[Paleopsych] TLS: John Gray: The derelict utopia
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John Gray: The derelict utopia
The Times Literary Supplement, 1996.5.24
http://the-tls.co.uk/archive/story.aspx?story_id=2086441&window_type=print
LIBERALISM WITHOUT ILLUSIONS. Bernard Yack, editor. Essays on liberal
theory and the political vision of Judith N. Shklar 292pp. University
of Chicago Press; distributed in the UK by Wiley. £33.50 (paperback,
£13.50). 0 226 94469 7
Recent liberal thought is littered with utopias. Among liberals of the
Right, the utopian imagination has attached itself to the vision of a
minimal state presiding over an unfettered market, while liberals of
the Left have envisaged an egalitarian state in which basic liberties
and the claims of the worst off are respected as rights. What is
striking about the standard varieties of liberal theory over the past
generation is their extraordinary optimism about the institution of
law. Liberals as different as F. A. Hayek and John Rawls share the
common project of limiting the scope of political life. They seek to
insulate the demands of justice - as they very differently understand
them - from political deliberation and negotiation. This is a species
of utopian legalism that liberals of an older school ,Tocqueville,
Constant or John Stuart Mill, say could hardly have entertained
seriously. Perhaps predictably, its results in practice have been
mostly dystopian. Twentieth-century history suggests that law is a
blunt and fragile defence against injustice. The recent history of the
United States, in which an atavistic and irresolvable dispute about
abortion and rights has convulsed political life, does not support the
utopian ambition of liberal legalism of entrenching rights beyond the
reach of political conflict. The ongoing American experiment in mass
incarceration, which, without appreciably reducing levels of crime,
has already left a higher proportion of the population behind bars
than in any country apart from post-Communist Russia, should caution
anyone who thinks deep-seated social and economic problems respond to
the procedures and sanctions of the criminal law. History teaches
scepticism about any "theory of justice" that claims neutrality , as
standard liberal theorists of all political persuasions over the past
twenty of thirty years have routinely done in conflicts between
world-views and conceptions of the good. It should instil modesty
about what the institution of law can hope to achieve. Yet the
mainstream of liberal thought is still a wasteland of derelict
legalist utopias.
Judith Shklar was an uncompromising liberal who never subscribed to
the orthodoxies of liberal legalism. She was not interested in
theories of justice, because she thought injustice too protean to be
captured in any theory. She was not hostile to the American culture of
rights, but she believed the distinction between misfortune and
injustice marked a political choice, not a legal judgment. She knew
too much about ordinary human cruelty ever to allow herself or others
to become romantic about life in strong communities. She was not
afraid to defend a "liberalism of fear". Rightly, she understood
liberalism to be as much a remedy against life in communities as a
prescription for communities of a certain type. Coming from a family
of German-speaking Jews from Riga, who had fled Latvia at the last
moment, in 1939, her own life had immunized her against any variety of
political romanticism. Like Isaiah Berlin's, her liberalism affirmed
conflict and loss as ineradicable elements in even the best human
lives and the fairest societies. For those who had known her, Shklar's
death in 1992 was a tragic cutting off in its prime of a rare capacity
for thought.
Liberalism Without Illusions is a collection of sixteen essays, all of
interest and some of considerable power, exploring and assessing
Shklar's intellectual legacy, together with a charming and inimitable
autobiographical essay by Shklar herself. Most of the pieces address
Shklar's conviction that liberalism is a negative and strictly
political doctrine, arising not from any comprehensive view of the
human good but from the attempt to build bulwarks against the worst
ordinary vices. For Shklar, the task of liberal institutions was the
negative one of removing, or at least mitigating, the principal
obstacles to a tolerable human life; but, though avowedly negative,
this task was not circumscribed, as it has been in many forms of
classical liberalism, by any theory of the limits of state action. In
Shklar's view, as in Berlin's, liberal institutions must be as
resourceful and inventive as the evils they resist. The liberalism of
fear encompasses many strategies of positive state action. It mandates
policies to expand opportunities as well as to protect the weak
against oppression.
In a penetrating essay, Amy Gutman argues convincingly that the
implication of Shklar's liberalism of fear is not negative liberalism
but a version of active democracy an implication she traces in the
evolution of Shklar's thought from her article "The Liberalism of
Fear" (1989) through her books The Faces of Injustice (1990) and
American Citizenship (1991). A similar conclusion is reached by
Michael Walzer in a subtle and far-reaching consideration of negative
liberalism. Walzer suggests that what distinguishes Shklar's
liberalism of fear is not just its stress on the positive engagements
of the state but also its particularism. The task of liberal
institutions is not only to erect bulwarks against the universal evils
of arbitrary power torture, unjust imprisonment and so forth. It is to
enable people to stand up against the insults to dignity and
independence that go with a particular culture and its history the
history, for example, of black chattel slavery in America. The moral
of Walzer's argument is that liberalism can never be only the
application of remedies against universal evils. It is always also the
defence, and reform, of particular ways of life.
Some of the essays are notable contributions to discussion of
particular questions within liberalism. In a characteristically
spirited and thoughtful piece, George Kateb argues that the right of
free expression protects even speech that is worthless or harmful.
This protection includes, Kateb makes clear, those forms of speech
such as racist and sexist speech that are the targets of the speech
codes common in American universities. Implicit in Kateb's essay is
the belief that this conclusion applies universally, in all liberal
societies everywhere. Now it is true that issues to do with offensive
speech arise in all cultures, as is shown by British law which makes
racist speech a criminal offence. Yet it is clear that the
controversies Kateb's essay addresses derive their peculiar intensity
from features of American society that are not found in other liberal
cultures. Of these, the history of black slavery is perhaps only the
most obvious; the cultural propensity to represent all serious issues
of public policy as questions about the interpretation of fundamental
rights is undoubtedly another. Kateb's argument against speech codes
is highly persuasive; but its method, which is that of appealing to
first prin-ciples the contents of which are hopelessly in-determinate,
guarantees that speech codes will persist, as intractably contested
practices, in American universities.
In a useful and fair-minded contribution, Rogers M. Smith argues that
the re-emergence in many parts of the world of ethnic enmities,
religious fundamentalism and other illiberal developments does not
show that the liberal project must now be relinquished along with
other forms of the Enlightenment project. For Smith, liberal thought
and practice may be flawed, incomplete and even in some ways
contradictory; but they are not so defective as to warrant the large
and dangerous step of abandoning liberalism's universal claims. Here
we note a pervasive feature of liberal thought in our time, which is
its apologetic character. Political philosophy today is often an
exercise in finding bad reasons for what liberals believe by instinct.
Nothing in the real world of history is allowed to threaten the
certainty that liberal institutions are the best for all humankind.
This is, in effect, another kind of liberalism of fear, one devoted to
securing the liberal conception of progress against any possibility of
historical falsification. What this liberalism of fear neglects is the
wholly genuine possibility that fear may sustain allegiance to
illiberal institutions. If, in China, it is reasonable to fear a
collapse into anarchy, with its attendant colossal sufferings; if, in
Singapore, a somewhat authoritarian regime can deliver not only civil
peace but standards of healthcare and education for ordinary people
that surpass those achieved in many liberal societies; by what leap of
faith can it be asserted that liberal institutions ought to be adopted
in such circumstances? A similar subversive question was put, around
the time of the birth of the modern state, in the writings of Thomas
Hobbes, a proto-liberal and as Quentin Skinner shows in one of the
most interesting contributions to Bernard Yack's admirable collection
at the same time one of liberalism's greatest critics. It remains
unanswered by liberal theory to this day.
In our time, human well-being is most threatened not by state power
but by the disabling weakness of state institutions. Nearly
everywhere, states are suffering a leakage of power to globalized
markets and organized crime, among other forces as a result of which
they are decreasingly able to provide their citizens with even the
rudiments of security. In this new historical context, Shklar's
dystopic liberalism of fear may itself prove to be utopian. Shklar's
legacy is nevertheless an inspiring example of liberal thought at its
arresting best, unflinchingly courageous and unmoved by the dreary and
unmeaning harmonies conjured up by theories of justice and rights.
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