[Paleopsych] TLS: John Gray: Autonomy is not the only good
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John Gray: Autonomy is not the only good
The Times Literary Supplement, 97.6.13
http://the-tls.co.uk/archive/story.aspx?story_id=2090042&window_type=print
LIBERAL MODERNISM AND DEMOCRATIC INDIVIDUALITY. George Kateb and the
practices of politics By Austin Sarat and Dana R. Villa, editors
345pp. Princeton University Press; distributed in the UK by Wiley.
Paperback, £14.95. - 0 691 02596 7
REQUIEM FOR MODERN POLITICS. The political tragedy of the
Enlightenment William Ophuls 320pp. Westview, 12 Hid's Copse Road,
Cumnor Hill, Oxford OX2 9JJ. £21.50. - 0 8133 3142 0
AGAINST LIBERALISM John Kekes 244pp. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University
Press; distributed in the UK by Plymbridge. £23.50. - 0 8014 8400 6
A particular liberal hegemony in political philosophy is nearly over.
For more than twenty years after the publication of John Rawls's
Theory of Justice in 1970, English-speaking political philosophy was
dominated by a single variety of liberalism. This American liberal
doctrine understood political philosophy to be a branch of legal
theory. Its goal was to state the principles of an ideal liberal
constitution. As it was practised by Rawls, Dworkin, Ackerman, Nozick
and their unnumbered followers in this school, the subject-matter of
political philosophy was not politics. It was law. Its final product
was a theory of justice and rights which specified the basic liberties
held by citizens in a liberal state.
The voluminous literature spawned by this school consisted of
protracted discussions of a small range of themes. These were dictated
by the legalist agenda of Rawlsian theory rather than by the
historical experience of liberal states. They had to do with the
neutrality of a liberal state regarding specific ideals of the good
life, the fair distribution of social goods that were owed to
exponents of all acceptable ideals, and the derivation of principles
of social justice from the rational choices of individuals. The
exchanges that surrounded these themes had two noteworthy features.
Firstly, the possibility that political philosophy might have other,
non-liberal agendas was rarely entertained. It was almost as if there
could not be a coherent political philosophy that was not a variety of
liberalism. If Aristotle, Aquinas, Hobbes or Hume had anything of
interest to say, it was as unwitting precursors of a late
twentieth-century American liberal consensus.
In the second place, the liberal theory that Aristotle and others had
laboured, unknowing, to make possible was liberalism of a singular
kind. Its continuities with liberal thought in the past were few. No
liberal philosopher before Rawls made moral neutrality a desideratum
of a liberal state. Liberal thinkers from John Locke to Isaiah Berlin
have advocated toleration, not neutrality, as the central practice of
liberal institutions. Equally, few thinkers in the history of liberal
thought have ever understood political philosophy to be a branch of
legal theory. John Stuart Mill did not see himself in On Liberty as
drafting an ideal constitution, in which basic liberties were fixed
once and for all. He understood himself to be giving guidance to an
ideal legislature. The principles stated in his essay do not specify
basic liberties. They protect different freedoms in different times
and places. Mill's main principle about the restraint of individual
liberty, allows such liberty to be exercised fully only where there is
no question of harm to others. Otherwise it requires legislators to
make a reasonable, on-balance judgment about which mixture of freedom
and restraint will best promote general well-being. Mill recognized
that this judgment will vary according to circumstances. Today, Mill's
principles would plausibly mandate far-reaching decriminalization of
drug use in the United States; in Britain, probably, they still do
not. This open-endedness remains a central feature of liberal thinking
in a Millian tradition, as we find it today in the work of
philosophers such as Joseph Raz. It is striking that, because many of
its practitioners were innocent of the longer and larger history of
liberal thought, the recently dominant Rawlsian school failed to
notice how novel and how local its view of the agenda of liberal
philosophy was. Yet its conclusions were meant to be authoritative for
all liberal regimes.
George Kateb is a liberal thinker; but in his writings even the most
familiar liberal themes are thought anew. In Liberal Modernism and
Democratic Individuality, sixteen friends, colleagues and critics of
Kateb's consider the highly distinctive variant of liberal theory that
he has spent a lifetime developing. It is one that is no less
indigenously and peculiarly American than Rawls's, but it articulates
a far more deeply deliberated understanding of American traditions.
For Kateb, the American constitutionalist tradition is not - as some
might suppose - a flaking monument to legalism. It embodies a
particular, modernist understanding of the individuality of human
subjects. Kateb finds this understanding in writers hitherto neglected
by contemporary liberal thinkers - notably Emerson, Whitman and
Thoreau. In these American scholars and poets, the relationship of
individuality with the finitude of human life, stated canonically by
Augustine and reformulated by Kierkegaard and Heidegger, is denied.
Kateb follows these American thinkers in refusing to identify the
human subject with its limits. Instead, he advocates an estrangement
from all fixed identities as the understanding of individuality that
best supports the practice of rights. He is an unrelenting critic of
those - notably anti-modernist republicans such as Hannah Arendt and
some recent communitarian theorists - whose nostalgia for a condition
in which human beings are at home in the world has led them to become
enemies of the modern culture of individuality.
In Kateb's thought, a Nietzschean ideal of individuality is wedded to
an American understanding of democratic equality. The marriage is
inevitably problematic. In one of the most memorable contributions in
a very rich collection assembled in Liberal Modernism and Democratic
Individuality, the late Judith Shklar comments on the sentimentality
and religiosity which mars Emerson's The American Scholar. Her
criticism might be put more sharply. When reading Emerson, one cannot
help being reminded of T. E. Hulme's observation that the romantic
sensibility is infallibly revealed by the repeated use of the epithet
"infinite". But a romantic rejection of the finitude of human lives is
not the best departure point for thinking about politics. Emerson's
advocacy of a culture of untrammelled individuality lacks a sober
sense of the social hazards of any such ideal. It may be true that
Americans, more than most other peoples, are ready to trade off
security for individuality. The self-realization they seek may well be
an illusion; but that does not render the exchange they have made any
less real. Nor does it lessen the costs of a culture of
self-realization for the losers in American society.
The trouble with the Emersonian freedom of unencumbered self-creation
that Kateb celebrates is that it must be exercised in a world
cluttered with other human beings. As Tracy Strong notes in his
intriguing contribution on "Politics and Transparency", Emerson's
account of the self-defined, "transparent" individual can be usefully
contrasted with Hawthorne's view of human beings as opaque creatures
whose identities are always partly accidental. The contrast tells in
favour of Hawthorne and against Emerson and Kateb. In his
contribution, William Connolly argues in similar terms that the
self-confident assertion of democratic individuality must unavoidably
be played out against a background of repressed cultural differences,
while Benjamin Barber defends multiculturalism against Kateb's charge
that identity-defining communities are inherently repressive. For
American liberals, the final lesson suggested by these criticisms must
be deeply discomforting. It is that unabridged individuality
inescapably involves serious losses of democratic equality. This
conflict of goods is endemic and universal. It has not been overcome
in American constitutionalism, but instead embodied in it.
Like classical Marxism and its Leninist posterity, liberal theory has
largely denied the reality of environmental limits on the achievement
of its hopes. In both cases, this is due partly to the continuing
power of the Enlightenment. Nearly all Enlightenment thinkers have
followed Christianity in thinking of the earth as a resource to be
used in the service of human purposes. In this anthropocentric
perspective, the other animals and forms of life with which humans
share the earth have no value in themselves, but only as instruments
of a project of human emancipation. If the natural world proves
obstructive to this ambition, then human resourcefulness is invoked to
subjugate it. In Requiem for Modern Politics, William Ophuls indicts
this Enlightenment project as the source of the twin modern evils of
statism and environmental degradation. He finds in the thought of
Hobbes the starkest expression of the modern-ist, Enlightenment
world-view - individualist, rationalist, instrumentalist and radically
subjectivist in its understanding of values - to which he ascribes our
unbalanced relationship with the natural world and each another.
Ophuls's book is refreshingly unconventional in recalling the limits
imposed by natural scarcity on modern political ideals and in its
critique of standard conceptions of economic development.
Ophuls's conclusion - a call for a shift in world-view, a
transmutation of human consciousness, as the only viable response to
ecological danger - is nevertheless unconvincing. A people that
converted to a new, environmentalist world-view would still have
somehow to survive in a dirty and dangerous world. Moreover, the chief
threat to the human and natural environments does not come today - as
perhaps it did during the totalitarian period, earlier this century -
from the hubristic ambitions of states. It comes from anarchic market
forces and from the absence in much of the world of anything
resembling a modern state that might control them. In these
circumstances, Hobbes's thought is a repository of a vital truth. For
us, an effective modern state is a precondition not only of commodious
living but also of environmental conservation. There is an instructive
paradox here. Cultures shaped by the Enlightenment cannot hope to
escape ecological catastrophe through a re-enchantment of the world.
The cure for their ills - if there is one - can only be homoeopathic.
Moderating the dangers to the environment that modern institutions and
technologies have created will demand all the resources of rationality
of contemporary societies. There is no way back from modernity.
An oddity of much recent liberal thought is its fetishization of
individual autonomy. It is elevated beyond every other good as being
in some way the precondition of all moral and political virtues. One
of the many merits of John Kekes's Against Liberalism is its careful
argument that the priority attached to individual autonomy in such
liberal philosophies is unreasonable. On any sensibly pluralistic
view, autonomy is only one among the necessary conditions and
ingredients of human well-being. Others - such as peace, social
cohesion and a healthy environment - are just as important. Further -
and here Kekes rehearses and develops the argument of his seminal
book, The Morality of Pluralism - these other components of the human
good cannot always be made compatible with autonomy. On the contrary,
often their demands conflict with those of autonomy, and sometimes
there is no one resolution of such conflicts that can command the
support of all reasonable people. Kekes's central, unanswerable
argument is that in unreasonably emphasizing the good of autonomy,
recent liberalism evades the reality of such conflicts of values. This
argument is fatal to the Kantian liberal project of a pure philosophy
of right, and its corollary, the notion that political philosophy is
the attempt to specify an ideal constitution.
Kekes's other arguments against liberalism are not nearly so
demonstrative. His critique of liberal benevolence follows a path in
conservative discourse that has lately been trodden pretty heavily. In
truth, value-pluralism has no essential affinity with conservative
political thought or practice. Like Isaiah Berlin's, Kekes's
value-pluralism destroys the spurious harmonies of doctrinal
liberalism, because it entails that where freedoms conflict, there is
no one set of basic liberties that all liberal states are bound to
respect. Yet it does not thereby support any kind of conservatism. A
pluralist affirmation of the irreducible diversity and rational
incommensurability of human goods can as well inspire an ambitious
programme of reform as buttress a stoical defence of present
imperfections.
Kekes's imaginative and provocative book is only one of many
unmistakable evidences of the passing of the Rawlsian regime in
political philosophy. The ongoing dissolution of that liberal hegemony
is a sign that pluralism is at last reaching into intellectual life.
As a result, political philosophy may be able to reconnect with the
world that it was once supposed to be about. With the passing of the
singular and aberrant liberalism that has dominated the subject over
the past quarter-century political thought may once again be free to
engage with political practice. Such a development would be a hopeful
augury, not least for liberalism.
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