier, J. Rutkowski states that whereas the co-occurrence of ready markets for grain and serfdom is sufficient for the emergence of the manorial-serf economy, it is each of these circumstances in itself that is necessary for the emergence of the economy of this kind. “The ready market for farm produce,” Rutkowski argues, “was a necessary condition for the emergence of a large demesne,”6 and adds that “the latter of the above-mentioned factors, namely sufficiently rigorous serfdom was necessary for the appearance of the manorial-serf estate.” 7 The above means that the manorial-serf economy developed only when there was a ready market for grain and only when serfdom prevailed. In the explanation quoted above, Rutkowski described the circumstances or, in other words, necessary conditions for the occurrence of the event being explained, which in this case was the emergence of the manorial-serf economy. Thus, circumstances A can be generally said to be a necessary condition for the occurrence of event B if an event of type B takes place only when circumstances A occur. It is probably in this sense that the term cause is used by those historians who claim that the cause of the emergence of social classes lies in the development of technology enabling people to produce in larger quantities than necessary for their sustenance. What is apparently meant here is that the process of appropriating the surplus product by some members of society and class divisions connected with it can occur only at the point when people produce more than it is necessary for their sustenance. We may suspect the same kind of relation when we read E. Rostworowski’s paper on the reform in Pawłowo, arguing that “an objective condition allowing the rentification of peasants lies in the simple postulate that the peasant should have something to sell and some place where the sale could take place” and that consequently the rentpaying peasant “should be provided with more land than necessary to feed the family of serfs,” that “his farmstead should be well supplied

6 7

Rutkowski (1946), p. 125. Ibid., p. 126.

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with farm implements and tools,” that “he should be able to hire enough farm-hands” and “enter in some relation with the market.” 8 While reading this text we can guess that in Rostworowski’s opinion only when the peasant had something to sell and some place for the sale to take place could the transfer from serfdom to rentification occur and that consequently the possibility of peasants’ involvement in the market economy was a necessary condition for the shift from serfdom to rents. Somewhat more cautiously, one could claim that the necessary condition for the success of rentification reforms was that the rent-paying peasant should be able to pay the agreed amount of rent and thus that he should be in a position to produce enough for sale and then sell his produce. So far, we have analyzed briefly the types of explanation involving sufficient and necessary conditions for events being explained. This distinction alone, however, does not allow us to grasp the sense of many causal explanations to be encountered in historical research.

4. Explaining by Means of Causes Viewed as Conditions That Are Necessary in a Specific Situation In historical scholarship, explanations in which sufficient or necessary conditions are involved can be encountered far less frequently than explanations which focus on the circumstances that are necessary for the occurrence of a given phenomenon only in some concrete historical situation as opposed to being necessary in every historical situation, as was the case with the necessary condition. We deal here with cause viewed as a condition necessary in a given specific situation, also described as a necessary component of a sufficient condition. The following example can best illustrate the difference between this kind of condition and the necessary condition, a distinction which is very important but not always realized While explaining the process of unifying the Polish state at the turn of the 13 th and the 14 th century, J. Baszkiewicz9 wrote that economic development accompanied by overcoming the economic isolation of individual estates and an increase in the volume of trade was the necessary condition for unification. At first glance, it might seem that we are dealing with the condition which we described earlier as necessary, namely with the assertion that only when the economic development of a 8 9

Rostworowski (1953), p. 105. Baszkiewicz (1954).

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given country takes place can the process of political unification proceed. Yet Baszkiewicz is no doubt aware that unified states emerged on numerous occasions in the conditions of economic isolation of their constituent territories, and that consequently a unified state can emerge without economic development overcoming economic isolation of its constituent parts. By no means does Baszkiewicz assert then that the development of market relations is necessary for the unification of a country in every single situation. What he does say, however, is that the economic development was necessary for unification in the conditions of 13 th -century Poland, which means that if in 13th -century Poland such development had not taken place, the unification of the country would not have occurred. Without running the risk of contradicting one’s own assertions, one can safely claim that some circumstance is a necessary condition for the occurrence of an event of some type in a given specific situation, being fully aware at the same time that the event in question can take place also without such circumstances ever occurring. Generally, one can say in more common parlance, but with less precision, that the event of type A is a condition that is necessary in some specific situation for the occurrence of an event of type Z if the all remaining elements of this situation without A are not sufficient for the occurrence of Z.10 This kind of relation is also meant by J. Rutkowski when, referring to the violent and bloody peasant revolts (such as the rebellion of 1768), he writes that the “main cause of the intensity of those disturbances lay in the fact that the class antagonisms existing within the framework of the agricultural system were used by a neighboring power to undermine the strength of the Republic and thus facilitate the partitions.”11 Needless to say, violent anti-feudal peasant disturbances take place not only as a result of foreign inspiration. In Rutkowski’s view, however, if the foreign inspiration had not occurred in the specific situation of Poland’s southeastern territories in the 18th century, these disturbances would not have taken on such dimensions. Thus, what we are dealing with is a condition that is necessary in a given specific situation. There are other examples which, as in the cases analyzed so far, raise no doubts as to the intention of the scholar. S. Zachorowski expresses his opinion that the development of national consciousness was a necessary 10

More precisely, an event of type A in a situation of type X is a necessary element of the sufficient condition for the occurrence of event Z if: a) whenever an event of type A takes place and circumstances of type X occur, Z occurs as well; b) neither A alone without X nor X alone without A are sufficient for the occurrence of Z. 11 Rutkowski (1946), p. 264.

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condition in 13th -14th century Poland for a successful defense against the enemies. He argues that “without her own national consciousness Poland, would not have been able to emerge victorious, and even less so to remain unscathed amidst all the upheavals and disasters which were to afflict her in the following decades.”12 O. Halecki thought that the opportunity of being instrumental in introducing Christianity in Lithuania that presented itself for Poland was a necessary condition in the 14th century for achieving the PolishLithuanian union. “The Union,” Halecki wrote, “would not have become a fact but for the decisive role which earlier historical circumstances imposed on Poland in this momentous question.”13 Finally one can conjecture that when S. Arnold wrote that in Western Europe “the development of the nationwide market . . . becomes the basis of transformation in the political superstructure and the emergence of centralized states,” 14 he meant that although centralized states emerged on many occasions in the absence of a nationwide market, such states would not have emerged in Western Europe without such market, and thus consequently that the development of the national market in the situation experienced in Western Europe was a necessary condition for the formation of centralized states. We will disregard the question of the legitimacy and cogency of the above assertions, which were used only as examples. Some of them may be viewed as highly questionable. Nonetheless, the kind of relationships which they were meant to illustrate does not by and large present any interpretative problems. The notions of the sufficient condition, the necessary condition and the condition that is necessary in a specific situation have not been invented by practitioners of methodology. They are notions used by historians themselves. A close examination of some causal explanations does not leave any room for doubt that that their authors sometimes meant to discover the sufficient condition, sometimes to discover the necessary condition, and sometimes the condition that is necessary in a given specific situation. The terminology used in such explanations is diverse, but in numerous cases the kind of relationship which is investigated does not create interpretative difficulties. One can argue how often historians embarking upon the task of causal explanation of some event look for its sufficient condition, necessary condition or condition necessary in a given specific 12

Grodecki and Zachorowski (1926), p. 325. Halecki (1919), p. 85. 14 Arnold (1955), p. 119. 13

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situation. Nevertheless, the very fact that historians set themselves such tasks seems to be beyond question. 5. Explaining by Means of Causes Viewed as Favorable Conditions There is a broad spectrum of causal explanations whose authors apparently did not aim to refer to any of the three types of conditions that have been analyzed so far, but to a relationship of a still less definite nature. One can infer that they meant to identify the circumstances which could in some way be favorable for undertaking some actions, but which could not be classified as sufficient conditions, necessary conditions or conditions necessary in a given specific situation. We are going to call this category favorable conditions for such actions. Explanations used in historical scholarship very often use the term cause with respect to some circumstances which can be interpreted as favorable conditions in the latter sense. This is particularly conspicuous whenever historians, while analyzing some process, refer to many factors which are meant to explain it. One example is S. Kieniewicz’s attempt to explain why “peasant revolts became ever more frequent, numerous, more wide-spread; their methods more varied, their goals more definite” in the period between the partitions and the abolition of serfdom in the Kingdom of Poland. Kieniewicz argues that “numerous causes explain this qualitative change.” The causes that he lists include, e.g., the growing exploitation of serfs and the emergence of new forms of exploitation next to the old ones, the development of new ties between the countryside and the market and the resultant benefits, the disorganization of the state apparatus at the turn of the 18 th and 19 th century, the development of social groups outside the countryside professing anti-feudal attitudes, etc.15 It seems that Kieniewicz does not intend to claim that whenever some of the circumstances listed above occurs the peasants’s resistance against their landlords intensifies, or that this is the case only when some of those circumstances take place, nor finally that the same result would not have followed without some of those circumstances occurring in 19th -century Poland. It seems that the relationship between each of the above mentioned circumstances (treated as causes) and the result in question has a less definite character. The growing exploitation of peasants, the disorganization of the state apparatus, the revitalization of market relations, or the growing strength of potential allies could all encourage the peasants to stand up to their 15

Kieniewicz (1956), pp. 3-4.

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landlords. Yet, it is also well known that such circumstances can produce some other results. One possible interpretation of this type of relation would involve admitting that we are dealing with conditions that are favorable for the occurrence of such an event. This type of explanation may be interpreted as referring to many circumstances contributing in some way, in the scholar’s opinion, to the occurrence of the event being explained. Such explanations can be encountered remarkably frequently. For example, Baszkiewicz, while explaining why some feudal landlords supported the process of uniting the Polish state at the turn of the 13 th and 14 th century, points to many factors which could favor unification as well as to many which could be unfavorable. Among the former, he includes the connections of many secular barons with the prince-unifier, difficulties in managing estates by feudal barons whose property was scattered in various principalities of the fragmented country, external threat, and finally some sort of psychological factor, namely the hope of increasing feudal exploitation of the peasantry with the help of the unified state. Again, it does not seem likely that Baszkiewicz meant to claim that some of the circumstances that he listed were sufficient or even necessary in the given specific situation at that time to ensure the support for the process of unification by some barons. One can infer that he meant to list the circumstances which could have some influence on the analyzed result, i.e., describe the conditions which we propose to classify as favorable conditions. Clearly, this kind of relation between those circumstances and the result being analyzed could be interpreted in a different way. For example, they could be approached as the type of factors whose operation, when combined with the operation of other factors considered as a constant, increases the likelihood of the occurrence of the actions under study (e.g., particular barons supporting the unification process or peasants rising against their landlords, as in the case discussed earlier) and whose absence decreases such likelihood. It seems, however, that such interpretation of the conditions which we proposed to classify as favorable conditions does not have any practical value in research. This is because the historian generally is not in a position to assess the increase in relative frequency of actions that she/he investigates due to the operation of one out of a whole range of favorable conditions, and sometimes she/he does not even know whether this type of condition results in the increase or decrease of some type of actions. We do not know, for example, whether an increase in exploitation is actually accompanied by an increase or decrease in rebelliousness. By using the

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concept of the favorable condition we would not be able to determine if the increase in the feudal burden was a condition contributing to the growth in resistance against the landlords. On the other hand, we are aware that this kind of change could potentially induce peasants to rise against their landlords, which means that it can be classified as a favorable condition in the sense that was explained previously. 6. Explaining by Means of Direct Causes and Indirect Causes While trying to pinpoint the causes of a historical event historians do not always refer to circumstances directly related to the event in question. Very often they include among the causes some circumstances whose relation with the event under analysis is only indirect. The following diagram can best illustrate our point: A B

Y X

F C

Z

E D

Some historians point to circumstances Y and Z as the cause of event of type X, others to the circumstances A and B or C and D, still others, e.g., to E or F. To illustrate our point, let us consider various views on the causes of Poland’s partitions which can be found in the extensive literature on the subject. While considering the causes of the partitions, J. Rutkowski wrote that the direct cause lay both in the aggression of the neighboring powers and in the military weakness of the Republic. The latter, in turn, was determined on the one hand by the specific ideas underlying the Polish foreign and domestic policy, according to which a large army was not merely superfluous but even positively harmful and dangerous. On the other hand, the weakness was determined by the deplorable condition of the country’s finances precluding the creation of the army, which was badly needed. The condition of finances depends on the one hand on financial legislation, and on the other hand on the economic system, which in Poland’s case primarily meant the existing model of agriculture. 16

16

Rutkowski (1921), p. 139.

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With minor adjustments, J. Rutkowski’s train of thought can be presented in the following way: A) aggression of the neighboring, powers C) growing, strength of neighboring, powers D) combination of the forces of Prussia, Russia and Austria

partitions B) military weakness of the Republic as compared with the neighbors

E) fear of creating, a strong army G) the economic system, model of agriculture in particular

F) deplorable state of finances

I) reluctance to make sacrifices on the part of parliament

H) fiscal legislation

J) weakness and powerlessness of the government, unbridled power of the nobility, liberum veto

One cannot fail to note that various historians sometimes pointed to more direct causes while explaining Poland’s downfall. For example, Balzer wrote that “the actual decisive cause of the demise of our state . . . was the greed of the combined, and thus overwhelmingly superior neighboring powers that swore to destroy Poland.”17 Balzer points to the circumstances marked as A and D on our diagram, i.e., to the aggression of the neighboring powers and the combination of their forces. Considering the question of why Poland at the end of the 18th century did not manage to repulse the foreign invasion as it did in mid-17 th century at the time of the Swedish “deluge,” W. Sobieski comes to the conclusion that it was because “in the intervening period the three powers: Austria, Prussia and particularly Russia enormously gained in strength and consequently had the last word.”18 Sobieski points to the circumstance marked on our diagram with letter C (the growing strength of neighboring powers). F. Bujak wrote that “the critical . . . problem in Poland’s collapse was the lack of judicious and unwavering determination to maintain the 17 18

Balzer (1915), p. 75. Sobieski (1924), p. 65.

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independence in the situation in which Poland found itself in the 18 th century.” 19 He apparently meant to emphasize that the economic system did not preclude the creation of a strong army, but that Parliament representing the nobility was unwilling to make the necessary sacrifices. Bujak thus points to the circumstance marked on our diagram with the letter I. M. Bobrzyński wrote that “it was neither the frontiers nor the neighboring powers that deprived us of our independent political status. Rather, it was our domestic anarchy.”20 The anarchy and impotence was caused by the weakness of the government. “If therefore,” he wrote, “we could not stand up to the threat coming from the outside at the end of the 18 th century, the only direct cause of that was the lack of government.” 21 Following Bobrzyński, W. Konopczyński wrote many years later, in more cautious terms, that the single most important social and constitutional cause of Poland’s downfall was the “unbridled power of the nobility and the liberum veto.” 22 The circumstance that he used for explanation is marked in our diagram with letter J. It is not difficult to see that individual historians trying to explain the partitions of Poland sometimes point to the direct causes and sometimes the causes of those causes, etc. The problem becomes additionally complicated by the ambiguity that was discussed earlier and which is inherent in the term ‘cause’. Furthermore, the difficulties are compounded by the fact that historians refer to specific causes as decisive, main, the most important and only causes. In order to avoid many groundless debates, historians should state more precisely what is being explained and what kind of relationship is being referred to. The choice of the causes of Poland’s partitions as an illustration may not be beyond reproach on the grounds that many of the quoted opinions are marked by a journalistic flavor and are strongly colored by political attitudes and moral judgments. But it is also in analyses of a more scholarly nature that differences of interpretation can be encountered very frequently, since some scholars point in their explanations to the circumstances which are more directly connected with the investigated fact and others foreground to the circumstances which are in a more or less indirect relation to it.

19

Bujak (1924), p. 121. Bobrzyński (1927), vol. II, p. 305. 21 Ibid., pp. 308-309. 22 Konopczyński (1936), p. 271. 20

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Let us consider, for example, some explanations of the origins of the manorial-serf economy in the countries east of the river Elbe in the 16th century. As we mentioned earlier, J. Rutkowski wrote that “the co-occurrence of serfdom and ready markets for agricultural produce was both a necessary and sufficient condition for the development of the manorialserf economy.”23 W. Rusiński wrote that without dismissing the influence of other factors on the emergence of the manorial-serf economy, it should be emphasized that two factors were of paramount importance for the whole process. The first was the heavy demand for agricultural produce in the West and the second was the fact that the nobility gained decisive political influence in Eastern European countries and had a free hand to deal with the peasants as they wished. 24

B. Zientara wrote recently that the disposition of class forces operating at the time is the main cause of the emergence of the manorial-serf economy in the countries east of the Elbe. The ready markets abroad, which were favorable for the nobility, and the accompanying expansion of Western European capital made it possible for the nobility to turn the opportunity for subjugating the peasantry into reality.25

When speaking about the disposition of class forces at the time, Zientara means such a disposition which was characterized first and foremost by the weakness of the towns. The above-mentioned explanations can be presented in the following diagram: D) the disposition of class forces characterized by the weakness of the towns

† C) gaining of decisive political influence in the state by the nobility

† A) more rigorous serfdom, B) ready market for agricultural produce, grain in particular

† The emergence of the manorial-serf economy

It is not difficult to see that the first of the scholars quoted above explains the emergence of the manorial-serf economy as caused by circumstances marked on our diagram as A and B, the second scholar

23

Rutkowski (1946), p. 127. Rusiński (1956), p. 643. 25 Zientara (1956), p. 40. 24

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points to B and C as the decisive factors, and the third views circumstance D as the main cause. At this point, one is tempted to note that it is only a matter of subjective rhetoric whether one describes the disposition of class forces as the main cause and the demand for agricultural produce as merely the facilitating circumstance for turning an opportunity into reality. One might just as well argue that the demand for agricultural produce was “the main cause,” and the dominance of nobility over other classes merely “facilitated turning an opportunity for subjugation of the peasants into reality.” The generalizing nature of these expressions does not allow the disputes between such positions to be settled. We shall return to this problem further on in our analysis. 7. The Defectiveness of Many Causal Explanations So far in this chapter we have discussed the fact that the problem of causal explanation is understood in different ways: scholars undertaking to explain the same fact do not always understand their task in the same way. This becomes particularly conspicuous when one scholar believes that she/he has explained some process and another scholar maintains that the circumstances used by his/her colleague do not explain the whole complexity of the process or even that they do not explain this process at all. The situation may become additionally complicated as a result of some flaws that may appear in causal explanations. Let us try to systematize these flaws. An ambiguity of the claim concerning the relation between facts. While trying to explain the growing incidence of phenomena such as forced hire of peasant labor in the demesne, the expulsion of serfs from their land and the increase in other burdens imposed on the peasants, all of which took place in the Kingdom of Poland in the 1840s and 1850s, E. Halicz wrote that the causes . . . should be identified as the growing demand for grain and other kinds of agricultural produce. The situation developed in such a way that a steadily decreasing amount of manorial service was available while the needs of the demesne markedly increased. Resulting from that was the tendency to resort to semi-forced hire and to search for other sources of the labor force to meet the needs of the demesne. 26

A question arises in what sense the growing demand for grain was the cause of the increase in the forced hire of peasants or their expulsion 26

Halicz (1955), p. 55.

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from land? Beyond doubt, Halicz views this cause neither as the sufficient condition nor as the necessary condition. Perhaps he meant that without the growing demand for agricultural products the burden imposed on the peasants would not have increased in the Kingdom of Poland in the middle of the 19th century. Perhaps he meant merely that the landowners took into account the growing demand when they were increasingly resorting to forced hire and that the latter fact could be one of the circumstances inducing them to increase the burden imposed on the peasants. Similar misgivings come to mind when we read B. Baranowski’s study on peasants of the Kurpie region in the 17th century, which states that that “the rentification reform . . . was the result of the determined and uncompromising struggle of local peasants.”27 Again, a question arises: in what sense was that the result? What sort of relation are we dealing with in this case? Does Baranowski mean that whenever this kind of attitude prevailed among the peasants, it resulted in the abolition of serfdom? Does he mean that but for the struggle of the peasants at that time the manorial service would not have been replaced by rents? Or perhaps he only means that the attitude of the peasants was one of the circumstances which could encourage the landlords to make the decision to replace manorial service with rents? The claims about relationships formulated in such terms which give rise to unsolvable disputes. Beside the situation in which several interpretations of some claim arise, making it difficult for us to be certain which one was intended by the writer, it can also happen that we are unable to determine at all what kind of relationship was meant by the writer. No convincing concept of interpretation comes to mind when we read some assertions couched in highly metaphorical terms and professing for instance that in 18th -century Poland sentimentalism was “an expression of protest on the part of the lower strata of the nobility,” and that “the Reformation destroyed the principles which were at heart nothing less than an expression of trends to sanctify the social system based on the power of landlords” or that “the attitude of the advocates of conventionalizm towards generalizations is . . . an expression . . . of social and ideological helplessness of the middle class in the age of imperialism” and that this tendency “was the utmost expression of vacillation and lack of direction of this group.” When we analyze the impossibility of settling disputes about the interpretation of claims which describe relationships between historical 27

Baranowski (1951), p. 135.

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facts, it might be worthwhile, to mention the type of claim which asserts that among many factors which influence a given situation one factor was decisive. For example, S. Zachorowski wrote that “the dynastic factor was the strongest one in restoring the national unity”28 of the Polish state in the 13 th century. Elsewhere, the same scholar wrote that “Polish national consciousness was unquestionably the strongest factor”29 counteracting regional separatism. Another scholar writes that the Ruthenian problem, i.e., the expansion into Ruthenia was the principal factor cementing the fragmented Polish lands into a united Polish state, and that underlying the rentification reforms was a whole cluster of factors, the most important among them being the development of the production forces and the monetary economy, the interest of the landlord, and the class struggle of the peasants.30 While making this sort of assertions historians frequently fail to point to any method which would allow to compare the strength or validity of particular factors. If someone claimed, for example that it was not national consciousness, but the development of trade relations that was the strongest factor overcoming regional separatism, there would not be any method of solving this kind of dispute. In such situations advocates of mutually exclusive positions can obstinately hold on to the views that their passions dictate them, and then the differences between them take on the characteristics of professions of faith. Similar reservations come to mind with respect to such terms as the main cause, the fundamental cause or the decisive cause, especially when these terms are not used to refer to sufficient conditions but to some of the conditions that are necessary in a given specific situation. When some scholar writes that the reluctance of the nobility to accept taxes that were necessary to create an army constituted the decisive or main cause of the partitions of Poland, while another scholar argues that it was the growing strength of the neighboring powers that was the decisive or main cause, it might seem that there exists a substantive dispute between these two scholars. The application of the term ‘main cause’ to some circumstance seems to indicate that other circumstances are by no means main or decisive. Yet, although in the example cited above one scholar treats some circumstance as the main cause and the other scholar favors another circumstance, there is no objective basis for a dispute between them, as each scholar expresses only his/her own hierarchy of importance.

28

Zachorowski (1920). Grodecki and Zachorowski (1946), p. 325. 30 Topolski (1955), p. 60. 29

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To be sure, in some situations we can quantitatively determine and compare the influence of various factors, e.g., on the decline of agricultural production. The dispute involving the question which of those factors is more important may have quite substantial implications in such a context. It is not such situations, however, that we mean in the present discussion. The above remarks can be formulated more precisely. A distinction may be drawn between the relation of claims about the occurrence of connections between some historical facts to their authors on the one hand, and the relation of such claims to the reality they purport to describe on the other hand. The relation between the claim and its author is a relation of expression. The claim expresses the attitude of the scholar who professes it. The relation between the claim and the substance to which this claim refers is the relation of ascertainment. Claims of scholarly nature ascertain that facts and relationships between ascertained facts do occur. Our opinion is that some of the claims that we have analyzed so far express the hierarchy of importance of some facts favored by their authors, while other claims do not ascertain any definite relationship which can be identified at all. The claims about the relations between facts expressed without substantiation or with faulty substantiation. Occasionally, one encounters claims about causes of some events that are formulated without giving proper reasons for them. J. Baszkiewicz, for example, asserts that economic development was a necessary condition for the unification of Poland after the period of fragmentation. We managed to find the total of four attempts to substantiate this opinion in his book about the emergence of the unified Polish state and in the paper31 published afterwards. Let us take a closer look at them. It is worth quoting in extenso the first of Baszkiewicz’s argument. We will number the successive sentences to facilitate the ensuing analysis: (i) it is unquestionable that the economic development of Poland was a necessary condition, (ii) regional fragmentation could not have been overcome without new developments in the realm of productive forces and relations of production, (iii) the wheel of history could not have been turned back and that is why the return to the relatively homogeneous monarchy of the early feudal period was not possible, 31

Baszkiewicz (1954), p. 139.

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(iv) the economic relations marked by the prevalence of natural economy and relative isolation of particular estates and parts of the country had become entrenched, then fragmentation of the country could not have been overcome, (v) the increasing incidence of new progressive phenomena in the country’s economy was the necessary condition of political progress. Statements (i) and (v) are restatements of the conclusion to be substantiated. Statements (ii), (iii), and (iv) are meant as premises. Do these premises, however, give grounds for the conclusion? it is easily noticeable that statements (ii) and (iv) are only alternative wordings of the conclusion that is supposedly being substantiated. This is because the statement that A is a necessary condition (or an indispensable one) of B is equivalent to the statement that B would not have occurred without A, and that if A had not taken place B would not have occurred. Consequently, the statement that economic development was a necessary condition for the unification is equivalent to the statement that without economic development (i.e., the occurrence of new phenomena in the realm of the forces of production and relations of production) the unification would not have occurred (fragmentation could not have been overcome). Also, it is equivalent to the statement that if economic development had not occurred (i.e., the economic relations marked by the prevalence of the natural economy and the relative isolation of particular estates and parts of the country had not become entrenched) the reunification of the country would not have taken place (i.e., the fragmentation of the country could not have been overcome). It is thus clear that we are dealing only with an illusion of substantiation which is caused by repeated restatement of the same idea in alternative wordings. There remains one last premise stating that the wheel of history could not have been turned back, and that this is why returning to the relatively homogeneous monarchy of the early feudal period was not possible. This summary statement is apparently meant to indicate that in the early feudal period the unified state could exist despite the prevalence of the natural economy and the relative isolation of particular estates, while in the 13th and 14 th centuries it could not. An observation comes to mind that the second part of the statement is again just a rewording of the conclusion that is supposedly being substantiated. By no means is such a conclusion substantiated by the metaphorical statement that “the wheel of history could not have been turned back,” an expression marked by vagueness and ambiguity and as such unlikely to give us grounds for a

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substantive discussion. The first attempt to substantiate Baszkiewicz’s claims must be therefore dismissed as unconvincing. Let us now consider the second attempt. After the remarks intended as explanation why the economic development was not sufficient for the unification, Baszkiewicz goes on to say that nonetheless, the issue of Poland’s economic development in the 13 th century is of first-rate importance for the unification of Poland in the 13 th century and must be placed among the principal causes of unification. It should be reiterated that without progressive changes in the economy of our country, political fragmentation could not have been overcome. One more point of vital importance must be emphasized as well: the economic development of the country strengthened the power of the prince, who was at the time the factor destined to take the lead in the unification process. 32

A new argument which crops up here involves the assertion that the economic development strengthened the forces of princes-unifiers. And again one must observe that this fact does not substantiate the claim that without the economic development of Poland the unification would not have taken place. To the contrary, as G. Labuda aptly pointed out, economic development strengthened the forces of both the princesunifiers and their opponents.33 Baszkiewicz’s third attempt draws on the example of the Russian state. “Soviet historical scholarship,” he writes, “attaches great importance to the problem of the economic development of the Russian lands. This factor is considered one of the principal causes of the unification of the Russian state.”34 In our opinion, in this case Baszkiewicz again failed to employ enough factual material which would allow us to consider the claim under study as substantiated. Finally, the fourth argument originally comes from Baszkiewicz’s reply to G. Labuda’s critique of his book. Baszkiewicz writes that he will with “unwavering determination” stand by his claim that economic development was necessary for overcoming the feudal fragmentation and the emergence of the unified Polish state at the turn of the 13th and 14th century. He adds simultaneously that “the facts of the historical process . . . indicate irrefutably that but for the accelerated expansion of the monetary economy, but for the new forms in social and economic life such unification of the country would not have been possible.” 35

32

Ibid., p. 142. Labuda (1955), p. 132. 34 Baszkiewicz (1954), pp. 142-143. 35 Baszkiewicz (1955), pp. 60-62. 33

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Yet in order to substantiate irrefutably the claim that economic development was a necessary condition for unification in 13 th - and 14 th -century Poland, one would have to prove that other circumstances in the absence of development of the monetary economy would not have been sufficient for the unification of the country. Conclusive arguments to that effect could be found in analyses of situations in which the monetary economy did not develop and which were as similar as possible to the situation of Poland in the 13 th century in all other respects that were likely to affect the course of events. By showing that in such situations the regional fragmentation was not overcome Baszkiewicz could have substantiated his claim. The substantiation would gain in validity in proportion to the similarity of such a situation to the situation of 13 th -century Poland. Yet Baszkiewicz failed to present such arguments, which is why we remain unpersuaded that “the facts of the historical process irrefutably confirm the validity of his claim.” Finally, let us analyze the Baszkiewicz’s challenge to provide examples which would contradict his claim. At this point, one can not help making an observation that even the absence of examples to the contrary does not constitute a confirmation of the validity of Baszkiewicz’s claim. It is not easy to prove wrong a claim involving a condition that is necessary in a specific situation. It would probably not be easy to find examples confuting the claim that the unification of Poland in the 13th century would not have occurred without the development of national consciousness and that the victory of CounterReformation in Poland at the turn of the 16th and 17th century would not have occurred without the changes within the Catholic camp or if king Sigismund August had not supported the reforms of the Council of Trent. Does this mean that the cogency of all of these claims is therefore confirmed? What was said above does not settle either way the question of the validity of Baszkiewicz’s claim as such. This category of factual problems is, however, outside the scope of the present work. His claim may happen to be true. Yet the examination of Baszkiewicz’s arguments has led us to the conclusion that, contrary to appearances, his claim has not been so far properly vindicated. If we devoted slightly more attention to this problem, it was because of the lively debate to which it has given rise. In our analysis, we naturally intended to illustrate a problem of a more general nature, namely to attract the attention to the fact that even when we are faced with attempts at substantiation, the arguments used may sometimes be unsatisfactory.

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Inadequate precision of the components of causal relationship. Quite often, historical research involves cases where broad generalities are used to characterize the components of causal relationship. Let us use an example. While describing the situation in Poland at the turn of the 17th and 18th century, W. Kula pointed to the increase in the area of demesnes, the accumulation of land by the magnates, the growing population of landless nobility which accompanied this phenomenon and their alliance with the magnates, the decline and disorganization of industrial production, the decline of agricultural production, the enormous costs of administering the magnate’s latifundia, etc. After this broad characterization of the overall economic and socio-political situation W. Kula asks the following: Where are we to look for the causes which some time in mid-18 th century began to provoke phenomena that are symptomatic of changes in this state of affairs and which accounted for the fact that there appear at this time first deliberate plans and actions leading to these changes? 36

Kula’s own answer is cited below: To be sure, there are many such causes and, as is usually the case, particularly in the history of backward countries, there is an interplay of external and internal causes . . . The external causes include the growing demand for grain in the West, in England and in France . . . There are many internal causes. On the one hand, we are dealing with the normal situation when events, so to speak, take their natural course and despite all the brakes applied by the system the progress in the social organization of labor inches forward. The market and monetary relations, while rather limited in scope, do exist and operate, gradually expanding and leading to all the results described in social and economic theories. The population increases, no matter how slow the process, hampered as it is by the conditions created by the social system. This population growth facilitates and accelerates the operation of the market economy . . . More important still are perhaps the internal causes of political nature . . . The impotence of the state in preventing the escapes of serfs and particularly its weakness when faced with peasant uprisings. All of this bears out the necessity of reforms, whose point of departure and precondition must be the strengthening of the political power of the state . . . Notwithstanding that, the principal causes of the attempts to abandon the manorial-serf system in Poland in the 18 th century should be sought first and foremost in the internal contradictions of this system. Those contradictions accounted for the fact that the system became economically ineffective and politically impotent.37

We quoted this extensive passage with only minor omissions because it is quite characteristic of the type of deficiency which we want to illustrate. In order to make this deficiency stand out more clearly we 36 37

Kula (1951), p. 49. Kula (1951), pp. 49-51.

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should first of all consider what is being explained in the above extract. The final section seems to suggest that we are dealing with an attempt to establish why reforms abolishing the manorial-serf system were implemented by some magnates in their estates. Earlier sections indicate, however, that we are dealing either with an explanation of attempts to strengthen the political power of the state or with an explanation of the increase in production and growth of national income. W. Kula himself at the beginning asks a question about the causes of changes in the state of affairs that he is examining. Yet the description of the situation that he presents covers a broad variety of problems and the changes in question could have had widely different characteristics. Thus, only when one determines exactly what kind of changes one aims to explain can one answer the question with due precision. Here is another example. While expressing the opinion that the ethnically Polish areas of the Republic did not experience bloody peasant rebellions, W. Konopczyński remarks that this docility of the Polish village cannot be explained only by the tolerable economic existence of serfs, which the squires themselves must have been keen to ensure; the serf was simply too stupefied with work and chained to his plot of land to be able to strive for political rights. 38

A question arises what Konopczyński means by “the tolerable economic existence of serfs, which the squires themselves must have been keen to ensure” or by being “too stupefied with work?”. What precise facts are being used here to explain the relative absence of bloody peasant rebellions in the ethnically Polish areas of the Republic? Explanations where either the cause or the effect are products of speculation without being confirmed in the sources. W. Zachorowski states that while the Kingdom of Przemysł did not in fact last long, the resplendence of his crown made an indelible impression on the hearts and minds, reawakened national consciousness, fostered the hope, encouraged efforts towards a more permanent, true rebirth of the country.39

It strikes us instantaneously that these phrases are marked by literary élan rather than thoroughly documented factual knowledge. Similar observations come to mind when we read the assurances of the same scholar that in 1254 all Poland gathered around the grave of the martyr [Saint Stanislaus of Cracow; footnote by A.M. and J.T.] and the whole nation, having received a

38 39

Konopczyński (1936), pp. 268-269. Zachorowski (1920), p. 151.

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patron saint, was moved by but one sentiment. This was an inestimable asset, also in political terms, as the wellspring of the sense of national unity. 40

We would not deem it necessary to quote these examples but for the fact that such unfounded claims are by no means exceptional. One can frequently come across claims about facts being connected by causal relationships which cannot be traced to the sources. Explanations drawing on beliefs and aspirations of various individuals are remarkably frequent in this category. Examples of such explanations, which are frequently derivative in nature, can be encountered in various schools of history, the differences between them being marked by the specific type of bias of the respective school. While explaining the rise of absolutism in Western Europe, M. Bobrzyński wrote that in those countries [of Western Europe; footnote by A.M. and J.T.] the sense of foreboding that dangers were imminent was so intense and widespread, the opinions that without a strong government they could not stand up to these dangers so deeply rooted, that in order to build the system of political power these nations were willing to sacrifice for many years to come the second element of human happiness on this earth, i.e., their civil liberties. 41

It seems that Bobrzyński puts his own beliefs and aspirations into the minds of the general public of Western Europe in the period prior to the emergence of absolutism. J. Baszkiewicz wrote that the growing realization among some members of the baronial caste of the role which the feudal state plays as a political apparatus enforcing the superiority of the feudal landlord over the peasant, and aggravating the oppression and feudal exploitation, is the first reason why they supported the cause of uniting the Polish lands and strengthening the power of the state apparatus.42

Again, the same question springs to mind: how does Baszkiewicz know that some members of the baronial caste were sure that the unified state would help them to aggravate the oppression before they decided to support the cause of unification? Finally, one more example. C. Bobińska, while analyzing the renewed unity among the former positivist leaders headed by A. Świętochowski, wrote that the political rapprochement between them “motivated as it was by the fear of their own revolutionary proletariat was at the core of Count Tyszkiewicz’s memorandum” and adds that the former positivists, who were “panic-stricken” at the prospect of revolutionary liberation of Poland, “kowtowed to the tsar, at the same time trying to take advantage 40

Grodecki and Zachorowski (1926), p. 325. Bobrzyński (1927), p. 309. 42 Baszkiewicz (1955), p. 289. 41

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of his critical situation and swindle something out of him.” 43 To be sure, political actions such as the one which Bobińska refers to may be due to various motivations. Why does she accept the most repugnant motives? What grounds does she have for doing that? We presented examples of explanations in which either facts treated as causes or facts treated as effects cannot be traced to the sources. Needless to say, we do not mean to say that all hypothetical explanations should be avoided completely. It is essential, however, that their hypothetical nature is explicitly stated and clearly realized. It is important to look for facts which could refute competing hypotheses. To put it in a nutshell, systematic verification of facts is crucial. When it does not take place, we are faced with the danger that unfounded opinions resulting from individual scholars’s vivid imagination may find their way into historical analyses. 8. Conclusion. Corollaries and Postulates In the present analysis, we drew attention to the fact that various types of relations may exist between the facts used for explaining and the facts which are being explained and that the word cause appears in historiography in various meanings. As it turns out, the question: “why did some event take place?”, while at first glance completely unambiguous, tends to be understood in remarkably different ways in historical scholarship Sometimes cause is understood as a sufficient condition, which means that circumstance A is considered to be the cause of an event of type B if it is established that whenever a circumstance of type A occurs, an event of type B occurs as well. On other occasions, cause is viewed as a necessary condition. In such a case circumstances of type A are assumed to be the cause of event B, if an event of type B occurs only when circumstances of type A occur as well. As we have pointed out, the interpretation of cause as a sufficient condition or a necessary condition does not appear in historical analyses very frequently. It may be encountered primarily in explaining some mass processes, e.g., a large number of landowners spontaneously undertaking economic reforms or widespread expansion of some ideology. 43

Bobińska (1954), p. XLVII.

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Far more frequently, historical analyses involve interpretations of cause as a condition that is necessary in a given specific situation. In such cases, cause is viewed as the set of circumstances which are necessary for the occurrence of the given phenomenon but which are necessary only in a given specific historical context rather than in every situation. We came across explanations of this kind when we read, for example, that the development of the market economy or the external threat caused the unification of the Polish state at the turn of the 13 th and 14 th century. Needless to say, unified states do not always emerge or do not emerge only in the circumstances when trade relations are well developed. As we pointed out earlier, the scholars who used such explanations probably intended to emphasize that the remaining factors influencing Poland’s situation in the 13 th century would not have been sufficient for the victory of the unification movement without the development of the monetary economy or without the external threat. In other words, these scholars intended to state that the development of the monetary economy or the external threat were necessary for unification under the circumstances. We also said that yet another interpretation of the term ‘cause’ is commonly found. It involves cases in which some circumstances are mentioned as causes of someone’s decision in the sense that they could encourage making the decision in question but were neither sufficient, necessary nor necessary in the given specific situation. We called these circumstances favorable conditions. It is easy to see that the relation between cause viewed as a favorable condition on the one hand and the result being investigated on the other hand is not as close as was the case with the sufficient condition, the necessary condition and the condition that is necessary in a specific situation. The variety of relations obtaining between facts which are used for explaining and the facts being explained is additionally complicated by the fact that while looking for the cause of some event historians sometimes expect the answer pinpointing the circumstances which are in a more direct relation to the event in question, and sometimes the circumstances which are in a more indirect relation. The same event is explained by one historian by means of circumstances X and by another historian by means of circumstances Z which caused event X. It is essential to remember about these different approaches to the problem of causal analysis if one wants to avoid groundless disputes and criticism based on misunderstanding. One should add that these differences are sometimes accompanied by differences stemming from the application of different criteria of

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selection. It is easy to see that not every explanation of the same event under study which has recourse, for example, to a condition necessary in a given specific situation is treated equally. Some such explanations are treated as trivial and bland and others as deserving to be emphasized, and even with respect to that there are differences of points of view which are not easy to settle. Finally, in addition to the differences due to the various ways of understanding the task of causal explanation, the situation may become even more complicated by the flaws in executing the task itself. In the second part of the chapter, we examined many types of flaws such as the ambiguity of claims about relations between facts. Formulating claims in such terms gives rise to irresolvable disputes, missing or flawed substantiation, inadequate precision in defining facts that are being explained and facts which are used for explaining, etc. In view of the presented problems involved in causal explanation it is not surprising that the same facts are often explained by different scholars in different ways. Focusing research on particular historical sources and specific scholarly interests involved can sometimes also contribute to the differences between particular explanations. Researchers specializing in the history of political systems often emphasize different circumstances than those highlighted by scholars who are interested primarily in political or diplomatic history, both differing in this respect from researchers interested in economic history. One should add, however, that a closer examination of the above-mentioned relationships sometimes reveals a quite visible correlation between the applied method of explanation and the ideological disposition of particular scholars. For example, when trying to pinpoint the cause of the victory of the CounterReformation in Poland at the turn of the 16 th and 17th century, W. Konopczyński44 favors the changes which took place within the Catholic camp, W. Sobieski45 prefers the struggle with the Orthodox Russia and the backlash against the preponderance of Lutheranism in Germany, W. Kalinka46 opts for Sigismund August’s support for the reforms of the Council of Trent, S. Czarnowski47 – favors strengthening of the relative position of nobility with respect to the magnates and families of town oligarchs, and J. Tazbir48 highlights the intensification 44

Konopczyński (1936), p. 224. Sobieski (1923), p. 97. 46 Kalinka (1900), p. 373. 47 Czarnowski (1956). 48 Tazbir (1956), pp. 145-146. 45

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of the class struggle of peasants. Faced with such a list one cannot resist the impression that there exists a fairly clear connection between the explanation favored by a given scholar and his/her professed ideology. It could be argued that different explanations of the same facts complement one another and there is no reason for argument. However, it is well known that some scholars try to undermine the explanations presented by others. In their criticism, they relatively seldom advance the charge of the falsity of their opponents’ explanation. Far more commonly, one comes across a different kind of reproach. For example, the charges used against some scholars in the historiography of the period 1949-1956 were that those scholars too frequently favor as causes of changes the phenomena from the realm of superstructure, that various causes are treated by them equally and no category is assigned a decisive role, that crucial transformations are attributed to external influences such as colonization, foreign invasions or tariff policies of neighboring countries, that the events studied are explained by factors which are in large measure ”accidental,” such as natural disasters and the extinction of dynasties, or finally that they explain the facts being investigated by focusing on secondary factors whereas these factors are in fact determined by the operation of more important processes, etc. A question thus arises in what way one could distinguish clearly between situations in which one scholar advances a claim that is incompatible with the claims of another scholar, and those when both scholars analyze separate issues and there are no real grounds for a dispute between them. Two groups of postulates come to mind at this point. The first group is connected with the need for a more acute methodological awareness. There exists a broad variety of pitfalls that one should not forget about: the facts which are being explained and the facts which are used for explaining are sometimes defined in such general terms that, contrary to appearances, each scholar explains a completely separate issue. Sometimes the facts that scholars use are not confirmed in the sources; claims about the cause of some events may often be ambiguous; completely different facts should be used to refute a given claim depending on whether such a claim is to be understood as involving a sufficient condition, a necessary condition or a condition that is necessary in a specific situation. Some claims are formulated in such a manner that they virtually cannot be either confirmed or refuted and thus without their previous interpretation all substantive dispute is completely impossible. Whereas some scholars refer to the more direct circumstances and others to the more indirect circumstances, each of

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them answers a slightly different question and there are no real grounds for a substantive debate, etc. We are convinced that more acute awareness of these issues may prove helpful in avoiding groundless debates and in settling substantive debates reasonably. The second group of postulates, one which is no doubt far more difficult to implement, concerns the manner in which the task of causal explanation is to be executed. Three separate postulates come to mind in this respect. Firstly, while embarking on causal explanation, one should define precisely what one actually intends to explain. We believe that such realization will greatly facilitate the task of causal analysis. Secondly, it seems desirable that while explaining some fact by means of some circumstances which are related to it in an indirect manner, one should clearly describe the stages of one’s reasoning unless these stages are to all intents and purposes self-evident and completely unimportant from the vantage point of the problem at hand. What we mean here is that one should not create appearances of substantive differences when one scholar explains a given event by means of circumstance A, whereas another scholar explains the same event by means of circumstance Z, which caused event A. The point is that the nature of these differences should be perfectly clear for everyone. Thirdly, a suggestion comes to mind that one should try to define as closely as possible the nature of the relation that is indicated. The point is that it should be clear whether the scholar explaining some event X points to a condition that is sufficient for the occurrence of this event, to a necessary condition, to a condition which is necessary in a given specific situation, to a favorable condition or whether she/he perhaps intends to point to yet another relation. To be sure, we realize that this requirement is not easy to implement. The body of knowledge that is available to the historian sometimes does not allow him/her to determine what kind of causal relation is in operation in a given case. In many cases, she/he is unable to rely either on the principles of social sciences that have already been determined or ordinary commonsensical principles. Yet in order to substantiate the claim that some circumstances of type A did not merely happen earlier than event B but were also the sufficient condition of this event, one must rely on a scientific principle indicating that whenever the circumstances of type A take place then the event of type B occurs as well. And similarly, in order to substantiate the claim that some circumstances of type A are a necessary condition for the occurrence of an event of type B, one must refer to a scientific principle indicating that only when a

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circumstance of type A occurs does an event of type takes place. A historian undertaking to substantiate a claim of this kind who is unable to rely on the relevant principles would therefore have to conduct his/her own independent comparative analysis. One should sometimes also refer to comparative analyses in order to demonstrate that some circumstance of type A was in a given specific situation necessary for the occurrence of event B, and that thus the remaining elements of this situation without A would not have been sufficient to ensure the occurrence of B. It is easy to see that the task of causal explanation, particularly when one intends to determine some more precise relationships, is a laborious and difficult process and sometimes involves even a separate comparative monographic analysis. Researchers who cannot rely on some previously determined principle in order to explain some specific case and who are not in a position to undertake their own independent comparative studies sometimes limit themselves to an ambiguous statement that some circumstances to a large extent determined the occurrence of a process, constituted its important cause or were at its root. Such statements can be interpreted as indicating either strong or weak relationships and as a result of their generalizing nature they are not difficult to undermine. It is clear for us that in the absence of knowledge that is necessary for characterizing the relationship under study precisely one may be disposed to formulate this relationship in vague and unclear terms. It should be emphasized, however, that this is never the only available option. In situations where one can rely neither on the existing body of knowledge nor on independent comparative studies, at least two other options are available in addition to the one described above. Firstly, one can attempt to formulate precisely what kind of relationship is probably involved while emphasizing simultaneously that one’s opinions still remain largely a matter of conjecture and that their proper substantiation would require systematic research. In this way, problems which require further research could be clearly exposed. Secondly, faced with the situation when we are completely at a loss as to the nature of the relation involved, we can limit ourselves to the presentation of facts and claim merely that some facts are “in some way connected” with other facts. Needless to say, only everyday practice of historians can decide whether these options can be successfully applied in their research. translated by Katarzyna Radke

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REFERENCES Arnold, S. (1955). Podłoże gospodarczo-społeczne polskiego Odrodzenia [The Socioeconomic Foundations of the Polish Renaissance]. Warszawa: PIW. Balzer, O. (1915). Z zagadnień ustrojowych Polski [On Constitutional Problems of Poland]. Lwów: Towarzystwo Popierania Nauki Polskiej. Baranowski, B. (1951). Walka chłopów kurpiowskich z feudalnym uciskiem [The Struggle of the Peasants of the Kurpie Region against the Feudal Oppression]. Warszawa: LSW. Baszkiewicz, J. (1954). Powstanie zjednoczonego państwa polskiego na przełomie XIII i XIV wieku [The Unification of the Polish State at the Turn of the 13 th and 14 th Century]. Warszawa: Książka i Wiedza. Baszkiewicz, J. (1955). Kilka uwag w kwestii polskiego procesu zjednoczeniowego [Some Remarks on the Issue of the Polish Unification Process]. Kwartalnik Historyczny 62 (6), 52-67. Bobińska, C. (1954). Wstęp [Preface]. In: W. Smoleński, Wybór Pism [Selected Works], pp. 5-69. Warszawa: Książka i Wiedza. Bobrzyński, M. (1927). Dzieje Polski, t. I-IV [The History of Poland, vols. 1-4]. Warszawa: Gebethner i Wolff. Bujak, F. (1924). Studia historyczne i społeczne [Social and Historical Studies]. Lwów: Ossolineum. Bujak, F. (1918). Przyczyny upadku Polski [The Causes of the Downfall of Poland]. Warszawa. Czarnowski, S. (1956). Reakcja katolicka w Polsce na przełomie XVI i XVII wieku [The Catholic Reaction in Poland at the Turn of the 16 th and 17 th Century]. In: Dzieła, t. II [Works, vol. 2], pp. 147-166. Warszawa: PWN. Grodecki, R. and S. Zachorowski (1926). Dzieje Polski średniowiecznej, t. I [A History of Medieval Poland, vol. 1]. Kraków: Krakowska Spółdzielnia Wydawnicza. Halecki, O. (1919). Dzieje unii jagiellońskiej, t. I [The History of the Jagiellonian Union, vol. 1]. Kraków: Halicz, E. (1955). Kwestia chłopska w Królestwie Polskim w dobie powstania styczniowego [The Peasant Question at the Time of the January Uprising]. Warszawa: Książka i Wiedza. Kalinka, W. (1900). Pisma pomniejsze, t. II [Minor Works, vol. 2]. Kraków: Księgarska Spółka Wydawnicza. Kieniewicz, S. (1956). Problem rewolucji agrarnej w Polsce w okresie kształtowania się układu kapitalistycznego [The Problem of the Agrarian Revolution in Poland in the Period of the Emergence of the Capitalist System], Zeszyt specjalny Przeglądu Historycznego: Z epoki Mickiewicza. Konopczyński, W. (1936). Dzieje Polski nowożytnej, t. II [A History of Modern Poland, vol. 2]. Warszawa: Gebethner i Wolff. Kula, W. (1951). Początki układu kapitalistycznego w Polsce XVIII wieku. Kołłątaj i Wiek Oświecenia [The Origins of the Capitalist System in 18 th Century Poland. Kołłątaj and the Age of Enlightenment]. Warszawa: PWN. Labuda, G. (1955). Uwagi o zjednoczeniu państwa polskiego na przełomie XIII i XIV wieku [Remarks on the Unification of the Polish State at the Turn of 13 th and 14 th Century]. Kwartalnik Historyczny 62(3), 125-149. Rostworowski, E. (1953). Reforma pawłowska Pawła Ksawerego Brzostowskiego [Paweł Ksawery Brzostowski’s Reform in Pawłowo]. Przegląd Historyczny 44, 102-152.

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Rusiński, W. (1956). Drogi rozwojowe folwarku pańszczyźnianego [The Developmental Roads of the Manorial-Serf Estate]. Przegląd Historyczny 47 (4), 617-655. Rutkowski, J. (1946). Historia gospodarcza Polski, t. I [An Economic History of Poland, vol. 1]. Poznań: Księgarnia Akademicka. Rutkowski, J. (1921). Poddaństwo włościan w Polsce i niektórych innych krajach Europy [Serfdom in Poland and Selected Other European Countries]. Poznań: Gebethner i Wolff. Sobieski, W. (1923). Dzieje Polski, t. I [A History of Poland, vol. 1]. Warszawa: Zorza. Sobieski, W. (1924). Dzieje Polski, t. II [A History of Poland, vol. 2]. Warszawa: Zorza. Tazbir, J. (1956). Świt i zmierzch polskiej reformacji [The Dawn and Dusk of the Polish Reformation]. Warszawa: Wiedza Powszechna. Topolski, J. (1955). Problem oczynszowań w Polsce w XVIII w. na tle reform klucza kamieńskiego w roku 1725 [Problems of the Rentification Reform in 18 th Century Poland against the Background of the Reform on the Kamień Estates in 1725]. Roczniki Dziejów Społecznych i Gospodarczych 15, 57-76. Zachorowski, S. (1920). Historya polityczna Polski, cz. I: Wieki średnie. Wiek XIII i panowanie Władysława Łokietka [A Political History of Poland, part 1: The Middle Ages. The 13 th Century and the Reign of Władysław Łokietek]. Warszawa: Polska Akademia Umiejętności. Zientara, B. (1956). Z zagadnień spornych tzw. „wtórnego poddaństwa” [On the Disputed Issues of the So-Called “Secondary Serfdom”]. Przegląd Historyczny 47, 3-47.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

We wish to thank the Department of Philosophy and Department of History of the Adam Mickiewicz University and the Henryk Łowmiański Society for financing the translation of the papers listed below from Polish into English. We would like to thank the editorial board of Philosophy of Social Sciences for granting permission to reprint Leszek Nowak’s paper, “Class and Individual in the Historical Process.” The paper is reprinted from: Philosophy of Social Sciences 35, (1987), 357-376. Moreover, we would like to thank the editorial board of Journal of the Interdisciplinary Crossroads for granting permission to reprint some parts of Krzysztof Brzechczyn’s paper “Contingency in the Historical Process: An Attempt at Explication in the Light of Idealizational Theory of Science.” The parts of this paper published in the volume 2 (no. 1) of this journal, namely from pages 151 to 155 and from 156 to 159, has been reprinted in Brzechczyn’s paper “Methodological Peculiarities of History in the Light of Idealizational Theory of Science.” Furthermore, we would like to thank the editorial board of Polish Sociological Bulletin for granting permission to reprint papers by: Stefan Nowak, “General Laws and Historical Generalizations in the Social Sciences” from Polish Sociological Bulletin, no. 1-2, (1961), 20-32, and Stanisław Ossowski, “Two Conceptions of Historical Generalizations” from Polish Sociological Bulletin, no. 4, (1964), 11-20. Also, we would like to thank the Henryk Łowmiański Society for granting permission to reprints parts of Henryk Łowmiański’s book, Początki Polski, t. V, pp. 437-441 (Warszawa: PWN, 1973), entitled “Why Did the Polanian Tribe Unite the Polish State?” We would like to thank all the authors’ Families and heirs for granting permission to reprint papers of the following authors: Marceli Handelsman, “Possibilities and Necessities of the Historical Process” is a paper “Możliwości i konieczności w procesie historycznym” reprinted from: Księga pamiątkowa celem uczczenia 350-letniej rocznicy założenia Uniwersytetu Stefana Batorego w Wilnie, pp. 1-13, (Wilno 1931). Jerzy Topolski, “The Activistic Concept of the Historical Process” is a paper “Aktywistyczna koncepcja procesu dziejowego” reprinted from:

384

Acknowledgements

J. Kmita (ed.), Elementy marksistowskiej metodologii humanistyki, pp. 255-272, (Poznań: Wydawnictwo Poznańskie 1973). Tadeusz Pawłowski, “Typological Concepts in Historical Sciences” is a paper “Pojęcia typologiczne w naukach historycznych” reprinted from: Studia Metodologiczne 3 (1967), 3-18. Jerzy Topolski, “The Directive of Rationalizing Human Actions” is a paper “Dyrektywa racjonalizowania działań ludzkich” reprinted from: J. Kmita (ed.), Elementy marksistowskiej metodologii humanistyki, pp. 222-236, (Poznań: Wydawnictwo Poznańskie 1973). Jerzy Topolski, “The Model and its Concretization in Economic History” is a chapter “Model i jego konkretyzacja w historii gospodarczej” reprinted from: J. Topolski, Marksizm i historia, pp. 120-145 (Warszawa: PIW, 1977). Jerzy Topolski, Comments are parts of his: Teoria wiedzy historycznej, pp. 411-414 (Poznań: Wydawnictwo Poznańskie, 1983). Jan Rutkowski, “Theoretical Considerations on the Distribution of Incomes in a Feudal Systems” is reprinted from: J. Rutkowski, The Distribution of Incomes in a Feudal System, pp. 42-87 (Wrocław: Ossolineum, 1991). Jerzy Topolski, “Comments” are parts of his: Jan Rutkowski (1886-1949). O nowy model historii, pp. 227-231 (Warszawa: PWN, 1986). Jerzy Topolski, “The Economic Model of the Wielkopolska Region in the 18 th Century” is a paper “Model gospodarczy Wielkopolski w XVIII wieku” reprinted from: Studia i Materiały do Dziejów Wielkopolski i Pomorza, 10 (1970), 57-73. Bogusław Leśnodorski, “There Was Not One Causa Efficiens of Poland’s Partitions” is chapter of his book: Historia i współczesność, pp. 140-150, (Warszawa: PWN, 1967). Andrzej Malewski, Jerzy Topolski, “The Nomothetic versus the Idiographic Approach to History” is reprinted from: Andrzej Malewski, Jerzy Topolski, Studia z metodologii historii, pp. 11-24 and 37-39 (Warszawa: PWN, 1960). Andrzej Malewski, Jerzy Topolski, “On Causal Explanation in History” is reprinted from: Andrzej Malewski, Jerzy Topolski, Studia z metodologii historii, pp. 114-157 (Warszawa: PWN, 1960).