Sketch of Human Nature and a World Honoring Human Nature

I believe human nature limits the possible benevolent and sustainable forms of polity.  This is just a crude sketch of this belief.  

   A polity best suited to human nature must begin where human nature itself begins: in the necessary condition of living with others. Solitude—real, complete solitude—would be inhuman, not in the sense of being cruel or unnatural but in the sense of being pre-human, incapable of giving rise to the distinctly human faculties. Without others, there would be no language, no stories, no traditions, no shared world in which a self could recognize itself. Even the most introspective life, the life turned inward, depends on the inherited structures of meaning given by the presence of others before it.

     From this foundation arises not only speech but world-making itself. A human world is not just the physical environment we inhabit but the space of meaning we construct together—through work, art, memory, ritual. What makes human life bearable, even beautiful, is this web of shared reality: the stories that orient us, the arts that elevate us, the labor that dignifies, the roots that bind us to a past and to a people. These are not distractions from a raw, individual life; they are the very substance of what it means to live fully humanly.

   And then, the highest things: virtue, love, heroism, beauty, philosophy. These do not float above common life like distant ideals; they are cultivated through it, drawn out in the particular forms a culture makes possible. The truly great acts—acts of love, of sacrifice, of courage—are intelligible only within a human world that can recognize and name them as such. Even the solitary mystic, reaching toward God, does so through words and images formed in the common historical life of a people. The goods most worth pursuing are not solitary achievements but fulfillments of a shared life. So I agree with Aristotle: we are beings that cannot realize our potential – cannot become fully human – outside some form of polity. And the telos – the ultimate reason-for-being of a polity – is to make it possible for us to become fully human.

     This is why the question of polity is not merely a question of governance but of the conditions necessary for a full human life. The best political order must preserve and nurture what makes life meaningful: not merely security, but a world in which human capacities can be realized. It must not only allow but sustain the moral and cultural conditions in which love, beauty, and virtue can take root. A polity that reduces life to material survival or procedural fairness alone is not neutral—it is already a deformation, already an abstraction from what human beings actually are.

    The fundamental error of modern political thought is to treat human beings as if they were solitary, as if political life were a contract between self-sufficient individuals rather than the natural unfolding of shared existence. But to be human is to be born into a world already rich with meaning, shaped by those who came before, and to inherit obligations to those who will come after. A just polity, then, must not merely govern individuals but cultivate a common life in which the highest human potentials—love, wisdom, virtue—can be realized.

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   In all human doing, there is an absolute limit that may never be crossed. We may not break any eggs (human beings) to make the omelet (a good polity). (This principle of Lenin’s was evil and condemned the attempt to build a socialist society in the former USSR.) Nothing good can come of evil. Every action, every polity must answer the question: “Is it good?” For a polity to be truly just and desirable, its foundation must be an unwavering commitment to what is good and, by extension, a rejection of what is evil. This means that the equality of moral worth and the embrace of human dignity (a common humanity) are not relative or negotiable in the pursuit of political or social goals. Instead, they are absolute standards that every action or policy must meet. In other words, if an action or policy fails to meet the standard of goodness, if it involves any element of evil, it cannot be justified, regardless of the intended positive outcomes. Thus I think the first principle of any constitution must be that of the Federal Republic of Germany: die Würde des Menschen ist unantastbar; the dignity of Man (i.e. every human being) is inviolable.

      The idea that “being equal in dignity is the basis for justice” underscores that every human being holds an intrinsic worth that is not contingent on their utility or their contribution to the polity. Justice, then, is not merely a procedural or distributive mechanism; it is fundamentally about honoring and safeguarding the inherent value of each person. A just society recognizes and protects this equality of dignity, ensuring that no individual's rights or worth are compromised for collective gain. Aristotle’s Athens was radically unjust because it was a slave society and did not consider women or children to be of equal moral worth. Justice is the very condition that renders any polity desirable. A political order that respects absolute moral values and the equal dignity of its citizens is inherently just, and it is this justice that confers legitimacy and desirability upon it. Conversely, if a polity is built on methods or principles that involve moral compromises, if it employs evil means to achieve a so-called good (exploitation, oppression), it loses its claim to be truly good or just. No matter how efficient or orderly such a society might appear, it remains fundamentally flawed if it undermines the intrinsic worth of its members.

   Where does the idea of human dignity come from? From being able to see other imaginatively as we see our children: as love-able, as intelligible objects of love, as someone's child. (Or pity when a human being was deprived of this existential, empowering love that lets us be.) I will develop that thought now.

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     Within these limits, the goal of a polity must be to promote the highest realization of humanity – the highest human potential.  A polity is only as good as its people – only as just, self-restrained, courageous, wise, and loving as its people. Which is just the foundation for the fullest realization of our nature. Just, self-restrained, courageous, wise, and loving is what we are meant to be, or become; and we only become fully human (actualize our humanity) when we actualize these virtues or perfections.

   We cannot become what we ought to become – or only through a difficult rebellion – unless we were loved as children. We are born incomplete. No one can find themselves love-able who has not received the gift of love from others – and above all from mother and father. Much more than a feeling, love is the conviction that it is “good, very good” that the loved one is, that they exist, that they have been brought into the world. Love is affirmation, an affirmation that no person can grant themselves. It is like giving us permission to be. Great thinkers like Hegel understood that we can only understand ourselves as self-conscious creatures possessing dignity once this dignity has been recognized by others. Deeper than that is the power that love has to activate our journey to becoming fully human. Love is the root of our being “social animals,” as Aristotle defined us.

    The family is thus part of human nature. A child needs the love of both mother and father. Children raised without one parent often face a range of interlinked challenges that affect their emotional, psychological, and social well-being. The absence of a consistent parental figure can disrupt the development of secure attachment bonds, leading to feelings of abandonment, low self-esteem, and chronic insecurity. Without the dual influence of both nurturing and guiding presences, children may miss out on the balanced role models that help them integrate vulnerability with strength, often resulting in difficulties establishing healthy boundaries and managing emotions. This imbalance can manifest as heightened anxiety, depression, and behavioral issues, as the child struggles to regulate stress without the support of both parents. These children often find it harder to cope with setbacks and form trusting relationships, further isolating them and exacerbating emotional challenges. While many children in single-parent households show resilience – especially when supported by extended family – the absence of one parent's influence can create vulnerabilities that impact their ability to fulfill their true nature. I also think the extended family – grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins are very important for a child’s ability to feel grounded.

     Moreover, families cannot thrive in isolation but require communities that uphold and honor them. The family is not a self-sufficient unit but part of a larger web of relationships—neighbors, extended kin, and local institutions—that sustain it. Without such a community, families are left vulnerable to economic pressures, cultural fragmentation, and a loss of purpose. The modern, industrial economy is responsible for eroding these communal bonds, isolating individuals, and reducing human relationships to mere transactions. Families need a culture that values fidelity, stewardship, good work, and responsibility – virtues that only a well-ordered community can cultivate.

     Just as a child needs both parents to flourish, families need a moral and economic order that reinforces their stability and purpose. A culture that devalues marriage, rewards transience, and isolates individuals in pursuit of self-interest ultimately weakens the very foundation of family life and must be considered contrary to human nature. In contrast, communities structured around virtues create the conditions in which families can truly thrive. Thus, human nature is not merely familial but also communal; the good life is not lived in radical autonomy but in relationships of duty and love, woven together in a shared moral order.

    Genuine politics – the kind that enables human flourishing – a is rooted in the small-scale, participatory community rather than in vast, impersonal states or empires. For Aristotle, the polis is the natural framework for human life because it allows for self-governance, meaningful participation, and the cultivation of virtue. He argues in the Politics that man is a politikon zōon (a political animal), meaning that human beings are not meant to live in isolation or under despotism but in a community where they can deliberate about justice, the common good, and the best way to live. A true polis is small enough that citizens know one another and can engage in this shared pursuit of the good. Large empires, by contrast, reduce governance to mere administration, severing the connection between individual action and collective responsibility.

     Hannah Arendt, building on this classical vision, argues in The Human Condition that authentic politics requires a public space where individuals can engage in speech and action—not as private individuals driven by necessity, but as citizens shaping their common world. In mass societies, individuals become alienated, reduced to laborers and consumers rather than active participants in political life. Bureaucratic states and empires, which centralize power and erode local autonomy, deny people the ability to meaningfully shape their own communities. They are thus blocks to human thriving. A thriving human life is not possible without a polis-like political realm—a space where human beings live not merely under laws but in communities that foster responsibility, deliberation, and shared purpose. Vast nations and empires, by concentrating power at an unaccountable distance, ultimately negate the conditions for human flourishing by reducing citizens to passive subjects rather than active participants in a shared moral and political life.

    Aristotle and Hannah Arendt both argue that human beings are not fully themselves in isolation or under centralized, bureaucratic rule; rather, they reveal who they truly are through action and speech within a real political community. Aristotle’s polis is not merely a structure for survival but the arena in which human beings can pursue the good life through virtuous action and meaningful participation. Arendt expands on this in The Human Condition, arguing that it is through speech and action—undertaken in the presence of others—that individuals disclose who they are, rather than merely what they are. In contrast to labor and necessity, which reduce people to their biological or economic functions, political life in a true polis allows for the full emergence of personal identity. This is a fruit of human nature actualized.

    In small-scale, participatory communities, people engage in genuine deliberation and action, making their unique perspectives and values visible to others. This is not possible in mass societies or empires, where individuals are reduced to anonymous, interchangeable roles within vast systems of power. In such large-scale structures, one’s identity is often defined by impersonal categories—worker, taxpayer, subject—rather than by one's unique contributions and personal commitments. Without a polis in which speech and action matter, human life is diminished, and individuals are deprived of the space where they can truly reveal themselves, forging meaningful relationships and shaping their shared world. Thus, the polis is not merely a political necessity; it is an existential one, providing the only real context in which human beings can fully appear as persons rather than as mere functions within an impersonal system.

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   An economy oriented toward actualizing our most human potentials would be one rooted in the dignity of work, the integrity of local communities, and the cultivation of virtues necessary for a good life. This requires that technology support the community; not the community beings dissolved for the sake of more powerful and profitable technology. 

  A good economy remains embedded in the land, local knowledge, and the mutual responsibilities of a community. It values small-scale, diversified farming and artisanal work as essential to sustaining both the earth and human dignity. Work should be meaningful and done with love, rejecting the dehumanization of mass production. Industrial economies that prioritize efficiency over craftsmanship strip both work and art of their integrity, making labor a mere means to an end rather than a fulfilling practice. In a well-ordered society, work is pursued for its intrinsic excellence rather than for profit alone, and people are connected to the fruits of their labor.

     In contrast, a corporate capitalist economy, with exceptions, prioritizes efficiency, scalability, and profit over the well-being of workers, the health of communities, and the integrity of work itself. It alienates people from the meaning of their labor, reduces work to a means of consumption, and fosters a culture of disposability—both in products and in human relationships. Where a virtuous economy fosters responsibility, skill, and connection, a profit-driven economy often creates dependence, superficiality, and detachment from place and purpose. The best economy, then, is one that allows people to cultivate their highest human potentials, ensuring that work, production, and community life serve not just material survival but the full flourishing of the human soul.

     Work can either be alienating or non-alienating, depending on whether it allows the worker to actualize human nature through excellence. Alienating work reduces labor to a mere means to an end—typically survival or profit—separating the worker from the purpose, process, and product of their labor. When labor is fragmented, repetitive, or disconnected from the worker’s creative agency, it becomes dehumanizing, preventing the full exercise of skill, judgment, and personal investment. Non-alienating work, by contrast, is the kind that engages the worker as a whole person, allowing for craftsmanship, responsibility, and the pursuit of excellence. It fosters habits of care, patience, and mastery, cultivating the virtues that lead to human flourishing. In such work, there is an intrinsic satisfaction in making something well, in contributing meaningfully to a community, and in seeing the fruit of one’s labor. A society that values non-alienating work recognizes that labor is not merely about economic exchange but about forming the kind of persons we become. It understands that human dignity is best preserved when work is structured not around maximizing efficiency but around developing the intellect, virtues, and creativity that fulfill our nature.

   Christianity deepens this vision of the economy by rooting it in the doctrines of Creation and the theological virtues. If the world is created by God and declared good, then human work is not merely a means of survival or self-expression but a participation in the divine order, a way of cultivating and caring for creation. Labor, when rightly ordered, reflects both the creativity of the Creator and the stewardship entrusted to mankind. The theological virtues—faith, hope, and charity—transform economic life by orienting it beyond mere material concerns toward love of neighbor and the Creation. There is a vision of work as service rather than mere production. A society shaped by these virtues values relationships over efficiency, responsibility over exploitation, and generosity over accumulation. When faith and love inform labor and exchange, economic life becomes not a site of competition and alienation but of community, gratitude, and mutual support. In contrast, an economy severed from these transcendent goods falls into disorder, turning work into drudgery, wealth into an idol, and relationships into transactions. A truly human economy must therefore be more than sustainable—it must be sacramental, reflecting the divine order and the call to love, in which every act of making, giving, and tending to the world is a participation in the greater good.

     Christianity transforms the relationship of the community to outsiders by expanding the ordo amoris—the order of love—to include not just fellow believers or members of one’s immediate community, but also strangers, enemies, and those outside one’s social or cultural group. The command to "love thy neighbor" is radicalized in the parable of the Good Samaritan, where Jesus illustrates that true love transcends societal boundaries, inviting individuals to extend compassion and care to those whom others may consider "outsiders" or "undeserving." In this vision, the Christian community is called to love not out of obligation or self-interest, but out of a commitment to the inherent dignity of all human beings, regardless of their background or status. The ordo amoris thus becomes a more expansive and inclusive framework, one that challenges the tribalism and exclusion that often define human societies. A community shaped by this vision of love sees the well-being of the outsider as integral to its own flourishing and understands that its true strength lies not in the preservation of its own boundaries, but in the extension of mercy, justice, and care beyond them. This broader view of neighborliness transforms not only individual hearts but the very structure of social and economic relationships, creating a society that is more just, compassionate, and oriented toward the common good.  This brings me back to the beginning: love is a judgment that the beloved is “good, very good” – a granting of the claim to be. The love parents show their baby is thus connected to a love of the world and all the people in it – in the sense of affirming their existence and willing their good. Without the latter the possibility of the former is endangered.

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I am trying to sketch the outlines of an Idea. The facts of the fallen world that make the even distant realization of this Idea practically impossible are condemned by the Idea.