A Thinking Reed

Category: Liberalism

  • Milton and Christian liberty

    Theo Hobson argues that John Milton was a great (and underrated) theorist of a distinctly Christian liberalism. He was a strong proponent of a secular state, but also of a Protestant ethos throughout society:

    So was he an early “secular liberal”? Not in the dominant contemporary sense, which assumes that politics should be post-religious. He thought it should be post-ecclesial, but that liberal Protestant Christianity was the necessary foundation of a free society. This must be the national ideology, but it must not be identified with any religious institution. In effect, he was inventing the American approach to church-state relations.

    Hobson apparently has a book just out on the subject that looks like it would be worth checking out.

  • Pragmatism and ideology

    In light of all the “Obama the pragmatist” talk, Chris Hayes offers a few words for ideology:

    But privileging pragmatism over ideology, while perhaps understandable in the wake of the Bush years, misses the point. For one thing, as Glenn Greenwald has astutely pointed out on his blog, while ideology can lead decision-makers to ignore facts, it is also what sets the limiting conditions for any pragmatic calculation of interests. “Presumably, there are instances where a proposed war might be very pragmatically beneficial in promoting our national self-interest,” Greenwald wrote, “but is still something that we ought not to do. Why? Because as a matter of principle–of ideology–we believe that it is not just to do it, no matter how many benefits we might reap, no matter how much it might advance our ‘national self-interest.’”

    Indeed, in the wake of the 9/11 attacks, “pragmatists” of all stripes–Alan Dershowitz, Richard Posner–lined up to offer tips and strategies on how best to implement a practical and effective torture regime; but ideologues said no torture, no exceptions. Same goes for the Iraq War, which many “pragmatic” lawmakers–Hillary Clinton, Arlen Specter–voted for and which ideologues across the political spectrum, from Ron Paul to Bernie Sanders, opposed. Of course, by any reckoning, the war didn’t work. That is, it failed to be a practical, nonideological improvement to the nation’s security. This, despite the fact that so many willed themselves to believe that the benefits would clearly outweigh the costs. Principle is often pragmatism’s guardian. Particularly at times of crisis, when a polity succumbs to collective madness or delusion, it is only the obstinate ideologues who refuse to go along. Expediency may be a virtue in virtuous times, but it’s a vice in vicious ones.

    There’s another problem with the fetishization of the pragmatic, which is the brute fact that, at some level, ideology is inescapable. Obama may have told Steve Kroft that he’s solely interested in “what works,” but what constitutes “working” is not self-evident and, indeed, is impossible to detach from some worldview and set of principles. Alan Greenspan, of all people, made this point deftly while testifying before Henry Waxman’s House Oversight Committee. Waxman asked Greenspan, “Do you feel that your ideology pushed you to make decisions that you wish you had not made?” To which Greenspan responded, “Well, remember that what an ideology is, is a conceptual framework with the way people deal with reality. Everyone has one. You have to–to exist, you need an ideology. The question is whether it is accurate or not.”

    Chris goes on to suggest that Obama may be a pragmatist in a more salutary and philosophical sense: that of 20th century American pragmatism as represented by thinkers like John Dewey.

    I might use slightly different terminology, but I think the critique of “vulgar” pragmatism is right on the money here. Deciding “what works” requires establishing, first off, what it is you’re trying to accomplish. And this is always a matter of ends, or, in other words, what you value. Being “pragmatic” in this sense is choosing the most efficient means to your chosen ends, but the ends themselves have to be arrived at on some other ground than pragmatism.

    Beyond that, though, there’s the question of what constraints–if any–there ought to be on the means we choose to pursue our ends. For instance, just war theory is both about ends (the goods to be pursued by duly constituted civil authority) and the permissible means (e.g., restrictions on what may permissibly be done during war, such as targeting civilians). Ideology, in the non-pejorative sense, can simply refer to the articulation of our fundamental commitments, both to the goods we seek and the means that are permissible in pursuing them. Ideology in the bad sense makes people unwilling or unable to re-think their presuppositions in the light of new evidence, but recognizing this pitfall doesn’t eliminate the need for bedrock value commitments.

  • Mill, liberal perfectionism, and religion

    As a tangential follow-up to this post, the online Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy has a petty exhaustive discussion of J.S. Mill’s moral and political philosophy here.

    Specifically, here’s a discussion of the relationship between Mill’s utilitarianism and his liberalism; here’s a comparison between Mill’s liberalism and other variants, such as Rawls’s.

    The emphasis here on on Mill’s “moral perfectionism” and how it relates to his liberalism is striking. Mill thought the point of human life was to develop those capacities for rational thought and moral autonomy–capacities essential to human nature. But unlike classical “perfectionist” theories of morality, Mill thought that a liberal society was necessary to foster human flourishing, because no one can exercise those capacities for us.

    Mill’s perfectionist liberalism is part of classical liberal tradition that grounds liberal essentials in a conception of the good that prizes the exercise of a person’s rational capacities. In Mill’s version, the good consists in forms of self-government that exercise the very deliberative capacities that make one a moral agent. He concludes that the state cannot foster this kind of good by regular use of paternalistic or moralistic intervention. Liberties of thought and action are central to the exercise of these deliberative powers. But equally essential are certain positive conditions, such as health, education, a decent minimum standard of living, and fair opportunities for self-realization. Even paternalistic intervention can sometimes be justified when, without it, people’s deliberative powers will be severely compromised. If liberal essentials can be justified by the right sort of perfectionist account of the good, then the perfectionist need not be illiberal. And this sort of classical perfectionism explains ways in which many liberals do think that the state can and should help its citizens lead better lives. In these ways, Millian liberalism articulates a tradition of classical liberalism that has enduring significance.

    What makes Mill’s perfectionism liberal is that these are precisely the sort of capacaties that no one else, particularly the state, can exercise for us. The state can, however, provide certain goods (a guaranteed decent standard of living, education, other public goods) that are necessary conditions for exercising these capacities.This is an interesting contrast to Rawlsian liberalism, in which the liberal state is supposed to be neutral between competing conceptions of the good.

    One thing that interests me about all this is whether it opens the possibility of rapprochement between a Millian liberalism and a religious perspective. Many religious views identify the good of human life as developing and exercising capacities–capacities for knowledge and love, of God, neighbor, and creation. And like the capacities whose exercise Mill identifies as necessary for human flourishing, the development and exercise of these capacities can’t be coerced. No one can make me love God and neighbor, and no one can do it for me. The exercise of these capacities can, however, be facilitated by the provision of certain essential goods and freedoms–freedom of worship and conscience, for instance, as well as the other sorts of goods Mill identifies.

    Keith Ward seems to identify with such a “religious liberalism”; in his book Religion and Human Fulfillment where he advocates what he calls “transcendental personalism”:

    [H]umanism or personalism–the belief that the realization of distinctive personal capacities is the highest moral ideal–is a moral advance on views of morality as obedience to allegedly authoritative rule that need have no relevance to human fulfillment. But humanism is not intrinsically anti-religious. It developed from a Judeo-Christian stress on the value of every human life as made in the image of a God of freedom, creative power, and self-giving goodness. It posits a moral goal for human life, and so it remains strongly suggestive of an objective moral purpose in the universe, and of a being (presumably intelligent and good) who could conceive such a purpose. (p. 6)

    Later, in discussing various interpretations of Jewish law, Ward writes:

    [O]bedience to the laws of justice is rooted in love of the creator who desires that all creatures should find fulfillment, who gives every human being a unique value and unique potentialities to realize, who helps those who seek such realization, and who will ultimately bring creation to fulfillment and final liberation from all that impedes fulfillment–that is, from evil. There is implicit here an ideal of justice, but it is not one that is in conflict with a humane secular ideal. It is rooted in the belief that all individuals are of worth, and that human society should enable all to realize something of that worth in their lives. (p. 180)

    I think it’s pretty clear here that, like Mill, Ward would agree that “moralistic or paternalistic” intervention is not generally conducive to enabling people to realize worth in their lives but, similarly, that there is much the state can do to foster that realization by providing certain essential goods. This might be a more fruitful religious justification for liberalism than the usual quasi-Rawlsian state neutrality arguments. Worth thinking more about.

  • Mill, animals, and liberalism

    Gaius asks whether a liberal who traces her intellectual lineage to J.S. Mill–i.e. who sees the purpose of politics as permitting the widest possible scope for human liberty consistent with the liberty of others–can consistently be in favor of laws for preventing cruelty to animals or protecting the environment:

    how [did] liberals, historically, either politically allied themselves with or actually became, some of them, animal welfare advocates, animal rights advocates, conservationists, protectors of endangered species, environmentalists, or nature preservationists, all of whom lend weight to some value or other, different from individual liberty, against human liberty[?]

    Historically, I think the answer to Gaius’s question is pretty clear: Mill, and his mentor Jeremy Bentham, were in fact advocates for reform in the treatment of animals. It was largely liberals like Bentham and Mill who brought concern for animal well-being into the mainstream of moral philosophy as well as into the political arena.

    Bentham and Mill were utilitarians and justified the arguments on behalf of animals on the grounds that, what counts morally is maximizing pleasure and minimizing pain. Bentham famously said that what matters morally with respect to animals is not whether they can speak or think, but whether they can suffer. Sentient beings are morally considerable because it matters, from their point of view, what happens to them. And while I’m not as familiar with Mill’s thought in this area, it appears, at least from this excerpt, that he followed Bentham in this.

    Philosophically, the different branches of the animal rights tradition can be traced to the utilitarianism of Bentham and Mill and to the liberal individualism of Kant (as well as the liberal aspect of Mill’s thought; whether there’s a tension between Mill’s liberalism and his utilitarianism is an interesting question). Peter Singer is the most prominent representative of the utilitarian strain, while Tom Regan represents a Kantian approach.

    These two traditions employ somewhat different principles, which sometimes lead to different conclusions. For instance, Singer’s utilitarianism emphasizes the equal consideration of interests, meaning that animal suffering has to be treated the same, morally speaking, as relevantly similar human suffering. However, Singer’s view also allows for killing animals (or disabled humans) if it can be done painlessly while retaining the same amount of overall utility. Regan’s more Kantian position is that animals, as “subjects-of-a-life,” possess basic rights to life, freedom, and well-being and must be treated as ends in themselves. Both positions contend that “speciesism” is an invidious distinction akin to racism or sexism.

    Essentially, the animal rights advocate argues that liberal principles–such as equal consideration of interests, rights to life and liberty–ought, logically, to be applied to animals (or at least certain animals). This is usually because it is held that there’s no good reason for drawing the line of moral standing at the species boundary. Thus the animal rights position can properly be thought of as an extension of liberalism rather than a repudiation of it.*
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    *The case of the environment may seem trickier, but it might be argued that a liberal could support environmental protections insofar as they are necessary to avoid harm to sentient beings–human or non-human. Liberals and animal rights advocates would, however, disagree with so-called deep ecologists who locate moral value primarily in ecosystems rather than individual sentient creatures.

  • Prospects for conservatives, “left” and otherwise

    Russell Arben Fox has a thoughtful meditation on the prospects for his brand of “left conservatism” in a bluer America. Hard to believe that we were talking about a permanent Republican majority four years ago. All the more reason to be wary of overconfident (or dire, depending on your view) pronouncements about the triumph of liberalism. In politics there are no permanent victories; I fully expect a conservative resurgence at some point (though hopefully only after it’s had sufficient time to sit in the corner and think about what it’s done). In that vein, John has some thoughts on conservatism’s future that are worth checking out.

  • Wanted: Augustinian liberals

    Jason Byassee reviews two promising-sounding books that try to reappropriate Augustine for a political theology that steers between Niebuhrian realism and Hauerwasian sectarianism. Sounds good to me.

  • How I (sort of) joined the vast left-wing conspiracy: confessions of a pessimistic liberal

    In the wake of talk of a new conservative-libertarian fusionism on the right, these remarks from political theorist Jacob T. Levy make for interesting reading. I used to consider myself a libertarian, and even voted Republican in the late 90s and early oughts, but was soon driven away from the GOP for reasons to familiar to re-hash. (Hint: it rhymes with Schmorge Schmush.) Since then I have definitely moved to the Left on a number of issues (primarily economic and environmental), but still retain some vestigial libertarian tendencies (a Millian anti-paternalism still looms large in my political make-up). Moreover, though, I feel no sense of identification with the contemporary American Right (especially the newly-“Palinized” right), however much I admire some of the writing and thinking going on among the smart, young “reformist” conservative set clustered around publications like Culture 11 and the American Scene. For better or worse, I am now–de facto at least–on the Left.

    And yet–I’m not completely comfortable with progressive cultural or social positions. (I’m pro-gay marriage, for example, but opposed to embryonic stem cell research, in addition to being a squish on abortion.) And, though it’s often overstated by conservatives, there is a strain of anti-religious hostility among liberals and a drive to enshrine a completely secular worldview. Meanwhile, my small-l liberalism is rooted in a more conservative (philosophically speaking) and religious worldview that emphasizes both the dignity and the fallenness of human beings. So I can’t work up quite the same zeal for marching into the brave new future that some “progressives” seem able to muster. (This sensibility also makes me uncomfortable with the earnestness and certitude of parts of the religious Left; possibly it’s just a character flaw on my part.)

    Indeed, I sometimes toy with calling myself an “anti-progressive” liberal, though I suspect that would breed too much confusion. More apt, perhaps, would be “pessimistic liberal.” I think liberal (“negative”) freedom is necessary for a tolerable society, but also leads to bad consequences. And I think government action is necessary–more necessary than libertarians will admit–to ameliorate those consequences (like vast inequalities or environmental destruction). But I don’t think we’ll ever reach a progressive promised land (or return to a conservative golden age); at best, we’ll muddle through, hopefully making incremental improvements to our lot and that of our neighbors.

    This is all, of course, subject to revision. 😉

  • The new new new fusionism?

    I remember those days of–what?–three years ago when the “new fusionism” was supposed to be an alliance of pro-lifers and foreign policy hawks. And then there was “liberaltarianism.” Now it’s an alliance between “neo-Benedictines” and “libertarians.” The idea is that folks who want to live in Alasdair MacIntyre-style local communities heavy on religious identity and traditional morality can make common cause with libertarians to get the state off their backs and allow them to set up communities that reflect their values.

    As Rod “Crunchy Con” Dreher says:

    the Benedict Option is looking to be the only viable solution to a truly conservative/traditionalist social order. If that can only exist in America within a libertarian meta-order, then perhaps we should explore the possibilities of a new fusionism.

    Philosophy geeks may be reminded of the “utopia” section of libertarian philosopher Robert Nozick’s Anarchy, State, and Utopia. Nozick argued that a libertarian political order could allow for just these types of experiments in community life and that utopia just was the possibility of multiple such experiments coexisting side-by-side.

    The trick, though, with the idea of “thick” communities enjoying autonomy from the dread liberal state is that it’s not clear how you balance communities’ desires for self-determination with the individual rights that good liberals think the state should protect. It may be unfair that advocates of federalism and states’ rights have been tarred with the brush of white supremacy, but the ugly historical reality is that community autonomy has all-too-often been used to oppress individuals and minorities.

    Of course, a true traditionalist might argue that individuals are properly subordinate to the community and that liberal individualism is a decadent system that makes true virtue impossible and undermines communal bonds. And such a person might argue that individual and minority interests must sometimes be sacrificed for the good of the whole.

    Personally, as I’ve argued before, I think we ought to be more circumspect about our ability to clearly perceive the good and that the fragility of human selves ought to make us wary of demanding political communities that embody a “thick” conception of the good. And I believe this for theological reasons: we are finite, sinful creatures prone to running roughshod over the weak. One of the justifications of the liberal state, as I understand it, is to protect the weak from the certainties of the strong. I don’t want to pretend that this is an easy or obvious balancing act, but I’m not prepared to endorse the “night-watchman” state as a recipe for social peace.

    p.s.     Be sure to check out John Schwenkler’s take.

  • Invasion of the left-wing body snatchers

    I largely agree with John’s take on the whole Obama-as-closet-radical idea being pushed by the (increasingly desperate) McCain campaign and its media fellow travelers. (Be sure to follow the links he provides too.) I have plenty of lefty friends, and they certainly don’t think Obama is a radical lefty. On everything from health care to taxes to foreign policy he’s staked out positions well to the right of hard-core lefties/progressives.

    Of course, no matter how conservative the Democrat may seem, the GOP always tries to convince voters that he or she is “really” a wild-eyed liberal who, once in power, will turn America into a cross between Cuba, France, and the Harvard faculty lounge. Bill Clinton, easily the most conservative Democratic president since Grover Cleveland, received this treatment in spades. (Consider this Clinton/Gore campaign ad from 1992. Clinton promised in the ad to 1. cut welfare 2. be “tough” on crime 3. balance the budget–in other words, he would govern like a Republican. And, despite conservative hysteria about a pot-smoking draft dodger in the White House, that’s pretty much exactly what he did.)

    If anything, my worry about Obama is that he’ll be too pragmatic, too prone to compromise, and too beholden to the Washington bipartisan consensus on a host of matters. Unlike John, though, I still think he’s worth supporting because he’s head and shoulders above the competition and could turn out to be an affirmatively good president. (Recognizing, of course, that John and I have different–though overlapping–criteria for what that would look like.)

  • John Stuart Mill – right about everything

    Mill believed in complete equality between the sexes, not just women’s colleges and, someday, female suffrage but absolute parity; he believed in equal process for all, the end of slavery, votes for the working classes, and the right to birth control (he was arrested at seventeen for helping poor people obtain contraception), and in the common intelligence of all the races of mankind. He led the fight for due process for detainees accused of terrorism; argued for teaching Arabic, in order not to alienate potential native radicals; and opposed adulterating Anglo-American liberalism with too much systematic French theory—all this along with an intelligent acceptance of the free market as an engine of prosperity and a desire to see its excesses and inequalities curbed. He was right about nearly everything, even when contemplating what was wrong: open-minded and magnanimous to a fault, he saw through Thomas Carlyle’s reactionary politics to his genius, and his essay on Coleridge, a leading conservative of the previous generation, is a model appreciation of a writer whose views are all wrong but whose writing is still wonderful. Mill was an enemy of religious bigotry and superstition, and a friend of toleration and free thought, without overdoing either. (No one has ever been more eloquent about the ethical virtues of Jesus of Nazareth.)

    All of which makes trouble for a biographer. Every time we turn a corner, there is Mill, smiling just a touch too complacently at having got there first.

    Read the rest of this very interesting article here.

    Obviously, I don’t think Mill was right about everything–I think Millian liberalism needs to be tempered with a bit of Burkean skepticism about radical change and Niebuhrian pessimism about human nature. But he was certainly right about a lot, and he informs many of the presuppositions of Right and Left to this day.

    See also this piece from a while back.