Political debate and argument can never be confined to cloistered academics, because political theories are concerned ultimately with reshaping and remodel-ling the world itself. Change lies at the very heart of politics. Many would sympathize, for instance, with Marx’s assertion in ‘Theses on Feuerbach’ ([1845] 1968) that, ‘The philosophers have only interpreted the world, in various ways; the point, however, is to change it.’ This concluding chapter examines the difficult questions that arise from the issue of change, and from the inevitable linkage in politics between theory and practice.Yet the desire to change the world raises a number of difficult questions.
In the first place, is change desirable? Does change involve growth or decline, progress or decay; should it be welcomed or resisted? Some have turned their faces firmly against change in the name of tradition and continuity. But this has meant anything from an acceptance of ‘natural’ change to the desire to return to an earlier, simpler time. Such traditionalist views, however, became increasingly unfashionable as the modern idea of progress took root.This implies that human history is marked by an advance in knowledge and the achievement of ever-higher levels of civilization: all change is for the good. Nevertheless, even if change is to be welcomed, what form should it take? This has usually been posed as a choice between two contrasting notions of change: reform or revolution. Whether they are reformist or revolutionary, projects of social or political change have tended to be based upon a model of a desired future society. The most radical such projects have looked, ultimately, to the construction of a perfect society, a utopia. But which political doctrines contain a potential for utopianism? More importantly, is utopian thinking vital for the success of any progressive po-litical project, or is it a recipe for repression and even totalitarianism?
Tradition
Tradition, in the words of Edward Shils (1981), encompasses ‘anything transmitted or handed down from the past to the present’. Therefore, anything from long-standing customs and practices to an institution, political or social system, or a body of beliefs, can be regarded as a tradition. However, it may be very difficult to determine precisely how long a belief, practice or institution has to survive before it can be regarded as a tradition. Traditions have usually been thought to denote continuity between generations, things that have been transmitted from one generation to the next, but the line between the traditional and the merely fashionable is often indistinct. Whereas the Christian religion is undoubtedly a tradition, having endured for two thousand years, may the same be said of industrial capitalism, which dates back only to the nineteenth century, or of the welfare state, which first emerged in the early twentieth century? At what point, for instance, did universal adult suffrage become a tradition?
However, a traditionalist stance can take at least three different forms. First, and most clearly, tradition can be associated with continuity with the past, the maintenance of established ways and institutions. Tradition, in this sense, seeks to eradicate change. Second, traditionalism can involve an attempt to reclaim the past, in effect, to ‘turn the clock back’. Such a position endorses change providing it is backward-looking or regressive, a goal often inspired by the notion of a ‘Golden Age’. Third, traditionalism can recognize the need for change as a means of preservation, adopting a philosophy of ‘change in order to conserve’. This implies a belief in ‘natural’ change. If certain changes are inevitable any attempt to resist them risks precipitating more far-reaching and damaging change.
Defending the Status Quo
The ‘desire to conserve’ has been a core feature of the Anglo-American conservative tradition. Instead of advocating a lurch backwards into the past, it preaches the need for preservation, the need for continuity with the past. In essence, this amounts to a defence of the status quo, the existing state of affairs. For some, this desire to resist or avoid change is deeply rooted in human psychology. In his essay ‘Rationalism in Politics’ ([1962] 1991), for example, Michael Oakeshott argued that to be a conservative is ‘to prefer the familiar to the unknown, to prefer the tried to the untried, fact to mystery, the actual to the possible, the limited to the unbounded, the near to the distant, the sufficient to the superabundant, the convenient to the perfect, present laughter to utopian bliss’. By this, Oakeshott did not suggest that the present is in any way perfect or even that it is better than any other condition that might exist. Rather, the present is valued on account of its familiarity, a familiarity that engenders a sense of reassurance, stability and security. Change, on the other hand, will always appear threatening and uncertain: a journey into the unknown. This is why conservative theorists have usually placed so much emphasis upon the importance of custom and tradition.
Customs are long-established and habitual practices. In traditional societies which lack the formal machinery of law, custom often serves as the basis for order and social control. In developed societies, custom has sometimes been accorded the status of law itself in the form of so-called common law. In the English tradition of common law, for example, customs are recognized as having legal authority if they have existed without interruption since ‘time immemorial’, in theory since 1189 but in practice as far back as can reasonably be established. The reason why custom embodies moral and sometimes legal authority is that it is thought to reflect popular consent: people accept something as rightful because ‘it has always been that way’. Custom shapes expectations and aspirations and so helps to determine what people think is reasonable and acceptable: familiarity breeds legitimacy. This is why people’s sense of natural fairness is offended when long-established patterns of behaviour are disrupted. They appeal to ‘custom and practice’, feeling that they have a right to expect things to remain the way they have always been. Much of the defence of custom is, however, closely linked to the particular virtues of tradition.
The classic defence of tradition in the conservative tradition is found in the writings of Edmund Burke, and in particular in Reflections on the Revolution in France ([1790] 1968). Burke acknowledged that society is founded upon a contract, but not one made only by those who happen to be alive at present. In Burke’s words, society is a partnership ‘between those who are living, those who are dead and those who are to be born’. Tradition therefore reflects the accumulated wisdom of the past, beliefs and practices that have literally been ‘tested by time’ and have been proved to have worked. This is what G.K. Chesterton referred to as a ‘democracy of the dead’. If those who ‘merely happen to be walking around’ turn their backs upon tradition they are, in effect, disenfranchising earlier generations – the majority – whose contribution and understanding is simply being ignored. As what Burke called ‘the collected reason of ages’, tradition provides both the only reliable guide for present conduct and the most valuable inheritance we can pass on to future generations. From Oakeshott’s point of view, tradition not merely reflects our attach-ment to the familiar, but also ensures that social institutions work better because they operate in a context of established rules and practices.
Critics have, nevertheless, viewed custom and tradition in a very different light. Thomas Paine’s The Rights of Man ([1791–2] 1987) was written in part as a reply to Burke. Paine argued that Burke had placed ‘the authority of the dead over the rights and freedoms of the living’. In other words, to revere tradition merely on the grounds that it has long endured is to enslave the present generation to the past, condemning it to accepting the evils of the past as well as its virtues. In his view, uncritical respect for the past clearly violated modern democratic principles, the central point of which is the right of each generation to make and remake the world as it sees fit. Such a position implies that while the present generation is at liberty to learn from the past, it should not be forced to relive it.
Furthermore, the assertion that values, practices and institutions have survived only because they have worked is highly questionable. Such a view sees in human history a process of ‘natural selection’: those institutions and practices that have been of benefit to humankind are preserved, while those of little or no value have declined or become extinct. This comes down to a belief in survival of the fittest. Clearly, however, institutions and beliefs may have survived for very different reasons. For instance, they may have been preserved because they have been of benefit to powerful elites or a ruling class. This can perhaps be seen in Britain in the case of the monarchy and the House of Lords. Indeed, to foster reverence for history and tradition may simply be a means of manufactur-ing legitimacy and ensuring that the masses are pliant and quiescent. In addition, custom and tradition may be an affront to rational debate and intellectual enquiry. To revere ‘what is’ simply because it marks continuity with the past forecloses debate about ‘what could be’ and perhaps even ‘what should be’. From this perspective, tradition tends to inculcate an uncritical, unreasoned and unquestioning acceptance of the status quo and leave the mind in the thrall of the past. J.S. Mill referred to this danger as ‘the despotism of custom’.
Reclaiming the Past
A more radical form of traditionalist politics looks not to continuity and preservation, but rather embraces the idea of backward-looking change. Some, indeed, draw a clear distinction between tradition and reaction, reaction literally meaning to respond to an action or stimulus, to react. A reactionary style of politics has little to do with tradition as continuity, because tradition in this sense is concerned with the maintenance of a status quo which radical reactionaries are intent upon destroying. Far from upholding the importance of the familiar and the stable, reaction can, at times, have a revolutionary character. For example, the ‘Islamic Revolution’ in Iran in 1979 can be regarded as a reactionary revolution in that it marked a dramatic break with the immediate past, designed to prepare the way for the re-establishment of more ancient Islamic principles. This form of reaction is based upon a very clear picture of human history. Whereas traditionalism sees in history the threads of continuity, linking one generation to the next, reaction sees a process of decay and corruption. At its heart, therefore, lies the image of an earlier period in history – a Golden Age – from which point human society has steadily declined.
The call for backward-looking change clearly reflects dissatisfaction with the present, as well as distrust of the future. This style of politics, which condemns the existing state of affairs by comparing it to an idealized past, can be found in many historical periods. For example, conservatism in continental Europe exhibited a strong reactionary char-acter throughout the nineteenth century and into the twentieth. In countries such as France, Germany and Russia, conservatives remained faithful to autocratic and aristocratic principles long after these had been displaced by constitutional and representative forms of government. This was well reflected in the writings of Joseph de Maistre and in the statecraft of the early nineteenth-century Austrian chancellor, Metter-nich, both of whom rejected any concession to reformist pressures and strove instead to re-establish an ancien re´gime. Fascist doctrines in the twentieth century also tended to be backward-looking. Mussolini and the Italian Fascists, for instance, glorified the military might and political discipline of Imperial Rome. In the case of Hitler and the Nazis, this was reflected in an idealisation of the ‘First Reich’, Charlemagne’s Holy Roman Empire. Similarly, reactionary leanings can be found in the modern period in the radicalism of the New Right. In embracing the notion of the ‘frontier ideology’ in the 1980s, Ronald Reagan harked back to the conquest of the American West and the virtues of self-reliance, hard work and adventurousness which he believed it exemplified. In the UK during the same period, Margaret Thatcher extolled the importance of ‘Victorian values’ such as decency, enterprise and self-help, seeing the mid-nineteenth century as a sort of Golden Age.
The desire to ‘turn the clock back’ is based upon a simple historical comparison between the past and the present. Forward-looking or pro-gressive reform means a march into an unknown future, with all the uncertainty and insecurity which that must involve. By comparison, the past is known and understood and therefore offers a firmer foundation for remodelling the present. This does not, however, imply blind reverence for history or a determination to maintain institutions and practices simply because they have survived. On the contrary, by breaking with traditionalism, radical reactionaries can adopt a more critical and questioning attitude towards the past, taking from it what is of value to the present and leaving what is not. For example, the New Right recommends the re-establishment of laissez-faire economic principles, not on the grounds that they have been ‘sanctified by history’ but because when applied in the nineteenth century they promoted growth, innovation and individual responsibility. In the same way, if respect for the family and for traditional values did once help to create a more stable, decent and cohesive society, there is a case for renouncing the permissive morality of the present in order to reclaim the values of the past.
However, the prospect of backward-looking change can also have less favourable implications. For instance, the desire to ‘turn the clock back’ may be based upon little more than nostalgia, a yearning for a mythical past of stability and security. All too often reaction embraces a naive and romanticized image of the past, against which the present appears to be squalid, corrupt or simply charmless. The Golden Age is, at best, a selective portrait of the past and at worst a thoroughly distorted picture of what life was really like. The conquest of the American West, for example, could be linked as easily with the near-genocide of the native Americans as it is with the rugged individualism of the frontier settlers.
Equally, ‘Victorian values’ could stand for grinding poverty, the work-house and child prostitution, instead of decency, respect and a willingness to work.
The very idea of a Golden Age, a utopia located in the past, may simply reflect the desire to escape from present-day problems by seeking comfort in historical myths. Just as modern thinkers have extolled the virtues of the Victorian age, the Victorians lamented the passing of the eighteenth century. In that sense, there never was a Golden Age. Moreover, even if meaningful lessons can be learnt from the past, it is questionable whether these can be applied to the present. Historical circumstances are the product of a complex network of interconnected social, economic, cultural and political factors. To identify a particular feature of the past as admirable does not mean it would necessarily have the same character in the present, even if it could be reproduced in its original form. All institutions and ideas may be specific to the period in which they arise. For instance, although laissez-faire policies may have promoted vigorous growth, enterprise and innovation in the nineteenth century, a period of early industrialization, there is no certainty that it would have the same results if applied to a developed industrial economy.
Change in Order to Conserve
The final face of tradition is, ironically, a progressive one. Traditionalists have not always set their faces firmly against change, or only endorsed change when it has a regressive character. On some occasions they have accepted that the onward march of history is irresistible. Quite simply, to try to block inevitable change may be as pointless as King Canute’s alleged attempt to stop the flow of the tide. More seriously, blinkered traditionalism that does not recognize that at times change can be natural and inevitable runs the risk of precipitating a still more dramatic upheaval. The motto of this form of progressive conservatism is therefore that reform is preferable to revolution. This amounts to a form of enlightened traditionalism which recognizes that, though it may be desirable to preserve the status quo, an implacable resistance to change is likely to be self-defeating. It is better to be the willow that bends before the storm than the proud oak which risks being uprooted and destroyed.
This progressive form of conservatism is usually linked to the ideas of Edmund Burke. In contrast to the reactionary conservatism widely found in continental Europe, Burke argued that the French monarchy’s stubborn commitment to absolutism had helped to precipitate revolution in the first place. ‘A state without the means of some change’, Burke ([1790] 1968) proclaimed, ‘is without the means of its conservation.’ This lesson was borne out by the English monarchy which in general had survived precisely because it had been prepared to accept constitutional constraints upon its power. The ‘Glorious Revolution’ of 1688, which brought the English Revolution to an end with the establishment of a constitutional monarchy under William and Mary, was a classic example of conservative reform. Similar lessons can be learnt from the 1917 Russian Revolution. The Tsarist regime can, to some extent, be regarded as the architect of its own downfall because of its blinkered refusal to make concessions to the growing movement for political and social reform. Tsar Nicholas II’s touching but absurd faith in Divine Right and his refusal to address problems highlighted by the 1905 Revolution, helped to create the social and political conditions which Lenin and the Bolsheviks were able to exploit in 1917. Indeed, while reactionary conservatism often failed to survive the nineteenth century and was finally brought down by its association with fascism in the twentieth century, the Anglo-American tradition of Burkian conservatism has been far more successful. The philosophy of ‘change in order to conserve’ has, for example, enabled conservatives to come to terms with constitutionalism, democracy and, at times, social welfare and economic intervention.
Enlightened traditionalism is based upon a view of history which differs from both conventional traditionalism and backward-looking reaction. Traditionalism has conventionally tended to emphasize the stable and unchanging nature of human history, highlighting a continuity with the past; backward-looking reaction has a deeply pessimistic view of history, underpinned by the belief that ‘things get worse’. Enlightened traditional-ism, by contrast with the other two, is based upon the idea of inevitable change which because it is ‘natural’ is neither to be applauded nor regretted, only accepted. This suggests a view of history as being largely beyond human control and dictated by what Burke called ‘the pattern of Nature’. For Burke, such a view was closely linked to the belief that human affairs are shaped by the will of God and so are beyond the capacity of humankind to fathom. In the same way, the process of history may simply be too complex and intricate for the human mind adequately to grasp, still less to control. In other words, when the tide of history is flowing, wisdom dictates that human beings swim with it rather than try to swim against it.
Such a position has been taken up at various points in history. In the USA, for instance, commentators like Luis Hartz (1955) have suggested that no real conservative tradition can be identified. American political culture was shaped by the struggle for independence and is deeply embued with a commitment to progress, the dream of a limitless future. In such circum-stances, conservatives have often been more tolerant of change and less suspicious of reform than their European counterparts; and, lacking a feudal past or an ancien re´gime to restore, they have less easily fallen prey to Golden Age fantasies. Indeed, the term ‘conservative’ has only been widely used in US party politics since the 1960s. In Canada, the Conservative Party adopted the title Progressive Conservative precisely in order to demonstrate its reforming credentials and distance itself from the image of unthinking reaction. The UK tradition of progressive conservatism is usually traced back to Disraeli in the nineteenth century, the so-called One Nation tradition. It reached its peak in the 1950s as the Conservative Party accepted the social-democratic reforms of the Attlee Labour govern-ment. In continental Europe since 1945, a reformist stance has been adopted by Christian-Democratic parties that have attempted to balance a commit-ment to free enterprise against the need for welfare and social justice.
However, even when it is intended to conserve, change can create difficulties for a conservative. In the first place, there is the problem of distinguishing between ‘natural’ changes, which if not to be welcomed should at least be accepted, and other forms of change which should still be resisted. This is a much simpler task to accomplish, as Burke did, with the advantage of hindsight. It is much easier to point out that the failure to introduce prudent reform was likely to lead to violent revolution after that revolution has occurred. Quite clearly, it is much more difficult at the time to know which of the many changes being demanded are resistible and which ones are irresistible. A further problem is that, far from promoting stability and contentment, reform may pave the way for more radical change. In some respects, abject poverty is more likely to generate resignation and apathy than revolutionary fervour. On the other hand, improving political or social conditions may heighten expectations and stimulate the appetite for change. This is perhaps what happened in the Soviet Union in the late 1980s, when Gorbachev’s reforms merely succeeded in hastening the demise of the regime itself by highlighting the deficiencies of central planning and allowing criticism and protest to be more widely expressed.
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