Political Concept : Order

Fear of disorder and social instability has been perhaps the most fundamental and abiding concern of Western political philosophy. Dating back to the social contract theories of the seventeenth century, political thinkers have grappled with the problem of order and sought ways of preventing human existence degenerating into chaos and confusion. Without order and stability, human life would, in Hobbes’s words, be ‘solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short’. Such fears are also evident in the everyday use of the word ‘anarchy’ to imply disorder, chaos and violence. For these reasons, order has attracted almost unqualified approval from political theorists, at least in so far as none of them are prepared to defend ‘disorder’. At the same time, however, the term order conjures up very different images for different political thinkers. At one extreme, traditional conservatives believe that order is inseparable from notions like control, discipline and obedience; at the other, anarchists have suggested that order is related to natural harmony, equilibrium and balance. Such ideological divisions reflect profound disagreement not only about the concept of order but also about how it can be established and how it should be maintained.

While there may be competing conceptions of order, certain common characteristics can nevertheless be identified. Order, in everyday language, refers to regular and tidy patterns, as when soldiers are said to stand ‘in order’ or the universe is described as being ‘ordered’. In social life, order describes regular, stable and predictable forms of behaviour, for which reason social order suggests continuity, even permanence. Social disorder, by contrast, implies chaotic, random and violent behaviour, that is by its very nature unstable and constantly changing. Above all, the virtue that is associated with order is personal security, both physical security, freedom from intimidation and violence and the fear of such, and psychological security, the comfort and stability which only regular and familiar circumstances engender.

Discipline and Control

Order is often linked to the ideas of discipline, regulation and authority. In this sense, order comes to stand for a form of social control which has, in some way, to be imposed ‘from above’. Social order has to be imposed because, quite simply, it does not occur naturally. All notions of order are based upon a conception of disorder and of the forces that cause it. What causes delinquency, vandalism, crime and social unrest? Those who believe that order is impossible without the exercise of control or discipline usually locate the roots of disorder in the individual human being. In other words, human beings are naturally corrupt, and if not restrained or controlled they will behave in an anti-social and uncivilized fashion. Such ideas are sometimes religious in origin, as in the case of the Christian doctrine of ‘original sin’. In other cases, they are explained by the belief that human beings are essentially self-seeking or egoistical. If left to their own devices, individuals act to further their own interests or ends, and will do so at the expense of fellow human beings. One of the most pessimistic such accounts of human nature is found in the writings of absolutist thinkers such as Thomas Hobbes, who in Leviathan ([1651] 1968) described the principal human inclination as ‘a perpetual and restless desire for power after power, that ceaseth only in death’. This explains why his description of the state of nature is so graphic. In his view, its dominant feature would be war, a barbaric and unending war of ‘every man against every man’.

The traditional conservative conception of order has been deeply influenced by this pessimistic view of human nature. Conservatives have, for example, typically shown very little patience for attempts to explain crime by reference to poverty or social deprivation. Crime, and for that matter most other forms of anti-social behaviour – hooliganism, vandal-ism, delinquency and even plain rudeness – is nothing more than an individual phenomenon reflecting the moral corruption that lies within each human being. The criminal is therefore a morally ‘bad’ person, and deserves to be treated as such. This is why conservatives tend to see an intrinsic link between the notions of order and law, and are inclined to refer to the fused concept of law-and-order. In effect, public order is quite unthinkable without clearly enforced laws. Conservatives are therefore often in the forefront of campaigns to strengthen the powers of the police and calls for stiffer penalties against criminals and vandals. This was evident in the case of the UK Conservative Party, especially during the Thatcher and Major period. In the USA, a succession of presidents placed a heavy stress upon the need to fight crime by imposing stiffer punish-ments, in particular by the reintroduction of the death penalty. Never-theless, the link between order and law is one which many liberals and some social democrats would also subscribe to. Although liberals tend to place a heavier emphasis upon human rationality, and to give greater credence to social explanations of crime and disorder, in believing that human beings are essentially self-seeking they accept that they are prone to abuse and exploit one another. It is notable that supposedly centre-left politicians such as Clinton in the USA and Blair in the UK have adopted the stance that they should be ‘tough’ on crime and not merely on the causes of crime.

The conservative analysis, nevertheless, goes further. Conservatives hold not only that human beings are morally corrupt but also emphasize the degree to which social order, and indeed human civilization itself, is fragile. In accordance with the eighteenth-century writings of Edmund Burke, conservatives have traditionally portrayed society as ‘organic’, as a living entity within which each element is linked in a delicate balance to every other element. The ‘social whole’ is therefore more than simply a collection of its individual parts, and if any part is damaged the whole is threatened. In particular, conservatives have emphasized that society is held together by the maintenance of traditional institutions such as the family and by respect for an established culture, based upon religion, tradition and custom. The defence of the ‘fabric’ of society has become one of the central themes of neo-conservatism, advanced in the United States by social theorists such as Irving Kristol and Daniel Bell, who have warned against the destruction of spiritual values brought about by both market pressures and the permissive ethic. From this point of view, law can be seen not only as a way of maintaining order by threatening the wrong-doer with punishment but also as a means of upholding traditional values and established beliefs. This is why conservatives have usually agreed with Patrick Devlin in believing that the proper function of law is to ‘teach morality’.

Order has, finally, been defended on psychological grounds. This view emphasizes that human beings are limited and psychologically insecure creatures. Above all, people seek safety and security; they are drawn naturally towards the familiar, the known, the traditional. Order is therefore a vital, perhaps the most vital, of human needs. This implies that human beings will recoil from the unfamiliar, the new, the alien. In this way, for example, Edmund Burke was able to portray prejudice against people different from ourselves as both natural and beneficial, arguing that it gives individuals a sense of security and a social identity. Such a view, however, has very radical implications for the maintenance of order. It may, for instance, be entirely at odds with the multicultural and multi-faith nature of many contemporary societies, suggesting that dis-order and insecurity must always lie close to the surface in such societies. As a result, some conservatives have objected to unchecked immigration, or demanded that immigrants be encouraged to assimilate into the culture of their ‘host’ country.

Natural Harmony

A very different conception of order emerges from the writings of socialists and anarchists. Anarchists, for instance, advocate the abolition of the state and all forms of political authority, including, of course, the machinery of law and order. Marxist socialists have also sympathized with this utopian vision. Marx himself believed that the state, and with it law and other forms of social control, would gradually ‘wither away’ once social inequality was abolished. Parliamentary socialists and modern liberals have made more modest proposals, but they have nevertheless been critical of the belief that order can only be maintained by strict laws and stiff penalties. Although such views are critical of the conventional notion of ‘law and order’, they do not amount to an outright rejection of ‘order’ itself. Rather, they are based upon the alternative belief that social order can take the form of spontaneous harmony, regulated only by the natural good sense of individuals themselves.

Such a concept of order is based upon the assumption that disorder is rooted not in the individual himself or herself but in the structure of society. Human beings are not born corrupt, tainted by ‘original sin’; rather, they are corrupted by society. This image is portrayed in the famous opening words of Rousseau’s Social Contract ([1762] 1969), ‘Man is born free but is everywhere in chains’. This is the most basic assumption of utopian political thought, examined in more detail in another post. Society can corrupt individuals in a number of ways. Socialists and many liberals point to a link between crime and social deprivation, arguing that laws which protect property are bound to be broken so long as poverty and social inequality persist. Such a view suggests that order can best be promoted not by a fear of punishment but through a programme of social reform designed, for example, to improve housing, counter urban decay, reduce unemployment and so forth. Marxists and classical anarchists have taken such arguments further and called for a social revolution. In their view, crime and disorder are rooted in the institution of private property and in the economic inequality which it gives rise to.

In addition, socialists have suggested that the selfish and acquisitive behaviour that is so often blamed for social disorder is, in reality, bred by society itself. Capitalism encourages human beings to be self-seeking and competitive, and indeed rewards them for putting their own interests before those of fellow human beings. Socialists therefore argue that social order can more easily be maintained in a society which encourages and rewards social solidarity and cooperative behaviour, one based upon collective principles rather than selfishness. Anarchists, for their part, have pointed the finger at law itself, accusing it of being the principal cause of disorder and crime. Peter Kropotkin argued in ‘Law and Authority’ ([1886] 1977), for instance, that, ‘the main supports of crime are idleness, law and authority’. For anarchists, law is not simply a means of protecting property from the propertyless but it is also a form of ‘organized violence’, as the Russian author Leo Tolstoy (1828–1910) put it. Law is the naked exercise of power over others; all laws are oppressive. This is why law can only be maintained through a system of coercion and punishment, in Tolstoy’s view, ‘by blows, by deprivation of liberty and by murder’. The solution to the problem of social disorder is therefore simple: abolish all laws and allow people to act freely.

Such beliefs are rooted in very clear assumptions about human beha-viour. Rather than needing to be disciplined or controlled, people are thought to be capable of living together in peace and natural harmony. Order is thus ‘natural’ in the sense that it arises spontaneously out of the actions of free individuals. The belief in ‘natural order’ is based upon one of two theories of human nature. In the first, human beings are portrayed as rational beings, capable of solving whatever disagreements may arise between them through debate, negotiation and compromise rather than violence. It was, for instance, his deep faith in reason which encouraged J.S. Mill to advocate that law be restricted to the limited task of preventing us from harming each other. Anarchist thinkers such as William Godwin, went further, declaring that ‘sound reason and truth’ would in all circumstances prevent conflict from leading to disorder. The alternative theory of human nature is the essentially socialist belief that people are naturally sociable, cooperative and gregarious. No dominant culture or traditional morality, nor any form of social control exercised from above, is needed to secure order and stability. Rather, this will emerge naturally and irresistibly out of the sympathy, compassion and concern which each person feels for all fellow human beings. In short, harmony and social order are simply a recognition of our common humanity.

Justifying Punishment

Discussions about order invariably address the question of punishment. For example, politicians who use the phrase ‘law and order’ often employ it as a euphemism for strict punishment and harsh penalties. In the same way, when politicians are described as being ‘tough’ on law and order, this means that they are likely to support the wider use of custodial sentences, longer gaol terms, harsh prison regimes and the like. Since the 1980s, such ‘toughness’ has become increasingly fashionable (support for it having extended well beyond conservative parties and politicians) as crime and disorder have become more prominent political issues, with the result that prison populations have risen in most developed societies. Very frequently, however, punishment is advocated without a clear idea of its aim or purpose.

‘Punishment’ refers to a penalty inflicted on a person for a crime or offence. Unlike revenge, which can be random and arbitrary, punishment is formal in the sense that specific punishments are linked to particular kinds of offence. Moreover, punishment has a moral character that distinguishes it, for instance, from simple vindictiveness. Punishment is not motivated by spite or the desire to inflict pain, discomfort or inconvenience for its own sake, but rather because a ‘wrong’ has been done. This is why what are thought of as cruel or inhuman punishments, such as torture and perhaps the death penalty, are often prohibited. However, if punishment has a moral character it must be justified in moral terms. Three such justifications have normally been proposed, based respectively upon the ideas of retribution, deterrence and rehabilitation. Each of these is founded on very different moral and philosophical principles, and each serves to endorse very different forms of punishment. Though the tensions between them are clear, it is nevertheless possible in practice to develop a philosophy of punishment that draws from two or more of them.

In many ways, the most ancient justification for punishment is based upon the idea of retribution. Retribution means to take vengeance against a wrong-doer. The idea is rooted in the religious notion of sin, the belief that there is a discernible quality of ‘evil’ about particular actions and, possibly, certain thoughts. This is a view that has been attractive to conservative thinkers, who have stressed that human beings are imperfect and unperfectable creatures. In this case, punishment for wrong-doing is a moral judgement, which demarcates firmly between ‘good’ and ‘evil’. Wrong-doers deserve to be punished; punishment is their ‘just desert’. Modern attempts to present the retribution argument often point out, in addition, that its benefits extend to society at large. To punish wrong-doers is not merely to treat them as they deserve to be treated, but also expresses the revulsion of society towards their crime. In so doing, punishment strengthens the ‘moral fabric’ of society by underlining for all the difference between right and wrong.

The retribution theory suggests some very specific forms of punishment. Precisely because punishment is vengeance it should be proportional to the wrong done. In short, ‘the punishment should fit the crime’. The most famous expression of this principle is found in the Old Testament of the Bible which declares, ‘an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth’. Retribution theory therefore provides a clear justification for the death penalty in the case of murder. Someone who has killed thereby forfeits their own right to life; death is their ‘just desert’. Indeed, retribution suggests that, in a sense, society has a moral obligation to kill a murderer in an attempt to give expression to society’s abhorrence of the crime. Such principles, however, rely upon an established and rigid moral framework within which ‘right’ is clearly distinguishable from ‘wrong’. The retribution theory is, therefore, of greatest value in societies where traditional moral principles, usually based upon religious belief, are still widely respected; but it is less applicable in the secularized and pluralistic societies of the industrialized West. Moreover, in locating responsibility for wrong-doing entirely in the human individual, indeed in the phenomenon of ‘personal evil’, the retribution theory is unable to take account of social and other external influences upon the individual, and is thus incapable of understanding the complexity of crime in the modern world.

The second major theory of punishment is the deterrence theory. This is less concerned with punishment as a just reward for wrong-doing than with using punishment to shape the future conduct of others. As Jeremy Bentham put it, ‘General prevention ought to be the chief end of punishment as it is its real justification’. Punishment is thus a device which aims to deter people from crime or anti-social behaviour by making them aware of the consequences of their actions. Fear of punishment is therefore the key to order and social stability. Whereas retribution was based upon clear and fixed moral principles, deterrence may be thought of as simply a form of social engineering. Crime, in other words, may not be an expression of personal evil which deserves to be punished, so much as a kind of anti-social behaviour which it is prudent to discourage. In utilitarian terms, punishment is a means of promoting the general happiness of society.

Unlike retribution theory, deterrence does not point to specific forms of punishment. In practice, it suggests that the punishment selected should have the capacity to deter other potential wrong-doers. For this reason, deterrence theory may at times justify far stricter and even crueller punishments than retribution ever can. To punish the wrong-doer is to ‘set an example’ to others; the more dramatic that example, the more effective its deterrence value. This may, for instance, justify cutting off the hand of a petty thief, as is recommended in Islamic Shari’a law, in the hope of preventing future thieving. The severity of the penalty imposed upon one individual must be balanced against the benefit of preventing similar crimes occurring in future. The problem, however, is that the idea of deterrence comes dangerously close to divorcing the wrong that has been done from the punishment meted out, and so runs the risk of victimising the initial wrong-doer. Indeed, deterrence theory sets no limits to the form of punishment that may be applied, even for the most trivial offence.

A further difficulty is that deterrence is based upon the assumption that criminals and wrong-doers act rationally, at least in so far as they weigh up the likely consequences of their actions. When this is not the case, deterrence theory collapses. There is reason to believe, for example, that many murderers will not be deterred by the threat of punishment, even capital punishment. This is because murder is often a domestic affair in the sense that it takes place within the family unit, and its perpetrators usually act under the most severe psychological and emotional strain. In such circumstances, the people concerned are not capable of reaching balanced judgements, still less of examining the likely consequences of their actions. If such people acted in a rational and calculating fashion, crimes of passion like these would simply never occur in the first place.

The final justification for punishment is based upon the idea of reform or rehabilitation. This theory shifts responsibility for wrong-doing away from the individual and towards society. The criminal is not thought of as somebody who is morally evil or who should be made an example of; rather, the criminal should be helped, supported and, indeed, educated. Such an idea contrasts sharply with that of retribution because it is based upon an essentially optimistic conception of human nature that makes little or no allowance for the notion of ‘personal evil’. That is why it is attractive to liberals and socialists, who stress the benefits of education and the possibilities for personal self-development. Hooliganism, vandalism and crime highlight the failings of society and not the defects of the individual. In effect, crime and disorder are ‘bred’ by social problems such as unemployment, poverty, poor housing and inequality. The only exception to this which rehabilitation theory would recognize is people who are traditionally mad and are responding to non-rational psycholo-gical impulses. However, even in this case, people cannot be held personally responsible for their actions.

Quite clearly, rehabilitation suggests very different forms of punishment from either retribution or deterrence. In fact, if the goal is to ‘reform’ the wrong-doer, punishment moves some way from the popular image of it as a penalty involving the infliction of pain, deprivation or, at the very least, inconvenience. Certainly, no justification can be found in rehabilitation theory for capital punishment – in any circumstances. Moreover, if the purpose of punishment is to educate rather than penalize, non-custodial sentences should be preferred to custodial ones; community service will be preferred to prison; and prison regimes should be designed to promote self-esteem and personal development, and should give transgressors the opportunity to acquire the skills and qualifications which will help them re-integrate into society after their release. A modern and increasingly fashionable version of rehabilitation theory can be found in the notion of restorative justice. This sets out to give wrong-doers an insight into the nature and impact of their crimes by forcing them to ‘make good’ any damage or harm caused, and possibly to meet with the victims of their crimes.

One difficulty with general rehabilitation theory, however, is that it views punishment as a form of personal engineering, designed to produce ‘better people’ through a process of re-education. In so doing, it seeks to mould and remould human nature itself. Furthermore, by dismissing the notion of personal evil, rehabilitation theories come close to absolving the individual from any moral responsibility whatsoever. To say ‘hate the crime but love the criminal’ is to run the risk of blaming society for all forms of unpleasantness and wrong-doing. This is to confuse explanation and justification. There is little doubt, for instance, that human beings act under a wide range of social pressures, but to ‘blame’ society for every-thing they do is to suggest that they are nothing more than robots, incapable of exercising any form of free will. To decide precisely when the individual is acting as an independent agent, morally responsible for his or her own actions, is, however, one of the most difficult questions not just in relation to punishment, but in political theory itself.