The Economics of Liberty
The Great
Liberal Heritage
If any one word is
responsible for more confusion in the United States than “liberalism,” I’d
surely like to know what it is. To the average American, a liberal is someone
who votes Democratic, favors redistribution of wealth from rich to poor, wants
more government regulation of the market, probably champions gun regulations,
loves public education, and generally stands on the opposite side of the
spectrum, such as it is, from what passes as “conservative” these days.
Yet outside the
United States, and for more than a century, “liberalism” has carried a
different meaning, something quite distinct from, if not diametrically opposed
to, the modern American definition. Liberalism is the tradition of Adam Smith
and John Locke and the more radical of the Founding Fathers – the tradition of
the British opponents of the Corn Laws, of French economists and legal
theorists such as Frédéric Bastiat, and of Americans who questioned the very
necessity of the state in the late 19th century. Liberalism is, in other words,
the political creed of those who favored liberty above the state, believed
peace was preferable to war, and saw free trade and free association as the
very foundations of a just and equitable society; who saw the moral status of
wealth accumulation as being determined not by how much was accumulated, but
rather by how it was accumulated – whether by the peaceful and productive means
of voluntary free exchange or the political means of plunder and government
privilege.
Liberalism, in
short, is the philosophical antecedent to modern libertarianism. And though
many of today’s liberals claim the legacy of old liberalism for themselves,
saying that economic realities and refinement of theory forced them into their
more collectivist mold, it becomes clear from studying the liberal tradition
that its core values of individual liberty, belief in the self-organizing
effectiveness of society, and distrust in government have much more in common
with today’s consistent opponents of tax-and-spend liberalism than with its
proponents.
We libertarians
are lucky to have a great historian in Ralph Raico, whose Classical
Liberalism and the Austrian School contains nine fantastic essays that
shed much needed light on these profound philosophical issues. Raico, our
premier historian of classical liberalism, is fluent in the intellectual
foundations of those ideals as well as in economics, particularly Austrian
economics, rendering him uniquely qualified to discuss the intimate
relationship between the most radical of free-market schools and the struggle
for individual liberty.
Defining
liberalism
Raico laments that
“no serious effort has been made to provide an overall account of the history
of liberalism” outside of the work of Guido de Ruggiero, which he considers
“deeply flawed” and notes “was limited to … Britain, France, Germany, and
Italy.” Another problem arises with the very definition of liberalism: “[A]
survey of the literature on liberalism reveals a conceptual mayhem. One root
cause of this is the frequent attempt to accommodate all important political
groupings that have called themselves ‘liberal.’” That approach does not
impress Raico, who points out the absurdity of defining liberalism so broadly:
If one holds that
the meaning of liberal must be modified because of ideological shifts within
the British Liberal Party (or the Democratic Party in the United States), then
due consideration must also be given to the National Liberals of Imperial
Germany. They – as well as David Lloyd George and John Maynard Keynes – would
have a claim to be situated in the same ideological category as, say, Richard
Cobden, John Bright, and Herbert Spencer. Yet the National Liberals supported,
among other measures: the Kulturkampf against the Catholic Church and the
anti-socialist laws; Bismarck’s abandonment of free trade and his introduction
of the welfare state; the forcible Germanization of the Poles; colonial
expansion and Weltpolitik; and the military and especially naval buildup under
Wilhelm II.