Classic Political Philosophy for the Modern Man

by Andrew Lynn

  Let us, then, take into account the actual facts of life, and not be misled into following any proposal for achieving the millennium, for re-creating the golden age, until we have subjected it to hardheaded examination. On the other hand, it is foolish to reject a proposal merely because it is advanced by visionaries. If a given scheme is proposed, look at it on its merits, and, in considering it, disregard formulas. It does not matter in the least who proposes it, or why. If it seems good, try it. If it proves good, accept it; otherwise reject it. There are plenty of men calling themselves socialists with whom, up to a certain point, it is quite possible to work. If the next step is one which both we and they wish to take, why of course take it, without any regard to the fact that our views as to the tenth step may differ. But, on the other hand, keep clearly in mind that, though it has been worthwhile to take one step, this does not in the least mean that it may not be highly disadvantageous to take the next. It is just as foolish to refuse all progress because people demanding it desire at some points to go to absurd extremes, as it would be to go to these absurd extremes simply because some of the measures advocated by the extremists were wise.

  The good citizen will demand liberty for himself, and as a matter of pride he will see to it that others receive the liberty which he thus claims as his own. Probably the best test of true love of liberty in any country is the way in which minorities are treated in that country. Not only should there be complete liberty in matters of religion and opinion, but complete liberty for each man to lead his life as he desires, provided only that in so doing he does not wrong his neighbor. Persecution is bad because it is persecution, and without reference to which side happens at the moment to be the persecutor and which the persecuted. Class hatred is bad in just the same way, and without any regard to the individual who, at a given time, substitutes loyalty to a class for loyalty to the nation, or substitutes hatred of men because they happen to come in a certain social category, for judgment awarded them according to their conduct. Remember always that the same measure of condemnation should be extended to the arrogance which would look down upon or crush any man because he is poor and to the envy and hatred which would destroy a man because he is wealthy. The overbearing brutality of the man of wealth or power, and the envious and hateful malice directed against wealth or power, are really at root merely different manifestations of the same quality, merely the two sides of the same shield. The man who, if born to wealth and power, exploits and ruins his less fortunate brethren is at heart the same as the greedy and violent demagogue who excites those who have not property to plunder those who have. The gravest wrong upon his country is inflicted by that man, whatever his station, who seeks to make his countrymen divide primarily on the line that separates class from class, occupation from occupation, men of more wealth from men of less wealth, instead of remembering that the only safe standard is that which judges each man on his worth as a man, whether he be rich or poor, without regard to his profession or to his station in life. Such is the only true democratic test, the only test that can with propriety be applied in a republic. There have been many republics in the past, both in what we call antiquity and in what we call the Middle Ages. They fell, and the prime factor in their fall was the fact that the parties tended to divide along the line that separates wealth from poverty. It made no difference which side was successful; it made no difference whether the republic fell under the rule of an oligarchy or the rule of a mob. In either case, when once loyalty to a class had been substituted for loyalty to the republic, the end of the republic was at hand. There is no greater need today than the need to keep ever in mind the fact that the cleavage between right and wrong, between good citizenship and bad citizenship, runs at right angles to, and not parallel with, the lines of cleavage between class and class, between occupation and occupation. Ruin looks us in the face if we judge a man by his position instead of judging him by his conduct in that position.

  In a republic, to be successful we must learn to combine intensity of conviction with a broad tolerance of difference of conviction. Wide differences of opinion in matters of religious, political, and social belief must exist if conscience and intellect alike are not to be stunted, if there is to be room for healthy growth. Bitter internecine hatreds, based on such differences, are signs, not of earnestness of belief, but of that fanaticism which, whether religious or anti-religious, democratic or anti-democratic, is itself but a manifestation of the gloomy bigotry which has been the chief factor in the downfall of so many, many nations.

  Of one man in especial, beyond any one else, the citizens of a republic should beware, and that is of the man who appeals to them to support him on the ground that he is hostile to other citizens of the republic, that he will secure for those who elect him, in one shape or another, profit at the expense of other citizens of the republic. It makes no difference whether he appeals to class hatred or class interest, to religious or anti-religious prejudice. The man who makes such an appeal should always be presumed to make it for the sake of furthering his own interest. The very last thing that an intelligent and self-respecting member of a democratic community should do is to reward any public man because that public man says he will get the private citizen something to which this private citizen is not entitled, or will gratify some emotion or animosity which this private citizen ought not to possess. Let me illustrate this by one anecdote from my own experience. A number of years ago I was engaged in cattle-ranching on the great plains of the western United States. There were no fences. The cattle wandered free, the ownership of each being determined by the brand; the calves were branded with the brand of the cows they followed. If on the round-up an animal was passed by, the following year it would appear as an unbranded yearling, and was then called a maverick. By the custom of the country these mavericks were branded with the brand of the man on whose range they were found. One day I was riding the range with a newly hired cowboy, and we came upon a maverick. We roped and threw it; then we built a little fire, took out a cinch-ring, heated it at the fire; and the cowboy started to put on the brand. I said to him, ‘It is So-and-so’s brand,’ naming the man on whose range we happened to be. He answered: ‘That’s all right, boss; I know my business.’ In another moment I said to him: ‘Hold on, you are putting on my brand!’ To which he answered: ‘That’s all right; I always put on the boss’s brand.’ I answered: ‘Oh, very well. Now you go straight back to the ranch and get what is owing to you; I don’t need you any longer.’ He jumped up and said: ‘Why, what’s the matter? I was putting on your brand.’ And I answered: ‘Yes, my friend, and if you will steal for me you will steal from me.’

  Now, the same principle which applies in private life applies also in public life. If a public man tries to get your vote by saying that he will do something wrong in your interest, you can be absolutely certain that if ever it becomes worth his while he will do something wrong against your interest.

  So much for the citizenship of the individual in his relations to his family, to his neighbour, to the state. There remain duties of citizenship which the state, the aggregation of all the individuals, owes in connection with other states, with other nations. Let me say at once that I am no advocate of a foolish cosmopolitanism. I believe that a man must be a good patriot before he can be, and as the only possible way of being, a good citizen of the world. Experience teaches us that the average man who protests that his international feeling swamps his national feeling, that he does not care for his country because he cares so much for mankind, in actual practice proves himself the foe of mankind; that the man who says that he does not care to be a citizen of any one country, because he is a citizen of the world, is in very fact usually an exceedingly undesirable citizen of whatever corner of the world he happens at the moment to be in. In the dim future all moral needs and moral standards may change; but at present, if a man can view his own country and all other countries from the same level with tepid indifference, it is wise to distrust him, just as it is wise to distr
ust the man who can take the same dispassionate view of his wife and his mother. However broad and deep a man’s sympathies, however intense his activities, he need have no fear that they will be cramped by love of his native land.

  Now, this does not mean in the least that a man should not wish to do good outside of his native land. On the contrary, just as I think that the man who loves his family is more apt to be a good neighbour than the man who does not, so I think that the most useful member of the family of nations is normally a strongly patriotic nation. So far from patriotism being inconsistent with a proper regard for the rights of other nations, I hold that the true patriot, who is as jealous of the national honor as a gentleman is of his own honor, will be careful to see that the nation neither inflicts nor suffers wrong, just as a gentleman scorns equally to wrong others or to suffer others to wrong him. I do not for one moment admit that political morality is different from private morality, that a promise made on the stump differs from a promise made in private life. I do not for one moment admit that a man should act deceitfully as a public servant in his dealings with other nations, any more than that he should act deceitfully in his dealings as a private citizen with other private citizens. I do not for one moment admit that a nation should treat other nations in a different spirit from that in which an honorable man would treat other men.

  In practically applying this principle to the two sets of cases there is, of course, a great practical difference to be taken into account. We speak of international law; but international law is something wholly different from private or municipal law, and the capital difference is that there is a sanction for the one and no sanction for the other; that there is an outside force which compels individuals to obey the one, while there is no such outside force to compel obedience as regards the other. International law will, I believe, as the generations pass, grow stronger and stronger until in some way or other there develops the power to make it respected. But as yet it is only in the first formative period. As yet, as a rule, each nation is of necessity obliged to judge for itself in matters of vital importance between it and its neighbors, and actions must of necessity, where this is the case, be different from what they are where, as among private citizens, there is an outside force whose action is all-powerful and must be invoked in any crisis of importance. It is the duty of wise statesmen, gifted with the power of looking ahead, to try to encourage and build up every movement which will substitute or tend to substitute some other agency for force in the settlement of international disputes. It is the duty of every honest statesman to try to guide the nation so that it shall not wrong any other nation. But as yet the great civilized peoples, if they are to be true to themselves and to the cause of humanity and civilization, must keep ever in mind that in the last resort they must possess both the will and the power to resent wrongdoing from others. The men who sanely believe in a lofty morality preach righteousness; but they do not preach weakness, whether among private citizens or among nations. We believe that our ideals should be high, but not so high as to make it impossible measurably to realize them. We sincerely and earnestly believe in peace; but if peace and justice conflict, we scorn the man who would not stand for justice though the whole world came in arms against him.

  And now, my hosts, a word in parting. You and I belong to the only two republics among the great powers of the world. The ancient friendship between France and the United States has been, on the whole, a sincere and disinterested friendship. A calamity to you would be a sorrow to us. But it would be more than that. In the seething turmoil of the history of humanity certain nations stand out as possessing a peculiar power or charm, some special gift of beauty or wisdom or strength, which puts them among the immortals, which makes them rank forever with the leaders of mankind. France is one of these nations. For her to sink would be a loss to all the world. There are certain lessons of brilliance and of generous gallantry that she can teach better than any of her sister nations. When the French peasantry sang of Malbrook,[2] it was to tell how the soul of this warrior-foe took flight upward through the laurels he had won. Nearly seven centuries ago, Froissart, writing of a time of dire disaster, said that the realm of France was never so stricken that there were not left men who would valiantly fight for it. You have had a great past. I believe that you will have a great future. Long may you carry yourselves proudly as citizens of a nation which bears a leading part in the teaching and uplifting of mankind.

  * * *

  The Sorbonne. ↵

  ‘Malbrook s'en va-t-en guerre’ (‘Marlborough Has Left for the War’) is a lament on the death of John Churchill, 1st Duke of Marlborough (1650–1722), written on a false rumour of that event after the Battle of Malplaquet in 1709, that tells how his wife, awaiting his return from battle, is given the news of her husband's death, how he was buried, and how a nightingale sang over his grave. ↵

  Conclusion

  In ‘The Country of the Blind’, H.G. Wells tells a tale rich in implication for those who detect in the dominant political narratives of today at best a kind of smug complacency that ‘all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds’, and at worst a kind of deliberate closed-mindedness intent on shutting down dialogue on the most pressing issues of our day.

  * * *

  The tale tells of a mountaineer, Nunez, who while climbing a mountain in the Ecuadorian Andes slips down a snow-slope into an isolated valley, cut off from the world by an earthquake that reshaped the surrounding mountains. All the inhabitants of the valley suffer from a hereditary disease rendering them blind at birth; they have adapted to life without sight and their other senses have sharpened. Nunez thinks that as the only sighted human being in the valley he will naturally be in a position to rule over them, but in fact they have no concept of sight and cannot understand his attempts to explain it to them. When he falls in love with and seeks to marry a local girl, the village elders refuse him, on the basis of his ‘unstable’ obsession with ‘sight’; the village doctor, equally uncomprehending, advises that his eyes be removed because they are diseased and put his brain into ‘a state of constant irritation and distraction’. Nunez consents, but at sunrise the next day he heads into the mountains, hoping to find a passage to the outside world. In Wells’ revised 1939 version of the tale, Nunez sees from a distance that there is about to be a rock slide that will destroy the village. He attempts to warn the villagers, but they scoff at his ‘imagined’ sight and abuse him as a heretic. He leaves them to their impending demise, taking with him the local girl with whom he has fallen in love.

  * * *

  Assume, if you will, that our philosophers could observe us from a distance, blind without knowing it—complacent and conventional in our own unacknowledged prejudices—while all around us the foundations of our civilizational order are beginning to fracture and come apart.

  What would they be shouting from the mountaintops down into the valleys?

  * * *

  Entertain a more expansive notion of ‘justice’. That’s Plato’s idea of justice as ‘all-in rightness’. All-in rightness means cultivating a balanced and harmonious inner state while taking up one’s proper place and proper function in society; true justice, for ourselves and others, comes from engaging in the work that is best for us in allowing us to exercise our faculties in the service of the community as a whole. Insofar as we can approximate the ideal state of being governed by a highly cultivated, self-disciplined, and responsible elite, we are right to have expectations of excellence of the individuals comprising it, and we are right to subject those persons to the very strictest of codes of conduct. Insofar as many of us now live under governments that are, on the other hand, at least notionally democratic, let us pay attention to the factors that tend to corrupt such regimes, not least when certain segments of the population seek to ‘squeeze’ other segments, paving the way for tyrannical regimes that take advantage of public discontent to everybody’s detriment.

  Remember that the proper end of political socie
ty is the cultivation of the excellence of its members. Political society exists for the sake of enabling and facilitating the full development and ‘noble action’ of its members, not merely for physical security or economic prosperity. It is absurd to insist that each man’s achievements are his alone, owing nothing to his ancestors, his patrons, his associates, or his community. Strive for equality—but not abstract or indiscriminate equality: justice is equality for equals. Furthermore, it is not necessarily the case that equality or inequality must prevail uniformly across all aspects of life. In a democracy, we can be equal in some respects without having to be equal in all respects, just as under an oligarchy we can be unequal in some respects without being unequal in all. Those who push unrealistically for absolutism in this respect bring instability to the state and society. This is Aristotle.

  Accept that in the real world good men too need to master the dark arts of statecraft if they are to survive and prevail. If we want political change for the better we cannot be overly fastidious: we need our leaders to ‘know how to do wrong’—judiciously, of course, and in the interests of the state—since no wholly virtuous politician would be likely to hold onto power long. We also need to disillusion ourselves as to the true nature of political activity: forget what politicians say about their motives; look instead at what they do, and ask cui bono—who benefits? This is Machiavelli.

  Appreciate and take advantage of the benefits that political organization brings. Life in the state of nature is ‘solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short’—that’s Hobbes. Absolute authority is the price we may have to pay and it is not necessarily too high a price: there is a reason why monarchies have been one of the preferred forms of government, and that is, at least in part, because the identity between monarch and state means that the monarch will have every interest in enriching it and can have no interest in harming it. Harmful indeed, however, are factional and partisan pressure groups that are able to take advantage of a divided legislature to advance interests that enrich and empower certain group or tribal interests at the expense of the nation as a whole.