Harari on humanism: setting the record straight
Book review by David Warden
In his new book, Harari’s Humanist Wars of Religion, Australian philosopher and humanist Leslie Allan challenges Yuval Noah Harari’s controversial portrayal of liberalism, communism and Nazism as rival forms of humanism. Allan studied philosophy and history at La Trobe University and is a director of Humanists Australia. A former vice-president of Humanists Victoria, he writes extensively on philosophy, religion and humanism. He lives in Melbourne.
Yuval Noah Harari’s Sapiens and Homo Deus have introduced millions of readers to a sweeping interpretation of human history. Among his more provocative claims is that the great ideological conflicts of the twentieth century can be understood as ‘humanist wars of religion’. Liberal democracy, communism and Nazism became, in his account, rival expressions of ‘liberal’, ‘socialist’ and ‘evolutionary’ humanism.
For the organised humanist movement, this taxonomy has always rankled. Humanism, as we understand and practise it, is committed to reason, compassion, human rights, democracy and the rejection of dogma. The idea that Hitler and Stalin have apparently been enrolled in twentieth century ‘sects of humanism’ appears to be seriously misleading.
Leslie Allan’s book is an energetic, extensively researched attempt to demonstrate that Harari has fundamentally misrepresented humanism and he is concerned that this could cause lasting reputational damage to the organised humanist movement. But given that Sapiens first appeared in English twelve years ago, and Homo Deus ten years ago, readers might reasonably wonder why humanists should revisit this apparently dated controversy. My answer is that Harari’s treatment of humanism has remained a source of irritation for many humanists, and the issues he raised have arguably never been satisfactorily resolved. Allan’s book is, to my knowledge, the first sustained, book-length critique of Harari’s thesis. Although rather late to the debate, it provides a welcome opportunity to examine the arguments thoroughly and perhaps, at last, put this longstanding controversy to rest.
Allan begins by challenging Harari’s classification of Nazism as ‘evolutionary humanism’, by which Harari means an ideology that regards humanity as capable of further evolution, in particular towards the emergence of supposedly ‘superior’ human beings. Allan challenges this classification by documenting the Nazis’ hostility towards freethinkers and humanist organisations, their appeals to divine providence and their rejection of universal human equality. He contrasts this with the evolutionary humanism associated with Julian Huxley, the first President of the International Humanist and Ethical Union (now Humanists International). For Huxley, evolutionary humanism meant recognising humanity as part of an ongoing evolutionary process, with the capacity to guide its future development through science, education and social progress. His internationalist outlook was explicitly opposed to racial nationalism and totalitarianism. Arguably, there's a family resemblance in the aspiration to direct humanity's future development. But the crucial difference lies in the ethical principles governing that aspiration, particularly whether human worth is universal or conditional upon supposedly desirable characteristics.
Allan similarly disputes Harari’s identification of Stalinism with ‘socialist humanism’. As a recognisable intellectual movement, socialist humanism emerged particularly during the 1950s and 1960s, when thinkers such as Erich Fromm and E. P. Thompson sought to recover the emancipatory and humane aspirations of Marxism against the authoritarianism of Soviet communism. Far from endorsing Stalin’s gulags, these humanists were among Stalinism’s critics. This is a valuable historical corrective. Stalinism can reasonably be regarded as a betrayal of Marx’s humanist aspirations, even while acknowledging that Marx’s revolutionary philosophy contained tensions and dangers of its own.
Allan’s treatment of ‘liberal humanism’ is equally detailed. He argues that Harari confuses liberalism with libertarianism and sometimes reduces the liberal tradition to an implausible philosophy of individual gratification. Classical liberals such as Adam Smith and John Stuart Mill were considerably more concerned with social welfare, justice and human flourishing than Harari’s account might suggest.
Particularly interesting is Allan’s discussion of Rousseau and Wilhelm von Humboldt. Harari sometimes presents the elevation of human experience as though it amounted to the pursuit of pleasurable sensations. Yet Humboldt’s ideal of Bildung concerned the cultivation and harmonious development of human capacities and character. This is a much richer conception of human flourishing than the caricature of individuals simply doing whatever makes them feel good.
Throughout the book, Allan supplies examples of humanists defending animal welfare, environmental responsibility, assisted dying, and evidence-based medicine. These challenge Harari’s suggestions that humanism necessarily elevates human interests above all other considerations, regards human life as invariably sacrosanct, or treats subjective feelings as infallible. Such corrections are welcome. Popular intellectual history inevitably involves simplification, but there comes a point when simplification becomes distortion. Harari’s talent for arresting formulations and grand narratives sometimes appears to carry him beyond what the historical evidence can comfortably sustain.
Nevertheless, I found myself increasingly questioning whether Allan and Harari are always discussing quite the same thing. Allan is principally concerned with the historical humanist movement and the intellectual traditions with which it identifies. Harari is operating on a much larger canvas. His understanding of humanism concerns an epochal transformation in which human beings, rather than divine revelation, increasingly become the source of moral authority, political legitimacy and meaning.
This distinction emerges particularly clearly in an illuminating correspondence between Harari and the humanist philosopher Andrew P. Norman, examined in Chapter 8. Harari explicitly explains that he is using ‘humanism’ to describe a much wider historical current, extending back to the Renaissance and Enlightenment. He acknowledges that this differs from the contemporary humanist movement’s understanding of the term. This distinction matters. A thinker may contribute to the historical movement towards human autonomy while remaining personally religious. Equally, an ideology may emerge from a broadly human-centred intellectual environment without subscribing to the principles of organised secular humanism.
No movement possesses exclusive rights to the word humanism. Its meanings have evolved over centuries, and intellectual traditions do not come with neatly demarcated boundaries.
Nevertheless, Harari’s terminology is undeniably provocative, and arguably ill-advised. By grouping liberal democracy, communism and Nazism together as humanist ‘sects’, he risks implying a philosophical kinship that requires far more justification than he provides. Historical influence, conceptual resemblance and moral responsibility are not interchangeable. Nor does a broad genealogy establish that humanism somehow caused the atrocities of the twentieth century.
Allan is therefore right to challenge Harari’s classifications. But demonstrating that Hitler was no humanist in the contemporary movement’s sense does not necessarily invalidate Harari’s wider historical interpretation. The more searching question is whether that interpretation genuinely illuminates the development, and dangers, of modern human-centered ideologies or merely imposes an ingenious but misleading pattern upon them.
Allan’s exasperation with Harari may have prevented him from giving that question some breathing space. His book is replete with references to Harari’s ‘bloopers’, confusions, caricatures and carelessness. Yet Harari strikes me as a serious public intellectual. His books have encouraged millions to reflect on humanity’s origins, achievements and possible futures. Allan himself acknowledges this in a generous concluding chapter, praising Harari’s storytelling and recognising the importance of his questions about biotechnology and artificial intelligence. Those questions may be among the most valuable elements of Harari’s challenge to humanist thinking. What happens when human beings acquire the power to redesign themselves? What becomes of human autonomy when algorithms can predict our preferences and influence our decisions? And what philosophical resources does humanism possess to defend universal human dignity against those who might rank human beings according to intelligence, productivity or genetic characteristics?
The organised humanist movement can sometimes seem rather too confident that its established positions represent the culmination of enlightened thinking. Humanism, at its best, should be an open-ended exploration of what it means to live well, individually and together, rather than a settled catalogue of approved opinions. Allan rightly reminds us that humanists have repeatedly opposed authoritarianism, intolerance and exploitation. His book is a useful corrective to some of Harari’s historical generalisations and a substantial defence of the modern humanist movement’s intellectual and ethical record. But perhaps the movement need not be quite so touchy about Harari’s expansive use of its name. The wider history of human-centred thought is not identical with the history of organised humanism, and we need not assume responsibility for every development that Harari places within his sweeping categories.
Allan helps us understand what humanists have historically stood for, whereas Harari invites us to examine the broader consequences, possibilities and dangers of placing humanity at the centre of our moral universe. Both enterprises have value. Rather than merely defending the boundaries of organised humanism, I believe we can benefit from engaging more confidently with the larger questions Harari has placed before us.
Harari’s Humanist Wars of Religion is available on Amazon
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