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In Political Species, Karsten Ronit expertly argues that evolutionary biology can provide important sources of inspiration for analyzing the proliferation of private actors/organizations in domestic and global politics. Focusing on the evolution of a diversity of such private actors/organizations in politics, Ronit emphasizes that individuals are affected by and contribute to societal, cultural, and political evolution through a range of formal organizations and that societies, cultures, and politics influence and build upon values and norms transmitted by individuals via these formal organizations. By being mindful of these contextual factors and keeping in mind the important research done in the micro-and macro-perspectives, we can gain a better understanding of the diversity of private actors/organizations and how they evolve and adapt. Evolutionary biology teaches us that over time, different varieties emerge, specialize, and adapt to the ever-changing conditions in complex environments before accumulating into new species. Much change characterizes these processes of political evolution because actors constantly emerge and add to the existing population of private actors that, in one way or another, are engaged in politics.
Karsten Ronit is Associate Professor in the Department of Political Science at the University of Copenhagen, Denmark. He has broad competence in the study of organized interests with special expertise in business and employer associations, civil society organizations, and other intermediary institutions. He takes an interest in the comparative aspects of politics and business and examines how business and civil society operate in different national contexts. He is also engaged in projects examining the behavior of business and civil society organizations at the international level. He has published in a number of international journals, contributed to many books, and more recently published the monographs Global Business Associations (Routledge, 2018) and The Governance of Global Industry Associations: The Role of Micro-Politics (Edward Elgar, 2022).
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Political Species
The Evolution and Diversity of Private Organizations in Politics
Karsten Ronit
For information about the series: www.routledge.com/Routledge-Advances-in-InternationalRelations-and-Global-Politics/book-series/IRGP
Political Species
The Evolution and Diversity of Private Organizations in Politics
Karsten Ronit
First published 2024 by Routledge
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ISBN: 978-1-032-08017-8 (hbk)
ISBN: 978-1-032-08019-2 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-003-21254-6 (ebk)
DOI: 10.4324/9781003212546
Typeset in Times New Roman by Apex CoVantage, LLC
List of illustrations vii
Preface viii
List of abbreviations x
1 Introduction—setting the scene 1
Micro, macro, and meso approaches 2
Species in biology 7
The challenges of translation 10
The diversity of political species 12
Overview of chapters 15
2 Evolution—analyzing gradual changes 20
Biological perspectives 21
Reflections and translations 26 Applications 31
Conclusion 38
3 Ecology—accounting for wholes 40
Biological perspectives 41 Reflections and translations 46 Applications 51
Conclusion 58
4 Biogeography—studying large spaces 61
Biological perspectives 62
Reflections and translations 68 Applications 73
Conclusion 79
Illustrations
Figures
1.1 Species, time, and space
2.1 The horseshoe crab—unusual stability over evolutionary time 23
2.2 Time and level in the evolution of political species 30
3.1 Water on a leaf—a fundamental abiotic factor in the life of species 45
3.2 Political species in an ecological perspective 50
4.1 Biogeographic regions on a single continent 63
4.2 Biogeography: translations to geographic spaces and political species 72
5.1 Different bird species—different niches 84
6.1 One form of competition—direct competition among common red deer
7.1 Mimicry: the case of Pachythelia Villosella
7.2 Adaptation: general and specific adaptation forms
8.1 Darwin’s tree of life—the first version
8.2 A taxonomic sketch of private organizations as political species
Tables
5.1 Niche: small spaces and political species 92
6.1 Competition—and cooperation: interactions and political species 113
Preface
This book has both a long and a short history. First to the long history. For many years, I have held a strong interest in the role of private organizations in political life. I have noticed repeatedly, however, that research tends to be very compartmentalized. There are specialized communities for the different categories of organizations in this book labeled political species, and few attempts have been made to bring them together in an integrated analysis to investigate their similarities and differences. Likewise, the focus on contemporary actors and activities is dominant in research. Private organizations, however, have interesting roots, showing that they have evolved over time and that they are evolutionarily connected. Without this perspective, it is very difficult to reach a profound understanding of private organizations.
Research on private organizations is clearly in need of inspiration to recognize their diversity and evolution. A promising source of inspiration is available in biology, but we must be careful when transferring such ideas. Many years ago, I noticed the scholarly interest in such endeavors, but it was not until around 15 years ago that I began to take a closer look at this literature. On closer inspection, however, this literature has several deficiencies, and one of the major shortcomings is that scholars today do not really consult the original biological tradition and use only a few of the many available concepts to study the evolution and diversity of private organizations as political species. To use this rich pool of knowledge, I realized that it was necessary to access the biological tradition, especially evolutionary biology, and accordingly, I have spent many years on this project, seeking relevant concepts and contemplating their transfer to the realm of private organizations in politics.
This was the long history. Now to the short history. After a contract was signed with the publisher in spring 2021, concrete work on this book began in late 2021, right after I had submitted another book manuscript (The Governance of Global Industry Associations: The Role of Micro-Politics) to Edward Elgar, and I had the first draft ready around one year later. This version has since been subject to several revisions, both concerning the overall organization of the book and the many details of the arguments in the individual chapters. Over the years, I have
benefited from conversations with numerous colleagues and co-workers, especially in the social and political sciences, but also from exchanges with many biologists and naturalists, who have helped me form opinions about the role of private organizations in politics and how “strange” ideas from biology can be applied.
AFEI Australian Federation of Employers and Industries
AI Amnesty International
AIIA Australian Institute of International Affairs
AMA Australian Medical Association
ATA Atlantic Treaty Association
BIAC Business at OECD/Business and Industry Advisory Committee to the OECD
CFDT Confédération Française Démocratique du Travail (French Democratic Confederation of Labour)
CFR Council of Foreign Relations
CFTC Confédération Française des Travailleurs Chrétiens (French Confederation of Christian Workers)
CGT Confédération Générale du Travail (General Confederation of Labour)
CI Consumers International
CIIA Canadian Institute of International Affairs
CIOMS Council for International Organizations of Medical Sciences
ECSC European Coal and Steel Community
EEC European Economic Community
EU European Union
FO Confédération Générale du Travail—Force Ouvrière (General Confederation of Labor)
GSC Global Solar Council
ICC International Chamber of Commerce
ICIJ International Consortium of Investigative Journalists
ICRC The International Committee of the Red Cross
IDU International Democrat Union
INGO International Non-Governmental Organization
IOE International Organization of Employers
IUCN International Union for Conservation of Nature
Abbreviations
Keidanren Japan Business Federation
NATO North Atlantic Treaty Organization
OECD Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development
OSF Open Society Foundations
PJ Partido Justicialista Nacional de la República Argentina.
RCOA Refugee Council of Australia
RS Refugee Support
SBS Special Broadcasting Service
SI Socialist International
SUD Solidaires Unitaires Démocratiques
UK United Kingdom
UN United Nations
UNHCR United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees
US United States
VR/AR Virtual Reality and Augmented Reality Association
WEF World Economic Forum
WHO World Health Organization
WKO Die Wirtschaftskammer Österreich (Austrian Economic Chambers)
WMA World Medical Association
1 Introduction—setting the scene
To advance the study of private organizations in politics, it would seem most obvious to consult the pertinent literature within the social and political sciences, which offers interesting sources of guidance. However, many important and unexploited insights can actually be gleaned from outside these scholarly traditions, and such fresh insights can invigorate research. This book argues that the discipline of biology, especially evolutionary biology, including fields such as evolutionary ecology, offers fertile ground for inspiration. In many ways, this tradition can assist us in analyzing the evolution and diversity of private actors in politics.
Private organizations such as political parties, associations, movements, professional societies, political clubs, think tanks, and foundations are examples of organizations that tend to be structured in a collective framework or otherwise rely on various kinds of coordination among members, supporters, and donors, and they can all play important roles in the organization and representation of various group interests in society. Also other entities, such as public affairs agencies and law, accounting, and consulting firms, that either provide various services to these organizations or play an independent role in politics without relying on collective decision-making per se, must be included, and to that end, a number of biological concepts, are helpful.
In the scholarly community, these different actors are not equally attended to and recognized, and it can be difficult to understand the multiple functions they serve. They are further given many names, with the conceptual language often varying significantly across disciplines, across countries, and across historical time. This fragmentation suggests that it can be theoretically complicated and empirically challenging to accommodate such actors in an integrated analysis, but this is needed if we want to reach a better understanding of this diverse category, here treated under the generic term “private organizations.” Essentially, these actors are all rooted in the organization of markets and of civil societies, and many of them are intimately connected, while others are only distantly related.
DOI: 10.4324/9781003212546-1
Evolutionary biology, which emphasizes the common origin of species, their diverse paths, and their complex relations, offers a promising perspective for analyzing such private actors. Evolutionary biology teaches us that over time, varieties of species emerge, specialize, and adapt to the ever-changing conditions in their environment, leading, in some cases, to new full species. Much change also characterizes the processes of political evolution. Actors emerge or perish, and in this process, they alter the existing community population of private organizations that in one way or another are engaged in politics. Thus, species in nature have many parallels with the various private organizations in domestic and global politics.
Different evolutionary ideas from biology have already been applied in the social and political sciences, and in the next section of this chapter, we discuss some of these major applications and explain how the approach taken in this book differs from existing perspectives. We further clarify what the general species concept implies in a biological context and discuss how it can be translated to our particular purpose, which is by no means an easy exercise, and a number of caveats are consequently needed to avoid absurdities. We then turn toward the broad and diverse body of private organizations that are the foci of this study, and we seek to characterize them and define their role, but this general sketch will be followed up in individual chapters with more concrete examples related to each of the different concepts. Admittedly, some contributions in the social and political sciences have tried to grapple with these actors by seeking inspiration from biology, but only some actors have been addressed, and only certain ideas from biology have been picked up. Indeed, it is clear that there is a huge and unexploited potential for evolutionary thinking. The chapter finishes with an overview of the book, where the key concepts forming the basis of each of the chapters will be presented.
Micro, macro, and meso approaches
Before turning to approaches developed at different levels of investigation, it is important to recognize a basic line of conflict. Indeed, some versions and interpretations of evolutionary theory have been highly controversial and have often been associated with so-called social Darwinism. In these debates, some scholars have historically used the authority of Charles Darwin to highlight the “survival of the fittest” and legitimize certain social orders, or at least they have been seen by critics as mechanically using certain natural laws to explain human societies and thus replacing scientific inquiry with political dogma. Many problems have definitely complicated these debates and inquiries. Concepts such as “survival,” “selection,” and “fitness” can have different meanings, and there are many aspects related to the conditions of species in nature (Darwin 1859; Schmalhausen 1946; Mayr 1982: 477–534; Kauffman 1993; Haffer 2006)1 not to mention the difficulties of using these notions to understand human societies. These huge debates have important historical roots, with important advances in
the late nineteenth century (Mayr 1982: 112–132; Gould 2002: 93–169; Bowler 2003), but although these issues are today addressed in more sophisticated ways, they nevertheless have conflict potential.
A side effect of this debate is no doubt some hesitance on the side of social and political scientists to look for inspiration in biology, and perhaps even a fear of falling into an ideological trap. However, the book has been closed too early. Rejections are often too unspecific and premature and do not consider the many nuanced discussions and prospective applications. There is a risk that general criticism may block further dialogue around big issues as well as specific concepts, impeding a constructive evaluation of potentials and pitfalls.
In spite of various reservations, we do in fact find a number of interesting contributions in the social and political sciences, and to put this study into context, it is necessary to relate it to existing traditions that wrestle with evolutionary problems and have tried to translate this thinking. Scholars familiar with or actively involved in some of these traditions will perhaps expect that the present analysis will, or even should, enroll in the further development of these traditions. This is not the ambition, however. As we shall see, the major existing approaches tend to raise other kinds of questions and to nest analyses at other levels of inquiry than intended here.
These approaches are visible and have evolved in two related ways: Biologists have extended the scope of their research to embrace problems outside nature, and social and political scientists have drawn on ideas beyond their established fields; but these groups of scholars are not equally active, and contributions have primarily come from the latter group of researchers.2 To explain this in further detail, we may distinguish between micro, macro, and meso approaches, and this clarification of analytical levels of investigation helps us explain what this book is about and what it is not about.
First, some studies apply elements of evolutionary theory to the social and political world and are focused on various micro phenomena. In these cases, the analytical unit is the behavior of the human species, and in many ways, it is quite straightforward to transfer ideas from biology, where the human species is also a key unit of analysis. Because the concept of species embraces all living organisms, a specific effort, however, must be made to define human behavior in particular and relate it to politics. This micro-oriented literature is difficult to categorize, but we find some major patterns in the emphasis on either the genetic dimension or the social dimension.
Some contributions posit that genetic properties are key to understanding behavior. They may drive selfish or altruistic behavior with the effect that such innate traits of species influence social evolution and in a wider perspective have implications for politics. This tradition is often labeled “sociobiology” (Wilson 1975; Hatemi and McDermott 2011) and is especially related to genetics and to varying degrees also to neurology as biological subdisciplines (Alford, Funk, and Hibbing 2005), but contributions may use different terminology to characterize
human behavior. This research is primarily interested in the structuring of different forms of behavior, and although evolution is an overall theme, certain issues, such as the differentiation and emergence of new species, are not considered. In a number of cases, cooperation has developed between biologists and political scientists, and the study of genetic and social aspects can be combined (Axelrod and Hamilton 1981). Emphasis may be shifted toward behavior under the impact of environmental factors.
Other studies, therefore, tend to analyze the evolution of cooperation as a social and interactive process, and, although the role of genetics is not forgotten, greater weight is attributed to environmental factors in the shaping of “social species” (Lewontin, Rose, and Kamin 1984). In these perspectives, other-regarding behavior is not the result of pure self-interest but driven by the essential social capacities of humans. Through reiterated games (Axelrod 1984), people learn and adapt, but through history, humans have also been endowed with the capacity to engage in reciprocal cooperation (Bowles and Gintis 2011). The understanding of human behavior is not necessarily framed in terms of games, and we also find contributions to human behavior that are more actively linked to the evolution of culture (Waring and Wood 2021), a point we will return to shortly. Indeed, scholars concerned with genetic aspects also seek to embrace the proliferation of beliefs, habits, and norms, which mirror or correct human behavior and are important in the evolution of cultures (Dawkins 2006).
Studies following a micro approach highlight the genetic and social dimensions of the human species but draw on experiences beyond biology. They further build on input from economics and psychology, where there is an equal emphasis on individual behavior and also on various cross-overs between economics, psychology, political science, and sociology, without each of these necessarily being informed by evolutionary biology and its various concepts. These disciplines can all be helpful in developing the micro approaches briefly sketched here, but they also offer inspiration for and can to varying degrees link up with macro approaches.
Second, some analyses are concerned with a range of macro phenomena and apply evolutionary concepts from biology to such studies or use evolutionary thinking in a broader sense. This suggests that the unit of analysis also takes the form of states, nations, societies, cultures, empires, and civilizations, which all manifest highly aggregated human behavior and therefore deserve corresponding analytical strategies (Mesoudi 2011; Lindenfors, Jansson, and Sandberg 2011; Morris 2013; Somit and Peterson 2003).
To varying degrees, individual human behavior and the various systems in which it is embedded are considered in such works (Boyd and Richerson 1985; Gintis, Van Schaik, and Boehm 2015) and testify to the overlap between micro and macro approaches. The larger cultural, societal, and political contexts can be seen as a driving force and can be studied in their own right to understand both historical and contemporary contexts.
Eventually, the performance of these different macro entities will, somewhat akin to species in evolution,3 lead to their survival or extinction—and adaptation of some kind (Vanberg and Kerber 1994). History is rich with examples, and there are recurring questions as to whether some systems are more advanced than others and whether they are inclined to follow specific historical trajectories.
We often have to do with changes on a grand scale, such as economic, social, or demographic transformations (Turchin 2018), and the literature not only reports change but also seeks to formulate predictions. Studies guided by different macro perspectives are especially found in disciplines for branches of history, economics, anthropology, and political science, and this kind of work tends to have an interdisciplinary character and grapples with broader issues of humankind.
In a similar vein, research on the evolution of institutions examines how societies, or certain policy fields, issues, or bodies, are regulated through complex rules and norms (Thelen 1999), typically devised by various public authorities or adopted through negotiated compromise involving different actors in society. These themes may sound familiar and belong to the many standard topics in the social and political sciences, and institutions may be scrutinized using ideas from evolutionary thinking (Currie, Campenni, Flitton et al. 2021), but there is considerable variation as to whether concepts from biology are actively employed to examine institutional developments. In the tradition of “historical institutionalism,” studies have, with a few exceptions (Lewis and Steinmo 2010; Streeck 2018), not explicitly drawn on evolutionary theory as formulated in biology, although this is an obvious source of knowledge. In fact, the feature of evolutionary perspectives does not necessarily imply an explicit translation and application of biological concepts. Interesting contributions have, however, laid out a framework for “evolutionary institutionalism” (Lempp and Patzelt 2007: 375–414; Fürstenberg 2016), which is related to but different from “historical institutionalism,” and thus there is a good potential for studying institutions from an evolutionary perspective.
So far, we have dealt with the micro and macro approaches and briefly shown how ideas in evolutionary biology are transferred to study particular analytical levels. To a different extent, this thinking has been applied to branches of economics, psychology, anthropology, sociology, archaeology, history, and political science. In addition to these micro and macro levels of investigation, we suggest a further approach that, in some ways, is related to these ambitions and traditions but also has an independent status.
Third, this study centers on a different level of phenomena and thus applies a meso approach. By focusing on the many and diverse private organizations in political life, this book analyzes the emergence, proliferation, and differentiation of private political actors that are based on various kinds of collective or otherwise coordinated forms of action. In other words, the analysis is anchored above the micro level of humans but below the macro level of political systems, societies, cultures, and civilizations.
By adopting such an intermediate approach, the current study focuses on the evolution of a diversity of private organizations whose pathways, properties, and relations are not fully understood. Only a relatively small branch of research has in some way taken inspiration from evolutionary biology to analyze various kinds of organizations. In organization and management theory, attempts have been made to advance research in many directions and examine different aspects of organizational activity, including classifying organizations (McKelvey 1982), analyzing populations (Hannan and Freeman 1977), mapping resources (Pfeffer and Salancik 1978), investigating changes (Baum and Amburgey 2017), and understanding environments (Aldrich and Ruef 2006). Such contributions have drawn attention in certain areas of the social and political sciences and have also been applied to study various interest groups (Gray and Lowery 1996b; Lowery, Halpin, and Gray 2015). In relevant places, parts of this research will be considered in the individual chapters.
Although these studies and theories bring many interesting insights, they suffer from certain weaknesses in the context of this particular project. First, the overwhelming majority of this research is not targeted at private organizations in politics but grapples theoretically with organizations in a very wide sense. Second, this tradition is empirically strong in the analyses of firms active in markets, but problems related to these specific actors also tend to define general theories. Third, in the case where the role of private organizations in politics is actually reviewed, only some groups of organizations and activities receive attention. Fourth, studies of these groups of private organizations tend to be occupied with this particular group, while relations with other kinds of organizations are weakly marked. Fifth, organization theory with an original inspiration in evolutionary biology seems to have developed its own traditions and to a modest degree accesses contributions from evolutionary biology. Sixth, only selected concepts in evolutionary biology are considered and applied, but a host of concepts are actually available to describe and analyze private organizations.
Organization and management theories are seemingly more palatable for social and political scientists in their search for approaches to organizational evolution, but such theories inadequately reflect and translate the biological tradition. Given these limitations, a new and systematic effort is needed to take advantage of a wider set of ideas from evolutionary biology in the study of private organizations. Accordingly, we need to consult this literature directly, extract major ideas, and translate them to our concrete purpose.
The private entities to which we refer build on very different kinds of action. Some organizations rely on advanced forms of cooperation, an enduring feature of formal organizations with complex decision-making structures and diverse relations to actors in their environment, while others act as corporations specialized in politics but also with solid organizations behind them. Multiple species that in one way or another are involved in political life will therefore be embraced, but the role of firms poses a specific challenge and should be
briefly addressed. It can be argued that in different market economies, firms make independent decisions and therefore represent a kind of authority that also has political implications, and, in fact, some firms dispose of considerable economic resources (Lindblom 1977; Fuchs 2007; Mikler 2018). These are valid arguments. However, the majority of firms are not established with a clear and unequivocal ambition to influence policies and the political order. Hence, we shall include corporations that have such purposes, which, of course, can be expressed in multiple ways. Making such distinctions is complicated because boundaries are not distinct but fluid and fluctuating.
Indeed, changes play an important role, and like many other organizations, private organizations have become rather solid entities. Indeed, “just as the forests and fields of the physical environment are being replaced be streets and skyscrapers, the primordial institutions around which societies have developed are being replaced by purposively constructed social organizations” (Coleman 1990: xv). Although the growth and renewal of this diversity of formal organizations is significant, the activity of such organizations goes far back in time, and in many respects, it is possible to trace the roots of current organizations back to earlier kinds of organizations.
These different intermediary actors are in multiple ways related to the macro level above and the micro level below. This implies that individuals are both affected by and contribute to economic, social, and political evolution through a range of formal organizations, and, in turn, that societies, cultures, and politics both influence and build upon values and norms transmitted via these formal organizations. However, the evolution of private organizations raises a number of specific questions that deserve independent scrutiny, and this is the key task of this study. Therefore, this book complements rather than competes with the various macro and micro approaches.
Evolution is accomplished at different levels, and the ambition is neither to endorse nor to reject research guided by these other approaches but to include and qualify an additional layer. With this focus, the book contributes to a broader analysis of the value of biological concepts for the social and political sciences. Admittedly, research nested at the meso level, and actively applying evolutionary perspectives from biology, is much weaker developed than studies focused on the other levels; hence, a special effort is required to advance this approach. Before we can concentrate on private organizations, however, the first step is to briefly address the species concept in biology and discuss how it can be translated to private actors as political species, a research area beyond biology.
Species in biology
While the species concept may sound rather alien to the social and political sciences, the concept is central to biology. There is a rich discussion on its proper definition and application to nature, and this scholarly debate goes centuries
back (Haffer 2006). However, much of the discussion in biology is internal to the discipline and, in many cases, has little or no relevance to other scientific disciplines. New advances within biology can be methodologically and technically sophisticated, but they will not necessarily bring greater changes in the basics of evolutionary theory, and they may also be so specific that they will be problematic to transfer. Therefore, the task is to sketch the major principles guiding the study of species, as defined in biology, and show how this thinking, with care, can be translated to examine political species. Of course, the full job cannot be done in the introduction, and different aspects of the complex species concept will be considered in the individual chapters.
In terms of species, biologists will instantaneously associate species and the species concept with all kinds of living organisms, and there will be an understandable hesitance toward using experiences beyond these traditional fields. When social and political scientists with an interest in political species consult evolutionary biology, however, they discover a number of exciting opportunities. Delimiting species is at the very core of biological science, and it is a complex exercise. Indeed, “the difficulties encountered are a strong indication not only of the great diversity of population phenomena and of types of species found in nature, but, alas, also of much muddled thinking. It is evident that the word “species” has meant and still means different things to different people” (Mayr 1963: 15). This characterization is still valid today, although advances have been made in various directions.
Before we go into a discussion of the concept and which criteria organizations must fulfill to gain species status, we can say a few words about the place of a species in the living world. A species is considered a component of all living beings, and therefore an individual species belongs to a hierarchically lower rank (taxon) than the more encompassing ranks (taxa) above it, such as “genera” and “family,” and even more inclusive ranks that bring together increasingly diverse groups of species. A species, therefore, has some unique properties that separate it from other more- or less-related species.
Notwithstanding various disagreements, uncertainties, and priorities, the biological species concept emphasizes that individual organisms belonging to the same species can produce fertile offspring and, hence, continue evolutionary lineages, which are essential to survival as species. This definition has also been discussed, and it can be argued that there are some, often minor, exceptions to this general characterization that are valid for most species. The validity of the concept is also discussed in relation to such issues as asexual reproduction, dealt with under the concept of parthenogenesis, in relation to self-pollination in plants and in relation to hybridization (Wheeler and Meier 2000; Abbott, Ritchie, and Hollingsworth 2008).
Successful reproduction in nature, however, is not the only criteria in the definition of biological species. It is further a key feature that organisms share essential parts of the genetic material, that they have basic morphological properties
in common, that their physiology reveals how their body parts work in similar ways, and that they occupy equivalent spaces in nature. The genetic background gives us knowledge about the pool of traits that species are shaped by thorough ancestry, provides them with many fundamental characters, and distinguishes them from other kinds of species. The morphological dimension can give us knowledge about their basic structures, which are further related to the coordination of how their bodies work in their overall physiology. Finally, adaptations to different environments are crucial for species, as these offer variable conditions in their search for resources in competition and cooperation with other species. Together, such basic genetic, morphological, physiological, and environmental factors help us differentiate between species.
To some degree, the emphasis on these different criteria is related to the specialization in biological science. There are many different subdisciplines, each with its own subject matter, key concepts, and elaborated theories. In addition, they are characterized by specific disciplinary developments, which implies that advances in the definition of species are uneven. Thus, geneticists tend to concentrate on the cell and molecular levels and apply methods other than, for instance, ecologists, who operate at more aggregated analytical levels, such as communities and ecosystems, which provide different sets of information on species.
For an external observer, biology may appear rather monolithic, and compared to the social and political sciences, we can count on a higher degree of consensus, but a closer look at this research also exposes a number of conceptual differences. Indeed, even within the different subdisciplines, there can be various scholarly opinions, but knowledge can also be contradictory and prevent drawing firm conclusions. This reflects the complexity of the discipline and complicates the integration of experiences from different subdisciplines into a unified definition of species.
For the purpose of our study, the criteria in the definition of species are all highly interesting and can serve as important inspirations, but some are easier to embrace and translate than others. These are intimately related, hard to separate, and have given rise to many historical and contemporary debates. A general lesson is that species are endowed with a range of shared properties, such as origin, structure, function, and behavior, that define them and separate them from other species along different gradients, and together these properties enable their existence in nature.
A thorough evaluation of these criteria implies that we count in various dynamics. In fact, the proper study of species involves not only current species and their various roots but also the life of extinct species, as covered by the discipline of paleontology and its key principles (Simpson 1944; Gould 2002: 745–796). A strong interest in the historical dimension is required, and this is important to bear in mind when studying social and political phenomena, although the time frame here is, of course, considerably shorter than in nature,
with a comparatively late formation of human societies not to speak of the relatively recent arrival of private organizations in politics.
Another important dynamic is observable within species, which are not constant entities. Within species, we may find interesting variation among organisms that are exposed to different environments, and over time, smaller differences may accumulate to the effect that new species emerge. Therefore, the definition of species cannot be entirely settled through theoretical argument and clear-cut definitions, and species must be empirically examined in nature, thus offering complex material for classification and further theory building.
The challenges of translation
A careful reinterpretation and translation of ideas from evolutionary biology is useful to examine many social and political phenomena, and we will gain important guidance that is otherwise hard to obtain. Translation poses many challenges, though. When we bring different disciplines into contact, the essential job is not to compare and develop both disciplines or, for that matter, reach a better understanding of specific units of analysis within the biological and political domains. The translation is unidirectional. We use concepts and ideas from evolutionary biology to understand private organizations, but we do not seek inspiration in the social and political sciences to study various animal or plant communities as “political systems” with corresponding “political actors” in the form of animals and plants—nor is there the ambition to make predictions about private organizations on the basis of experiences from the natural world. The performance of species in politics is complex, and biology can only provide limited knowledge on their future existence and survival. Assisted by ideas and concepts developed within evolutionary biology, we can, however, examine the diversity of private organizations that historically have been engaged in politics or are currently active.
The majority of scholars with a professional background in biology are not concerned with transferring traditions to other areas and generally adhere to their own subject field, wide or narrow, but the interest in such projects is stronger with regard to the micro level than to the macro level sketched above. There seems to be a greater ambition in the social and political sciences, or at least in some segments, to tap into perspectives offered in biology. Although some scholars are concerned with the translation of such ideas, they do not take a strong interest in translating the species concept per se, and species is, without further ado, equated with humans and thus different from our endeavor that sees private organizations as political species.
Obviously, the unit of analysis, the different private organizations in political life, is not in any way similar to species examined in zoology and botany. Using an analogy to study private organizations as political species, we acknowledge
that the transfer from biology to politics poses some key methodological problems (Patzelt 2017). In terms of analogy, different but related questions can be asked whether we want to study evolution beyond biology in broader terms, in particular branches of the social and political sciences, or with regard to specific kinds of actors (Peters 1980; McKelvey 1982; Prindle 2012; Van den Bergh 2018).
Given these conditions, a translation of ideas and concepts must be accomplished through a series of steps involving the path from biology to the social and political sciences and the move from the social and political sciences to those private organizations that become involved in political activity. These translations must pay attention to complex factors in each of the steps and, therefore, address both general problems and tackle concrete empirical issues.
A wholesale application of ideas and concepts is neither feasible nor desirable; indeed, it would both neglect the unique work done in biology and ignore the specific political context. Such a rigid exercise would do damage to the analysis of private organizations in politics, and we would be left with a caricature. Therefore, we are not working with a full analogy but a partial analogy—not only because the subject matters are different but also because not all the major ideas and concepts lend themselves to translation. Some are invalid and must be discarded, while others seem promising and demand further investigations, and in the following, we will briefly discuss some basic limitations and options.
A major feature of living organisms is sexual reproduction, but various kinds of breeding and mating are not relevant in our case. This notion is not really possible to fruitfully develop, which is obviously an important reservation when transferring basic thoughts from biology. Instead of focusing on biological organisms, which could also involve humans, we take an interest in entities that are not physical persons but are generally organized as legal persons, although the formal character of private actors can vary significantly.
While the organizations have no genetic ancestry, they certainly have important roots, and origin is one of the key dimensions that helps us classify private organizations. Historical roots are important, and in many ways, ancestral organizations pass on a variety of interests and values and assist in the creation of ever-new private entities without these being genetically coded. These roots are related to markets and civil society, which guide organizations, and this is another tool that enables us to distinguish major kinds of actors. The lack of a genetic dimension seems to have some consequences for the abundance of political species. In nature, the genetic pool is significant, forming new generations, but the various backgrounds of private organizations are shaped by other mechanisms that affect variation and deserve attention. Compared to the diversity of species in nature (Mayr 1982: 133–146; Wilson 2001: 33–46; Swingland 2013),4 the number of these actors tends to be very limited but still complex enough to catalogue, as we will discuss in the following.
In addition to their origin, private organizations can be distinguished through their different internal structures, their different resources and tasks, and their multiple interactions with the environment. In all these basic respects, it is possible to seek insights from biology, and to guide us, we draw on a number of key concepts from evolutionary biology. Some of them seem relatively familiar in the social and political sciences, such as the concept of adaptation, while others, such as the concept of biogeography, have rarely or never been addressed. And, if they have actually been applied, they have not been discussed in relation to the meso level and our specific unit of analysis but mainly or exclusively to the micro or macro levels, such as the concept of evolution, which has mainly been discussed in relation to human behavior or society. Even in cases where concepts have been applied to the meso level, only certain aspects have received attention, and the translation of ideas is fragmented. Therefore, a stronger and targeted utilization of major interrelated concepts is required, and they will be elicited from the pertinent biological literature, in each case demanding a careful translation.
In essence, species in nature and in politics display many important differences, and this proviso is important in order not to invalidate the transfer of ideas from biology to the realm of politics. This said, it should be possible to follow the broader biological approach, center on some key organizational dimensions, and draw on the basic criteria in the definition of biological species outlined earlier.
The diversity of political species
Until now, we have sketched how and under which conditions ideas from the study of species in biology can be applied, and we have also provided some examples of actors that are eligible and that do not qualify for inclusion in the study of private organizations. We need, however, to further specify this diverse group of political species and discuss some of the problems that complicate the selection of organizations.
Private organizations encompass a rich diversity of actors; some relate to politics, and some are not engaged in this activity, and it is only the former group of actors we are concerned with. In this study, private organizations with a permanent or temporary ambition, either rather implicit or explicitly expressed, but in certain cases concealed or even denied, are relevant to study as political species. Accordingly, their capacity to become involved in politics in a domestic or international context varies. Politics must not be understood in a very narrow and conventional sense, however. Accordingly, organizations rooted in market and civil society influence public policy in a rich variety of ways by either opposing, encouraging, or assisting initiatives or by creating their own ways of problem solving to prevent, postpone, or replace policies adopted in a traditional political framework, and, therefore, many activities unfold beyond formal political institutions.
The organizations have a private origin and rely on different kinds of action. Essentially, they are related to two major subsystems—namely the market and civil society—and with this economic and social background, firms and citizens find a variety of formats to organize and represent preferences in political contexts. In other words, the market and civil society can be seen as pools from which to draw various interests, but the whole pools are not necessarily exploited, and not all areas of the pools are covered equally effectively, giving rise to the emergence of organizations with different roots, structures, tasks, and relations.
The specific organization and coordination of interests are influenced by factors in the institutional environment, and these will have a direct or indirect impact on the formation and work of private organizations even if public institutions do not found or govern them in a strict sense. Thus, public institutions can encourage the creation of organizations and support them in various ways, but they can also influence the direction of concrete activities. They can further cultivate relations with certain organizations, grant them special rights, and integrate them into policymaking. In this process, private organizations may share responsibility for elements of public policy, and, of course, there is the ultimate risk that private organizations may lose their autonomy and be controlled by government, but it can be difficult to determine when they pass such a threshold. Nevertheless, such trajectories are important to keep in mind when studying the evolution of private organizations.
By focusing on autonomous private organizations, we include experiences from countries and contexts where private organizations, in principle, are today free to establish and develop political activity. It is, however, hard to determine such boundaries because the conditions facing these organizations vary across institutional contexts and policy fields, and they are also changeable, but we largely refer to the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) countries, which, after all, display a number of commonalities with regard to the role of private organizations. This does not suggest that evolutionary approaches are inapplicable beyond this framework, but some additional premises need to be established, and further theoretical developments are required for such analyses. With a particular concern for this group of countries, from which selected cases will be drawn, we are likely to find a comparatively high degree of diversity among private organizations, and this has some affinity with the basic condition in nature where there is no single power to manage the evolution of species. Nonetheless, this view on diversity does not imply that all private organizations will have equal opportunities or equal influence on politics.
In brief, the study of private actors embraces a diversity of organizations. Although political parties are integrated into the functions of governments and parliaments, they are still private entities. The private status of actors is no doubt easier to recognize in the case of the many associations and movements that seek to organize a diversity of interests in society and, depending on their objectives
and activities, tend to be less connected with official state bodies. The private character is perhaps also apparent in the case of many knowledge-based organizations, such as think tanks and foundations, which engage in public discourse but are furnished by private resources.
Organizations managed as corporations, such as consulting firms, may also engage in political action as their primary purpose. They have the same tasks as many other private organizations mentioned here, and, therefore, important overlaps exist in their various missions, but they do not organize groups as such, and, thus, private organizations involved in political activities are underpinned by a variety of structures, a factor that complicates the definition of private organizations.
The theoretical concepts employed to characterize them are equally diverse. While political parties are unsurprisingly studied under the label of “political parties” and in many ways form a specific subcategory of private organizations, the concepts used to describe and analyze other actors are numerous, capturing different features such as membership, funding, governance, or other properties. This might lead us to believe that we have to deal with very different entities, while in reality, different concepts are often used for the same kind of organizations, such as associations.
First, a factor that complicates the development of a unified conceptual language is that organizations are approached from different theoretical angles and disciplines. Thus, political science, sociology, anthropology, economics, law, organization theory, and management science grapple to different extents with the organization of private interest in politics, and in these scholarly communities, multiple concepts are to be found. Within each of these major disciplines, we also find different conceptual traditions. A particular challenge is that scholars specializing in comparative politics tend to use different concepts for private organizations than researchers examining their role in international politics, and aligning these can be difficult.
Second, the private organizations studied in this book are referred to in different ways in various geographic, cultural, and semantic contexts, and a major reason for the conceptual variation is that they occupy different roles in politics and that their positions are perceived differently. Therefore, it can be difficult to arrive at universally accepted concepts, and if we do, there is a risk that experiences and traditions in specific countries and cultures come to dominate such concepts, and, hence, variations are not sufficiently accounted for. These are challenges that have an impact on the viability and application of concepts, and they can complicate the identification and classification of political species.
Third, throughout history, different kinds of organizations have expressed private concerns in politics. In the past, they were given different labels by their contemporaries, and also today, various concepts circulate. Some actors have become extinct, while others have survived, maybe under new names, reflecting
new historical conditions and understandings of their role in politics. Furthermore, a variety of novel organizations have emerged, demanding their own vocabulary. These experiences can be difficult to summarize, but if we neglect historical organizations and practices, some of them still in existence, we fail to recognize the evolutionary character of species in politics. In fact, there are both important continuities and discontinuities in history that should be examined.
In sum, research on private actors in politics bears strong witness to the fragmentation in empirical focus and conceptual language. Scholars tend to concentrate on a single type of actor, for instance, political parties, examining how this group of actors competes and cooperates, but tend to ignore other, related private actors in their environment, thus missing many important aspects of their evolution. In addition, the use of different concepts for the same or closely related organizations prevents an exchange of experiences and inhibits a dialogue that is otherwise needed to address problems of joint concern.
After all, the carving out and attribution of the same concepts are required to define political species and systematically organize knowledge. This includes both the recognition of similar properties and the identification of divergent features among private organizations. In an evolutionary perspective, the large and diverse community of private organizations has common roots, but, with the passing of time, these organizations specialize and enter into new kinds of relations with their environment through mutual adaptation. The goal is not to describe and analyze all of these actors and their evolution in minute detail but to highlight major categories of organizations active in contemporary politics.
Overview of chapters
We can now turn toward the specific concepts taken from evolutionary biology and translated to politics, following the meso approach, especially to the diversity of private organizations. Obviously, not all the literature on evolutionary biology is applicable to political science, and not all concepts and principles are relevant. Therefore, a critical reading of both classic and current works is essential to identifying significant ideas and concepts.
The main body of this book includes three interconnected themes that are placed in a deliberate order. The first theme highlights the time dimension (Chapter 2) because species in nature and in politics are tied to and must always be understood in the context of time. The second major theme seeks to place species in relation to the space dimension because they always emerge in and unfold activity in relation to various kinds of space (Chapters 3, 4, and 5). Although the role of species is of course integrated in the discussion on time and space, we pay further attention to the species dimension (Chapters 6, 7, and 8), and species are neither in nature nor in politics alone but interact with other species in their environment. The complex interrelationships between private organizations as
political species, time, and space are shown in Figure 1.1, where different combinations of dimensions can also be examined.
This book builds on a number of key concepts that all have a prominent place in evolutionary biology, providing new insights for this study. Each of these concepts offers novel insights into the evolution of organizations, but taken together, they yield an even stronger foundation for understanding the emergence, interaction, and adaptation of private actors. The concepts are intimately related, and some constructive overlaps are therefore both unavoidable and necessary to demonstrate the theoretical benefits of evolutionary biology when translated to a very different domain of science.
The individual chapters will each consist of three parts: first, a presentation of the relevant concepts and some of the related sub-concepts as discussed in biology; second, a discussion of how existing research has grappled with these problems and how the particular concepts can be applied to private organizations; and third, some brief analyses of selected cases that cover different aspects of the concepts. Some cases scrutinize a particular organization, while others are concerned with a larger group of organizations, and although most concentrate on contemporary problems, some historical experiences will also be addressed. These smaller cases must primarily be seen as affirmative examples. This is a deliberate choice because the application of evolutionary thinking, moving it from one strand of research to another, has in many respects not been undertaken before. At first glance, the applicability of such ideas to private organizations may seem doubtful, and so it is in many ways more fascinating should these illustrations document the relevance of this reasoning. Of course, they do not deliver the final proof of the validity of biological ideas but rather provide promising evidence and encourage us to further qualify the cases.
Political Species: Private Organizations
Figure 1.1 Species, time, and space
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In Pace Conquiescare
Toward midnight, Paul Duval emerged from 355 McDougal Street, quietly closed the battered door behind him, and descended the steps. He slouched along the street, with the brim of his felt hat, which dangled over his ears, flapping up and down to the rhythm of his stride. Probably, he thought, some one would take him for a murderer or a burglar—although, to be sure, such people use automobiles in this twentieth century. Paul was especially conscious that the policeman leaning against a post of the elevated railway, did peer at him searchingly, whistled something, and twirled his stick meditatively. But perhaps all this was fancy, aided by the dim light of the arcs.
It was, however, likely that Paul carried with him a remnant of the atmosphere of the death-chamber he had just left—the green-walled room in the rear of 355 where Hanaré Tierens had died—and that the remembrance of this most recent experience created in his mind a marked sensitiveness to ghostly things such as policemen and Greenwich Village arc-lights. That calm, livid face, with its peculiarly French nose, had passed through some experience of which Paul, at least, knew nothing. He still felt the pressure of Hanaré’s hand, which he had held until the last moment. It had relaxed and become dead. What a world of truth and wonder was there in that moment, that relaxation!
Few men, Paul thought, had ever passed through emotions such as his own had been. It was bad enough to see one’s old friend and adviser die; to feel a hand relax, the way Hanaré’s had; to realize that it belonged no longer to a friend or an adviser. This, Paul reflected, was bad enough. But there had also been a girl—Hanaré’s daughter; a girl whom Paul had passionately loved for the last five years; a girl whose drawn, white face stood out now in his memory, like a ghost, to aggravate the torture in his heart. These two had sat facing each other during the last hours, when the doctor had gone,
and the rest of the house was asleep. They had not exchanged a word. The tragedy had been heightened by the silence. Paul had expressed his love too often for her to be able to forget, even at this time, the intensity of his passion. And once, when their eyes met, he knew that in her young heart one more sorrow had thus been added to her present burden—a sympathy for him, and a feeling of almost shame that she could not respond to his love.
Then there had been a frightful kind of mental telepathy which carried even his most involuntary thoughts over to her. How could he help thinking that since she was now alone, without her father, she might accept him as a lover and a protector? How could he avoid extending his sympathy for her distress into a conviction that, since she needed comfort, some overt expression of his love was justified? Indeed, once when she had laid her head in despair upon the dying man’s breast, Paul had stretched out his hand and stroked her hair. She had, then, taken his hand in hers, pressed it, and released it. The situation only seemed to strengthen the barrier between them, and to make them even more intensely conscious of it.
These thoughts flowed slowly through Paul’s mind, now that he was out on the street, walking toward his apartment. He cursed himself for his selfishness and for bringing into a death-chamber such passions and emotions, thereby to heighten a young girl’s distress. What if they were the passions of a lifetime! What if they had caused him inexpressible suffering! He was none the less a selfish brute, immersed in his own selfishness.
Upon passing a quick-lunch room, he decided to enliven his tired mind by indulging in some coffee and doughnuts. He opened the door, walked past the shiny, white-topped tables, and approached the counter. Here he was at once surprised by the beauty of the girl’s face, which confronted him, and which stood out against the background of coffee containers, cups, saucers, shredded wheat boxes, and the like, as though an inhabitant of his dreams had been transposed to this earthly environment. Paul, who was sleepy and dazed, stared at her until she was forced to drop her lashes and hide from him the blue depths of her eyes.
“I am Paul Duval,” he said, in his absent-minded way, “and I should like some coffee.”
The girl turned and drew it from the container Paul watched her— the slim back and the delicate, white skin which showed through her fine blouse.
“A strange world,” he sighed as she turned toward him with the coffee. “Isn’t it?”
He had not meant it offensively. And as she gazed into his vague, grey eyes, saw the sallow cheeks and the whimsical expression on the mouth, she divined that he was not talking about the world but about himself.
“Do you think so?” she smiled.
“Don’t you?”
“I think you are a strange person!” she laughed, turned on her heel gayly, and pretended to busy herself with something below the counter. Paul noticed that her voice was quite cultured.
“Do you work here—always?” he asked.
“One week,” she passed nonchalantly from one little task to another. “This is my first night’s work—my last, too—Fred was sick.”
“Who’s Fred?” Paul found it difficult to keep up with her.
“Night-man. Did you want anything else?” She leaned across the counter, exposing her slim arms, and a pair of delicate hands. She looked up at him, laughing.
Stupidly he remembered that he had come there to drink coffee. He fumbled for his cup.
“No,” he said, “—eh—that is—I’d like some doughnuts.”
She procured the doughnuts, and Paul reluctantly shambled off to a nearby table, where he sat down, facing the counter. It was indeed strange that this girl should exert so much attraction over him. He had seen beautiful women before during his twenty-six years of varied existence. However, he remembered with a smile that since
women had meant anything to him at all, he had been in love: first with a stolidly serious young lady, who was now married to a man much older than herself, and then with Marie Tierens. This latter affair had been going on for the past five or six years. It had become his ideal. It had given Paul the conviction that if a man is going to marry a decent woman,—well—the least he can do is to be decent himself. At the heart of civilization, he thought, lay the unitary standard. And thus he had crossed in safety numerous pitfalls which present themselves to the average hack-writer—the small dealer in ideas.
But to-night, ah, well—even one’s deepest ideals are shattered at times. The excruciating emotions of the past few hours had left him like a rudderless ship, adrift in a sea of bewildering passions. Hanaré was gone now. Without Hanaré life could never be the same. And Hanaré’s daughter had changed. She had become an independent woman. There was defiance in her eyes, instead of that ancient girlishness which had always kept hope alive in Paul’s heart. Indeed, the world had changed. For better or for worse, Paul, too, had changed.
In those intense moments of a man’s lifetime, wherein the past, together with the ideals which epitomize the past, are relinquished and a new method of life undertaken—in those moments a man is not fully conscious of all that he is doing. He moves in response to the predominant feeling in his heart. And there opens up before him new and unexplored vistas of life, at the other end of which he hopes to find some sort of Eldorado. To-night Paul was craving for beauty. Beauty to alleviate the coarseness of the death-chamber. Beauty to help him forget the face and the eyes of a girl who could no longer truly be called “his” girl.
He was awakened from his short reverie by a voice close beside him. “Good-night,” it said cheeringly. Paul looked up to behold the girl of the counter, in a blue serge dress, with a dark blue hat slanted to one side of her head. She waved to him as she passed. Paul gathered his queer legs together, and arose.
“Eh—are you going?”
The girl turned. “Yes,” she said, “I’m only on duty until one o’clock.”
“Really? Is it that late?” He felt for his watch, but could not find it.
“Good-night,” said the girl again.
“I say,” said Paul, as though he were embarrassed, “perhaps—well —wouldn’t it be rather nice if I were to take you home? We could— eh—go somewhere—dance—first.”
“Dance! At one o’clock?” she laughed. “I don’t think we could.”
“Of course.”
She made no move to go, nor did Paul, who was standing close to her. At length she took hold of his arm.
“Well, are you coming?”
They walked out of the restaurant and down the deserted street together.
The night spent itself. Some sort of a dawn crept across the city and touched the edges of the windows in the rear of 355 McDougal Street. As the grey light penetrated the room on the third floor, a girl, who had been lying across the body of a dead man, arose, looked stupidly about her, rubbed her eyes, and went over to the window where she gazed across the damp Greenwich Village roofs. She thought, perhaps, that she was going mad, with this silence which penetrated her whole nature, like the cold dawn that had just penetrated the night. But, strangely enough, it was not altogether her own loneliness, nor yet the painful sense of loss at the death of her father, nor even the ghostliness of his figure on the bed, that was thus driving her toward insanity. Rather, it was the remembrance of Paul’s face, the knowledge of his suffering for her, and the feeling that, although she could never love him—really love him, as she had pictured love in her girlhood dreams—still, the death of her father had removed the last tangible excuse which she had to offer him. She felt that it was not right to add to his sorrow for Hanaré’s death, a still larger grief caused by her own selfishness.
She smiled tearfully as she gazed out of the window Why, she was making it appear like a case of duty!—and, of course, no one ought to marry for duty. Actually, it was not altogether a case of duty. Actually, she was alone—and afraid of her own loneliness. Indeed, the image of Paul came to her like a light shining through the darkness. He was forced upon her, by the strength of circumstances. Hanaré was gone now. Without Hanaré life could never be the same. Paul had become essential to her very existence. Love him or not, he was essential to her existence.
As the sun rose and the day wore on, and she went about her necessary tasks, it seemed to her almost as though she loved Paul. She had never had a feeling quite so compelling as this. Before her father’s death, she had never wished to marry. She had contemplated some sort of a career, with her painting and her sculpture, which she inherited from Hanaré. Besides, her father had needed her. He had been a solitary man, with few friends, a dreamy personality, and so absent-minded that he required her constant attention. Thus life had seemed to her best, close to her father’s side, managing the little household, and doing her art at her leisure. The thought of children to take care of revolted her. And as yet no passion had entered her life, sufficiently powerful to make this secluded existence seem trivial or repulsive. Nor was there anything about Paul Duval to attract her strongly. He was the nicest and kindest man in the world, and he loved Hanaré; but for a husband— well—what was the use of a husband, anyway?
She felt differently now. She wanted Paul. Yet all day he stayed away.
Toward evening there came to her again the sensation that she was going mad. It was simply inhuman of Paul to leave her alone like this. There had been, of course, the neighbors, who offered their sympathetic assistance, and who tried to comfort this strange, silent girl, whom none of them understood. But because of her yearning for Paul, the neighbors only aggravated her nervous sorrow. And although she had consented to sleep with an elderly woman in another part of the house, until her father should be buried, nevertheless, late that night, she felt herself irresistibly drawn to
Hanaré’s stiff corpse; and she crept into the ghostly room, in her night-gown, to appease that unnatural craving. This was about ten o’clock. She sat for some minutes on the edge of the bed, but could find no consolation. Suddenly she jumped up with the wild resolve to go to Paul’s apartment and find out what had happened to him.
She reflected, as she slipped on her clothes, that this was a most unwomanly course of action. She was impelled toward it by the almost inhuman nature of her circumstances. She hoped Paul would understand. She hoped nothing had happened to him. Perhaps she could even be of some comfort to him, in this recent sorrow which so obviously depressed him.
In fact, as she made her away along the winding streets of Greenwich Village, Marie began to feel almost exultant. A new joy entered her heart, because she was relieving herself of intolerable burdens, and because, too, she was bringing to Paul a surprisepresent for which he had been waiting many years. She began timidly to picture to herself Paul’s expression, first upon seeing her, and later—perhaps even days later—when he should realize what this new resolve of hers meant to both of them. She found herself immensely relieved at the thought of transferring her small belongings from her present dreary apartment to his own. Her collection of books, her pictures, yes, and even her paints and her sculptor’s tools—all these she would show to Paul as belonging to both of them together. In his eyes and in his mouth would come that look of appreciation for things which were such precious possessions. It would be inexpressible relief! A happy life! They were both dreamers—
She arrived, a trifle breathless, at his apartment, which was four stories up in a brick building that boasted of no elevator. She knocked several times on the thin, wooden door, but no one answered. So she tried the door knob, found that it was unlatched, opened the door timidly, and gazed in. There was a vestibule leading into the sitting-room, and since the latter was lighted, she proceeded on tip-toe toward it. Upon entering she perceived a long, narrow room, hazy with tobacco smoke and heavy with the odor of stale whiskey. The bric-a-brac and furniture were in a state of disorder.
There were a couple of empty bottles on the table—glasses and books. She perceived a thin, sallow figure, sprawled out in the morris chair, staring at her in a glazed way, like a dead man.
“Paul!” she cried.
Paul moved slowly, blinked his eyes, shuddered. “Eh?”
“Paul!”
“I should not have wished you to see me like this,” he said, as though her coming were the most natural thing in the world.
“Are you—all right?”
“Yes, a little dazed.”
“Why have you been drinking?”
He sighed and bowed his head, in a tired way, until his chin touched his disordered bow-tie. But he did not answer.
Impulsively Marie ran over to his side and knelt there, with her arms upon the chair.
“Are—are you drunk, Paul?” She had rarely seen drunken men.
He raised his head then and looked into her eyes, which were so close to his. “No,” he said. “I have been drinking, but I am not drunk. I am merely dazed, by death, and by life—but mostly by life. Life is so strange. Have you never thought that?”
“Yes.”
“No—no—no! Not the way I have thought it. You only know the half of life—Hanaré’s half. You have inherited, now, Hanaré’s domain. Innocent, childish Hanaré! You are the mistress of his innocence and his naïveté. But it will never—never—never be the same again.”
“Paul! What do you mean?”
“O Welt du bist so nichtig! Du bist so klein, O Rom!”
They lapsed into silence then, for Marie saw that he was in one of those unintelligible moods, which had often come upon him, but which she had never seen so pronounced.
“Why did you stay away all day?” she asked.
“Have I been away all day? I had forgotten.”
“I have been lonely and miserable, Paul.”
“I am sorry. I have forgotten.”
“How could you forget?”
“How? There are plenty of ways to forget.” He arose and strode up and down the room restlessly.
“How could I forget?” She looked at him as though he had wounded her.
“I don’t know.”
They were silent while Paul continued to walk up and down. At length he proceeded.
“Certainly my being there wouldn’t have helped much, would it? It isn’t as though you had ever allowed me to love you or comfort you! God knows, I’ve been ready to do so—any time. I thought you hated me. Do you?”
“Yes,” she replied, “at this moment I hate you intensely.”
“Why did you come here, then—if you hate me?”
“O Paul, Paul! Because I needed you!”
He stared at her. This woman! “I didn’t suppose anybody needed me now, except the devil.”
He saw then that she was crying and that he had hurt her tremendously. He saw distinctly that he had been unjust. But his mind could not piece together the broken fragments of the situation. He, too, had been unjustly treated: it was not fair for a woman to allow a man to love her for six years, and to hold herself away from him merely for the sake of her own career—her own whimsical happiness. He felt that in the hour of need Marie had not been with
him. He felt this even more keenly than his own cruelty toward her now.
“My God!” he exclaimed, in the midst of his meditation “What twenty-four hours will do!”
There was undisguised bitterness in his words; a bitterness which Marie, conscious of the unprecedence of her behavior, construed as an expression of his scorn for what she called her “unwomanliness”. Her excited mind only served to intensify the horrid picture which she had drawn of herself. To think that she had come this way to Paul, of all people! Even the awful atmosphere of her father’s death-chamber could not excuse her for doing so. She wished that she could hide herself away. She was ashamed of her body—her very existence.
But Paul was not thinking of these things. He was merely astounded at the change that the night had wrought in himself.
“I wish to hell Hanaré hadn’t died,” he exclaimed suddenly, and without any reason for it. “Life is nothing but a constant attempt to adjust ourselves to the tragedy of existence. Since we cannot tell today what will happen to-morrow, we never quite succeeded in our adjustments: and so, there’s always a tragedy. We go on and on— like that!”
He felt master of himself now. But Marie supposed that he was lecturing her. There was an element of brutality in it.
“If we were automatons,” Paul proceeded, as though the sound of his own voice helped to drive away the real tragedy behind—“if we were all automatons, who acted out one day the same as any other, incapable of making fools out of ourselves,—why then, life might be worth living. But some fool of a God—a fool God—gave us this power to make mistakes. Marie, for the past six years both our lives have been mistakes. And now just see what you have done—and what I have done.”
Marie stood facing him, and clenched her fists.
“Paul Duval, you are undoubtedly the most unfeeling man in the world—the most pitiless—the most un—unreasonable. I know I’m a
little fool! Do you suppose I have no sensibilities? Do you sup—? Oh, heaven!” She fell back again into the armchair, weeping.
The situation between them had changed tremendously in one night, because his ideals had become incompatible with her ideals, his life had lost that simplicity and innocence which they had once shared together. Paul found that his love for her, just yesterday so vivid and passionate, had changed, and had converted itself into a red and golden derelict of the past, which he still loved, though in a different way. Like Dante, his love for a face and a living body had transformed itself into an intellectual remembrance—an ideal—a hope which, while it might later be fulfilled in some immortal existence, had lost, once and forever, its earthly potency. Just as the death of Beatrice had forced Dante to relinquish the earthly passion, so the death of Hanaré, which brought the confusing emotions of last night, had led Paul to reconceive Marie and transform her into a vanished reality, an ideal, rather than a living being. He had tasted, now, that side of life which does not permit of the more refined loves.
Indeed it was a strange position to be in: and the tragedy of it lay in the fact that he could never make it clear to Marie why he had done as he had, and why the relationship between them was now changed. Tremendous, this change!—almost infinite in character. Especially, she would never understand how it had come about so quickly. He sighed. “With questions like this,” he said, “of life and death—time has little, if anything, to do.”
He began to reflect that the course he had taken was an evil one. And although the forces which had led him along this course were still potent, nevertheless the sudden apparition of Marie into the midst of them recalled his old life with her, if nothing else. And this feeling, that he had better go back, repent, and, if possible, forget the slight digression of the night before, grew upon him, just as a glimmer of light, which increases in intensity, turns at last into a ball of fire. He even came to the conclusion that it was his duty to marry her. He felt that he had no right to add to her sorrow for Hanaré’s death, a still larger grief caused by his own selfishness.
He smiled then. He was making it out to be a wretched case of duty—and of course no one ought to marry for duty. Actually it was not altogether a case of duty. Actually he was alone in a new sea of conflicting passions, lost ideals, and hopelessness,—and he was afraid of his own loneliness. Indeed, the picture of Marie sitting there came to him as a light shining through the darkness. He no longer loved her. True. But he felt that in her he could find some salvation from the horrible destiny which immediately confronted him, and a relief from his present wretchedness.
“Marie,” he said suddenly. “You know that I have loved you!”
“Yes. You have said so. I believe it.”
“Last night there came into my life something which you could not understand—which I cannot explain now—which some day I hope to forget.”
She looked up at him, anxiously, as though fearing unknown things.
“Ah, don’t look at me that way. Let the past take care of the past. You shall know some day. I will tell you.”
“Why don’t you tell me now?”
“Because you would not understand—you would not appreciate— nor could I tell it as it is.”
“You only arouse my worst fears by talking this way,” she said. “I came to you as a friend, for consolation. I came in order to forget that horrible room. I wanted your companionship—perhaps for always. But you have only succeeded in making me more disturbed. I do not understand you.”
He went over to her chair, and sat down beside her, and put his arm around her.
“Come,” he said. “You and I must escape the tragedy of our existence. Together we will fly away from it. You will forget that room, and I—I shall forget myself.”
She drew away from him a little—from his impetuosity “I don’t love you, that way,” she said.
“Great heaven! Nor do I love you that way, any more You are too idealistic, Marie. Marriage, for you and me, is no longer an ideal, but a necessity. We will escape, that way. We will rest in peace and Hanaré’s death will be forgotten.”
She made no reply, but sat there as though meditating. Suddenly, from far out in the city, came the boom of a clock—a lonely thing beating the hour of midnight. It awoke Paul to realities. And, although he had so far been master of the situation, he now lost control of himself, and cried: “Twelve o’clock! You must go now, you must go!” And as she stared at him, mystified, he cried again, “You must go, you must go!”
He took her arm, and she arose. They stood facing each other.
“Promise me,” he said, “that you will marry me—to-morrow.”
She dropped her eyes. Impulsively he took her in his arms and kissed her—not passionately, but as he would a little child. And then he led her toward the vestibule.
Even then there was a knock at the door. He did not answer. He looked at Marie, and she at him.
“Who is that?” she asked.
He turned bitterly away. “Nobody! Fate!”
The door opened, since he had given no answer. There was a moment of suspense while the visitor was hidden in the vestibule. Then the girl of the counter, looking extraordinarily pretty, came toward them. She started imperceptibly upon seeing Marie, but regained her composure.
“Good evening,” she said.
“Good evening,” Paul replied, but did not move.
The girl proceeded to take off her hat in front of the mirror, and to make herself at home, adjusting her brown hair prettily and helping
herself to a cigarette from the box on the table. “You look tired,” she said “And the room’s a mess. Is there no one to clean up for you?”
Paul did not answer
Marie could do nothing but stare. She stared at the girl and then at Paul. Suddenly she ran toward the door and was gone.
“Who was that?” asked the girl.
“That is Hanaré Tierens’ daughter. Why did you come?”
“You told me to come at twelve.”
Paul sat down and put his hands over his face. “You have ruined everything,” he said.
“So you told me last night.”
“Did I? I had forgotten.”
“You said an old friend had died—and that you were in love with his daughter.”
“Really? I was quite frank, wasn’t I?” Her reference to Marie exasperated him.
“Don’t be cross.” She came up close to him and put her hand upon his shoulder.
“I am not going to kiss you,” said Paul, anticipating her.
“I haven’t asked you to, have I?”
“No; but I’m going to marry Ma—Hanaré’s daughter.”
“There! I knew you had something like that in your mind! You look so—so determined,” she laughed, in spite of her obvious vexation.
“I am determined.”
“What are you going to do with me?”
He started. “You? You aren’t going to make a fuss about it, are you?”
“That’s impudent!” She turned away from him and sat down upon the sofa restlessly.
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh, you needn’t be! Last night you let me know well enough what you thought of me. But I don’t mind, because I know that is what I am. I can’t remember ever being anything else; though, of course, if one is to be a man’s mistress, one has the right of choosing the man. I prefer education to ignorance, and a decent amount of politeness to mere brutality.”
“I am not merely brutal!” He stood up and faced her as he said it. “It’s you who are brutal—or at least you will be before you have done with me. Women are all cruel, because they understand men so well. Our souls are torn first by one and then by the other. I should like to make you see, however, that I have a duty to perform.”
“Duty?” She arose from the sofa, and came to stand beside him again.
“A duty to myself and—to some one else.”
“There’s a difference between duty and love, isn’t there?” This time she appeared to have no scruples, for she put her arms around him, frankly, and stood looking up at him. He held himself rigidly away from her.
“I am not going to kiss you,” he said again. That appeared to be his last defense in any case.
She made no answer to that, except to deny it with her eyes.
“You’re a witch!” he cried, drawing away from her suddenly. “A positive instrument of the devil. Leave me alone!”
“Why?”
“Why? Because I am going to marry Marie. Because, for Hanaré’s sake, I’m going to forget you. I was a fool last night.”
“Last night you said you’d rather be a fool than a wise man. I suppose you have forgotten that also.”
He cringed. “No,” he said, “I have not forgotten that.” He began wandering about the room as though hunting for something, picking up piles of papers, looking underneath the tables and chairs.
“What are you hunting for?” she asked.
“My hat.”
“Do you want to go out?”
“I’m going out. You can do as you please. I’m going over to see Marie.”
“Marie? At this time of night?”
He found his hat behind the sofa. He put it on, pulling the soft brim far down over his eyes.
“Good-night,” he said casually, as he walked out of the room. He was not fully conscious that there was anybody else there. He had one determination. In view of that everything else was forgotten.
Vain resolve! The windows at 355 McDougal Street were brilliantly lighted, policemen were in front of the door, people stared, and there was general confusion. Some one had been killed. Paul learned, finally, that Marie had committed suicide.
He felt, rather, that he had committed murder.
Thus, when he return to his own apartment and found the girl still there, he was glad to forget Hanaré’s death that way instead.
RUSSELL WHEELER DAVENPORT
Portfolio Melody
My lady sitteth on a shrine
And dreameth beauteously. She dreameth much, her deep eyes shine Like stars on a quiet sea. And to watch her hands so soft and white Is a never-ending, sweet delight. Lady of Day, Lady of Night, Queen of the World is she.
Inspiration
FRANK D. ASHBURN.
The smoking-room gave a terrific lurch. As if the motion had been a signal, Carlos Bentley abruptly broke off his sentence, at the same time removing his hand from the arm of his companion’s chair. Although the big steamer recovered almost immediately from the unexpected blow, Carlos continued to remain silent, his gaze wandering uncertainly around the comfortable room. But he did not notice particularly the brown sleekness of the leather chairs nor the subtle masculinity of the lighting. He was wondering whether he had not again let his tongue run away with his good taste in allowing it to run on over the history of his past two weeks to this gentleman to whom he had introduced himself. That was one of Carlos’ bête-noirs —a cheerful frankness and lack of reserve that made him communicate things he wished later he had kept to himself. But after all the fellow had looked lonely and— A polite question which
interrupted his train of thought finished by driving the self-reproaches from his mind. He answered the question at some length.
“Oh, yes! We spent six months in Paris. I got to know the place quite well—well enough to get tired of it. I’m looking forward to New York as a change. If it hadn’t been for my wife, I’d have come back before, but she insisted on our staying—for my own good, she said. You see, I went over to study art—portraits mainly. Spent hours every day looking at pictures and trying to copy them.”
“Do you plan to take up art as a profession?” asked his companion, knocking the ashes from his pipe. He was an elderly man who had an air of demanding confidences with a view of solving any difficulties connected with them from the depths of a thoughtful urbanity.
Carlos hesitated a moment.
“Yes,” he said finally, “I expect to. That’s my ultimate aim. But, of course, after all this studying I’ll want a bit of a rest—say a month or so. Then I’ll be ready to get down to work.”
The other nodded a thoughtful assent. Then—
“You’ll pardon the remark, but—you have an income, I take it.”
Bentley nodded.
“Very fortunate, very fortunate indeed. So many poor devils have to start with literally nothing but their talent. You’re unusually blessed. Well, I must be getting to bed. We dock early to-morrow, I believe. I’ve enjoyed talking to you immensely, and you’ll pardon my leaving so abruptly, won’t you? Good-night.”
Carlos stood gazing after him a moment; then, turning away, went off in the direction of his own stateroom. He had an uneasy feeling that the man had not quite approved of him, although he was unable to explain what he himself had said that could have given ground for such an opinion.
When he got to his stateroom, he found a message that his wife had left on his bureau before going to bed. It had come by wireless that evening and was from his father. On opening it, he read:
“Meet you at pier Glad you are settling down to work at last. D
Carlos laughed softly. Just like his father to mention work, even in a wireless. It occurred to him that everyone, ever since he was a boy, had been wanting him to work. They had all told him what great things they expected of his talent if he would only use it. His mother had cherished a letter from a boyhood schoolmaster, which dwelt in glowing terms on his artistic ability, while at the same time it decried his indolence. His wife had refused many suitors as importunate and more wealthy than he because she was in love with him, and believed that her love could make him fight for the success which was expected of him. Well, his father was right—it was time to start work. They had had enough disappointments in him, and now he must do something to make them proud of him. It wouldn’t be hard.
In an exceedingly virtuous mood Carlos bent over and kissed his sleeping wife. What a wonderful girl Eloise was, and what a trump to have believed in him enough to have married him. He would work as he never had before as soon as they got settled in New York. With which resolutions he got into bed to dream of painting portraits for the kings and queens of Europe.
Four months later in a studio-apartment in the low Fifties a wet paint-brush was hurled viciously at a small statue of the Laocoon. It struck the largest figure full in the face with a comforting smack, and clattered to the floor. Carlos Bentley had been trying to do a portrait. Eloise, who in lieu of a regular model had been sitting for him, started at the sound, then relaxed her pose. She was an appealing figure with a touch of dynamic force in the aggressive tilt of her chin that made Carlos, jokingly and yet half-seriously, call her his willpower; at this moment she seemed to be bracing herself as if to meet something.
“Why, Carlos dear, what is the matter?” she asked, approaching her husband doubtfully.
Carlos stood before a half-finished picture removing his painting jacket, which he hurled into a corner before turning to his wife.
“I’m going to stop,” he said impatiently “I don’t seem to feel in a mood for it to-day somehow. Besides we’ve been working for quite a while and we need a rest.” His eyes met hers half-defiantly, as if he were expecting some remonstrance. Then he added, “Come on down to a show, dear. We can do some more to-night on this.”
His wife turned away.
“I don’t care to go down, Carlos,” she answered slowly, “and I had hoped you’d want to work this afternoon. We’ve only been up here a little over an hour. Won’t you stay a little longer? You were just beginning to get the right feeling in the picture. I know you were.”
Carlos laughed and kissed her.
“There’s plenty of time for the picture and it’s too wonderful an afternoon to stay indoors. I’m going out for a walk. Sorry you won’t come.” He slammed the door as he went out.
Eloise sat down dejectedly on a straight chair. Her lips trembled until she could hardly keep from crying. For seven weeks this same thing had happened continuously until she was sick to death of trying to fight against it. Every day Carlos had alternated playing around the city with attempts to work which always ended like to-day. In all that time he had only finished one picture—but it had been good, and had shown the talent that was being wasted. If only she knew some way to touch the spark to that talent. Eloise found herself wondering whether perhaps she had not undertaken a task too difficult even for her love. It seemed as if Carlos utterly lacked the requisite energy to produce what he was capable of. With a sigh she turned to putting the studio in order.
Meanwhile Carlos, after wandering out onto the street, had set off in the direction of the park. The refreshing air of a sunny autumn afternoon soon cleared his brain, but there was still an uneasy feeling in the back of his mind. He felt that he ought to be working, yet was unable to, and he knew vaguely that he was not happy even in the freedom of the moment. In this contradictory frame of mind he
