Due date Saturday March 21, 2015.Answers for each question sho.docx

Due date Saturday March 21, 2015.
Answers for each question should be at least 100 words.
1. Exam Questions:
Topic #3 – Economic Actors
1. Explain Myrdal’s concept of cumulative and circular
causation and compare and contrast it to Veblen’s concept of
cumulative causation.
2. Explain Robert Montgomery’s theory of how institutional
practices come about and come to be thought of and practiced
over time.
3. What is Montgomery’s theorized relationship between
technological change and cultural change and give (articulate)
an example outside of the Montgomery reading.
Reading:
1. Montgomery: Historical Fact
2. Myrdal: Institutional Economics
4. Exam Questions:
Topic #9 – Money
1. How does the standard story of the invention of money differ
from the Institutionalist/Post Keynesian theory?
2. What does the Institutionalist/Post Keynesian theory of
money says about the financial constraints on an economy to

provisioning for the elderly?
Reading:
Wray: An irreverent overview of the history of money from the
beginning of the beginning through to the present.
Question 1
a) The law that will be applied. . . .
b) The court will decide the effect of the the purported
acceptance in the following way: . . .
c) The additional terms . . .
Question 2
a) She was only joking:
The offeror would argue that . . .
b) She didn't know that an offer was being made:
c) She knew she was signing an offer but he didn't read all of
the terms:
d) She did not understand some of the terms and conditions:
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further
reproduction prohibited without permission.
An irreverent overview of the history of money from the
beginning of the begi...
L Randall Wray
Journal of Post Keynesian Economics; Summer 1999; 21, 4;
ABI/INFORM Global

pg. 679

This paper was given by Robert Montgomery at an unknown
place (probably San Marcos, Texas) and
unknown time. It is the source of several stories and parables.
For more information click Montgomery.
INTRODUCTION
Dr. Walter Prescott Webb, distinguished historian of the Texas
University was probably Jimmy Taylor's
closest professional, and personal, friend for his entire adult
life. Dr. Webb would often advise his
students: to "take a look down the long gunbarrell of History."
For our small adventure today, may I
suggest that we attempt a look down that much longer
gunbarrell, one that reaches to what we call Pre-
History.
In academic terminology this is Cultural Anthropology. It is the
Motherlode of all the Social Sciences.
History, Economics, Sociology, Government and all the others
are but veins radiating out from this
Great Treasure Trove. Cultural Anthropology embraces the
study of Man's community life in all its
infinite ramifications.
Modesty hardly permits the claim that I will here and now
hand you a magic kaleidoscope that will
show in all its incredible color, sub pattern, and splendor the
fantastic Cultural History of Man.
The Ancient Greek spoke of Lemma the magic key that would
open all doors to the seeker for
Knowledge and Truth and Beauty. Si Dios quiere, we might

discover Lemma; then you may write your
own History!
Obviously, for a job of even such modest dimensions, time
requires economy of language a prudent use
of words (most obnoxious to any properly trained pedagogue)!
To serve this purpose teachers or all
Ages and Cultures have resorted to parables. I shall follow that
venerable custom today.
THE NATURE OF HUMAN NATURE
All communication must begin somehow, somewhere. In this
communication I am suggesting
discussion that involves the basic nature of Man. It would seem
logical that we begin with his creation.
Every civilization Man has built has had its own story of
Creation. Their precise number is legion. The
more sophisticated legends have shown strange similarities;
enough to confuse and disturb skeptics of
Theocracy!
Suppose we take a swift look at one of the ancient and well
known legends, for our purpose here. This
one was contributed by the Ancient Greeks. According to their
Scriptures, Man was created on earth and
water, by Prometheus, one of a very few old Titans who had
escaped elimination in the War between
Titans and Gods.
Prometheus became very fond of his earthcreatures, and soon
began showering them with many
wonderful gifts. Among the first was knowledge of procreation;
followed closely by language so they
might communicate effectively with their fellows. Nextcame
Memory, for obvious reason. Next,

Mathematics: the ability to count, compute, accumulate, predict.
As necessary corollary to those listed
above, or as specific gift, Man has a sense of form, pattern,
design, order.
Page 1 of 19
The ultimate gift with which Prometheus endows his loved
Earthlings was Fire. According to earliest
Greek reports Prometheus lighted a torch at the Eternal Flame
on Mount Olympus, and handed it to
Man. That flaming firebrand we may properly characterize as
Science, by my translation.
For almost a thousand years these legends of Creation occupied
a focal point in Greek mythology,
literature, art, philosophy, culture. During the Golden Age of
Greek Civilization one of their greatest
Philosophers summed up this age old attempt to understand and
explain the essential Nature of Man, in
a simple dichotomy:
1. Man is a social animal;
2. Man is a toolusing animal.
This dichotomy serves my purposes quite well. It expresses the
basis for my own mundane purposes. I
shall accept lt. without reference to the Theocracy which was
originally responsible for lt.
Man Is A Social Animal
This deceptively simple statement concerning the basic nature
of Man has stood the test of over two

thousand years. During that vast parade of centuries great
scholars of the Western world have subjected
that concept to every critical test their ingenuity could invent. I
believe it has stood those tests without
refutation, modification, or even serious challenge.
Man is a social animal. He lives in communities. The few
reports of Men who have lived entirely
discrete lives are too vague, too scattered, too unreliable to
require refutation, or even consideration in a
serious study. A few hermits, a handful of skylights who are
reputed to have lived solitary lives surely
do not justify even this brief mention. Man is a social animal.
Community life is possible only if individual members know,
within narrow limits of tolerance, what
their neighbors will do in everyday situations. This is the sine
qua non of community life. It is the heart
of this presentation.
Every human community, even the most primitive, has an
incredibly complex system of customs, laws,
rules, procedures, usages, practices, habits, observances, rituals,
sanctions, taboos, codes, conventions,
precepts, obligations, rights, duties and beliefs. All of these the
modern social scientist includes under
the general term Institutions. They will be so characterized in
this paper.
The above list of community institutions is, of course, but a
small fraction of the category, as may easily
be proved by reference to a convenient thesaurus or dictionary.
A cursory study of the language of any
mode in civilized community will show precisely the same
situation.

Any philologist who has even the most rudimentary knowledge
of anthropology would understand the
implication of the paragraph above: it obviously means that here
has been man's deepest interest, for
longest time.
Further, not only do huge highly complex communities in our
modern societies have intricate culture
patterns, that is also true of more primitive peoples. Only those
cultural anthropologists who have had
the experience of living in diminutive primitive communities
can understand how complex the
deceptively simple life can be: when Thomas Gray writes of
"The short and simple annals of the poor"
Page 2 of 19
he is extending poetic license dangerously near the knits of
tolerance, my own favorite the Javari and the
Bushmen of Australia two of the most primitive tribes we know
both have intricate patterns of
community custom. And all have adequate sanctions to insure
observance!
Despite all the defenses men have been able to build into their
culture patterns, those patterns do change.
Sometimes changes come slowly, with small additions to the
cluster of usages, or small subtractions
therefrom. Often, particularly in our own time and place,
massive changes come with bewildering speed.
Obviously the basic purpose of this paper is to find satisfactory
explanation for the revolutionary
changes that we are experiencing today and with which must
learn to live. My own explanation, as the

most prescient sons of Prometheus would have known by now,
is based on that dual nature of
Earthlings, noted above!
Man Is A ToolUsing Animal
Man is not only a social animal; with universal and abiding
concern for maintaining the purity and
sanctity of his known and loved life pattern; he is also a
toolusing animal. He is forever interested in
improving the long knownand familiar tools and, further, either
by accident or design, always
A word of caution seems indicated at this point. As noted above
in re the assumed simplicity of
primitive culture patterns, one must be on guard in appraising
Man's primitive tools lest he make the
same logical error. True, we are living today in an age of such
revolutionary changes in sciencein the
tools we use, in the ways in which we employ that divine torch
Prometheus handed us as Man has not
heretofore known. More fantastic new tools have been devised
by Man in one generation, than in all his
days since he fought the fire apes for caves in the jungle a
hundred thousand generations ago!
From such contemplation however, we must not assume that
primitive Man was not interested in the
usefulness of his tools; nor, that he was not devilishly clever in
conceiving and designing and using
them. This warning is hardly necessary for one who lived by
primitive hand crafted tools during all his
formative years, and who was transported to college (this very
one!) in a stage coach. But for young
students who have only strange fanciful stories of that vanished
world (via television), who count their
beads by abacus and send their prayers direct by laser beam,

this word of caution would seem to be
justified. To any of you brilliant and bold young "Heirs of all
the Ages'' who may think my argument
dubious, may I suggest you take your best adding machine, your
electronic computer, a half a dozen
laser beams and an eccentric lathe with you, go into the woods
and make me a boomerang! Your
ancestors among the Australian Aborigines designed and made
superb ones back in the "Dreaming
Time of Earth"'
Enough of this dichotomy for the moment: we shall return to it
as our basic point of reference
throughout this discussion.
A FOOTNOTE TO HISTORY
At one point in a very long lifetime of Academic work in the
Social Sciences, "by Fate, or chance, (who
knoweth which)", I had a unique course in History.
The time: Just after the Maelstrom of World War I
The Professor: Dr. Carl Becker, of Cornell.
Page 3 of 19
The Class: thirtyodd students; selected from across the earth; all
candidates for Doctorates in
Social Science; all clearthinking, hardheaded, free wheeling,
youngsters; skillful at the roughandtumble
of intellectual infighting; most of us hard, embittered, skeptical,
warweary, old before our time; all
products of savage, senseless war.

We would not be seduced by traditional clinches; we would not
intone meaningless shibboleths; we
would not tolerate Academic nonsense; and we would not be put
upon!
Dr. Becker walked into the classroom; aligned himself behind
the protective academic lectern; looked
over the inevitable hornrimmed glasses; smiled a bit quizzically
at the middledistance, and announced
his course:
He would give four lectures, one each week for four weeks. The
course would be modestly titled
Historical Fact. The individual lectures would be styled What
when why and How is an Historical
Fact? There would doubtless be papers of some substance at the
end of the course.
"This first session," said Dr. Becker, "will be devoted to finding
a satisfactory answer to a simple
question: What is an Historical Fact?"
Again, Dr. Becker looked over his glasses in long, silent
contemplation. Then he reached into his
cavernous bag and extracted a sheaf of papers. He selected one
obviously an old, dogxoieared, wrinkled
editorial page from some ancient newspaper heavily bordered
in black. He carefully smoothed out the
accumulated creases, spread it on the lectern, and read:
"Mercure de Paris; July 15th, 1789" (with customary apologies
for an untrustworthy memory, here is a
reasonably accurate reading of that editorial.)
"Man has roamed the Earth for a very long time. Slowly, inch

by bitter inch, he has crawled up from that
primordial Jungle that was his birthplace.
"A hillside cave was his first home. A bit later he built himself
a primitive hut of treebranch and river
mud. On down the leisured centuries we may see him in a
teepee of buffalo skins . . . in a sturdy log
cabin . . . and a few uncounted millennia later, in a comfortable
even a lovely stone mansion.
"But wherever he lives, there always were neighbors. He met
them at kitchen midden . . . council rock . .
. town meeting. The tribe increased: it became a community.
Man is a social animal.
"But if the tribes of Man would live in communities, they must
have another and very different sort of
structure: a set of rules, a cluster of practices, a code of laws to
regulate the relations of man to man . . .
of tribe to tribe
"And so man set about building that other structure. From
kitchen midden to council rock . . . From
Iroquois longhouse to imperial parliament, Man built his
incredible structure of social order. At first he
built of simple materials: tribal rules, community habits, local
customs; later, his complex web of
business practices and commercial arrangements; ultimately,
formal national parliamentary statute and
court decision and international convention.
"For a dozen years now this magnificent, mighty and essential
structure has been under bitter attack.
Around the periphery of the civilized world the fires of
revolution burn furiously.

of 19
"Today the very heart of all Man's ageless culture Paris itself
lies under siege. If it falls, the Rule of
Law is dead; Man's communities will wither away, and Man
himself must go back to his primordial
cave. This is the curse the ancient prophets foretold . . , This is
the Twilight of the Gods.
Yesterday the stupid, savage, drunken mob from the sewers of
Paris, stormed our mightiest bastion of
ordered life . . . the very symbol of Man's long trek up from the
Jungle:
"The Bastille has fallen."
X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X
X X X
Dr. Becker laid his paper aside, looked at us in deep meditation,
for a long moment, wiped his horn-
rimmed glasses, reached into his bag and brought forth another
paper . . . an ancient, dogxoieared,
battered page from some old newspaper.
Again he intoned a datehead:
"Moniteur de Paris: July 15, 1789." and read:
"The Little People of the earth are rising. They have torn off
their shackles . . . they have broken their
chains.
"Look to the West: the New World is in flames.

"Look to the East: The Sleeping Giant of the Orient tosses
uneasily in his ageless slumber.
"For a hundred centuries and a thousand more behind those the
little People have crawled their weary
way, carrying their burdens, dragging their chains.
"They have cultivated the lands, tended the [locks; they have
stood their cruel turn at waterwheel, and
winepress, and threshing floor, that their Masters might never
hunger for bread, nor thirst for wine.
"They have built great palaces, mighty cities with strong walls
and impregnable fortresses.
"They have sturdily manned those walls, and bravely defended
those fortresses, that the Lords of Land
and Church and State might lie down in comfort, and arise in
peace.
Age in the timeless life of Man is gone Forever! No more will
the few live in fantastic luxury, while
the millions feed on hunger, and drink their own tears. That
world is dust on the floor of the unhurried
centuries.
Mankind has struck his tents: The Caravan of Man is on the
March:
The Bastile Has Fallen."
X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X
Dr. Becker carefully refolded the paper, dropped it with its

fellow into his bag . . . rose, smiled for a
Page 5 of 19
moment at a stunned and speechless class.
After a long while he said: "Gentlemen, which is the Historical
Fact?" Then he turned and quietly left
the room.
That was the Course. Fate decreed, for those were troubled
times, that the other three lectures were
never given.
X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X
After almost a halfcentury of mulling over that bit of eerie
pedagogy, it is still my firm opinion that no
student who sat in class that day was ever the same thereafter.
History had suddenly assumed new dimension. It became a
living thing . . . vital, meaningful, and
profoundly exciting.
At least one member of that class understood something that had
disturbed him for a long time. He loved
history . . . had read much . . . all that a busy boyhood, and
equally busy young manhood, permitted.
Now he understood for the first time why all his private history
books were marred by ugly question
marks, and such caustic, scrawled comments as, "I don't believe
it;!' and, "It didn't happen that way!"
Even Toynbee out of Gibbon by Herodotus had not escaped his
annoyed and arrogant protest.

Quite suddenly he saw a clear and obvious reason for his
skepticism: Each of the masters had described
great events that occurred "once upon a time." Each had
carefully pondered all data available on his
subject field . , . Each had searched diligently for new evidence
. . . Each had meticulously . . .
competence composed and recorded his own report.
But in reading this array of historical colored glasses! Those
glasses were colored by every preconceived
notion that the reporter had brought to his work. Further, those
preconceived firmly those irrelevant
cultural beliefs are potent agents in coloring the glasses through
which the scholar is attempting to view
and to assess valid or the activities of men of another age.
It those men of another age be far removed in time or distance
from the world of the research scholar, or
if they be remote in race or religion or cultural matrix, that
scholar should be forewarned that distance
itself tends to confuse all views, change all colors, distort all
vision.
Plato's most famous allegory relates that none of sees Reality
itself. We see shadows dancing across the
walls of our own caves, reflected from fires we ourselves have
built, Few ever venture beyond cave-
mouth and homefire to find Reality in the world outside.
If this occasion, this audience, this paper have purpose, it is that
we venture beyond cavemouth and fire.
One more bit of warning: Words themselves are potent agents in
coloring our glasses. For proof, take
one of our most familiar political words, "democracy," and run

it through Plato's Republic, St.
Augustine's Confessions, Karl Marx's Communist Manifesto,
and Thomas Jefferson's Bill of Rights.
Note, I am here suggesting difficulties implicit in using a very
simple word, in attempting to
communicate with four Banally learned scholars; but scholar"
who were separated by quite measurable
time and space.
Page 6 of 19
Now suppose we try that same semantic experiment, using that
same simple word, "Democracy," and
see how we might fare in a political argument as of this very
day in these four cities: Moscow, Peking,
Washington, and Selma, Alabama (Very well, it you insist: San
Marcos, Texas!) In this case we are
running our laboratory test in four cities of identical time: and
of culture patterns more nearly
comparable than are those of the cities of the past.
From this brief semantic demonstration, it seems obvious that
we should maintain a healthy skepticism
concerning verbal analyses of remote historical events, or
verbal solutions of cultural problems.
In the metaphor employed above, we should look well to the
glasses through which we attempt to see,
and subsequently attempt to report to our students and fellow
citizens, the running story of Man's
fantastically varied cultural developments.
Despite all I have said above about the difficulties of reading,

observing, understanding and ultimately
of writing Historical Fact within a reasonable tolerance of Truth
(acceptable to Dr. Becker) it is still my
opinion that it can be done. At least it is my firm opinion that a
modest beginning may be made in that
direction.
THE LEGEND OF CINCHONA
My life for more than a halfcentury has largely been devoted to
four activities: First, Academic work
teaching; second, a modest amount of reading (often critical)
from solemn, scholarly dissertations
concerning Man's cultural developments; third, observing such
developments in actual human
communities, from the most primitive to the considerably more
sophisticated; and fourth, trying, with as
much persistence as my nature permits, to understand man's
apparent timeless search for stable
community patterns. How can we make changes in community
customs and still maintain adequate
stability for continuity of community life? Further, why must
we make those changes in the first place?
Perhaps a small parable will help us in understanding this
riddle.
Around the turn of the 18th century the great Empires of North
Western Europe Spain, Britain, France,
Holland et al were pushing their empires, their cultures, their
controls, their way of life around the earth
primarily in a broad belt on either side of the Equator.
Troubles there were, of course. Many culture patterns of the
peoples of the region were ancient, deeply
entranced, strongly defended. Conflicting claims of the Imperial
Powers themselves were hotly pressed

at shadowy border lines around the Earth.
But the most serious obstacle to this Imperial expansion was the
terrible Jungle Fever malaria. The men
of North Western Europe might well have come from another
planet. The world they were coming into
was wet, hot, muggy. Their own world was temperate, to cold
and quite dry. Their people had long
forgotten the time they fought Neanderthaler and Cro Magnon,
along the edge of the Jungle, when their
world was warm and wet. They had lest (if they ever had
developed it) their immunity to malaria. They
died like flies on the Amazon, the Congo, the Ganges, and lower
Mississippi.
Near the end of the great adventure, which we call the Period of
Colonization, a shipmaster of France
returned to Paris, from an earth girdling voyage with a strange
story. According to the legend there was
a great tribe of Indians on the west coast of CentralSouth
Africa, right astride the Equator, who did not
have malarial Within the racial memories of native peoples,
they had never had it.
Page 7 of 19
Other shipmasters, trading along the 6,000 mile coastline of the
fabulous Inca Empire, brought back
supporting evidence: they, too, had heard the strange tale. It
became the best known story in all the ports
of France.
Finally, Just at century's end, the great French Academy of
Sciences selected three specialists in Jungle

Fever, and sent them to Peru to investigate the legend.
The Doctors quickly followed the trail of legend to Arequippa,
ancient capital city of the fabulous Inca
Empire. There they met the wise Men of Quichua, the High
Priests of Pachacamac.
On careful, persistent questioning, the High Priests readily
admitted the validity of the legend: Quichua
people did not have Jungle Fever.
When pressed hard, the wise Men revealed that their people
were protected by the Ritual of Cinchona.
With improvement in communication, and the High Priests
having been liberally plied with famous
French Liqueurs, those Priests revealed the great secret story of
Quichua . . . the Legend of Pachacamac.
Once upon a time, when Quichua lived in the Jungles of Earth's
mightiest river, Vira Cocha Chief of all
the Gods of Chimborazo who had made Heaven and Earth,
heard the desperate supplications of his
favorite people for relief from the terrible Jungle Fever. In
answer, He had sent his only begotten son,
Pachacamac, to be born of a virgin maiden of the Tribe of
Quichua.
Pachacamac had lived with Quichua for a long, long time during
the Dreaming Years of Earth. He had
taught his people the arts of peace, and the skills of war. At the
last he had gathered them all together
and led them over the roof of the world to Earth's edge at the
Western Sea. As they came out through the
last cruel mountain pass onto the fairest plateau man had ever
seen, He stuck his shepherd's crook into
ground and shouted "Arequippa:" which, being translated means

here we stay!
During the Great Migration He had taught his people many of
the sacred rituals of Chimborazo. One of
those He had called the Ritual of Cinchona; and he had insisted
it must never be lost or forgotten: it
would protect them and their children forever from the Jungle
Fever, regardless of where they lived.
"Ah, yes," said the skeptical, freethinking, Doctors from the
Age of Reason: "Tell us of that Ritual of
Cinchona."
Being properly pressed by legendary French Courtesy and the
even more legendary French liqueur the
Priests opened the most Sacred and most secret Book of
Pachacamac and read:
"Twice each year, the Tribes of Quichua shall gather in the
Holy City of Arequippa. Here they and their
wives and their children; their concubines, their maid servants
and man servants shall spend a halfmonth
in worship and meditation. They shall sing the songs of
Chimborazo; they shall chant their prayers and
count their beads. And, to show their dependence upon Vira
Cocha and their humility before
Pachacamac, for one halfmoon everyone shall chew that
horrible bitter bark of the Cinchona Tree."
The reply of the French Savants could be provided by the most
unimaginative member of this audience:
"Then of course," they said: "bring us some of that bitter bark
of the Cinchona Tree!"
The French doctors brought their precious cargo back to Paris;
ran it through the retorts of their

laboratories and precipitated out a bit of Quinine! And, so, the
curse of malaria was soon to be
conquered; and the tropics were opened to the men of Europe.
Page 8 of 19
Now, may I suggest that we apply the Touchstone of Dr.
Becker's definition of Historical Fact to this bit
of primitive reporting. It might read somewhat like this: Once
upon a time a very long time ago, some
wise old Medicine man of Quichua probably quite by accident
discovered that Cinchona bark provides
a specific for malaria. He tried it again, and again . . . became
convinced that it worked. To make the
unpleasant medication tolerable to the people of Quichua, he
made a common cause with an equally
wise Priest of the accepted religion. Between them they devised
a course of action which would serve
their purpose; and, at the same time, would be acceptable to
their people since it carried the sanction of
the Gods. This system of making cultural change acceptable to
the community was ancient before the
tally of Time began . . . and is not unknown today among some
of our more primitive communities.
(Let no one conclude, please, that I am here referring to the
Fluoridation of city water supplies, or
compulsory vaccination against communicable disease or
Medicare!)
LEGEND OF DATE PALMS
"Another parable, relating incidents a bit closer in time and
space than the Legend of Cinchona, may
help advance the argument.

Once upon a time the peoples of our own Tribes were suffering
from a grievous malady. Some years
before, there had been savage warfare between the Tribes.
Possibly as aftermath of that tragic affair, the
people were bitter, hungry, cold, unemployed, broken in spirit
and utterly confused.
In desperation they followed a custom not unknown even in
those primitive times: they threw out the
Republicans, and elected a Democratic Administration.
March 5th, 1885, the new Grand Sachem, one Grover Cleveland,
himself following longestablished
custom, called in chiefs of the many Tribes for counsel. Among
those present was Dale Bumstead of the
Tribe of Phoenix in the Territory of Arizona. He had been the
largest contributor of wampum to the
warchest, in the campaign of 1884.
When the nonetooorderly line had advanced to the point where
Bumstead stood before the Sachem,
Cleveland, asked the Formal Question, hallowed by custom
through all the years of the Great
Confederation: "Mr. Bumstead, what would you like?" Mr.
Bumstead answered, "I should like to be
Ambassador to Baghdad."
The Phoenix Tribe lived in a land not unlike Ancient Persia. A
lovely land it was, with beautiful fertile
valleys, and towering mountain chains for fence lines. Albeit, it
was a bit arid, and sometimes hot.
In Just such a land the peoples of Persia had developed mighty
nations and magnificent civilizations
before man began to count his years, Great cities still flourished
along the banks of the Tigris and the

Euphrates. Dale Bumstead wanted to learn how the Persians had
developed their land, so that he might
bring the secrets back to Arizona.
About the first of May, 1885, Dale Bumstead Sr., arrived in
Baghdad with his tenyearold son, Dale, Jr.
The lad was a handsome, vigorous, brilliant young extrovert,
vitally interested in desert agriculture. He,
too, would like to learn all that he could of the ageold farming
techniques used in Persia,
Very shortly, young Dale became a welcomed visitor in the
home of the most famous orchardists of the
Tigris Valley. The old sheik owned the finest date orchard in all
that Valley. During tour years he taught
young Bumstead many of the skills required in raising dates,
Page 9 of 19
But during those four years, the situation in the homeland of the
Bumsteads had changed. Workmen
now had Jobs; farmers were again prosperous; most people were
eating regularly; business was
booming; confidence had been restored. In that situation the
people, following a three thousand year old
custom of their cultural ancestors, began to yearn for the flesh
pots of Mammon. During March of 1889
a new American ambassador was appointed to the post in
Baghdad.
Before the Bumsteads left Baghdad, Dale, Jr. was invited for a
long farewell visit with his friend of the
date orchards. The old sheik asked him to select fifty of his
favorite date palms, that he might prepare

shoots from the parent trees for young Bumstead to take back to
Arizona with him. This was done; and
in due course Dale, Jr., and his precious cargo, arrived in
Phoenix.
The date palms were planted, watered, trimmed, fertilized, and
carefully tended with all the skill of a
budding young horticulturist, who employed the accumulated
lore of old Persia in his work. The trees
grew, pushed skyward, produced lovely shadepatterns across the
dun earth of the Salt River Valley xoi-
but no dates.
During the early nineties Dale Bumstead Jr. was enrolled in the
Agricultural College at Tempe. He
became a distinguished authority on desert farming; specialty,
horticulture. Subsequently, he became a
professor at his Alma Mater.
Years passed. The date palms became giants of their kind; high
as the pecan trees along riverbed and
irrigation ditch. But still, no dates.
At century's end, Dale Bumstead wrote his friend of the Tigris
date orchards, asking the proper
questions. After many weeks he had an answer: "My Son, have
you invoked the blessings of Allah on
your date orchard during the first month of spring, as I taught
you so long ago?"
In some irritation Dale Jr. again wrote his friend: "Look, are
you making sport of me? You are a
Muslim; I am an Episcopalian. You are no more devout in
respect to the ancient legends of your Faith,
than I am of mine."

In due course the wise sheik replied: "With deep sorrow, my
son, I must admit the truth of your
statement concerning the condition of my soul. However, my
instruction to you was not given in levity,
You invoke the blessings of Allah on your palm trees during the
first month of spring, or you do not
raise dates!"
Young Bumstead became involved in other ventures. His loved
Arizona Territory was pressing hard for
statehood. His date palms receded into the deeper shadows of
consciousness.
This was the spring of 1912. The nation was again deeply
troubled, as it had been in the days of the
elder Bumstead. People were confused, discouraged, depressed,
angry. Again they invoked the magic
potency of ancient ritual. A new Democratic Administration was
installed in Washington.
On March 5th, 1913, Woodrow Wilson, honored a tribal custom
which was now firmly entrenched by
more than a century of observance and ritual: He called in his
chief advisers for conference. Dale
Bumstead, Jr., was among them. He had been the largest
contributor to the Democratic campaign fund in
1912.
When President Wilson submitted the Formal Question to him
as his predecessor had to Dale's father in
1885, Dale gave precisely the same answer, "I should like to be
Ambassador to Baghdad."
Page 10 of 19

The new ambassador arrived in Baghdad near the end of March.
Shortly, he was in the home of his
friend of the date orchards, now in truth an Ancient of Days.
After customary formalities, the two
friends of a quarter century reached the matter of unfinished
business between them. At end of much
pleasant argument and many solemn words, the grizzled veteran
of almost a century of semidesert
horticulture said, "This is the end of the Fast of Ramadan. It is
also the first month of spring. Come with
me tomorrow to my date orchards and I will show you that of
which I wrote you so long ago."
And so, the next day, Dale Bumstead and his friend stood near
the corner of a lovely orchard on Tigris
River bank and watched a ritual that was ancient two millennia
before the Prophet was born.
They saw the Muezzin of Allah marching solemnly up and down
the long avenues of palms, singing
psalms, chanting prayers, fingering sacred icons from the
bazaars of Mecca and waving the white
waxen plumes from the male date palms.
"Why, of course," said the scientist of another world, "I should
have known!" And subsequently on
returning home, he crossfertilized his date palms every spring.
Before his death, Just recently, Dale
Bumstead's orchards had become famous, as were those of his
friend in Baghdad.
Small musings of a livelong student of man's cultural history: A
very long time ago, in dim, forgotten
days of prehistory, some extraordinarily observant man
discovered quite by accident that date palms, at

least the luscious varieties preferred by man, are not
hermaphroditic. He (or another) soon discovered
that it was possible to assist nature in the process of
crossxoifertilization. Thus one of man's most
delectable foods became available.
It the knowledge and the skill involved in the use of the new
technique were to be made acceptable to
members of the tribe, they must have proper sanction. This must
be provided. That early Einstein
appealed for aid to his friend, High Priest in the Temple of
Arboreal Pan. The rituals were designed. The
proper sanctions were provided. They served man well.
Although the peoples of Persia changed their
gods many times, the Ritual of the Blessing of the Palms
continues.
E = MC2
But
TC = CC
XXX XXX XXX XXX XXX XXX
In 1912 Professor Albert Einstein published his General Theory
of Relativity, in which he submitted
persuasive proof of the validity of his algebraic equation E =
MC2. Fifty years later there is all but
universal agreement that his equation represents the most
significant intellectual breakthrough in
recorded history.
When Professor Einstein first proposed his equation, about

1903, the fact that he was suggesting the
validity of equating or comparing two such notoriously
disparate things as energy and matter was
greeted with blank astonishment, disbelief, consternation even
horror by almost every community of
scholars. Such a concept was repugnant to all the basic
assumptions that rational man held dear.
Page 11 of 19
But thirtythree years of curious work in scores of scientific
laboratories and a small incident at
Hiroshima on August 5th, 1945 xoixoi convinced the skeptical
of the validity of Einstein's equation. The
most fantastic guess of all time the third of Professor Einstein's
incredible trilogy vas quite correct.
Rational man entered an intellectual and a practical Universe of
New Dimensions. This Universe of
novel, disturbing, even horribly frightening, dimensions is the
one man now occupies. He must live in it
for as long as he inhabits this planet.
Man is a guessing animal. It is impossible to imagine a time
before he developed the capacity to guess;
and equally impossible to conceive a day in the life of an
ordinary individual which does not require a
spate of guesses.
Man was created by Prometheus the "Forexoithinker"!
It may be persuasively argued that man learned to guess before
he learned to count to measure to make
computations even before he learned to talk. Further, he has
developed great facility in the art;

otherwise, how could we explain the fact that he is still here!
May I beg tolerance for a small footnote to
history, in order to take one hard look at a bit of incredible
guessing.
If one brief session with Professor Einstein over a quarter
century ago be deemed adequate for this
footnote, I should like to record for this group my impression of
the scientist's fabulous skill at guessing.
It must be understood that this report is based on a rather casual
twohour conversation; and further, that
it may suffer a bit from the tricks of an admittedly
untrustworthy memory. Within those protective
disclaimers, here is the story:
About the turn of this century Marie and Pierre Curie had
succeeded in precipitating out of pitchblende
uraninite a small bit of radium. That radium was radioactive. It
was in process of disintegrating, or
ceasing to exist as matter, and occurring as energy, And that
energy was in such vast quantities as no
previous experience had led us to expect.
At this point Professor Einstein made the first of his three
prescient guesses. He guessed that not only
radium and its close relative uranium could be transmuted (or
were in process of being transmuted) into
energy, but that the same might be true of all matter. In other
words, he guessed that energy and matter
could be equated in some way. Not in all our strange history has
a more sophisticated guess or a more
improbable one been made.
That suggestion (guess) to a mathematician carried the
necessary assumption that an algebraic equation
could be constructed which would equate the two heretofore

utterly discrete entities. Professor Einstein
believed his guess to be valid, and went to work on his
equation.
In his first attempt to create such an equation, Professor
Einstein probably stated it in this form, E= M;
meaning simply that somehow, in some sense, matter and
energy are the same thing.
This left two problems: first, he must discover what factor could
be put into his equation that would
make the two terms equal. Whether Professor Einstein, or
another of the brilliant scholars who were
working on the problem, made the correct guess he did not say.
At any rate, he gave me the logic by
which he Justified the guess that has become so familiar to us.
He insisted that we were searching for
some Absolute Truth; some entity that never changed. That was
a characteristic we had customarily
ascribed only to Deity!
There was one thing in our cognizant world which seemed to
have the necessary requirement. And so
Page 12 of 19
the factor C appears in his equation. The equation may now be
read E = MC; verbally, energy equals
mass multiplied by the speed of light.
In this case the guess was even more incredible than Professor
Einstein's first one. Why should the speed
of light have been selected when there were so many other
mathematical values, or magnitudes, that

might have been used? To the uninitiated, the whole matter was
a bit eerie. More, much more, was yet to
come. The whole procedure was beginning to assume weird,
extrarational, or possibly arational
characteristics.
During the first decade of this century every wellequipped
scientific laboratory, and their imaginative
scientists were running tests on radium, and subsequently on
uranium; measuring the loss in weight of
the substances, and gauging the amount of energy being
released.
It soon became obvious that the computation involved in the
crude E = MC equation allowed for only a
tiny fraction of the amount of energy actually resulting from the
experiments. Even the less accurate of
the techniques employed by the less sophisticated scientists
indicated that vastly more energy than
expected was being released. As one of our American scientists
has well expressed it: "Uneasy was the
sleep of those who made the computations."
At this point Professor Einstein made his third, and (to an
admitted neophyte in the world of modern
mathematics) his most inexplicable guess. He is reported to
have said "Why, of course! It is the square
of the speed of light! So now we may write the equation, so
familiar to every school boy: E MC2.
That left one question that disturbed me: one to which I would
still like the answer. I should like to
know why Professor Einstein said "of course." That one I
submitted to him, and for an answer had only
bristling white eyebrows, over amused, twinkling eyes. But he
did admit he had said it: "Of course" It is

the square of the speed of light." Why did he say "of course"?
There is nothing "of course" about it! He might have used twice
the speed of light or the cube of the
speed of light or any of a few million other magnitudes! But he
did say, "the square . . . "; and
consequently my own sleep has occasionally been "uneasy."
Why that "of course"? I find no answer. So will you permit me
to ask: was the most incredible guess
ever made by mortal man creation of the "Forexoithinker!"
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Now, in the heart of my discourse and the demonstration by
which I hope to establish at least a
reasonable presumption of validity for my own equation
With all the humility customarily expressed (sometime actually
felt!) by scholars of all academic fields,
and professional statures, may I beg your tolerance while I
make this small excursion through that
breech in the wall of logic so conveniently provided me by
Professor Einstein in 1912.
To be brief, here is a sophisticated guess which involves
equating two factors customarily considered
quite unrelated. With a small bit of Mathematical proficiency
provided by Alma Mater over fifty years
ago and some skill at observing the passing show, I propose to
equate technological innovation and
cultural activities.
The very year in which Dr. Becker's quaint pedagogical venture
provided the stimulus, and Professor

of 19
Walton Hale Hamilton and a few others at the Brookings
School provided solid bases for bold and
imaginative forays beyond the wellcharted borders of Social
Science, my first attempt was made. Quite
clearly expression of my theory should be cast in the familiar
format: Professor Einstein's equation was
now wellknown; careful experimentation had established its
validity; it was well designed to serve my
own needs. Consequently, the first formal statement of my
guess appeared in the familiar form of
algebraic equation.. Mathematical formulas provide such a
strong presumption of validity!
In Mathematical terminology my original equation read TC =
CC: Verbally, technological change
equals cultural change.
The Mathematicians, specifically Professor Brown of Alma
Mater, objected on grounds that I was using
one of their sacred symbols for profane purposes!
My next hopeful attempt involving the use of the symbol of
parallelism met the same fate. (TC // CC:
Cultural Change parallels technological Change).
At this point I presented my problem to a distinguished
Mathematician at the University of Texas,
Professor H. J. Ettlinger. Dr. Ettlinger said "The solution of
your problem of symbolism is quite simple.
Create your own symbol define it and use it. How do you think
our present symbols originated; by
Divine intervention or immaculate conception?" At the time

there was a slight suspicion that he might
have added, "Now isn't that the sort of problem one might
expect from a sophisticated Social Scientist?"
He did not. I did. I applied his formula;
Here is the resulting equation: TC#0*? CC You may verbalize it
(//) every technological innovation is paralleled by a cultural
change;
(=) of the same magnitude:
(O*) without any time lag, and
(?) in some item to item relationship at present unknown to this
writer.
Hereafter in this paper, I will present this equation in the
simpler form of TC = CC so conveniently
provided by Professor Einstein, but without involving him in its
validation!
As a first crude approximation, my proposition may be stated in
deceptively simple terms: when any
new and novel technology appears within a community which
has for a relatively long time lived under
a wellknown and generally accepted culture pattern, stresses
and strains will immediately develop. If use
of the new technique requires serious change in some long
established community custom, or practice,
or belief, or set of arrangements will be proportionate
difficulties in establishing acceptance and use of
the technique. This results in confusion, divided opinion, group
bitterness and ultimately cultural
change.

All human communities have faced cultural changes, often
small changes, occasionally cataclysmic
changes. Here we are trying to isolate one single actor present
in such changes which could be
tentatively charged as the real culprit a basic cause of
community conflict and of cultural change.
If such a actor exists, it should help us in understanding, and
explaining to our students, the apparent
random nature of cultural change. If found, it could properly be
characterized as the Historical
Page 14 of 19
Imperative.
A True Believer in the Theocracy of the Ancient Greeks could
provide us a simple answer: it is one of
those gifts man received from Prometheus; or it is a [actor
necessarily implicit in one of those gifts.
Certainly one of those godgiven faculties memory would seem
to be a logical suspect. Men remember:
consequently, they have always preferred the known and
accustomed to the new and novel. But such an
extrarational explanation would be unacceptable to the young
skeptics of our New Age of Reason! We
must look elsewhere for Primal Cause.
Parenthetically: Please let me enter a disclaimer at this point in
order to avoid later confusion and
controversy: there is no implied claim that there is one single
cause of all Man's community conflicts
regarding cultural changes. But I am contending that we may
now isolate one factor which, if present in

any society, will inevitably lead to community conflict and
consequent cultural change. That [actor is
technological innovation.
Further, it is my contention that the magnitude of conflict and
its accompanying institutional change is
proportional to the scope of the technological factor involved.
Briefly, community acceptance of a
mayor innovation to its accustomed tools, machines, ways of
doing things, will always be accompanied
by mayor cultural changes. It the technological change be small,
the accompanying cultural changes will
be minor. But if the technological change be massive, the
cultural changes will be revolutionary!
Still one more assumption may be read into my algebraic
equation: the outcome of any community
change caused by technological innovation is implicit in the
nature of that new technological innovation:
Therefore, the outcome is predictable.
THE PARABLE OF THE ANCIENTAND
HONOURABLE ORDER OF
FLINTWORKERS
Why do men so desperately hold to the community customs of
yesterday when all history shows; that
customs ultimately fade away? What is the nature of the fatal
virus that infects all human communities?
There is a folk tale of an ancient Jungle community that may
help us understand our riddle. According to
this legend, a long, long time ago there was a community in
MotherJungle which our anthropologists
call the Kingdom of Moo. There lived a homogeneous people

with a Just code of laws, pleasant social
customs, and virtuous business practices.
Further, the cultural Borders of Moo were strong and well
defended. By order of the Great God Chubu,
each man stood to his place on those borders and no one
yearned for the fleshpots of the rich
neighboring Kingdom of Lem.
One night a young man of Moo built a fire against a claybank.
The next morning in the ashes of his fire
he found a stone wonderful beyond description. We call it
bronze, When warm it was soft and could be
molded and shaped and sharpened into implements such as no
man had ever imagined. When cooled
those implements quite magically became hard and tough.
Page 15 of 19
The young man made him a bronze skinning knife and brought
it back to the Great Council of the
Kingdom of Moo. He said, "See what I have done. With this we
can shatter the borders of Lem. We can
conquer the whole Jungle. We can produce our food and
clothing and shelter with onetenth the number
of wives it has required heretofore.
Today we might assume this being a part of the curios code of
our clan that the young man became a
great hero, and was given a ribbon which no one else in all Moo
might wear. We are quite wrong. You
see, there was in Moo a club, known as the Ancient and
Honorable Order of Flintworkers. Its members
owned all the good flint beds. Only they knew the ancient craft

of clipping flint to spear point, arrow
head, and skinning knife.
Further, they were the important people in Moo. One was
president of the First National Bank, one was
secretary of the Chamber of Commerce, another was Grand
Mogul of the Moovian Rotary Club,
another, Business Agent of the International Brotherhood of
Flintchippers, still another was High Priest
in the Temple of Chubu, one was Patriarch of the Moovian
Association of College Professors, and three
were on the Board of Regents of the University of Moo. They
did not like newfangled devices!
So the Unmoovian Activities Committee seized the young
fellow, used the bronze skinning knife on
him, and threw him into the sacred volcano to appease the wrath
of Chubu. The ancient script records
that the great Court characterized that bronze knife as a
Subversive Influence. How right they were!
They should have thrown it into the volcano with its inventor.
From here back to the Jungle, if anthropologists have correctly
read the story in the ashes of our camp
fires, man has built his communities. Within those communities
he has created legal codes, his social
customs, his business practices; and he has devised his own
methods of enforcing them. Further, he has
always and everywhere erected his community borders: borders
of race and religion, of social custom
and business procedures, of language and concept and culture
pattern, as well as his more mundane
geographic borders. Always and everywhere he has defended
those borders with his life, his fortune, and
his sacred honor.

Man's defense of his borders, his universal struggle to maintain
the purity and integrity and sanctity of
his own particular community culture pattern, is quite
understandable. Only so is community life
tolerable. Only so 1B community life possible.
We must be able to predict with considerable accuracy what, in
any given situation, our neighbors will
do. Without that, community life would not be possible. Chaos
would be our universal lot. Chaos will
inevitably smash any border will destroy any community. Order
is the first law of Community life.
Even our fractional communities, within the borders of the
larger society, follow the universal pattern.
Each must perforce establish and maintain its own internal
order. The athletic team, the symphonic
orchestra, church, lodge and luncheon club develop their codes
of conduct establish their borders and
maintain them by observance, ritual, and force of arms.
Yet, despite all our care and ingenuity and firm intent, the
borders of our communities crumble.
Since men first began to record their common experiences, so
that other men might know and follow an
easier path, philosophers have puzzled over this colossal
enigma. Why has it always been impossible for
men to maintain their cultural borders? That riddle was hoary
with age when the Sphinx was a sketch on
the drawing board of some forgotten Egyptian architect. Why
can't we maintain our beloved folkways?
Is there then, no solution [or man's oldest community problem?
Page 16 of 19

Borders do crumble. Some of our sages say, "That is as the
Gods have willed lt." Others say, "Borders
are destroyed by the brutal force of invading armies." Still
others hold that Blind Chance rules the
Universe, while Luck, his illbegotten son also blind governs
the Earth. He doesn't like Borders.
When the world was younger, morepleasant, and more malleable
in short, when I was a student at Alma
Mater and first became aware of a new and exciting study called
Economics, a book was put in my hand
that was styled "An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the
Wealth of Nations." The author assured us
that if we traded freely with the neighboring tribes, all our
communities would be richer thereby; and the
borders would be pleasant hedgerows, and no longer be matters
of vital concern. But still we are
concerned. The cultural borders remain. Still they do change!
Yet, in their changing we have found no pattern, no orderly
form, no recognizable design. They change
slowly, or swiftly, unexpectedly, tragically, in random fashion,
without reason. Our riddle would seem
to have no solution.
We have looked to the stars for answer. He have gazed into
crystal balls. We have read tea leaves. We
have searched the deepest caves, the highest mountain tops, In
Analect, Talmud, and Popol Vuh in
Bible, Koran and The Golden Way of Life we have thought to
uncover the answer to man's oldest
Problem.
The answer is here of the earth earthy. Man is a social animal

xoitrue. He builds his communities;
formulates his folkways; creates his conceptual borders.
Man is also a toolusing animal. Early in his story, man floats
across a river on a log. Somewhat later
give or take a half million years xoihe hollows out that log and
has his canoe. Another cycle, and he puts
oarlocks on it; then hoists a sail, and we may see him cautiously
skirting the shores of small lakes then
the seas.
Now we are in recorded history, and can read our spoors with
some confidence. A few millennia later
Man invents a keel and a compass. Now he can take to the
oceansea. A halfdozen centuries later he puts
a steam engine in the thing yesterday he put wings on it, and
rose into the open and limitless sea above.
Today he can outfly the sun . . . Tomorrow, he reaches for the
stars!
What of all his so carefully designed communities . . . his so
ingenuously designed, and stoutly defended
conceptual borders?
From the Jungle man came, with social order in one hand, and a
stone hammer in the other Here is the
eternal conflict The ultimate contradiction. When the stone
hammer became a bronze skinning knife,
the borders of the Jungle kingdom could no longer hold the
restless inventor . . . No border has eve: been
built that will stand against a radio wave, or a gamma ray!
Consider a moment: One of the most impregnable and most
nearly universal of all conceptual borders if
recorded history be credible is incorporated in that maze of
custom and ritual and fixed status by which

the members of the community are formed into hierarchy of
class, sort, kind. One such is known in India
as Untouchability. It is older than measured time.
Now if the tales we've been told were true, that border should
have crumbled to dust many long ages
ago. Every prophet from Gautama Buddha to Mahatma Gandhi
has marched around those walls, has
blown his trumpets, and chanted his prayers. Every warrior from
Macedonian Alexander to British
Waveil has broken a spear against those timeless towers. For
almost one thousand years the Sons of the
Page 17 of 19
Prophet strove manfully to breach that wall. With Koran, chant,
and cutlass, they laid siege to every
bastion and battlement.
If borders could be breached by violence or cajolery or magic or
persuasion or song or dance or creed or
cult, Untouchability would have vanished long ago.
But it did not vanish. In fact, as of the day before yesterday, a
local engineer, with all the subtle
equations of cultural anthropology and experimental
psychology, with all the intricate instruments of
quantum mechanics could not have discerned a measurable
crack in that incredible structure.
Today it is gone. With all the borders from Moo to my own
Menard, it is gone from the culture of Man.
Nothing will ever restore it.

What esoteric magic cleansed that ancient curse from the soul
of Man? Do you say, a Constitutional
provision of The British Empire in 1940? Or a law enacted by
the Parliament of India in 1948?
Nonsense. That $s not the way things happen in the world of
Historical Fact.
Here is true story of historyinthemaking in India. During the
1930's, the Tatas built a textile mill, the
largest in the Empire. The workers are counted in thousands.
One fourth of them are Untouchables. The
Foreman is a high caste Brahman. If an Untouchable steps on
that Braham's shadow, the Hindu is
defiled. Just one simple question remains, how is that
eversodevout Hindu foreman to protect his
shadow under Klieg lights?
Either that shadow will fade away or the mill cannot be run.
When the Jungle kingdom of Moo accepted
the bronze skinning knife, the Ancient and Honorable Order of
Flintxoiworkers was replaced by the
Beaters of Bronze. They seized control of the Great Council of
Moo, created a new order, reorganized
the bank and the lodge and the luncheon club, rebuilt the new
community Borders, and depended them
stoutly until they in turn met the irresistible logic of iron!
But the implied choice left to man, in the first sentence of the
paragraph above, is moot. For very long
time priest and prophet, poet and philosopher, politician and
professor have mulled over the eternal
question: can man deliberately repudiate his new gadgets in
order to maintain his loved folkways?
Our anthropologists tell us man has been here about two million
years. IP this be true, for all of those

two million years we have been trying to answer our question in
the affirmative.
We want to maintain our venerable community customs. We
have learned tote live with them. Within
the familiar pattern we can predict, with tolerable accuracy,
what our neighbors will do. Consequently
we have tried, with all the ingenuity skill and persistence we
can muster, to maintain those customs
intact.
Almost every member of our communities joins in that effort.
Not merely the crafty and greedy
members of the Ancient and Honorable Order of Flintworkers,
but also those who conceivably might
profit by acceptance of the new. We are afraid of the new. We
prefer the old, the traditional, the
venerable. So every community has tried to repudiate the new
gadget in order to maintain the familiar
ways.
That solution has been tried by tiny primitive tribe9, and by
giant world empires. It has been tried by all
the Principalities and Powers; by Church and State; by the wise,
and the foolish; rich and poor. With
every device the limitless ingenuity of man can provide we have
tried . . . For two million years we
Page 18 of 19
have tried.
It cannot be done. Man cannot repudiate his toolusing Nature, in
order to maintain his social order.

There is no balm in Gilead!
Unless we accept the Attic Poet's solution: when Prometheus
breaks his chains and resumes direction of
Man's affairs; when there is no more conflict in the soul of
Man; when Love rules the world . . . Then we
may find solution to all our dilemmas.
Until this denouement so strongly urged by the orthodox, we
would be well advised, whenever a new
gadget appears, to brace ourselves for change in our community
customs,
Page 19 of 19
INTRODUCTIONTHE NATURE OF HUMAN NATUREMan Is
A Social AnimalMan Is A Tool Using AnimalA FOOTNOTE TO
HISTORYTHE LEGEND OF CINCHONALEGEND OF DATE
PALMSTHE PARABLE OF THE ANCIENT AND
HONOURABLE ORDER OF FLINTWORKERS

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