Culture and Anarchy: An Essay in Political and Social Criticism

“Culture, which is the study of perfection, leads us [ . . . ] to conceive of true human perfection as harmonious perfection, developing all sides of our humanity; and as a general perfection, developing all parts of our society. For if one member suffer, the other members must suffer with it; and the fewer there are that follow the true way of salvation the harder it is to find.”

Arnold here offers a crucial definition of what true “culture” is: the “study of perfection,” which emphasizes both the moral aspects of Arnold’s theories and his idealized conception of what culture should be. Arnold also emphasizes that true culture benefits not just the individual but society as a whole, leading to “general perfection.” Arnold’s analogy of the “true way of salvation” reflects his habitual use of religion as a contextual framing device for cultural matters while also suggesting the redemptive qualities that true culture—like religion—can bring on both individual and societal levels.

“The great works by which, not only in literature, art, and science generally, but in religion itself, the human spirit has manifested its approaches to totality, and a full, harmonious perfection, and by which it stimulates and helps forward the world’s general perfection, come, not from Nonconformists, but from men who either belong to Establishments or have been trained in them.”

Arnold defines “great works” across the fields of human endeavor as developing the “human spirit” in its quest for “harmonious perfection,” suggesting that Arnold regards culture as ultimately bringing unity and tranquility to the human spirit. His comment regarding how all “great works” come from “men who either belong to Establishments or have been trained in them” emphasizes his conservative approach to culture and change, as Arnold rejects the idea that “Nonconformists,” or other disruptive radicals, could ever be the bearers of true culture. Arnold’s support for Establishments—be they political, social, or religious—will be an important aspect of his thought throughout Culture and Anarchy.

“I am, above all, a believer in culture. Therefore I propose now to try and enquire [ . . . ] what culture really is, what good it can do, [and] what is our own special need of it; and I shall seek to find some plain grounds on which a faith in culture [ . . . ] may rest securely.”

Arnold presents his mission statement for Culture and Anarchy here in his Introduction. His mission is threefold: He wishes to seek to define culture (“what culture really is”), what its purpose and benefits are (“what good it can do”), and why his English readers have a “special need of it”—in other words, why it is so urgent and essential for Arnold and his contemporaries to understand true culture and pursue it. Arnold’s desire to “find some plain grounds” for justifying his “faith” as a “believer” in the importance of culture once more contains echoes of religious language, while his longing to have that faith “rest securely” speaks to the importance of stability and order in Arnold’s thought.

“The idea of perfection as an inward condition of the mind and spirit is at variance with the mechanical and material civilisation in esteem with us, and nowhere, as I have said, so much in esteem as with us [the English].”

Arnold’s argument for the possibility of “perfection” as an “inward condition of the mind and spirit” stresses the moral and even spiritual significance he attributes to true culture. His emphasis on the “mind and spirit” over outward action reflects Arnold’s insistence elsewhere in the work on the importance of seeking inner transformation over direct public involvement. His contrasting of this inward perfection with “the mechanical and material civilisation” valorized by English Victorian society reflects Arnold’s concerns that England’s industrial and economic success comes at the price of more enlightened, cultural pursuits and values.

“Faith in machinery is, I said, our besetting danger; often in machinery most absurdly disproportioned to the end which this machinery, if it is to do any good at all, is to serve; but always in machinery, as if it had a value in and for itself.”

Arnold here continues to demonstrate his suspicions towards industrialism’s enormous influence on the economics and social values of Victorian society, arguing that “faith in machinery” is often both disproportionate and misplaced. Arnold believes that machinery is only a means to an end, but Victorian society has begun valuing it for its own sake as if it were something noble and worthy in and of itself. The “faith” Victorian society has in industrialism stands in direct contrast to Arnold’s own earlier-proclaimed identity as a “believer” in the power and value of true culture.

“But culture indefatigably tries, not to make what each raw person may like, the rule by which he fashions himself; but to draw ever nearer to a sense of what is indeed beautiful, graceful, and becoming, and to get the raw person to be like that.”

For Arnold, true culture is transformative: It takes the “raw person,” with all their flaws and misguided impulses, and transforms them into a more generalized, higher ideal of what a human being can and should be. Arnold’s description of culture’s ultimate ideal as “beautiful, graceful, and becoming” speaks to his conception of culture as a stabilizing and civilizing force, one that promotes greater harmony instead of abruptly disrupting traditional values and the social order. Arnold’s mistrust of “what each raw person may like” and “the rule by which he fashions himself” speaks to Arnold’s reservations about the temptations of individualism in the English national psyche.

“[T]he idea which culture sets before us of perfection […] is an idea which the new democracy needs far more than the idea of the blessedness of the [voting] franchise, or the wonderfulness of their own industrial performances.”

This passage contains two elements crucial to Arnold’s thought. First, Arnold’s association of culture with the idea of “perfection” embodies his consistent emphasis on culture’s ultimate aim being the perfecting of man and society. Second, Arnold’s insistence that culture and its “perfection” is something more urgent and necessary for democracy than “the blessedness of the [voting] franchise” or “industrial performances” reflects Arnold’s habitual mistrust of political and social upheaval. His dismissal of the right to vote and the economic power inherent in working-class “industrial performances” speaks to Arnold’s essentially conservative social views, in which the moral and intellectual perfection of an individual is more important than political enfranchisement.

“[H]e who works for sweetness and light united, works to make reason and the will of God prevail.”

“Sweetness and light” is Arnold’s key maxim in Culture and Anarchy. For Arnold, this formula represents the harmonious perfection true culture can bring to individuals and society at large. His argument that anyone who works to promote true culture is also working “to make reason and the will of God prevail” ties into the more religious overtones of Arnold’s views of culture while also reflecting his general idealistic tendencies. Arnold believes that the perfecting of mankind and society is possible because he accepts the existence of a higher reason and “will of God” that represent the moral and intellectual standards to which mankind should aspire.

“Hitherto I have been speaking chiefly on beauty, or sweetness, as a character of perfection. To complete rightly my design, it evidently remains to speak also of intelligence, or light, as a character of perfection.”

Arnold’s “sweetness and light” maxim contains two elements, which are here explicitly defined within a single passage. “Sweetness” refers to beauty while “light” refers to reason and intelligence. When sweetness and light, or beauty and reason, become united within a single individual, “perfection” is possible to attain.

[We] can have no scruple at all about abridging, if necessary, a non-Englishmen’s assertion of personal liberty. The British constitution, its checks, and its prime virtues, are for Englishmen.”

Arnold’s political and social conservatism is an important guiding element throughout Culture and Anarchy. In this passage, Arnold rejects the idea of “liberty” belonging to human beings throughout the world as an automatic birthright. Instead, Arnold conceives of “liberty” in highly pragmatic and nationalistic terms, arguing that it is the “British constitution” that grants such liberties and not any universal natural law. Arnold’s assertion that the “virtues” of the constitution “are for Englishmen” alone and that a “non-Englishman’s assertion of personal liberty” can be disregarded reflects the imperialistic attitudes common in Victorian British society at the height of its world empire.

“Culture suggests the idea of the state. We find no basis for a firm state power in our ordinary selves; culture suggests one to us in our best self.”

Arnold is a firm believer in establishments and hierarchies as safeguards against the “anarchy” that is the antithesis to true culture. Arnold defends not only religious hierarchies but also political ones: Here, he argues that true culture supports the legitimacy of “the state.” In arguing that acceptance of the state’s “firm” authority is evidence of “our best self” and not “our ordinary self,” Arnold represents the state as evidence of mankind’s higher impulses and culture’s beneficent influence.

“Great changes there must be, for a revolution cannot accomplish itself without great changes; yet order there must be, for without order a revolution cannot accomplish itself by due course of law. So whatever brings risk of tumult and disorder [. . .] our best self, our right reason, plainly enjoins us to set our faces against it. It enjoins us to encourage and uphold the occupants of the executive power, whoever they may be, in firmly prohibiting them.”

The counterpoint to true culture in Arnold’s thought is always anarchy. For Arnold, anarchy lurks behind the “tumult and disorder” born of revolutionary impulses that run unchecked. Since the state is the strongest safeguard against disorder, Arnold argues that “our best self” will always support the state over the forces of radical upheaval. His urging for individuals to support “the executive power” in “prohibiting” mass gatherings, protests, and other forms of open dissent reflects his deep mistrust of dramatic social change.

[T]he term Philistine conveys a sense which [. . .] specially suits our middle class, who not only do not pursue sweetness and light, but who prefer to them that sort of machinery of business, chapels, [and] tea meetings [. . .] which make up that dismal and illiberal life on which I have so often touched.”

Arnold famously divides English society into three main groups in Culture and Anarchy. Here, he labels the British middle class the “Philistine[s].” Arnold criticizes the middle class for their obsession with industry and trade (“business”), their apathetic religious conservatism (“chapels”), and their unambitious leisure hours (“tea meetings”). In such a “dismal and illiberal” life, Arnold argues, there is no room for “pursu[ing] sweetness and light”—in other words, the members of the English middle class are too busy with their moneymaking and vapid social engagements to pursue the aims of true culture, leaving them morally and intellectually impoverished.

“[The Aristocratic Barbarian is seduced by] worldly splendour, security, power, and pleasure. These seducers are exterior goods, but they are goods, and he who is hindered from caring for light and ideas, is not so much doing what is perverse as what is natural.”

Arnold calls the British aristocracy, or upper classes, the “Barbarian[s].” Unlike the middle-class “Philistines,” the aristocratic Barbarians are not weighed down with matters of commerce and bourgeois respectability. Instead, Arnold presents them as an altogether grander class, surrounded by “worldly splendour, security, power, and pleasure,” which emphasizes both their enormous wealth and the exclusivity of their position relative to the rest of society. Arnold is kinder in his assessment of the Barbarians than he is of the Philistines, arguing that although the aristocrats may be too superficial and obsessed with “exterior goods,” the goods they value are nevertheless genuine benefits. While Arnold claims that it is only “natural” for them to be seduced by such “goods,” he will go on to argue that the lack of “light and ideas” in this lifestyle leaves the Barbarian aristocrats deficient in substance and soul.

“[T]hat vast portion [. . .] of the working-class which, raw and half-developed, has long lain half-hidden amidst its poverty and squalor, and is now issuing from its hiding-place to assert an Englishman’s heaven-born privilege of doing as he likes [ . . . ] to this vast residuum we may with great propriety give the name of Populace.”

Arnold’s third and final social grouping is made up of the “Populace”—his term for the working-class section of English society. Arnold regards this class as crude and ignorant, calling the working-class “raw and half-developed” due to their condition of “poverty and squalor.” While Arnold expresses sympathy elsewhere in Culture and Anarchy for the impoverished conditions of the working class, he tends to regard them with mistrust due to their growing political agitation for more rights and better political representation. Arnold characterizes working-class rebellion against the status quo as “assert[ing] an Englishman’s heaven-born privilege of doing what he likes,” which draws his disapproval due to his dislike of unchecked individualism (“doing what [one] likes”) and fear of social disorder.

“Natures with this bent [for pursuing “sweetness and light”] emerge in all classes—among the Barbarians, among the Philistines, among the Populace. And this bent always tends, as I have said, to take them out of their class, and to make their distinguishing characteristic not their Barbarism or their Philistinism, but their humanity.”

In this passage, Arnold asserts that it is possible for someone to be a follower of true culture regardless of which class they are born into. Since true culture has the power of transformation and elevation, those who discover and pursue it are “take[n] out of their class” through their instinctive pursuit of “sweetness and light.” In this sense, Arnold presents true culture as the only real means of equality, as it can enable any individual to perfect him/herself in spite of personal circumstances.

“[W]hile Hebraism seizes upon certain plain, capital intimations of the universal order, and rivets itself [ . . . ] with unequalled grandeur of earnestness and intensity on the study and observance of them, the bent of Hellenism is to follow, with flexible activity, the whole play of the universal order [. . .] The governing idea of Hellenism is spontaneity of consciousness; that of Hebraism, strictness of conscience.”

Arnold’s conceptions of “Hebraism” and “Hellenism” are another important facet of Culture and Anarchy. While Arnold believes that both tendencies can contribute something of value to human nature and society, the substance of their contributions are very different from one another. Hebraism is a moralizing tendency, inspiring “strictness of conscience” in mankind and encouraging obedience to “the universal order” as ordained by God. Hellenism, by contrast, is “spontaneity of consciousness,” encouraging curiosity, moral and intellectual flexibility, and creativity. As the names suggest, Arnold associates “Hebraism” with the traditional Judaic influence upon Christian culture, while “Hellenism” reflects the classical legacy of Greek and Roman civilization.

“Sweetness and light evidently have to do with the bent or side in humanity which we call Hellenic.”

While honoring the moral integrity and discipline of Hebraism, Arnold nevertheless argues that “sweetness and light” are usually the preserve of the Hellenic tendencies in mankind. Since Hellenism is centered upon “spontaneity of consciousness” and encourages the pursuit of beauty and reason, Arnold regards it as the driving force behind true culture. As a believer in culture, Arnold is, by extension, a believer in the worth and necessity of Hellenism.

[T]he ruling force is now [in England], and long has been, a Puritan force, the care for fire and strength, strictness of conscience, Hebraism, rather than the care for sweetness and light, spontaneity of consciousness, Hellenism.”

Arnold asserts that English society is more heavily influenced by the Hebraic tendency than the Hellenic one. Victorian England, with its obsession with “fire and strength,” has forgotten “sweetness and light;” Arnold believes that the Hellenic tendency has been neglected in the centuries since the Renaissance and that it is now essential that the Hellenic should regain ascendancy over the Hebraic. In turning once more to privileging “spontaneity of consciousness,” England will regain the path to true culture.

“Now does anyone, if he simply and naturally read his consciousness, discover that he has any rights at all? For my part, the deeper I go in my own consciousness, and the more simply I abandon myself to it, the more it seems to tell me that I have no rights at all, only duties.”

Arnold’s conception of culture in Culture and Anarchy is always a political conception as well. Since Arnold privileges tradition, establishments, and order above all else, he regards the “anarchic” impulses associated with freedom and radical challenges to the status quo with deep concern. Arnold’s suspicion of unchecked liberty and individualism extends toward the very idea of “rights,” with Arnold rejecting the idea that rights are somehow natural and innate to mankind. Arnold’s assertion that an individual has “only duties” instead of rights emphasizes the importance of obedience, harmony, and acceptance in his cultural and political thought.

“Everything teaches us how gradually nature would have all profound changes brought about, and we can even seem too, where the absolute abrupt stoppage of feudal habits has worked harm [ . . . ] For indeed this is just one of the advantages of sweetness and light over fire and strength, that sweetness and light make a feudal class quietly and gradually drop its own feudal habits because it sees them at variance with truth and reason.”

Just as, for Arnold, culture represents the supreme benefit to society, so does anarchy represent the supreme danger to it. Arnold rejects radical and rapid changes by instead arguing that “nature” wishes to have all “profound changes” take place “gradually,” thereby implying that any “abrupt” change is not only dangerous to the social order, but also unnatural. Significantly, Arnold’s example of feudalism does not present the erosion of feudal hierarchies and customs as an objective historical process with various factors; instead, he suggests that the “feudal class” itself will give up its privileges and “habits” once it recognizes that they are “at variance with truth and reason.” Arnold therefore suggests that the real way to achieve greater social justice and harmony is through the influence of culture, not via direct political agitation and disorder.

“For we know that the only perfect freedom is, as our religion says, a service; not a service to any stock maxim, but an elevation of our best self, and a harmonising in subordination to this, and to the idea of a perfected humanity, all the multitudinous, turbulent, and blind impulses of our ordinary selves.”

For Arnold, the tensions between an individual’s “ordinary” self and their “best self” represent the struggle between the unenlightened, individualistic self and the self that has been elevated and transformed through true culture. The “best self” is one that commits itself to “service” instead of desiring “freedom” as a means for autonomy, which carries echoes of Arnold’s assertion of “duties” over “rights” earlier in the text. The “best self” is also communal instead of individualistic, forming a part of “perfected humanity” in place of the more fragmented, isolated experience of the “ordinary” self.

[Even with such worthy causes as] the abolition of the slave trade […] monster processions in the streets and forcible irruptions into the parks, even in professed support of this good design, out to be unflinchingly forbidden and repressed.”

Arnold occasionally acknowledges in Culture and Anarchy that many injustices exist in Victorian England, such as when he criticizes the impoverished conditions in which the working class live. However, Arnold consistently argues that all political changes must be gradual and undertaken from the top down, with enlightened governments ushering in reforms in an orderly way. Arnold does not support mass popular action in any form: In this passage, he uses the example of “the abolition of the slave trade”—which Britain had achieved in 1833—as one of the “good design[s]” that can attract widespread support amongst the population. Arnold argues that even when a cause is worthy, it is no justification for direct political action such as “monster processions in the streets and forcible irruptions into the parks,” and that any mass protests or movements that do occur, regardless of the cause, should be “unflinchingly forbidden and repressed.” Arnold’s firmness on this point reinforces his conception of anarchy as the ultimate threat to society and true culture, leading him to present all forms of disorder as anarchic and, therefore, dangerous.