The Human Condition (4): Work

What Hannah Arendt refers to as work is the fabrication of things, those objects which – by virtue of their comparative permanence – create the “human artifice” within which we live. Unlike the products of labour, which are consumed, the proper use of the creations of homo faber does not cause them to disappear, and it is this facet which “gives the human artifice the stability and solidity without which it could not be relied upon to house the unstable and mortal creature which is man.” We are talking, therefore, of things such as buildings, tools and art – the many aspects of the human condition which may persist, even beyond the life of their creators. 

Fabrication in Arendt’s view is a process of reification – the taking of a concept and converting it to a physical thing. Key to the implications of work in Arendt’s terms is that this image or model that guides work “not only precedes it, but does not disappear with the finished product, which it survives intact, present, as it were, to lend itself to an infinite continuation of fabrication.” This idea has reached its culmination in the arrival of automation, which takes the reification process out of human hands and places it into the domain of machinery. Thus utility and beauty – the conventional standards of the world – become sidelined as objects are instead built according to the nature and limitations of the machines.

In doing so, a crisis of purpose occurs. In the work of homo faber, Arendt asserts that “here it is indeed true that the end justifies the means; it does more, it produces and organises them.” For instance, in the creation of a wooden table, the end (a table) justifies both the killing of the tree and the destroying of the wood. (In Arendt’s view, all fabrication involves violence against natural processes – even the working of metal still involves the interruption of a natural process, albeit the inconceivably slow geological processes). Regrettably, this thinking in terms of ends and means de-emphasises the role of humanity in these processes – if fabrication is to be meaningful, the ultimate end must be humanity itself, else we are making things solely for the purpose of making them. 

Unlike the animal laborans, which can have no inherent public realm in and of itself, homo faber produces a distinct public space, but it is not the political realm. Rather, the public realm of homo faber is the exchange market. The danger of this, however, is that when the marketplace becomes the central focus of society (as in capitalism) the fabrication of things ceases to be about the creation of use objects, but rather of exchange objects – the utility or beauty of the things created becomes secondary to their monetary value.

Again, the purpose of the fabrication process – serving humanity – has become lost. It is not that the marketplace is inherently problematic, but rather that the shifting of the production process to the creation of consumables (rather than lasting things) devalues the merits of fabrication. One can take pride in a well-made thing, but a consumable is merely fleeting. One of the many casualties in this shift of focus to a consumer society are works of art which “because of their outstanding permanence… are the most intensely worldly of tangible things.” In the marketplace, however, art is only valued for its exchange value, and not for its potential to enrich the spaces in which we live. 

Arendt suggests that just as the animal laborans needs the help of homo faber to ease the burden of labour (by making tools) and provide a space to live (by erecting homes), so “acting and speaking men need the help of homo faber in his highest capacity, that is, the help of the artist, of poets and historiographers, of monument-builders or writers, because without them the only product of their activity, the story they enact and tell, would not survive at all.” A focus on “the driving necessity of biological life and labour” or “the utilitarian instrumentalism of fabrication and usage” denies our capacity for speech and action, by which we take control of our world. 

Next week: Action

Comments

[zenBen]

All things disappear with time, and many things are only made to not be consumed by their use because it is easier that way. So the way I see it, and this ties into the point I made in comments on Human Condition 3, is that these definitions seem too subject to the vagaries of changing modes of society to be really valuable.

"the proper use of the creations of homo faber does not cause them to disappear"

Of course, this addresses my point to some degree - 'proper use' as the effector of destruction, is different to entropy and decay.
There are levels on which the distinctions blur, however. What about disposable buildings? The best examples I can think of have been kept (Tour Eiffel, London Eye...) but lets disregard that for a minute.

What really expresses the permanence of 'permanent' things? It takes an awful lot of work to maintain buildings, of whatever scale or originally intended permanence. The really permanent thing is the idea behind it.
Well, how does that NOT apply to consumables?

[Matt Mower]

Forgive me if I have misunderstood the argument here. I read this piece over lunch and found some parts I couldn't stomach... if I sound tetchy maybe it's indigestion:

"The danger of this, however, is that when the marketplace becomes the central focus of society (as in capitalism) the fabrication of things ceases to be about the creation of use objects, but rather of exchange objects – the utility or beauty of the things created becomes secondary to their monetary value."

"In the marketplace, however, art is only valued for its exchange value, and not for its potential to enrich the spaces in which we live. "

I'm not certain whether this refers to particular markets or to markets in general. But these do not describe my own understanding of capital markets.

In my experience it is (depending upon the context) the utility, beauty, or some combination thereof that defines the exchange value of an object.

In the case of art what is it worth? The picture I buy is probably worth about $10 in raw materials. Where else does it's value come from? If you think it's scarcity alone then I have some very rare paintings of my own you can have - if you can afford them.

I think the way those passages are phrased pre-supposes a way of looking at markets that I don't recognize. Utility, beauty, value is subjective to the purchaser. If I am starving your McDonalds bean burger is worth $99 to me. If I just ate it is worth $0. If I don't like abstraction you can keep your stinking Kandinsky.

Something that deforms markets is, in my opinion (and you will be unsurprised to hear), the operation of corporations and the governments that create monopolies for them. Corporations are not about "enriching spaces" so the market value to them of that approaches zero (except where negative PR is concerned).

I find, at this point, that I'm out of steam and not sure I had a cogent argument anyway. So I will close by saying "Markets are good!" and "Keep the government out of art!"

[Chris]

zenBen: I've already noted that Arendt's 'work' and 'labour' blur to some degree. The original 'labour' is farming, of course, which produces food, which does not last; it spoils. That is the archetype of pure labour. Everything that is a reification - a converting of an idea to a thing - is a product of work in Arendt's terms. It may also be a product of labour, of course; this is where the terms blur.

So in answer of your question "how does this not apply to consumables?" - in the sense that these are also a reification , these are the product of work. But in the sense that they do not last, they also represent labour.

I accept your caveat that even things of permanence such as buildings require labour to maintain, but still a building and a swizzle stick are very different things. :)

When Arendt criticises the consumer culture, it is because the ethic of the consumer culture is more concerned with consumption than with producing anything lasting, thus it favours labour over work in her terms. My example of the disposable kettle is perhaps apposite. So the consumer culture in Arendt's terms is the substitution of labour for work. I find this something of a stretch, but I can understand the point she is making.

Hope that clarifies. :)

Matt: what is in dispute is not how art gains its exchange value, but that art in this context is valued as a commodity and not as art. For example, if a person buys a painting as an investment and it sits in a cellar forever, this is fine from the point of view of it being an exchange object - but it destroys the value of the painting as an art object, which can only enrich the human environment if it is put on display somewhere.

In the case of your challenge that utility and beauty are the measure of the exchange value of an object, is the price of an SUV a reflection of the utility or beauty of the vehicle? It has less utility than most other vehicles, being strictly unsuitable for use either on or off road... It's exchange value is maintained by the effort expended on maintaining its exchange value i.e. marketing.

It is not that utility and beauty do not contribute to exchange value, but rather that when your economy is geared solely to exchange value and not the value to humanity, you create situations such as dependence upon oil - it's not that oil does not have utility, but other energy sources would serve mankind better, all in all. Still, the trade in oil is brisk because of its strong exchange value, and once that is established, it becomes hard to move away since to do so is to attempt to modify its exchange value, which is difficult to achieve in a free market.

Consider also French films versus Hollywood films. The former are arguably more beautiful, but their exchange value is far less, because one can ship a dumb action flick around the world and sell it anywhere, whereas a stylish French movie - despite having more artistic value - has considerably less exchange value.

Thus art is one of the things that suffers in a market focussed primarily on exchange value - because what must be made in such a market is what has the highest exchange value, not what has the most to offer in terms of utility or beauty.

Finally, it is not that Arendt was *against* the market - she certainly was not - she simply had grave concerns about how we currently operate our markets. Don't we all?

Best wishes!

[Peter Crowther]

... when your economy is geared solely to exchange value and not the value to humanity...

How does one compute a "value to humanity"? How does one maximise this "value to humanity"? Chris, you reported (and apparently supported) a pretty swingeing attack against utilitarianism in another post, based on the perfectly reasonable view that it was not possible to compare utility values; I do not presently see why it is any more possible to calculate and compare values to humanity of different actions.

One way of approximating a value to humanity is to find out how much of its available resources humanity is willing to expend on a particular course of action - this takes a distributed approach to the problem, and is essentially how a market works. Major issues with this are market distortion by (for example) artificially inflating the amount of resource that 30-something women are willing to expend to sit in a metal shell several feet above the traffic*, and people crystal-ball gazing and acquiring an item now because it may have a higher value to someone else in the future.

The distributed relative system of market value has its flaws, and they are tirelessly and ruthlessly exploited for personal gain. But I don't see how a centralised or absolute value system can be constructed.

[On a not-quite-complete tangest: Kandinsky, along with all abstract art I've seen so far, leaves me completely cold. Chris, you seem to appreciate it. If "humanity" consisted of Peter, Chris and Kandinsky, what would a Kandinsky's value to humanity be, and why?]

- Peter

* My wife would go out and buy a SUV on the spot if she had the cash - her biggest bugbear with driving is not being able to see through the car in front and see the state of the road, so she wants to be higher than everyone else. My own biggest bugbear is not being able to see through the SUV in front...

[Chris]

Peter: Firstly, it is important to remember that identifying a problem is not the same as advocating a specific solution. I agree with Arendt that the focus on exchange value can be problematic - this doesn't mean I have a specific solution to this problem!

"I do not presently see why it is any more possible to calculate and compare values to humanity of different actions."

It's not, and this isn't what I'm advocating. In fact, I'm not advocating any particular course of action at this point - other than discussion of the issue. Like you, I don't see any hope of an absolute system being constructed - but that not what's needed, surely.

If we understand the market forces (do we?), and if we teach the logic of the marketplace, might we not be better placed to have our own ethics influence the market? The absence or minimisation of ethical concerns in the marketplace is perhaps what allows greed to dominate the process.

The market reaches its prices through an emergent process, but we can influence that process through ethical spending and so forth. I suppose it is this conscious influence, if anything, that I am advocating.

Or, to put it in a concrete perspective, it is better to buy a car that supports your ethical ideals than to buy a car based upon its future resale value. :)

On Kandinsky:

"If 'humanity' consisted of Peter, Chris and Kandinsky, what would a Kandinsky's value to humanity be, and why?"

In terms of what the value of Kandinsky's paintings would be if you and I were the whole of humanity, this question for me becomes simply: what do I value in abstract art?

In brief, what I value in abstract art is its capacity to bypass words and go straight for the emotions. A conventional painting can be beautiful (say), but it is a beautiful depiction. Any emotion it evokes it does so through direct association. This is part of the joy of art. The joy of abstract art is the amazing capacity to evoke emotion without resorting to direct association.

I happen to believe that the vast majority of modern art is tosh. But there are abstract paintings - an increasing number of them - that speak to me on an emotional level. Even if you do not share this response (which clearly you do not), you can perhaps appreciate that any artwork capable of evoking an emotional response is something special and worthwhile.

Best wishes, and thanks for the comment!

[translucy]

Chris: Arendt's overall concerns will become more clear if you would read/present her book backwards - you already touched on this writing:
"Arendt suggests that just as the animal laborans needs the help of homo faber to ease the burden of labour (by making tools) and provide a space to live (by erecting homes), so “acting and speaking men need the help of homo faber ..."
Arendt in my view sees a certain mechanism of downgrading (from a somewhat platonic ideal) taking place in modern civilization that may end with a humanity of "animal laborans" that has lost all "sources of spiritual inspiration" - a humanity reduced to functioning as "biological machines" (see your post on "New Life"...)

Of course these remarks are just a very crude attempt of summarizing the book so I will be happy to read your continuing efforts to do a better job at exdplaining your own view of the book :)

[TT]

In considering Arendt's work/labor argument, my mind keeps turning to the poem below. I'm not certain if it is just attempting to escape the inevitable logical mental loops and dead-ends by distracting me with ... Oh, look, the pretty words ... or if it is simply that it sums up thoughts of the likely fragility of that which seems most permanent, the greater permanence of that which seems fragile, and the ultimate destructibility of everything.

OZYMANDIAS

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

TT

[Chris]

TT: I'm fond of that particular Shelley; it's certainly pertinent to the issue at hand. It's a reminder, in many ways, that in the fullness of time there all things must end; the product of work may last longer, but even that must eventually pass.

translucy: I agree that Arendt's concerns don't really come to the fore until later in the book: Action is where it all comes into focus (which we'll cover on Thursday this week).

I feel by drawing attention to her claims that a consumer culture was in effect a labouring culture, I may have obfuscated the essential idea of her labour - which is that labour leaves nothing behind (e.g. farming, cooking, cleaning etc.) while work produces things which last, if not on a geological time scale, then at least on a human one.

Still, this is a difficult book to summarise, and the posts thus far in the serial have at least generated some interesting conversation. :)

Best wishes!