By Philip A. Wallach
Thursday, April 18, 2024
Are the American people fit to govern
themselves? Our Constitution’s first words assume so. In formal discourse, both
major political parties hasten to present themselves as agents of the people’s
will.
But among the theorists of the “New Right,” it is fast
becoming an article of faith that the true answer is no — that the American
people do not govern themselves, and are not fit to do so. Instead, all the
official prattle about democracy is a drooping façade for oligarchy. Anyone who
says that we can, at this juncture, vindicate regular people’s interests
through existing constitutional forms is either a knave (a knowing servant of
the blob, obfuscating purposely) or a fool (a naïf or nostalgic who refuses to
see the decadence, depredation, and degeneracy all around us).
Two books in particular prosecute this case: Michael
Anton’s The Stakes (2020) and Patrick Deneen’s Regime
Change (2023). Anton’s book extends his famous 2016 essay “The Flight
93 Election,” imploring regular Americans to treat every election as a
desperate attempt to wrest control of the country from a vindictive leftist
elite before it is too late. He insists that while “principled” conservatives
are beholden to an obsolete ideology and can only lose this fight, a realigned
nationalist-populist party can win. In a similar vein, Deneen argues that
America is dominated by a coalition of left and right “liberals” who fetishize
progress and fear the people. “Woke capitalism” puts off the people’s righteous
demands by offering “diversion, consumption, and hedonism,” but the time is
coming for “the creation of a postliberal order” that may keep existing forms
of government but will need to utterly transform their “ethos.”
Anton and Deneen aspire to vindicate the interests of the
masses, but their recipe is not simply to empower the people as they currently
exist. Instead, Anton and Deneen argue that, sometime in the last half century,
“we the people” shed those virtues needed to make self-government function. Too
many citizens have sunk into the miasma of identitarian grievance-mongering,
cut off from our civilizational inheritance. And so, in the 2020s, we barely
have any real politics; instead, the Bigs (Pharma, Ag, Tech) and the
military–industrial complex lock in the status quo for their own benefit,
bringing in hordes of immigrants to keep labor costs down while showing
contempt for the concerns of ordinary people. As Anton puts it,
“Californication” will soon engulf the entire country, entailing profligate
social spending, indifference to urban crime, and unfathomable inequality, not
to mention distasteful “overcrowding.”
Why do Anton and Deneen think the situation is so dire,
and the American people so unable to rise to the moment? In their telling, this
is all but self-evident. Cities are filthy, prices are soaring, the border is
overrun, the postindustrial heartland is decaying, everything is made in China,
our youth are addled by internet porn and drugs, deaths of despair are rampant
— and government responses to all of these problems are incompetent or actively
hurtful. In short, “American carnage” is the shared experience — except for the
“ruling class,” a group that is nebulous but surely ought to be reviled. If
official statistics tell us that the working class’s real wages have risen
since the pandemic, that poverty has fallen significantly over the past 25
years, and that we are having a historic run of steady job growth and low
unemployment, well, can you really trust official, elite-collected statistics?
For those of us who experience contemporary America as a
complicated mixture of good and bad trends, Anton’s and Deneen’s depiction of
our country as a hellscape and our fellow citizens as sybaritic husks may seem
downright bizarre. But it is understandable if we take it seriously rather than
literally and consider what purpose it plays in their broader project.
If the country is a disaster and the citizenry deeply
corrupted, then we cannot hope to right things through normal politics.
Conservative persuasion is hopeless when there is so very little worth
conserving and the whole education of so many wrong-thinking inhabitants has
turned them against sound policy. Benjamin Disraeli may have been able to form
a workingman’s Toryism, but we have fewer materials at hand and must look to
more radical means.
What we need, as Deneen puts it, is “an elite cadre
skilled at directing and elevating popular resentments” so as to turn the
masses into an effective political force that will strike fear into the hearts
of any who lack an appropriately solidaristic mind-set or a willingness to
“redistribut[e] social capital.” Likewise Anton: “The most important thing we
need to do is unquestionably the hardest: create, and elevate, a new elite.” If
members of this new elite can win some elections, so much the better, but the
more important task is to fundamentally reeducate the people, freeing them from
the false consciousness that has brought them low. Anton, quoting Sam Francis,
says that the “Middle American Right” must “create a radicalized Middle
American consciousness that can perceive the ways in which exploitation of the
middle classes is institutionalized and understand how it can be resisted.”
In short, they are calling for a vanguard of the
proletariat to purge false consciousness from the land. Whereas Lenin said “the
role of vanguard fighter can be fulfilled only by a party that is guided by the
most advanced theory,” and had Marxism in mind, Anton and Deneen want
“Machiavellian means to Aristotelian ends.” Their peculiar sort of
revolutionary is to be thinking of Thomas Aquinas as he scales the ramparts of
debased institutions, but the practitioner of Bannonism-Leninism will share
certain characteristics with his French and Russian forebears. He is, as Deneen
puts it, to disclaim any ambition “to achieve ‘balance’ or a form of
‘democratic pluralism’ that imagines a successful regime comprised of checks
and balances,” instead relentlessly advancing the common good over the
protestations of its enemies. Divergence from the party’s program ought to be
regarded as inimical to the people; disagreement is ipso facto bad. Ruthless
persecution of class enemies is to be relished.
If the right revolutionaries fail to seize the commanding
heights, Anton is ready to consider darker alternatives, many of which he
labels dystopian. He also flirts, rather kittenishly, with the possibility of a
“red Caesar” who would respond to the “breakdown of the republic” with
“authoritarian one-man rule.” Outwardly, Anton disclaims this as a serious
possibility — “prospects for red Caesarism seem fanciful, the stuff of cheap
political thrillers and big-budget summer blockbusters.” But he concedes that
the arrangement might have many merits. A “good Caesar” will rule as Xenophon’s
Simonides urges Hiero the tyrant to rule: to see the country as his estate and
the people as his children and friends.” He points out “that Roman civilization
peaked under the original Caesars.” (As if to confirm this, he then cites
prosperity under the “five good emperors.” But they did not come into power
until a.d. 96, more than a century after “the original Caesar.”
Coming from a Straussian, this sort of error is perhaps meant to convey some
deep and probably dark intimation, but who knows.) Caesarism would be a risky
business, of course, but “a nation no longer capable of ruling itself must be
ruled.” In the same vein, others of the New Right have adopted a vocabulary of “subjects”
rather than “citizens.” And where Anton, at least in 2020, was either coy or
genuinely ambivalent about Caesarism, some of his followers are much more open.
In a typical example, one writes for the American Mind, a Claremont
Institute publication, that a Caesar “who at least militates for order rather
than further chaos and recrimination” would be a welcome change, since “America
today is increasingly an empire not of laws but of corrupt men.”
***
Colorful as these discussions are, they lead
down blind alleys.
First, if citizens are already debased, assuring them
that a chosen class or a single strongman will swoop in and save them is just
about the worst conceivable way to regenerate their virtue. If
“aristo-populists” will do the hard work of self-government, doesn’t that imply
ordinary people should content themselves with bread and circuses? That way lie
the dystopias of The Hunger Games or WALL-E,
depending on how good artificial intelligence turns out to be.
If regenerating virtue is the goal, a completely
different tack is needed. Deneen is an admirer of Christopher Lasch, who was
also a regime skeptic and a withering critic of the betrayals of educated
elites. But Lasch thought that virtue could come only from the exercise of
responsibility. Waiting for the people to be virtuous before entrusting them
with self-government was a recipe for permanently disempowering them.
To be a friend to the people, one must actually believe
in their capacity to decide for themselves, mistakes and all. And in the age of
a professionalized service economy, that must include plenty of desk jockeys,
not just yeoman farmers or blue-collar trade unionists. Anton and Deneen offer
little but contemptuous dismissal for educated professionals, at times
suggesting, in ways jarringly similar to Marxist denunciations of the
bourgeoisie, that they are a parasite class. But do they (we) really deserve to
be sent off to the gulags? Why not have a little sympathy for people trying to
make our modern institutions (even the Bigs!) operate well, with all the
frustrations of limited agency that modern corporate and bureaucratic forms
create? Effective self-government in America, if it is to come, cannot simply
cast these people out for supposed ideological and political sins.
There is a second, more prosaic way in which the authors’
apologias for undemocratic politics disserve them: If readers are persuaded
that a full “regime change” is needed for government to serve normal Americans
again, they will be discouraged from seeking to vindicate their interests in
normal politics, instead ceding the field to the worst tendencies of “the
oligarchy.” In other words, as they dream of exiting our system for a just new
order, they will neglect to make their voices heard in normal politics. This
would be a real shame, because many of the policy issues that motivate Anton
and Deneen seem entirely amenable to normal politics. Both parties offer
legislation meant to help families, but Deneen pooh-poohs these proposals and
instead pines for a “family czar” who would look to Hungary for inspiration.
For his part, Anton calls for striking more Trumpist blows against free trade
and immigration, and for industrial policy. Whatever one thinks of the merits
of these views, American politics is clearly ready to include them, even in a
Joe Biden administration.
More fundamentally, Anton’s and Deneen’s vanguardism is
profoundly at odds with the American political tradition, and thus (much to the
credit of that tradition) is likely to be self-defeating in an American
context. Previous generations of Americans were preoccupied with Julius Caesar,
but he was a purely negative example. His enemies, Brutus and Cato the Younger,
were held up as symbols of republican virtue to be emulated. Anathematizing the
tyrannies of Caesar, Cromwell, George III, and both Napoleons was standard
congressional fare from the time of the Founders through most of the 19th
century. In the 20th century, Lenin, Stalin, and Hitler supplanted these
earlier figures as embodiments of tyranny, ever to be avoided.
Some on the new right have suggested that this
preoccupation with unjust rulers has distorted Americans’ political
imagination. Certainly Deneen, who wants to say that Anglo-American political
thought took a wrong turn somewhere in the 18th century, might be expected to
do so. Adrian Vermeule and Eric Posner dismiss this whole aspect of our
political tradition as hysterical “tyrannophobia” that has made Americans far
too suspicious of executive power sensibly deployed.
But if Anton and Deneen want to be bringers of a new
regime, it really is strange for them to rely so heavily on foreign materials.
No matter how alienated from the current governing class they are, American
patriots are not going to start flying “Tread on me” flags. (Anton’s sneering
contempt for what once upon a time were known as the rights of Englishmen
reaches epic proportions; he says that “what roadkill is to flies, appeals to
‘freedom’ are to conservatives.”) They are likely to want their populism straight
rather than “aristo”-inflected, and while desire for a strongman may be rising,
it is still a distinctly minority preference. Americans want a president who
will fight for their interests, but suggesting that they go out and get an
emperor is a good way to ensure political irrelevance even if it delights some
very-online types.
Developing far afield of all this big talk, the more
pressing question is whether our “democratic” and “republican” parties are
still committed to representative government, with all of the compromise and
mutual forbearance it requires. Beyond their normal attempts to win elections,
both parties have formulated scripts in recent years about why their opposition
is illegitimate. Neither Donald Trump nor Stacey Abrams questions the American
people’s supremacy as expressed in elections. But both have been willing to
claim that elections, as they are actually administered, are designed to
distort rather than reveal the people’s will.
Those of us who still believe in self-government — yes,
even with this American people — need to be keenly aware of
this acid and keep it from corroding our constitutional institutions. We need
to get people practicing politics, attending to the many problems that ail us
in all their mundane details. If we do, we may find that regular people’s
common sense has not deserted them so completely, and that Americans can still
be trusted to do the right thing, eventually. By comparison, the New Right’s
fantasies are indeed “the stuff of cheap political thrillers.”
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