## 1. Overview of Conceptual Issues



The problem of progress can be approached from many directions. Three
questions will provide the starting points for this particular
analysis. These are: (1) Does the theory under consideration
rigorously define a conception of human well-being and, if so, what is
it? (2) What causes of long-term improvement and, especially, what
laws of historical development does the theorist propose? (3) What
evidence or reasons does the theorist provide for the aforementioned
causal account? Note that the first question is normative, the second
belongs to social science, and the third is methodological and
epistemological.




To argue successfully that human well-being is increasing over the long term, 
theorists of progress must offer an interpretation of well-being compatible
with that claim. They are committed either to interpret human well-being as a 
single value, or as a set of incommensurable values that are empirically connected. 
In the first case, value monism, the list of compelling alternatives is not long. 
It includes freedom, happiness or utility, and the realization of human 
capabilities. In the second case, theorists can draw on a wider range of values, 
but will have to show that the incommensurable components of human
well-being reinforce each other causally or at least do not clash. As
we will see, faced with the difficulties of the task, some theorists
do not define well-being rigorously. They may, however, formulate a
conception of improvement for a circumscribed domain of social life,
the description of which is a part of their overall account.




Next, each theorist of progress offers a causal story to explain the
improvement in the human condition that he thinks has occurred. The
notion of a universal history, a historical narrative taking all of
humanity as its subject, came to prominence during the Enlightenment.
Universal historians aspired to surpass ordinary historians in breadth
and depth and aimed to penetrate the surface play of events to
discover fundamental laws of historical development. These laws would
not only explain the past, but could be used to predict the future.
Although a universal history need not be an account of improvement,
all accounts of progress rest explicitly or implicitly on a universal
history.




The content of the laws of progress, however, is an object of
contention. Many thinkers, including Hegel and Auguste Comte, view the
development of ideas over time as the fundamental change that causes
overall improvement. Marx, in contrast, regards the growth of the
means of production as primary. Kant represents a third category,
arguing that a tension within human nature itself is the source of
change. We will also see theorists who offer more eclectic causal
stories and, because their accounts of change are more complicated,
are less inclined to formalize their conclusions. Next to content,
thinkers differ in their treatment of episodes of devastation and
conflict and periods of decline. It is hard for anyone to sustain the
argument that improvement is perfectly linear, but some theorists more
than others emphasize that such episodes and eras can be part of a
pattern of long-term improvement. Furthermore, the extent to which
the laws are deterministic varies. Some authors leave little room for
choice and contingency, while others frame their generalizations as
loose trends that constrain rather than determine the course of
events. Authors in the latter category often present their writings
as political interventions that can shape the future as well as
predict it.




Finally, the question of method arises. Most of the authors treated
in this study wrote before quantitative and statistical methods in the
social sciences became widespread. Nevertheless, they do remark on
method, in some cases in detail. The most striking distinction is
between those who rely on *a priori* reasoning and those who
generalize from empirical facts in a social scientific fashion. While
this study will not concentrate on method, *a priori* reasoning
and problematic empirical assumptions will be attended to.



## 2. Pre-Enlightenment Thought



Whether any ancient philosophers proposed a doctrine of progress is a
matter of scholarly contention (Bury 1932, 11; Nesbit 1994, xi).
However, it is clear that the figures of antiquity who exerted the
most influence on later thinkers did not believe in progress in the
robust sense used in this article.




Plato and Aristotle hold a cyclical view of human affairs. They allow
that certain developments occur spontaneously, but also see disaster
and decline as inevitable. In the *Laws*, Plato proposes that
human society begins with the family, then moves through intermediate
forms, and finally arrives at the city-state (680a-682d). In
the *Politics*, Aristotle also presents this progression of
forms (1252a24-1253a4). Not only is man a political animal as a
matter of fact (*Politics*, 1253a2), it is also true that human
excellence is only possible within a city-state with a good
constitution. But unhappily there is no tendency for the city-state,
once achieved, to realize or maintain such a constitution. For
instance, while Aristotle cautiously admits that laws can and should
improve (1269a12-14), Book V of the *Politics* shows that all
constitutional forms--bad and good--are unstable.




Large-scale natural events also play an important role in Plato and
Aristotle's presentation of human affairs. In
the *Statesman*, Plato adopts the traditional Greek story of a
golden age and a subsequent decline, written down by Hesiod
in *Works and Days*. Hesiod tells the story of five races of
men: the golden race (Lines 109-120), the silver race (121-139), the
bronze race (140-155), the demi-gods (156-169b), and the iron race
(170-201). The golden race is the best of all, and the present race,
the iron race, is the worst. According to Plato's story, the
ages described by Hesiod correspond to parts of a cycle during which
the earth rotates first in one direction and then in another. While the 
earth moves in the first direction, the gods oversee the affairs of mankind. 
As a herdsman looks after his flock, the gods tend to the needs of human beings. 
Because they are under the perfect care of the gods, humans do not need to
govern themselves (*Statesman*, 271e-272a). Plato suggests that the
golden age, the era of the golden race, occurred during such a period.
When the earth changes course, a period of chaos ensues, which
corresponds to the end of the golden age. Finally, when the earth
moves in the second direction, people are left on their own, which
explains the other ages described by Hesiod. In the *Laws*,
Plato does not return to this elaborate myth, but endorses the view
that "the human race has been repeatedly annihilated by floods
and plagues and many other causes, so that only a fraction of it
survived" (*Laws*, 677a). Aristotle also entertains the
possibility of periodic flooding (*Meteorology*, 352a29-32) and
suggests that myths may contain the remnants of the wisdom of
destroyed civilizations (*Metaphysics*, 1074b9-13).




After Plato and Aristotle, the most influential early philosopher is
St. Augustine of Hippo (354-430 C.E.). In  *The City of God
against the Pagans*, Augustine presents a radically new, Christian
vision of human history. Some humans, God's elect, are
predestined for heaven. The rest of humanity is predestined for
damnation. Those who are saved belong to the "City of
God" and those who are damned belong to the "City of
man" (426, XV.1). Augustine rejects cyclical accounts of human
affairs for a linear one. He is especially concerned to repudiate the
doctrine of eternal recurrence, which says that events identical in
all respects repeat over and over again. He emphasizes that the
birth, death, and resurrection of Christ are unique occurrences (426,
XII.14) and compares the history of the elect to an individual life
(426, X.14).




Insofar as it is linear, Augustine's narrative of salvation
resembles doctrines of progress. But his emphasis on the City of God
contrasts with the worldly, inclusive vision of theorists of progress.
As we will see, these theorists are concerned with humanity as a
whole, rather than with a part of it. And their focus is on earth
rather than on heaven.



## 3. Enlightenment Views on Progress



The writings on progress of the 18th century drew inspiration from the
intellectual achievements of the 16th and 17th centuries. During this
time, Europe witnessed an explosion of scientific and mathematical
activity. In the natural sciences, the main fields of investigation
were physics and astronomy. Major figures included Copernicus
(1473-1543), Galileo (1564-1642), Kepler (1571-1630), and Newton
(1642-1727). Newton synthesized the work of the previous thinkers to
bring the behavior of bodies on earth and bodies in space under a
single scientific law, the law of universal gravitation. This law
states that two bodies attract each other in proportion to their
masses and in inverse proportion to the square of the distance between
them (Palmer 1965, 265-271).




The discoveries of these scientists had broad implications. First of
all, the success of the new physics in unifying distinct phenomena and
predicting behavior vindicated an underlying paradigm of scientific
investigation and explanation. Second, the rapid gains encouraged an
optimistic view of humans' capability to understand and shape
their world. Here was a clear example of a communal activity in which
one human built on and improved the work of his predecessor. The
activity resulted in the discovery of a scientific law, the law of
universal gravitation, of unprecedented power (Palmer 1965, 271-273).



Two thinkers of the French Enlightenment, Anne-Robert-Jacques Turgot, Baron de Laume (1727-81), and Marie Jean Caritat, Marquis de Condorcet (1743-1794), integrated reflection on scientific discoveries into their writings on progress. Turgot, a minister to Louis XVI, produced two influential works, *A Philosophical Review of the Successive Advances of the Human Mind* and *On Universal History*. Condorcet was inspired by Turgot to write *Outlines of an historical view of the Progress of the human mind*, a piece that echoes many of Turgot's convictions. Although Condorcet wrote his essay in prison during the Terror, he, like Turgot, evinces optimism about the future of France and of humanity as a whole. 




Both authors suggest that philosophical progress is the deepest
condition of scientific progress. Influenced by British empiricism,
Turgot and Condorcet assert that all human knowledge is grounded in
experience. According to Turgot, the renaissance of science first
required an empiricist turn, the abandoning of explanations appealing
to faculties and essences. The scientific experiment then found its
place as the centerpiece of the scientific method and the vehicle of
further progress (Turgot 1750, 45; 1751, 100-01). Condorcet
reiterates these points and also provides a wealth of examples of
recent scientific discoveries (1795, 168-170). Turgot and Condorcet
agree that scientific progress is dependent on mathematical and
technological progress, and vice versa (Turgot 1750, 45; Condorcet
1795, 231).




Although neither author rigorously defines human well-being, both
believe that, over the long term, scientific discoveries and
political freedom reinforce each other and together further it.
Turgot considers the role that political institutions play in
advancing science. He thinks that individual genius moves science
forward. Political institutions are important to scientific progress
insofar as they allow geniuses to flourish. Variation in scientific
achievement is to be explained not by the concentration of genius but
by the institutions that either suppress or encourage it (1751, 88).
Despotic government is bad for genius, while republics nurture it.
Condorcet also remarks that free institutions are the native
environment of scientific discovery (1795, 129). In turn, the growth
of scientific knowledge will advance political freedom (Turgot 1750,
43).




Turgot and Condorcet also hold that short-term decline can be part of
a pattern of long-term improvement. In the intellectual realm, the
path to truth is rocky, and errors are frequently the first result of
reflection (Turgot 1750, 44; Condorcet 1795, 37-38). For instance,
the false scientific philosophy of faculties and essences is born of
reflection on phenomena. In the realm of action, devastating events
like war and conquest can ultimately unite scattered groups of people
and ameliorate political organization (Turgot 1751, 71-2; Condorcet
1795, 51). Moreover, Turgot argues that individuals and groups that
contribute to progress are often motivated by emotion or personal
interest (1751, 69-70). The second observation is related to the
first, since Turgot thinks that the agents of creative destruction are
usually narrowly self-interested or emotion-driven.




Despite their many common convictions, Condorcet and Turgot part ways
on the question of religion. Turgot is generally positive about
Christianity, while a significant part of Condorcet's essay
consists of polemics against religion and especially priests (1795,
123-124). Condorcet states that as scientific knowledge spreads, an
enlightened population will throw off the shackles of religion and its
priests and demand greater freedom.




The Scottish and French Enlightenment were roughly contemporaneous and
grappled with the same social phenomena. It is difficult to draw hard
and fast contrasts between the two bodies of thought, and better to
consider individual authors. So we turn to writings of David Hume
(1711-1776), which are characterized by both naturalism and
skepticism. Hume's essays on political questions reflect his general
philosophical orientation. Although he is less likely than Condorcet
and Turgot to make sweeping comments about progress, he explores the
topic of social development in various interesting ways.




In "Of the Rise and Progress of the Arts and Sciences,"
Hume connects political and intellectual development. He begins with
the presumption that scientific and artistic progress requires a
background of political security. From this claim, he argues that the
arts and sciences cannot arise in a society without the rule of law.
Hume also asserts that no monarchy can develop the rule of law on its
own, while republics must develop the rule of law if they are to
survive at all. He concludes that the arts and sciences first emerge
in republics, not monarchies (1777, 59-62).




Although the arts and sciences have their rise in republics, they may
be transplanted into "civilized monarchies" (67) and
continue to improve in that environment. Civilized monarchies are
those that have learned the rule of law from neighboring republics.
Hume even says that the arts progress more quickly in civilized
monarchies than in republics, because they are useful for flattering
monarchs. On the other hand, according to Hume, the general
population is more impressed by scientific discoveries with obvious
technological applications than by artistic creations. Therefore the
sciences progress more quickly in republics, in which the general
public holds power, than in monarchies (68-69).




Hume thinks that countries can affect each other's progress.
For instance, competition can spur greater progress, and isolation can
cause a country to stall (64-5). On the other hand, countries can
intimidate each other into inactivity (76). Hume also asserts that
the arts and sciences cannot progress indefinitely in a single
country. Once they reach a certain height, members of the next
generation are too intimidated by their predecessors to strike out on
their own (75-76).




A second Scottish Enlightenment figure, Adam Smith (1723-1790), is
often regarded as an economist, but in fact he began his career as a
philosopher. His first work, *The Theory of the Moral
Sentiments*, addressed the philosophy of moral judgment and
action. It is therefore not surprising that the *Wealth of
Nations*, the work on economic growth for which he is best known,
has a deeper philosophical resonance.




Smith's central observation is that, in economic life, it often
happens that individuals in pursuit of their self-interest
nevertheless contribute to the common good (1776, 484-485). It is as
though they are "led by an invisible hand" (485) to take
socially beneficial actions. For instance, Smith argues that the
division of labor is the spontaneous outcome of the human
"propensity to truck, barter, and exchange one thing for
another" (14). Humans engage in this activity for
self-interested reasons. But growth in the productivity of labor in a
society is largely due to a greater division of labor (3). It is
because of a greater division of labor, Smith contends, that the
poorest members of European countries are richer than the richest
members of societies in other parts of the world (13).




Failure to see the work of the invisible hand will lead to unwise
policies. Smith says that, in the absence of government intervention,
self-interest leads each nation to produce only the goods in which it
has a comparative advantage. Self-interested behavior in the presence
of government attempts to support domestic industries actually results
in a worse outcome. One goal of the book is admittedly practical: to
attack mercantilism, the doctrine that dominated economic policy in
Europe from the 16th century onward. Mercantilism holds that
aggressive government intervention is the key to increasing national
wealth. Accordingly, during this time, the governments of Europe
attempted to steer and promote domestic industries, most notably by
placing high tariffs on foreign imports (Palmer 1965, 102). Smith
argues against these policies. He writes that tariffs on imports harm
the nation as a whole, by misdirecting its resources (1776, 485-487).
In general, he says, the government should play a circumscribed role
in the economic life of a country, confining itself to the protection
of property rights, the support of a national defense force, and the
provision of a few other key public goods (745).




Smith's emphasis on spontaneous improvement in economic life
warrants treating him as a theorist of progress. But, given his
worries about mercantilism, it is clear he thinks that this type of
development is fragile. Nations will not maximize their wealth unless
they have the wisdom to allow spontaneous growth to occur. Smith
intends the *Wealth of Nations* to help policy makers recognize
the phenomena that he believes to have correctly identified.




The thinkers of the Scottish and French Enlightenment authors are
empiricists. Unlike them, the German Enlightenment figure Immanuel
Kant (1724-1804) reasons in an *a priori* manner to the
conclusion that humanity is progressing. Kant's writings on progress
consist of a series of short pieces from the 1780s and 90s, including
"Ideas toward a Universal History with Cosmopolitan
Intent," and "Perpetual Peace." In addition to its
reliance on *a priori* reasoning, Kant's work is noteworthy for
its emphasis on world peace and its detailed description of the
domestic and international institutions needed for peaceful
conditions.




Kant remarks that certain trends are compatible with progress, but
cautions that no trajectory can be inferred with certainty from the
facts (1784, 50). His *a priori* argument begins with the
premise that all animals have natural faculties. If nature is not to
be in vain, we must assume that the faculties of an animal can be
developed. Unlike other animals, the human being cannot develop all
of its faculties in a lifetime. If the faculties given to humans are
not to be considered useless, then the only other possibility is that
the human race as a whole, over time, will develop all the human
faculties (1784, 42-44). The progress from one era to another is
measured by the development of human faculties during that time.




Kant thinks that human faculties can reach their fullest expression
only in free and peaceful circumstances (1784, 50), which in turn
require a particular set of institutions. A federation of republics
will mark the final stage of human development. A republic is a state
based on the rule of law whose members are free and equal citizens
(1795, 99). A federation is a group of nations who have agreed to
observe rules of peaceful conduct in their mutual relations (1795,
98ff). Kant argues that the domestic and international features of
this institutional constellation will reinforce each other. Republics
will not go to war with each other because a declaration of war
requires the consent of the public, who are reluctant to pay a
war's price (1795, 100). In turn, domestic conditions will be
improved in the absence of a state's constant involvement in
wars (1784, 49).




The details of the development toward the peaceful federation are
given by Kant's universal history. This narrative is presented
as, at best, consistent with empirical evidence. Kant argues that,
for the most part, human psychology and the natural environment,
rather than human reason, could have driven the human race forward.
First, he attributes progress to the "unsocial
sociability" (1784, 44) of human beings. Humans are social
because they cannot develop their capabilities in isolation. Yet they
are unsocial because they always want to get their own way. These
characteristics lead them to form associations in which all vie for
"status" (1784, 44). These associations are the seeds of
republics. But progressive human activity need not be lacking in
awareness. Kant maintains that a philosophy of progress can
accelerate progress (1784, 51).



## 4. 19th-Century Views on Progress



The 19th-century writers on progress took up and elaborated the notion
that conflict is an essential part of a progressive narrative.
G.W.F. Hegel (1770-1831) is an example of such a writer. Hegel does
not give a straightforward account of human progress. But he puts a
version of universal history at the center of his metaphysics, from
which a narrative of progress can be derived. According to Hegel, the
world as a whole is in the process of development through conflict.
Part of the world's development is the self-realization of its
spiritual aspect, known simply as *Geist*, or Spirit. The
freedom of Spirit is achieved through the achievement of free social
institutions and free human beings. So, we look to human history to
understand the realization of Spirit. Conversely we recognize that
the self-realization of Spirit, an entity not reducible to humanity,
is the true meaning of human history.




The state is crucial to Hegel's philosophy of history. For
Hegel, the state is the "march of God [Spirit] in the
world" (1821, SS258Z). At any point in time, a state or
group of states represent the highest point achieved by humanity thus
far. Hegel thinks that at the time of his writing, the states of
Western Europe play this role. In the *Philosophy of Right*,
he argues that these states, however imperfectly, combine individual
freedom with social unity into one enduring whole. The political
constitution of the society he describes is a constitutional monarchy.
It approximates the never-adopted constitution that Prussian reformers
drew up in 1819 (Wood 1990, 13).




History, according to Hegel's metaphysical account, is driven by
ideological development. Ideological--and therefore
historical--change occurs when a new idea is nurtured in the
environment of the old one, and eventually overtakes it. Thus
development necessarily involves periods of conflict when the old and
new ideas clash. A second account of change is contained in the
master-slave dialectic of Hegel's *Phenomenology of
Spirit* (1807, 143-152; 192-198 ). Certain forms of social
hierarchy are intrinsically unstable. The human desire for
recognition drives social development, which consists of repeated
struggles for recognition, until it reaches the liberal solution. In
the liberal state, slave and masters are abolished, and all recognize
all as free and equal. This arrangement lacks the contradictions
inherent in previous social forms.




According to Hegel, conflict occurs within and between states. But
"world-historical" (1988, 35) individuals, like Napolean
Bonaparte, also have a key part to play in driving history forward.
These great men are often motivated by narrow, personal goals. Hegel
paints a disturbing picture of the historical tendency of great men to
"trample" on and use ordinary ones, but he thinks great men
are ultimately tools as well--of Spirit and its self-realization
(1988, 35). Hegel's justification of war and destruction in the
name of progress reflects his overall philosophy. He holds that we
can be reconciled to negative elements by seeing their place within a
larger pattern. In the *Phenomenology of Spirit*, he
summarizes his thesis in the following slogan: "The true is the
whole" (1807, 11).




Finally, in contrast to Kant, Hegel thinks that war is more than an
engine of progress. Hegel argues that, without war, individuals in
liberal societies become self-absorbed and weak, unwilling to work for
the common good. There is moreover no outlet for human aggression.
For these reasons, war is ineliminable. It will be a feature even of
the rational system of states that marks the end of historical
development.




Karl Marx (1818-1883) adopted Hegel's single-factor model of
historical development but "turned [Hegel] right side up"
(1873, 302) by replacing his idealism with materialism. According to
Marx, the fundamental fact about a society at a given moment is not
its ideological orientation but rather its "productive
forces" (1845, 150), by which Marx means its material and
technological resources. Over the long run, the productive forces
determine other aspects of the society, starting with the relations of
production, the informal and formal rules that define and regulate
property (1845, 151). Marx builds on these assumptions to define
capitalism and communism and to predict the former's eventual
transformation into the latter.




Like Hegel, Marx asserts that conflict drives historical development.
But in Marx's account, conflict occurs when the productive
forces outgrow the relations of production (1845, 196). A different
class of society represents each side of the conflict. The class that
benefits from the outmoded relations of production seeks to maintain
them, while the losing class seeks to destroy them and replace them.
For instance, capitalism emerged from feudal aristocracy when the
merchants, through revolution, rewrote the laws in their favor (1848,
477-8, 484). Capitalism is a system in which land and labor are
commodities able to be bought and sold on the free market. Marx
predicts that communism will emerge from capitalism because the
productive forces developed within a capitalist society will
eventually make capitalist property rights unworkable (1848, 477). At
this point, the working class, or proletariat, will successfully
overthrow the old order (1845, 161-2).




Marx's philosophy of history can seem like a deterministic
materialism that ignores ideas and passes no judgment on the change it
describes. However, this picture is incomplete. First of all, Marx
thinks that consciousness of historical trends will guide at least
some of the future revolutionaries (1848, 481). Second, Marx clearly
thinks that communism is superior to capitalism because it eliminates
barriers to freedom such as alienation and exploitation and replaces
them with a community of free producers (1845, 197). Marx's
early writings--published after his death--show that the
value of freedom was as central a concern for him as it was for Kant
or Hegel.




Among 19th-century thinkers, the French sociologist Auguste Comte
(1798-1857) puts relatively little emphasis on violence and struggle
as a source of change. Comte actually coined the term
"Sociology" (1853 v. 2, 201) to describe the scientific
treatment of human societies and their development. Comte saw himself
as giving sociology its content in addition to its name. But many of
his arguments are not particularly original, including his most
fundamental claim, that intellectual improvement drives progress
(v. 2, 307). His real contribution is to claim that intellectual
development should be understood as change in the form of explanation
employed by individuals seeking to understand the world. The form of
explanation affects social life insofar as it corresponds to a way of
predicting and manipulating events. It is true that this argument is
implicit in the writings of earlier thinkers such as Turgot and
Condorcet. But, unlike his predecessors, Comte works it out
systematically.




Comte's main sociological law is that every science goes through
three stages, which he terms the theological, the metaphysical, and
the positive (1853, v. 1, 2). In the theological stage, scientific explanation
is governed by the assumption that natural events are caused by divinities. 
In turn, 
humans attempt to affect natural outcomes by appealing directly to the gods or 
God to take action. The metaphysical stage follows, in which phenomena are 
explained by referring to the abstract
essences that entities are supposed to possess. The third phase, the
positive phase, explains phenomena by formulating scientific laws and
then subsuming individual phenomena under them (2). Humans cannot
change these laws, but they can use their knowledge of them to predict
and shape events. The positive stage is the most modest in its
epistemological aspirations. Unlike the other two, it organizes
appearances rather than looking beyond them (v. 1, 2, 4). However, it
is the most successful of the three stages in guiding human
intervention into nature. This is no accident, since the same
practical concerns that motivate scientific activity drive scientific
development. For Comte, the ultimate motivation for scientific
activity is practical: "From Science Comes Prevision: From
Prevision Comes Action" (1853, v. 1, 21).




While Comte holds that the driving force of human progress is
intellectual development, he asserts that progress itself consists in
moral improvement. Comte refrains from claiming that humans are
becoming subjectively happier (1853, v. 2, 232). Instead, despite his
rejection of Aristotelian metaphysics, Comte invokes a form of human
flourishing akin to Aristotle's in the *Nicomachean
Ethics* (1097b22-1098a17). Comte claims that human excellence is
exercising the uniquely human capacity for reason. The human race is
progressing because humans are becoming more rational and less
emotional (v. 2, 299).




In the final part of his career, Comte turned his attention to
political theory. He had already rejected as
"metaphysical" certain building blocks of the theory of
liberal democracy, including popular sovereignty (1853, v. 2, 155-6)
and liberty of conscience (v. 2, 151). In *System of Positive
Polity*, he envisions a socialist society governed by a few
unelected officials, who are in turn educated and advised by an elite
priesthood of social scientists (1875 (51), 82). Guided by the
principle that the temporal and spiritual powers of society should be 
separate, Comte emphasizes that the priests of positivism should not exercise
political leadership themselves (170). Comte appeals to the same principle to
justify the exclusion of women from public life (197). He explains that
women wield spiritual power as mothers and wives (260-1), 
and their spiritual authority would be jeopardized if they were to pursue a 
vocation outside the family.




John Stuart Mill (1806-1873), Comte's contemporary, admired his
progressive philosophy of history (Mill 1865, 106) and shared his
respect for scientific expertise (97). But Mill was disappointed by
Comte's basic distaste for democratic freedom and individuality
(Mill 1865, 181). Unlike Comte, Mill thought that a strong,
scientifically oriented society could be a liberal democracy. Such a
society would best maintain the gains already achieved and nurture
further improvement. Mill articulates his twin commitment to progress
and liberal democracy in his major writings, including *A System of
Logic* (1843), *Utilitarianism* (1861), *On Liberty*
(1859), and *On Representative Government* (1861).




Mill's writings establish connections among utility, liberty,
and political institutions. Like his father, James Mill, and Jeremy
Bentham, Mill is a utilitarian. Utility, or aggregate pleasure (1861b,
137), provides the ultimate standard for comparing two historical eras
or two contemporaneous societies. The claim that humanity is
progressing means that utility is increasing over time. Then, in *A System of Logic*, Mill, following Comte (606), argues that the
development of ideas drives the development of society as a whole
(604). Finally, in *On Liberty* and *On Representative
Government*, Mill considers how a society's institutions can
retard or accelerate ideological development.




Mill thinks that it is impossible to find a single set of institutions
that is progressive for all times and places. The most that we can do
is to specify what institutions are best for societies at a given
level of civilization. Mill controversially argues that despotic
governments may push "barbarians" to the next level of
civilization (1859, 14-15). But Mill argues that in more advanced
societies, free institutions promote further progress. They do so by
allowing ideological conflict, which is a powerful engine of
ideological development. Mill worries about the transition from one
set of institutions to another. Civilizations can reach a certain
level of development and then stagnate because they do not undergo
institutional change (1861a, 234-5).




Despite his reputation as a classic Victorian progressive, Mill is
more cautious and less deterministic than the other 19th-century
writers treated by this essay. He believes that continued improvement
is possible, but not by any means inevitable. Progress in Europe will
come to a halt if institutions silence society's creative
members (1859, 80-82). Mill's works derive their urgency from
the fact that he clearly thinks they can make a real
difference. *On Liberty* focuses on the argument for
government non-interference. *On Representative Government*
discusses some of the ways that democratic institutions could be
reformed to promote different points of view actively.




A fellow Victorian philosopher, Herbert Spencer (1820-1903) is much
more deterministic than Mill. Spencer views human progress as one
aspect of a universe in perpetual development. Spencer constructs his
explanatory framework from materials from the biological sciences. He
is keenly interested in theories of biological evolution, both
Lamarckian and then Darwinian.




Understanding Spencer's theoretical orientation requires some
background in 19th-century biology. Darwin's theory of evolution was
not the first modern attempt to account for diversity of life on the
planet without invoking an act of divine creation (Levins and
Lewontin, 1985, 27-28). Jean-Baptiste Lamarck (1744-1829)
explained the apparent match between each animal species and its
environment by positing that individual animals could acquire and pass
on adaptive characteristics. This explanation requires, first of all,
that animals strive to adapt to their environment. Second, it
requires that the animals change physically as a result of their
efforts, and third, that they pass on their acquired characteristics
to their offspring (Levins and Lewontin, 30). In contrast, Darwin
hypothesized that randomly occurring variation among individual
organisms could be preserved or destroyed in the population of
organisms through differential reproductive success. That is, he
conjectured that some characteristics are correlated with the ability
to produce a greater number of offspring. These characteristics will
tend to increase in a population over time. Darwin called this
mechanism natural selection. Natural selection bypasses the
problematic assumption that individual organisms could alter
themselves through deliberate effort. Yet it can still explain why
organisms seem to fit into their natural environment so well (Levins
and Lewontin, 1985, 31-34).




In *Social Statics*, Spencer asserts that evil is never
permanent (59). He reasons to this conclusion from two premises.
First, he defines evil as the "non-adaptation of constitution to
conditions" (1841, 59). Second, he claims that all living
beings gradually change to fit into their environment (59-60). He
lists a great number of natural phenomena that supposedly illustrate
this law (60). At the point of writing, Spencer was a Lamarckian, but
he later maintained essentially this argument as a proponent of
Darwinism. Evil in the human sense exists because human beings, by
virtue of their selfishness, are unsuited to social living. But this
variety of evil, like all evil, will pass away as humans adapt to their
circumstances. He defines progress as the evolution of humans from
selfishness to selflessness (1841, 63).




In "Progress, its Law and Cause," Spencer makes a
different argument. He defines progress as "an advance from
homogeneity of structure to heterogeneity of structure" (1857,
v. 1, 9). Progress occurs by way of "successive
differentiations" (10). The law of progress is simply that
"every active force produces more than one change--every
cause produces more than one effect" (37). Spencer claims that
all phenomena exhibit the same development from the simple to the
complex for this same reason. He finds evidence for progress in
astronomy (10-11), geology (12-13), and linguistics (23-4).




The modern literature on progress generally argues that European
science, culture, and institutions are the best in the world at the
time the author is writing. But claims or insinuations that Europeans
are biologically superior are rarer. Turgot, as we have seen, states
that individual genius occurs as frequently among non-Europeans as
among Europeans. Nor do Mill's claims for European superiority
rest on biological arguments (1859, 80). In other words, the
paradigmatic progress narrative shows Europeans setting the standards
and then the rest of the world catching up until everyone is a full
participant in an enlightened order.




The introduction of biological evolution into writings on progress
enabled a new form of Eurocentrism, one founded on biological
racism. Spencer enlists evolutionary theory to claim that different
races of human beings exist and form a clear hierarchy: "The
civilized man departs more widely from the general type of the
placental mammalia than do the lower human races" (1857, 18).
This includes mental characteristics: "Judging from the greater extent
and variety of faculty he exhibits, we may infer that the civilized
man has also a more complex or heterogenous nervous system than the
uncivilized man" (1857, 18). Spencer's racism is central to his
view of humans as a group and of human potential. Ultimately it calls
into question whether he can be said truly to propose an account of
progress.



## 5. Criticisms of the Doctrine of Progress



If the 19th century is the high water mark of progress narratives, the
following period is the era of critics. In general, criticisms of the
doctrine of progress fall into two categories. The first category
contains straightforward denials of the claim that the human condition
is improving. The second category consists of condemnations of the
doctrine of progress on skeptical grounds.




Consider the first group of criticisms. If the human condition is not
improving, either circumstances are getting worse, or they are
fluctuating between some upper and lower bound. Each alternative is
certainly arguable. Horrific human catastrophes, such as the
genocides, wars, and environmental destruction of the 20th century,
can bolster the argument that things are getting worse. But less
dramatic evidence, like increasing alienation in industrialized
societies, could be cited in support of the same claim. Then there
are those who emphasize that natural limits will keep the human
condition within certain bounds. Either the natural environment or
human nature could place limits on improvement and, for that matter,
on deterioration.




The previous criticisms take for granted that it makes sense to speak
of the human condition as improving or declining. But one can
question whether these statements are truly coherent. To vindicate
such sweeping claims, it must be possible to construct an ordering of
past, present, and future states of affairs. But, in reality, it is
sometimes difficult even in the case of individuals to say whether
changes have been improvements or not. Consider the person who is
forced to reflect and regroup after a mild setback. In the period
immediately after the setback, the person is less content but acting
with greater autonomy. To evaluate the change in the person's
state, we must treat the values of being content and being autonomous
as commensurable, and some will argue that they are not. Evaluating a
change in an entire society involves the same kinds of difficult
comparisons, plus a whole collection of additional ones based on
distributive concerns. For instance, if a society becomes wealthier
and less egalitarian over time, is this an improvement or not?
Finally, even if we think a complete ordering of states of affairs is
achievable, we might question the use of dialectical accounts to
justify violence and catastrophes. Why should we be reconciled to a
violent war just because it set the stage for institutional
improvement?




Other skeptical arguments point to the difficulty of inferring broad
historical laws from available evidence. In pursuit of a universal
history, most theorists refuse to create *a priori* accounts
and instead rely on empirical inferences. It is possible to attack
the grounds on which theorists infer trends from past and present
social phenomena. For instance, it is a mistake to equate temporal
and spatial distance. Theorists sometimes use contemporary reports of
America or Africa to draw conclusions about an earlier time in Europe.
Or, they take what they know about their own history and make
assumptions about "primitive" societies based on that
information. Finally, even if one accurately captures a trend, it is
difficult to extrapolate into the future. If we view humans as free,
as long as institutional arrangements leave room for choice, the
future is not entirely predictable.




All these arguments appear in the writings of critics of progress.
Providing a comprehensive survey of the critics is beyond the scope of
this article. Instead, the next section will treat a few important
authors who reject the doctrine of progress, as well as one who
attempts to revive it. Not all of the critics considered are
pessimists. One may point out the possibility of a bright future
while emphasizing that it is up to humans to choose it.



## 6. The 20th Century and Beyond



Some of the deepest criticisms of progress were produced during and
after the catastrophes and upheavals of the 20th century. Theodor Adorno
(1903-1969) wrote *Minima Moralia*, a collection of short
pieces, during World War II and its aftermath. This work addresses a
variety of interlocking topics relating to fascism, capitalism, and
the war. As a German and a Jew in exile, Adorno is concerned to
confront Nazism and the Holocaust. Given his intellectual background
as a scholar of Hegel and Marx, this confrontation takes the shape of
a critique of Hegel's philosophy of history. Recall that Hegel
claims that a reflective individual who surveys the course of history
will be reconciled to tragedies when he understands their contribution
to progress overall. Adorno is viscerally repulsed by this notion.
He notes with indignation: "Millions of Jews have been murdered,
and this is to be seen as an interlude and not as the catastrophe
itself" (1951, 55).




Adorno attacks Hegel from two directions. First Adorno is simply
skeptical that fascism and the Holocaust can be part of any upward
historical trend (55-6). Second, he points to a tension in
Hegel's own thought. He notes that, in the *Phenomenology of
Spirit*, Hegel advises "tarrying with the negative"
(1807, SS32), which means giving the negative moments in
history a full dose of philosophical attention. However, Adorno says,
in practice Hegel often moves past human evils and individual fates in
a cursory fashion (1951, 16-17), hurrying toward the stage of
reconcilation. Adorno proposes a new method of examining history for
meaning, exemplified by *Minima Moralia*, that dwells on
individual experience and catastrophe. Theoretically, Adorno reverses
Hegel, asserting "the whole is the false" (Adorno 1951,
50).




In *Minima Moralia*, Adorno mentions that the writings of
Walter Benjamin (1892-1940) are an inspiration to him. In the "Theses
on History," Benjamin offers a similar criticism of the Hegelian and
Marxian philosophy of history. The ninth thesis perhaps speaks for
itself:




> 
> A Klee painting named "Angelus Novus" shows an angel looking as though
> he is about to move away from something he is fixedly contemplating.
> His eyes are staring, his mouth is open, his wings are spread. This
> is how one pictures the angel of history. His face is turned toward
> the past. Where we perceive a chain of events, he sees one single
> catastrophe which keeps piling wreckage upon wreckage and hurls it in
> front of his feet. The angel would like to stay, awaken the dead, and
> make whole what has been smashed. But a storm is blowing from
> Paradise; it has caught in his wings with such violence that the angel
> can no longer close them. This storm irresistibly propels him into
> the future to which his back is turned, while the pile of debris
> before him grows skyward. This storm is what we call
> progress. (Benjamin 1941, 257-8)
> 



Benjamin reverses the Hegelian worldview poetically, just as Adorno
does so theoretically.




Decolonization presented a second occasion for rethinking the concept of
progress. In the twenty years after World War II, the European powers relinquished 
the vast majority of the non-European colonies still in their possession 
(Hunt et. al. 1995, 996-99). Scholars from the former European colonies, 
reflecting on the colonial past, have noted that European apologists for 
colonialism claimed that it modernized the supposedly backward non-European world. 
In other words, the apologists situated colonialism in a progress narrative. 
Implicitly or explicitly, postcolonial critics hold that this use of the concept 
of progress calls it into question. 




Beyond this common core, the criticisms offered vary. For instance, Samir Amin's 
study  *Eurocentrism*  is concerned to criticize a particular conception 
of progress. This conception, which he terms Eurocentrism, characterizes all major 
historical innovations as European. It also views capitalist democracy as the ideal
social system and colonialism as instrumental in spreading it throughout the world 
(Amin 1988, 108). Finally, Eurocentricism holds that current global economic 
inequality is caused by internal features of individual countries (77) and is in 
principle eliminable (111). Now, Amin does not reject the project of identifying 
macro-historical movements. His reasoning is, in fact, influenced by Marxism. 
He seeks only to replace Eurocentrism with a truer account. To do so, he first 
presents an alternate sketch of historical development that shines light on 
non-European contributions. He next argues that current global inequality is
produced by international capitalism and cannot be eradicated without dismantling
that system (112-14). He ends by stating that some form of socialism is the only 
stable and humane political system, although it is far from inevitable (152). 




Postmodern postcolonial theorists offer a more radical critique of
European progress narratives than Amin does. Michel Foucault, the
French historian of ideas, is a major influence on the school.
Foucault holds that discourses are what constitute and empower the
subjects that make history. Thus he takes discourses as the
fundamental objects of historical study. In *Orientalism,*
Edward Said (1935-2003) applies Foucault's method of discourse
analysis to 18th-, 19th-, and 20th-century writings about the Middle
East by British and French novelists, travelers, and academics (Said
1978, 201). At the heart of the discourse of Orientalism is the
conviction that the countries of the Middle East lag behind those of
Europe and can only improve under the tutelage of Europeans (172,
205-06). Said argues that the discourse of Orientalism laid the
foundation for the colonial project and supported it once it was
underway (210). In addition to Said, the historians of the subaltern
studies movement have adapted a Foucauldian view of history, in their
case to analyze Indian colonial history (Prakash 1994, 1480). They
have drawn attention to historical actors they term
"subaltern." These are non-elite Indians that challenged
the discourses of both colonialism and anti-British nationalism by
exploiting inconsistencies in those discourses (1482-3).
Although at odds in many ways, both discourses drew heavily from
progress narratives (1475). In general, postmodern postcolonialists
aim to show that the typical universal history is one discourse among
many incommensurable discourses, none of which are without
inconsistencies.




So far, we have seen how the events of the 20th century provoked
criticisms of the typical European progress narrative. In contrast,
the collapse of communism inspired a minor revival of the traditional
progress narrative. In his 1989 article "The End of
History?" Francis Fukuyama proclaims: "What we may be
witnessing is not just the end of the Cold War ... but the end of
history as such: that is, the end point of mankind's ideological
development and the universalization of Western liberal democracy as
the final form of human government" (1989, 3). This article and
its companion book, *The End of History and the Last Man*,
endorse Hegelian social theory as Fukuyama interprets it. For
Fukuyama, Hegel at once offers an idealist theory of social change and
champions liberal democracy. Fukuyama argues that, according to
Hegel, history entered its final phase when the principles of liberal
democracy first motivated a world historical event, namely the French
Revolution (1992, xvii; 199). After that crucial point, no more major
developments were in store, but instead the gradual spread and
realization of the liberal democratic ideal.




Of course, this argument was seriously challenged by the rise of
fascism and communism in the 20th century and the conflicts that
ensued. But Fukuyama in 1989 was maximally situated to defend Hegel
and to argue that these ideological alternatives to liberal democracy were
essentially deviations from deeper trends. According to Fukuyama,
fascism clearly failed by the mid-century (16-17) and now, with the
fall of the Soviet Union, it was evident that communism was also a
dead end. Fukuyama states that the proximate cause of the Soviet regime's fall 
was its lack of legitimacy with the governing elite (30-1). The elite lost faith in 
the regime because they saw that it was ideologically bankrupt (31).




According to Fukuyama, liberalism's great ideological rivals
failed in the long term for two reasons. First of all, communism has the 
wrong theory of economic management (40, 93-95), and could not provide long-term
economic prosperity (28-29). Thus Marx's claim that capitalism
was materially unstable proved true of communism instead. Second,
following Hegel, Fukuyama asserts that only liberalism can satisfy the
human desire for recognition in a stable fashion.




Fukuyama ends his book with an intriguing consideration of
Hegel's view of war. Fukuyama agrees with Hegel that liberal
democracy's greatest weakness is its tendency to produce selfish
and effete bourgeois types. But he points out that war--at least
modern war--is destructive rather than invigorating (1992, 335).
He asserts that World War I was caused partly by widespread
restlessness (331-332), but its result was to devastate rather than
re-energize Europe (335). It may be that those who wish to abolish
war are naive, but Fukuyama argues persuasively that Hegel's
view of war is equally naive.




Unlike Fukuyama, John Rawls (1921-2002) never argues that the liberal
democratic ideal is the necessary endpoint of historical development.
Instead, Rawls's first priority is the justification of a particular
conception of liberal justice, one that supports basic political and
civil freedoms, and also dictates significant economic redistribution.
At the same time, influenced by Kant and Hegel (2000, 330), Rawls is
concerned to show that the ideal he describes is possible (1996,
xx). By this, he means that it is reachable from the present and, once
attained, capable of lasting "in perpetuity" (1971, 131;
1996, 18). He also intends for his demonstration of a just
society's possibility to increase its probability: he claims
that the Weimar Republic disintegrated into Nazism because its main
players lost faith in the idea of a pluralistic society (1996,
lxi-lxii).




Rawls defines a "well-ordered society" (1971, 4) as a just
society whose members understand, endorse, and act from the principles
of justice, and moreover are aware of each other's attitudes. A
well-ordered society is "stable" (1971, 455) if its just
institutions nurture rather than thwart the appropriate attitudes in
its members. Thus a stable well-ordered society is one whose
institutions are reproduced over time by informed, morally motivated
citizens. Part III of *A Theory of Justice* argues that a
society satisfying Rawlsian liberal principles of justice will be
stable.




In *Political Liberalism*, Rawls yokes the question of the
persistence of a liberal society to the question of its emergence.
Rawls draws on familiar historical events to illustrate how his ideal
society could emerge. He notes that freedom of religion started as a
"modus vivendi" (1996, xli), or practical solution, to the
wars of religion between Catholics and Protestants. Both groups
agreed to the solution because they were exhausted by the fighting,
not because they endorsed freedom of religion for its own sake. Yet
over time Europeans came to endorse freedom of religion on deeper
grounds than their immediate self-interest (xxv-xxvii).




Rawls thinks that political liberalism extends freedom of religion to
moral worldviews in general. Thus he hopes that an analogous path could lead to 
the emergence of a well-ordered society. Individuals could first choose 
principles of justice as compromises to persistent moral disagreements, and over 
time come to endorse such principles for their own sake. Respectful public 
debate--what Rawls calls the use of "public reason" (1996,
213)--will aid the transformation (1996, 165-67). Over time a
society of many competing worldviews--or "reasonable
comprehensive doctrines"--can come to an "overlapping
consensus" on principles of justice governing the public sphere
(1996, 134). Other remarks suggest a different path to the same
situation. Here Rawls suggests that his theory is an immanent working
out of ideas already "embedded in our public life" (1980,
307). This ideological connection to the present should at least
facilitate the emergence of a more just society. In this way, Rawls
combines optimism and realism, rejecting the doctrine of progress but
emphasizing the possibility of lasting improvement.




In contrast to Rawls' basic optimism, environmentalists have recently
produced some of the most alarming criticisms of the idea of progress.
Jared Diamond and Ronald Wright are examples. The authors share three
basic theoretical commitments. First, they point to the natural
environment as the most important determinant of long-term social
stability and change. Next, they appeal to historical examples to
argue that change is non-linear and that environmental variables
explain the non-linearity. Then, extrapolating from past collapses,
they argue that recent growth rates should not encourage optimism.
Instead, global collapse is a real possibility.




Diamond's first book, *Guns, Germs, and Steel* (1997),
begins with the Columbian encounter. Diamond asks why the Europeans
conquered the Americans, rather than the other way around. Assuming
that the answer lies with Europe's technological advantage over
the Americas, Diamond arrives at a second question. Why, in the late
15th and early 16th centuries, did the Europeans have this advantage
(1997, 15)? If all pre-historic peoples began roughly at the same
starting point, this question implies a third: Why did pre-Columbian
rates of development vary so much worldwide (16)? Appealing to recent
research in scientific anthropology, Diamond argues that environmental
variation satisfactorily accounts for the corresponding social and
technological variation. Diamond defends the thesis that features of
the natural environment, and the technology they directly enable, are
the driving forces of long-run development (1997, 87).



 Wright's *A Short History of Progress* (2004) also
argues for the primacy of environmental variables, but shifts the
focus away from differential rates of development. Wright states that
what is truly surprising is the similarity among developmental paths
in areas isolated from one another (2004, 50). In both Europe and the
Americas, we see a movement from illiterate, egalitarian
hunter-gatherer societies to complex and hierarchical
agriculturally-based ones. At the time of their confrontation, the
worlds of the Spanish and the Aztecs were more alike than they were
different. Wright takes the similarity as strong evidence that
universal environmental features and human needs drive development
(51).




The trajectory from simplicity to complexity appears linear. But
Wright and Diamond argue that appearances are misleading. Looking
closely at human history, we see many instances of collapse.
Understanding the cause of circumscribed collapses in the past will
foster healthy skepticism about where the human race as a whole is
headed. Wright looks at failed societies such as the kingdom of Ur,
Ancient Maya and Rome, and Easter Island. Diamond's second
book, *Collapse* (2005), considers some of the same failures.
Failures occur when societies enter a progress trap (Wright 2004, 5).
A progress trap is a practice that drives environmentally
unsustainable growth and is difficult to halt once it is in motion.
Although this definition of the term 'progress trap' is due to
Wright, Diamond studies essentially the same phenomenon and traces
the process in greater detail than Wright does.



Assume the growth of a society is determined by its ability to exploit
the natural resources that it possesses. Assume that it will exploit
them to its full potential. As the society grows, its ability to
exploit its environment increases, which in turn causes it to develop
further. Growth is not constant but accelerating. The society grows
exactly up to the point at which its resources are depleted. At that
moment, the rate of development and the level of development are at a
maximum. Immediately afterwards, with the material foundation of
society gone, a dramatic collapse occurs. Not only does past growth
not mean future growth, the trajectory is virtually discontinuous at
the moment of collapse.




This trajectory presupposes that the society makes no attempt to renew
the resources on which it depends. Diamond isolates factors that
explain the blindness, one especially important one being the
adherence to dysfunctional value systems (432-434). Wright speaks of
"sticking to entrenched beliefs and practices [and] robbing the future
to pay the present" (2004, 79). For Diamond, the factors are
changeable by individual and collective acts of will. Unlike Wright,
Diamond documents successes as well as failures: societies that
recognized and altered their unsustainable practices before it was too
late. Historical examples of these include Tokugawa, Japan (2005,
294-306), and Tikopia, an island in the South Pacific (2005, 286-93).
These societies were flexible and farsighted where unsuccessful ones
were rigid and focused on the present.




Wright and Diamond see various aspects of the present as dangerous,
including the growth of population and pollution (Wright 2002, 128),
and the depletion of crucial resources (Diamond 2005, 487-490). These
are the features of a civilization immediately before a
collapse. Wright (2004, 64) and Diamond (2005, 118-119) suggest that
increasing interconnectedness means that the globe will succeed as a
whole or fail as a whole. But, ultimately, neither author is a
complete environmental determinist or a complete pessimist. Diamond
suggests that same kind of collective rationality that has prevented
small-scale collapse can prevent global collapse (2005, 522). Unlike
Diamond, Wright is not detailed in his recommendations for change and
his vision of a truly sustainable globe remains murky. But he too
thinks that in the next 100 years, individual and group choices will
determine whether or not collapse occurs (2004, 130-132).




The idea of progress is complex enough that it has attracted many
types of criticism, and some of them seem especially hard to refute.
For one thing, the determinism inherent in the idea of progress is
difficult to maintain. It is telling that many of the theorists do
not incorporate their act of writing and the reception they hope for
into a deterministic framework. Second, whether we agree with the
precise claims made by Diamond and Wright, it is now clear that
natural limits on growth exist. The exact limits cannot be known for
certain unless they are reached. But rather than proceeding as if no
environmental limits exist, it is more prudent to estimate the limits
and develop policy accordingly. It is better to slow down and come to
a halt a few feet before a brick wall than to ignore it and slam into
it.




For those who reject the idea of progress for these or other reasons,
why care about theories of progress? Not all components of the
writings on progress are equally problematic. Three seem especially
worthwhile. First, theories of progress draw attention to the power of the 
Western scientific paradigm. Next, some theorists of progress formulate plausible
normative standards for individual domains of human life. Last, the
writings on progress contain some of the most powerful statements of
the Enlightenment ideals of freedom, equality, and cosmopolitan
justice.