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Philosophy in China

Philosophy in China
What Can We Learn From It ?

Jonathan Ree
China and Chinoiserie
I went on a three-week general tour of China in
November 1975. I know very well that this does
not make me an expert on China; nevertheless
many of the rumours about China that circulate
in the West derive from sources no more authoritative than myself, so I think I have the right
to comment on some of these.

The rumours I mean are utopias about the virtues of the Chinese, such as those being put
about by Shirley Maclaine at the moment. They
have a long history. Antecedents can be traced
at least as far as the Enlightenment: Leibniz,
Welff, Voltaire, and Quesnay, for exanlple,
were all fanatical advocates of Cathay. In 1776
Grimm commented:

The Chinese Empire has become in our time
the object of special attention and of special
study. The missionaries first fascinated
public opinion by rose coloured reports from
that distant land, too distant to be able to
contradict their falsehoods. Then the philosophers took it up and drew from them whatever could be of use in denouncing and removing the evils which they found in their own
country. Thus this country became in a short
time the home of wisdom, virtue and good
faith, its government the best possible and the
longest established, its morality the loftiest
and most beautiful in the known world; its
laws, its policy, its art, its industry, were
likewise to serve as a model for all nations
of the earth.

(1)
The purpose of the various optimistic descriptions of Chinese society was, as Grimm put it,
‘denouncing and removing the evils which they
found in their own country’, and clearly today’s
Chinese utopias have the same function – though
it is worth noting that they are associated with
conservatives as much as with socialists. And
even in the mouths of socialists, it is possible
for them to be conservative in their implications,
since they tend to foster contempt or distaste
for everything in the West, including Western
proletariats and Western socialist organisations.

It is in the context of these Western discussions
that I wish to raise doubts about how much we
can learn from philosophy in China.

Philosophical Chinoiserie
Today, as in the eighteenth century, Western
enthusiasm about China is often based on the
state of Chinese philosophy. A recent example
of the genre is a collection of three articles by
a Canadian philosophy professor, K T Fann.

20

The collection, The Making of the New Human
Being in the People’s Republic of China (Far
Eastern Reporter) was reviewed by Sean Sayers
in Radical Philosophy 10. Fann is avowedly a
socialist and a Marxist; however, he does not
appear to see Western societies in terms of a
struggle against capitalism by a progressive
proletariat, or, indeed, in terms of any kind of
struggle at all. His enthusiasm about China is
complemented by a condemnation of everything
and everyone in the West (including presumably
the proletariat and its achievenlents) for being
‘bourgeois’. He contemplates’ capitalist man’

in his ‘decaying society’ with the kind of comfort,
able cultural pessimism that used to be the stock
in trade of extreme conservatism. For example,
he describes ‘bourgeois society’ as follows:

The motivation of every activity and every
profession is self-interest, profit. Money
beconles the bond of all bonds … The capitalist way of looking at things is so ingrained
in our thoughts that we cannot even recognise
the fact that there are legitimate reasons for
doing things other than making money …

People cannot appreciate the value of an object of art unless a price tag is attached to
it. In their bourgeois way of thinking, everything has a price; otherwise it is worthless.

(p29)
The core of Fann’s enthusiasm for China is a
contrast between Western and Chinese philosophy. Western philosophy is typified by the
‘professional writings of career philosophers’:

In contrast with the traditional philosophy
which begins with wonder, it may be said that
for the Chinese philosophy begins with a task.

Bourgeois philosophers wonder about how to
prove the existence of the external world, or
wonder about the existence of other worlds
(minds?). With good reasons, these problems
do not exist for the workers and peasants of
China. (p15)
To this it can be retorted that in the West too
not only workers and peasants but also many
philosophers are uncontaminated by ‘traditional
philosophy’ as Fann defines it. Fann himself, in
another’ context, has argued this in relation to
Wittgenstein (see his Wittgenstein and Bourgeois
Philosophy’ in Radical Philosophy 8) and to take
less controversial examples, it is surely hard to
dissolve, say, the entire Frankfurt school, or
the phenomenological movement, ‘or Ltikacs, or
Gramsci, or Sartre, or Merleau-Ponty, or
1 Quoted in Hugh Honour’s excellent Chinoiserie: The Vision of Cathay,
London, John Murray 1961 pi!. Se(> also Basil Guy. ‘The French
Image of China before and After Volt~ire’, Voltailoe Studies x.xi(1963)

MarC}lse, or Althusser, into an undifferentiated
mass of ‘bourgeois philosophy’.

China’s -Ideological Campaigns
I will now try to approach an assessment of the
state of philosophy in China without getting entangled in questions about the West. The subject
has to be investigated at several different levels.

First, there is the question of the use of philosophy in mass campaigns of ideological education.

Then there is the question of the meaning and use
of the canonical texts of Chinese philosophy which means, chiefly, a few articles by Mao
Tse-tung. Thirdly, there is philosophy as an
academic subject – as a course of formal,
assessed study in universities and to some extent in schools. I will discuss these three levels
in turn.

For Western visitors the most exhilarating
first impression of China is that all the Chinese
appear to share a feeling of total devotion to
China’s socialist destiny, and a belief that everyone’s effort in achieving it is indispensable. And
this ‘sense of commitment is accompanied by an
ideology of thoroughgoing anti-elitism, according
to which it is up to everyone to be relentlessly
vigilant against China’s internal enemies, and to
be constantly free to demand explanations and
make criticisms of people in positions of power.

To some extent, these feelings and beliefs have
been produced deliberately, as a matter of conscious central policy, by means of mass ideological campaigns. The campaigns are centrally
co-ordinated but based on small autonomous
study groups, consisting of about a dozen people
meeting for a few hours a week. Such groups
originated with the Socialist Education Movement
which followed China’s break with Russia in 1961,
and whose main objective was to explain what had
gone wrong with the Russian revolution. Millions

of copies of Krushchev’s writings were distributed around the country for group study, in the
confident belief that the study groups would
arrive at ‘correct’ evaluations of ‘Krushchev’s
Phoney Communism’.

The Cultural Revolution was itself based on
such discussion groups. Since then, campaigns
have included the ‘Criticise Confucius’ campaign,
which involved learning chunks of the history of
Chinese philosophy, the campaign on the dictator~
ship of the proletariat, which was based on the
study of extracts from various Marxist texts,
and the campaign criticiSing depiction of peasant
revolts in the classic novel, The Water Margin.

This campaign was at its height when we were in
China, and wherever we went we found people

alluding to and saw both home made and printed
posters of scenes from the book, in schools,
factories and on the streets.

These campaigns have provided a common
stock of textual knowledge, of historical reference points, and indeed of stock phrases – ‘the
unity of theory and practice’, ‘the three-in-one
combination’, ‘the struggle for production’,
‘the mass line’, ‘capitalist roadism’, ‘bourgeois
rights’, ‘the four authorities oppressing women’,
‘the three great mountains’, ‘serve the people’,
‘put politics in command’, ‘bad things can be
turned into good’, etc etc, and in general they
have produced a level of mass ideological awareness without parallel in human history.

Mao’s Philosophical Essays
Words like ‘dialectics’, ‘metaphysics’,
‘practice’, ‘contradiction’ and ‘idealism’ seemed
to be in constant use amongst the Chinese, and
everyone appeared to believe in the political
importance of explicit philosophical study, which
means, chiefly, the study of philosophical
articles by Mao. During the Cultural Revolution
they were known mainly through the ‘Little Red
Book’ or Quotations from Chairman Mao, but
this now appears to have fallen into disuse. Instead, people are encouraged to read whole
articles by Mao, including many which are explicitly philosophical in character. These articles
are also the basis of the compulsory philosophy
component of the ‘Political Studies’ courses
which all students in senior middle school (aged
15-17) and in universities and other higher
education institutions have had to take since the
cultural revolution.

A western reader is likely to be surprised by
the familiarity of Mao’s philosophical concepts
rather than by their strangeness. For although
Mao occasionally quotes a slogan from traditional
Chinese philosophy, his philosophical mentors
are thoroughly European: Plato, Aristotle,
Spinoza, Kant, Goethe, Hegel, Rousseau and
even Benjamin Franklin, as well as Marx,
Engels, Lenin and Stalin (2).’ Mao’s philosophy is
not so much Chinese, as an application of Western concepts to a Chinese context.

Mao’s basic philosophical essays are ‘On
Practice’ and ‘On Contradiction’, which were
written in 1937 in deliberate opposition to the
Russian school of Dialectical Materialism (3).

‘On Practice’ is an affirmation of a sort of
empirical pragmatism and a rejection of metaphYSics, theoreticism, and appeals to authority:

Knowledge begins with experience – that is
the materialism of the theory of knowledge …

Marxists hold that man’s social practice alone
is the criterion of the truth of his knowledge
of the external world. What actually happens
is that man’s knowledge is verified only when
he achieves the anticipated results in the
process of social practice (material produc-

Snow,- Red Star over China (1937), ReVised ed. Pen~in
Books 1972, p211; Stuart Schram, Mao Tse-tung Unrehearsed,
Penguin Books 1974, p220
3 cl. Guy Planty-Bonjour, The Categories of Di.llectical Materialism;
Con-!~por~r:L~oyi~t_O!~~()l~.y. Derdrecht. Reidel. 19G7

2 See Edgar

21

tion, class struggle, or scientific experiment).

If a ruan wants to succeed in his work, that is,
to achieve the anticipated results, he must
bring his ideas into correspondence with the
laws of the objective external world; if they
do not correspond, he will fail in his practice.

(Selected Readings p67)
The political implication 0f such remarks, in the
context where they were written, is clear; the
Chinese Communist Party must develop its perspectives from its own practice, rather than on
the basis of the ‘formalistic’ conceptions of dogmatic Marxism. But what of their philosophical
value? Followers of Gramsci or Sartre may
argue that they constitute a ‘simple but genuine
“reappropriation” of Marxism’, specifically of
the Marxist ‘philosophy of Praxis'(4), and the
criterion of truth proposed in ‘On Practice’

.would be hard to disagree with. But this, surely,
is its weakness: it is so indeterminate as to
qualify almost any theory or ideology as ‘true
knowledge’. In particular, Mao’s criterion would
make the entire bourgeois ideology of capitalism
– the idea of everyone’s equality in relation to a
free wage contract – into true knowledge, its
validity being proved in daily practice. To put
this point in the language of another of Mao’s
philosophical essays, written in 1963, to say that
‘correct ideas come from social practice, and
from it alone’ is pointless since presumably
most incorrect ideas come from this source too.

‘On Contradiction’, written a month after ‘On
Practice’, is a more substantial philosophical
work. It relies heavily on Lenin, and, unusually
for its time, on the Lenin of the Philosophical
Notebooks (1914-1915) rather than of Materialism
and Empirio-Criticism (1909). Although going
along with Soviet-style ‘Diamat’ in taking for
granted the idea of a ‘dialectic of nature’, this
essay attacks the ‘idealism of the Deborin school’

of Russian dialectical materialism for failing to
acknowledge the autonomy of particular analyses
of particular contradictions. This essay contains
Mao’s celebrated distinctions between principal
and non-principal contradictions, principal and
non-principal aspects of contradiction, antagonistic and non-antagonistic contradictions; and the
particularity and universality of contradictions.

Somewhat surprisingly, in view of the pragmatism of ‘On Practice’, Mao’s account of these
distinctions is based on a universal, a priori
metaphysical thesis. His starting point is a distinction between internal and external causes between self moving developments and ones
which are externally induced. He then asserts
that ‘the fundamental cause of the development
of a thing is not external but internal’, and his
generalised metaphysical conclusion seems, at
least in some passages, to be a sort of vulgarLeibnizian belief that everything is a ‘windowless
monad’, independent of everything else, and with
the causes of its development lying entirely within itself. One of Mao’s examples illustrates how
paradoxical the implications of this doctrine can
4 Roland Lew, ‘llaOlsm am. lhe Chinese Revolution’, Socialist Register
1975, pp115-159,131
, .

5 cl.Raya Dun.1.yevskaya .• Heaven and Earth Change Places In New
Politics Vo!. X ~’o. 3 Spring 1973

22

be:

In battle, one army is victorious and the other
is defeated; both the victory and the defeat are
determined by internal causes. The one is
victorious either because it is strong or because of its competent generalship, the other
is vanquished either because it is weak or
because of its incompetent generalship.

Presumably Mao would say that if the victorious
army was subsequently defeated, this would
simply demonstrate that it was not so strong or
well led any longer; and any apparently external
factors, such as terrain, unexpected aid, disease, the accidental death of a leader, or freak
weather conditions, would either have tq be
interpreted as internal relations of each of the
armies, or ruled out as having no power to
influence the outcome .

I should make it clear that this criticism of
Mao is not based on any general scepticism about
the concept of internal relations or the distinction
between internal and external causes, The flaw in
Mao’s concept of internal causation, as in his
concept of practice, is not that it is untrue but
that it is indeterminate: it provides no criteria
for distinguishing internally conditioned, selfmoving processes from ones which are externally
conditioned. An example will help explain this.

At one point Mao tries to draw a direct political
conclusion from his concept of internal causation,
namely that the fate of the Chinese revolution
depends purely on the policies and internal organisation of the party – as if it were metaphysically
impossible for the Russians, the Japanese, or the
Chinese bourgeoisie or peasantry to have any influence on it (p90). Similar reasoning would presumably establish that the fate of say the capitalist class in England depends entirely on its own
internal organisation, and is not affected by international competition, the actions of the proletariat etc. At least there is nothing in ‘On Contradiction’ to prevent Mao’s philosophy from leading
to such a conclusion. (5)

The Chinese Use of Mao’s Philosophy, then and now
Although they contain many isolated, quotable,
pungent and true statements, Mao’s philosophical
texts are weak from the point of view of academic:

theoretical research. It is obvious, however,
that they need to be judged not as academic texts
but as political interventions. ‘On Practice’ and
‘On Contradiction’ were written in the summer of
1937, following the disastrous defeats which had
led to the heroic Long March and the establishment of a communist base in Yenan, and during
the Japanese invasion which was to force them
into an alliance with their enemy, the Kuomintang
under Chiang Kai shek. In this situation, the
Chinese party was in danger of being overdependent on the Russians. The political intention
behind Mao’s philosophical writings becomes
clear in this context: they were to provide a
basis for resisting Russian domination of the
Chinese Communist Party. They implied that
every contradiction (such as that between the

J

Chinese CP and the Kuomintang) had to be understood in its particularity, and that the criterion
for judging CCP policies must be its own practice; hence there was no reason for the Chinese
Communists to take their line from the Russians.

These political struggles, however, now belong
to the dim and distant past, and the function of
Mao’s texts, as used in today’s mass ideological
campaigns, must be very different.

Since the Cultural Revolution, workers and
peasants have been encouraged to write philosophy as well as to read it, and to show how it
can be applied to the solution of practical problems. Take for example ‘Keeping Vegetables
Fresh’, by the Peking Chungwen District Vegetable Station Scientific Experiment Group, which
is available along with several similar articles
in a pamphlet published by the Foreign Language
Press called Serving the People with Dialectics.

The article describes the problems of fluctuating
vegetable supply, saying
to solve this contradiction it became necessary
to store surplus vegetables
However, this led to the problem of keeping
stored vegetables fresh, so the Group

th~

set out to use the philosophic teachings of
Chairman Mao to help solve these problems
through scientific experiment
The hardest problem was tomatoes.

We tried storing them, and one day discovered
three of our tomatoes still well preserved
after more than a month. Why had the rest
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spoiled? Here, Chairman Mao’s teaching
that it is ‘in the particularity of contradiction
that the universality of contradiction resides’

gave the clue. If three tomatoes could be
preserved over a month, it should be possible
to preserve all of them.

Three conditions were identified as contributing
to the preservation of the three tomatoes: controlled temperature, humidity, and ventilation.

What was needed was to handle the relations
among the three conditions well. We turned
to Chairman Mao’s teaching that ‘in studying
any complex process in wpich there are two
or more contradictions, we must devote
every effort to finding its principal contradiction. Once this principal contradiction is
grasped, all problems can be readily solved’.

We analysed the three basic conditions of
temperature~ humidity and ventilation and
experimented with different relationships.

The contradiction between temperature and
ventilation was apparently the principal one.

(pp27-28)
What is striking in this example is that on the
face of it the quotations from Mao have no logical connection with the search for ways of preserving tomatoes, and to be a mere distraction
from the process. For instance, Mao’s concept
of the particularity of a contradiction could
perfectly well have been taken to imply that the
preservation of three tomatoes amongst masses
of rotting ones proved that these tomatoes were
intrinSically different from the rest,. rather
than that they were being stored in more suitable
conditions. Similarly, the advice that one should
always grasp the principal contradiction, at
least as long as no procedures are indicated for
identifying it, seems to amount to no more than
a banal platitude to the effect that one should always pay attention to what is most important.

But it would be wrong to leave it at that, and to
conclude that the vaunted ‘principal applications’

of Mao’s philosophy are a mask for mechanical
piety. For phrases like ‘principal and nonprincipal contradiction’, and ‘particularity of a
contradiction’, however indeterminate their
philosophical meaning, do imply a certain
special attitude to the world. However vague it
may be to say that one ought to ‘grasp the principal contradiction’, people who attempt to carry
out the advice will automatically be treating their
problem as something which it is in their power
to solve; they will be adopting a practical orient-.

ation towards the world; and this seems to me to
be the real importance of Mao’s philosophy in
China.

In industrialised, proletarianised countries,
where life and work are dominated by man-made
machines, such a lesson might be less appropriate or less accessible. But China is not like
that. The industrial proletariat is less than a
fifth of the population, and the rest work on the
land with practically no modern machinery. The
rhythms of their work are determined by such
tools as buffalo ploughs and buckets with
23

shoul.der poles; and ‘the patterns of their life
follow the succession of the seasons and depend
upon the climate, soil, etc. Such conditions obviously tend to produce obstacles to economic,
technical, social and political progress in the
form of an unconsidered belief that the conditions
of human life never really change, or at least
change only in response to tactors outside
human control, such as storms and floods.

Seen as attempts to disband the passive, fatalistic ideology of the peasantry, the use of Mao’s
philosophy in China’s ideological campaigns is a
fascinating example of the ways in which a philosophy may need to be judged not primarily as a
source of theoretical illumination but rather as
an aspect and perhaps to some extent an agent
of massive social change.

Philosophy as an an Academic
Discipline in China
Apart from its use in mass ideological
campaigns, philosophy in China is also an academic subject for specialised study in universities, and
the professional vocation of
hundreds of academics. (The philosophy department at Peking University is said to employ 200
professors and lecturers for its 300 philosophy
majors (see Fann p43).

At the beginning of the Cultural Revolution,
academic philosophy was singled out for special
attack in the People’s Daily. An editorial on 16
January 1966 was entitled ‘Philosophical
workers, Pack up and go among the masses’.

It said that there should be a movement to bring
philosophy to the masses, and that it should
realise Mao’s ‘mass line’ in philosophy and
break the. intellectuals’ monopoly of philosophy,
promote the study of Marxism through Mao’s
writings, and recognise that the masses were already doing better philosophy than the philosophers (see Fann p19).

And one of the events that sparked off the
Cultural Revolution was the posting of a big
character poster by philosophy lecturers in the
philosophy department at Peking University on
25 May 1966. The poster criticised the authoritarianism of the University President and two
municipal civil servants and censured them for
trying to make the Cultural Revolution a ‘purely
academic affair’. When we visited the lavish
leafy campus of Peking University weloalready
knew how much the Cultural RevolutiOI had altered university education: as an attempt to
counteract academic elitism, courses have been
shortened (to three years for a first degree),
students are required to spend several years
working in the countryside before being enrolled,
and both teachers and students are required to
do regular stints of manual labour and to go and
teach and learn amongst the masses. We also
knew that teaching methods would be conservative by Western standards. Students, we discovered, are timetabled for seven one-and-aquarter hour periods a day (some of them free)
six days a week, and are taught through lectures
in groups of about twenty, ..their lectures being
24

based on pages of a textbook precisely prescribed
in advance. They all specialise in a single conventionally defined subject, such as English,
philosophy, or political economy and are bound
by their initial choice of specialism. But what of
the contents of philosophy courses following the
Cultural Revolution?

The philosophy course was explained to us by
Li Chin, a philosophy lecturer. The course, he
said, is divided into six semesters, each of them
with some kind of (fairly informal) assessment
at the end. In the first semester, students take a
logic course, in which they are taught Aristotelian classifications of syllogisms. Li himself
taught this course, and claimed that there had
been ‘no great change’ in logic since Aristotle.

For the next four semesters (up to the middle of
their final year), philosophy students take three
concurrent courses, in addition to the ‘political
studies’ course which is compulsory for everyone; these aTe. History of Western Philosophy,
History of Chinese Philosophy, and Dialectical
and Historical MaterialisITJ. In their sixth and
last semesteristudents write a thesis, either
collectively or individually. One such collective
project had been a set of notes on the Analects of
Confucius, which had subsequently been published
Li then explained the History of Western Philosophy cour$e, which he also taught. What he said
was exceedingly familiar to anyone who has come
across so-called ‘history of philosophy’ courses
in the West. Like the American built campus in
which we were sitting, and the entire organisation of Chinese education, it reminded one forcibly that academic culture in China is, historically, an adjunct of Western imperialism. The
course begins with the PreSocratics, but centres
on ‘modern philosophy’ and the ‘battle between
empiricism and rationalism’: it is distinctive
only in appending materialist explanations to this

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old-fashioned account. ‘This is the period of the
risi)1g bourgeoisie trying to overthrow feudalism’

said Li, ‘and therefore of bourgeois philosophy
against feudal philosophy, that is, catholic
theology’. Empiricism and rationalism were
two bourgeois reactions against catholicism,
empiricism being the more radical. In seventeenth century France the bourgeoisie was weak
and therefore had to uphold rationalism, but in
England and in eighteenth century France they
were able to raise the banner of empiricism
(materialism and atheism) against feudalism.

What struck me most in Li’s conversation was
the extent to which his philosophical outlook was
dominated by familiar Western reference points:

For example, when we pressed hinl to describe
recent debates in philosophy, he said that there
had recently been lively discussions about positivism, which had concluded that it was ‘idealist
like Berkeley and Hume’; and when we asked
about the Yin-Yang philosophy of the legalists,
he said that it was partly materialism and partly
‘a priorist’, so that it was ‘like the eighteenth
century French materialists, Holbach and
Helvetius – empiricist in the theory of knowledge
but idealist about history’.

Li and his students, I gathered, would not have
made any ambitious claims for philosophy as a
theoretical discipline. They accepted that the
real philosophical struggles were being waged by
workers and peasants, and did not claim that
their own academic privileges gave them any
philosophical advantage. (The journal Philosophical Research has not been published since

the Cultural Revolution. ) The students, as far
as I could judge, were not concerned to challenge
the account of philosophy in their textbooks and
lectures, and they did not share the Western
obsession with philosophical ‘controversies’.

In fact when I inquired what areas of discussion
and disagreement there were, I am not sure that
I made myself understood. Was there any problem about teaching both formal logic and dialectics? No, said Li, for formal logic was concerned only with the laws of thought and could
only be supposed to conflict with dialectics if it
was mistaken for a description of the external
world. Was there any problem about introducing
what were basically Western philosophical concepts into Chinese language and culture? No, for
although dialectical and historical materialism the heart of philosophy – originated in Europe,
they had been transformed and trans po S ed by
Chairman Mao. Did the Maoist emphasis on
education, moral virtue and culture conflict with
the arguably Marxist ideas of base and superstructure? No, for Marx himself used to admit
that there was a two-way interaction. And so on.

Thus, as one might expect, and perhaps hope,
philosophy as an academic discipline at Peking
is overshadowed by philosophy as used in the
mass ideological campaign. And while the
Cultural Revolution has obviously transformed
the context in which they are taught, philosophy
courses themselves remain traditional and
‘academic’ .

My conclUSion, I admit, is negative: I do not
see that we have much to learn from philosophy
in China. This conclusion is not I think based on
complacency about the state of Western philosophy or on a negative judgment of the role of
Chinese philosophy in China, but I know it will
be seen as provocative by many ‘friends of
China’; I think we should be clear that such disagreements have more to do with the wishes and
dreams of the West than with the realities of
Asian history.

GenllTai distributor: Jaap Rietman, Inc” 167 Spring STTeet, New York 10012,

In our current issue (no. 28):

There is a whole constellation of specialized institutions in New York which by this time we
all ought to recognize for what they arc: immanently antagonistic to the possibility of a
socially pc’nctrating art. To mdkc art a social act not a sham-historical psycho-individualistic
one requires first a modicum of consciousness about the ways in which we have been
conditioned to blindly participate in the world. h is tru~ but truistic to say of this soci;:1
act that it is “individually meaningful.” The current array of sanctioned “art problems”
is mainly a function of the mad tendency to take specialization to the limit, to divide labor,
treat prohlems in a blindly analytic manner, to separate “art,” “politics” and “private

[0

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judd: Robert

Harry Chotiner: The American Revolution and the
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Louis Menashe: The Problem of Solzhenitsyn
David Fernbacb: Toward a Marxist Theory of Gay
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In forthcoming issues:

Richard Lichtman: Marx and Freud
A series of articles on Afro-American politics, history,
and culture

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