The ultimate in organic: Drop City

Through some random series of events on Wikipedia (isn’t that always the way?), I read a short article
on ‘Drop City,’ a 60’s-70’s commune of artists and drug users, which was located on a 7-acre tract of land in Colorado dotted with geodesic domes. Apparently one participant has recently published memoirs from his experiences there. I found online an excerpt of the first chapter of the book, which describes his state of mind shortly before meeting the city’s founders, talking with them about utopia, and leaving for Colorado. I enjoyed his interaction with them — a dialogue that takes place after several rounds of pot:

***

When our stomachs were warmed by the feast and our minds by the marijuana, Curly let out a loud belch.

“Don’t be gross,” Jo said.

He acted shocked. “Oh, excuse me, I forgot I was back in America. In really civilized places a good belch lets your hostess know you appreciated dinner.”

Frinki bared her teeth. “Thank you.”

“That just demonstrates my point.”

“Which point?” Kugo asked.

“This society likes to pretend it’s the apex of civilization, right? They’re so civilized they get grossed out if you belch. And at the same time, everybody acts like a mad dog.”

“Not everybody,” Jo put in.

“Okay, not everybody, at least not all the time. But on the whole this society is based on the principle of the dog fight.”

“We’ve all got the dog in us,” I said. “It’s human nature.”

“Right. You can’t change human nature. But we’re not just dogs. That’s only the lowest side of our nature. We’ve got better stuff in us too. The question is: how much is this society bringing out the dog in people? Is this a plague that has got everybody diseased? Can it be cured? Is it just that the people on top act like mad dogs, so everybody else has to as well? Does that gear this whole society to bringing out the dog in people, so if you don’t act like one, you get pushed to the bottom of the heap, which brings out the dog in you anyway, and you start biting and clawing your way up?”

“Dogs don’t have claws.” Jo corrected.

Curly ignored her. “Or is the dog so ingrained in us that people will always turn the world into a dog fight?”

“I don’t know. What’s your answer?” I said.

He shrugged. “I don’t know either. At least not yet.”

Kugo growled and lit another joint. “All I want is a full belly and some good reefer.”

“Because you’re a highly advanced soul. Not everybody is at your level yet. And won’t be if the people who run this society have their way. They see people like you as a threat.”

“To what?”

“This is the richest country in the world, there’d be plenty for everybody, if only they’d share it. But this society falsifies scarcity to get people like us to clean the toilets of the world for a few dimes. In order to perpetuate the dog fight. It glorifies the dog fight into a universal truth. It claims the best of all things come out of the dog fight. The dog fight is its pride and joy.”

“So what’s the alternative? Nobody’s going to go for socialism in America.” Kugo cut him short.

“I’m not talking about the government running everything. I’m talking about Drop City. That’s the great experiment of Drop City: Is there an alternative? Given decent circumstances, will people act decently? On their own, not if they’re forced to. That’s what we’re trying to do at Drop City. Start all over again from scratch. Everything fair and everybody equal. No rules or expectations. The only thing we have to agree about is that nobody has the right to exploit anybody else. Work when you want to; relax when you want to; find your own balance. Then we let Drop City grow, give it room to take its own shape, like a big extended family, like a living organism.”

Kugo laughed. “And you’re king, right?”

“In a place where everybody can take a good belch, everybody’s king.”

***

The “a belch shows respect in some countries” argument is old-school; I can appreciate that. My mother never seemed to buy it, though.

Drop City’s founders had an intriguing idea in letting their lifestyle spread organically. Test any idea politically, and there’s no way to calculate or register how well it holds up to reality; let an idea run its course with humans free to think and act, and one can tell just how valuable it was in the first place. In the end, of course, ‘Drop City’ suffered from filth, disease outbreaks, and high tensions between occupants. The women ended up doing most of the (thankless) work to keep the community running while it did. When land was eventually sold to a local rancher, the hippies moved on to other things.

Merit, grace, and reward

Is there any sense in which we can say that we (ever) merit (anything whatsoever) from God?

The quick reformed answer is “No, never, not in any circumstance.” But I think that the context of this reply is, in general, a concern that if we can merit anything whatsoever, it appears as though some grace was earnable from God, insofar as we acted (apart from? in spite of?) Him and thereby put Him in our debt. Hence, the definition of grace is negated, and we are left to wonder why it is that we believe a human did anything apart from grace.

I’ve been pondering this passage in the Summa Theologiae, trying to weigh these thoughts in my head and come to some semblance of clarity:

***

Whether a man may merit anything from God?

Objection 1: It would seem that a man can merit nothing from God. For no one, it would seem, merits by giving another his due. But by all the good we do, we cannot make sufficient return to God, since yet more is His due, as also the Philosopher says (Ethic. viii, 14). Hence it is written (Lk. 17:10): “When you have done all these things that are commanded you, say: We are unprofitable servants; we have done that which we ought to do.” Therefore a man can merit nothing from God.

Objection 2: Further, it would seem that a man merits nothing from God, by what profits himself only, and profits God nothing. Now by acting well, a man profits himself or another man, but not God, for it is written (Job 35:7): “If thou do justly, what shalt thou give Him, or what shall He receive of thy hand.” Hence a man can merit nothing from God.

Objection 3: Further, whoever merits anything from another makes him his debtor; for a man’s wage is a debt due to him. Now God is no one’s debtor; hence it is written (Rm. 11:35): “Who hath first given to Him, and recompense shall be made to him?” Hence no one can merit anything from God.

On the contrary, It is written (Jer. 31:16): “There is a reward for thy work.” Now a reward means something bestowed by reason of merit. Hence it would seem that a man may merit from God.

I answer that, Merit and reward refer to the same, for a reward means something given anyone in return for work or toil, as a price for it. Hence, as it is an act of justice to give a just price for anything received from another, so also is it an act of justice to make a return for work or toil. Now justice is a kind of equality, as is clear from the Philosopher (Ethic. v, 3), and hence justice is simply between those that are simply equal; but where there is no absolute equality between them, neither is there absolute justice, but there may be a certain manner of justice, as when we speak of a father’s or a master’s right (Ethic. v, 6), as the Philosopher says. And hence where there is justice simply, there is the character of merit and reward simply. But where there is no simple right, but only relative, there is no character of merit simply, but only relatively, in so far as the character of justice is found there, since the child merits something from his father and the slave from his lord.

Now it is clear that between God and man there is the greatest inequality: for they are infinitely apart, and all man’s good is from God. Hence there can be no justice of absolute equality between man and God, but only of a certain proportion, inasmuch as both operate after their own manner. Now the manner and measure of human virtue is in man from God. Hence man’s merit with God only exists on the presupposition of the Divine ordination, so that man obtains from God, as a reward of his operation, what God gave him the power of operation for, even as natural things by their proper movements and operations obtain that to which they were ordained by God; differently, indeed, since the rational creature moves itself to act by its free-will, hence its action has the character of merit, which is not so in other creatures.

Reply to Objection 1: Man merits, inasmuch as he does what he ought, by his free-will; otherwise the act of justice whereby anyone discharges a debt would not be meritorious.

Reply to Objection 2: God seeks from our goods not profit, but glory, i.e. the manifestation of His goodness; even as He seeks it also in His own works. Now nothing accrues to Him, but only to ourselves, by our worship of Him. Hence we merit from God, not that by our works anything accrues to Him, but inasmuch as we work for His glory.

Reply to Objection 3: Since our action has the character of merit, only on the presupposition of the Divine ordination, it does not follow that God is made our debtor simply, but His own, inasmuch as it is right that His will should be carried out.

***

All merit is understood with the presupposition that God pre-ordains certain rewards for certain actions. Aquinas thinks that this pre-ordination doesn’t negate the idea that we yet might merit reward from God, as a reformed protestant might. (E.g. ‘If God pre-ordains it you cannot be said to have merited it.’) I can’t figure out in this context if he’s referring specifically to salvation, to merit in general, or to rewards that would presumably be given based on post-regeneration merit.

That last category — actions post-regeneration — really interests me when thinking about grace, reward, and merit. I guess one way I could pose my initial question, stripped of the ’salvation puzzle’, would be to say: “Can the regenerated saints merit anything whatsoever from God?”

Can I, as a regenerated human, have any discernible part of righteous action that is rewarded in accordance with what God has decreed?

If not, then all righteous acts — even after regeneration — must be God supernaturally imposing righteousness on me. I don’t like this option very much, and I don’t think that it aligns with scripture.

Or, alternatively, I can do righteous action but there are no decreed rewards that this merits — i.e. my life of practicing righteousness is merely the returned thanks for my salvation. I can understand this option (see the scripture passage quoted in Objection 1), but I wonder whether it is scriptural.

–

Some additional thoughts after having a conversation with a friend last night. Here are some (roughly stated, badly put, etc.) options for how one might view merit:

(1) Regenerated humans cannot perform righteous action. Everything that humans do is sinful in some sense. All perceived righteous action is some intervention by the Holy Spirit. Therefore, all merit is due to Christ in every sense. (I don’t think it’s too hard to reject this.)

(2) Christians can and do perform “good” actions in a qualified sense. Of course, there will always be the taint of sin on any given action, due to our old nature, with which we must wrestle until our death, resurrection, and glorification. However, since Christ’s sacrifice has covered all sins, even the ‘tainted’ good actions will be seen as good actions based on their incorporation into Christ’s merit. God will see the good in our actions as good, and will not see the bad due to Christ’s mediation. Humans, therefore, receive some degree of “merit” from God, decreed rewards for certain actions, although only Christ’s intervention makes even this possible.

(3) Christians, having a new nature, can perform good actions that merit rewards based on God’s decrees and pre-ordination.

I lean toward option (3), if only because (2) seems to cut out options that scripture seems to uphold. I have no doubt that I have performed very few truly good actions — if any! — in my life. Sin and my sin nature permeate my habits, thoughts, and actions. Nevertheless, to uphold option (2) is to claim that no regenerate Christian may ever perform an action that has no aspect of sin to it.

I really haven’t found Scripture that compels me toward upholding (2). Scripture is very clear that our actions don’t merit a righteous standing before God, but I would want to see some kind of support for believing that no regenerate Christian may do good things, especially since we are commanded to do so.

The Bible clearly says that no person may keep the law to his or her own righteousness, but where does it say that our actions while on this earth cannot merit pre-ordained reward, or that any and all actions of regenerate humans are tainted with sin? I think that’s the ‘missing link’ in scriptural support that I’m looking for.

Hmm.

books

Open Secrets by Richard Lischer. The basic plot sounds a little cliché: A young, energetic, and politically liberal Lutheran pastor fresh out of grad school and from the city finds himself assigned to a tiny, conservative, Midwestern farming community. Both parties have difficulty adjusting to the change, but in time they grow to understand each other and a bond of unity and love is created. Despite the quaint, Hollywood premise, Lischer downplays the ideological and superficial cultural differences enough to focus on what really presents a challenge to building relationships: pride, envy, and resent. He shows us the many ways in which God is seen powerfully in the farming village, working in and through the stiffling and awkward Germanic-Midwestern social culture.

Lischer is rather hard on his younger self throughout most of the book, emphasizing his mistakes so as to contrast these hurdles with the grace of God working in his relationships. In fact, pastoral errors drive the narrative through most of the work. He expands on the symbolism of ordinary objects a little too much for my taste and can sound awkward at times when describing what these ordinary things mean to his congregation (his account of sacramental gossip, for example, wasn’t terribly compelling). You get the feeling that he sees himself as a kind of poet and muse for the blue-collar farmer, expressing in lyrical prose the deep meaning behind a dissatisfied grunt, or dirty pair of overalls.

Lischer also relies heavily on his reader to make abstract connections that I felt he could have made more clear without sacrificing the quality of his writing. There are times when his stories shift or end without apparent connections, and I wasn’t always able to tell if I had access to the moral of the story or if I needed to meditate further on what it could be.

Poetics by Aristotle. A near-contemporary critique on Athenian poets and play-writes, Poetics struck me as being several things at once. The text is often (a) corrupted beyond the translator’s ability to work with it, (b) obscure in meaning, even for experts, and (c) referencing unknown people or works. I’m sure to read this again, but the section that most impacted me was Aristotle’s definition (and description) of metaphor. One note of interest is that Aristotle’s definitions of tragedy fit quite well with the typical contemporary romantic comedy! (E.g. Better than average people who happen to have a characteristic flaw; reversals of fortune for the better, which usually happen right before the worst result possible (losing a relationship); reversals are often inflicted by a close friend or family member and happen unintentionally; plots generally follow a unified theme — think of a typical title to these films: ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days’; ‘Sweet Home Alabama’; etc).

Claudius the God by Robert Graves. See my previous post that discusses Graves’ first book: I, Claudius. This sequel seemed to me about as beautiful, well-written, and powerful as the former, and it even did so while treating a far different subject matter. The first book is Claudius’ account of how he became an Emperor despite being an idiot, professional historian uninterested in political games, a fool and stammerer, and despite the crazed killing sprees of his predecessors. Clausius the God is Claudius’ defense of every act, edict, and murder that he comitted as an Emperor. The two novels together are a wonderful historical-fictional embodiment of Lord Acton’s famous proverb: “Power tends to corrupt; absolute power corrupts absolutely.” I highly recommend both of these novels.

Rothbard on Man

I found a curious section, almost a side-note, in Rothbard’s The Ethics of Liberty today:

“And so man, not having innate, instinctive, automatically acquired knowledge of his proper ends, or of the means by which they can be achieved, must learn them, and to learn them he must exercise his powers of observation, abstraction, thought: in short, his reason. Reason is man’s instrument of knowledge and of his very survival; the use and of his mind, the acquisition of knowledge about what is best for him and how he can achieve it, is the uniquely human method of existence and of achievement. And this is uniquely man’s nature; man, as Aristotle pointed out, is the rational animal, or to be more precise, the rational being. Through his reason, the individual man observes both the facts and ways of the external world, and the facts of his own consciousness, including his emotions: in short, he employs both extraspection and introspection.”

I wonder what Rothbard is getting at when he says that “rational being” is a more precise way to encapsulate human nature than “rational animal.” Aristotle’s definition involves, as always, what he perceives to be the proper genus and species of the thing: Man is an animal with a rational soul. Inherent in this are all of the workings of the body and mind. Strip man of ‘animal’ and we lose eating and sleeping, sense perception, pooping, communication with others, and everything else that seems to (a) keep us alive, (b) allow us to perceive and utilize the world around us, and (c) provide the foundation for abstraction and reason.

If we allow Rothbard the qualifier and consider humans as rational beings — that is, rational being qua rational being — we lose the very foundation that Rothbard upholds in the beginning of the paragraph: “And so man, not having innate, instinctive, automatically acquired knowledge of his proper ends, or of the means by which they can be achieved, must learn them, and to learn them he must exercise his powers of observation, abstraction, thought: in short, his reason.”

Perhaps it is the case that a human functioning in a rational manner is “in short” utilizing reason, but even Rothbard would agree that you can’t get to reason, abstraction, thought, etc. without first acquiring raw sense data — without first observing things in some sense.

Perhaps Rothbard meant “the rational being” to be read as “the rational being,” or in other words, “the [only] rational being,” so as to distinguish us from all of the other animals, plants, etc. But this would work only insofar as there are no other beings that have, or could potentially have, reasoning faculties. (Christians, of course, will submit at least a few more candidates for us to consider as ‘rational beings’). Aristotle restricts humanity’s genus to animals — i.e. enlivened organic bodies — because it is metaphysically possible for non-animal entities to exist exercising reason, such as the late Socrates’ rational soul. (Aquinas takes this concept and runs with it).

Or perhaps Rothbard had none of this in mind, and I’m reading into it. Still, it piqued my interest, as any author can do simply by quoting Aristotle and following it with “or, to be more precise. . .” (Aquinas, who is receiving only parenthetical treatment in this post, effectively does this in his commentaries on Aristotle, but usually does so under the guise of ‘what the Philosopher is really saying here is. . .’ rather than ‘this is almost true, but better still is. . .’)

An ironclad argument

I simply have to record this post on the Mises blog for my future use. It’s clearly tongue in cheek, but eerily on-target at the same time.

“The little government that could

Lisa Casanova

The story of the debacle at Walter Reed that the Washington Post broke has generated commentary all over the place. [after reading commentary, she now sees that] Walter Reed, and every other story like it, provides absolutely no proof that government-provided health care doesn’t work, and this can be proven by ironclad logical argument.

It goes like this:
1. Walter Reed is run by the Army.
2. The Army is run by the government.
3. The government is currently run by George Bush and his administration.
4. George Bush and his administration do not believe that government can accomplish anything, help people, or do anything right.
5. When you do not believe that government works, you underfund it and starve it of resources.
6. When you do not believe that government works, you appoint your political cronies to important jobs as patronage instead of appointing competent people who will do the job right.
7. People who believe in government give it all the resources and funding it needs.
8. People who believe in government appoint competent people who will do the job right.
9. Therefore, the cause of government failure is the failure to believe that government can succeed.
10. Besides, medical care is much better in countries where it’s run by the government, with everyone receiving great care and living much longer than Americans do.

So there you have it- proof that government works if you just elect people who believe that government works. It’s not an incentive problem, it’s not a calculation problem, it’s not a scarcity problem, it’s not problem with the lack of competition or the inherently corrupting nature of power. You just have to have…faith. There is nothing to fear about the future of government run health care as long as we all make sure it’s always run by the right people (which isn’t hard to do, right? right?) Don’t quite know what you’re supposed to do if the wrong people get elected to run it, but who’s worried about that when their health care is free? Having embraced this epiphany, I am now an intellectually honest person instead of a libertarian ideologue. I look forward to voting for competent, enthusiastic believers to run my health care system. Anyone who experiences similar enlightenment upon reading this may thank me in the comments section. Have a nice day.”

Oh my. . .