[This
is Chapter Twelve of Murphey’s book Understanding
the Modern Predicament.]
Chapter
Twelve
Consequences of the
Alienation
Modern life has its own dynamic, with major forces pulling
and tugging within it. I hope I have said enough to show that the alienation of
the intellectual is one of the more important factors in the dynamic. The
history especially of the past century has been significantly different than it
would have been if the alienation had not been present. In the absence of the
alienation, modern society would have had a far more "normal
" development. With it, though, the European and American cultures
-- and through them all other peoples, too -- have grown in an atmosphere
tainted by bitter tension. The hegemony of the Middle
Ages has given way to major conflicting value systems. The tension has given
rise to mass ideologies and secular religions. At the same time, other needed
developments have atrophied.
Nothing
was so important to the rise of European socialism as
alienation. It was a major contributor to the cultural and intellectual chaos
that led to Hitler in
Germany and
consequently to World War II. It incubated Marxism and
Leninism. The consequences of this have been evident in the
Soviet
Union,
China,
Eastern
Europe, and in such places as
Korea,
Vietnam,
Cambodia,
Cuba and
Chile. They
have appeared in the "protracted conflict" of the Cold War, which has
made (and which, despite "detente," continues to make) the
intellectuals' alienation a discoloring element in the future direction of the
so-called
Third World. The
alienation has deflected the spiritual and intellectual essence of American
life; it has led to modern American liberalism and most recently to the New
Left, while the classical liberalism that has supported the great middle class
and individual liberty has suffered from severe undernourishment.
The
alienation has had these effects within the context of the "explosion of
the multitudes" and of expanding technology, secularism and science. It
has by no means been the only force at work. But without the alienation, who
can say what modern history might have been or the present map of the world
would show?
The
remaining chapters of this book will each deal with one aspect or another of
the alienation's consequences. The purpose of the present chapter, though, is
more general; it is to discuss the many consequences in their overall sweep. I
will do this under three large headings. The first will deal with the immensely
significant rise of the Left during the modern period. The second will relate
the alienation to the otherwise inexplicable hierarchy of values within the
psychology of the alienated intellectual. And the third will discuss the effect
of the alienation on the development of capitalism and of classical liberal thought.
The Rise of the Left
I will attribute the rise of
socialism very largely to the alienation, but I am afraid that this may create
a false impression. It would be a mistake to think that the alienation created
socialist thought per se. Socialist models were full-blown at least as
long ago as the ancient Greeks. One of Aristophanes' comedies explored the
scheme of a fully egalitarian community, having a hilarious time with the fact
that it included equality among even the beautiful and the ugly in sexual
relations.1 When we consider the entire
history of humanity, it is collectivism rather than individualism that has been
most typical of the human experience.
However,
if we ask why there has been a vast socialist movement during our particular
period of history -- an angry movement that has challenged capitalism, the
middle class and individual liberty despite the visibility of their
achievements --, we find a number of contributing factors; but the towering
hatred the modern intellectual has felt against the culture in which he has
lived stands out as the foremost among them. This hatred has given continuous
impetus and articulation to the socialist movement for two and a half centuries
since Rousseau, elaborating it, picking it up if ever it has flagged, kindling it into a major intellectual and spiritual force.
It has stood out in the literature of our time and has been the powerful
dynamic factor within the emergence of socialism.
A subculture. The
dissatisfaction felt by the modern intellectual has been the link that has
brought together the diverse factions in modern social thought. It is
symbolically significant, for example, that Werner Sombart was able to move
from a prominent place in the German Historical School into Marxism and then
into National Socialism. This was an extensive intellectual migration that
involved moving from one faction to another and then to another, despite all
the vituperation each faction voiced against the others. But each of the
movements embodied an extreme anti-bourgeois alienation. What was constant was
that throughout his migration Sombart was able to maintain this alienation.2
When
I say that modern intellectuality has constituted a subculture, I shouldn't be
taken to mean that all alienated intellectuals have shared the same views. In
fact, there has been an amazing diversity. The lack of homogeneity is just as
evident within socialist thought as it is elsewhere. And yet, overwhelmingly
the intellectuals have been set off against the rest of the culture. They have
differed internecinely about the particular model of society they would
substitute for bourgeois culture and about the best way to effect change, but
they have been almost unanimous in their antipathy toward the predominant
culture. They have formed, as Burke said, a "corporation" of their
own.
The existence of a subculture of the intelligentsia is what
gives modern social thought the "herd quality" that is so often
evident. Conservatives in the United States
have often referred to "knee-jerk liberals." This refers to the kind
of person who responds predictably, both intellectually and emotionally, in
line with the current fashion of the intellectual mass.
This
involves considerable faddishness. The subculture is swept by fashions of
opinion and emotion, sometimes of lifestyle. While this is true with regard to
political and social issues, it is also true within academic disciplines.
Intellectuals yearn to be "in the swim." Anyone who is not is made
aware of his anti-social malevolence. The sub- culture, having a virtual
monopoly on the articulation of ideas, constitutes a modern Orthodoxy. But no
orthodoxy perceives itself as such. The modern Left is convinced that the ideas
it espouses aren't ideas at all: that they are realities. In academic life the
truisms of the subculture take their place as the criteria for scholarly
performance; they permeate the journals and the research; they become the basis
for doctoral dissertations and even of entire disciplines. And by occupying all
spaces, they smother alternatives. The orthodoxy has intricately
institutionalized itself. In turn, the institutions drive off those who by
temperament or intellectual inclination would prefer a different approach. For
example, a student who isn't disposed toward highly mathematical and narrowly
empirical studies in a modern liberal environment finds himself profoundly at
odds with higher education in the
United
States today.
The alliance with the “have-nots.” The
subculture is politically impotent just by itself. It lacks the power it wants
in modern society. The result is, as Eric Hoffer has said, that the modern
intellectual "has consistently sought a link with the underprivileged. So
far, his most potent alliance has been with the masses."3
The intellectual has sought this alliance far more avidly
than have the masses themselves. Very often the masses have been totally
lethargic toward it. It has required a prodigious effort on the part of the
intellectual.
The
alliance is what most typifies the modern Left, however. What we call the Left
is a coalition between the alienated intellectual and the have-nots against the
main society. The alliance is a unique feature. Because of it, the Left
includes an ingredient that makes it distinct from generic socialist thought as
that thought existed among the ancient Greeks and will probably exist in future
ages. The alliance means, too, that the Left is as much a matter of tactics and
of sheer political expedience as it is of pure thought. And it embodies its own
"internal contradiction" (to use a Marxist phrase) born out of the
difference between its elitist and vulgarian elements.
Marxism
is a good example of the alliance. Marx wrote an elaborate theory of class
struggle that described the struggle of the proletariat against the bourgeoisie.
But who was Marx himself other than an intellectual who was proselytizing in
favor of alienation, socialism and revolution? He worked to create the very
"class consciousness" he predicted.
One
of the leading New Left philosophers, Herbert Marcuse, did the same. He began
by acknowledging that the coalition foreseen by Marx had not actually produced
a revolution. Instead of the rich getting richer and the poor poorer, the
worker had become better off. In light of these things, we could expect that if
it were not for the alienation everyone, including Marcuse,
would rejoice at capitalism's accomplishment. But Marcuse merely shifted his
sights. He looked for a new ally for his alienation. If there were still to be
a revolution, he said, it would have to come from the oppressed minorities and
the disaffected young.4 We see again the
formula of intellectual seeking an alliance with the have-not.
In
the
United States,
modern liberalism has involved the alliance. American political writing often
refers to "the
Roosevelt
coalition." Franklin Delano Roosevelt was able to bring together the
intellectual, organized labor, the racial and religious minorities, and (by
historical accident) the Solid South. This meant that the intellectual was
again aligned with the have-nots. In recent years, the
Roosevelt
coalition has tended to break up, and this has led to considerable
consternation inside the liberal movement. There has been much talk of a
"New Coalition" that will continue to link the intellectual with the
unassimilated elements of society. The McGovern campaign in 1972 sought it
unsuccessfully. President Carter was able to put the pieces together in 1976,
at least enough for a narrow victory, even though he wasn't identified with the
intellectual subculture.
Both
in European socialism and in American liberalism, the alliance has resulted in
an egalitarian movement with an elitist underlay. Friedrich Hayek was right
when he said that "socialism has never and nowhere been at first a
working-class movement." He pointed out that "it required long
efforts by the intellectuals before the working classes could be persuaded to
adopt it as their program."5
A tactically formed worldview. Both
the alienation and the alliance's incongruous mixture of forces mold the
specific content of the Left's ideology. The result is a gigantic warping. The
effects are felt in the Left itself and in the larger society. In what follows,
I will want to examine some of these effects.
(1) If it were not for the alienation, modern literature would
be very different from what it has been. The alienation is necessarily a major
part of the Left's own literature and rhetoric. This has meant that for well
over a century our literary emphasis has been on opposition and social
criticism. It is probably safe to say that modern literature has been more
incessantly negative than any other literature in history.
(2) Many of the Left's intellectual movements and many
aspects of modern thought in general have involved “relativism." The
relativism has resulted from two very different sources: empirical science, and
the alienated intellectual's tactical need to debunk bourgeois life. Several
prominent movements (such as pragmatism, positivism, situation ethics,
historicism and cultural relativism) have involved this dual aspect. They have
been in tune with a non-provincial empiricism; but they have also served as
"debunking" mechanisms.
It is easy to understand how the scientific mind becomes
aligned with relativism. An anthropologist, for example, who studies several
cultures becomes aware that the customs and beliefs within a given society are
just one cultural alternative among many. His breadth of intellectual exposure
works against a narrow provincialism. He sees that things are relative to their
circumstances and history. In this context, no one way of doing things seems
the only right way. I might add that I myself endorse this form of relativism,
since it is a valid mode of perception.
On the other hand, there is nothing in relativism that should
allow it, by itself, to debunk any culture. It isn't intellectually sound to
tell someone to "forget your beliefs and principles and acculturations;
everything is relative and there are no truths." The Left does this
constantly with bourgeois culture. But it is one thing to strip a people of
their provincialisms by showing them that there are alternative approaches; it
is quite another thing to be able to show that their beliefs, social
structurings, institutions, etc., are wrong on the merits. When
relativism is used as a debunking tool, it never takes the argument as far as
it must to be valid. If the argument doesn't actually get into the merits and
show that human values aren't well served by the society's existing customs and
beliefs, it has no basis for debunking that society. Since Rousseau, relativism
has been used as a corrosive acid to undercut bourgeois acculturations and
beliefs. But it is doubtful whether the relativistic critics could win the
argument on its merits. Even with all its faults, bourgeois society has many
features that sustain and advance civilization.
This
abused relativism has been the Left's most frequent weapon. Situation ethics
was most important for its negative feature -- its opposition to codes of
socially-enforced moral conduct. Eric Goldman was candid enough to point out
that pragmatism had been a "method of doing without the conservative
philosophy."6 Historical
relativism has sanctioned a refurbishing of the Middle Ages (a reinterpretation
that has been intellectually important to the Left).
There
is an example in American Constitutional Law that will help us understand why
there has been so much enthusiasm for relativistic approaches. To someone
reading twentieth century legal writing for the first time, it seems odd that
there has been so much praise for Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. 's, statement that
"the life of the law has been experience, not logic." By itself, it
seems prosaic. We understand the enthusiasm only when we realize that. Holmes'
statement summed up an important line of attack against the Rule of Law. The
Rule of Law is an ideal that seeks stable, known law, applied through general
norms that are to be administered even-handedly through a logical process. It
is a part of the classical liberal model because it serves two important
purposes for an individualistic society: it frees the acting man by giving him
dependable guideposts; and it chains down governments by making them govern by
known law rather than by short-term command. The refutation of the Rule of Law
was vitally necessary for modern liberalism, since the refutation was needed in
order to overcome the Constitutional restraints that were holding back the
Welfare State and the growth of the federal government. There was an easy link
between Holmes' "the life of the law has been experience, not logic"
and Charles Evans Hughes' "the Constitution is what the judges say it
is." As soon as the latter view was accepted, the door was open for the
immense Constitutional changes that have occurred since the late 1930s.
Before
leaving this point, it is worth noticing that the opposition to middle class
values even goes beyond a relativistic attack. It also distorts the values that
the members of the Left would otherwise hold. I doubt whether the
"anti-hero" would be a major theme in modern literature if it were
not for the alienation against the so-called middle class ethic and for the
alliance with the non-achievers. Nor, in the absence of the alienation, would
the "Sense of the Awful" which runs through so much modern writing,
art, music and poetry be prevalent. When a critic argued that the merit of
modern art lies in its portrayal of the "poverty of the soul," he
praised a type of art that appeals to the intellectual precisely because of its
denial of middle class values. By contrast, bourgeois art doesn't dwell on
anguish and poverty of spirit; it deals with the themes of ordinary life.
(3)
The reader will recall that we are discussing the ways in which the alienation
and the alliance have warped the Left's worldview. One area where the effect
has been profound has been in social and economic theory. I will want to
mention briefly several of the ways this theory has been affected.
Perhaps
most importantly, the Left has developed theories of exploitation, which interpret
life in ways that, if true, make a classical liberal society unthinkable.
Alienation
has strongly colored the Left's interpretation of the economic history of the
Industrial Revolution. The
interpretation magnifies the bad and virtually ignores the good.
The
Left's opposition to private property is, in one sense, a purely intellectual
preference; but it can also be seen as a severe weapon against the acting man
of commerce.
The
alliance with the have-nots has led to significant differences between the ways
a classical liberal and a member of the Left perceive the role of the
environment in relation to the individual.
[Note in 2003: By “environment” here I mean the overall context
in which a person lives, not “environment” in the sense that has become
commonly understood since the start of the ecology movement.] The Left places little emphasis on the
self-starting capabilities of the individual himself; it opposes any deliberate
creation of a "moral environment" that will inculcate self-reliant values;
and it stresses the pressing, entrapping, monolithic nature of the environment.
The Left arrives at this set of prejudices because of its opposition to middle
class ethical values and because of its alliance with the have-nots. These two
factors are at work in the Left's usual way of seeing welfare recipients: the
Left isn't about to advise them about, or judge them by, their
responsibilities; and it will almost always accept the recipient's own view
that his problems are mainly the fault of "society."
(4)
In my book on socialism, I will discuss the "layered" quality of the
Left. The Left's outer mask is often majority rule. But egalitarianism is a
more basic value, and will be pursued independently of the majority if the
majority isn't disposed to support it. Deeper still, underneath the
egalitarianism, there is the elitism of the intelligentsia. To this elitism,
equality is not ultimately a goal; it is only a crucially important tactical
device as a way of cutting down the acting man and of gaining political support
from the have-nots. The Left can only be understood by reference to this
hierarchy of elements.
By
leading to the rise of the Left, the alienation has profoundly affected the
world at large. We often hear that the entire globe has been Westernized during
the past century. But the Westernization has been accomplished in two ways, and
this dualism has carried into the other areas of the world the divisions that
have characterized modern Western civilization. First, the world has been
Westernized by the spread of Western technology and cultural influences. This
would have happened even if the alienation had been absent. But second, the
West's intellectual influences have infected Asia, Africa and Latin America
with the same neurotic relationship between the intellectual and the culture as
has been so typical of Europe and America. This means that the world has fallen
heir to a civilization that has long suffered an existential crisis. This makes
even more problematic the future of the non-European world which is filling up
and becoming more participative. As the whole world "comes into its
own," it does so with considerable cosmic immaturity and without really
constructive leadership -- especially in the intellectual and spiritual areas
-- from the catalytic civilization of the West.
The Alienated Intellectuals' Hierarchy of Values
The intellectual's alienation against the predominant culture
necessarily affects his perception of values relating to that culture. Instead
of the "balance of values" that a person who is more attuned to the
culture would seek, he will tend to place a high value on the reformist
measures that he thinks desirable and to denigrate all else. Precisely because
of his alienation, these other values will be given little or no weight, or
will be rejected totally. The result will be an orientation that people who
identify with the culture will view as extreme. The extent of the extremity
will depend largely on the extent of the alienation.
This
difference in value-orientation is illustrated by a comparison of the positions
of the Abolitionists and the Jacksonians before the Civil War. In his Farewell
Address in 1837, Andrew Jackson spoke of the Union with reverence. He said that
"at every hazard and by every sacrifice this Union must be
preserved." He pointed out that Washington had considered the Constitution
an experiment, but he added: "The trial has been made. It has succeeded
beyond the proudest hopes of those who framed it. Every quarter of this widely
extended nation has felt its blessings and shared in the general prosperity
produced by its adoption."7
Jackson valued American society and its institutions. And because he
did, it wasn't surprising that he went on in his speech to warn against
anything that would tend to shatter the union. He spoke first against movements
of nullification and secession. Then he spoke against the anti-slavery
agitation, warning that it could break the bonds formed by the Constitution. He
used fairly strong language: "Rest assured that the men found busy in this
work of discord are not worthy of your confidence, and deserve your strongest
reprobation." Martin Van Buren expressed similar views in his Autobiography
when he said that the original union of the thirteen former colonies had
necessarily subsumed that the slavery that existed in the Southern states
didn't befoul them. Van Buren felt that it wouldn't be honorable both to
declare their institutions intolerable and to insist that the political union
with them be continued. "If our participation in the protection which the
Federal Constitution extends to the institution of slavery had become
intolerable to us, and we had satisfied ourselves that the interests of
humanity would gain more by our release from that obligation than they would lose
by a dissolution of the Union, there was one way in which we could obtain an
honorable discharge and that was by tendering to our brethren of the slave
holding states a peaceable and voluntary dissolution."8 During
the years preceding the Civil War, the Jacksonian presidents continued to say
that the problem of slavery was of less importance than the value of preserving
Constitutional order.
The values held by the
alienated intellectuals, however, stood in sharp contrast to these views. In Walden
and his Essay on Civil Disobedience, Henry David Thoreau voiced
strong alienation against American culture -- and also against its politics and
institutions. On the slavery issue, he said he would be disgraced to be
associated with the American government. "I cannot for an instant
recognize that political organization as my government which is the slave's
government also.”9 In an extremely illuminating passage, he said
that "seen from a lower point of view, the Constitution, with all its
faults, is very good; the law and the courts are very respectable; even this
State and this American government are, in many respects, very admirable and
rare things, to be thankful for, such as a great many have described them; but
seen from a
point of view a little higher, they are what I have
described them; seen from a higher still, and the highest, who shall say what
they are, or that they are worth looking at or thinking of at all?" In
saying this, he was expressing a hierarchy of values that was diametrically
opposed to the balance of values held by the Jacksonians. The difference
between them is explained by Thoreau's alienation, which raised his reformist
objectives in his mind and devalued everything else.
We
know what followed in American history: the Civil War, the freeing of the
slaves, the Reconstruction, and much else. Slavery was abolished and the Union
was kept together. Many people conclude, then, that the abolitionist was right.
But the success of northern arms obscures the nature of the choice men had to
make in the 1830s, 1840s and 1850s. Thoreau's choice ran a terrible risk. The
American union could have been destroyed. The likelihood was that the South
would secede without the North being able to force it back. In that case,
slavery would not have been abolished. The two antagonistic countries would
almost certainly have continued to fight wars over the extension westward. It
was this that was most likely. Thoreau was willing to risk it because he hardly
valued the things that would have been destroyed.
The
circumstances and issues of Russian history were different, but the behavior of
the Russian intelligentsia during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries
shows the same relationship between alienation and a value-orientation that
denies a balance of values. The nihilist Nechayev proclaimed that "we live
in the world to destroy it. "10 The Tsar Alexander II was known
as "The Great Reforming Tsar," but the nihilists rejected his work
and eventually, after many tries, succeeded in assassinating him. In the next
generation, their counterparts rejected the constitutional system established
after the revolution of 1905. Twelve years later, they overthrew the Kerensky
regime, which was ineffectual but democratic. In their hierarchy of values, few
if any values existed that counted other than the revolutionary values they
held so high.
The
same is evident in revolutionary Marxism. No matter what the accomplishments of
the contemporary world may be, they are to be smashed and ruled over by a
dictatorship so that a utopian ideal may (hopefully) be achieved. From the
point of view of anyone who does not share in the intense alienation and who
therefore sees modern life as a gigantic human enterprise that involves
countless competing values and interests that must be harmonized into a free
and civilized order, Marx's prescription is insane. If that person is to
understand Marx, he must understand the alienation's effects on value
structures.
The
same was true of the revolutionary portion of the New Left in the United States
in the late 1960s and early 1970s. We have seen that Herbert Marcuse expressed
a total alienation from American culture. Because of this, he was able to
formulate a type of Marxism that interpreted American freedom and well-being as
mere soporifics that were intended to put a sheep-like population to sleep.
Even though he acknowledged the improvement of the condition of the average
person during the past century, he still craved revolution -- and again in the
name of a utopian vision. His alienation made a balance of values impossible.
A
"balance of values" shouldn't be used to defend all existing social
orders regardless of their content. But in each of the instances I have cited,
and in many others besides, the singleness of purpose has sacrificed other
important values. The alienation is caused by some legitimate complaints and
other not-so-legitimate reasons, but in either case it has created a
value-distortion that has led away from rather than toward a free society.
The
value-orientation of the alienated intellectual leads potentially to
fanaticism. Fanaticism involves an inability to see any but a narrow range of
values. When the alienated intellectual is willing to raise certain values high
while he denigrates others, he approaches fanaticism. This is something we need
to understand if we hope to comprehend modern extremism.
Another
aspect of the alienated intellectual's psychological make-up is his elitist
moral perception. Even though he has consistently sought an alliance with the
have-nots and this has resulted in an emphasis on "democracy," the
alienated intellectual has felt strongly the exclusive rightness of his
perceptions. He has had little doubt but that the drum to which he has marched
has been the right one and that those to which the rest of the world has
marched have been false. This necessarily makes him an elitist. I point this
out without denying that some elitism is valid; I would have to hold to a
radical relativism to deny that some men and ideas are superior to others. But the
elitism of the alienated intellectual is noteworthy because it contradicts the
outer garment of democracy and egalitarianism that the alienated ideologies
have often worn. It is also doubtful whether the intellectual has a sound basis
for his elitism, since the reality he perceives is by no means as assuredly
correct as he thinks it is.
The
elitism is inferentially present in the psychology of alienation, but it is
also directly evident in many statements written during moments of candor. In
my review of the alienation in Chapter 10, I referred to Ezra Pound's comment
about a "half-educated, Zoroastrian rabble of 'respectable' people more
stupid and sodden than is to be found even in America." He followed this
comment by saying that "the Lord of the universe sends into this world in
each generation a few intelligent spirits, and these ultimately manage the
rest"11 We should also recall Burnette Haskell's observation
that "we found that the masses of working men were densely ignorant,
cowardly and selfish" -- to which
he added that "any pretext will do… that will rouse the people."12
Henry May observed generally about the collection of essays edited by Harold
Steams in 1922 that "many of the articles hinted... that the real enemy
was none other than democracy itself, with its deification of the average man
and its hatred of superiority."13 Alienated literature contains
many disparaging references to the public as being, for example, "the
herd.”
The
unique psychology of the alienated intellectual is also reflected in his desire
to use the State or a Revolution or a Collective as an essentially theocratic
instrument. His ideology is a social religion and the state or collective is,
in effect, a Church. Because he feels himself to be right, to be superior, and
because he despises so much of what he sees around him, he has taken for
granted the moral validity of a coercive, intolerant reformation of mankind.
The question of means, involving the different poles of rapid-versus-gradual,
violent-versus-peaceful change, has always tortured the Left, dividing it into
many factions. But the alienated intellectuals have been virtually unanimous in
their willingness to use statist or collectivist power as a means. They have
politicized most human values. Even though modern society is secular, the
modern world has seen no real separation of church and state. Those who have
proclaimed the cultural Truths of secular religion have sought as fervently as
the advocates of any prior religion to impress that Truth onto the rest of
humanity through the power of the state. If we were to deny it, tens of
millions of ghosts from the twentieth century would rise up to reassert it.
A
classical liberal conception of a free society denies the legitimacy of
any such use of state power. It doesn't deny that powerful cultural, spiritual,
ethical and legal bonds are needed to maintain even a free society, but the
bonds are necessary to establish and maintain a framework for voluntarism.
The classical liberal considers it a terrible departure from the proper role of
the state to assign it the job of reconstituting mankind. Because of this,
classical liberal theory will consider it just as necessary to insist on a
separation of the state from secular religion as on the more traditional separation
of the state from theistic religion. It is inconsistent with individual liberty
to politicize cultural transformation.
There
has been some ambivalence about the direction toward which the intellectual
should reform mankind. The intellectual has often wanted to remake mankind in
his own image. This has been apparent in the utopias of Theobald and Bellamy
and perhaps also of Reich. At other times, though, the intellectual has just
settled for a hierarchical order in which he would be on top -- as in the visions
of Plato and Comte.
The Effect on Classical
Liberalism
The
"alienation of the intellectual” is important in its own right. We have
been studying it for its visible consequences. But if we look beyond these, we
see that there has been a negative, a void, created by the presence of the
alienation that has also been of great significance. Certain needed features of
our civilization have been absent because of the alienation. By itself, this is
of great significance. What is missing
from a period of history is often as important as what is present.
As
Western civilization emerged from superstition into reason and. science, and
from hierarchical political and cultural domination into a "rising of the
multitudes," it urgently needed a philosophy appropriate to the new
setting. Classical liberalism took great strides toward becoming such a
philosophy. It attacked the Mercantilist worldview that equated liberty with
chaos, and in its place presented a rationale for an economy in which a
harmonious division of labor could lead to increasing productivity and
well-being through a nexus of contractual exchange. The early emphasis was on
economics and politics -- so much so that classical liberalism and classical
economics were largely the same. Beyond this, it adopted at first the outlook
of the Enlightenment and shared in the rationalistic perspective of the
eighteenth century. As intellectual modes changed, it changed too; the natural
rights emphasis gave way to the utilitarian emphasis, with Bentham and James
Mill leading the way; and when later in the century the prevailing fascination
was with evolutionary conceptions, Herbert Spencer translated classical liberal
values into that idiom.
It
would have been extremely beneficial if this philosophy of freedom had
continued to be the direction of modern thought. Much that is constructive
could have been accomplished by a philosophical consensus that would have been
consistent with the values of the broad new "bourgeoisie" and at the
same time sensitive to the spiritual needs of the time. But instead, the actual
developments have been disappointing. In America, there was no suitable mind to
replace Jefferson after he was gone. Emerson might have done it, but his mind
was already reacting to the incipient alienation and to influences that were
incompatible with classical liberalism. In England, the mantle fell to John
Stuart Mill. He might have accomplished the needed integration if his mind had
been a shade tougher, his powers a bit greater and his scope a few degrees
broader. He had an open, receptive mind that was able to reach out to see the
partial truths that were contained in competing philosophies, so he was the one
who came closest to adapting the central lessons of classical liberalism,
conservatism and socialism. But the ultimate product of his thought on social
philosophy didn't succeed in making these elements a cohesive, far-reaching
affirmation of a free society. Neither Utilitarianism nor On
Liberty accomplishes this. More toughness would have brought him deeper
into his own classical liberal origins and might have led him to affirm them
more forcefully, so that he would have been shielded from his eventual
flirtation with socialism. Somewhat greater powers might have made it possible
for him to state in more satisfactory terms the principles of a free society
and, also, of utilitarianism. A broader scope (which I would like him to have
had despite his already open-ranging mind) might have suggested to him the need
for a more complete discussion of the spiritual, intellectual and cultural
requirements of the new "mass man" whom he already knew to be
present.
But
it is probable that even if Emerson and John Stuart Mill had been thoroughly
suited to the demands of a fully adequate classical liberalism their voices
would have been drowned out by the surge of the intellectual community to the
left. It would be superficial to believe that the direction of modern thought
lay so fatefully in just two men. If the main body of intellectuals had not
gone to the left, the fuller, more comprehensive classical liberalism would
have come about in any case.
But
since the shift was to the left, a more adequate formulation of classical
liberalism would probably have been ignored. And the determinants of whether
such a shift was to occur were only partly intellectual.
Whatever
the responsibility of individual thinkers, the drain of resources to the left
had the effect of weakening the intellectual supports of capitalism and
classical liberalism. There was a drain of intellectual talent that has
weakened the formulation and articulation of classical liberal thought. The
import of this is that modern Western civilization has been left without an
appropriate head and heart. It has had to get by without an intellectuality appropriate
to itself. The absence of this intellectuality has deeply affected the
development of the institutions of modern society. It has also had an impact on
the cultural and spiritual questions that have remained so pressingly open, and
on the theory of classical liberalism itself. And finally, it has reacted back
on the Left, reinforcing its alienation.
There
are a number of areas in which classical liberalism has remained immature
because of this drain of intellectual resources. One of them has to do with
monetary theory and the trade cycle. This is a crucial issue both for economics
as a science and for capitalism as a working system. Classical liberal theory
is split between the advocates of the gold standard, as perhaps supplemented by
a system of "free banking," and the advocates of central monetary
management guided by a "Rule of Law" standard. Ludwig von Mises ranks as a leading proponent of the first, Milton
Friedman of the second. Because of the statement of these widely varying
positions, it would be possible to say that the theoretical aspects have been
covered; but that would obscure the total lack of follow-up discussion that
should have occurred relative to each theory. Instead of there being a vigorous
intellectual community developing each, working out its nuances and comparing
it with the other, the theories have existed virtually still-born. In the
meantime, the practical direction of American economic institutions has for
many years been led off at angles that haven't been conceived or rationalized
in terms of classical liberal values and priorities. The disturbing thing about
this divergence between sound theory and practice is that there is now almost a
total lack of theory giving a classical liberal critique of the practice. As it
has become more evident that the Keynesianism of recent years hasn't been able
to limit inflation and at the same time keep unemployment in check, serious
writing has emerged from a socialist point of view suggesting that the federal
government be made an "employer of last resort" to hire anybody who
hasn't gotten a job in the private sector.
[Note in 2003: I will publish to this Web site a book I wrote in
1998 in which I express the view that the enormous displacement of work by
globalization and non-labor-intensive technology will force classical
liberalism to adopt what is in effect a “guaranteed annual wage” (through the
shared ownership of industry). The
passage here shows that I have opposed such a thing under the conditions of the
world as it existed prior to computers, biotechnology and robotics. It has been with considerable regret that I
have seen the necessity of reformulating classical liberal economic theory to
meet the rapidly approaching displacement of work. See my book The Emerging Crisis of Economic
Displacement: What a Free Society Must Do About It on this Web site.] There
has been very little offsetting literature, though, analyzing the problem from
a classical liberal perspective.14 Many difficult issues, both in
the popular arena and in the quieter domain of scholarly reflection, are going
by default at this point in the twentieth century. Although not always to the
same extent, the lack of intellectual resources has been present in Europe for
perhaps a century and in the United States for a century and a half. Classical
liberal thought receded before it had reached a full flowering.
The
same is true when we consider the question of economic concentration and the
associated issue of anti-trust. Classical liberalism is again split: some feel
that concentration is no real problem in a free market, that it is due mainly
if not exclusively to collusion with government, and that it can best be met by
a simple laissez-faire policy that will remove all government
intervention; others, though, feel that concentration is a genuine problem both
theoretically and practically in a free society, that it is a threat to some
important classical liberal values and (even though they dislike the ambiguity
and capriciousness of anti-trust law as we know it) that it should be
restrained by law. Again, this is a disagreement that under certain
circumstances could reflect intellectual vitality. But in fact the two schools
aren't locked in vigorous discussion. Even though the difference is unresolved,
the debate is dormant.
Monetary
policy and anti-trust are just two examples. There are a great many public
issues that would benefit from a larger and more active classical liberal
intellectuality, especially if that intellectuality enjoyed the means that are
available through the institutions of higher learning. Things would be very
different if there were professors and graduate assistants in significant
numbers reviewing from a classical liberal point of view the "energy
crisis," consumer protection, ecology, the operation of the courts, urban
renewal, the welfare program, city planning and all of the countless other
processes and issues of contemporary life. It is here that the intellectual
vacuum is most telling. The cumulative loss is immense.
Another
aspect that suffers has to do with the fundamental theoretical questions that
underlie classical liberalism itself. If we survey the metaphysical foundations
for the various forms of classical liberal theory and the types of ethical
methodology they use, we see that these aren't satisfactorily settled. It is
true, of course, that these aren't well settled in any philosophy, but the
failure just illustrates the cosmic immaturity of the human race in our
century. I would hope that a deeper form of classical liberalism would resolve
these questions despite their evident difficulty. In my article in Religion
and Society in February 1970, I urged classical liberals to adopt a secular
concern for the basic spiritual and metaphysical questions. Classical
liberalism has barely touched these matters in any depth. They can be an
extremely fruitful source of future study.
This
is linked with an associated problem. Until now, classical liberalism has
largely been oblivious to the great cultural, spiritual, existential questions
that are inherent in modern, secular life. Every other philosophy has had much
to say on these matters of lifestyle and meaning (usually to castigate the
middle class and commercial civilization). If a free society is to meet these
issues appropriately, it needs an intellectuality that will both remain loyal
to its values and be sensitive to its failures. The cultural issue has in my
opinion been of greater importance than the economic and political issues,
which have been more symptomatic. If the intellectual void in American culture
is to be overcome, what is needed is a classical liberal intellectuality that
understands Rousseau and Veblen and Charles Reich -- and will address itself to
that part of their perspective that has raised genuine questions about the
meaningfulness of everyday life. Commercial society does in fact have its
spiritual defects. The defenders of that society, not its enemies, should have
the most to say about them.
Many
fine intellectuals have contributed to classical liberalism -- but far fewer
than have contributed to the Left or than have been needed.
Because
of the loss of nourishment and renewal, classical liberalism has often been
fragmented, dormant and atrophied, defensive and dogmatically apologetic. It
has been a philosophy in extremis. The current preoccupation of many of
its devotees with anarcho-capitalism is symptomatic. It reflects the loss of
touch with social reality and responsibility that occurs when a cause is
assumed by its supporters to be hopeless and only self-justification is left.
In much of classical liberalism's writing during the past century there has
been a narrow and doctrinaire defensiveness; this has affected both its
soundness and its effectiveness. The fragmentation is evident in the
unwillingness of the various factions to entertain the ideas of the others; it
is as though each were hermetically sealed in its rightness. Accordingly, even
though there is still much that is valuable in its writing, the movement is in
far from a healthy, vital condition.
The
problem is in its center, at its intellectual heart. It is true that it needs
more of a popularizing literature and more political action, just as it needs
more of everything; but the fundamental need is for a resurgence of serious
intellectual work of the finest sort. Whether it obtains this work and the many
other supports it needs will depend upon whether the civilization within which
we live will be able to witness a cultural integration of its intellectuality.
The split between the intellectual and the bourgeoisie will have to be
overcome. Whether this occurs will depend only in part upon the efforts of
intellectuals who see the need for it; it will depend even more upon the future
direction of unconscious, unplanned determinants that will either augment or
reverse the causes of the alienation.
NOTES
1. See
Joseph B. Gittler, Social Thought Among the Early Greeks (Athens, Ga.:
University of Georgia Press, 1941), pp. 150-157.
2.
Ludwig von Mises, The Historical Setting of the Austrian School of Economics
(New Rochelle: Arlington House, 1969), pp. 33-34.
3. Eric
Hoffer, The Ordeal of Change (New York: Perennial Library, 1963), p. 39.
4.
Herbert Marcuse, One-Dimensional Man (Boston: Beacon Press, 1964), pp.
256-257; also, An Essay on Liberation (Boston: Beacon
Press, 1969), pp. 56, 58.
5. F.
A. Hayek, The Intellectual and Socialism (Menlo Park: Institute for
Humane Studies, Inc., 1949), p. 5.
6. Eric
Goldman, Rendezvous With Destiny (New York: Vintage Books, no date), p.
123.
7.
James D. Richardson (ed.), A Compilation of the Messages and Papers of the
Presidents (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1896), Vo1.
III, pp.
294-295.
8.
Martin Van Buren, Autobiography (Washington: Government Printing Office,
1920), p. 137.
9.
Henry David Thoreau, Walden-Essay on Civil Disobedience (New York:
Airmont Publishing Company, Inc., 1965), pp. 237, 251.
10.
Robert Payne, The Terrorists (New York: Funk & Wagnalls Company),
pp. 21-27.
11.
Henry May, The Discontent of the Intellectuals: A Problem of the Twenties
(Chicago: Rand McNally, 1963), pp. 11, 12, 31, 17, 27, 41.
12.
Chester McArthur Destler, American Radicalism
1865-1901 (New York: Octagon Books, 1946), p. 86.
13.
May, Discontent, p. 31.
14.
Gottfried Haberler's Economic Growth and Stability (Los Angeles: Nash
Publishing Co., 1974) may be such a book.