Better than any other liberal, Tocqueville understood the importance of ensuring that the collective business of society is done as much as possible by the people themselves, through voluntary effort, rather than by the government.
In line with its name, The Economist has been presenting six primers on the foundations and evolution of liberal thought, from John Stuart Mill to John Rawls, the latest an essay on De Tocqueville and the French exception. (Merci à Sarah pour l'Instalien.)
The great question at the heart of Tocqueville’s thought is the relationship between liberty and democracy. Tocqueville was certain that it was impossible to have liberty without democracy, but he worried that it was possible to have democracy without liberty. For example, democracy might transfer power from the old aristocracy to an all-powerful central state, thereby reducing individuals to helpless, isolated atoms. Or it might make a mockery of free discussion by manipulating everybody into bowing down before conventional wisdom. … he was the first serious thinker to warn that liberalism could destroy itself. Tocqueville worried that states might use the principle of equality to accumulate power and ride roughshod over local traditions and local communities. Such centralisation might have all sorts of malign consequences. It might reduce the variety of institutions by obliging them to follow a central script. It might reduce individuals to a position of defencelessness before the mighty state, either by forcing them to obey the state’s edicts or making them dependent on the state’s largesse. And it might kill off traditions of self-government.
… Tocqueville feared his own country might fall into the grip of just such an illiberal democracy, as it had in the Terror, under Maximilien Robespierre in 1793. The French revolutionaries had been so blinded by their commitment to liberty, equality and fraternity that they crushed dissenters and slaughtered aristocrats, including many members of Tocqueville’s family. His parents were spared, but his father’s hair turned white at 24 and his mother was reduced to a nervous wreck.
He was worried about more than just the bloodshed, which proved to be a passing frenzy. The power of the state also posed a more subtle threat. The monarchy had nurtured an over-mighty state, as French kings sucked power from aristocrats towards the central government. … By contrast, the United States represented democracy at its finest. Tocqueville’s ostensible reason for crossing the Atlantic, in 1831, was to study the American penal system, then seen as one of the most enlightened in the world. His real wish was to understand how America had combined democracy with liberty so successfully. He was impressed by the New England townships, with their robust local governments, but he was equally taken by the raw egalitarianism of the frontier.Why did the children of the American revolution achieve what the children of the French revolution could not? The most obvious factor was the dispersal of power. The government in Washington was disciplined by checks and balances. Power was exercised at the lowest possible level—not just the states but also cities, townships and voluntary organisations that flourished in America even as they declined in France. The second factor was what he called “manners”. … …
Of liberty and religion America also had the invaluable advantage of freedom of religion. Tocqueville believed that a liberal society depended ultimately on Christian morality. Alone among the world’s religions, Christianity preached the equality of man and the infinite worth of the individual. But the ancien régime had robbed Christianity of its true spirit by turning it into an adjunct of the state. America’s decision to make religion a matter of free conscience created a vital alliance between the “spirit of religion” and the “spirit of liberty”. America was a society that “goes along by itself”, as Tocqueville put it, not just because it dispersed power but because it produced self-confident, energetic citizens, capable of organising themselves rather than looking to the government to solve their problems.
Sleeping on a volcano He was not blind to the faults of American democracy. He puzzled over the fact that the world’s most liberal society practised slavery, though, like most liberals, he comforted himself with the thought that it was sure to wither. He worried about the cult of the common man. Americans were so appalled by the idea that one person’s opinion might be better than another’s that they embraced dolts and persecuted gifted heretics. He worried that individualism might shade into egotism. … Increasingly, China embodies everything that Tocqueville warned against: power centralised in the hands of the state; citizens reduced to atoms; a collective willingness to sacrifice liberty for a comfortable life.
The full collection
6 comments:
I read the introductory essay and will take the time to read the individual primers. It is an important essay - primarily because it will be widely read by mid-brow members of the elite class in the Anglosphere (such as remains of it) who have never actually read any of the writers discussed (and may or may not read the actual primers). The bits covering the 18th and 19th centuries (save Marx and maybe Nietzsche) read like they could have been written by any Whig historian and represent more or less the standard mid-20th century liberal of political scientists. Where things get trickier is the 20th century: Keynes’ association with socialist circles at Cambridge and his overall collectivism (not to mention underlying utilitarianism) are elided, while Hayek and Schumpeter are treated semi-dismissively. Berlin’s Marxist roots are ignored. Rather a bit too much pas d’enemie au gauche. Popper has been a figure as misappropriated as Nietzsche. The hagiography of Rawls and dismissal of Nozick as ‘American’ is SO classic modern liberalism that it can only be credible to someone who hasn’t actually read Rawls and Nozick. And there is nothing good which can be said for the discussions of the later leftists, such as the Frankfurt school Marcuse and his epigoni.
If only the essay and the primers, would inspire readers to actually read the writers discussed, they would be worth their weight in gold. Having done that in the ‘60s and ‘70s in the course of a PhD in European intellectual history, an MA in economics, with side trips into political philosophy and the philosophy of history, it is relatively easy to know where The Economist writers are coming from. Without a fair reading of the actual thinkers, especially those who inspired the Founders, and those who laid the ground work for modern economics, one is all too apt to take The Economist’s essayist(s) at face value. That would be a mistake.
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