Slaves to Democracy
The Servile Mind: How Democracy Erodes The Moral Life , Kenneth Minogue, Encounter, 374 pages
By Paul Gottfried
Kenneth Minogue is a distinguished figure for serious students of political
thought. A longtime professor (now emeritus) at the London School of Economics,
president of the Mont Pelerin Society, and the author of provocative works on
nationalism, ideology, and egalitarian democracy, Minogue is one of the most
illustrious representatives of what survives of the European classical liberal
tradition. A disciple of Michael Oakeshott and an incisive critic of public administration, Minogue
has been open about expressing his views ever since he left his native New
Zealand, first for Australia and then for England. He is for whatever social
democrats are against—bourgeois culture, free-market economics, and as strict a
separation as possible between the administrative state and civil society.
In The Servile Mind, Minogue makes clear where he stands. He
does not view the democratic experiment as it has gone forward in his
lifetime—he was born in 1930—as favorable to freedom. He believes our current
politics are driven by a popular demand, fed by intellectuals and politicians,
for the imposition of ever greater equality. This demand for “fairness” or
“social justice” nurtures the soft totalitarianism of political correctness and
redistributionist policies.
A major problem of democratic welfare states, according to Minogue, is that
they turn citizens into slaves. They produce what he considers “servile minds”
that fit into what Hilaire Belloc a hundred years ago described as the “servile
state.” Modern states manipulate and transform onetime members of families and
communities into fragmented subjects addicted to state control. In the name of
equality, political authorities reshape the moral development of increasingly
isolated individuals.
Minogue clearly does not set out to praise democracy in its contemporary
form as humanity’s greatest blessing. Nor does he wish to inflict our late
modern regime on the entire world. He would agree with a judgment that Milton
Friedman expressed in a Liberty Fund interview shortly before his death, that
economic and civil freedom usually suffer with the advance of political
freedom. By extending the franchise too far and by making too many human
arrangements subject to “what the people want” or “what they think is just,” we
destroy our economic liberties and right of free association. Minogue gives his
work the suggestive subtitle How Democracy Erodes the Moral Life.
He is in favor of well-ordered freedom but not necessarily the democracy to
which liberty is often tendentiously linked. Minogue is more sober in his
judgments about democratic regimes than were two of his heroes in Austrian
economics, Ludwig von Mises and Friedrich Hayek. These otherwise astute economists
generally assumed that democracy was the only form of government that protects
economic and civic freedoms. When Hayek noted that the match didn’t work out as
well as expected, he attributed this failure to not having the right kind of
democracy. If only democratic countries would take the model of Swiss
republicanism at its best, then our freedoms, according to Hayek, would be
secure.
Minogue, by contrast, does not cherry-pick his examples. He deals with
democracy as it has developed most widely over the last century. The
colonization of the family by state functionaries and public educators,
government inroads into our earnings and business enterprises, and the
state-sponsored cult of victim groups are for Minogue the predictable outcomes
of modern democratic rule. They are the state’s attempts to satisfy the demand
that government itself incites for greater equality of condition.
This process began, we are told, with a change in the size of the
electorate, the ultimate effect of which was to turn “democracy as denoting a
kind of political arrangement” into democracy as a “moral, social and political
ideal.” By the 20th century, a “relatively slight change in electoral practice”
had led to a “comprehensive critique and, in many cases, a rejection of the
inherited mores of European states.”
All of this became more acute when Labour parties and other
social-democratic forces entered the scene. English Labourites often began with
“a small technical change in the constitution” and ended their rule with the “remarkable
idea of democracy as a critic of an entire civilization.” As mass democracy
progressed into social democracy,
ranks, classes, and formalities, forms of respect, habits of clothing and much else were swept aside in what one might in retrospect call an ‘orgy of informality’ and elections became forms of voter seduction, in which specific classes of voters were promised concrete benefits resulting from the use of political power to redistribute wealth from those who had acquired it in the economy.
Perhaps Minogue’s most noteworthy contribution to political analysis—albeit
one that runs counter to what American conservatives have been taught to
accept—is an understanding that the left has strong moral values. The problem
is not that the left is run by moral relativists but rather that it is driven
by a yearning for social justice. Unlike equivocating Republican operatives,
the left believes all too passionately in what it says. In fact, it is trying
to “politicize everything.” The “bigots for justice” on the multicultural left
see all human interactions as opportunities for manipulation. It just so
happens that their project requires them to get rid of bourgeois civilization
to clear the field for imposing their vision. But this certainly does not mean
that these reformers lack all conviction. As Minogue explains in an earlier
work, Politics:
In this new sense of politics, there are no limits: where people cut their wrists or children are beaten, or lesbians are not fully accepted, political action ought to be taken, and what it requires is that attitudes be changed in order that, ultimately, harmony will prevail. Politics becomes, in a famous formula in political science, ‘the authoritative allocation of values.’
In that same work, Minogue evokes a nightmarish picture in which normal
political life becomes impossible because of the compelling power of the
leftist demand for social justice in all aspects of our existence. In The
Servile Mind he focuses particularly on the “great project” that
informs the leftist transformation of politics:
The politico-moral idealist clearly commands the high moral ground … Ordinary human concerns about making ends meet and dealing with difficult human associates look insignificant in comparison. Some exponents of the grand project these days go on to criticize foreign holidays or indulging in an extra bottle of wine over an elaborate dinner as mere selfishness.
In comparison to the project of ending poverty and discrimination, at the
trivial cost of bourgeois liberties, what can the left’s opponents present as
showing a comparable degree of “moral seriousness”? Thus the ordinary person,
who is brought up by the democratic state, is convinced that he must sacrifice
his “morally frivolous” interest to the greater good of the world’s poor and of
those groups still marginalized at home. In this moral blackmail, which comes
to envelop civic life and finally international relations, people rush to
accept what they are made to believe is the proper way to speak and act: “How
can they pass as ethical unless they are told what words they may or may not
use in describing fellow-citizens, the way their children ought to be educated,
what ethnic distribution of friends they ought to have and what benevolences
are required for them?”
Minogue points out that the architects and enforcers of the Great Project
need never say they’re sorry. Purity of intention is enough to justify any
social experiment gone awry: “Our civilization has long been rather soft on
good intentions, even though most of us realize they pave the road to hell.”
Equally relevant, Minogue sees the acceptance of pure intention as related to the
belief that the “politico-moral idealist” holds the “high moral ground.”
Because of his presumed concern with egalitarian goals, this reformer is
perceived as being pure as the driven snow. Indeed, it is not good taste to
dwell on well-intentioned failures, just as it is unfair to hold designated
victims accountable for their misdeeds.
There are however three small points in Minogue’s work that call for
clarification. Was it really a minor step that led from restricted to universal
(manhood) suffrage, a widely celebrated reform that was soon extended to women
in Western countries? A voluminous polemical literature by 19th-century
conservatives and classical liberals, including the French premier of the 1840s
Francois Guizot and many of the (actually liberal) subjects of Russell Kirk’s The
Conservative Mind, warned against this leap into the dark.
The other query is terminological and may have no ready solution, given the
poverty of our fashionable political vocabulary. Minogue refers to the
government of Great Britain before its extensions of the electorate as being
“democratic” but less ideologically and programmatically so than it would later
become. Describing a monarchy with limited popular representation and an
aristocratic component as a “democracy” may be a bit of a stretch. On the other
hand, calling that form of government what it was, a balanced pre-democratic
regime—and a good one at that—may be unimaginable to many readers.
Minogue also provides a panegyric to “liberal democracy” from pages 121 and
124, and one wonders why it was inserted. Certainly in view of everything else
he writes in this book about democracy creating servile subjects, it is hard to
contextualize his statements about how we have seen the “triumph of personal
freedom” unequaled in human history. Further: “people have at last escaped the
tutelage of their governments.” Are we speaking here about “democracy” before
it lapsed into politico-moralism and continuous social engineering? Or is this
meant to be a description of the existing Anglo-American regime, which
neoconservatives see as the best of all possible worlds? Perhaps these pages
are intended to soften the harsh tone of a work that is not likely to attract
the in-crowd. In any case, it is not related to the rest of Minogue’s splendid
work.
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