18. "The Revolt of the Masses", by Jose Ortega y Gasset (excerpts)

Excerpts from "The Revolt of the Masses",
by
Jose  Ortega y Gasset,
New American Library,`
1932
 
The Danger of the Mass Man
 
[from page 1,
the "fly page"]:

Jose Ortega y Gasset
sees
two classes
of men:
"Those
who make
great demands
on
themselves,
piling up
difficulties
and
duties;
and
those
who demand
nothing special
of
themselves,
but
for whom
to live
is
to be
every moment
what
they already are,
without imposing
on
themselves
any effort
towards perfection."
 
Readers
of this book
will wish
to
test themselves
against
Ortega's definitions
to
ask themselves
if
their lives are lived
"as a discipline",
or
whether
they too
are
part of the mass,
having the traits
of
the spoiled child,
feeling
that everything
is permitted
and that
they have
no obligations.
 
The danger
Ortega sees
for us all
is that
the mass
may
supplant
the individual,
the minority.
 
He does not
welcome
the
political domination
of
the mass man,
nor
the
"sovereignty
of
the unqualified."
 
A
passionate believer
in
democracy,
he is opposed
to what
he calls
"hyper-democracy."
 
Even before
World War II
and
the
atom bomb,
Ortega
saw
that
man
believed himself
fabulously capable
of
creation,
yet
without
a knowledge
of
what
to create.
 
"Lord of all things,
he is
not lord
of himself ...

Hence
the
strange combination
of
a sense of power
and
a sense of insecurity
which
has taken up
its abode
in
the soul
of
modern man ...
 
Today,
by the very fact
that
everything
seems possible
to us,
we have a feeling
the
worst of all
is
possible."
 
Ortega y Gasset
challenged Europe
to
maintain
its
intellectual
and
moral
leadership.
 
One
might say
that
Europe
has failed.
 
He
sounded
a warning
against
the
"technicism"
of
the
United States,
and
the false faith
and
fervor
of
Communism.
 
He suggested
that
a worthy
and
workable
code
be framed...
 
In this witty,
penetrating,
and
human book,
Ortega
gives
a fresh,
sharp perspective
on
our own society,
our own problems,
our own time.
 
[from page 1, the "fly page"]
 
+++
 
"It is true,
of course,
that
at any moment,
and
therefore
actually,
an infinity of things
is happening
in the world.
 
Any attempt,
then,
to say
what is happening
in the world today
must be taken
as
being conscious
of
its own irony."
[p. 95]
 
+++
 
The Coming
of
the Masses
 
There is
one fact
which,
whether
for
good or ill,
is
of
utmost importance
in
the public life
of Europe
at
the
present moment
(1930).
 
This fact
is
the accession
of
the masses
to
complete
social power.
 
As
the masses,
by
definition,
neither
should
nor
can
direct
their own
personal existence,
and
still less
rule society
in general,
this fact
means
that
actually
Europe
is suffering
from
the
greatest crisis
that
can afflict
peoples,
nations,
and
civilization.
 
Such a crisis
has occurred
more than
once
in
history.
 
Its characteristics
and
its consequences
are
well known.
 
So
also
is
its name.
 
It is called
the
rebellion
of
the masses.
 
In order
to
understand
this
formidable fact,
it is important
from the start
to
avoid giving
to the words
"rebellion",
"masses",
and
"social power"
a meaning
exclusively
or
primarily
political.
 
Public life
is
not solely political,
but
equally,
and even primarily,
intellectual,
moral,
economic,
religious;
it comprises
all
our collective habits,
including
our fashions
both
of dress
and
of amusement.
 
Perhaps
the
best line
of approach
to
this
historical phenomenon
may be found
by
turning
our attention
to
a
visual experience,
stressing
one aspect
of
our epoch
which
is plain
to
our very eyes.
 
This fact
is quite simple
to
enunciate,
though
not so
to analyze.
 
I shall call it
the fact
of
agglomeration,
of
"plenitude."
 
Towns
are full of people,
houses
full of tenants,
hotels
full of guests,
trains
full of travellers,
cafes
full of customers,
parks
full of promenaders,
consulting rooms
of
famous doctors
full of patients,
theatres
full of spectators,
and
beaches
full of bathers.
 
What previously
was, in general,
no problem,
now begins to be
an everyday one,
namely,
to
find room.
 
That is all.
 
Can there be
any fact
simpler,
more patent,
more constant
in actual life?
 
Let us now
pierce
the plain surface
of this
observation
and
we shall be
surprised
to see
how there
wells forth
an
unexpected spring
in which
the
white light of day,
of
our actual day,
is
broken up
into
its rich
chromatic content.
 
What is it
that we see,
and
the sight of which
causes us
so much
surprise?
 
We see
the multitude,
as such,
in possession
of the
places
and the
instruments
created
by civilization.
 
The slightest
reflection
will then
make us
surprised
at
our own
surprise.
 
What
about it?
 
Is this not
the ideal
state of things?
 
The theatre
has
seats
to be
occupied --
in other words,
so that
the house
may be full --
and now
they are
overflowing;
people
anxious
to use them
are
left standing
outside.
 
Though the fact
be
quite logical
and natural,
we cannot
but recognize
that this
did not happen
before
and that
now
it does;
consequently,
there
has been a change,
an innovation,
which justifies,
at least
for the first moment,
our surprise.
 
To be surprised,
to wonder
 is
to
begin
to
understand.
 
This
is
the sport,
the luxury,
special
to
the intellectual man.
 
The gesture
characteristic
of his tribe
consists
in
looking at the world
with eyes
wide open
in wonder.
 
Everything
in the world
is
strange
and
marvelous
to
well-open eyes.
 
This faculty
of
wonder
is
the delight
refused
to
your football "fan",
and,
on the other hand,
is the one
which leads
the intellectual man
through life
in
the
perpetual ecstasy
of
the visionary.
 
His special attribute
is
the wonder
of
the eyes.
 
Hence it was
that
the ancients
gave Minerva
her owl,
the bird
with
ever-dazzled eyes.
 
Agglomeration,
fullness,
was
not frequent
before.
 
Why then
is it
now?
 
The components
of
the
multitudes around us
have not
sprung
from nothing.
 
Approximately
the
same number
of people
existed
fifteen years ago.
 
Indeed,
after the war
it might
seem natural
that
their number
should be less.
 
Nevertheless,
it is here
we
come up against
the
first
important point.
 
The individuals
who made up
these
multitudes
existed,
but not
qua
multitude.
 
Scattered
about the world
in small groups,
or
solitary,
they lived a life,
to
all appearances,
divergent,
dissociate,
apart.
 
Each individual
or
small group
occupied
a place,
its own,
in
county,
village,
town,
or
quarter
of
the great city.
 
Now,
suddenly,
they appear
as
an agglomeration,
and
looking
in any direction
our eyes meet
with
the multitudes.
 
Not only
in any direction,
but
precisely
in the best places,
the
relatively refined
creations
of
human culture,
previously
reserved
to
lesser groups,
in
a word,
to
minorities.
 
The multitude
has
suddenly
become visible,
installing itself
in
the
preferential positions
of
society.
 
Before,
if it existed,
it passed unnoticed,
occupying
the background
of
the social stage;
now
it
has advanced
to
the footlights
and
is
the
principal character.
 
There are
no longer
protagonists;
there is
only
the chorus.
 
The concept
of
the multitude
is
quantitative
and
visual.
 
Without
changing
its nature,
let us
translate it
into terms
of
sociology.
 
We then
meet
with
the nation
of
the
"social mass."
 
Society
is always
a dynamic unity
of
two component
factors:
minorities
and
masses.
 
The minorities
are
individuals
or
groups of individuals
which
are
specially qualified.
 
The mass
is
the assemblage
of persons
not
specially qualified.
 
By masses,
then,
is not
to be understood,
solely
or mainly,
"the
working masses."
 
The mass
is
the average man.
 
In this way
what was
mere quantity --
the multitude --
is converted
into
a qualitative
determination:
it becomes
the common
social quality,
man
as undifferentiated
from
other men,
but
as repeating
in himself
a
generic type.
 
What have we
gained
by this
conversion
of
quantity
into
quality?
 
Simply this:
by means
of
the latter
we understand
the genesis
of
the former.
 
It is evident
to the verge
of
platitude
that
the
normal formation
of a multitude
implies
the coincidence
of
desires,
ideas,
ways of life,
in the individuals
who
constitute it.
 
It
will be objected
that this
is just
what happens
with
every social group,
however select
it may
strive
to be.
 
This is true;
but there is
an essential
difference.
 
In those groups
which are
characterized
by
not being
multitude
and
mass,
the
effective coincidence
of
its members
is based on
some desire,
idea,
or
ideal,
which
of itself
excludes
the
great number.
 
To
form
a minority,
of
whatever kind,
it is necessary
beforehand
that each member
separate himself
from
the multitude
for
special,
relatively personal,
reasons.
 
[p. 7 - 9]
 
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