Andrew Sayer's Philosophical Anthropology

Andrew Sayer has been one of the most thorough proponents of these criticisms (as explained in the second edition of this work - Chapter 12). However, in his subsequent work, Sayer has provided a defence of the project of critical social science: a defence which incorporates the reservations he previously voiced.

So, for Sayer, a defensible practice of critical social science would be one which made explicit its view of human well-being and the necessary conditions for it to be achieved. This account of human well-being would have to be sufficiently universalistic to allow for a huge variety of socio-cultural possibilities. At the same time, it would have to be substantive enough to provide grounds for making judgements about how near or far those possible ways of life come to nurturing or obstructing human flourishing. A common term for such a theoretical exercise is ‘philosophical anthropology, and Andrew Sayer offers his own version of this in chapter 4 of his important book, Why things Matter to People (Sayer 2011).

I broadly agree with Sayer's account of human nature and well-being, though, at a later stage of the argument, I will suggest that something that is relegated to the margins in his account should be seen as fundamental to its key features. But a conceptual clarification might be useful at the outset. This has to do with the concept of ‘nature'. Sayer cites the important work of Kate Soper, who distinguishes two concepts of nature - as everything that exists, or, by contrast, everything other than the human, social or cultural (Soper 1995). Raymond Williams has rightly claimed that the word ‘nature' is one of the most complex in the English language (Williams 1976: 219). Nature in Soper's first sense can also be used as a counter to the ‘supernatural', but in secular discourse it also has many connotations, some drawn from scientific popularization, others from folk traditions and common-sense experience. The second sense - nature as whatever is not human society or culture - is also full of complexity. For some commentators, any green space counts as ‘nature', while for others ‘nature' is equivalent to ‘countryside', and for still others, since human influence extends across the whole planet, including the depths of the oceans ‘pristine' nature no longer exists at all (Benton 2014).

When we ask about ‘the nature of' any object, substance or being there are four sorts of questions that might be involved. First, we might be interested in those characteristics that distinguish it from others closely related to it - as, for example, the features mentioned in wildlife identification guides: a certain shape of the tail or colour pattern on a wing. Second, we might be concerned with features shared across a range of kinds or types. So, being feathered as a feature of birds, or being warm-blooded as a feature of mammals, might help in understanding how the different types or kinds within the broader range are related to each other, commonalities of behaviour and so on. Third, we might mean by ‘the nature of' something the properties, or features, which have a special significance - which, for example, make it the kind of being it is. In the case of humans, some would (questionably!) give ‘rational' or ‘wise' as an answer, or follow Aristotle, and give ‘political' as the qualifier of ‘animal’. Although this sort of answer to the ‘nature of' question may also be used in the first sense I mentioned above (e.g. to distinguish humans from other animals), it goes further. Humans also have less body hair, have differentiated hands and feet, and so on, but the discriminators ‘rational' and ‘political' are not mere taxonomic indicators - they are supposed to direct us to human attributes of greater weight.

The fourth sort of question concerning the ‘nature of' something, seeks an explanation. This is ‘the nature of' something as specification of its composition or internal structure in virtue of which it manifests the range of powers and liabilities that are characteristic of it. For living beings, their nature in this sense could be given in terms of anatomical and physiological structures and processes, but increasingly the tendency would be to go deeper, to the level of DNA and the molecular processes in the genome.

So, returning to Andrew Sayer's outline of a ‘philosophical anthropology', I will try to give a brief summary in eight main points:

1. The project of characterizing human nature is often objected to as necessarily insensitive to difference, or as illicitly presenting a particular (often gendered or racialized) paradigm of human development as representing the species as a whole.

Like any class of objects, human nature always encompasses variation, as well as commonalities. Our shapes, sizes and susceptibilities and powers differ; some are born with disabilities or are exceptionally endowed in some way... It doesn't make sense to describe any of these variants as ‘unnatural' or less natural that others, for they all occur in nature; the category ‘unnatural’ is empty.

(Sayer 2011: 108)

2. The second element in his account of human nature is recognition of our standing as animals. We should take seriously the fact that we are animals, he says, and accept that what we have in common with (other) animals is no less a part of our nature than which separates us (this corresponds to the second sense of ‘nature of' I distinguished above). In this context, Sayer insists that ‘bodily mechanisms, needs and compulsions that are more or less independent of conscious influence' should not be dismissed as bad, or needing to be repressed. The implication is that any defensible account of human nature should include our bodily nature and its consequences, as a recognition of what we share with other animals. However, as I'll argue later, what we share with other animals may be much more than our embodiment, and the needs and compulsions associated with it.

3. Sayer's treatment of his third aspect of human nature begins with a distinctive feature of human development. This is that we come into the world as ‘incomplete' beings, with few capacities and a limited range of drives. As immature and vulnerable beings we depend on the attachments of care-givers not just for survival, but for the development of our potential as human beings. Sayer insists that this may take a huge range of different forms - some not even imaginable - and the direction of development that is taken will depend on the sort of care given.

4. Following closely on from our dependency as immature beings, is a concept of humans as both needy and desiring beings, as beings capable of both suffering and flourishing. Whilst the condition of society may obstruct the satisfaction of desire, or meeting of need, Sayer argues that every life has within it a recognition of unmet need as well as intimations of what fulfilment might be. In this context, he also emphasizes the importance of the development of active powers, the acquisition of skills and creative engagement in the world, along with diverse sensory experiences. This takes Sayer close to the account given in the early writings of Marx of humans as ‘active natural beings' (Marx and Engels 1975: 336).

5. In an acknowledgement of his debt to Aristotle, Sayer includes ‘rationality', or as he prefers to say ‘reasoning', as a human attribute. The model he provides is far from the notion of ‘rational self-interest' which permeates so much of our contemporary social and economic thought. For him, the ability to reason is a learned capability, associated with the acquisition of language, or ‘discourse'. This is not merely a means of referring to or describing things, but a set of skills enabling us to cooperate with one another, and, through that, allowing us to learn how to behave towards one another, acquire an understanding of social norms and become participants in social life. But for Sayer this is not a merely passive process of acculturation, as people are capable of developing critical capacities, and becoming reflective about the norms they encounter. This, in turn, enables people to develop a sense of themselves as leading a life to which they can attach meaning. This account of what it is to be a ‘reasoning’ being is intimately connected with the development of ‘fellow feeling’ - the ability to recognize and identify with the inner life of others.

6. The centrality of caring relationships to human development implies the necessity of the formation of attachments and commitments. A caring relationship is not one that can be dropped and picked up at a whim, but must endure through time if, for example, the emotional and psychological development of a child is to be nurtured. Beyond this, however, humans as social beings form attachments and commitments to a great range of objects - other people, places, values, professional ethics, political parties, social movements, sporting associations, musical genres and cultural practices of many kinds. These commitments become fused with our sense of self-identity to the extent that we feel hurt or threatened when things go badly for the object of our commitment, and proud or elated when things go well. This aspect of our social being calls into question commonly held liberal notions of freedom and autonomy. Freedom cannot mean freedom to do whatever we choose without reference to the needs of others, or freedom to enter into or drop just any relationship we choose. The example of the long-term commitment involved in caring for a child illustrates this well, but in relation to other commitments we enter into, autonomy can be seen as continuing to adhere to a commitment, even though that will necessarily mean accepting limits to freedom of choice.

7. This way of understanding personal identity and autonomy is the basis for Sayer’s critique of much moral philosophy (and lay moral thinking) which focuses on the moral status of particular acts of individuals. Our participation in social practices and the identity-forming character of our long-run commitments lead to the embodiment of certain habitual ways of responding to given situations. These are, for most of the time, spontaneous and un-thought regularities of conduct. Working in a hierarchical organization, for example, can encourage dispositions such as deference, defensiveness, competitiveness, deviousness or haughty indifference to the feelings of ‘inferiors, depending on where we are in the hierarchy and on how much leeway the texture of the organization allows. This account of the social shaping of identity is not determinist, in the sense that people are represented as just passive puppets of the society they inhabit, but, rather, it leaves open the ability of individuals to become conscious of their activities and reassess the outcomes of their socialization. Indeed, this is more than just a possibility, as in complex modern societies we unavoidably participate in a great variety of practices, often with cross-cutting norms and expectations. The Italian Marxist Antonio Gramsci referred to the sort of consciousness produced through living a life through such complex social situations and practices as ‘common sense' (Gramsci 1971). This will usually be made up of diverse and often contradictory moral sentiments, forms of understanding and practical dispositions, often shared with others. At times of personal crisis - such as bereavement, losing one's job or the breakdown of a relationship - or in times of wider social or political crisis, we may be provoked into consciously reflecting on the meanings and purposes of life and subjecting our ‘common sense' to re-evaluation. Taken together, these considerations about the social shaping of identities and moral values point away from exclusive moral concern with individual acts. Instead, they suggest the importance of subjecting the wider complex of social structures and practices through which moral dispositions are formed to critical evaluation. This is, of course, what is intended by a critical social science.

8. Concerned to avoid a naively benign view of human nature, Sayer turns to consideration of evil. For him the presence of evil - even if only evil thoughts - is universal. There are several strategies through which a (relatively) benign view of human nature can be sustained despite this. Our social experience may be limited in ways that allow us simply to be unaware of suffering for which we are to some extent responsible. A common example is the neat packaging of cuts of ‘meat' through which we are protected from full recognition of the killing of the animal from which it came. In his writings on the condition of the working-class districts in Manchester, Engels noted how the disposition of residential districts, shops and thoroughfares concealed the true degradation of the lives of working-class people. The lines of shops bordering the main thoroughfares ‘suffice to conceal from the eyes of the wealthy men and women of strong stomachs and weak nerves the misery and grime which form the complement of their wealth' (Engels 1845, 1969: 80).

Another account of evil is to see it as a refusal to recognize the humanity of the subject of abuse: to represent a victim as less than human, or as lacking in sensibility. Again, violent or criminal behaviour can be understood as the outcome of early experience of abuse or neglect, but Sayer also recognizes the existence of a common and conscious desire to cause suffering to others. This seems to come close to a recognition of what some proponents of depth psychology refer to as ‘primary aggression’. So, for Sayer, this has to be accepted into our view of human nature - and it follows that any proposed alternative mode of social existence would have to take account of it.