The Collective vs. the Individual in "Nordic Philosophy"

Recently I was explaining to a college man studying history seriously for the first time the facts of the Enlightenment and the rise of what we once called political liberalism. Medieval political philosophy, I explained, often likened the society to the human body; sometimes it likened subsets of society to a body, which gave rise to the word "corporation" from the Latin word corpus meaning body. As a member of society (or such a society), your duty was derived from your function as related to the collective: just as the eye's function is to see so that food can be found, and the hand's function to grasp so that food can be obtained, the teeth, stomach, blood, etc., all have individual functions -- but they are all ordered to the common good of the whole. An eye that decided not to perform its function in a way that led to the good of the collective could be said to be diseased (is so said, by Aristotle and the Medievals who followed him). Your duty was thus defined by your function relative to the collective, so that a knight fought by right and duty, and a peasant labored by right and duty; your liberties were defined by your position in the social order, and aligned with the duties you had to fulfill. 

Liberalism inverted the idea that the individual was defined by his assigned place in the collective, and instead had a sort-of equality of rights and duties (allowing for individual differences in abilities, etc). Thus the Founders here spoke in the Declaration of Independence as later in the Bill of Rights of the rights of individuals that the collective had no legitimate power to transgress, and indeed existed wholly to ensure. Similarly, the French Revolution sat down and concocted the Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen shortly after defeating the king's attempt to restore his power over them, and to reduce them back from the sort-of equality they had gained into members of his collective with each their assigned place.

Strikingly, I finished this discussion, both of the modern reactions to liberalism -- communism and fascism -- attempt to restore the collective's priority over the individual. Mussolini explained fascism as a sort of 'corporatism,' drawing on the same Latin as above; all the people belonged to all the institutions, but all of the individuals and all of the institutions were to be ordered to the good of the state which was the collective whole. Communism, of course, establishes a collective which claims the sole right to own property -- no individualist ownership is permitted, nor is your work to give rise to any self-improvement of your station because 'from each according to his abilities,' but 'to each according to his needs.' 

I was thinking about this the other day when I came across this article on the "Nordic philosophy" of Jante, which is built around variations of the rule that “You’re not to think you are anything special.” The article praises the concept as helpful in building better workers; i.e., the worth of the concept is judged from its usefulness in adapting individuals into being better servants of the collective.

How different from that earlier "Nordic philosophy" embodied by Rögnvald Kali Kolsson, Earl of Orkney from 1129 to 1158. You might be inclined to reason that the Viking age was made up of pagans rather than humble Christians, but this is not the case: he was a Christian, and in fact went raiding against the Saracens in Spain and as far as Jerusalem. I own a copy of the book of his poems reviewed there (Crimsoning the Eagle’s Claw by Ian Crockatt), and it is striking how they are so often built around celebrating exactly how this individual is special. The review gives two examples that are on point, one a self-description:
Who’ll challenge my nine skills?
I’m champion at chess,
canny recalling runes,
well-read, a red-hot smith –
some say I shoot and ski
and scull skilfully too.
Best of all, I’ve mastered
harp-play and poetry.
The second is praise of another very special person, a lady of beauty and charm.
Who else hoards such yellow
hair, bright lady – fair as
your milk-mind shoulders,
where milled barley-gold falls?
Chuck the cowled hawk, harry
him with sweets. Crimsoner
of eagles’ claws, I covet
cool downpours of silk; yours.
The other two examples -- and most of the poems not sampled in the review -- are of the type. He praises his crew's special prowess; he praises his ship's special sleekness. He praises his extraordinary journey, unique and special, in traveling from Orkney as far as the Holy Land. 

These two philosophies are ironically placed: the Medieval Norse poet is celebrating individual specialness in the era of collective politics, whereas the Danish workers are celebrating non-specialness and collectivism in the era of liberalism. Perhaps both are in some sense needed, and the reaction of the individual in the corporatist era matches the desire for a collective in an individualist time.

The workers are said to be 'happier' according to the collective philosophy, but perhaps that is so only in comparison to other 20th century workers to which they are compared. The Viking seems to me to be happier than both.

11 comments:

Tom said...

The metaphor of the body remained in common use at least through the 19th century, typically (at least in what I've read) by those who were annoyed at voters and common people and thought they should get back in their place as feet, hands, etc., and let the (allegedly) smart people (the head, of course) run things.

james said...

I judge you are correct in saying "both are in some sense needed." You're better read in these things than I; are there good models that combine the different aspects, the corporate-ness implied in Gen 2:18 and the individualism implied in Luke 14:26?

J Melcher said...

@james, as for good models combining, etc: we of the Christian West have 1 Corinthians 12:10-27.

For the first century and a half since the US's Founding, this notion of individual special contributions to the greater whole was, if not read and heard, on the home book shelf and preached from the local pulpit to just about everybody. Less so after WWI, I regret.


Assistant Village Idiot said...

I will note tangentially that I have been banging the drum for years that happiness research is not only flawed, but perhaps worse than useless, pointing in a reverse direction. The Scandis always score high, and I don't believe a word of it.
https://assistantvillageidiot.blogspot.com/2019/06/denmark-it-depends-how-you-spin-it.html

james said...

Even our language prizes individuality: the "noble gases" are the ones that don't (mostly) react with anything else.
This relates:
https://www.firstthings.com/web-exclusives/2023/10/the-cure-to-our-social-breakdown

Tom said...

On the collective-liberal question in the OP, I thought kings and nobles always believed they and theirs were special. They either got their power through exceptional actions or through special lineage, either way marking them out (at least in their minds) as fit to rule others. It was the commoners who needed to be collectivized. I would be very interested in an earl who wrote about how his farmers grew better crops than anyone else's.

I think part of the question of collectivism in a liberal nation is that liberalism makes the common people ungovernable, and there are always some who have a deep need to govern others.

All that said, I also think people have an internal need to know what their place / role / purpose in life is. Collectivist societies provide that more clearly and forcefully for many people, although I think the roles and purposes provided are often simply what is most useful for the ruling class and not especially related to what the best role for any given person would be.

Grim said...

The king (and everyone else, I'm suggesting) thought of himself as individual, but also his role was defined by the collective. A feudal system had two-way loyalties, and the king had duties to those who had duties to him. His position was justified by the Church (and in political philosophy) by his services to those who served him.

This wasn't just true in Christian Europe. Maimonides, the Jewish philosopher who lived under Islamic rule, wrote that the way you could tell that there was a king was that you didn't get robbed on the roads. Even far from town, you could move about safely because of the service he and his feudal lords and knights provided. The Khans claimed that a woman could walk across their whole territory naked without being molested, and that this was a part of the justification of their rule.

Tom said...

For the feudal system, were the two-way duties really enforceable? Or was this just another excuse for one man to exercise power over another? I don't know much about all this, but once we get to the late medieval / early modern absolute monarchs, it doesn't seem there was much that could be done short of a massive revolution. I think the Russian czars and French monarchs are examples of this.

My question assumes that it was probably true or truer early on, which may also be wrong.

Grim said...

Were they enforceable? Obviously by revolt ; see the Battle of Runnymede, causes and outcomes (to include Magna Carta).

But also yes, definitely, even at fairly low levels. The history of litigation in the Middle Ages is endlessly dense. If you didn’t give a peasant his due, it was likely to be brought to some sort of court. The king’s, perhaps; or an intermediary lord or justice.

Some of this survives in the folk songs, but a lot of the litigation paperwork— well, parchments mostly— also survive.

Assistant Village Idiot said...

It is worth noting that while these courts and decisions often favored the powerful and their friends, there was at least some hope that a lower status person might get justice. In most societies across time and space, this was never true. However slowly and haltingly and hypocritically such things happened in the West, they did happen.

Tom said...

Thanks. That's interesting to know. I often wish I had studied more Western history, but I don't regret studying the Eastern.