By Jonah Goldberg
Friday, January 02, 2026
“We will replace the frigidity of rugged individualism
with the warmth of collectivism,” declared Zohran Mamdani in his inaugural
address as mayor of New York City on Thursday.
To paraphrase Theodore White’s quip
about Barry Goldwater, it was a real “My God, he’s going to govern as Zohran
Mamdani!” moment.
For young people who barely know who Goldwater (never
mind Theodore White) was, the reference is probably lost. The same historical
ignorance probably explains why some were surprised by all the fuss over the
word “collectivism.”
“Collectivism” and its sibling, “collectivization,” are
trigger words for, well, people like me. In the academic and philosophical
literature, “collectivism” is the blanket analytical term for certainly most
and arguably all forms of totalitarian ideology.
The term came into the English language in the
1850s—probably borrowed from the French collectivisme—where it battled
with competing terms for basically the same thing: communism, socialism,
cooperation, corporatism, solidarity, etc.
But it wasn’t until the 1930s that it got separated from
the solidaristic adjectival herd. American journalist William Henry Chamberlin,
a communist sympathizer until he lived under actual communism in the Soviet
Union, wrote Collectivism:
A False Utopia in 1937, which solidified its negative connotations. On
the first page, Chamberlin writes,
A question that,
in my opinion, far transcends in importance the precise point at which the line
may be drawn between public and private enterprise in economic life, is whether
the people are to own the state or whether the state is to own the people.
“Collectivism, both in its communist and fascist forms”
falls on the wrong side of that question, according to Chamberlin.
After Chamberlin, Karl Popper, Friedrich Hayek, Joseph
Schumpeter, and countless other heavy hitters established “collectivism” as the
acceptable term for a political orientation that stands in opposition to the
individual and individual rights.
Colloquially, the reason collectivism acquired a bad odor
that sometimes even communism did not emit was because of collectivization. At
least when one denounces communism, communists spout the usual “but true
communism was never really tried!” Precisely because of its bloodless academic
nature, the word “collectivism” evades such defenses. No serious person can
claim that “true collectivism was never really tried,” in part because, again
colloquially, collectivization is the fully realized act of putting collectivism
into practice.
The Soviets used collectivization to describe their
effort to transform agriculture, and they killed millions in the process. In
Ukraine in the early 1930s, collectivization led to such mass man-made
starvation and cannibalism that Soviet authorities had to distribute posters
that read,
“To eat your own children is a barbarian act.”
When I first heard Mamdani refer to the “warmth of
collectivism,” I immediately thought of Anne Applebaum’s Pulitzer Prize-winning
Gulag:
A History. In one scene, she
describes how a slave-laborer fell in the snow from exhaustion. The other
slaves—and they were slaves, owned by the state, as Chamberlin would put
it—rushed to strip the fallen man’s clothes and belongings. The dying man’s
last words were, “It’s so cold.”
Collectivization under Mao’s “Great Leap Forward” led to
millions more Chinese famine deaths from 1959 to 1961—from a lowball estimate
of 20 million to a high of 45 million.
Now, I don’t for a moment think Mamdani has anything like
that in mind. Moreover, even if he did, nothing like that can be orchestrated
from New York’s City Hall.
But here is what I do think is interesting and worrisome
about his use of the term “collectivism.” I can only think of three
possibilities for it: 1) Mamdani is ignorant of the term’s historically
grounded connotation, 2) he knows it and doesn’t care, or 3) he knows it and
does care.
Under the second and third options, he could be trying to
reclaim the positive connotation of collectivism—a connotation it has not had
for at least a century. Or he could be trying to troll people—like me—into
attacking him and overreacting to a word his fans have no problem with.
I suppose there’s a fourth possibility. He has a bad
speechwriter—or is one—and just made a stupid, lazy mistake. After all, he
could have used “community,” “communal,” “solidarity,” “cooperation,” “shared
sacrifice,” or some such treacle.
But this mistake is essentially no different than
ignorance. That it didn’t stand out to him is a form of ignorance. After all,
if the draft referred to the warmth of “Stalinism” or “National Socialism,”
Mamdani would certainly have said, “Whoa, we can’t say that. Let’s talk about
the ‘warmth of community’ instead.”
The ghost at the socialist feast.
Part of me just wants to beebop and scat all over
commies. It’s my intellectual safe space. Doing so makes me nostalgic for the
days when I was in better odor on the right. It literally makes me feel closer
to my father, who was a passionate anti-communist and who could talk for hours
in granular detail about “the God that failed.”
Indulge me as I briefly scratch that itch.
The inability of many people on the American left to
understand why millions of decent, rational, even quite progressive, people are
turned off by radical communist—or communist cosplay—rhetoric is one of my
great obsessive fascinations. I have no problem with people who think Hitlerism
was worse than Stalinism or Maoism—there are good and persuasive arguments on
that score. What I cannot fathom, or credit, are people who can’t understand or
acknowledge why it’s a fairly debatable question, a legitimately close call.
Let’s put it this way: John Wayne Gacy was a serial
killer. So was Ted Bundy. I’m fine with people saying that Gacy was “worse”
than Bundy—or vice versa. What I cannot comprehend is why someone would say
that because one is really bad, the other isn’t really all that bad.
Go ahead and argue that Hitlerism was worse than
Stalinism. I think that’s correct. But Stalinism was close. And yet,
communist kitsch—hammer and sickle T-shirts, Maoist caps—are transgressive
fashion statements (in a boringly conformist sort of way), but the swastika is
taboo (or was). I’m all for the swastika being taboo, I’m just at a loss why
communist swag shouldn’t be too.
Moreover—and I don’t say this in a trollish way—at least
Nazi economics had more tangible deliverables than Maoism and, with some
caveats, Stalinism. (We can argue about that another time. Suffice it to say, I
think all three economic systems were evil and empirically inferior to our
own).
The great forgetting.
But let me forgo the comfort of further venting and make
a different point. I think our politics, on the left and right, are shot
through with a kind cultivated ignorance about the past.
Let me say something in defense of Karl Marx and his
socialist and nationalist contemporaries: They were starting relatively fresh.
The Industrial Revolution was a legitimately new thing. The wealth it created
was new. The kind of poverty it created was new, too. Poverty itself was
hardly new, but prior to the Industrial Revolution, poverty was normal and
ubiquitous. What was unusual and rare was wealth. The Industrial Revolution,
and the urbanization that came with it, made “pauperism,” a new term in the 19th
century, visible in ways it had never been.
Speaking of new terms, it’s difficult to get your head
around how new and unsettled the world seemed in the 19th century,
when societies were undergoing massive change. Consider that all of these words were either invented or
took on their modern meaning in the 19th century: social science,
society, socialism, sociology, capitalism, Marxism, nationalism, feminism,
ecology, ideology, conservative, liberal, realpolitik, bureaucracy, scientist,
automobile, telephone, typewriter, homosexual, heterosexual, freelance, even
boredom (coined by Charles Dickens) and—arguably—the term Western
Civilization. Empathy wasn’t a word in English until the early
20th century.
So you can have some sympathy and empathy for people
being wrong at a time when it was unclear what was right and so many new ideas
were swirling around. Why not collectivize? Or why not hold onto a king during
these turbulent times? What’s so wrong with following new-fangled “nationalism”
or “socialism” to their logical conclusions? Why accept that capitalism is good
when it’s made poverty so much more visible? The experiments hadn’t been run
yet.
British historian Eric Hobsbawm coined the term “the long
19th century” to describe the era from the French Revolution to the
outbreak of World War I. I think you can extend that a little further to the
outbreak of World War II, because the spirit of the French Revolution lived on
in the Soviet Union and in the hearts of utopians in the West. During the long,
or super-long 19th century, the verdict was still out on how to
organize society—collectivism or individualism and all that. That’s what the
debate over the “social
question” was all about. From the end of World War II until fairly
recently, the answer to the social question was largely settled.
Maybe Francis Fukuyama jinxed it by noticing
that settlement, but the social question is suddenly a live question on the
left and right.
And you know what? That’s fine. I’m open to another way
of doing things—if it works. If there’s something better than liberal
democratic capitalism at doing the things socialists or nationalists want done,
I’m willing to hear the case. But here’s the thing: The burden of proof is on
you, the radicals of all parties.
But what bothers me about the Mamdani and new right
crowds alike is the degree to which they all want to revisit the social
question without reference to the historical record.
Bernie Sanders, who—of course—swore Mamdani in, gave a
speech at the ceremony in which he simply asserted that
government-run (“city-sponsored”) grocery stores save money because access to
good and healthy food is good for public health. What evidence
is he basing that on?
It’s a small example, but in an age in which ideologues
of the left and right want to revisit the social question, so much of their
respective arguments depend on question-begging. Sanders assumes government-run
grocery stores work, and therefore we should have them. The practical question
of “Do they work?” is just skipped over. They should work and that’s why
we should have them.
America, various new rightists claim, should have an
integralist, or postliberal, or monarchist, or corporatist system because these
things will do X or Y. The evidence comes in second, if at all. We live in a
time where arguments are about how things work in theory, with little heed to
actual practice. It’s like everyone is an apocryphal French intellectual or
some other egghead
now.
Indeed, as my friend Dan Rothschild writes,
“Most of the bad ideas in circulation today are old bad ideas, not new
bad ideas.” He sees this as a cause for optimism, because the defenders of
liberal democratic capitalism have evidence and data on their side in a way
they didn’t in the early 20th (or 19th) centuries.
Intellectually I’m with Dan. And emotionally I often am.
But there’s something dispiriting about the refusal of
people to accept that their conception of the ought has been rebutted by
the is—or what was.
“We will govern without shame and insecurity, making no
apology for what we believe,” Mamdani said in his inaugural address. “I was
elected as a democratic socialist and I will govern as a democratic socialist.
I will not abandon my principles for fear of being deemed radical.”
Put aside that there’s a tension between “collectivism”
and at least the “democratic” in democratic socialist (though that tension is muted
somewhat by the actual
beliefs of the Democratic Socialists of
America party). The DSA believes in abolishing
the police, nationalizing
the fossil fuel industry to hasten phasing it out, and trying its CEOs for “crimes
against humanity,” withdrawing
America from NATO, and, in some quarters, abolishing
capitalism.
I hope it’s obvious that I think these ideas are
objectively stupid and contradicted by the verdict of history.
I don’t say this just because I think Mamdani and the DSA
are objectively wrong about so many things, but because I honestly think the
leaders of a party advancing so many failed and radical ideas should have some
shame and insecurity about what they believe. That might be asking too much, so
how about some humility? Or heck, maybe just some empathy for the people who
are scared or offended by such willful or accidental ignorance.
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