[Paleopsych] Hedgehog: John Gray: Two Liberalisms of Fear

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John Gray: Two Liberalisms of Fear
http://etext.virginia.edu/etcbin/ot2www-hh?specfile=/texts/english/modeng/journals/hh.o2w&act=text&offset=753928&textreg=1&id=GraLibe2-1

[Gray is always worth reading. I know of no other think who has 
reconsidered and changed his mind as much as he has, always unpredictably, 
which is what rethinking will do.]

          The root of liberal thinking is not in the love of freedom, nor
    in the hope of progress, but in fear--the fear of other human beings
    and of the injuries they do one another in wars and civil wars. A
    liberal project that seeks to diminish the fear that humans evoke in
    one another is open and provisional in its judgments as to the
    institutions that best moderate the irremovable risk of social and
    political violence. It does not imagine that any one regime is the
    only legitimate form of rule for all humankind, and it does not assess
    political regimes by the degree to which they conform to any doctrine
    of universal human rights or theory of justice. It rejects the
    view--which in the United States is treated as an axiom of political
    discourse--that democratic institutions are the only basis for
    legitimate government. It views democracy as only one among a range of
    legitimate regimes in the late modern world and does not subscribe to
    the Enlightenment hope--revived recently by Francis Fukuyama--that
    peoples everywhere will converge on democracy as a political ideal.

          The original and best exemplar of this liberalism of fear is
    Thomas Hobbes. In Hobbes, the principal obstacle to human well being
    is war. Wars arising between practitioners of different religions are
    to be feared the most. They are the most destructive of the human

          John Gray is School Professor of European Thought in the
    European Institute at the London School of Economics. Among his
    publications are Endgames: Questions in Late Modern Political Thought;
    After Social Democracy; and False Dawn: The Delusions of Global
    Capitalism.

          good and generate a war of all against all in which no sovereign
    power exists to keep the peace.

          Writing in a time of religious civil wars, Hobbes was clear
    that, aside from the human passion of vainglory or pride, the chief
    impediment to a modus vivendi was the claim to truth in matters of
    faith. On no account should the sovereign make or act upon any such
    claim. The sovereign does not hold to any worldview but seeks to craft
    terms of peaceful coexistence among the divergent worldviews that
    society harbors. Here the liberal project is not a plan for universal
    progress, but a search for peace. In this liberalism of fear, the
    institutions of the state are not what is most terrifying. What is
    most to be feared is the condition of anarchy in which human life is
    ruled by the summum malum--death at the hands of one's fellows. A
    liberal state is one that aims to deliver its subjects from this evil.
    Today, there will be many who deny that such a project could embody
    liberal thought in any of its many varieties. Yet a reasonable
    argument can be made that this liberalism of fear is, in fact,
    liberalism in its most primordial form.

          Such a liberalism of fear may seem to late moderns unambitious
    and timid, lacking in noble hopes for the species. For that very
    reason, it is the liberalism that speaks most cogently and urgently to
    us, that addresses the needs of a time whose ruling project is
    peaceful coexistence among diverse and potentially antagonistic
    communities and regimes. This Hobbesian liberalism of fear is
    inherently tolerant of diversity in polities and communities, because
    of its indifference to private belief. The authority of a Hobbesian
    state does not derive from its embodying any doctrine or creed, but
    only from its efficacy in promoting peace. In early modern times, this
    meant ruling without partisan regard to the religious beliefs of
    subjects. A Hobbesian state is not bound to attempt to disestablish or
    to privatize religious practice.

          In a late modern context, the Hobbesian indifference to private
    belief has an application to ideological commitments. In our
    historical context, a Hobbesian state does not make allegiance to
    political authority conditional on subscription to any creed. A
    peace-making state can hope to command the allegiance of the religious
    and the irreligious, those who share Enlightenment hopes and those who
    do not. It can be accepted as legitimate by communities and cultural
    traditions that are not, and will never be, "liberal." The original
    liberalism of fear does not aim to subject the late modern world to
    democratic institutions. It recognizes a democratic regime as one
    among many devices, potential and actual, for containing and
    moderating conflict, but it denies that democracy has any universal
    authority.

          Hobbes's liberalism of fear can be contrasted sharply with a
    second fearful liberalism--the anti-statist liberalism, grounded in
    theories of universal human rights or justice, which is the ruling
    orthodoxy of contemporary political philosophy. Nearly all liberal
    theory today is a program for limiting the state. Yet, in the
    conditions of late modern societies, anti-statist liberalism is bound
    to issue in a significant enhancement of the state's most purely
    repressive functions--without, however, significantly enhancing the
    security of the citizenry. Conversely, regimes that aim for peace and
    are not burdened by an agenda of anti-statism may be better able to
    assure their subjects security without enhancing the state's
    repressive role. The demonization of the state may have been
    unavoidable during the totalitarian period that spanned much of this
    century. As we near the century's end, it has become unreasonable.

          This second liberalism of fear--the liberalism of Rawls,
    Dworkin, Nozick, Hayek, and many others--which is a liberalism of fear
    of the state, does not serve our needs in a time in which the state is
    a desperately fragile and often inefficacious institution. The state
    must be rehabilitated as an instrument of individual well being and
    the common good. We must not look to the institutions of the state for
    universal rights, strong communities, or moral regeneration. To do so
    risks some of the worst evils of the age. Neither should we regard it
    with such suspicion that we strive to limit it by foolish doctrines of
    minimum government. We must rehabilitate the state as a protective
    institution. This rehabilitation, Hobbesian liberalism, duly amended,
    may be able to achieve.

Hobbesian Liberalism vs. Liberal Imperialism

          Hobbes's liberalism of fear rejects, as anachronistic and
    indefensible, the Enlightenment philosophy in which we are the telos
    of history. Perceiving the dilemmas of modernity from a standpoint
    near the beginning of the modern age as acutely as Weber and Nietzsche
    did towards its end, Hobbes remains an instructive critic of the
    conception of progress with which liberal thought came later to be
    identified. Hobbes's thought shares with that of other early modern,
    proto-Enlightenment thinkers, such as Spinoza, an underestimation of
    the cultural variability of human motives; lacks altogether the
    insight of Herder that individual well being requires participation in
    strong communities; and shares with later Enlightenment thinkers, such
    as Hume, the illusion that civilized human beings have everywhere the
    same values.

          Even so, unlike later liberal theory, Hobbes's thought is not
    committed, essentially and inescapably, to the "hubristic" and
    dangerous project of deploying the power of the state to promote a
    universal civilization. It sees the institutions of the state as
    indispensable--variable and alterable instruments for the achievement
    of security against the chief evils of human life. In this Hobbesian
    account, the state is not the embodiment of a civil religion or a
    philosophy of history, nor the vehicle of a project of
    world-transformation, nor a means of recovering a lost cultural unity,
    but rather an artifice whose purpose is peace.

          Hobbesian liberalism rejects the other liberalism of fear--the
    dominant liberalism of our time, which responds to evidence of deep
    cultural differences in the relations of liberal democracies with
    nonliberal regimes and a fundamentalist reassertion of "Western
    values" and which understands the state as a vehicle for the defense
    of these threatened values. At present, liberal political philosophy
    in all its standard varieties is fundamentalist in style and
    apologetic in strategy. Its goal is a transcendental deduction of
    western institutions as the only legitimate form of government.

          The political consensus, which conventional liberal political
    philosophy articulates, asserts the universal authority of liberal
    human rights, individualist ethical life, and (more often than not)
    free market capitalism. In the context of international relations, it
    is a late blossoming species of liberal imperialism. It is a triumphal
    reassertion of the western project at just the historical moment when
    non-Occidental peoples are demonstrating that westernization and
    modernization are not one and the same, but different and sometimes
    conflicting paths of development. In domestic political practice in
    the United States, this other liberalism of fear is a project of
    return--an attempt to recover "traditional values," forms of family
    life, of law, and of national sovereignty that belong to early rather
    than late modernity.

          If the Hobbesian liberalism of fear can reasonably claim a
    universal root in the generic human evil of civil war, this latter-day
    liberalism of fear is evidently an historically highly specific
    phenomenon. Its aggressive affirmation of universality ties and dates
    it irrevocably to the loss of American ideological identity that has
    followed the Soviet collapse.

          The fearful reality that the dominant contemporary liberalism
    screens from the perceptions of western societies is the polycentric
    diversity of the post-totalitarian world. In the late modern world all
    western ideologies are of declining global significance, and western
    institutions no longer function as the cutting edge of modernity.
    Indeed, for parts of the world--the societies of East Asia, for
    example--further westernization could mean a retreat from late
    modernity. The perception that this other liberalism of fear is meant
    to occlude is a perception of western decline.

          If, in international relations, this other liberalism of fear is
    a reaction against the passing of western global hegemony, in domestic
    political life, it is an attempt to recover a national culture that
    has irretrievably vanished. That is the significance of the cultural
    preoccupation with relativism. The neoconservative discourse of
    "relativism" is not used to conduct a debate in moral philosophy.
    "Relativism" signifies views of which neoconservatives disapprove in a
    dispute about American identity. This is a debate that has arisen with
    multiculturalism and the erosion of popular confidence in American
    exceptionalism. It is a local affair. The discourse of relativism is
    not a moment in the history of philosophy. It is an episode in the
    dissolution of American global hegemony.

          The centrality and power in contemporary American political
    discourse and practice of this other liberalism of fear is a perilous
    dominance. No universalist political project can do without enemies.
    In an incorrigibly plural world, they are soon found. The imagined
    threat to "the West" emanating from Soviet Communism--itself
    pre-eminently an artifact of western Enlightenment ideology--has been
    swiftly supplanted, in the writings of Samuel Huntington and
    elsewhere, by a discourse of "civilizational conflict." Now, if it
    means anything, "civilizational conflict" means that cultural
    differences of themselves occasion war. Yet this is a dangerously
    unhistorical claim.

          In the longer perspective of history, "multiculturalism" does
    not denote one moment in a local debate about American identity; it
    signifies the normal condition of humankind. Most polities of which
    there is historical record, and all empires, have been
    "multicultural," and the destruction of multicultural human
    settlements in our century--such as the destruction of the city of
    Alexandria by Nasserist nationalism--has typically been the work of
    decidedly modernist nation-building movements. Huntington's polemic
    against multiculturalism in the United States is not a contribution to
    historical inquiry or to political theory, but rather a move in a
    campaign to recover an early modern culture of nationhood that is
    foredoomed by the conditions of late modernity.

          In this climate of debate, it is unsurprising that longer
    historical perspectives are foreshortened and distorted. The diverse
    cultural traditions of Confucianism, Islam, and Christianity--which
    until quite recently had coexisted for long periods in the Ottoman
    Empire, the Hapsburg Empire, and the British Raj--are perceived as
    inherently rivalrous. The very existence of cultures that have not
    embraced westernization is perceived as a danger to peace,
    particularly if--like the present regime in mainland China--these
    cultures reject the universal authority of liberal rights. The
    existing reality in some East Asian contexts (such as Singapore,
    Malaysia, and Japan) of societies that have modernized without
    westernizing, that have matched or surpassed western levels of
    prosperity without importing an individualist culture of capitalism,
    and that have assured low levels of crime-related insecurity for their
    citizens without adopting a western culture of rights is
    comprehensively denied.

          The most feared and repressed possibility is that these
    achievements were possible only because such countries have rejected
    or limited westernization. For if this possibility were allowed, the
    Enlightenment philosophy of history and the civil religion of American
    exceptionalism--in which the creation of wealth depends on
    institutions that embody a culture of individualism, progress, and
    rights--would be falsified. In domestic contexts, this other
    liberalism of fear is expressed in the poisonous politics of "family
    values," in the atavistic legalist reduction of all policy issues to
    questions in the arbitration of (supposedly) Lockean rights, and in
    the recuperation of an early modern understanding of national
    sovereignty. This liberalism supports "welfare reform," whose effect
    is social exclusion, and penal policies in which mass incarceration is
    adopted as a central institution of social control.

          This other liberalism of fear cannot yield a modus vivendi of
    any kind in the late modern societies in which it has arisen. It is,
    on the contrary, an ideological rationale for social division and
    cultural warfare. The history of the abortion issue in the United
    States may be a marker for a future in which a legalist culture of
    unconditional rights becomes an arena of political conflict where
    compromise--and therefore politics, considered as an abatement of
    war--is impossible. Indeed, in its combustible fusion of a legalist
    culture of nonnegotiable rights with a repressive culture of mass
    incarceration and radically exclusionary social policies, the new
    liberalism of fear is a recipe for low-intensity civil war.

Hobbes's Abstract Individualism and Anti-Political Liberalism

          In our historical context, the Hobbesian liberalism of fear has
    many decisive advantages over the conventional liberal philosophies of
    the late modern period. Yet it cannot be adopted unamended. I will in
    the last section of this paper comment on the respects in which
    Hobbes's thought requires most radical revision. Here I note, first,
    that Hobbes's thought belongs to the early modern period in its
    abstract individualism and its proto-Enlightenment project of deriving
    political obligation from a rational choice of individual advantage.
    No doubt it is immeasurably closer to political realities than most
    subsequent liberalisms, but its individualist philosophical
    anthropology is ill suited to thinking about how communities and
    cultures can coexist in peace. As the author of one of the great
    neglected twentieth-century classics of political thought, Crowds and
    Power, has observed in a different work:

      Hobbes explains everything through selfishness, and while knowing
      the crowd (he often mentions it) he really has nothing to say about
      it. My task, however, is to show how complex selfishness is: to
      show how what it controls does not belong to it, comes from other
      areas of human nature, the ones to which Hobbes is blind.[3]^1

          Second, Hobbes's thought has in common with the dominant
    Rawlsian liberalism of our time the illusion that the principal
    impediment to peace is the rivalrous diversity of individual purposes.
    The banal Rawlsian pluralism of individual life-plans, each expressing
    a specific conception of the good, lacks the stark realism of Hobbes's
    insistence on the insatiability of human desires, but these very
    different liberalisms share in common a neglect of rivalrous cultural
    identities as a cause of social conflict and--in the worst case--war.
    Rawls is right in seeing the liberal problematic as the search for
    peaceful coexistence that issued from the Wars of Religion and the
    Reformation, but he is mistaken in supposing that, in late modern
    conditions, peace can be pursued by relegating worldviews, conceptions
    of the good, and cultural identities to the sphere of voluntary
    association. Liberal institutions in which divisive commitments are
    privatized are successful as devices for promoting peace only when the
    background moral culture of society is already individualist. Where it
    is not--as in most of the world--the search for terms of peace leads
    not to liberal civil society, but to various kinds of pluralist
    institutions.

          Third, Hobbes's seeming hope that a form of rule can be
    constructed in which politics has been marginalized links him with
    that tradition of legalist utopianism that has had so paralyzing an
    effect on liberal thought in our own time. Commonly, Hobbes is
    criticized for his illiberal unconcern with the limits of state power,
    and his apparent approval of tyranny, and it is true that we who know,
    as he could not, the evils that go with totalitarian states cannot
    rest content with his account of the sovereign's powers. What is wrong
    with Hobbesian thought is not, however, its neglect of constitutional
    limitations on governments, but its attempt to render political life
    redundant--a project it shares with today's anti-political
    liberalisms. In our conditions, peace cannot be the construction of a
    sovereign, if indeed any such thing still exists in late modern
    contexts; it must be an artifact of political activity. This is not to
    say that a modus vivendi can be achieved in the late modern world only
    through democratic institutions. It means that in societies that
    already possess a highly developed tradition of political activity,
    peace cannot be secured by trying to suppress politics.

          In arguing that Hobbes's thought has an application to the
    conditions of late modernity, I am not meaning to pass over those
    aspects of Hobbesian liberalism that belong with a superseded
    Enlightenment project. Hobbes's Cartesian understanding of political
    reasoning, the unyielding universalism and individualism of his
    philosophical outlook, together with his conception of political
    obligation as arising from a calculus of rational advantage, all tie
    his thought irrevocably to the Enlightenment project and cannot speak
    to us today. The aspect that does speak to us--that must inform the
    attempt to articulate a postliberal pluralism--aims to identify
    universal and generically human evils and understands political life
    as an enterprise of moderating and mitigating these evils. This aspect
    of Hobbes's thought is far removed from the unrestricted cultural
    relativism (such as Richard Rorty's) that animates most attempts at
    formulating a postmodern liberalism.

Prospects for a Postliberal, Postmodern Pluralism

          Thinking about the future roles of the two liberalisms of fear
    begins with the recognition that there is no single trajectory of
    modernity on which diverse societies stand at earlier and later
    points. Our world contains pre-modern, early modern, late modern, and
    postmodern states.[4]^2 In much of post-imperial Africa, in parts of
    postcommunist Russia, and perhaps in some areas of China, there is
    nothing that resembles the institutions of a modern state. Economic
    and social life goes on, but in a context of near-anarchy where the
    protective functions of the state are lacking or are exercised by
    local military production centers.

          The disappearance in many parts of the world of effective state
    institutions of any kind is one of the most important but least
    considered developments of the past decade. It represents an
    acceleration in the declining leverage of the modern state that has
    led prominent theorists of strategy to argue that along with the
    decline of the modern sovereign state, which was inaugurated with the
    treaty of Westphalia in 1648, we are now witnessing the disappearance
    of Clausewitzian war.[5]^3 Considered as military conflict conducted
    between agents of sovereign states, Clausewitzian war appears to have
    been largely supplanted by intractable low-intensity conflicts in
    which the principal actors are not states and their agents, but
    political organizations, clans, and ethnic groups. Clausewitzian war
    has not disappeared, as the Falklands War and the Gulf War testify,
    but the ability of states or associations of states to direct
    organized violence has declined dramatically in many parts of the
    world. The control of war, taken in modern times to be the central
    constitutive power of sovereign states, has slipped from states'
    grasp.

          Where this has happened, the result has been the emergence of
    something not far from a Hobbesian state of nature. At the same time,
    late modern societies are imbued by post-military cultures. It is hard
    to mobilize democratic publics in support of any interventionist
    policy that threatens to be risky, costly, and protracted. In these
    circumstances, the anarchic, pre-modern conditions of some
    post-communist countries may persist indefinitely. Alternatively,
    these countries may attempt to reinvent their imperial traditions--an
    option particularly attractive in Russia, which has never been a
    modern nation-state. There is no reason to think that states in such
    circumstances will be forced towards modernity in their political
    institutions.

          The first signs of postmodern political institutions are most
    clearly observable in Europe. The institutions of the European Union
    are not the institutions of a modern state writ large. The EU is not,
    and will not become, a modern federal state. It is an association of
    nation states that have embarked on a common project of shedding much
    of the sovereignty that distinguished the modern, "Westphalian" state.
    This project embodies the wager that nineteenth-century
    balance-of-power relations between the Union's nation-states can be
    rendered redundant in the context of the EU's common institutions.

          The wager this project entails is on the possibility of enduring
    and stable political institutions that do not presuppose a common
    political culture and are not legitimated by a unifying ideology. This
    is the postmodern dimension of the European project. It is the attempt
    to found political institutions whose cultural identities are not
    singular, comprehensive, or exclusive (after the fashion of
    nineteenth-century nationalism and twentieth-century
    weltanschauung-states), but complex, plural, and overlapping.

          This is not the project of privatizing cultural identity in the
    realm of voluntary association that is advanced in the standard
    liberalisms of today. That project, in practice, can only entrench the
    dominant cultural identity of a generation or more ago. This project
    instead attempts to enable plural identities to find collective
    expression in overlapping political institutions. The institutions of
    the European Union constitute the single most convincing exemplar thus
    far of the postmodern project of founding political legitimacy not on
    a common national culture or on any universalist ideology, but on a
    common acceptance of cultural difference. In East Asia, the
    fascinating experiment that is underway in Singapore may amount to an
    exercise in postmodern state-building and the conditions of
    postmodernity may have been present for generations in Japan. There
    may be a future for postmodernity in East Asia by virtue of the fact
    that some of its diverse cultures have modernized very successfully
    without thereby accepting any Enlightenment ideology.

          It is in this historical context that an amended Hobbesian
    liberalism of fear may be salient. The animating interest of European
    institutions, as they have developed over the past 30 years or so, is
    an interest in peaceful coexistence without loss of cultural
    diversity. This points to the first radical revision that is needed in
    the Hobbesian view--namely, an acknowledgment of the political
    relevance of the human need for strong and deep forms of common life.
    Hobbes's thought needs to be fertilized with the insights of Herder.
    The abridgment of Hobbesian individualism that this entails is plainly
    considerable and necessitates consideration of how participation in
    common cultural forms can find political expression.

          The second large revision to the Hobbesian account is to provide
    for the permanent necessities of politics. Unlike later anti-political
    liberals, Hobbes never supposed that the institution of law could
    secure the conditions of peace. Such an unreasonable optimism about
    law was alien to the spirit of his thought and foreign to his
    experience of the fragility of legal orders. Yet, aside from his
    insistence on the necessity of unfettered judgment by the sovereign,
    there is little in Hobbes's thought that acknowledges the role of
    political practice in negotiating the terms of peace--a lack that
    derives from its debts to an early modern rationalist project of
    conferring Cartesian certainty on thinking about politics. Hobbes's
    thought must be modified to accommodate Machiavelli's perception that
    politics is an ineradicable activity in common life.

          This postmodern Hobbesian view does not hold that a condition of
    postmodernity is the fate of all societies. That is only the illusive
    Enlightenment idea of a universal history refracted through a late
    modern prism, a kind of Enlightenment fideism. It may well be that
    only a few societies will ever enter a postmodern condition, and that,
    even for them, it may not be irreversible. We need to learn to think
    of a world, integrated by innumerable economic and technological
    linkages, which nevertheless contains societies, cultures, and
    polities that are set on radically divergent developmental paths.

          The alteration in thinking that goes with such a postmodern
    perspective is substantial and requires adopting an instrumental,
    rather than doctrinal, view of state and market institutions. At the
    same time, it means accepting that the institutions that best serve
    human needs will vary quite radically over time and in differing
    cultural contexts. This is partly because the role served by social
    institutions is never entirely instrumental; it is also always
    expressive. The cultural forms that economic and political
    institutions express are changeable, diverse, and complicated; and the
    development of social or political institutions does not conform to
    any universal laws. Much in the application of this Hobbesian view
    will depend on highly contingent circumstances. In our present
    historical context, however, the postmodern view I have sketched will
    tend to undermine the vast claims made on behalf of the social
    institutions of law and the market and to focus on the indispensable
    place of the state and of the practice of politics among the
    conditions of a peaceful modus vivendi.[6]^4

Postmodern Politics: Searching for a Modus Vivendi

          An amended Hobbesian liberalism repudiates the Enlightenment
    expectation that the world's peoples and cultures will converge in a
    universal civilization and accepts cultural difference to be a
    permanent feature of the human condition. It conceives political life
    as the search, never completed, for a modus vivendi in which the human
    goods of cultural diversity can be harvested, while the unavoidable
    evils arising from the conflict of evils are tempered and moderated.
    Among the diverse and changeable forms that such a modus vivendi can
    take, democratic institutions are only one; they have no special
    privileges of the sort conferred on them in recent versions of the
    Enlightenment project.

          The dominant fearful liberalism of today is part of the problem,
    not the solution. By making the legitimacy of political institutions
    dependent on ephemeral and contested ideologies--hubristic theories of
    rights and discredited Enlightenment expectations of a universal
    civilization--it works to exclude all those who do not subscribe to an
    early modern worldview in which these beliefs were central. For the
    majority of humankind today, such beliefs are not credible. Like all
    western secular faiths, they have a declining leverage on human
    allegiance throughout the world. The coming century may be no better,
    or even worse, than the one that is ending, but it will be profoundly
    different in that its central conflicts will not be family arguments
    amongst western political faiths.

          For the United States, there is no alternative to liberal
    democracy. Its traditions and present circumstances do not allow the
    luxury, or tragedy, of radical political experiment. It would be alien
    to the spirit of the present argument to engage in prescription. But
    there are clear implications of the argument I have developed: the
    legalist cult of unconditional rights must be moderated; the suspicion
    of the state, and of politics, with which the current liberalism of
    fear is imbued is intemperate; and the evangelical faith in the free
    market as the only acceptable mode of economic organization is a
    danger both to domestic social peace and to international order.
    America's present public philosophy and policies need some large
    revisions.

          The present argument suggests that more weight must be given to
    political practice, less to the arbitration of rights; more emphasis
    given to collective choices, and less to free markets. The faith that
    law can supplant the murky compromises of politics, that societies
    that lack a moral consensus can cohere through the practice of rights,
    that the legitimacy of a democratic state must depend on its embodying
    universal principles--these beliefs are poor guides to the world in
    which Americans, along with the rest of humankind, must henceforth
    live. Clearing away the debris of today's fearful liberalism may
    contribute modestly to the large changes in public philosophy and
    public policy that will be unavoidable in the United States in the
    coming years.
    ________________________

    [7]^1 Elias Canetti, The Human Province (London: Picador, 1986) 115-6.
    ] [8]^2 On this point, see Robert Cooper, The Post-Modern State and
    the World Order (London: Demos, 1996). ] [9]^3 See Martin van Craveld,
    On Future War (London and Washington: Brassey's, 1991). ] [10]^4 I
    have considered what such a shift in our evaluation of state and
    market institutions might mean, primarily in the context of Britain
    today, in my monograph After Social Democracy (London: Demos, 1996)
    republished in my book Endgames: Questions in Late Modern Political
    Thought (Cambridge: Polity, 1997). ]