Social Philosophy

Society as a Developing System

The history of the grand style begins in each culture with the emergence of the feudal state, which, in its essence, is not yet a state in the future sense of the word, but rather an attempt to organize life in the interests of one class: from simple knighthood to the primus inter pares—the lords among peers, or the first among equals.

In the Carolingian era, the population was still characterized by a primitive division based on the visible facts of life—servants. However, the early Gothic division into peasants (serfs), or the "plough," had already become a defining feature of higher cultural classes. Here, the "robe" and "sword" as actual estates always stood opposed to the "plough" as the remainder, as a non-class mass, as the factual life devoid of profound significance. Between them lay an abyss of complete misunderstanding. In the villages, hatred began to fester, while disdain and contempt emanated from the castles. This chasm was not forged by wealth, power, or profession; it was not logically substantiated but possessed a purely metaphysical nature.

The fundamental idea of feudalism, permeating all early periods, lies in the transition from primitive, purely practical, and factual relationships between lord and subjects—regardless of whether they chose him or he subjugated them—to private legal relationships that are deeply symbolic in nature, between suzerain and vassal.

These relations were built on aristocratic morals, honor, and loyalty to one's lineage, generating the most acute conflicts between the necessity to serve the suzerain and allegiance to one’s own kin. The “state” existed within the bounds of the vassal union, expanding its territory by incorporating new vassals. By the year 1000, the foundational principle of existence had spread across Europe: “there is no land without a lord.” Herein lies the classic connection between the concepts of “power” and “spoils.”

The sense of ownership, understood as spoils, unexpectedly gave rise in the minds of cunning conquerors to the development of sophisticated accounting and bureaucracy. Office clerks were termed clerici, or scribes. The notable growth of bureaucracy was always a manifestation of care and proportionality to the development of the dynastic principle.

The grandest manifestation of the idea of feudalism, not only in Western European culture but in all cultures generally, is the struggle between monarchic authority and the papacy, the castle and the cathedral, blood and spirit—a conflict aimed at transforming the entire world into a vast feudal mega-union. However, the flourishing of the feudal system also harbored the seeds of its decline. Within the powerful primal estates, future nations were born, along with the idea of the state in its true understanding. Inter-national conflicts (Anglo-French, German-French, etc.) would occasionally intervene in the contradictions between aristocracy and clergy, between the crown and its vassals. Yet, the feudal state was still unfamiliar with the concept of the nation.

In 1215, the Magna Carta stripped actual power from the king and transferred it to the parliament of vassals, where the highest aristocracy and clergy sat in the upper house, while the lower house comprised the lesser landless nobility, which became the actual bearer of national development.

A period arrived when feudalism was already in decline, the state, which had just been born, had yet to gather strength, and the nation had not yet taken shape. Initially, the idea of the state coincided with the concept of absolute rule, a notion that traces its origins back to the animal kingdom. This cosmic fact is tied to the deepest dream of any directed life—the aspiration for hereditary power. It is a hallmark only of a strong race, for the leader's desire to assert his singular power and extend it beyond his own life through his children and grandchildren speaks of nature itself. This natural feeling also lives in the retinue of the ruler, who sees the continuation of his blood as its symbolic expression and its future.

All of this together forms the concept of dynasty, which is so deeply rooted in cosmic nature and so intricately woven into all historical facts that the state ideas of each culture are merely variations of this single principle, from the passionate “yes!” of the Faustian soul to the resolute “no!” of the ancient spirit.

The maturation of the state idea in each culture is closely linked to the emergence of cities. The center of great history shifts from fortresses and castles to residences, and the idea of the application of power—Themis—transforms into the idea of governance—Dike. Here, the nation finally achieves an internal victory over the feudal union, primarily occurring within the consciousness of the first estate. Consequently, the fact of monarchical power transforms into a symbol of sovereignty.

As feudalism wanes, the Faustian history becomes a dynastic history. The Western European ruler is a monarch by divine right within the historical world, with the populace subordinate to him because that is the divine order. The state claimed its rights on the path from the feudal union to the estate state. While previously the state existed nominally and thanks to the estates, now the estates exist only due to the state. The nation now includes all, whereas the estate included only the chosen few who held significance in a political sense. A moment arises in politics when the government governs not the estates but the nation as such, while estates as symbols merely reflect societal differences.

If the dynastic monarchy merely initiated the process of forming European nations, absolutism completed it. The era of absolutist states spanned nearly a century, exemplified by the reign of Louis XIV—a masterpiece of state organization: the state was “in form,” the aristocracy loyal, waging wars for the monarchs and organizing governance, with city and countryside in equilibrium. The true lords of the city (wealth and spirit) had yet to feel such strength as to rival the primal estates—the aristocracy and the clergy.

Cabinet politics became a high art, providing aesthetic satisfaction to those engaged in it. This was the final period of noble politics, where the old diplomacy, which spoke the language of blood rather than money, conducted its affairs as a genuine continuation of war by other means.

Thus, the era of absolutism most effectively realized the idea of the state that is inherent in the existence of every culture. Here, this idea achieved the highest political form, one that no one has managed to surpass, yet it also could not be preserved. The Reformation, in its time, awakened the substantial essence of the spirit—freedom. The city becomes the embodiment of this freedom. The urban spirit represents an understanding that has become liberated, and all subsequent spiritual, social, and national movements that strive for freedom originate from this primal fact of liberation from the earth. However, the concept of the "city" predates that of the "bourgeois." Initially, the city attracts professional groups existing outside the symbolic estate order, taking on the forms of guilds and trades. The minor aristocracy brings their "castles" to the cities, while the clergy transports their monasteries, without changing their essence.

Only with the emergence of cities, as a younger and more dynamic phenomenon, does the "third estate"—the bourgeoisie—make itself known. The bourgeoisie looks down upon the peasantry, whose existence is far removed from progress and history, as well as on the primitive estates, the "landlords and priests," regarding them as spiritually degenerated and historically unpromising. Yet, for the aristocracy and the clergy, there is no distinction between the townsman (the free) and the peasant (the serf); for them, "all this" is not an estate. This situation, characteristic of any culture, reveals that the "harmony" and equilibrium between "force," "spirit," and "money" (aristocracy) (clergy) (bourgeois) is often fleeting. While the early period is invariably suffused with impulsive peasant wars, the civil wars grounded in spirituality (ideologies) always symbolize later times.

A significant feature of any bourgeois revolution, which always occurs only in cities, is the misunderstanding of ancient symbols, which are replaced by immediate and evident interests, even if they are merely the dreams of inspired thinkers and various types of world-improvers (from Plato to Marx) to see their visions realized. If the nobility, as an estate, rarely contemplated in terms of foreign policy and world history, the bourgeoisie never does. No one considers whether the state, in its new form, can withstand other states; rather, the paramount concern for all is to secure their "rights."

The bourgeoisie embodies the state of urban "freedom," and in any critical situation, it becomes clear that its unity is negative, manifesting only in moments of resistance against some other force. Thus, the concepts of the "third estate" and "opposition" are almost synonymous, yet in instances where something of their own must be built, the interests of individual groups diverge significantly. Everyone dreams of being free from something: for the state to become the guarantor of "justice" and freedom of critique against the prevailing religion, while the money desires freedom in the name of economic success.

It is precisely in the great cities, which begin to play a decisive role, that masses of people coalesce—those whom all civilizations refer to as "outcasts," "riffraff," or "the dregs"—who are rootless and exist outside any social bonds. They do not feel their belonging to any estate, nor to any professional class; deep down, they do not even belong to the working class, although they find themselves compelled to work. Instinctively, this group draws together representatives of all estates and classes: uprooted peasants, literati, bankrupt "entrepreneurs," and above all, aristocrats who have fallen from their milieu. Their power surpasses their numbers, as they are always present, always near significant events, ready for anything, and most importantly—disrespectful of any order, even that within the revolutionary party. It is they who lend events colossal destructive force.

The bourgeoisie experiences genuine fear of this destructive power and desires above all to avoid being conflated with it, though it is difficult to draw a clear line between the bourgeoisie and the mob in the whirlwind of events. This mass penetrates the ranks of the bourgeoisie and its leadership, predominantly determining the success of endeavors and often proving capable of defending their acquired positions.

Therefore, what is crucial for this era is that here, abstract truths make their first attempts to intervene in facts, as the capitals became so large, and urban dwellers possess such an advantage as public opinion, which arises as a political force. In the world of facts, truths are merely a means by which minds can be mastered, consciousness exalted, and certain actions provoked. The historical significance of truths does not depend on their depth, correctness, or logicality, but solely on their effectiveness, that is, how impactful they are. It matters little whether they are correctly understood or understood at all. All this is now encapsulated in the term "slogan." Indeed, slogans that reach the minds and hearts of people become facts, while all others—philosophical or socio-ethical systems—are of little importance to history.

The bourgeoisie arises only from the fundamental conflict between the city and the countryside, which compels the "noble lineages and guilds" to feel their unity in the face of the nobility of the feudal state, as well as in the face of the church, which is feudal by its nature. The notion of the third estate (tiers) is defined solely by this contradiction, rather than by its internal content. This estate lacks its own morality and symbolism. The realm of urban reason encompasses all political literature of the late period, where attempts are made to establish a new classification of urban estates, which at first exists only as theory but ultimately, through the omnipotence of rationalism, gains mastery over the masses and becomes practice—a bloody practice of revolution.

The nobility and clergy are persistently depicted in this literature as privileged estates, thus underscoring that their rights have long been outdated and lost their meaning in the face of the eternal rights of reason and nature. Economy and science, as spiritual supports, bolster the third estate, the center of which now becomes the capital—the most significant concept of late times.

The alliance of artisans, officials, and workers perceives itself as a party; all are parts of the third estate. While contradictions exist here as well, they recede into the background as soon as the struggle for freedom begins, that is, for the independence of the city from the land. Henceforth, economic freedom signifies the freedom to earn money, science is free to critique, and here, printed (press) and oral words (democracy) hold crucial importance, with money eager to capitalize on any opportunity (the age of plutocracy). Thus, victory is celebrated not by ideas, but by capital. Yet, this is merely the long-standing contradiction between facts and truths, only under the conditions of urban life. The city presents to the hereditary nobility new concepts of monetary (business) and "spiritual" elites.

The former is usually unpretentious (money prefers silence), yet it is a compelling fact. The latter, however, is merely truth and nothing more. While aristocratism is always associated with race, tradition, good manners, and a natural desire to maintain a constant connection to the ground through land acquisition.

In the later period of any culture, the history of social classes reaches its conclusion. The yearning for a life of freedom—one devoid of roots—triumphs over the grand cultural symbols that urban populations no longer comprehend or tolerate. Humanity now finds itself entirely under the dominion of the city. The concept of eternal values, once intrinsically linked to the land, disappears from monetary exchange, and with it, the last vestiges of respect for ancient ideals fade under the scrutiny of scientific critique. The victory over these symbols leads to a partial emancipation of the peasantry: serfdom is abolished, yet the peasant becomes ensnared by money, which has transformed land into a commodity.

Thus, the peasantry, in every circumstance and at all times, serves as the root system of the great growth of culture, embodying its proto-symbol or soul that permeates the entire tree of culture—its roots and sap, trunk and branches, canopy and fruits.

The first estate—
The second estate—
The third estate—

The fruits of civilization are consumed by the mass man (das man) or the aristocracy (the trunk), the clergy (the branches), and the tiers (the canopy).

The plebs are the legislatively recognized unity of the tiers, now represented by tribunes endowed with their own immunity. However, the plebs, as the third estate—a remnant—can only be assessed negatively: it comprises all those who do not belong to the hereditary aristocracy and do not hold the highest positions within the spiritual hierarchy. The picture is invariably variegated, as only protest binds the third estate together. It includes merchants, artisans, pharmacists, hired workers, scribes, and others. Notably, it exists outside of politics.

In a social context, the plebs, unlike the aristocracy and clergy, does not exist as a cohesive entity and quickly fragments into professional groups with their specific interests. The plebs represent a party striving for freedom in an urban understanding. Just as the plebs of the city transformed into the “Roman people” (Populus Romanus), the tiers of 1789 in France declared themselves a nation.

Thus, the aristocracy was a class in the fullest sense of the term, a representative of history and a race of the highest caliber. In contrast, the clergy symbolized another facet of life, constantly proclaiming “no” where the aristocracy said “yes.”

The “third estate” lacked internal unity and did not constitute a true estate in the full sense. It was unified solely by protest against the primordial estates and the symbolic forms of life in general. Nevertheless, it holds its own significance, juxtaposing urban life against rural life, presenting itself as an estate of freedom in opposition to dependence.

The “third estate” always has its boundaries and belongs to culture, uniting all people under the name of the people, populus, demos, comprising elements such as aristocrats and money, independent artisans, and priests, as well as hired workers. The concept of the “third estate” weaves together all of civilization, which will eventually destroy it, replacing it with the notion of the “fourth estate”—the masses, who fundamentally reject culture along with its organic forms. This entity is utterly formless, a mass that, in its great animosity, relentlessly pursues any form, all distinctions of rank, any ownership, and organized knowledge. The mass consists of the new nomads of the world’s capitals; to them, a person is something amorphous, entirely severed from their roots. The mass acknowledges neither its past nor possesses a future.

Thus, the fourth estate represents an expression of history that is already transitioning into a pre-historical existence. The mass embodies the end, a radical nothingness.